Cindrella to CEO….. Hand in Hand!!!!

“Listen to the mustn’ts, child. Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the wont’s. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me. .. Anything can happen, child. Anything can be. “

I remember reading Shell Silverstein, many years back, when doing research on Children’s literature.  And every time I read this quote, it would bring to my mind, a number I had heard and seen as a child – Chal, Chal, Chal Mere Saathi. A song epitomized by the superstar Rajesh Khanna. The movie ‘Haathi Mere Saathi’ was released in 1971. I have absolutely no recollection of the plot or the story line. The only thing I remember though is the song and the sequence – the lyrics, the color, the emotion and the charisma of Rajesh Khanna that has stayed with me through the years. I re-live my childhood and the dreams of a romantic teenager every time I listen to it.

As a child, the song captured my imagination with the presence of the elephants. The playfulness of the animals, the simplicity of the lyrics and the joy projected was enough to keep me glued to the screen and watch/ listen to it over and over again.  It felt like a kitten huddling in the shelter of a clasp.

chal chal chal mere haathI, o mere saathi
chal le chal khaTaaraa kheench ke
chal yaar, dhakkaa maar
band hai moTar car
chal yaar dhakkaa maar
chal chal chal ...

phuulon sI naazuk hai vo, moTar mein baiThii hai jo
aahistaa aahistaa chal, usako nA takaliif ho
hai hai, khaa nA jAye
hai hai, khaa nA jAye usakii naazuk kamariyaa bal, chal
chal chal chal ...

And as the years went by, the same song took on a meaning that perhaps was the essence of my life then. A teenager, a young woman, who dreams of a life that has her love in it, a world where there is fun and totally devoid of the do’s and don’ts (that she is otherwise surrounded with), and a realm where she cherishes to be ‘bashfully independent’.  It’s a time where she straddles between her desire to be liberated in every sense of the term (in this case represented by Tanuja driving a car) and her dream of being treated with extreme kindliness by her knight in shining armor. Romance, in my heart and mind, then was a blend of individuality and acquiescence.

khidamat terI kaam de, shaayad vo Inaam de
kar us hasin ko salaam, aaNkhon se paigaam de
paas AjA, o sun raajaa
paas AjA, o sun raajaa
aisA maukA nA jAye nikal, chal
chal chal chal ...

I was surrounded by the all-powerful (elephants), the man who controls that power (Rajesh Khanna), and yet, it is ME who is in charge!!!!  An image that you carry through your teens into youth!. Sounds weird and quite silly at some level today; but well, it was a metaphor that I held on to. I want to be on the driver’s seat! 

tU yaaron kA yaar hai, kitanaa wafaadaar hai
jhuuThaa hai saaraa jahaaN, sacha terA pyaar hai
tU pagalaa, nA badalaa,
tU pagalaa, nA badalaa
sArI duniyA gayii hai badal, chal
chal chal chal ... 

And then the grand finale…. Of the all-powerful being the one and only!  

I have pirouetted as a child, smiled secretly as a teenager, beamed in youth and leered as an adult at the same metaphor - and I have enjoyed every moment of it.  The man who made this happen – Rajesh Khanna is no more. There has been no one as charming a romantic super hero as him. Amitabh Bachchan is and will always be the handsome angry young man. Aamir Khan is the radical, and the rest are …well… stars!!!! Rajesh Khanna is the Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rolled into one.  

I am a very different person today. I speak the language of ‘liberation’, believe in self-fulfillment, and encourage the removal of barriers. And in the midst of it all, feel the flutter in my heart from time to time.

The most effective kind of education is that a child should play amongst lovely things. I have played with this lovely song through all these years.  Listening to it is to experience the ‘weak at the knees’ moment. It is an excitement that is always welcome.

Mr Rajesh Khanna…. RIP…. The romance is still alive in me!!!! 

“Merry and Tragical! Tedious and Brief! That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow” (Theseus' wonderment at the description of the play that Bottom and his friends are to perform. ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’)

Alliance Francaise Bangalore celebrated World Music Day on Sunday, July 17, 2012 and I was not in the least bit surprised to see that the Bard featured there. I remember reading an article that featured way back (early 2000s? in a newsletter ironically called ‘The Onion’) that recognized the Bard as The Ultimate Rapper. My response then was that of intrigue strewn with bits of exasperation. My experience with Shakespeare was traditional… reading him aloud thereby experiencing royalty, foolishness, and tragedy. Then came the day when I watched a modern dramatic representation of “Coriolanus”. It was an outstanding experience where the director presented his interpretation of the play with an eye to contemporary events. The bard had done it again. The relevance of his thoughts was beyond the all-pervading… it was all-enduring.

This was reinforced on Sunday at the Alliance Francaise, where I heard an interesting interpretation of the Bard’s Sonnets (30^th and 65^th) presented in the form of Rap. I love Rap… Traced back to African roots, it gained a lot of popularity in the 1970s as Street Art in the US; especially, amongst the African-American teenagers. The daily struggles of living in poverty and illegal ways of obtaining money became the theme; and, over a period of time, it evolved into a philosophical representation of a society that raged rhythm and speed into its lyrics. To the untrained ear, it is like watching F1… an event that is characterized by high end cars zipping across that you lose sight off in seconds. The trick though is in staying with the speed and following the strategy of each vehicle… in this case, the lyrics itself.

Rapping essentially involves chanting of rhyming lyrics set to a beat; and is often accompanied by drum beats. The rap depiction of Sonnets 30 and 65 had it all - Trilochan Kampli on the tabla, Sameer Rao on the flute and Suchitra Lata lending  voice.  The representation had all the ingredients of Rap – speed, rhythm, lyrics … 14 lines of each absorbed in approx. 14seconds! Earth (Tabla), Air (Flute), Fire (Choral), all flowing in!! The rendition of Earth was remarkable – it displayed the toughness and balance of its terrain, merging magnificently with Air. The beauty of Fire was in its fervor to merge with the moment. The balance of a flicker to an inferno was the need to merge with Rap…

I liked it. It was interesting. It was an untrained ear listening to a form of art where the lyrics vanished in the plethora of diversity!  “O None, unless this miracle have might” the compelling line of all from Sonnet 65 was lost in its rendering. The sonnets are about the ravages of time on both love and life.  He uses the term “dear friend” for the first time in Sonnet 30. The representation was great to the point of different effects brought together … I needed the mélange!!!

Well, Shakespeare was right…Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.  And I do hope that I get to live the spirit of bard through the tides of Rap. After all,… tomorrow is truly another day….

“And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything…”

An African / African-American style epitomized by an Indian band, lending voice to European Lyrics through a native style to a composite audience of old and young, modern, post-modern and the traditionalist….! Now, that’s diversity in the true sense. The weave was great… Could I now see the threads stand out without hurting the weave? The Soul, Sun and Flare and Soular Flare!!!

Cook with Wine… it gives you a high!!!

I think I was about 12-13 years old when I started to observe my mother in the kitchen – cooking, cleaning, doing the dishes and all. That was a lot of work!! Nothing about that entire process was alluring and neither was it repulsive. In my mind, then, it was what all moms did. Her life in the kitchen was important; perhaps, even essential, as all of us had to eat. Well, and who wouldn’t want some good food. A couple of years later I started cooking. Rice, curries, and some of the usual, typical south Indian dishes that we had all got addicted to. Mum was happy, Dad was proud and the rest of the family thought it was normal for a 13yr old to aspire for culinary expertise. I am not too sure on how I felt about that… again, not repulsive! So, it was good to go.

For me cooking was then a recipe:
30 mins of Mom’s time
10 mins of sheer wonder (watching the change of color of the veggies)
15 mins of appreciation from Dad and all those who included ‘praise’ in their life
and another 10mins of savoring the piece of art

A few years went by when I began experimenting with my cooking and well, mom being mom… she just knew. Cooking sautéed with research was like wine and cheese! There were times when people would pick on me for the experimentation; typically, reinforcing the idea that there was only ONE road to heaven. An extra spoonful of spice (which to me was the love of my life) or a dash of more tang would give rise to comments, opinions, feedback and the works. It didn’t impact my mom though. She would give me her smile, at times a ‘poker look’ (depending on the source of the comment) and life would resume like nothing had happened. It was just me trying to be me… and what was wrong with that? She neither defended me, nor rejected me. It was the ‘all is well” look! She seemed unruffled by the comments. Does that mean, I need to be unruffled too? Well, perhaps….works for me!

It was good! An experiment, an adventure and a total roller coaster ride which was filled with its moments of fear and happiness all bundled together. If my stove had a ‘save as’ button like in Word, well, I could have saved all those disaster recipes that I had embarked on! Well, we live and learn.

Today, when I walk into my kitchen, with the intent to experiment, there is no fear, no anxiety, and no sense of “what if.” I am proud of my “what-the-hell” attitude. It has helped me in the kitchen and outside.

Yes, outside too! The need to experiment began with my rendezvous in the kitchen. There was no stopping. There was no ulterior motive assigned to my learning the skill of cooking. It was the sheer pleasure of experiencing a skill that I was exposed to and with no assessments round the corner. I was interested in everything that constituted a kitchen, examined it, handled it, tested it, pulled it apart; with no sense whatsoever of what is valuable, fragile or even dangerous. “No, no, don’t touch that. It’s too hot, too sharp,  it will hurt you, you will break it… I need it.” None of those existed. I definitely didn't hear the “You will get married one day, you need to learn how to cook”. I haven’t yet got the co-relation of marriage and cooking; but, that is a discussion for another day altogether.

Learning is intrinsic to all that I have spoken about thus far. A child has a very strong desire to make sense of the world, to move freely in it, to do the things that she sees the bigger people do. Why can’t we use this drive to get her to understand and grow her skill? I didn’t see my mother divide fractions one by another and hence Math wasn’t a driver for me. I did see her cook and I wanted to cook too. I did, I conquered (a lot more than culinary expertise) and might I say, I am a much better person today. When I feel the anxiety of failure at work, or in relationships, I wear my apron. I have learned to experiment and deal with the fear of failure. Well, after all, there is always another recipe!!!!!  

Vigilante Behaviour

Guess, there is always something that strikes a chord when one is watching TV.  One such moment when I was watching CSI NY; an episode titled Vigilante! A rapist is found murdered and the CSI unit is out to investigate if any of his victims is responsible for the murder. Well, the science takes its course and the story reels on as always, for close to an hour. This specific run had moments that referenced the myriad interconnected factors of the content, values and structure of a thought process that reinforce a behaviour that is so prevalent in a modern woman.

Hawkes: We're wasting a whole lot of man hours hunting a killer that should get a medal for doing the community a service. 

Lindsay: There's a body on a slab in Autopsy, Hawkes. 

Hawkes: Yeah, and he beat and raped at least ten women. I'm surprised to hear you defending him. 

Lindsay: Why? Because I'm a woman I should cheer his death? I'm a cop first. As much as I despise what he did, I don't advocate vigilante justice. Come on, Hawkes. You're a doctor. What would you do if Clarke came into your ER? Hawkes: He didn't. He's dead. 

Lindsay: That's a convenient answer. 

I am a cop first, a mom first, a woman first…. a manager first… and this list goes on! And I thought I was an individual / Anuradha first. How do you go about doing your job / roles and still be yourself? I guess this is a question that has so often been posed in countless ways. There is so much of time and effort being spent in being that ‘special’ and ‘perfect’ person at home and at work that one tends to lose out; might I say, perhaps even forget what the essence of herself is. I am not sure if men experience the same. Needless to say, I haven’t been a man and thus wouldn’t have an answer for that. However, as a woman, it has plagued me. And somewhere along in these 4 long decades, I am not sure if I have lost out on the spirit that governs the ME in me. I do hope not.  

Therein lies the rationale of why so many women experience the proverbial ‘glass ceiling’. The show can’t go on forever. It needs to come to a stop at some point and it is at that point when she says ‘enough’ that the glass ceiling materializes. The ability to walk the talk; a dialogue which she has perfected is now at the brink of a menopause. I guess I got tired of ambling that talk. In Lindsay, I saw a struggle that I experienced so many times. The struggle to put the real me in a box in order to go back and do my job. I did the job, as do most of us, in all integrity, at the end shredding a piece of us.  

The essence of a being is in her ability to be herself sans the mask. I don’t need to be a vigilante to deal with the dark forces. 

Connecting the Dots…

Well, there is so much that I want to do. And so little time. So much has happened in the past 12hours. And for whatever reason, there has been this chain of events that are so isolated; but yet, at some level seem to stand out as being part of a common thread of experience.

Last evening, I visited an aunt of mine; an individual who is so exceptional in more ways than one. Clarity of thought, expression, and clearly someone who I have seen literally ‘walk the talk’ in the field of education.  My visit to her place yesterday, was like walking into a jewelry store and being asked to pick the diamond of your choice and at no cost!!! I walked out with a pile of books, documents and articles -all hand written. Tons of materials on education.  I haven’t been able to get my eyes off all that I see so proficiently written.  It was like walking back in time and hitting the virtual Google.  And then, I wake up today morning to a call from an ex-colleague of mine who was desperately trying to reach me for the last couple of weeks.  A fairly senior person in age (58, I guess) currently with a large MNC. He has been on the lookout of a change of job and was requesting for help. I recall the hiring drive many years back, when we hired Ramesh. It was part of the ‘diversity’ initiative in our organisation then.  This was an attempt to hire ‘baby boomers’ and ‘women candidates’. This was the ‘in thing’!!! And over the years, that I have participated in these ‘drives’, haven’t for once seen the relevance of the entire act.  

We hired a total of 25 ( 5 ex-service men, 10 in the age of 50+ and ~ 10 women). They all went through the same Induction program – an attempt to induct the group to the corporate world. They all met with the leadership team – individuals who waxed eloquent the ‘’gyan” on how to make it big in the organisation… etc etc etc. And then on day 3, all 25 of them disappeared into the ocean of 80,000+ employees in the organisation. I didn’t hear from them and neither they from me. So, what was the point? Why did we hire them as part of a specific initiative, if we did not want to spend time with them? All that we did was to work out a plan on inducting the group to ‘our way of thinking’! And I could see George Orwell smile back at me… with a twinkle in his eyes that said ‘I told you so’!

The intent of a diversity initiative is clearly to get diverse perspectives – viewpoints that will challenge, and thereby help the organisation grow / develop. And I am not sure if we did get their perspectives at all. I recall going back to my computer and resolving people issues in a manner quite similar to the way I did the day before and before…  

Ramesh was part of that group. We have spoken a couple of times at work, have had coffee conversations on specific issues and have seen him struggle through some of the challenges that the corporate world can pose to many. And there was nothing that we did, I did, to help him through that. The expectation was for him to blend in. Well, if that was the expectation, then why indulge in a specific diversity hiring drive at all?  

“Education is meant for development, whether it is meant for the individual or the nation, thus implying the importance of the development of Education”… and this is the conceptual framework and rationale for anyone in the field of learning and development. It came back to me while ruffling through the files that I gained from my aunt yesterday.  THERE IS VERY LITTLE (in fact NOTHING) THAT I HAD DONE TO INDUCT THE ORGANISATION AND THE LEADERSHIP TO THE PEOPLE WE HAD HIRED. We had failed as a learning organisation.   

Google doesn't have ALL the answers. Most of the times, the solutions are right there in front of us. I need to raise my head from the keyboard, look at the person sitting next to me, and irrespective of the age, gender, race… he /she had the potential to set me in the right direction.  Therein lies the power of diversity.  And articulates for me, of all that I want to do!!!! 

Guess I have connected the dots after all… my aunt, an ex-colleague, a handful of manuscripts and my dream !

‘Fire in the Belly’…..we don’t need Pyromaniacs for that!!!!

I didn’t know the relevance of the word “perspicuity” till I actually saw it in play a while back. Weekends are meant for relaxing – in whatever form one can think of. Sleep till late in the morning, late breakfast / an early lunch,  siesta, reading, couch potato and catching up with friends (ahem, on the phone).  It is definitely not meant for one to wake up at 9am and participate in a fire drill in your condominium.  The temptation to escape it was high. I have been through innumerable drills of sort, which includes fires of the literal and figurative varieties at work. Now, did I really want to participate in one at home over the weekend? A cup of tea, the morning newspaper, and the comic strips in vision, I had settled down on my couch with the definitive view of staying perched atop it till late noon. And it was at that very moment, I heard the shrill siren blare followed by a loud banging on my door. The next thing I knew, I was walking down the stairs with the entire neighborhood towards the safe area!!!! This is NOT what I wanted to do.  

The roll call taken, we all moved towards the atrium for a briefing on what needs to be done IF and when there is a fire. Arrrrr, I have heard this a zillion times and there we go again! So, I put on a smile (more like a grimace), took a back seat (figuratively) and with rapt attention inwardly focused on my evening plans.  And from what I could see, there were quite of few of the adult residents busy on their cellphone. We belonged to the category of ‘been there, done that’!!! We, and not our cellphones, were in the silent mode!

There comes a moment in one’s life when you fathom rather sub-consciously of a change in your environment. You then begin to consciously respond to it with miniscule efforts.  I have often referred to it as the ‘magical moments of change’ – a moment that so encapsulates your being, that you begin to slowly interact with the shift. And it is this interaction and the outcome of the interaction that I term as experience.  

The entire drill was being conducted for the benefit of all occupants of the condos; however, the maximum participation was from the children. What is a fire? What can bring about a fire? What are the consequences of a small / big fire? What can we do to prevent it? How can we take care of people who have burns? Multiple questions and all responses (dare I say, very professional responses) / decisions on how to act, coming from the children. They were listening with rapt attention and were thrilled at the fact that they could respond to these questions in the presence of a large audience – their peer group, parents, parents of their friends, et al. They were passionately and meaningfully engaged with the experts and in the entire drill per se. This active participation made ‘acting the part’ for the adults that much more difficult. They had to be IN THE GAME in true earnestness. Any act of falsehood could easily have been detected by this group of perspicacious angel faces. Inconsistency, is almost immediately detected by children.  Slowly, I could see the ‘been there and done that’ group (including me) switch off their cellphones, and slowly gravitate towards the talk. There was encouragement, applause, and pride being expressed – sentiments that customarily do not accompany a fire drill.  Our cellphones on silent, we were partaking of this very heuristic learning.

Their awareness of what causes fire and true to life and reality responses was a blow to my otherwise adult brain that so constantly filters out the most obvious. The battalion had played its part of being my teacher, trainer and coach.

On weekdays, I am busy at work 12-14hrs. Many a time, am dealing with ‘situations / fires’ that sometimes are triggered by a bunch of emblematic pyromaniacs. Trying to douse it is tough. One needs to ensure that he/ she doesn’t get burned. And in the over-zealous attempt to avoid getting singed, the participation and engagement levels drop. The focus is more on self-preservation than on the experience itself. The learning is always on how to improvise on your protective gear rather than to prevent the next fire; which in turn, gives birth to the “been there, done that” facade.  The children were telling me to “Be There and Do That”; irrespective of how many times - the secret code of bringing home my magical moment of change. I am not sure if I am ready for the next fire; albeit, I had to deal with one, I would like to definitely want to douse it with a difference!  

Present Continuous to Simple Present! A lesson in Hope…

I am having problems. In fact, haven’t been more frustrated than ever as the last couple of weeks. It’s the beginning of a new phase of life and there is so much to do. All that I had asked for this group to accomplish was create a logo and start working on some basic stuff. Clearly, the underlying assumption being that any group who is in the business of creativity must be creative … a notion that begs the question ..”where did you get that idea from?”  Guess, the back and forth of dialogues (duelogues) rather have been uneventful (at least for me). My creative artist endured me diligently with his innumerable questions, probing, inveigling, and in many ways (subtly) persuading me to continue with this not so artistic a relationship.

Today, was different! It was again, one of those conversations where my ingenuity was challenged! The conversation continued and finally, we settled on a course of action. And, for some reason, the conversation meandered to my struggles. The foreboding change that I would experience a few weeks from now!!!!! And I listened to my creative artist friend give me the soundest piece of advice I had heard in a long time. The passion, creativity.. or whatever name you refer to it as is a representation of the creator. Anyone taking directions, can only emulate the passion – but cannot and will not be able to replicate it! And true… this is true in most cases. One cannot insist on a vision!!! One can only hope for it… and therein lies the effort. The endeavor to work with people and a well kindled hope…  I have a solution. .. worth exploring!!! 

Menagerie Minds

It was the most gentle of nudges that one can experience. At the turn of the day, there was this little boy, 2-3 years old, who in the most ingenious of ways presented me with an entire menagerie. He took my palm, and with a pen in his hand drew out different shapes and sizes on it and then christened them with the name of a bird or an animal. The glee in his eyes, the tender forte of his hands and the firm belief of what he was bestowing me was indeed a very rewarding moment. There I was, witnessing the brilliance of a child who displayed the ability to think, create and talk about what he felt, experienced and wanted the world to know – without as much as the bat of an eyelid, without questioning himself of what he was presenting and with an attitude deprived of any qualm. And that is a dignity that one wants to so experience throughout. The ability to live out what you think, feel and experience devoid of any constraints.  And it was in that one moment that this adorable 3yr old taught me the most sacred of all theories that I had so forgotten – “Man is made by his belief.  As he believes, so he is”.  This little boy, my source of inspiration, saw the lion, cheetah and all those various birds in his imagination and he lived it in my palm. Since then, I have held on to the images for some time and am convinced that it won’t go away for a long time.

The sequel to this experience (like most sequels) is not as strong… but very relevant and related though. There has been so much talked about the need for revamping the education system in the country. A sizable amount of time, money and space spent by the 3^rd estate gathering what is going wrong in our schools and colleges. Notwithstanding, the government crying out the obvious that we need to invest more in education. 

The question that has not been asked, or dare I say, has been skirted for long. “What is it that we need to change?” OR “What is the vision that we have for education in this country?”  The areas being singled out tend to point towards what is currently wrong with it!

For a country that takes pride in holding perhaps the world’s oldest universities - Nalanda – is it so tough for us to figure out what to focus on? Can we go beyond concentrating on report cards, percentage of absenteeism in schools and colleges, the challenges and travails of learning by rote, teacher qualifications …etc and with single minded effort look at what constitutes the nucleus of our society?  In a world that is shrinking fast due to technology, and is experiencing spotlight conversations of a ‘global culture’, there is this need to expand the territory of individualistic knowledge in the classroom.

We have for long been guided by Macaulay’s Minute on Indian Education. “We have to educate a people who cannot at present be educated by means of their mother tongue. We must teach them some foreign language. The claims of our own language are hardly necessary to recapitulate.” Macaulay’s reference was to that of the English language in that day and age. WE need to meander out of this interpretation, and encourage a framework that guides the child in a classroom – in any classroom to speak in a language  and follow a thought process the he/ she identifies with. The claim of individuality and the belief that overrides it is hardly necessary to recapitulate.

I have been through school, college and university surviving tests, exams and assessments and many a times not! A lack of understanding of why 2 trains travelling from 2 different stations at an x speed would meet at some point… was perhaps responsible for my forbearing absence in the IITs and the IIMs of the world. I believed that all trains got me home and I was content with that… just as the 3yr old boy believed that the little circle he carved out on my palm was a cheetah. And any education system that will help keep that belief alive is the answer to getting it right.  

Acalculia Anonymous

I had to get my multiplication tables right. Mom in the kitchen busy making dinner. Dad expected anytime. The doorbell would ring and that would signal the beginning of the evening chores – laying out the plates, having dinner, cleaning up the table and then crash for the day! However it’s the all-inclusive timetable prior to the ringing of the doorbell that has stayed with me.  Sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, with a math book in my hand and dampened senses (at least I made it seem so), I was crying out loud the multiplication tables, striving to memorize it.  A dip in the inflection, tone, or for that matter anything that could even distinctly allude to a lack of conviction that 5 x 5 is 25 would mean a repeat recitation!!!  

The entire event of trying to memorize the scores was turbulent. The pain was not so much in going through the process as much as watching your sibling, the young master at work... someone, who had gotten the entire thing (dare I say phenomenon) right. If I had got one set right, I would have felt like Buz Aldrin. My brother was the person who could unravel the mystery of these tangled numbers using a magic wand of some sort. He had cracked the code and I hadn’t!!  And guess all of sibling rivalry started right there… on the kitchen floor!

Every child goes through the process and over time learns to deal with the rivalry and of course in my case of not being able to spin the numbers right through school and what more even through college. For many years, I wasn’t sure of how to deal with the fact that I wasn’t good at something  (THAT something being numbers!!!) which my brother was so good at. He just seemed to know it all and here I was, older than him struggling and ALL that mom did was to get us together to memorize them … the operative word being “together”. Guess, she was the only one who knew what was happening there and the WHY behind it all. The principle for bro was simple – get it right the first time and scoot off with friends. I didn’t realize for long that therein lay the blueprint.

Years pass,… and there are still times when I live through the image- and this time with a smile. I continue to struggle on what 5 x 5 is! Bro helps me out when I go shopping. All’s well that end’s well.

It was only till a few days back that the image came back – and this time like the brush strokes of a water color painting – emerging out of the shadows of some secret fissure.  The process that for so long I had struggled with explaining to my colleagues, co-workers and to so many who have sought an answer to the ‘concept of differentiation’! I was struggling through a position paper on Performance Management, the famous (or should I say infamous Bell Curve) when the image of me sitting on the kitchen floor, next to my brother rang out aloud. And with that, the years that followed of me struggling through the maze of numbers.  

And as if like an impulse, my experience of that many years back seemed to be the most logical of moments that I have had. I had been struggling for the last so many years explaining to so many people the need for differentiation through the bell curve. In the struggle for survival, the fittest win out at the expense of their rival because they succeed in adapting themselves  best to the environment. Darwin had come to my rescue to explain the so called rational basis of why my brother could do... what I couldn’t.  He had figured it all out… and I hadn’t – and this difference was the only thing that mattered to me THEN.  A figment of an idea that was the basis of an explanation for all the anger and (I must confess) perhaps jealousy too. My mother, on the other hand, ignored Darwin and had played the calculus card. 

Differentiation (the mathematical term) is a method by which one can find the derivative for a ‘function’ at any point. Mathematically speaking, one could look at a derivative geometrically  (as the slope of a curve) or the physical way (as a rate of change). The slope of a curve translates to the rate of change and the way one could find both is the derivative.  She had banked on everything possible that could influence the slope of my learning curve and thereby bring in that change in me.

The math / derivative had played itself out in its entirety.  Everything required by the definition was true. And considering that everything was true, therein was an example of the concept – of a positive differentiation.  Not once had she tried to push, cajole or pressurize the learning process. I had gathered over a period of time, the motivational factors that governed my brothers learning, learned that it was not just a brush of luck that he had gotten the process right. It was a well thought through function /  a derivative that got him out of the kitchen ASAP. He was in the moment playing out in his head what he needs to do ‘now’, the speed with which it needs to be done to ensure he is elsewhere the next moment. The faster you change, the easier it is to manage the slope and therein lies the difference. 

I had unconsciously perhaps embedded that process in many other facets of my academia.  His ability to be ‘in the moment’ irrespective of what he did – memorized the multiplication tables or the famous speech of Mark Antony, actively skimmed through the voluminous books of Irving Wallace or narrated the humor of Jeeves is something that has stayed with me. I see him today with his daughter in his arms – so totally in the moment....!!

The feeling of dislike towards math which got directed towards a sibling, had translated itself over a period of time to a change in me – the beginning of a slope that branched off on its own. There is no need to work twice as hard to be as successful. There is no glass ceiling. Guess, I have learned to live in the moment too since then. I have realized it just now.  There is the new fangled approach now to the bell curve which I could perhaps propagate – all born on that kitchen floor at some point of time in the past. I need to flesh the ingredients out well.  

The War of the Worlds could well be someone’s Ugly Duckling!

… And I thought I had read it all. Science Fiction has caught my imagination for a long time now. Guess the craze started with Children’s literature and then moved on to the world of Huxley and Wells and Philip Dick! Having lived it for so long a time, it gets difficult to see the world around in any different light. It’s been one those days at work – not so tense, not so stressful – a day when I could afford to look around and observe what is happening around me.  I like these days.  It is a moment when you could figuratively ‘binge and purge’ your imagination – drink in all that is truly happening.  I sure wish I could have a lot more of these. And I recall that it was one such day during college that I picked up Wells …

Have you read HG Wells ‘The War of the Worlds’? Written in 1895, it depicts the conflict between mankind and the aliens. The narrative is in 1^st person, an unnamed protagonist who lives in London as he relates the moments when Earth is invaded by martians. The novel stands out as one of the pioneers  in the field of Science Fiction, and by many, has been interpreted as a piece of literature that offers commentary on evolutionary theory, British Imperialism and even Victorian fears and prejudices. The historical nature of the novel, to me though, has been of little significance. I must confess, that it has been the case with most of what I have read. It is the adaptations of the narrative that has enticed me so often (at least thus far). And, one such,  is its adaptation into a radio drama during the 2^nd world war.

The story was presented as a 60minute narrative, as a series of ‘news bulletins’ which seemed to advocate to an audience, at the brink of a world war, that an alien invasion was in progress. What more, the drama was presented with no commercial breaks; which compounded the impact. Am quite convinced, that it is the radio drama that assured Well’s fame. ! The radio broadcast of this narrative led to a nationwide riot, with people fleeing their houses – most of them not knowing where to head. "Was it fact or truly fiction?" .. was the question that many asked even after being told that it was the latter! The ability of the script writer to wrap the novel into a 1hr commentary, create the immediacy of the invasion, and ensure a script that sliced out the impact is phenomenal. The waves were felt across the continent. It was a day of high adrenaline, of exceeding expectations in more ways than one (for better or worse…)

This allusion to the difference between reality (the original) and the adaptation (radio drama) is particularly so relevant.  The wide spread panic was largely because of the absence of the context. In the throes of fear (a war in this case), one tends to forget what the real world looks like. Did Wells really write a book called ‘The War of the Worlds’? Is it relevant at all? How many of the listeners knew about it. And if they did, how many could recollect.  The reality was the ALLIES and the AXIS and both words so much in beat with ALIENS! There were no sources for differentiation and the boundaries had blurred.

The pulse is the same as of today. The requisite to make the whole shebang ‘relevant’, the demand to ‘leverage’ of what is already available, the pressure to not ‘reinvent the wheel’ and the incessant need of ‘less is more’ tends to mask the reality – a reality where an individual yearns to be original, thirsts for innovation, even disruptive ones perhaps and seeks to be relevant from his / her frame of reference.  The adaptation enticing thus far has become a negotiable moment.  Any narrative lends itself to the moment and a silent panic ensues.  

There is this War of the Worlds struggling in many of us- an unrest caused by the combat between voices (heard, not seen) in a context that could well be the figment of our imagination.  The poise for ingenuity and adaptation and the involvement of both is the need for the hour.  The ugly duckling is lost in a world that is unknown to him …. Yet unaware that round the corner the swans exist! 

The Cold Cloud

Guess there are some revelations that hit you at the dead of the night.  It was around, I guess midnight, while watching TV, and amidst all the sniffing that one experiences with the onslaught of a cold, the constant use of a vaporub and the incessant sipping of rum and hot water; hoping that it will make you feel better – that I heard a shrink (ahem, on the other side of the screen) not so subtly assert “if you want to feel better, take a pill. If you want to get it right, face the truth”

The TV screen for the last few days has been a source of providing the ‘distraction’ that one so needs in the throes of a cold and sore throat. And suddenly, it was more than a distraction for me  ...just then!  Guess, I do want to feel better and the irony of it all…there is no real medicine for the common cold. I just have to wait for it to just ‘go away’ and then there hit me the familiar parenting words ‘why are you suffering so often … why don’t you try and understand the reason… etc etc…??” Guess it was like a jigsaw puzzle that falls into place, all of a sudden. 

It was like becoming aware of a feeling that for long existed – with the knowledge of its existence. Not knowing why it was there, how to deal with it and convinced with the consoling words that one often listens to ‘time will tell! It’s all a matter of time’. Guess, one is made to believe that life’s conundrums are like the common cold demanding the patience of time to heal through.  The anxiety of dealing with a decision taken, the nervousness that follows through, the fear of failure, and perhaps the lure of the pragmatic to stay on with status quo.  The heart and the head are never ever aligned. The head says, take the pill… the heart says, face the truth.  

The expression of my face and the language of my body – inert with the suffering of the most common of ailments and I need to get out of it. The truth is not so much the anxiety of dealing with the decision taken – as much as that of the need to prove the rationale of it. The fact  is not so much in the nervousness of the follow through as much as the need to find some inspiration ..someone who has taken the same road. The veracity is not in accepting the fear of failure but in working through the phase before one meets with success.

This heavy breathing just requires that strength of character and a very obtuse sense of bearing to address the anxiety – to set oneself at an angle and listen to your breath resonate.  It IS quite something…. Listening to yourself breathe.  Guess, I don’t need the pill after all… (not that there is one) for this so common an (h)ailment….