The Writer's Block

The self-proclaimed and twice published author was in a quandary. He was going through a bad, bad writer’s block. He was sitting in most idyllic sorroundings that touched him, made him feel good and made him want to pay tribute to it; but still he could not write anything. EnGeeTham (not his real name, a pseudonym, if this writer may add), the author in question, pondered on, looked for all possible plots, but still could not come up with a plot that he could write on.

Engeetham was sitting on “The Ridge” at the Simla, watching the people go by, in an unhurried way - the locals and some tourists. It was start of the summer and he was told the tourist season had not yet begun. He saw that famous church picturised in several movies awash with a lovely glow of lights. He had been sitting there since the evening, but still had gotten no clue nor a divine intervention nor a bolt of lightning (although it was beginning to drizzle) for a story; but just failed to come up with a plausible plot.

Engeetham was captivated by Simla’s beauty. The mountains, the valleys, the pine trees, the greenery and the vast expanse of forest were a treat. The air seemed to cooler and cleaner. The surrounding areas around Simla, as one moves away from it was even more refreshing. The stillness of the air lent to the surreality that the life itself was going in a slow-motion; it seemed to add a time-dimension for him to step back and survey in a detached way. It was philosophical; yet he could not come up with a plot.

Engeetham has been in Simla for about a week then, with his family staying as guests in his friend’s parent’s house, along with the friend’s family. It was kind of first visit up to the hills and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. He also knew that his wife and kid too were enjoying the visit; the wife the hospitality and the scenery; the kid – the horse-rides, the new place, the yak-rides, the serene pine forests and ability to walk around. Engeetham knew his family was experiencing something different. He looked for angles there, but still no plot or a sign of a story.

Engeetham loved the simplicity of Simla. It was much uncomplicated and the flow was slow. People had time to do things and they were not rushing from here to there. People seem to take time off, even during the work-day to walk on the Mall road. Just walk up and down and have some ice-creams or any other such eats. It seemed one could have a lot for a lot less. The undulations on the road provided a lovely setting to watch the imposing and rising hills all around. He found it specifically very very strange yet child-like when people stopped on the streets, said hello, shook hands with their acquaintances and moved on their earlier trajectory (refer to mention of undulation above) of walking. Engeetham could sense a possibility there for a story; but try as he might, he just could not convert it.

Engeetham and wife were touched by their hosts; there was this endearing non-urban, village-like quality in them – the community feeling. They seem to have that something that urban population like himself seem to be yearning for – having the time, quality and willingness to care for someone other than themselves. He found his hosts were most welcoming. He was sure their visit has introduced chaos into their lives and intruded into their normalcy. In spite of inability to communicate effectively across the language barrier, it was still special. Engeetham’s wife was touched that his friend’s mother insisted that she buy a shawl as a parting gift. Where does this happen? Engeetham could see a possibility of human interest and emotions that the TV News channels effectively peddle these days. He thought hard, but still no cogent plot.

It was more than 2 months since they returned from the vacation. Today, Engeetham was on a plane, on a flight home, from one urban jungle to his home (another urban jungle) – Engeetham took one last attempt; but still nothing; He sighed, as hard as he may try, he just could not get a story out of it. As he gave up, it stuck him: YES !!! Here was the story, with that recommended twist in the narration towards the end of the story that Jeffrey Archer wrote in his Twists in the tale.

...Eureka !!!, Just convert the writer’s block and present it as a writer’s blog.

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Authors Note :) Googling Writers Block spurts out 1000s of pointers. One interesting one is
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Writer's_block
Someday, this blog would appear in the top 8s list :) ;)

Metamorphocyst

Scene1: A few days ago, I came to know that my son loved a song from one of the recent tamil movies – the song is “Vazhai Meenuikkum Vilangu meenuikkum” from the movies Chittiram Pesudadi (which I thought is a pretty decent movie for director who is making his debut). The song itself is in the Gana genre of tamil songs (folksy). My wife had found an internet site from where he could play the song; but he knew if that something were to happen to the network connection, he can hear that song no more. So his goal was to get the song to play on “winamp”, as he calls it. Which implied a download session; and hence my project to download that song started. After googling for the song, after several aborted attempts including a network failure, I could download the song only on the 2^nd day of the project. As I had told him that I had downloaded the song, there was unmitigated joy in him. He was so happy, that he gave me a hug, sat next to me to hear the song out (a couple of times, if I may add, including restarting from the middle of the song again), and doing a sing-along. He was so glad that he could now hear the song regardless of how the network turns out – “its on the winamp”, as far as he was concerned. I looked at him and I could see that he was just overjoyed at that moment; unadulterated joy over a simple thing. Those were so exciting and fulfilling. No grand things. Be excited about one that touches one in away that is not fathomable. A clean refreshing statement on innocence.

Scene2: For the past month or so, I have been thinking of buying a new TV, partly influenced by the fact that one of my friend has bought a 36” Plasma TV; but mostly influenced by the need to have the progressive scan feature on my TV, so that my DVD player that has the feature of progressive scan is compatible with the TV; it gives clearer picture, I was told; and I needed better picture clarity of the DVD movies I would like to watch. So, did my DVD player have the progressive scan feature? It does now, after I replaced the older one, since the older one did not play some of the DVDs well enough. Now that my new player has a feature that cannot be enabled by the existing TV, I’m looking to replace the TV. My existing TV is a 29” model that is working perfectly (well, not so perfectly, but that’s my excuse anyways J ). So, the chain of wanting new things is now on. I wonder if the new TV would lead to connecting my home theatre and finding that I need a sub-woofer, which would perhaps leading to changing the whole speaker set; and perhaps then the upholstery… the possibilities are endless. All for that probable two hours in a week, utmost, of watching a DVD movie…

With human imagination and wants, like I said, possibilities are endless – we have reversed the natural cycle of evolution. We have learned to change from a beautiful butterfly to an ugly moth!!!

This past weak...

My work involves no death, no taxes and certainly no certainity. I've very little control on what I could accomplish (as a result) at work, but need to influence everyone around. Its mostly discovery process of finding out who today will find our concept to be useful, who would find it threatening, who would find it politically expedient or who would bless it but not throw hir weight behind it or... So, I go to work with an hope that the lightning would definitly not strike the 6th time. It is generally stressful, since there is no certainity around anything...

This past week, my non-work was far more worse that it made the work look saintly and a breeze ! It has been an emotional roller coaster; with a sense of disquietude. Something that had a probability of 0.00000001% to go wrong did not just go wrong, but went awry with 100% certainity. Along with the mice's, all my plans went south and awry.

It awashes you with a deep sense of futility particularly when you do not have control over the situation and you can only influence it to a minimal extent. The sense of helplessness is more pronounced since it is not about personal self, but some other person who is solely dependent on you and you are burdened with that accountability. Last week, I was running very hard to a stand-still. I was gasping at straws.

When you awaken in the morning, sometimes you have a sense of foreboding. You kind of know that today, at best would be no different from yesterday; the best it could become, is to get worse. And every day, dawn is unrelenting. It happens without a fail. Its the day that begins with hot sun, not a cloud in the sky with clear blue sky. I had complete blues in me.

Sometimes its good to be a loner. Sometimes its really not. The knot-times really stressful, when the Gods are merciful and painful and when they aren't. These are the times you wish you stop being strong for others and be strong for yourself. You wish you had your folks around so that you can have those uncomfortable silences of non-conversations. You atleast know that physical proximity is comforting - its your not-a-care-in-the-world return to innocence. Last week, I certainly caused consternation amongst my folks by calling them to come visit at the earliest.

I thought about the poem I read when I was in school. The poem was called the "Pulley" (iirc). Someone asked God as to why he messed up by creating complexity and sadness in the world, when he had the opportunity to create perfection. God had responded: those were the few pulleys that he had for the man to think about Him. I actually thought about visiting Tiruchendur sometime soon - just to sit in the outer praharam and gaze at the sparkling sea with the breeze. Ah, for that peace.

If you are a loner, sometimes you marvel at how that person can make friends. And how he can ask for a favour with no discomfort (and at the same time, how he would go out of the way to help his friends). It is tough, if you are a kind of person who typically are not used to asking for help. I looked at one such guy last week. Also, somehow I talked to him.

As it is said, once you have hit the rock bottom, found soft sands to sink a bit more and then innovatively could tunnel to plumb new depths, the only way is up. Once you hit the bottom, is when you perhaps ask for help, talk to someone, think about God, be a bit more positive. Not really sure if those are the right things; But for some reason, I did do all those. Was I gently nudged to do those ? By who ? I really dont have a clue. But on cue, on the Friday afternoon, the pieces started falling in rightful place. The puzzle is on course to completion, the picture is emerging; the picture isn't that bleak as I thought it to be, infact it isnt at all - the despair is getting to be weak and is falling away. Things can yet turn out well - there is Mr.Hope around; or is that Mr.God ?

(The Asterix on) The Divide*

* The Asterisk being simply my opinion; nothing to do with Goschinny and Uderzo

I am on the so-called impacted side of the divide, where I am being denied my rightful share. I've experienced first hand and I’ve been many a times told by my co-habitants on the affected part of the divide why reservation are bad for the country and dilutes the meritocracy mindset in the country.

Color me liberal, pseudo-secular or whatever. I relate to several instances that I’ve seen in the past: to me it is just not about the economics or if a person is well off and is able to afford an education. I believe it is about a mental state – of how aware one is about the need for education (any form of education) in an economy that is growing and becoming more and more global. I’ve seen instances where, in a situation where the awareness of the importance of education does not exist, typically kids and young men at an age do not have the right mentorship, guidance and control (where it is necessary) for them to make the right choices. This is not about if they have the financial support; it is one step beyond it – it is that mental support and push. There is no scaffold available for them to use. Typically, I find such young wo/men, inspite of all their effort, there is that intangible that they miss to get past the inflection point that turns the effort into results. It kind of gets to be a double whammy – this is the age when the hormones are at the highest raging point and the distractions are the highest; secondly there is no alternate and opposing control and context point that gives a true picture of current reality and future reality. If I take my own case, my father was pretty unrelenting on driving home the need for good education; he constantly gave me the context as to how the world is changing and pushed me in to situations where I was forced to get the context. He also ensured that there are necessary control points in my system. Environment around me, my sister, my cousins, my uncles and aunt were all in the same context and regardless of my own wish, I was constantly forced to see and live in it; so right at outset of the right age, I had some clarity on why education was important (not that I did much about it :) ).

Although I was for the policy all along, recently I’ve been more convinced for such a need; we are going through the painful rigours of change management at my work, I have internalized, that the "need for reservations" is not about economically and otherwise deprived. For I see, people all around me have the intent to change - but where the challenge comes in is in "the how to" and in "the what to change to" . It is just about how long does it take for a mental mindset to change! It is the ill-awareness of the amorphous end-state; that knowledge comes a about only by experience ; and experience comes in by constantly being in a situation where the changed-state is the natural state of being. I was told by a change-management expert that it normally takes about a year for a small group of people (in one hierarchy) to even internalize why a change is required. And for the organization to change its mindset it would take several years – this is in an industry that is not even 30 years old.

In India, we are talking about a huge population who has been in a different and stereotyped (and perhaps subjugated ?) mindset, been on the receiving end for eons of several generations, denied the basic education and access to richness of our culture and literature. With this background, somehow, it is not intuitive for me that the change would happen in one generation. Just because the opportunities present itself does not imply it will be taken – the ecosystem where one grown up needs to have that mindset: I believe, the reservation is about ensuring that kind of change comes about; where the changed-state is prevelant everywhere and to everyone. Once that happens, I think the collective excellence of India would increase; but prior to that, we could probably, repeat probably, see a blip in the sigmoid curve!

Ps: On this, there was an excellent article on the Sunday Magazine of the Hindu at http://www.hindu.com/mag/2006/06/25/stories/2006062500180400.htm

Pps: On the other hand, I also do think that reservations in higher education and jobs where basic education (where reservation already existed) is a pre-requisite, is redundant and its pushing the vote-bank envelopes; and hence, perhaps, one of the reason why a rationale person too paints all the reservations (needed and extraneous) with the same brush of “death of meritocracy”.

Airlines People, Enakkoru (pala, Infact) Sandegam...

· Ever wonder these “beautiful people” who come across aloof and cold outside the confines of an airplane become warm and caring once they are inside? Would this dichotomy stress them enormously?

· If ever a Stewardess in hir personal lives, get angry and ask someone to “get out”, would they also tell them, that the “nearest exit may be behind you”?

· As the airplane flies higher and higher, it appears smaller and smaller to the eyes – is that why everything that’s served in the plane are in mini-sizes – like the food, peanuts packs, liquor bottle; Is this the case of “Honey, I shrunk every damn thing” ?

· I’m not looking to look as thin as you folks do or as fit as you folks are – If I’m on a diet, I will tell you; so, can I actually have a full and real meal, please?

· If one were to meet you on the road and ask for directions, would you do the side-ways karate chop there too?

· If you were to tell the Stewardess, while deplaning that you are planning to kill yourself, would they with their stuck ready-made smiles tell you – “Bye now, Buh Buh-ye now”?

The Gandhi Trials

The Accused:

Ganesha was circling looking for a prey. He always ended up finding one; these days it was tougher than early days where people seemed to fall for cons easily; but these days, there seemed to be smarter people all around; he himself had to become smarter. Earlier he had worked alone without having to split his spoils with anyone;now, he needed to develop a support system, since people have started asking more questions and there are more disbelieving people – he thought aloud, ‘tch… what is this world coming to, where have all the faith and trust gone’ and grinned to himself wryly !

Ganesha always picked his spot carefully – this time, it was near photocopier shop; where there are more business and companies around. Although more and more companies moved to the outskirts, he found the newer companies took their place. In Bangalore, he found the people in IT companies with their higher affluence, and perhaps guilt of having to do something for the society were easy prey. As Ganesha hung around the photocopier shop, with a copy of B L Thereja’s text book and a photocopied version of it, he found a person who could be a potential for Ganesha. The person was wearing glasses, thin and was sipping coffee alone. Ganesh, prepared himself, checked if his mobile was hid well and was on mute; he did not want to give himself away by ringing at the wrong time. Ganesha then approached him, with a tortured and unsure countenance,

“Sir… Sir, I need some help, Sir”. “I’m a 2^nd year engineering student. I’m from a small town near Hubli, Sir”. The thin-man stayed silent.

“I need some help Sir”, Ganesha repeated; “I cannot afford to buy my books, and hence I had to take xerox of a text book that I borrowed”. As he was talking, he pointed to the text book and the sheaf of photocopied, spiral bound book. “Whatever money I had, I had paid for the photocopy; but my exam fees are due tomorrow, Sir”, he trailed off, with an unsure voice…

The thin-man looked at Ganesha quizzincally. Ganesha felt he is being evaluated and quickly ensured that he ensured that he kept his diffidence and helplessness in his face. The thin-man asked incongruously, “which branch”, which Ganesha answered easily. Then Thin-man threw him off by asking about his first year marks. Ganesha mumbled something that could be believable and kept it just over 1^st class. The Thin-man then asked him about his college. Ganesha knew what was coming next – he needs to be careful here. These days most people offered to pay the fees in person. Ganesha learned this the hard-way, when his medicine-scam came undone when the person he approached, spent Rs.400/- on buying medicines for Ganesha that he need not need; but that had taught Ganesha the lesson and he developed a support system around it – a medical shop, where he could return the medicines back but having to forego a 25% cut; a clerk in the college who would collect fees but return the money for a cut. Although Ganesha would like to avoid this, but these days, he needed back-up plans.

He aware that Thin-man was watching him; Ganesha gave the name of the college that was on the outskirts; Before the thin-man could speak, Ganesha produced the ID-card of the college, which could be made very easily from lost cards. The thin man had given it a cursory glance; but Ganesha knew not to underestimate anyone – he held the card out, so that the thin man can study it more. Ganesha could feel that, he had his man, but the thin man was wrestling with something else in his mind – perhaps he wanted to offer to come along with Ganesha and pay the fees. Then finally, after what seemed to be eons, the thin-man asked, “how much” ?

Ganesha took out the letter that he had received from the college reminding him to pay the exam fees before a certain date – it had Rs.1750.00 in it. He quickly added he could cover some of it and he short by Rs.1050.00 – Ganesha had found that not asking for the full amount made the whole story highly plausible and credible. The Thin man took out his purse and pulled out a Rs.500/- and three Rs.100/- and gave it to Ganesha. He was saying – “normally I would have come with you to pay, but today I cannot”. As he gave the money away, Ganesha took the notes with earnestness, thanking the thin-man profusely and asked him if he could meet him here again to give a copy of the receipt. The thin-man waved him way and quickly turned and walked away. Ganesha looked at cash in his hand – the portrait of Gandhi on those notes seemed to mock at him in a smile.

The Defendant:

Vikas Rao wanted to take a break from work. He has been struggling with a complex problem at work and wanted to get out to get some fresh air, which was paradoxical to talk about in Bangalore. He got out of his seat, went out to the tea shop on what looked like a shopping complex. He had ordered for a coffee and sipping his coffee when he felt someone calling for him.

“Sir…”

“Sir, I need some help”. Vikas looked up to a find a person standing in front him. He looked younger than what his age was perhaps. In the next 10 minutes, Vikas heard the story of Ganesha Gowda who was a poor student from a town near Hubli and was a reasonable student, who wasn’t able to afford for the exam fees and wanted some help; the young man had offered his ID card and the letter from the college as proof. Vikas had studied it, but he was street-smart enough to know that these can be produced. He studied the young man again – there was something about him that Vikas found not credible. He gave Ganesha another look over – there seemed to be something hidden in his pockets, that seemed like a mobile. Vikas knew he could be wrong, but in this case, he probably wasn’t.

As Vikas was wrestling with his thoughts, he went back to his own past. Not much unlike the young man in front of him, Vikas too was from a small town. His father was a typical lower income group and worked in a local office; the money from the work was just enough to make both ends meet; with that money, he could not have sent Vikas to an engineering college. Although Vikas was not an outstanding student, he was a very good and sincere student. He knew that education was way out for his family and himself and spent enough time doing that well. Vikas did secure a good seat in an engineering college, and fortunately for him, one of father’s friends gave him a loan to complete his studies and sponsored some of Vikas expenses. Once he finished his studies, got a job and he went back to his sponsor to return the money. The venerable old sponsor smiled at Vikas and told him to help other poor students out with that money.

That was the day Vikas had made up his mind – that he would sponsor couple of students on his own through their education and would not turn down people who come to him for help for their education. He was not a fool not to know that there were scam artist who used such modes to con people of their money. At those times, he always went back to his ethical blueprint of needing to help; he knew that if he took that excuse of con, he may actually have turned down some with genuine needs too. He also typically ensured that he doesn’t give away money without verifying a few things. However, he knew out of 10 people, 5 could be a con. But he stayed the course, he believed because of those dirty 5, he had made up his mind that the real 5 should not be denied; to some of his friends that was a warped logic. But Vikas believed in the value of education. Even if his money reaches only 5 out of 10, he was ok with it; although he knew he could be conned via this route, he did not want to cynicism to come in the way for those genuine 5 to be helped. In an important thing such as education, he did not want to play the odds.

As Vikas studied Ganesha, he was reasonably certain this guy belonged to the dirty 5. But then Vikas also knew he could be wrong. He took out his purse, took out a Rs.500 note and three Rs.100/- note. Incongruously, the portrait of Gandhi in those currency notes, seemed to smile at him in approval.

The Great Leveller

Henry Mpenga could hear his class and his rows of seats being called for boarded. He had waited patiently for his name to be called; as his area of seating was called, he found himself in a melee and was being pushed around. Finally, a semblance of order was restored and he found he was gently pushed towards his seat. The stewardess, with a high lack of interest of Mpenga’s well being, directed him to his seat with a plastic smile. Mpenga found his seat in the middle row and unfortunately it was not an aisle seat; he looked for a place in the overhead bin for his luggage, but found that it was already overflowing. He had called out for help and the stewardess told him to stow his bag underneath the seat in front of his. Mpenga wondered if they could repeat it even when they were woken from his sleep. Mpenga stowed, rather stuffed under the seat, his luggage and then squeezed himself into the inside seat; with his generous built and height found himself to be constrained. He wanted to get another seat; he looked around, but looked like he had no freedom to find another seat. A few minutes later, he found both the seats on either side were occupied and he found that he was constricted more. After what seemed like a punishing time, the plane was ready to take off. Mpenga who had a weak bladder wanted to go, but he looked up – the seat belts signs was still on – he had to endure it for a long while. As soon as the plane reached a cruising altitude (the pilot said), the seat belts signs were switched off. Mpenga wanted to get to the toilet; the person on the aisle seat who has just settled down to a snooze across the trans-Atlantic flight, did not like one wee bit that he was being asked to get up. He gave enough hints to Mpenga that he would not appreciate being asked to move out every few hours (“There goes, thought Mpenga; he killed the very idea of moving out of his seat once in a while to loosen and keep the blood-circulation going). Mpenga went to the toilet and had to wait until the queue dissolved; he was thankful that he just got into the toilet as he relieved himself. He regretted that he needed to ask his neighbor to move out again to fit himself. As Mpenga eased himself back into the seat, he began feeling hungry. The little peanut pack only acted as a teaser; as he asked the passing stewardess, he was told that he needed to wait and he would be served lunch in about half hour. Mpenga wished he was in ground and was free to just walk across the street to a food joint to buy something that would satiate his hunger right now; however, with no options, he waited; fighting to stay awake and his hunger. After what seemed an interminable wait, the stewards wheeled in the food; a tray with some standard fare was plonked in front of him; it was ordinary and cold. He wished he had some choices; but there was no luck, since the stewardess told him that it was a full flight – he did not get the relation, but then let it go. After the sumptuous lunch (Mpenga thought wryly), Mpenga snoozed off. As he was just dropping off into a deep sleep, he was awakened by the noise: the stewardesses were getting ready to serve food; He wanted to go relieve himself, but he found his 35D neighbor feigning sleep looking away from him. After he could hold no longer, Mpenga awoke the 35D and slipped out. He freshened himself in the toilet, looking forward to return to his homeland. When he got out, he found he could not get to his seat, since the stewardesses were serving food and the cart was between himself and his seat. The stewardess motioned him to wait and he moved incrementally as they moved serving food. Finally, the whole train reached his row and he was allowed to get into his seat. As soon as he settled down, he was given another decrepit food of vague recipe. Mpenga, who did not want to stay hungry for another hour, just gobbled it up. As soon as the yet another lunch service (“An oxymoron” thought Mpenga) was done with, the seat-belts lights came on; and the in-seat incarceration began… Finally, after 7 hours of flight time, the pilot said that they would be landing soon in Mpenga’s country. Henry Mpenga looked forward to it, as the plane touched down in the capital city.

Henry Mpenga was traveling incognito. Henry Mpenga, the greatest freedom fighter who was in the threshold of emancipating his country from the oppressors was returning to finish off the occupiers. It was the last thrust of the sword that will kill the occupation. It Henry Mpenga’s revolutionary ideas, his incessant questioning of rules and oppression, first from within the country and then from exile, his refusal to accept constraints in choices had inspired the whole nation to raise against the occupation and he was in the threshold of success. Henry Mpenga, who rebelled against the idea of being told what to do against his free will, had endured through the seven hours of being told what he needs to do; He now stood patiently awaiting the stewardess’ signal that he is free to move out of the plane.

Poignancy...

What is this about poignancy that draws one to it? Is it because it leaves an aching hole? Something that cannot be placed, pointed to? That is so unseen, but it unmistakably stays with you long after the event has gone past? And when you recall it, you really wish the ending, the event or the situation turned out to be different? But the very fact that it was what it was, is the reason one is able to remember it? And when one does, it touches a chord within

1. In salangai oli, an old Kamal forming a canopy over Jayaprada’s forehead with his palms, so that the pouring rain does not wash away her sindoor, unaware that she is a widow and living in his long gone past, where he gives her up for the very idea of marriage !
2. In Shawshank Redemption, Tim Robbins sitting in the library with the Italian Soprano in the background; his face strangely at peace, oozing a strange glow of independence that itself is poignantly at odds with where he was – serving life imprisonment for murder of his wife
3. In “Elizabeth town”, Susan Sarandon, during the tribute meeting to her dead husband, showing off her new dance-skills; as something she learned after his death, the first time she ever had to do something without him
4. A 12 year old kid, perhaps drawing from her own experience, writes a story where the protagonist (a young girl) dies of cancer…
5. In Shakti, Dileep Kumar meeting with Amitabh to break the news of his mother’s death, but hardly speaking a word with each other (and in the earlier Tamil version of Thangapathakam, Sivaji makes it equally poignant in his own garrulous overplayed way)

[This list will grow]

As I write those, I vividly remember those moments; but perhaps incongruously fondly too? For, those have helped etch some memories in me - the differentiating ones in the sameness of every day. Aching, maybe; but differentiating all the same!!!

DMZ Transgressions

In the journey from here to there,
In an unscheduled brief stop in the middle of nowhere,
I stare out of the window;
Into what seemed a deep, dark and dead alley,
Where a single street light, incongruously,
shed an eerie glow.
Under the light, a slight shirtless waif,
Sifts for his day’s food in the waste.
I see the boys frown in his wrinkled brows,
Hunger will be his tonight’s friendly foe!
Perhaps, like before, he will survive
Through one more uncaring night.
As I contemplate doing right,
The car starts to roll on by,
My out-of-sight-out-of-mind takes flight
Out of that dark alley.
After a brief pang of conscience and guilt
Of having done nothing to that nameless son,
I will have moved on.
But that child will never make it out of that DMZ,
Never knowing school, never being fed,
Never knowing warmth, never knowing helping-hands
Those that my son takes for granted.
Living in the no-man’s land,
That is the destitute child of an impoverished God.
And worse,
A effin' fodder to my transient conscience
and to this futile pretentious verse.

I have a Dream !

I have a dream...

...and I’m certainly not Martin Luther King Jr.
To be fairly accurate too, I had several dreams.
In fact, to be honest and accurate, I was an avid day-dreamer.

Please note the ‘was’ part.

The earliest dream, I recall was, when I was 2^nd grade; I was B.S.Chandrasekhar when I grow up, bowling India to victory with my own 6-31. Of course, I was also G.R.Vishwanath, getting “lifted” by this giant – Tony Grieg, on scoring a 100.

Then I was an adolescent – the dream was always technicolor and sometimes confused; but looking back the dreams were a fun-ride with very active and very much day-dreaming - always, with the 20/20 hindsight, makes me smile on some of the absurdity. With the advent of late teens in college, I was going to be the best communications engineer ever – do the engineering, post-graduate and PhD and will be launching rockets for India ! As reality bit, that morphed into a need for simple job later on; and the mid-20s was consumed for doing something complicated, complex and challenging at work; additionally, dream-walking through a few complications !

Then the dream of the late-30s was about the son, what my son would grow up into and how I was going to give him everything that I may have missed as a son growing up; we would be watching a cricket match together and perhaps watching a few other things too, together; I’ll be rooting for him to fall in love and find happiness, but at the same time apprehensive that he falls for the right one…

As I grew the dreams did not stop, they just grew with me – the canvas was different, the art was different, the strokes and colors were different, the songs were different, but nevertheless, the dreams remained.

Of all the dreams I had, I never thought my life would turn out to be thus; and not really sure how many of them have really come true…
But then I could really do with everyday doses of reality too !!

Now, after all these years of hectic dreaming and Past the important milestone (age-wise :) ) of the life, its just whittled down to one:

I have this one dream now - my dream is pretty simple - there would be a time machine on which I would get on, fast forward about twenty-five years into my product end-of-life and find out if this one dream have come true; including the time machine one - but then it seems like a recursive and circular reference error in the Microsoft XL

I still have that dream...

This Land of Heros...

Yesterday:
When Abdul Khan returned to his bed after cleaning-up, he found Noor Mohammad already asleep. Their other friend, Salim, was snoring. Abdul, smiling to himself, laid down next to his friend. He could not sleep easily; he has been worried about Noor for the past few months. But of late, things have been turning around for Noor and he was happy for him. As a celebration, both of them had finished their work today at around 9PM and gone out for a bit of fun. It was almost end of the month and they had gotten a small advance from their shop owner.

When they met for the first time about an year ago, Abdul and Noor hit it off with each other quickly. Both had come to Mumbai in search of work, like million others before them and perhaps million others after them. They had met at work; although Abdul was 7 years older than Noor, the fact that they were from the same town in UP also helped them to identify common memories and places and hence strike a bond. Both had left their places of birth and had come in search of work that can help them support their families back home. Noor had been married for about 3 years and had trouble with his wife; Abdul, meantime had come to support his wife and 2 kids, with a dream so that his two sons can have a better life than he has. Definitely they will have at least a bed to sleep on and a roof over their head, unlike him right now. However, with Noor it had been a different problem. Noor’s wife had left him and gone back to her parents. Noor, in an attempt to get over it had come to Mumbai; but mentally he could not and brooded over it all the time. But the luck was changing in his favor. Noor had received a letter from his uncle that his wife was repentant and hinted that she wanted to return. For Noor, it was a ray of hope – he believed that he would win his wife back. That was about two weeks ago.

Due to the upcoming festival season, the work was tight and the orders were flowing in; both of them did not have much time to do anything else. Finally, they did get some time off from their boss. Tonight both Abdul and Noor decided to go out for a dinner in one of the nicer restaurants and cap it off with a movie. Noor was a movie fanatic and was die-hard fan of Aman Khan – Noor, if he can, will not miss the first-day first-show of his favorite hero. He had not seen the new movie due to hectic time at work. Noor and Abdul had gone to a local restaurant, had a sumptuous mutton biriyani for dinner and had later gone to the night show. Noor’s child-like fascination for Aman Khan never ceased to amaze the more level-headed Abdul. It seemed that Noor almost lived in Aman’s character and did believe that someone like Aman would save them from their misery or fortune would smile at him like it did, unerringly in every movie for Aman. It was a three-hour escape from reality as far as Abdul was concerned. For Noor, it appeared that was the reality! From Abdul’s point of view, the movie that they went was no different from any other movie they had been to earlier – Aman Khan was a poor man, who woos his woman, marries her in spite of all the hardship, becomes rich and in the process loses her and wins her back. During their walk-back from the movie, Noor could not stop talking about the movie and why it was the best ever movie; and how his hero was the best amongst the lot. Abdul could see that Noor identified himself with Aman due to the fact that Aman wins back his wife in the story. But Abdul was very glad for Noor – it has been really a long time since he found Noor to be this happy and talkative; it was a big change from the past. On the walk-back, Noor had also told Abdul, he had planned to go back to his hometown during the upcoming holidays and see if he could get together back with wife. He seemed quite positive and sure about it.

That was about an hour ago. Abdul had told Noor to go to sleep, where he will join him on the outside. Abdul opened the shutter of the bakery where they worked, cleaned up, set up for the next day work. He downed the shutter, slipped the key into his inside pocket and spread his mat and pillow on the pavement next to his friend. It was a muggy late September and they had decided to sleep outside the bakery they work at. He looked down at his friend – Noor was smiling in his sleep – perhaps he was dreaming about returning to his wife, much like his hero. It was around 2.30AM in the night, when Abdul slipped into sleep.

Around the same time, Aman Khan was in the bar of the five-star hotel, downing his 6^th drink of whiskey. He felt good – his latest movie was a roaring success; he had his foolish fans eating out of his hands. He smiled, looked at his watch, exited the bar, got into his expensive, imported and huge SUV and drove off…

Today:
Abdul, in the twilight zone between unconscious state and awareness, was slowly waking up - he felt a searing pain in his leg; he found out he was in a hospital and was told that few of his bones were broken. As he was gaining complete, but rather painful, consciousness, he could begin to recollect what happened the previous night. Just before getting run over, for some reason he had come awake – he saw a huge phoren vehicle that had climbed the pavement where they had been sleeping. After he had been hit, in a moment of lucidity before slipping into darkness, he saw Salim writhing in agony, but Noor lying, scarily, still. And seemed dead – very much dead, with that smile that he went to sleep with, still in his face.

Non-Sequitur:
In the early hours of September 28, 2002, Salman Khan, the bollywood actor, in his Toyota Landcruiser, allegedly drove over four pavement dwellers, killing one and severely injuring two other. Tested nearly 24 hours after the accident, his alcohol limit was purportedly twice the permissible limit.
One can get more details at http://www.rediff.com/movies/salman.htm

Black Thursday

Irrelevantly:

In an unprecedented event, the Sensex (the Bombay Stock Exchange 30 share sensitive Index) fell by a massive 826.38 points on Thursday, the 18^th May 2006. This was the highest ever fall recorded in the history of Indian Stock Market. The financial experts and the newspapers promptly dubbed this day as Black Thursday.

Relevantly:

I first had that itch to try this out when I was a teen-ager. I think it was normal for any teen-ager, influenced by the movies and what that hero [1] had done. Since then, it was something that I have always wanted to do but never had an opportunity to start. Our “out of town, in the middle of nowhere wilderness” college did not provide any such opportunity. When I was in my mid-twenties, I was so immersed at work and at things that bachelors do after work-hours (I’m talking about hanging out with friends at movies and such) that I had no time for anything else. However, the innate desire still remained. Then the thirties came. I was at a place where I had an opportunity next door. I went to that place and checked it out; the place was full of energetic kids. I shied away from that once more, since I did not want to be sticking out as sore-thumb amongst them and with my conditioning, I was pretty sure, I would be; and be an embarrassment to myself and a joke to everyone else around.

Then towards the late 30s, when I was in the US, I finally found a perfect place – it was in the work place and the participants were all around my age; at least they were colleagues. If I was making a fool of myself, it was contained amongst my peers and now I had a safe excuse of being old enough not to be good at it. In fact, some were amazed that I had started at this age! Then I came back to India and was lucky enough to find an arrangement where I could continue the same at my new work place. It was just that I had to switch from one style to another.

Yes, I'm talking about Martial arts - martial arts that everyone got inspired by that one guy [1]. On my return, from being a green belt in Taekwondo, I started again as white-belt in Karate. After 5 years of being at it, I finally passed my black belt test in Dec 04, 2005, in presence of the founder of our style. A lot of people have asked me as to how I manage to balance work and find time to stick to karate training with regularity. My answer to them is always: “that’s why”. I very strongly believe Karate has given me a outlet for de-stressing; so much so that, in spite of the pain that our sensei puts us through, at the end of it, I always feel more lively, inspired and fresh. The tougher the class gets, the better I feel at the end of it. As an added bonus, I’ve been fortunate to find a good and dedicated teacher. Also, I quickly realized Karate alone will not succeed; it has brought in associated paraphernalia – the workout regimen; I found that it is highly impossible to stay through a karate class without being fit; that now has ensured me that I have some kind of workout at least 5-6 days a week.

The 18^th May, 2006 was indeed a personal Black Thursday for me. On this day, it was a culmination of almost a life-long dream and some commitment of six years. I was awarded a Diploma Certificate and my black belt. I was now officially a Shodan (first degree) in Shotokan Karate.

Notes:
[1]: The hero was, ofcourse, Bruce Lee and the movie was “Enter the Dragon”
[2]: If you want to find more about our Sensei and the founder of our style, check out links on this blog site

Adoption of Change

For the fear of Kaavya[1], I would like to upfront acknowledge the following paraphrased quote is not mine: “When asked about the sameness of routine that they go through, most people admitted would like to see change in them. At the same time, if you ask any organization, you would hear change management is the most challenging aspect of their business. So what is the paradox here? It is NOT that people do NOT want change; it is just that they do NOT like being changed”.

So given that most people do like changing and would like to, so what is that mindset that make adoption of change easier ? This could be best served yet another anecdote. I used to work with someone who told me a story of how he got booked by police while driving at 50 miles per hour in a zone that had speed limit of 30. This was in the US. As a penalty for the offence and to save negative points in his insurance, he chose to attend the 8 hour training class, instead of getting a ticket. If someone had attended this training, they can really tell you what a torture it is – they just sit you up and bore with you on all the road rules, and why one needs to follow them etc. At the end of the class, he believed that he would never again drive over the speed limit. Then after a while, once the memory (of the painful) training faded and he sensed no cops around, he found himself speeding over the limits again. So, when he actually introspected, he got the answer; he would actually would not stay within the speed limit, if the only thing that stops him is the fear of getting booked – when there is no cop, he will drive over the speed limit; but if he goes a bit deeper and understand why the speed limit exists and the implications that he can put his life and some other life in harms way if he exceeds the limit, is when he actually starts driving within the speed limit. This is where the internalization for the need to change his behaviour dawned on him.

Generalizing the above anecdote, when we apply ‘policing’ to ensure that behavioral change or adherence to the situation happens, then the act of adherence or changed behavior exists only until the policing is applied. We see it all around examples of this in India – how the traffic rules are flouted when police is not around, how laws generally are bent to suit one needs – this also has an implicit message; that policing does not lend to a sustainable change. I believe this is the same with the organizational changes driven by metric or stricter management reviews alone. However, at the same time, I’m not against the need for policing – there are times when policing helps; for an initial understanding, for leading people to experience the change – it gives the new law (or old laws, in case of India) or the new behaviour a chance to succeed; particularly, for people who are unable to think conceptually and need to experience the fruits of change. Or in places like Singapore – where a sustained policing through couple of generations have ingrained such a change/mindset in people’s DNA (however I’m not certain, given the globalization of information, if it is sustainable). For me this is one way of ensuring change – the Deterrent way.

The alternate way of adoption of change (or adherence to law) is by internalization within ones mind. One truly understands why a change to a new situation or a law is required: one can conceptualize in his or her mind as to why a certain action is required and is in complete harmony with it. They are the people who can actually see the reason of whys rather than dwell on the action of hows. In the speeding example above, the internalization of need for behaviour had come about, since this person understood that why part of it (not endangering any lives) rather than how part of it (keep within the speed-limit). Sometimes, this kind of internalization also serves to do what is right in grey zones rather than doing what is required by law or what is current norm. This is where some of the transformation starts; and some revolutions too. People who can conceptualize the need and can actually visualize the end-state and adopt change through this route are leaders in thought and in action. The path to this internalization could be through experiential or by purely by thought process. The change is much easier and sustainable over a longer period of time, if change is walked on this route. I call this, the Cognizant change.

So, do we expect every change to be Cognizant? Yes, I believe for it to be sustainable over a multitude and over multiple time-periods, it has to be Cognizant. (I wonder if this is the only place, where the "Cognitive" change, is also driven by "Affective" understanding) However, I believe, our starting point for adopting a change could be Deterrent. But sooner (than later), it has to move to zone of cognizance and probably, end up being Affective, as the final state. I believe. It is simple reality of laws of nature – we cannot hold anything or anyone in a state of order for long against its free will. Water cannot be kept in the ice-form without expending energy. When the energy is taken away, it does return to its natural form. Only place the water stays in its changed form, ice is where everything in the ecosystem is lending itself to support that form of existence – in the mountain peaks, in the poles and inside the freezer at full blast in a refrigerator – that becomes the natural state of existence; cognizant of its morphed state in a ecosystem in equilibrium. But more of that in an other essay.
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Definitions[2]:
Cognition (/kognish’n/ )
• noun the mental acquisition of knowledge through thought, experience, and the senses.
Deterrent (/diterrnt/ )
• noun a thing that deters or is intended to deter.
Deter (/diter/) • verb (deterred, deterring)
1 discourage from doing something through fear of the consequences. 2 prevent the occurrence of.
Affective:adjective
1. of, caused by, or expressing emotion or feeling; emotional.
2. causing emotion or feeling.
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Coming Soon:
2. After Change Adoption, what?
3. From Personal adoption to an ecosystem adoption, is it easy ?
4. But Change is Constant, isn’t it?

Foot Notes:
[1] For the context, a google search on Kaavya Vishwanathan would yield several results
[2] From http://www.askoxford.com/?view=uk

Cold Revenge...

Vik was looking forward to the evening; He had an air of edgy tension about him – he was so wrapped in his thoughts, that he realized, in fact, the evening had arrived and its just about half hour away. He had the mien of expectations around him and at the same time he was taut. He had waited so long, worked out of his earlier innuendos by his own kind – In 30 minutes or so, he will have shown his doubters in his peer community; Couple of his peers and their cohorts had derided Vik’s capability publicly and had made fun of what Vik could do or capable of. That had led Vik to be taken out circulation out of potential opportunities for a while. Slowly and painfully, Vik had worked on his revenge. It was not easy, but Vik’s determination had seen it through. Vik would take care of that today; He knew those peers were here at the event too, he had chanced upon them, unbeknownst to them. They would taste what revenge means – that was definite and certain – Vik would ensure that. That would be indeed sweet for Vik. And cold. How true, thought Vik of the cliché – revenge when served cold will be the sweetest.

It was time now, he was 10 minutes away – he got out of his room, walked down to the event and waited nervously. After what seemed forever, Vik heard his name called out; In the Annual Chef’s event, the highly regarded, the much talked about, highly secretive Vik’s recipe was making its debut – he went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and picked up his dessert creation – it was a mélange of mainly Red Wine, Vanilla and Gelatin; and he had picked an unique name for it; Yes, Revenge, the dessert, will taste the best when served cold.