Lessons in confidence building

the narrow lanes leading to the dargah e sharif are dotted with these tiny hole-in-the-wall eateries. serving simple fare, these eateries do brisk business feeding the returning pilgrims. 

one such family run eatery had a little fellow, about six years old, who was tasked with baking the rotis on a hot tava while his mother rolled them out for him. the task was simple enough, bake one side, turn the roti over, bake the other side and off it goes to the plate of a hungry pilgrim. 

maybe it was sheer boredom or may be the lad was mischievous, but the fellow instead of just turning the rotis over was instead flipping them high trying to get them to turn in the air and land on the tava. mostly the rotis landed in a heap which he hastily straightened out. and every time it landed in a heap he giggled and looked sheepish while his mom rolled her eyes and asked him sternly, but clearly indulging, to stop the nonsense. i sat in the corner watching all this when just like that a roti nailed its landing. perfectly flat and the right side down. his eyes lit up, his mom's eyes lit up and i hastily put up my hand asking to be served that roti. there was a moment of quiet joy. and then it was back to rolling, and flipping and heaping, and giggling and the invariable gentle admonishing.

we as parents, and elsewhere, as leaders, often struggle to create an environment where mistakes aren't treated as mishaps but as opportunities to learn and be perfect.

i dont know where this little lad will end up when he eventually grows up but as a tiny tot he has already experienced an environment we so struggle to create.

Lest we forget

last night as i was driving from the kumbhalgarh fort towards my homestay i passed through a little town called kelwara, and as i passed by the main bazzar i sensed a little commotion. it looked like a bunch of excited youngsters putting up some sort of a billboard..

i paused, wondering, and as i rolled down the windows i heard desh bhakti songs. i got off and took a closer look. yup, just as i thought, the boys were putting up some sort of a memorial for the pulwama jawans.

the feelings were clearly running high and a few 'bharat mata ki jai' rang in the air. then somebody began to sing the national anthem. as i joined in, my tears began to flow. throughly embarassed i tried to stem the flow. it wouldn't. fuck it, i said, let them flow. and i wept like a baby.

i really wish those tears were tears of grief, pain or anguish, instead they were hot tears of rage, helplessness. i cried for us all, for finding ourselves in such a bind. given our military might avenging these lives would be so easy. and yet i know, the easy sometimes sits on a very slippery slope.

i know not how these lives will be avenged, but certainly they werent lost in vain. as i stood with this tiny group of people in a tiny tiny part of the nation i felt a tide of emotion which seemed to be sweeping everywhere... thats takes some doing...

Being energetic

i have often been asked, what keeps me energised. whats the secret of my enthusiasm. i pondered long and deep. and it comes down to a beautiful word in urdu. 

हैरानियत (hairaniyat)

the state of being in wonderment. 

its multilayered, this word. 

at the very least being in wonderment fills me with appreciation and gratitude. i like the way it feels. so i keep searching for things that keep me in wonderment. and the more i look, the more i find.

then again, i know life is, and will always be, a pendulum swinging back and forth, between the good and the bad and the ugly. being in wonderment helps dealing with the bad and the ugly. it keeps me upbeat just long enough for the pendulum to eventually swing in a rosier direction. 

isnt that a bit delusional? 

am i overlooking, even belittling, things that may grow behind my back and eventually sock me in the face when i am least expecting?

interestingly the word in urdu for the bad and the ugly is हैवानियत (haiwaniyat). and i can see why one should be wary of this darkness. haiwaniyat sounds very powerful, very sinister, very persistent. and i can also see why it may seem delusional to look away from something so bad. 

so i pondered more, dug deeper. and the beauty of it all revealed itself. hairaniyat doesn't force you to look away, it helps find something good in the darkest of things. and once that good is found it begins to eat the darkness away, from inside. slowly, steadily. 

ofcourse, the darkness will sock me in the face, knock me down, drive me into rage and despair but i know it's losing and i know it cant keep me down forever. i know i eventually will be back on top. 

and that fills me with energy.

and that is my secret

Roma, The Immersive Opus

way back in the seventies the big daddies, satyajit ray, mrinal sen, ritwick ghatak et al, decided to be voyuers. and out flowed a flood of movies which the confounded critics termed as immersive experiences.

nothing much happened in these movies other than a camera following people around, sometimes in excruciating cringe worthy details. who can forget the eight minute long shot of a starving man eating and eventually choking on a bowl of rice, or two kids fascinated, minutes on end, by 'singing' telegraph wires.

interestingly these movies invariably end abruptly. almost as if even the director had enough and just sprang from his seat shouting 'its a wrap'  or maybe he just realised he was running out of budget

whenever i saw these movies i did three things, at some point i wondered where was all this headed, at some other point i would sneakily lookup the timeline to see how much is still left, and at the end, when it abruptly ended, i wud swear 'wtf' under the breath

however these movies had their moments and there were times when the details would jolt one into realising that one is not paying enough attention to the smaller more important things in life.

so will roma. it is as immersive as movies can get and it will take you on a ride in such minute details that you will wonder whether you bought a movie ticket or did you instead hop on a flight to mexico.

and i am equally sure that you will feel that sense of deja vu, the sense that though you are watching people out there in mexico, things aren't so different after all. that all of us live similar lives. do similar things. at one point in the movie a maid goes about wrapping up the house at night, and the camera follows her as she goes room to room switching off the lights, and then in the end when all the lights are off she walks over to a corner lamp and switches it on. i smiled. thats exactly what i do too.

it has its cringe worthy moments, for sure. i dare you not to flinch at two scenes, once in a bedroom and once in a hospital. and yes, i did wonder at one point where was this headed and yes, when it ended i did swear under my breath.

did i love it? well, lets just say i wasn't anywhere close to hating it.

Cafe Musings

i recently spent some time with a very wise lama, and he told me that if you want to build something beautiful then begin with the courage that in the process of making it you may break it / destroy it

overcome that fear, then maybe, just maybe, you may get lucky.

this overcoming fear thingie applies at various levels...but at the root of it lies the message that fear is not your friend...in everything

being careful and being fearful is not the same thing.... not by far...

 if you feel hesitation, then see if there is any fear lurking behind that hesitation... 

incidentally fear has an interesting way of claiming power you, it puts on the 'past experiences' hat and pretty much locks you down...

look it in the eye and say 'haan, toh???'

A rabbit and the Art of brewing a coffee

i daresay i understand a bit about coffee. after all its been over 5 years since i began tinkering with expresso. so when i drove into coorg last week for further exploring coffee i felt as if i would be on familiar grounds.

nada. 

i was somewhat certain in my knowledge that extracting a great brew was all about the 15 bar pressure, the right grind, freshest bean, the roast date, good water, a clean machine and all that... i loved the inherent complexity, it felt as if i had a special skill, to get it all exactly right.

it seems all i really need is a simple filter cup, some hot water and ground beans. 

and time. 

in this last essential ingredient lies not just the secret of a good cuppa, but also the entire approach to life itself.

back home i would take a mere 4 to 5 minutes from switching on my machine to pouring out an expresso. out here the filter coffee takes nearly an hour as it slowly drips drop by drop. 

so whats actually happening...

way back when i was a wee little lad, i had a pet rabbit. frisky little fellow. but he had a rather bad habit. he liked to run and hide. when i  got back from school and he would go run and hide it was all fun and games, and i loved it. but at nightfall when i had to go fetch him indoors, for his own safety, mind you, and he went and hid behind this pile of tiles, it wasnt fun and games anymore. 

i would crouch and cajole and entreat, but the bugger squeezed himself deeper, always just a little beyond my reach. and i wud get really upset. it wud end up with me somehow reaching in and yanking hard at his ears, often bruising my wrists on those sharp tiles. 

then came diwali and with it came phatakas and kids being kids i found a solution to my nightly troubles. if it was taking too long i simply lit a cracker behind the tiles and the poor rabbit shot out from his hole, shit scared and half out of his wits. job well done, time to go home.

now lets think of the tiles as a coffee bean, and my rabbit as the delectable brew. and the point of it all was to extract the rabbit out of the tiles. 

the 15 bar pressure expresso machine is the equivalent of a lit cracker. light it up, hear the angry hiss and voila, the brew is pouring out. almost instantly.

the filter cup is the equivalent of me waiting patiently till the rabbit in his own good time wants to go indoors.

the question i am asking, is my expresso back home just as shit scared and half out of its wits??? 

Moon musings

i feel that the reason moon ranks so high among the things romantics cherish is that its glory, its mystique, its beauty, all, all of it is based on a reflected glory... the light that lights it up is not its own, not something thats within. it is entirely from someone else...

i am just a rock, floating around, barren and dark... you come around and fill me with light, with beauty, with purpose... and now the world finds me beautiful....

thats the very core of being in love ..

Essense of being a chauffer

its that kind of day when one wakes up and  knows for certain its going to be a good one. something in the air, maybe. but in my case its something in the room. well, two things, to be precise. aj is home from college and she and her delectable mom, mj, are busy fussing over the clothes for the upcoming cousin's wedding. having these two in a room is reason enough for my day to go well but things were destined to reach higher. i got promoted. the women needed to be at several places, shopping and stuff, and i was to be the chauffeur !!! happy happy... 

my duties were simple enough, drive, take them places, and then be out of sight till its time to drive again. that 'be out of sight' business is steeped in history. on a shopping trip i was once asked for my opinion on something simple... dont remember exactly, but something like what goes well with what... i gave it a thought and then gave my opinion. aj was shocked, mj was shocked, the shopkeeper was shocked, so was his assistant and also this ramdom shopper who happened to be there. pretty much everybody, truth be told. 

since then the stipulation that i drive and then disappear is pretty much part of the whole being a chauffer business. take it or we will uber it. 

well, one cant have everything, can one? life is like that. and i am taking it. happily.

Mystical Mist

i was young, in love, and desperately in need of some privacy with my loved one, and nature played cupid. years later we still reminisce the 'dhund wale din', the magical time in winters when nature enveloped you in a white sheet and nudged you to dare in plain sight. that the best we did was hold hands, or neck a bit may seem silly now, but back then that was being really brave and stupid. and we got our rushes. no denying. 

its years later now, this morning as i was driving i sensed a fog envelope me, it was the season's first and i smiled. its still holds the same mystique, the same romance. and as if on que, google music played 'yeh zamin ga rahi hai, yeh aasman ga raha hai, saath mere yeh sara jahan ga raha hai...'

it was a moment of pure magic

Parent Musings

princess, there are two instances that happened in the last couple of days that really gave me a reason to smile....

first instance... the Australian Open finals... an ageing legend pitted against a 'worn out' champion who had lost his mojo.... the odds were 5000:1 that the two would meet in the finals...they did and both played their hearts out.... those watching agonized to the point of being sick with anxiety as the match swung back and forth....

of course the legend eventually prevailed.... then he spoke a few words as he held up the trophy... you may have watched it, princess, if not, watch it.... what he said made one thing clear

good guys DO win, and when they do and speak abt that win, its not just them who feel they have won, its the opponent, the game, those who watched, everybody feels they won ....

second instance.... the 2nd T20 match between India and England...  we had lost the 1st match so we were playing to stay alive in the 3 match series.... on the other hand England was on top for the first time in many months and they needed this win more for self belief than anything else

it was a high stakes match... and it was fought tooth and nail coming down to the last over... England needed to score just 8 runs in the final over... 8 runs in 6 balls in a T20 match is like bread and butter stuff....

the youngster jasprit bhumrah got the ball... and unbelievably gave just 2 runs in 5 balls.... so England needed the maximum to win. as bhumrah prepared to bowl that last ball, everybody was telling him their two bit, what to bowl, what length, what side, what speed, and it was clearly spooking him out, confusion written all over his face...

then virat went and said something, it looked as if bhumrah suddenly knew what he had to do, all confusion wiped out. he went, bowled and and leveled the series...

the question on everybody's mind was what exactly did virat say... it turns out he didnt say a word about what to bowl... instead he said, "bumrah, worst case it will be a six, and we will lose, but it doesn't matter, the sun will rise tom, just go bowl...."

Tasting Notes

was doing a little experiment

tasted whisky, three ways...

straight up

with water

with soda

the first two times there was a trend...

straight up tasted full bodied, numbed the tongue a bit, went down like a gale, strong and visible

with water it was mellow, still full bodied, maybe like when somebody turns the volume down on a song... its still the same, but u have to try harder, pay more attention...

then came the 'with soda'

oh boy...

i took a sip and it was like somebody just changed the record... it was a totally new song

it danced on my tongue, popped bubbles and took the whisky on a roller coaster...

different beat, maybe different genre, like u were listening to jazz and somebody just popped in a rock n roll tape..

btw, i did some more digging and it turns out soda isn't neutral in taste... the carbonate in the soda messes up the buds totally.

i just tasted soda, and u bet it tasted sour, kind of metallic sour...

yeah, of all things, sour!!

imagine what that sourness does to all the hard work that went into the malting and the distilling and the aging, all that dedication and patience, all that expertise...

now i am wondering.... i pay a few thousand for a whisky and a couple of tenners for a soda.... why then would i ever mix the two and let the vagabond run the show...

this is like somebody spent months planning the prom, got the girl, and when the moment came a hobo trooped in and took the dance...

Essense of understanding

When seeking meaning one often gets too involved with the words. An old story speaks about a similar problem.

 A devoted monk, after years concentrating on a particular mantra, had attained enough insight to begin teaching. His humility was far from perfect, but the teachers at the monastery were not worried.

A few years of successful teaching left the monk with no thoughts about learning from anyone; but upon hearing about a famous hermit living nearby, the opportunity was too exciting to be passed up.

The hermit lived alone on an island at the middle of a lake, so the monk hired a man with a boat to row across to the island. The monk was very respectful of the old hermit. As they shared some tea made with herbs the monk asked the hermit about his spiritual practice. The old man said he had no spiritual practice, except for a mantra which he repeated all the time to himself. The monk was pleased: the hermit was using the same mantra he had himself mastered -- but when the hermit recited the mantra aloud, the meditator was horrified!

"What's wrong?" asked the hermit.

"I don't know what to say. I'm afraid you've wasted your whole life! You are pronouncing the mantra incorrectly.

"Oh, Dear! That is terrible. How should I say it?"

The monk gave the correct pronunciation, and the old hermit was very grateful, asking to be left alone so he could get started right away. On the way back across the lake the monk, now confirmed as an accomplished teacher, was pondering the sad fate of the hermit.

"It's so fortunate that I came along. At least he will have a little time to practice correctly before he dies." Just then, the monk noticed that the boatman was looking quite shocked, and turned to see the hermit standing respectfully on the water, next to the boat.

"Excuse me, please. I hate to bother you, but I've forgotten the correct pronunciation again. Would you please repeat it for me?"

"You obviously don't need it," stammered the monk; but the old man persisted in his polite request until the monk relented and told him again the way he thought the mantra should be pronounced.

The old hermit was saying the mantra very carefully, slowly, over and over, as he walked across the surface of the water back to the island.

Sounds of silence

i have always wondered what is the sound of silence.... for never have i ever heard it. no matter how quiet it is i always manage hear something...

then it struck me, its not the hearing that takes u there,  its the feeling.... some sounds by their presence make me aware of the silence.... of the peace and the quiet.... like right now.... admist the gentle waking of the dawn, the chirping, the tweeting, all in the distance, muted. the rustling of wind blown leaves, the final thwacks of the night watchman's bamboo stick, and in the distance a cowherd and the jingling of cowbells....
among them i feel the sound of silence.... i laze some more, greedily dragging out the moments....

Parent Musings

as a child i often looked towards the skies, and when i spotted an aircraft flying i would hold up my palms and track it thinking to myself i was holding it up, and guiding it on its way. it made me feel very powerful....

as a parent i still look up at the skies, only now i often see AJ flying high up and when i do i immediately hold up my palms and start tracking her. i would love to tell myself thats its me who is holding her up, and guiding her.... but i know better now.....

how she feels me with pride only i know.

Carefree Dancer

ramjo ye ramiye befikre, je bajuma baki na ramiye

dance you carefree dancer, how does it matter that the others are still...

i was thinking how in most ancient languages there is no difference between the being and the doing, both are described by the same word...so 'ramiye' here stands both for the dancer as well the act of dancing....at one level it makes things so simple....u are something so just be it...no layers, no masks, no complications...