With the Warm Sun on My Back

 

Life, why do you wander?

Life, why do you sigh?

Come rest-a-while,

For the only thing you do is try!

 

The warm sun on my back,

How I wish you were here!

The pain of not being with you,

Life, it’s just not fair!

 

The gingerbread man is broken,

Life, you never gave him a chance.

With a broken leg and a cuppa,

Look at him dance, look at him dance!

 

Where are you my love?

Where did you go away?

Stay with me for while,

Stay till the words have their sway.

 

I wander around, quiet and calm,

There’s a storm brewing inside.

Life why do you smile?

I took everything in my stride.

 

Where do the sparrows go?

Where do the songbirds lie?

They never had a chance I feel,

Once concrete hearts willed them to die.

 

Songs and birds and mahogany stools,

The steel breathes fire every day.

Help me my love, my life.

I can no longer find my way.

 

The song and laughter is all I have,

Will you steal them from me?

All I want from life it seems,

A chance to love free.

 

It fades, it fades, it fades.

Memories come and go at will.

I wait and look at the setting sun,

My chin resting on the windowsill.

The Hope Eternal

 Our species is a strange one. It likes to believe that all will be well in the long run. As the sun flies through the universe with its tiny little blue planet, the even tinier us like to believe that we are invincible, that we are not a happenstance but part of a larger design and a larger plan.

 

Even our most outrageous stories which dare to explore the concept of chaos, end up bringing the world to an order. Look at our popular culture icons over the last couple of decades. For every Joker, we find our batman, every time an Evil-Lyn embraces chaos and wants to let it loose, a Teela rises up to being order. Even our games call chaos Magic and asks mages and witchers to control them.

 

In our worldview order is good. Order gets things done. Ordre is the natural form of life and hence when cataclysmic events completely turn our worlds upside down, we get afraid of Armageddon. The Hindu pantheon calls upon Vishnu to preserve after Shiva’s Tandava destroys everything.

 

If you have managed to read through some of the older posts, you might see that the questions that troubled Siddhartha troubles me as well. He however became The Buddha and I just read about his journey and his teachings. The three biggest sources of suffering illness, old age, death starts taking new meaning in a world that we live in today. With everything up in the air, mortality has come closer to home. Age crept up while we masked up and illnesses became many with treatments becoming more and more expensive.

 

2020 was the year of survival. 2021 was the year of reassessment. How 2022 will turn out is anyone’s guess but as we have seen over and over again throughout our history, hope is eternal.

 

And as Bollywood puts it beautifully, “If the ending is not happy, it just means the film is not over yet.”

 

So there it is – another year goes by and when we look back fondly many years from now, we will remember how we survived on hope and prayers.

 

Because all will be well in the end.

The New Stages of Grief

 

This is the year of strangeness. A year back no one would have imagined the position they find themselves in. But beyond everything else, there is hope that lingers on. Because hope is what makes us human. That and worrying about a future we know nothing about. Amongst our closest ancestors and relatives, we probably are the only species that worry so much about what the future holds for us. The big primates seldom do. And that is an evolutionary marvel that probably allowed the homo sapiens to race through and become masters of the world around. All that we do is with an eye on the future. Even “Carpe Diem” that tells us to seize the day loses its sheen after a few glorious years. Because if something is an absolute in this world, it’s regret.

 

There are events in world history that change a lot of our daily lives. Let’s take margarine for example – first thought of as a butter substitute for the French Army and the poorer sections of the society it became the saviour as World War II ravaged the world. And then it fell from grace again as the world attained prosperity. Often, it’s all about being at the right place and the right time but more often than not, it is about missed chances.

 

The strangest things however were playing out in our minds and the phases of grief were playing out in a completely different order. In the beginning of the year there was disorganization and despair all around. Information was scarce, the hubris of the human race was at full display and we were winging it in the true sense of the word. Then came the shock and numbness when we couldn’t meet family, things went from bad to worse and there would be a glimmer of hope which would then die down. But we picked ourselves up and moved on to yearn and search for meaning between never ending calls, the need to head back to work even though things were not quite the same. Some of us were luckier than the rest and this was the year I felt we finally began the see the invisible hands that moved every economy. There were people out there braving the virus while we kept safe at our homes. We are now in the reorganization and recovery phase with the hope of a vaccine helping us go through the process to get back to normalcy.

 

At your workplace too, you truly realize who you are. This was a year when the usual stressors at work were mostly at bay because something gigantic had usurped their places as our key irritant. This was a year when you needed to find our who you are – at home and at work.

 

But the truth also is that if you didn’t bother to find that out, it’s all good. By the time the year was halfway through, Linkedin posts almost made you feel that everyone on the world had gotten a minimum of two PhDs with all the time they had in the world. Thankfully for me, I had mentors who told me it’s ok.

 

So here we are, having survived 2020 with a story we can tell our grandchildren. And probably given the strangeness of it all, instead of ringing in 2021 at the stroke of midnight hour, maybe we should pause and observe a moment of silence for all those who we had to leave behind.

 

See you in 2021.

 

PS: Stages of Grief is an amazing concept. If you want to read further, I recommend starting with the book On Death and Dying by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. It was written in the late sixties so modern scientific understanding has really taken this forward.

 

The Long and Short of It

More than 18 months back, in a quiet seaside beach on the Western fringes of India, I had sat down and wished hard for miracles to happen. But first I needed to know that there exists magic in this world. Because sometimes for miracles, you first need to believe in magic. Magic demands pain, Magic needs patience but more than anything else Magic requires sacrifice.

This Blog stopped after talking about the western sentinel. The pain started. The harsh sun beat down on everything beneath it. Mirages sprung up and vanished into thin air and yet there was the belief in Magic.

Sometimes Magic can work in wonderful ways. We do not comprehend fully how it works. At times it has form, at other times it is just a thought. Sometimes it comes from the North East and is called Ishaan.

Sometimes Magic makes a person disappear. The third leg of a tripod gets broken. The other two wait for its return. And in a world of 24X7 social media a person just vanishes. Miss you Bro. Find your peace.

The Magic from North East is all powerful. It drains away sorrow, bitterness and pain with toothless babbles. And yet it can give me the most excruciating pain, never experienced before. It demands attention, more importantly it demands what’s most precious – Time.

2017 was the year when Time became the most valued commodity. Time even for ‘us’ was hard to come by. But then when the tired traveller finds his pillar of strength, he knows that Magic continues to weave its wonders.

When pressed into a corner, the mind works in wonderous ways. For a brief period it went back years, nay decades when sarcasm was considered the high priestess of wit. But then sense and sensibility took over. But the joy, oh the joy of sarcastic wit!

Magic also makes you strong, showing you what you are capable of, making you push your boundaries. Sometimes there’s a battle for your soul and then you win. It’s majestic. It’s grand.

As the year passes on to the next, John Updike tell me, “Dreams come true; without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them.”

The Recap

This year started with a promise to be more regular with my blog and apart from the bursts of a creative itch once in a while, the promise remained just that; a promise; shamefully unfulfilled. But this year was strange in the way it shaped up. Imagine an inverted bell curve and January and December being its end. Starting on a high, falling down the slope and then as the end of the year approached, pulling oneself up to feel nice about the world around.

This year has been a year of learning humility. It was also the year of farewells. Invincibility took a beating; friends said goodbye. And somewhere in the middle of the year; life became mechanical. Imagine yourself as a firefighter and noticing the hidden flames all around you. Will you have time to go and water the seeds you had planted in your garden? 2015 taught me not to lose the woods for the trees, to let go off battles not worth fighting for and not allow one’s own self to get hurt by actions of others.

2015 was not the easiest of years but suddenly somewhere inspiration came up. You realize that when you are looking at the bottom of the barrel; it’s up to only you to pull yourself up. Strangely help came from unknown quarters. A little bird made her nest in our balcony and she refused to give in to the daily efforts of 2 adult humans who kept guarding their turf and before we knew there was a birth. She never moved.

It taught me to overcome my fears and focus on the task at hand. And somehow, things started moving at a more interesting pace. Once you cease being afraid, a lot of changes start happening to your life. And suddenly you feel free.

2015 was also the year when I took the bull by the horns and started driving. Inspired by memories of NFS in Budh Front, I decided it was time to go for an automatic vehicle. However, Kherani Road taught me that NFS is not exactly replicable in real life and dents on your car costs actual money to repair. Sadly no one seems to be paying me for a drift well-made or a sharp turn on 2 wheels! And more importantly the one who always rides shot gun if she is not at the wheels refuses to allow even the least transgression while driving.

Most importantly I managed to read. I realized that the number of books I read in a year was going down in sync with the number of blog posts I upload. 2015 changed that. 30 books along with numerous articles and treatises on marketing and strategy is not a bad way to sum up the year.

2016 will be tough as well. And that’s how Life will be for us in our thirty somethings. The occasional memories of the future that could have been will tug at heart strings but the war will rage on.

“Going in one more round when you don’t think you can – that’s what makes all the difference in your life.” – Rocky Balboa

The Decade of Desires!

As we grow up, we slowly start to understand what life means, sometimes it is an acceptance of what we want to hear, or what has been told to us and at times it is about really really understanding what life is.

As I had entered the fag end of my twenties, I despaired, not knowing the answers, not being close to any kind of realization that I sought. And I could see the decade pass by. Changes came and became part of life. And before I knew it, I was in my thirties.

All through human history, twenties is the age when great things have been achieved, when inventions have changed the course of history, when explorers have found new horizons. And we tend to waste it up, not taking risks or chasing the 5 minutes of fame. And there is evolutionary evidence to support why it is so.

But then I remembered something I had read long back. 2 of world’s greatest religions were started by 30 year olds. One left his house at twenty nine in order to search the truth while the other returned to the city which would persecute him three years later.

But the questions searched for by the former still stands – “Jwara, Byadhi, Mrityu” – “Old age, sickness, death” and so the quest still stands. The surprising answer that Yudhisthira gave to the Yakshya rings true. And that’s where the new decade holds its promise. And when you have your best friend by your side, through thick and thin and failed dietary expeditions, you have the courage to face everything.

Wiser, better, stronger! Thirties is where the game will unfold. A year’s gone, a new one’s just begun. What better time is there to remind yourself of it the decade and its desires!

Why He Exists

2011 was a strange year. Well, every year since 2001 has been strange and it never ceases to amaze me how much the world can conjure up moments and memories that live with you forever. But 2011 was strange because I could sense myself changing; for better or for worse only time can tell.

Exactly 10 years from my first trip outside Calcutta, I made my first trip outside India. I went to Pilani leaving every friend behind and made new friends who will last a lifetime. I learnt the meaning of sojourn that might last lifetimes. I hope Singapore does the same. But the me of 2011 is a different person and I can’t be sure if he is as nice and the innocent as the boy who went to Pilani. Or maybe even he wasn’t that good as I think him to be in hindsight. It’s strange – nostalgia not only makes me like my earlier self, it also seems to shade its many follies and blemishes.

2011 was crazy. I loved my work, messed up my personal life forgetting the small things that makes so much of a difference like ensuring to visit parents at least every few months. But more importantly, somewhere along the way, my unflinching faith had waivered. I have never been able to figure out if I am religious. But I knew for sure I am spiritual. I believe in a power beyond human imagination. Depending upon my world view at that point of time, I am at times a follower of Advaita, believing in the fact that I am His manifestation, at others I can’t believe that someone like me can be a source of infinite power and then I start believing in God in the more traditional sense of the word. Those are the times when self doubt begins to creep in about the absolute goodness in this world which must win, in the end. Or so I believe.

What was worse was that I looked around to find people around me becoming intolerant, argumentative and outright rude. And maybe people think of me in the same light. I really do not know. We rarely stop to hear others’ views. We want to shout and impose our views on others. The earliest Greek philosophers and the Indian saints knew the importance of the dissident voice. The Greeks might have fed a few to lions or given them hemlock but more or less tolerance was a virtue. Today, it’s seen as diplomacy, a lack of spine or even submissiveness. What many forget is that an arrow that has been fired or a word spoken can never be retrieved.

One thing that made a real difference this year was the viewing of Miracle on 34^th Street a few days before Christmas in China. When faced with the question if Santa Claus exists, the judge rules that the people of America have reposed their faith in God and on every dollar bill they proclaim, “In God we trust.” All was asked of us to have faith as small as a grain of sand. Sometimes, even that’s difficult. And we need to remember why He exists. This was the 1994 adaptation of the 1947 classic but good nonetheless.

Nat Geo had this brilliant article on King James Bible in the December issue. It was The Bible that defined the English Language. This year around Christmas as I was cleaning up my attic, I chanced upon my Bible from school.

Everyone interprets religion and gospel in different ways. Everyone reading this would remember the story where The Son of God says, “let who has never sinned be the first to throw the stone.” I always thought it was the best proof that God loves us. I have not found anyone yet who can throw a stone. Allowing such a species to exist is perhaps the greatest demonstration of a cosmic filial love.

The Beginning

“The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another.” - James Matthew Barrie

Our lives are stories. Every one is unique and would make a movie worth watching and yet we have no idea about the way the story shapes up – unexpected twists and turns are all too common, as you grow older you realize the butterfly effect of your past.

“No matter how much you change you still have to pay the price for the things you have done” – The Town

The past has a strange way of catching up with us. In your deepest moments of despair you remember Macbeth and wonder if all that you do is worth it.

“Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more:”

And it doesn’t help if you give yourself a New Year’s Gift in the form of a Dilbert! But then, whether you get depressed reading it and realising how much of it is true, or you laugh it away is completely up to you.

End of a year suddenly might make you wonder and question a lot of issues. But then you are to decide if you would want to get into a loop of self pity or you would rather laugh your day away.

A strange sense of calm resides at the beginning after the churn. Peace resides within us. The point is that there’s a secret garden for each of us to find and when we find it the world around seems more beautiful.

Jo karna hain boss, isi life mein karna hain.

Guardian Angels

The concept of guardian angels is not new to human imagination. We believe they watch over us, holding us as we fall, never judging us if we forget them in our momentary ecstasies. As the decade passed on to the next, I needed them to look after me.

A friend was leaving Mumbai on the last day of the year, 2010 was a mad race, 2011 looked confusing to say the very least, the future had never looked so complicated with a promise of getting worse with every passing year. The life that we lived seemed to follow a strange pattern; the enlightened ones called it Maya. It took the form of a cycle - of joy and sadness, of hope and despair. And we were entangled. It made us look up from the abyss with a renewed hope and made us forget what life can become when we rode the waves.

Maya, the enchantress seemed to rule everyone’s lives. She made us fall in love, often more so as an answer to our inner loneliness than for love itself; she made us forgo our inner radiance for the neon lights in the maximum city; she told us tomorrow would be a better day and we believed her because Pandora’s folly had left us with just hope.

It’s unbelievable how every aorta of Indian spirituality lets man find the meaning for himself, if he so chooses. I love the fact that Hinduism allows me to believe I am God Himself – “aham brahmāsmi”. While people take refuge in the concept of karma and therefore extend it to fate, believing in the inner God in us makes us feel stronger. But sometimes, the strength begins to flicker - the moment before the final assault in Rohan, when Strider looks to the east and remembers Gandalf’s words – imagine his mind which wonders whether deliverance will arrive as the sun rises.

And since the morning of the 31^st, they called, the gtalked, they texted, they let me know that they were there watching over me - from Bangalore while buying mutton for a nice afternoon lunch, from Coimbatore while watching the stars, from Canada while negotiating the first ever time zone difference between us on a new year, from the US while wondering why is it so cold, from Calcutta after waking up from a night of frenzied partying. So on the quietest New Year’s Eve in my life, I felt safe and comforted as I held my cup of hot chocolate in my hand as calls came from Delhi.

That’s the beauty of the angels. They come in when you need them the most.

As I write, I feel the temperature rising in my body as Mumbai snuggles up to one more cosy night. It’s one of those nights when I can’t make myself read what I have just typed out, but it doesn’t matter…

…For my angels watch over me.

Looking Back

Yes, you are right. This is the classic year end post and as much as I hate to write it, I think the year deserves a post to itself. Also a friend called and asked me to write – anything and something. And it’s nice for the ego to be boosted on the last day of the year.

Lots changed this year. I worked like a lunatic against all sane advice of not falling in love with the job. It’s only today that I realize that like everything in excess, this too takes its toll. Like a run down battery, the weekend would be used to recharge. But that’s not the point. On the last day of the year one should be thankful of all the good things that have happened in one’s life. And I have many to be thankful for.

But let me not bore you with my life. Because on the last day of the year the only one emotion you should have is that of hope. I still remember as a kid, I never realized what the fuss was all about the New Year. On the 1^st of Jan, nothing used to change in my life. It’s only when I grew up I understood its significance. In marketing terminology, it’s called the power of a ritual.

When you see the calendar change, you begin to feel a new hope that everything will turn for the better. We do not celebrate mornings as they come everyday. But a New Year comes once in 365 days. That allows this day to become a ritual. And therein stays the power of this day, Tomorrow anything might happen. It’s a New Year after all.

Hope, the greatest intoxicant in my life and it helped me tonight as well. Around half an hour back I was playing with my music player and suddenly “Wish you were here” started playing. Searing pain ripped through my very existence for no rhyme or reason. There was a crazy sense of loss – I do not know for what or for who but I knew one thing. My last hours of 2009 would not be like this.

So as I switched on the laptop for this post, I hoped for redemption. And it came in the form of music itself –

Jaane kyun dil jaanta hai

Tu hai to I ll be all right

I ll be all right

I ll be all right

Thanks for being there dear reader. Knowing that you all are reading helps me to write even when creativity loses track in the woods.

The Manoos have Every Reason to be Upset

So I have been working late nights. But that does not make much of a difference these days. Does it? But today was the Maharashtrian New Year and I really wanted to be a part of the land. Every time I have visited a new place, I have tried to make it my home, mingled with the people, laughed with them and shared their meals. In Maharashtra, I have made vada pav my favourite snack, cried after having Missal Pav and wondered how anyone could bite into the greenest of green chillies. But somehow the leaders that the Manoos have chosen for themselves seemed not to agree to the fact that someone from outside the land could come and be a part of it.

Bandra seemed deserted. Everyone was enjoying the holiday not realizing its significance. Perhaps there was no Manoos left in Bandra. Suddenly I thought of an idea. Why don’t I go to a place where actually I can meet the Manoos? So, the local train came to the rescue and brought me to Thane and there were the Manoos. Thane was decked up just like Hatibagan or Gariahaat for Chaitra Sale. For some reason The Manoos was of the opinion that one needs to bring out processions to celebrate the New Year. So there were the men walking along and the women resplendent in their jewellery and the best sarees sitting like Her Majesty the Queen on their own scooters and motorcycles. It was grand, it felt very Marathi and very much like home. But then I could see the politicians lurking behind the motorcycles trying to garner support. Money was being spent on firecrackers rather than cleaning up the streets and the neighbourhoods. And that’s where I lost all the interest. I no longer knew whether it was the Manoos celebrating their New Year or political parties gathering their brownie points.

Dejected I boarded the train and there they were. Men, women and children, of all ages but mostly of the same aspiring class of lower middle class Indians and they were the last bastion of their own culture which was getting lost in the heart of their existence. Mumbai was taking pride in being cosmopolitan and was slowly losing all the charms of being a party to every festival that touched the lives of her inhabitants. The Manoos is the train were not the ones who touch the daily lives of the readers of this blog but there they were, the young bride resting her head on her husband’s shoulders, tired after a long journey to her parent’s place. There was the father telling his daughter about the ways he used to celebrate. There was the old grandma stroking the head of her progeny.

And then it struck me. The reason why the politicians can play the son of the soil card is simply because anywhere in the world people feel a discontent if they see their traditional ways of life giving way to a different lifestyle. And more so if they see that they are not being invited to be a part of that lifestyle. As part of some general data gathering that I regularly do from my consumers I realized that more and more mothers were realizing that the Marathi medium was perhaps not the best place for their children. Whether it’s right or wrong I do not know. But I have seen a state government reject English and then bring it back again. Popular entertainment on the other hand was showcasing a just few festivals that were becoming pan Indian. I remember my friends from God’s own country loving their first holi but never forgetting their Onam in the process. Maybe, South remembers their culture far more strongly than Urban India does.

And then even though I will never know whether the Manoos will ever consider me one of them, I felt at home. I felt what they were feeling. I knew it all too well. I knew it the day I could find no mention of the Bengali New year is vast parts of Calcutta a few years back. I remember feeling lost and without an identity. I remember my embracing my global identity all the more strongly so that I at least have an anchor. The Bengali culture I had grown up in was slowly fading away. There was no difference in the nights at Park Street, MG Road or Carter Road. The Manoos I realized was sensing this sense of loss and confusion.

People say one day that there will be no difference between a Mumbai and a Shanghai. I definitely do not want it. I do not want Gurgaons sprouting up across the globe.

With my spirits confused, I headed back to work over the weekend.

Another Year

Another year passes away with its highs, lows and steady state situations. Without being verbose, I tried to find the best words to suit the mood. And here they are for you. I have seen most of the times someone else says what I want to say, in a much better fashion. An old song (Movie Jaagte Raho) for a New Year. Have a great 2009 everyone.

Zindagi Khwab hain,

Khawab mein jhooth kya aur bhala sach hain kya,

Sab sach hain, Zindagi Khwab hain,

Dil ne humse jo kaha, humne waise hi kiyaa,

Phir kabhi fursat se sochenge bura tha ya bhala

Zindagi Khwab hain.

The Year That Was

After the hoopla over another ‘new’ year has finally died down, I think it is worthwhile to take a stock of what has been happening over the last few months. The greatest change over January last year is definitely the pleasure of experiencing financial independence. But like with every other freedom, this too came with an associated cost - that of financial recklessness. Sometimes, I do sit back and wonder how any one of us ever managed to have a great time without spending a fraction of what each one of us does now. But that is something that can never be explained. A glass of ‘chai’ at Nutan or Athicas can never be replicated by the most well decorated coffee shop in any metro around this country. It is true that Lifestyles have undergone a complete change. A Mariott, a Hyatt are places that are visited often these days and soon you begin to realize that the thing you want most is to go back to a place called home. The glitter of the chandelier begins to fade away soon.

The other thing that has changed greatly is the meaning of the word ‘deadline’. Deadlines these days seem to have an uncanny deathly shadow around them which seem to pass only when the ‘line’ is safely crossed. There are other minor changes. I have found my long lost taste for quality tea thanks to someone who let me experiment with different blends in the cosiness of my room. As much as I would like to love my competition’s tea bags, I feel that my own products give me a flavour that I left behind years back in Calcutta.

The other day I felt a great kick as I was testing certain Networks. Finally, the time spent in my engineering days was bearing some fruit. It was a sort of redemption for myself. My travels have taken a backseat but my interactions with different cultures across the world are on the rise thanks to the work I am doing right now. It’s amazing to note how different cultures will respond differently to an e-mail written exactly in the same manner. So rather than my backpack, my laptop serves as my trusted aide to help me soak in the sunrise in Milan and the sundown in Tokyo. I miss the carefree lifestyle of a student who used to just pick up his camera and go around the country without checking how much money was there in the wallet but then sometimes things do not work out in the exact same way as you would like them to.

But the greatest change that has come in my life is through meeting new people and yet not letting go of the ones from my past who really matter. So I have this tall cynic who is one the few who can push me to my limits in order to be able to defend my standpoint. In fact, one night last year the lines below cropped up.

The A is A and the B is B

And seldom does the twain meet.

But if they meet my friend you see,

They have the world beneath their feet.

I met a CA who would rather do well as a philosopher in case he finds his tasks unchallenging, and that is a possibility since he makes all this tasks look so much easier. I also met this guy whose career path till now has mapped mine to the last detail, so much so that in the last instance we have swapped bosses and he was there standing by me in the darkest hour of my short work life. But the greatest fun is in perhaps re-meeting people. People from college who you knew to be nice but once they are your colleague, you realize they are much nicer.

So as the year grows older, I would just say, March on…