The Rat Race

When you start running, you think you see the finish line. And you don't run, you sprint; because its a 100m race. If you stop, scores of people would outrun you. Tens are already ahead. Your foremost aim is to get past them. Forget everything else, there are people ahead. If you get past them, you're ahead, on the road to victory. After all, its a 100m race.

... except that it isn't. That finish line you saw was just a checkpoint. The sprinters would eventually tire, and slow. Some would stop. But the race is long, and at the end, it is only with yourself.

We know it all so well. But still we sprint. It is easy trying to get past the one ahead. But it is difficult to make up your mind to run that long, maybe even the extra mile. It is amazing how it all boils down to such a simple fact... that we so easily turn a blind eye to.

You have wasted a lot of precious time in reading this post now. Run, my friend, run!

Perspectives

It was a cool night in an industrial fair and I was dawdling around watching people. I like to be alone in public and watch people. I fantasize myself as a philosopher who sees more in a crowd than a callous mass of people scuttling around blabbering strange languages. But for that, I need a subject. And that particular night, mediocre faces and tired people are all I saw. I was getting bored of the exercise and just considering giving it up in favor of a good movie when I saw her.

She wasn’t one of those beautiful, cute or innocent faces that make you stand and stare, nor was she sensuous enough to make a guy drool. But she was strong; maybe sometimes headstrong, very sure of herself and very happy. If something overshadowed her strength of character, it was her wide smile and light step. As I scuttled forward to catch glimpses of her between the thickets of people, I couldn’t help smiling myself. As I watched her delve deeper into the crowd, I followed her a few steps behind and started weaving her story.

“24, maybe 27” I said to myself; “brought up in a city, maybe Delhi”, her dressing sense told me. I have been to enough Indian cities to tell one’s people from the other. And you can always tell a Delhi girl from a Mumbai girl. When you see one dressed to kill, flaunt what she has and tease you on working day mornings, you know you’re in Mumbai. Delhi is more of casuals and comfort wear. Of course there are intricacies and there are exceptions. But my experience told me this was Delhi material.

She stopped by a small woman selling baskets. I went and stood at an adjoining stall and lent an ear. She was bargaining sweetly for a couple of rupees. I would have loved to deduce “lower middle class”; but her sweetness baffled me. Then, she settled for a price and paid, thanked the woman with a smile and went off clutching two small baskets.

It was then I noticed a college identity card poking out of the back pocket of her jeans. That confirmed her age for sure, but didn’t explain the baskets. I followed her around as she bought a couple more trinkets from small stalls while conspicuously ignoring the larger ones. Her ways intrigued as much as angered me. Nothing fell in place. Even after half an hour of watching, I did not have any conclusion on her story.

Suddenly I bumped into someone. I recovered a little angry for my broken chain of thoughts when I found I was staring right at her. She looked at me from inches away and breathed right onto my face. It was then I realized that lost in thoughts, I had bumped right into my subject. I mumbled an apology and moved on. Just as I turned around to see her again, I saw her waving to a toddler on his father’s shoulders. I watched her face for a minute. Her expressions were telling her story, but I did not understand.

Then it hit me. The whole picture came before me, and the strands fell into place. It felt as if just her expressions could spell it out. I could see a little girl from a poor family, who struggled at every step to study; taken advantage of and eyed by the wolves of the society. But she did not yield. Instead, this hardened her heart and made her determination even stronger. And today, she has what she had struggled for all along. And she has come to celebrate it in her solitude within the milling crowd. Her heart is filled not only with happiness of success, but a tinge of mirth for those who pulled her down. She knows she’s on a road to success. But deep in her heart, she’ll always remember where she came from.

* * *

Dear Diary,

It has been a hectic semester and kept me busy. But finally, I decided enough was enough and I needed a break! I went to a fair today; even though my friends wouldn’t come along saying it was too silly. Sometimes, it is good to be silly, isn’t it? Well, it was fun even alone. I bought a couple of baskets; simply because, I couldn’t find anything better and didn’t want to come empty handed. The best part is that I think I finally learned how to bargain.

The stalls all sold stupid stuff that won’t even last a couple of days. However, I had some things to buy and so I stopped at the mall while coming back.

Strangely, there was a creepy man following me all along. At first, I thought that a lone girl in a fair was giving him ideas. But then, he bumped into me and didn’t even try to grope. Even his apology sounded sincere and flustered. But this was far from comforting as he turned even creepier after that. Anyway, I left right after with no harm done. But who knows? If I see him one more time, I’m going to call the police for sure.

Enough of him now and for my tomorrow’s schedule. I have got a couple of classes and an assignment to do. But that is pretty much it. I think I can afford to sleep late tomorrow.

Good Night

Perspective View of a City

You never really know a city. Especially one that has been around for centuries ; it can spring surprises even for its long time dwellers. And it is simple logic. You say a person has his story and a building has its own story. Multiply that by scores of thousands and lo... you get a city. You cannot even dream to decipher all its secrets, see all its facets and explore all its corners. But there is a depth at which a traveler settles for.

I recently spent a couple of months in Vadodara, Gujarat. Basically a business trip; and hence I had very little time to see around. All I saw was the office space, hotel lobbies and rooms; and all I met was prim consultants, formally dressed clients or the hotel service at their most courteous persona. Apart from that, the place looked ordinary enough. I could have been in any other part of India to wake up to the same sight and smells. But this did not make sense for a city like Vadodara. I must be wrong somewhere.

So one fine Sunday, I set out armed with a camera in hand and a heart of Columbus to explore the city on foot. It was a warm and sunny winter morning with the harsh light exposing every hidden color. And then it dawned onto me. The depth at which a traveler settles for- the soul of the city. Two hundred year old palatial buildings staring multi storied apartment buildings in the eye; kingly statues and oriental gardens adorning traffic circles busy with the latest Honda's and Mercedes and BMW's. It was a wonderful mixture of old and new.

Fortunately for me, it was the kite flying season; and the kite festival was just round the corner. The old city was a riot of colors- kites of all shapes sizes and colors with a dash of pink manja spinning on a drum. And all this right in front of the fast food outlets, mobile phone sales/service/repair and "More" supermarkets. That felt like nowhere else I have visited.

But it also revealed something about the people of the city. Vadodara is still that traditional city with typical Gujarati lifestyle, an affinity for honest business and an all embracing culture. However, the bout of industrialization has ushered in a metropolitan culture as well. And this, rather than dissolving in the local culture, has been lying layered on the top- like oil on water. In effect, you see two faces of the city- the outer glitter of an emerging metropolis and an underlying traditional lifestyle.

I do not know if this change is for the better or worse. But what I do know is that the city of Vadodara has its own identity and a distinctive culture which gives the place its beauty and charm. I sure hope that this is not lost in the endeavor to grow and develop.

The Dilbert Principle

A cubicle eye view of the corporate company is not a solitary perspective. Cubicles are inhabited by beings differing in objectives, insights and sometimes even species. This is the reason why Dilbert style analysis is not an everyday affair.

Most of the cubicle community consists of wannabe leaders who figure out that the fastest way to leadership is falling in line. And more often than not, a dash of hard work combined with myopic vision helps. If all your thoughts are focused on the next step, on the next rung of the ladder, there is little chance that you’d miss it. The idea is: If you stay in the line long enough, people would join behind you. And lo! You are a leader. But then, even the line ahead of you is long. So you are just stuck there... ranting about those leading you and making life difficult for those who follow you.

On the other hand, people who make it to the top of the ladder have figured out a way to bypass the line. Hence, by corollary, there are few leaders who actually have had an objective look at the company from their cubicle window. They shot up too fast. Hence, there is a clear dissociation between the "management" and “associates” of a company.

This is never a good thing. The value chain of any company flows right through these ground level cubicle dwellers and this value chain is guided and strengthened by the management. The ultimate result is that the guys on the top apply a complex set of management principles and concepts formulated by pinheads like Peter Drucker, dwelling on assumptions based on their limited visibility and understanding of their cubicle days.

Now there are some facts we know to be facts out of the sheer extent of their acceptance. For example: The biggest advantage big companies have over smaller and lesser experienced companies in terms of quality of work is that the former have well defined and robust accumulating their years of experience. These processes are designed and perfected by the upper and top management. Sometimes, the middle management may be asked to give “inputs”. But that is the lowest it can reach.

Since we understand from the previous discussion that managers have a limited visibility of the actual processes at the ground level, we can draw that these processes have a huge scope of improvement. And this can be brought about only by a right mix of skill, expertise and experience. Too much of any of them would be like too much of salt, sugar or spice. It might be interesting, and it might come out good by accident. But it'll never replace the recipe.

The Ugly Life

The Deep Dense forest was surrounded my villages. People walked from village to village for petty affairs and made paths around it. And when the sun unleashed its fury, the people walked under cool shade of the trees of the forest, relieved and happy. The cool breeze blowing through the forest caressed many a tired traveler and the bright ripe fruits hanging from the trees soothed many a parched throat. The forest was a part of their life... like the meandering river and the monsoon.

But nobody had ever gone deep into the Deep Dense forest. The young showed off by going a furlong too deep into it and the old told fables about it. They said it was dark as night and the trees made a maze no living soul had come out of. The children stared rapt in attention while the fathers and uncles laughed them off as folklore.

****

But long long ago, the forest had borne a child. And for all the goodness of the forest, the child was a demon. It hungered for blood and showed no mercy. But it loved its mother. So she decided to hide it from the world for the good of everybody.

Nobody had ever seen the Demon that lived in the forest. It grew to be as hideous as the forest was beautiful. The caring forest kept it in its womb and fed it with fruit. She kept it hidden for she loved the people of the villages. And though she never told anybody, she loved the demon too.

The demon loved the forest who nursed it like a mother. And so did it abide by all that she said... and ate all the fruit she gave even though it hated the taste. But the demon cannot survive without its kill, and so it grew sick. It lay down in the forest's womb and cried. The forest did not know what to do, and she loved the people of the villages too much to set it free. So she saw her child suffer in pain and bore it silently. As the demon grew sicker, the forest wilted. Soon, the demon died and the forest grew thinner and drier.

The woodcutters could go deeper into the forest and maim her in her weakness. At last, they reached her womb where the demon had died. But it had turned to dust in the rain and the sun. So they cut the dry wood till nothing remained of the forest but barren land and tree stumps.

Today, the old tell of fables of the forest that was... and how it dried away. But nobody knows why.

This story is inspired from a Hebrew Short story titled "The Beautiful Life of Clara Shiato" by Yoram Kaniuk. While Clara was an extraordinary woman who learned to live and enjoy the demon inside her, not everybody does. And in this world, everybody has the right to a beautiful life like clara... even the forest, and the demon.

The Power of Media

I recently read a news article regarding army rule in Manipur and the suffering of people. It was a forwarded mail sourced from tehelka.com. Now there is no doubt what the people of the north east are going through. But the piece was a simple line of photographs, a stirring story, and a direct logical conclusion. By the end of the article, I became so convinced that I almost ignored the basic assumption of the whole article: Are the photos what they claim to be? This stirred me to think what is to be believed in a piece of news.

Today, with the rampant use of technology in every facet of our life has made the world accessible to us like never before. But conversely, it has also made us accessible to the world. The biggest leverage from this development has gone to the media- both the news and advertising media. Today, advertisements of everything ranging from corvettes to condoms reach right out to us, driving consumerism and creating niches and new markets. But that is another discussion altogether. What I want to concentrate on in this article is, the power that rests in hands of the news media, bringing to the common man, events from round the world; and more often than not, perspectives too.

The methods of persuasion through communication are as old as history itself. The power of communication is best highlighted in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar where Marc Antony, with a single speech, turned around public opinion to such an extent that the Roman masses became very angry with Caesar's murderers, burnt down their houses and made them flee from the city.

But there was always a limit to the reach of communication. There were gaps and misunderstandings. Today, technology and mass media ensure that the word reaches every individual of every village with the utmost clarity. This is a very powerful carrier to the spearhead that was there for centuries.

On one side, this has ushered the information age and empowered the masses. But on the other side, it has also handed a lot of power in few hands. And the most worrisome fact is the blatant use of that power. Today, we not only get news; we also get opinions, and perspectives- all sugarcoated and gift wrapped in a clever play of words. And there is no reason for the viewer to think that there can be other standpoints, from where things look different.

And the viewer couldn’t care less. He takes in a lot of it at its face value, unaware of the fact that each individual’s opinion makes up the public opinion; which in turn, makes or breaks governments, dictates share market and controls the democratic world.

Power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Today, with the play of money and power involved in the news media and press, it is no surprise that powerful hands control them. Behind the screens and under the tables, there is a lot going on beyond the scope of public sight. And the common man is fed with what suits them.

This again boils down to the classical clash of the democratic-communist ideologies. One believes in the freedom and liberty while the other maintains that man is essentially greedy and deserves to be kept under tabs. So all said and done, I do not really see a way out of this deadlock. While we cannot do without giving power to media, we cannot check its misuse also. So here it stays in the society as another of the “necessary evils”. But how many can we handle?

Errata: The news article I talk about in the first paragraph was from a freelancer published and followed up by tehelka.com. Thanks Swati.

Apples and Other Fruits

The Story: The apple tree grew all alone in the corner of the yard. It was near enough to the fence so that passersby could notice and look wishfully at the ripe red fruit; but far enough to be out of reach. This situation made the tree proud of its luscious red apples and he thanked heavens for making it so popular. 

Once the farmer got sick in the farming season and suffered heavy losses. He had to sell a part of his yard to sustain himself. The new fence went right by the apple tree. Passersby reached out to pluck its fruit and more often than not, carelessly maimed it. Now, he cried every day and cursed God for this bright red fruit.

I remembered this story while two of my friends are discussing the pros and cons of committment. For the past one hour they have been arguing with each other going round and round in circles. And for how I know them, neither is going to give up.

What they do not realize this is, they are all like the apple tree. They see two extremes of the same position, but different situations. And there are infinite ones in between. There are also other fruits. Just like there are millions of human beings in the world and each is unique. They might be in similar position, but not the same. No single philosophy fits two of them. There might be approximations, but no equation gives exact results.

And then, they do not realize the absurdity of approximations. These people we are talking about are humans, not near humans or humans rounded up to the second decimal. And for each, life has to be perfect... and beautiful. And beautiful lives are not made of mathematics.

Matrimony

Lakshmi

Lakshmi was a simple middle aged married woman with a simple life. She had no big aims, no hopes and no aspirations. She lived every day as if it was simply her duty.

Sometimes, her husband, Govind came home with grand plans of the future- their own house, a car and a better locality. She never liked the neighborhood. In the sixteen years she had lived there, she never liked any of the neighbors. The thought of moving into a street with grand houses with sophisticated neighbors discussing Star Plus soaps and political problems always made her smile. But she could not be too happy, lest she cast the evil eye on his plans.

She knew Govind worked hard to save. But his dream appeared so far away, and the road so uphill that she did not think they could make it with Govind’s hard work alone. She believed she had her own share of sacrifices to make. She cooked simple meals, never got new saris for festivities, never went to social gatherings and neither had any at her home. She haggled with the vendors and screamed at the neighbouring kids thieving her pickle.

She had overheard her neighbors talking about her a couple of times between criticisms of their mother in laws. And she heard nothing pleasant. The thought made her sad. But she consoled herself that when they move to the new house, none of them would be there to blabber.

Then she looked at Govind himself. He worked so hard, always had something to do, somewhere to go. Sometimes, he didn’t even come home at night. And he was always traveling. She could imagine him buried in papers in his office, haggling with suppliers and getting rebuked by buyers and his boss. And in face of this, her hardships seemed nothing. If not for herself, for that man, she was ready to endure anything.

Govind had always loved her, though it was a different kind of love. Of course she could never forget the first night when he had forced himself on her and then left her bleeding and crying . But how else would a first night be? And he always took care of her and asked what to get when he went out. And he sometimes made her sit and listen to his plans. What if his rebukes were harsh? He worked hard and earned bread for his family. Where would a man show his anger and authority if not in front of his wife?

Tomorrow, Govind was going to see a flat. He had seen a number of flats before, but he never liked any of them. It was a Sunday, but there was no reprise for the man. She pitied him as she ran her hand softly on his back. ‘Let him sleep in peace. Tomorrow might just be the day.’ she thought to herself and smiled as she closed her eyes.


Payal

Six years ago, the only thing Payal saw was the glass cabin and the revolving chair in front of her cubicle. She still cannot see anything else, though she has a closer view now, from her desk in the corner. And yes, she is married as well, but that is another matter.

Payal has been happily married to Govind for six years now. And people still get surprised. Yes, there was a time she did not even believe in marriage. But it took a man like Govind to change her views, to sweep her off her feet and bind her in his matrimony. And she has never regretted this decision.

Govind, for her, was the most considerate husband anybody could ever have. They met in a personality development conference for support staff. After a heated discussion over coffee, they became friends. Six months later, they got married and moved into a bigger flat.

He existed in her life only from five in the evening to eight in the next morning. The rest of the time, he did not mind being forgotten as he forgot her. No mushy calls or romance during office hours- that was an unspoken principle. His long travel schedules meant he did not come home on a lot of nights. But she did not mind that either.

What was important was the time they spent together. She wanted to make every moment special for both of them. They usually went out for dinner, talked about their office experiences, shared jokes and laughed together. Back home, they watched some romantic movie cuddled up in each other’s arms and eventually got pretty wild over each other. Their lovemaking was perfect; and made her smile when she thought of it later.

Tomorrow, he would come to spend the entire Sunday with her. It has been more than two weeks of traveling and they haven’t had time together. ‘Tomorrow, he will be here’ she thought wishfully looking at the empty bed. ‘Tomorrow I’ll make his day the most special he has ever had’ she thought to herself as she smiled and closed her eyes.


Govind

Govind was born and did his schooling in his village. Only after he went to the city to do his higher secondary education did he realize what a frog in well he had been. By the time he got his degree, he did not want to go back to the village anymore. As soon as he got a job, he insisted his parents come and live with him. But they were adamant and he was too grateful to them to carry a grudge. So he let them be and himself went to see them once a month.

The fourth time he went there, he came to know that his marriage had been fixed. He was too young and immature to see the implications. So he agreed just to pacify his parents and the marriage took place in a huge ceremony in the village.

Lakshmi was a beautiful woman, but very shy. On their wedding night her shyness appeared very cute; but even later, no move of his provoked her, no touch aroused her. Frustrated, he forced himself onto the girl in anger. He still felt guilty at the thought, but what could he do? He was after all human, and had all the desires they come with.

Since then, they lived together, but at a distance. She never asked about, nor understood his work. And he never asked her what went on at home when he was away. He sometimes tried to converse by telling her that he wanted to buy a big house for both of them and the children; and a car as well. But the blank he saw in her face frustrated him.

Six years ago, he got a big promotion and was sent to a personality development program before he could join in the new position. There, he met Payal. In her, he found all that he had been looking for in Lakshmi all along. As they got to know each other and met more often, he got all the more frustrated over Lakshmi. Thrice, he contemplated divorce from her, but could never bring up the topic. She was too subdued to pull into a discussion, let alone an argument.

Soon, he could hold back no longer. That night, in Payal’s apartment, something snapped. As he walked out of the flat the next day, he felt freer. The marriage took place the following week in a quiet court ceremony. Soon, they took a flat in the end of the city farthest from his house.

Govind has gotten very busy in his work recently. In fact, his boss asks him to take a break sometimes. But he cannot go home. He cannot bear to look at Lakshmi’s face; neither can he smile back at Payal anymore. Tomorrow is a Sunday. He has promised this Sunday to Payal; and lied to Lakshmi that he was out to see the real estate agent. She would wait for him to return, however late it might be; waiting for him to get her a beautiful house. ‘How can I tell her that there is a house at the other end of the city? And it is beautiful with tiled floors, large windows and nice people next door.’ he thought to himself as he stared on at the darkness.

The Feminist Idea

Today, feminism is more of a trend than an idea. Being a feminist marks one as a member of a modern, progressive society quite in contrast with the old world male chauvinism. People don the feminist cloak to be rendered educated and compassionate among peers. However, somewhere in this whole glitterati associated with all the trends, the basic idea is lost.

Feminism is defined as the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes. However the concept was articulated in the 19th century in a male dominated society. At that point of time, the primary objective pf feminism was emancipation of the female. Hence, the use of extreme measures, legislation and concession to women was justified. Two hundred years later, we have forgotten the concept of equality and still hold on to legislation and concession.

Nothing has changed between then and now. Today, the woman is still believed to be the weaker one. Only the same male chauvinistic society has raised its morality. It now does not oppress the weak but protects it. Not for once does this self proclaimed protector take into account that the essence of feminism is not to protect the weak woman eternally with his masculine pride and ego, but to instill strength in her and let her find her own way. How can a society of all powerful protectors and the weak protected at his mercy talk of equality?

Mumbai Meri Jaan

Not all ends are happy. Some are never destined to be. But misfortune has struck you, does not mean that you have the right to keep crying about it. Nobody is singular here. All our lives are intertwined in a giant machinery that has to keep working no matter what.

This is one of the few messages conveyed by the movie that shares its title with my article; and by far the most emphatic. The four stories are all that were left of Mumbai right after the blasts- in one form or the other. These were the four people who picked the city up hours after the blast and trudged along. Sad, shocked, fearful, desperate, angry... people did not know what to feel. How do you feel when something terrible happens to your kin; or just realize that it could have been you!

Indeed, the way the city was back to normal, keeping all the happenings behind, might appear emotionless, ruthless and to a certain degree, inhuman. But let us ask ourselves something, would any of the humane reactions been of help to the survivors? Definitely not. On the other hand, Mumbaikars defeated the terrorist attack, and defeated its very purpose. Mumbai bounced back fearlessly, and carried on, like nothing has happened.

There were some more points as well, that were brought to light; though very subtle in comparasion. And I was not surprised when they were completely missed by the audience. But even if one purpose has been served, I would call it a huge success.

I am not going to give a critical analysis of the movie, perhaps simply out of respect to the theme. But that does not mean I consider the movie a complete addressal of the theme. Of course there are lacunae. But such things can be overlooked in view of a realistic portrayal of the mature way the most trying period of the city was handled by its citizens. Hats off Mumbai!