Reflection

Dedicated to that one person who has been one of the greatest influences in my life, and changed it forever. And today, yet again, in complete honesty and humility, I accept this rein.

I am now a mere reflection of you.

A little hazy, a little dim, but true.

Its the same strength of character,

The same weakness of the heart.

Same spice in food,

And chapati a bit hard.

It's a well-coordinated attire,

With left behind a messy room.

It's the same lack of any desire,

And a long haul of gloom.

We make a pun, but never ridicule,

Some flavors, some liqueur, and for mind its fuel. 

There is no evident reason, no clear goal,

But in putting it all together, we put our heart and soul.

With precision in executions,

And confusion in decisions,

We keep moving forward, within our limitations.

Always lost in thought, a temper bit hot,

No lofty ambition, but some bit everyday saught.

A need to earn, a fear to spend,

In a big wide world, not a single friend.

No bucket list, only pending tasks,

Few moments of quiet & peace are our only asks.

A change so slow, A change so stark,

Footprints of time, leaving a deep mark.

It's as true for me as is for you,

It changed the moment we said 'I do'. 

If someone looks at me closely, they will see you,

A little hazy, a little dim, but ONLY you.

As now I am nothing, but a mere reflection of you.

A little hazy, a little dim, but Truly You!!.

The Lucky Seventh

It has been seven years since I published the first piece of Itts-Bitts. Seven years and seventy-seven pieces later, I decided to pause, to look back, and then take a new turn.

 

No, none of it was planned from the beginning. In fact, nothing was planned in the beginning. It had just started as an attempt to pen down some random thoughts, some memorable experiences, and some life-changing lessons. The name itself symbolized little pieces of life and of me.

Each piece had a part of me, each molding me a bit with it. Every time I reflected on a write-up, it made me see myself more clearly. It helped me understand my emotions. It made me structure my thoughts. It allowed me to write what I couldn’t say. It pushed me to a conclusion. And then to start all over again, with something new, something afresh, something previously undiscovered.

I continued over the years, more to fill my bowl of joy. It was always a hobby that pulled me towards itself. The thought of writing excited me. The idea of publishing it made me nervous. And the reader’s response scared me. I could never write for them. It was always for myself first. It was always for the joy of writing, rather than the want of being read.

Thus, I never quite made an attempt to take it any further. I wrote when I felt like writing. I wrote about whatever caught my attention. I wrote my perspective on things. At times I shared my writings with the wider world. At times with a few close friends. And some pieces, with no one. They were kept there, like a photograph in an old album, which no one bothers to see.

Many of my friends told me to take up writing professionally. They suggested I write stories or novels or should even consider blogging as a side profession. But I was never ready to take a plunge. I could never force myself to write something. The pressure of writing often and writing well would take away the pleasure of writing. Adding performance pressure would mean I start measuring myself. It meant setting benchmarks, it meant raising hopes and then striving to meet them. Honestly, I did try tracking page-views for some of the posts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, they were always quite contrary to my expectations. Thus after a few failed attempts, I decided to retract to my comfort zone. To enjoy the process of writing, rather than trying to sell my writings.

 

However, today I am forced to revisit Itts-Bitts. Two recent events made me pause to think, to look back with a sense of pride, and take a step forward with a greater level of confidence.

During a recent official conference call, I found myself alone with a senior director of my company. As we waited for others to join, we started with some trivial conversations. We had just resumed work after a long weekend, and he asked me how I had spent my time. I, in full honesty, told him that I spent a good chunk of my time completing a write-up for my blog. As we continued on the topic, I told him what I had told many others, many times over the years. I spoke about Itts-Bitts being more of a passion than a profession, about how it helps me delve deep into a topic and how it makes me structure my thoughts. I also spoke about how I have never put any real effort in marketing my work. He nodded in agreement and also asked me a few other details about this hobby of mine. It was during one of those points that I casually mentioned crossing 30k page views over the years. And his eyes popped out, “Thirty thousand page views!!! All this while when you spoke, I thought you may have a few hundred page-views, considering your limited audience. But thirty thousand page-views means there is a world out there looking at your stuff!! And that, my friend, is an incredible job.”

A week later to this conversation, I was casually chatting with a close friend of mine. At some point in between, he asked if I am working on a new write-up. He has been religiously reading my articles, and also sharing candid feedback for some time now. As I mentioned the soon approaching 7^th anniversary of Itts-Bitts, he seemed quite happy about it. As always, I repeated my same old, much-beaten track – of it just being a passion and not a profession. He made me stop in the middle, “You at least have a passion!! a hobby, a gainful engagement, which you have sustained and nurtured for seven long years. Most of us don’t even know what they like. People like me spend their time with whatever comes their way. While you manage to give it a direction, a shape, and a form. And that, my friend, is a big achievement.”

Both these conversations left me with a sense of pride, a feeling of satisfaction. While I have received many compliments over the years, and they all have been special in their own way. Yet, these two conversations, surely made me see Itts-Bitts in a new light.

 

Yesterday was the 7^th anniversary of Itts-Bitts. As I started my day, an email popped up on my window, indicating receipt of a gift. As I opened the email, I saw it was a gift voucher from the same friend. He had gifted me an online course in creative writing.

It was in reference to another conversation we had had. “You take feedback from absolutely the wrong set of people.” He had said. “While I love to read your writings, I am not equipped to give you constructive feedback. You should consult people from this domain.”

The email came with a personal message from the sender, ‘Hoping this will help you in your pursuits of a better you.’

 

Thus today, after seven years, and seventy-seven pieces of Itts-Bitts, I pause to look back, to see the distance covered with some degree of satisfaction, and a certain pride. And then I humbly look forward to write more, write better and be better than myself. 

Happy Seventh Itts-Bitts. Indeed a lucky seventh. 

Wishes, Hopes and Prayers, and all that

Today is my friend’s birthday. My four-year-old BFF’s birthday. BFF, as my daughter explained to me, refers to ‘Best Friend Forever’.

So, when this cute-kid-friend of mine calls me a BFF, it surely leaves me smiling. Even for a minute, I don’t doubt the earnestness and honesty with which it is said. However, having covered a certain distance in life, if one thing I am sure of is ‘change’. I am certain of the continuous evolution our environment is in. I am cognizant of how I am adapting to this change. I am aware of the constant state of flux my life is in. And thus, ‘Forever’ seems like a term only applicable to fairy tales.

 Yet everything is not doomed or lost. Human relationships are as real today as they were centuries ago. Emotions of love, care, respect, and friendship have been a permanent companion of our race. At times they do get hidden under the dark clouds of jealousy, misery, and pain. Yet still, the sun never ceases to shine, filling us with the light of knowledge & hope.

 

Hence, today, on this special day of my young friend, I want to send something which will stay through thick and thin. Which will sail through the tide, will ride the wave, and will shine in dark. Which will stay the same when even we will change….. I want to send some wishes….

 

Like all other well-wishers,

I too wish you health, wealth and prosperity.

I too wish you happiness, smiles and joy.

I too wish you dreams coming true, for hands that hold you through.

Wishes of peace, contentment, and honesty.

Wishes of success, growth, and popularity.

I wish for all this and more, all things which can’t be told, all things that are nothing but gold.

 

But I also wish for your inner light to shine strong and bright,

when all around goes dark.

I also wish for blessings from above to protect,

when testing times are leaving a mark.

I pray today for days when I won’t be there to pray for you.

I pray for the mettle inside, when friends are far and few.

May you stand strong in the face of pain,

Stand strong even when others go in vain.

 

I wish and hope and pray all this will be true,

Not some, not few, but all through.

And I wish and hope and pray all this will be true,

Coz probably that’s all that I can do.

 

 

 

Sanjha Chulha

Love thy neighbour is an age-old proverb. I am not sure how relevant it remained in the modern world. In the past few decades, the pace of life has rapidly increased. First industrialization and then digitization changed the way we interacted with our surroundings. The advent of mobile technology brought the world into our hands, but also took us away from the physical world.

In this madness the first set of people we lost touch with were our neighbors. In last 15 years my family has moved across five cites and nine houses. Of all these places that were home at a certain point, I can recall only four neighborhood families with whom we managed to establish a connect. With our weekdays divided between work and traffic jams, and weekends dedicated to pending work and outings, leisurely time spent at home was always a rare commodity.

Arrival of COVID-19 brought life to almost a halting stop. Half the world was confined to the safety of their homes. While it was comfortable for the initial few weeks, slowly it began to dawn on all of us that there is no short-term solution to this problem. We geared up to face this challenge, brought about a change in our lifestyles, added masks and sanitizers to the list of basic amenities, and got ready to once again step out in the world.

And as soon as we opened our doors, the first set of people we met were our neighbors. It was no brainer to guess that they too were in the same boat as us. Skeptical to step out, concerned about the well-being of their families, and hesitant to go very far. Thus, we met them across the common boundaries. Sanjha Chulha is the story of such neighbors whose friendship started during the lockdown days and matured and flourished in their homes, especially the kitchens. 

 

Saloni and Arin are also neighbors.

She left a promising career to take care of her two adorable kids. Her husband Suhas is a senior manager at an IT company. Even though Saloni left her job, she couldn’t leave behind her aspirations. Saloni and Suhas had always enjoyed hosting their friends and family. She is a great cook and he is a natural conversationalist. Together they ensured their guests always felt welcomed and well taken care of. Saloni sought to take this partnership to the next level. She dreamt of owning her own café. A place where she could cook, bake, meet people, and make money too. Suhas also supported her choice. He had promised to not only support the initial investment needed but also agreed to share the responsibilities of childcare. Thus, allowing her to focus on her dreams. Owning to this, over the last few years, Saloni enrolled for various cooking courses from some of the esteemed and renowned institutions. She often treated her guests with some of these delicacies. From the venue to the menu, and from branding to budget, they would often talk about this planned venture, and probably the biggest adventure of their lives.

Arin on the other hand is a financial analyst, crunching numbers at his fingertips all day long. He too is happily married to Avni, a researcher in biotechnology. They have a toddler son, who demands much time and attention from them. For Arin, cooking is a hobby and a great stress buster. It allows him to keep his mind off from his constant work pressure. It is also a medium to bring out his creativity, quite contrary to his logical process-oriented job. Avni, on the other hand, is more of a scholarly person. Given a chance she prefers a quick fix meal and would rather spend her extra hours flipping through the pages of her books. A reserved and introvert kind of person, she becomes a little over-conscious of her inabilities or weaknesses. The kitchen is a similar territory where her nervousness often makes her clumsy. More so in the presence of enthusiasts like Arin, who usually performs his tasks with an elan.  

When the pandemic arrived, Suhas, Arin, and Avni started working from the confines of their homes. The initial few days were spent adjusting to this new routine. But soon they were all missing their social interactions. It was challenging for kids also to remain restricted inside four walls, without an opportunity to visit either schools or play areas. The initial euphoria of multi-tasking soon gave way to tiredness and boredom. Social media platforms that saw a shift from holiday pics to food pics also moved to newer topics. While a majority started scouting for new hobbies or means of entertainment, the likes of Saloni and Arin stayed focused on improving their culinary skills.

It was on one such day that Arin knocked on the door of Saloni’s house. He was trying his hands at a new recipe and didn’t have one of the key ingredients at home. Not wanting to either compromise the flavors or visit the grocery store to buy something so small, he decided to borrow from a neighboring house. As Arin entered Saloni’s house his son too came running after him. At times kids take less than a fraction of a second to become friends. Even before Arin could explain the purpose of his visit, his son had settled well with Saloni’s kids and their toys. Saloni and Suhas also welcomed them with open arms and warm smiles. And soon enough Arin was comfortably placed in their couch with a cup of tea, talking at length about his trial and error based culinary experiments.

In a few days this became almost a routine. Every time Arin attempted a new recipe, he went seeking Saloni’s advice. And each visit, though meant to be a quick question, ended up in lengthy discussions. Some of these discussions never moved away from the kitchen counter, where Saloni was busy preparing the next meal. With Suhas also helping her, the trio would continue their tête-à-tête.

Soon enough Avni also started joining them. Saloni and Suhas made her feel comfortable with their warm hospitality. Their no pretense, non-judgemental approach towards people and situations would put Avni at ease. She felt free to be herself, without becoming conscious of her short-comings.

Every now and then Saloni and Arin would cook together. At times in Saloni’s kitchen, & then in Arin’s. Sometimes they shared the burden by each of them taking up one dish. While one focused on stuff palatable with kids, the other would work with aromas of spices. On some days they pooled ingredients from each house to prepare a perfect and complete serving. On other days they met unplanned, unprepared, just sharing the left-overs or fixing quick bites. When feeling energetic, they would prepare elaborate multi-course meals. Once in a while, they would share it with other neighboring families too. A couple of times they even packed some food and took the kids out for long drives, just as sort of a picnic. Food and its preparation had become a common point of interest, bringing them together. Learning, teaching, trying, and experimenting, at times succeeding, at other failing. Their love for cooking, and their food for their loved ones, was the magic behind this teamwork. Suhas and Avni too enjoyed these get-togethers. Each supporting with either taking care of kids or cleaning the place or doing the dishes. They all worked and worked well as a team.

But the actual soul-curry was usually prepared after kitchen lights went off. Putting kids to sleep, switching off the tv, mobile, and all other noisy appliances. Four of them would then settle for a quiet meal. At times it was just a bite of dessert or maybe even a cup of tea. But it was in these quiet hours of the night that their true rendezvous would start. Rendezvous with themselves, with each other , and with life overall.

It was unintentional and quite impromptu, but each one of them started pouring out their heart’s content. It started with sharing old stories, life anecdotes, and fond memories. Over time they were sharing secrets of their heart, without hesitations or boundaries of social civilities. From their most precious dreams to their worst nightmares. From guiding principles of life to life-changing decisions, they would talk, discuss, and debate.

Saloni would often talk about her plans for the café. She had many ideas around the cuisine, decor, and ambiance. She wants it to be a place for people to enjoy good food and good conversations. However, she acknowledged she hadn’t put much thought into the commercial or marketing aspects. These were indeed in Suhas’s focus. 

When Suhas mentioned his financial concerns and funding needs, Arin helped him chalk out an elaborate investment plan. Two of them would spend hours together evaluating and thrashing out the available financial options.

On another occasion Avni confessed being nervous and jittery in the presence of others. How her inability to express herself freely often made her feel suffocated. Avni also shared how Arin’s expertise in the kitchen gave her a sense of guilt. Social and familial pressure only added fuel to this fire. She felt that by cooking he was actually fulfilling her responsibilities, making her feel incapable and inefficient.

Arin also agreed how many times he had struggled to make her share her opinion. And how many times this had caused misunderstandings between the two. Yet Avni’s confession was only perceived as a mark of her maturity and inner strength by the rest. The support and morale uplift she received from all, gave her strength and encouragement to further break open her shell.

Kids, their well-being and upbringing were another topic of common interest. Their healthy food intake, need for adequate physical activity and educational learnings were often discussed in detail. Each child differs in his aptitude and interests. They also differ in their need for attention and care. As parents, they all wanted to provide a holistic growth opportunity for their kids, while also preparing them well for the life ahead.

All in all, their social network had become restricted to their neighborhood. While their family and friends were still around virtually, the neighbors were the primary means of a real-world connect. 

Life thus moved on happily for a few months. But as they say, the actual strength of any relationship is tested during difficult times. The same happened in this case too. Avni's work required her to visit the laboratory occasionally. Tragedy struck when she was infected with the notorious virus. As per the norm, she had to stay in complete isolation for at least the next two weeks.

As was expected, Arin took a leave from work to focus completely on supporting Avni through her isolation, while simultaneously managing the house and kid. But quite contrary to general practice in case of a contagious disease, Saloni and Suhas didn’t shy away from helping them. While abiding by all norms of social distancing, they ensured they brought all necessities to Arin’s doorstep. Saloni also insisted that Arin should only focus on ensuring Avni recuperates. She prepared three meals a day for the family, especially keeping in mind Avni's fragile state. Together they all hoped this would end soon.

But destiny had its own plans. Avni though out of the isolation was left weak and in need of complete rest and healing. It's not a surprise that Arin stood beside her in this time of need, supporting her both physically as well as emotionally. The lockdown had meant that Avni and Arin’s families could not come to their support. But this gap was filled by Saloni and Suhas, who constantly stood there providing their care and support, just as the family does. For the next three months, Saloni cooked all meals for the two households. Occasionally she would prepare an elaborate spread, in an attempt to make everyone feel pampered. Suhas helped Arin in other household work. Every now and then they would sit with Avni, talking to her in an attempt to cheer her spirits.

After three months when Avni stepped out of her room for the first time, she expressed a desire to visit Saloni and Suhas. Once in their house, she humbly proclaimed, “Every meal coming from this kitchen is made with love and is a blessing for those who eat it. I pray from the bottom of my heart, may your kitchen flourish, and may it feed thousands of people.”

 

As a child, I was introduced to the concept of ‘Sanjha Chulha’ by my grandmother. It referred to a shared large clay oven in the middle of a village, where all women would gather to make Rotis (bread). The venue, just like the village water well, was a common meeting ground. A place where women of the village could talk about a variety of things, sharing their joys and sorrows, while simultaneously cooking. Sharing something as basic as the need for food, it brought their hearts closer to each other. In these pandemic times, I see many neighboring families coming together to share food and, in the process, share a part of their lives. This sharing keeps our belief in humanity and human values alive.

The Bridge on the River Choluteca

The Anecdote

Let’s start by sharing the anecdote. It is the story of a 484 mt long bridge built on the river Choluteca in Honduras, in Central America. The local authorities wanted to build a bridge that would stand all the big storms and hurricanes, a common phenomenon in those parts of the world. A contract was given to a Japanese construction company, which true to its word, built a strong bridge that can withstand extreme weather conditions. The bridge was opened for public use in 1998.

A few months later, the land was hit by hurricane Mitch. It resulted in 75 inches of rain within the short span of four days, the same as what the area normally receives over six months. River Choluteca transcended its boundaries, inflicting heavy damages on life and property. Everything around the bridge collapsed like a bunch of matchsticks amidst heavy rains and winds. However, the bridge itself stood long and strong, challenging the forces of nature.

When the hurricane left, leaving behind the rubble of devastation, it also altered the landscape around the bridge. There was no sign left of the roads on its either sides, which were earlier connecting it to other city points. The river itself had changed its course, and now it was flowing beside the bridge and not under it. Thus, the structure that was once ‘the bridge on the river Choluteca’, was now just a standalone structure over nothing. It had barren sandy land below and an open blue sky above. It started from nothing and ended in nothing. An architectural marvel rendered useless by a sudden change in its surroundings.

The Bridge & Sahil

When Sahil first came across the picture of the bridge on the river Choluteca, it had a numbing effect on him, without even knowing the story behind. The picture was gloomy and ironic, to say the least. Yet a part of him wanted to know more. To know how this problem was solved. To think of ways in which it could be corrected. His approach has always been solution-oriented. Now too the picture was calling him to prove that things can turn around even after reaching this point. Maybe because he understood what it meant to be in this position.

The recent pandemic has had a similar impact on life and business. With millions losing their lives, half the world under lockdown, confined to the safety of their houses, governments restricting movements in public places, repercussions to economy and business were inevitable. The company Sahil was employed with, was one amongst the severely affected. Within a single quarter revenue and earnings came crashing down. As a desperate measure to save the company from going bankrupt, management decided to cut down on all resources, including manpower. Much to his dismay, Sahil was also on the exit list. Eliminating a senior VP, with a hefty pay-package, was to have a significant impact on the costs.

At Sahil’s end, the situation demanded some desperate measures. With his family entirely dependent on his earnings, being unemployed was not a state he wanted to be in. While scouting for new opportunities, he soon realized his options were limited. With the entire economy going through a major downturn, the situation was quite grim across. Chances of any organization hiring an expensive resource at this time were at best bleak, at worst none. Sahil’s income was set to deplete, but his expenses were still loaded with mortgages, school fees, and household running expenses.

There were indeed some uncanny similarities between Sahil’s situation and those of the bridge. At least in the terms of the impact and suddenness of the change. When Sahil first saw that picture, his mind started drawing parallels. Yet he decided not to complain about how challenging or demotivating this predicament was. He was seeking ways to reach a new equilibrium. He only and only wanted to repurpose or reinvent the bridge and in the process his own life. A task which by no means is a cakewalk. Sahil was fully cognizant of how gradual and painful the process of transformation is.

Taking the bridge on river Choluteca as a leading example, Sahil decided to reconstruct his life. He started noting down his options and choices.

Reconnect the Dots

Reconnecting the dots between the bridge, the river, the land, and the city is the key to finding its new use. The basic needs of civilizations remain the same before and after the storm. The river still needs to be crossed, the land needs fertility and stability, and the city needs to run. And thus, quite obviously the bridge will find its purpose around fulfilling these same needs.

For Sahil also, this was an opportunity to pause and think through. He acquired an engineering degree to give himself a head-start in his career. He then grabbed the best job opportunity available, which was to fund his higher education. After completing his post-graduation in business administration from the country’s premier institute, he started pursuing a fast-paced career. The course of life from then on was decided by the growth opportunities available – be it in changing cities or employers – it was always for a better bargain than the previous one.

When this race of madness came to a halting stop, Sahil was forced to redefine his priorities. There were no lucrative opportunities up for grab. He still had to fend for his needs. After having climbed the corporate ladder a long way, even a horizontal movement would have sufficed, but the possibility seemed dismal. Thus, he had to find something which will sustain his lifestyle, can be achieved with his current capabilities and the world has a requirement for.

Invest in Expansion

Building new from what already exists. For Choluteca, it could mean extending the bridge furthermore. Knowledge and experience gained from previous construction will make the extension a comparatively faster and cheaper proposition. In some other cases, it might make sense to try and change the course of the river.  Or in some situations possibly both the bridge and river shift to meet at a center point. Of course here river and bridge are symbolic of what has changed and what needs to change.

Sahil realized that his river too was changing course and very soon there won't be much water left under his feet. He thrived in the physical world built of brick and mortar. Post pandemic, the internet web was thickening around his world. Transactions that were previously closed with a hand-shake, are now getting closed at the click of a button. For Sahil, this meant a complete re-orientation of his working style and work practices.

With current engagement going, he had the option of investing this time in strengthening his candidature for the next available opportunity. He could either upskill or dabble with something new. He could also expand the geographical and segment boundaries of his search, something he resisted in the past. He realized that presently job opportunities won’t come his way. He needs to move in their direction.

Think Out of the Box

Sometimes the solution is outside the problem. It’s possible that the costs of making the bridge a part of the river’s ecosystem are too high. Then thinking of a completely new use of the bridge might give better results. For example, the bridge and its surroundings can be developed into a tourist spot. Developing the fertile river-bed land into a green-zone or improving carbon footprints of the area are just some of the benefits associated with it. It can also be an educational monument, inspiring the students of engineering and philosophy alike.

If he decides to move out of the box, options surely expand for Sahil. His wife had turned a home-baker post her maternity career break. She made excellent theme-cakes but could not expand her passion or her label beyond her kitchen. If Sahil were to support her, setting up their own café or baking line was a lucrative option. Leveraging his experience in product and vendor management, he could help her set-up a successful commercial venture.

Sahil could also, explore the possibilities of teaching grad students. Even in the office, he had always enjoyed training employees, especially on leadership skills. He could now share the same knowledge and experience with students preparing for their corporate careers. In simple words, if one door closed, Sahil could open multiple windows to reach the world which was once his.

The Conclusion

In essence, the bridge on the river Choluteca represents a person who stands strong in face of a storm, to emerge unscathed. However, the world around him ceases to exist as he knows it, forcing him to find new meanings, a new purpose for his life. What distinguishes it from a normal process of ‘reinvention’ is the timing of the change. Here change is rapid and rampant, often devastating too. The reinvention, on the other hand, is a gradual and painful process of discovery and adaptation.  

For Sahil too, making a choice itself is not easy. His life prior to the job loss was secure, well established, and fulfilling. Now life had changed its course and he now needed to carve out a new space for himself.

The conclusion is simple to state but much difficult to implement. It is always easy to build something from the start. When we try to recreate an existing structure, some breakages, and some wastages are both necessary and unavoidable. In situations like these, reinventing the wheel, while both gradual and painful, is imperative. What was current before the storm becomes redundant after it. Reinvention is the only possibility to avoid stagnation and degeneration.

Respect & Remy

 “Respect is the only thing I give in any relationship.” Remy would often say this with a straight face. And his listener is left confused, dangling between belief and mistrust. Respect is understandable, but what about other emotions? One can still understand if you club feelings like love and care under the same basket as respect. What about negative reactions like hurt or anger?

It’s always very difficult to see what lies behind that poker face. One could only guess that his mind is busy processing every piece of information he could lay his hands on. From reading facial expressions to noticing voice modulations, from the content of the speech to the body language of the speaker, everything is under Remy’s intense scrutiny. His eyes don’t show any hint of the thoughts running in his mind. His face would remain plain like a blank screen.

Remy wasn’t his original name. It was given to him by his foreign colleagues, who found his long Indian name more of a tongue twister. People who heard it thought it was inspired by a bottle of Remy Martin. But it wasn’t. It was inspired by the traits of an ‘oarsman’, the person who works hard to navigate his boat in rough waters.

Coming back to his favorite statement. Respect is a virtue that distinguished him from others. A virtue that he taught many others, including me. He believed that demonstrating emotions like loving, caring, and sharing may result in ambiguity and misunderstanding. But the likelihood of misinterpreting respect is bleak.  He could quote multiple examples to validate his belief.

Like many others of his gender, remembering birthdays and anniversaries has always been a challenge for Remy. Roses and candle-lit dinners are not his strengths. Nor are expensive and surprise gifts. And like many others, he has been reprimanded by the fairer sex for this folly on umpteen occasions. Yet, time and again he proved his commitment by undertaking long and uncomfortable journeys to be with his loved ones when they needed him the most. On one such occasion, he traveled all night in a goods truck. On another, he risked his security by entering a city under partial curfew. 

He does not limit respect to big feats. The person who is often blamed for being lost and disinterested during casual conversations is also the one who notices the most. He is the best companion for a friend seeking a shoulder to cry on. The one who is blamed for being careless and forgetful for small mundane tasks is also the one who cares the most. From serving food in bed for ailing family members to serving water and coffee at the desk for under-pressure colleagues, he would silently care for his nears and dears. And cares not occasionally, but daily.

Silence is misinterpreted most of the time. This has been true in his case as well. He never offers any suggestion, unless specifically asked for. In a world where everyone offers free advice, his silence is often tainted as a lack of concern on his part. Some others also assume it to be stemming from arrogance. Yet those who know him well, also know that a keen observer like him is silent only because he doesn’t want to share unsolicited suggestions. And when asked, he never hesitates from sharing a fair and logical perspective of the situation.

No, it would be incorrect to assume that Remy is incapable of feeling negative emotions. He is not a saint. He doesn’t even aspire to be one. He just knows how to express his emotions in a controlled and measured way. He goes silent to avoid the heat of the moment, simmers down his reactions, and then opens at a later point of time. He searches for the right words and the right moment to express his thoughts. Some people feel that he tries to be politically correct at all times. But in his view, he only avoids saying or doing things which he may regret later. A lesson learned the hard way by someone who isn’t blessed with a gift of gab. There were many instances where he was misunderstood or ended up hurting someone by saying something he didn’t intend to. And so he started treading every step with caution, uttering every word with care.

While all this was true and testimony to Remy’s good-natured being. For me, the best testimony of Remy’s ability to show respect was his acceptance of people as they are. He accepted people with their shortcomings, their mistakes as much as with their strengths. I often saw him unperturbed in the face of tantrums, mood swings, and irrational behavior people showed towards him on certain occasions. Some apologized later for their misconduct, few others didn’t. All one would see was the same silent blank face. After such incidents also nothing changed for Remy. His loyalty and commitment towards the relationship – be is personal or professional – remained unaltered.  

Learning the traits of 'respect' has been a journey for him. An inspiring journey, which probably doesn't make him a hero. Yet it certainly makes him a better human being, a trusted friend, and a loved family man. Someone we all can aspire to be. 

Every relation goes through the test of time. It rides on waves of happiness and sorrow, togetherness, and remoteness. What helps it tide over is the solid base of respect. And thus the name Remy (Oarsman) becomes an apt fit for a person who steers through the rough waters of emotions, to stay stable with respect. 

 

In Conversations

Going to book launches, readings and seminars had become routine for Sowmya. During her initial days of internship with a publishing house, she would look forward to meeting renowned writers, journalists and critics. She had hoped that meeting these people will give a head start to her career as an editor and to her aspiration as a budding writer. But after attending the initial few parties and gatherings, the sparkling stars in her eyes began to fade away. She soon realized that it took more than just social connections to either establish a credibility or to get some attention. Being the silent pensive sorts, striking a conversation was always a challenge for her, yet she tried and tried in all earnestness. Unfortunately, albeit not surprisingly, all her attempts at making someone read her manuscripts had failed miserably. Thus, over time, she had started confining herself to silent corners of these rooms, from where she could get a good view of the event and an easy access to food and beverages.

On this particular day too, she sat perched up on a highchair, right next to the drinks counter. Her eyes moving across the length and breadth of the room, little absentmindedly, seeing everything, but noticing almost nothing. In one corner of the room, a prominent writer sat, whose book was being launched today, hurriedly signing off copies for enthusiastic buyers. All across the room people stood in small groups of three or four. From literary debates to intellectual stimulation, the room was reverberating with their ideas and opinions.

Sitting alone in her quiet corner, Sowmya was inhaling the voices and thoughts. For initial moments she didn’t notice but her eyes rested on a smiling face. Engrossed in her own thoughts, she didn’t realize when the smile captivated her attention. It was only when the face turned towards her with a radiating smile and a nod that she regained consciousness. She felt embarrassed about staring at a stranger, and quickly turned her attention to the person behind the counter, requesting a refill.

When she again turned around, the face had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Not seeing it, Sowmya was half relieved, and half disappointed. She was almost lost in her thoughts again, when a sudden burst of laughter from a group close-by caught her attention. And there it was again, the same face and the same smile. Their eyes met yet again, and this time Sowmya turned towards her phone to escape the gaze.

Unfortunately for Sowmya, or fortunately as she thought later, looking away didn’t help her for long. Within the next couple of minutes, she found him right next to her, with an extended hand, “Hi, my name is Nishant. I saw you sitting here alone, so thought of offering my companionship for some time.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry, I wont charge you for it.” He was still smiling, and now Sowmya couldn’t prevent herself from reciprocating the gesture. As is always, next few minutes were spent in exchanging brief curriculum vitae, discovering how both had a passion for writing, and how they get inspired by their surroundings, situations and most importantly people. People, with their reactions, their perspectives, their expectations and aspirations, and all these weaving into the fabric of their life.

By this time the event was moving towards a closure. Only a last few buyers were left, waiting for their signed copies. Many from the audience had exited the building. The remaining were huddled closer to the exist gates, dragging their feet much slower than they were dragging their conversations. Staff from the venue had started wrapping up the décor and other furniture. Soumya and Nishant also picked up their belongings and started walking towards the nearest coffee shop. By now both had realized that they still had lot to talk about. As they settled in the coffee shop, Nishant picked up the leftover pieces of conversation.

“Yes, I am a conversationalist. And it is what I do for a living. Its my passion and profession too.” A conversationalist? What did it mean? And how can anyone be a professional conversationalist? Why would someone pay for just a conversation? How many people can you talk to? And on how many varied topics? And writing? Is that not your profession? Questions were obvious and were in plenty. So Nishant continued.

 

“While reading and writing have always been my hobbies, what I really enjoyed doing was getting into a variety of conversations. Conversations that fed me with ideas, provoked my thinking and left me with multitude of themes to mull over. During student days I had many friends, each with a different area of interest and a different ambition in life. I used to connect with them all, individually and regularly, feeding from their minds and thoughts, nourishing and enriching my own thoughts in the process.

It was during this same time that I started reading about human psychology. Unraveling the mysteries of why and how people react, when they do. Though it was not part of my core curriculum, I spent vast number of hours, reading the works of great philosophers, sociologists and psychologists. At that time, I was regularly writing for school and college magazines, and a few independent publications.

My writings were primarily derived from the lives and stories of my friends and also reflected my readings. Without sounding boastful I can say, the initial writings were well received within my small world. My peers and seniors appreciated my grasp and understanding of human emotions. This encouragement boosted my morale. After completing my basic education, I applied for an advance course in psychology and was even selected. Thus, started my actual rendezvous with society and its emotional quotients.   

Even before I earned my degree I knew very well that neither clinical nor experimental psychology were my forte. The writer in me was too wild and too free to get regimented with the asks of a predefined profession. I could easily express my observations, capture their essence and reflect them vividly through the characters of my stories. However, the same observations seemed lackluster and uninteresting if described through an experiment, backed by scientific methodology and statistical derivations. I don’t intend any dis-respect towards science and its approach to live. It just wasn’t my cup of tea.

To make a living I started practicing clinical psychology, but soon found my thoughts and my ability to help my patients getting restricted when attempted within those four walls. Slowly I started meeting people in coffee shops, malls and sometimes even parks. Surprisingly, it helped both parties. I found people were more willing to talk and were more expressive in open environments. It was like meeting and talking to a friend, but without the fear of leaving a negative impression. In many cases people would only describe their problems factually when they met me in the clinic, but literally poured their hearts out when meeting in an informal setup.

Most people would come to me through referrals. While no one wants to admit that they have met a psychologist, it was easy to refer a ‘friend’ who can talk. Around the same time some of my writings – both articles and narratives were published in different magazines. Reading them too a few contacted me. Combining the two experiences, I started positioning myself as a ‘Conversationalist’.

“So essentially you are a psychologist?” asked Sowmya after a brief pause. “And a writer too!”

“No. I am not.” Nishant continued. “By training I am also a certified life-coach. But as a person and as a professional, I am just a conversationalist.

You know, over the years I have figured out that people don’t need advice. They don’t even need solutions to their problems. They just need a sound-board. You give them an opportunity to get their emotions out of their bottlenecks, and most find their way forward.

Honestly, now I have stopped advising people. I may share my point of view regarding their situations. But that is more for reflective listening or thinking aloud, all as part of a good healthy conversation. I don’t give them any kind of advice, neither medically nor philosophically. And you might be surprised, it works absolutely fine for majority of them.

People meet me to have good conversations. To talk about things they cant share with others. For example, recently I met a youngster who wanted to start a new venture. Coming from a traditional business community, his family wanted him to stay within family business only. He met me a couple of times, only to gather the strength to embark on this journey. I had neither an understanding of the industry, nor do I have any experience with start-ups. All he was looking for a person with whom he could share what he couldn’t share with his family.

There are many such examples, domestic tussles, work-life balance, career aspirations etc. Such topics are not life threatening, nor need a medical intervention if addressed in time. But many don’t find friends or family members who listen without emotions, without prejudices, without being judgmental and without donning an advisory hat, telling them what to do and what not to. It is here that I come into picture, by just listening to what they have in their mind or heart. I am just a resonance plate, which helps them define their thinking patterns.

Nishant could see the effect his words had on Sowmya. And thus, he started wrapping up.

“Yes of course, I charge a nominal fee for it, to be able to pay my bills. Off-late I also get invited to speak in workshops and seminars, and even manage to earn some royalties from my publishers. But at core, I am just a conversationalist, who enjoys his work. Like many others I too have converted my passions into my professions – I enjoy my conversations and also write about them.”

Not surprisingly, Sowmya saved Nishant's contact details as they began to leave the coffee shop. She always knew that she didn't have the gift of gab. But what she previously considered as idle conversations, were now starting to have a new meaning. 

 

 

 

 

When Sensibilities Fail, Try Madness for a Change

In the famous Bollywood movie ‘Jab We Met’, the effervescent Geet advises lonely and depressed Aditya to try ‘stupidity’ and ‘madness’. From burning ex-girl-friend’s photograph to jumping into cold river water, each act performed against Aditya’s sense of logic and reasoning, helps him break his shackles.

In a more real world, I do remember a few instances when a silly act of irrationality, saved the day for me. Then be it eating a triple scoop sundae ice-cream on a wet winter evening or taking a lonely walk amidst heavy thunderstorm, such contradictions to normal behaviour have magically healed my ailing heart.

At times these unplanned unexplainable actions can even turn our life’s direction. I remember the time when loneliness was my constant companion. Almost all of my friends and peers were either engaged or committed. I too was under pressure from my family to find a partner and settle for good. However, being a reserved and reticent personality wasn’t of much use for me in this effort. Then one day I opened up a conversation with a complete stranger. How and why that conversation lasted for six hours and how it turned into a life-time of togetherness, is something I still find difficult to explain.

I agree, there is risk involved in such cases. Not every risk can be calculated or accounted for. And there is an inherent dichotomy between intelligence and foolishness. We need to go against one, to adopt the other. Further, here intent is not to justify the extreme cases of irrationality – which can be detrimental to safety of life and property. The objective is to allow ourselves small windows of fresh air, when feeling suffocated. It could be harmless phone calls to friends in the middle of the night to cry your heart out or getting tipsy in a bar to immerse your worries.

A similar incident of seemingly immature behaviour happened with my friend, Tanuja. After being married for 14 years and with two kids between them, their married life if not down the dumps, was at best platonic.

Tanuja is a true romantic at heart. She still firmly believes in roses, surprise gifts and dinner dates. Her world revolves around Ajay, her significant half, his choices and his needs. When planning a family outing, she dresses up in a way he liked. When preparing a meal she considers his preferences. Not waiting for his initiatives, she often messages him sweet-nothings. She looks for ways to surprise him, pamper him & make him smile. She does all this and more, without expecting even a slight gesture of acknowledgment. 

Quite contrary to her, Ajay, has adopted a more sombre outlook towards life. After a tiring day at work, he prefers spending some peaceful time around family and television. He is not averse to occasional display of affection. However, it’s the broader principles of life – like respect, growth and personal space – that are more conducive to his thought process.

I guess over the years, both had learnt to adopt and adapt with each other. However there came a twist in the tale, when Tanuja went for an old-student reunion of her Alma Mater. As is the case during such events, spirits were on a high, nostalgia prevailing, buddies meeting after ages, walking down memory lanes….and to continue the euphoria someone came up with an idea of planning a vacation together. After the initial drop-outs, only five remained standing. Three men and two women, one of them being Tanuja.

However, this is not the twist in the tale. Fully confident on Ajay’s views on her independence and choices, she had agreed to participate, without even checking with him. All was confirmed, decided upon and finalised. On reaching home, Tanuja excitedly shared her plan with Ajay, who as expected fully supported her decision. Seeing his reaction, Tanuja became even more excited, and started narrating the remaining details. In her excitement, she completely missed seeing the first signs of jealousy which came on Ajay’s face when he heard the name – Shantanu.

Shantanu, Tanuja’s old class-mate, had specially flown down for the re-union. A successful entrepreneur, a rich and famous personality, Shantanu settled in foreign lands almost two decades ago. The trip was his idea and he was also getting all the arrangements done. From hotel reservations to travel itinerary, he had graciously taken up all responsibilities. And last but not the least, and the reason for Ajay’s sudden discomfort – Shantanu was also Tanuja’s old flame. The two had been pretty thick during school times, but never took the relationship to the next level. They stayed in touch for some time after school too, but once Shantanu moved his base to a foreign country, they lost touch. Both got busy with their careers and family responsibilities, and never really made any attempt to get in touch, until…..Until they met again at the school reunion.

Ajay on the other hand has known these details all along. Tanuja has never hidden anything from him, and nor was she trying to hide something now. As the trip planning progressed, she updated Ajay with all details and all no-nothings. As always, she was seeking his opinion and advice on all things possible – from clothes to accessories, from documentation to books and music for the journey.

However, what they both failed to notice was jealousy and mistrust brewing in Ajay’s heart. Though he could not find any evidence to support his fear, it was lingering with him day and night. Needless to say making him short-tempered and irritable. Initially Tanuja tried to ignore these tantrums under the garb of work-pressure. However, when Ajay’s behaviour did not show any signs of improvement nor any apparent causation, it had a reverse effect on her. Tanuja convinced herself that she must join the trip, as a much-needed break from Ajay and his dictatorship. And so, they spent the next ten days amidst a tense silence.

After ten days, as scheduled Tanuja packed her bags and left for the airport. But not without a major fight between Ajay and her, each accusing the other of irrationality and emotional stupidity. As the flight took off, she closed her eyes, both as an attempt to prevent tears from rolling down and to push back the memories of the day. All she had wanted was a short break away from her daily routines and responsibilities. Now that too seemed like a distant dream.

Once alone in her room, Tanuja sat next to the window. Quietly brooding over the events in last few days. She had very little idea about what may have transpired. Her thoughts were oscillating between calling up Ajay and clearing the air or forgetting about it completely for next couple of days. For a passing minute she even contemplated cancelling the trip and heading back home. Finally, she decided, she will send him a message and will park the discussion till the time they can talk about it peacefully. The only catch, she didn’t know how long that ‘time’ will be considering Ajay’s busy schedules.

A sudden knock on the door, broke her chain of thoughts. Thinking it might be Shantanu, looking for something, she opened the door. It turned out to be Ajay. In a true movie-hero style, he had applied for an unplanned unscheduled vacation, to spend some time with Tanuja.

What years of togetherness, love and respect could not achieve, became reality with as negative an emotion as Jealousy!!! When sensibilities failed, madness prevailed!!!

In Pursuit of Dummy Amie

Amie – her name means the ‘friend’ – and indeed she was my true friend. She was my inspiration. My role model.

Her round big eyes saw everything with a look of astonishment. Her long wavy hair were always neatly tied in a plait. When sad, she would pull a long face, making it further oblong. Even with a broad forehead, straight nose and thin lips she had very plain features. Slim body, tall and lanky legs only added to her homeliness. Combined with her simple dressing and unpretentious conduct, she had nothing remarkable about her.

She would wait for me to finish my work so that she could catch my attention. Yet, whenever I called her, she would hide behind some door or some curtain. Peeping at regular intervals, trying to catch my eye. Even with very few friends, she was a darling for all. Everyone tried talking to her, but she rarely responded. She only stared at them with her big round eyes and smiling face. Timid, sweet and shy – that was my Amie.

She would laugh hysterically on silliest of things. When no one noticed, she pranced around, dancing to her heart's content. She could sing all day long. She could talk to herself in the mirror. At times I would pretend to be busy with my work, while enjoying her antics from the corner of my eyes. And oblivious to my gaze, she would stay busy in her dream world. A world full of smiles, colors, love and all things beautiful.

She loved lying in grass, she played with trees, she adored pretty flowers. Most of the times she would play alone. At times she would sit alone for hours busy with her toys or books or just herself. Anything that she could lay her hands on. Anything that would catch her fancy or fuel her imagination. 

Amie always listened more and spoke less. One would mainly hear her voice when she was either singing or was lost in her own world, busy with her pretend plays. She never fought with her friends or cousins or classmates. She never fought with anyone, as she would always end up crying, with words choking her throat. She obeyed her elders and followed their advice. 

She never asked for anything. No birthday parties, no fancy gifts and no unreasonable demands. She was content with whatever she had, even if it was much less than her peers. I could never fully understand if she didn't know how to make a choice or she was genuinely accepting whatever came her way. From the food served, to clothes bought to gifts received, from luxuries to simplicities, I never heard her complain. She was neither brilliant nor street-smart. More ordinary than even run-of-the-mill.

I particularly don’t remember how, why or since when, but everyone called her Dummy Amie. And she never objected. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew what it really meant. Yet she accepted it as her real name, her true identity. At times I felt she justified the name more than the name justified her. She would miss simple and obvious, would ignore rationality and would perplex in face of complexity and conflict. Yet there were times when she spelled out composite life-theories as easily as two and two make four.

Why I loved my Amie, is something I can never explain. I found her smile infectious. I found her innocence irresistible. I found her simplicity inspirational. My friend, philosopher and guide; my little Amie.

Then it happened as it always happens in life. I had to move on. I changed jobs, got married, moved cities and became entangled with the various roles and responsibilities I took upon myself. My quest of new horizons took me far away from my homeland, away from the place where Amie was. 

Wherever I went, I carried her memory in my heart. Whenever I searched, I could find no one like her. Though I could never forget her, I never really went back to meet her.

Even today a part of me longs to see her again. I continue to search crowded streets, busy roads and social gatherings, hoping to again see that familiar face. I search for that innocence. I continue to live with a hope that I may see those big round eyes again, smiling at me. I hope I will be welcomed again without any questions, without expectations. I continue to search for that simplicity. I continue to search for ordinary. I continue to search for Amie. My Amie.

The Blind Date

Kumar was a simple, well-educated, well-qualified, well-earning Tam Bram bachelor. He was heading the finance department of a billion-dollar firm. His life was as clean and well documented as his balance sheets. It’s been almost a decade since his mom, or Amma as he would call her, has been searching for the right girl for him to marry. Elder among two brothers – Kumar and Arvind – he was undoubtedly Amma’s favourite. And this was the complete description of his existence in this world.

Amma calls him as ‘the most eligible bachelor around’. She was very particular about the kind of girl he should marry. Amma has a list of criteria that any girl must fulfill to qualify for the match. First and foremost, she must be from a Tamilian Brahmin family. The horoscopes should complement perfectly too. Education is equally important, with anything less than a post-graduate degree being totally unacceptable. Amma always meets the parents first. She firmly believes that parents play a key role in instilling a strong value-system in their children. Next she meets the girl and insists on talking to her one-on-one. As the last step Kumar is supposed to meet the girl and her family. This last round is not really a qualifying round but more of a formality. Everyone knows that Kumar will marry the girl Amma introduces him to. However, in all these years not even a single girl has reached this last stage. And thus, Kumar continues to be ‘the most eligible bachelor around’.

When Kumar grabbed an excellent job opportunity to work in another city, Amma supported his decision. His growth and well-being were of prime importance to her. A few relatives did try to scare her. Once away from her strict eyes, Kumar may find a girl of his choice. There were plenty of attractions available out there for a young unmarried boy. But Amma had full faith in her upbringing. It has now been many years since Kumar is staying alone, away from his family. But he has never given Amma a chance to complain.

Coming to present times, it was a lazy Sunday morning. After completing his morning exercises and two matches of badminton, Kumar prepared his breakfast. And sharp at 10:50am he opened his laptop and got ready for his conference call. Kumar’s boss was travelling for work and could only manage some free time on Sunday morning for a project update. Today they were supposed to connect with their company’s PR agency. The agency had requested for an increase in budget, a proposal Kumar was determined to oppose.

The conference call started. The PR agency was represented by a young and energetic Bengali girl. Everyone, including Kumar’s boss, addressed her as Ms Bose. She presented a strong case for the budget increase. Keeping aside his pre-decided conclusions and biases, even Kumar was highly impressed by her presentation. Her big bespectacled kohled eyes established a contact with her audience even through the virtual medium. She wasn’t beautiful in the true sense of the word. Yet there was a charisma which forced people to take notice of her. Her soft but authoritarian voice commanded attention of her listeners. She spoke confidently, stressing on key points, drawing logical conclusions. She clearly demonstrated a strong knowledge of her own domain and her client’s business requirements. All in all, if the presentation and the presenter left Kumar mesmerised, he surely didn’t show it on his face.

However, in his mind he acknowledged that he was up against a strong competition. If Ms Bose was such a strong challenger from the other side of the screen, she would have been a force to reckon with in person. For once Kumar heaved a sigh of relief that this meeting was scheduled over video conferencing.

Next it was Kumar’s turn to speak. He asked Ms Bose straight and very specific questions, leaving little room for ambiguity. He made logical and factual arguments. His demeanour was calm, but his approach was aggressive. Overall, he was a befitting reply to Ms Bose, and built a case which was almost impossible to dismiss.

The call ended on slightly satisfying and somewhat disappointing note. Management agreed to the proposal of increasing project budget, though much less than the requested amount. A win-win and a loss-loss kind of situation, depending on how we see it. In their hearts both Kumar and Ms Bose blamed each other for it.

Just when Kumar was wrapping up his lunch, Arvind called. Just to give a brief background, Arvind was probably more eager than even Amma, to get Kumar married off. He knew it quite well that Amma will never allow him to marry, until Kumar is well-settled in his life. So, he decided to make his contribution towards finding the ‘ideal match’. And to suit his personal motives, he has been trying to get Kumar hooked-on through a love marriage route. He has even found a unique way of doing it. For every occasion, for every festival, for every bet he wins…..he only asks for one thing….Kumar should go on a blind date. A date with someone he has never met before. He had even coined a code word for it – Parisu – the gift. That also ensured that even if Amma heard about it, she wouldn’t know the true meaning of it. Only Kumar and Arvind knew that the only gift was – a blind date, with a girl Arvind would introduce him to.

And today was one such day. When Kumar had to deliver yet another parisu to Arvind. If one must speak honestly, then Kumar had also started enjoying this ritual. None of his meetings would last more than 15-20 min. In majority cases, Kumar found it difficult to even sustain a conversation. No, not because of lack of confidence or nervousness. But he would find most conversations below his level of interest. Arvind even tried searching for seemingly studious and high on intellect ‘dates’. But Kumar would brush them aside as lackluster. 

Kumar still felt disappointed from the conference call earlier in the day. To top it, today’s date seemed least of all interesting, as it was virtual. Due to a last-minute change in plan, the girl chosen for today’s ‘parisu’ couldn’t meet outside. Not willing to let go of the opportunity, Arvind had arranged for an online meeting. And he had called Kumar to give him the dial-in details. “Online date!! Online blind date!!” Kumar was amused more than usual. He didn’t expect this one to last more than first five minutes.

Kumar dialled-in at the scheduled time. Nandini, his ‘blind date’ for today, was already there. As soon as Kumar was connected, in stead of welcoming him with a ‘hello’, she started with “Hey, I am really sorry.” Without waiting for any reaction from Kumar, Nandini continued, “First I had to schedule this as an online meeting since I couldn’t step out of home today. And now my broadband is not working, hence I had to dial-in using my phone, which means I can’t use the video-calling. I had asked Arvind if we could cancel or postpone this to another date, but he said you are already blocked for next couple of weeks.” Kumar couldn’t control his smile on this statement. Meanwhile Nandini continued, “My apologies again, this is probably much worse than what you may have expected. And I will surely not blame you, if you want to end this here itself. I will go back to my book and you can spend your time on something you enjoy.” The ball was now in Kumar’s court. All this while he was silently sitting in front of a blank screen of his laptop, slightly amused with the different turns this day was taking. But now it was his turn to unmute himself and speak for the first time. In his mind he was happy at this opportunity of ending the conversation there itself. Less than first five minutes, exactly as he had expected. But in stead of ending it, he found himself asking, “Which book are you reading?”

Really?? Kumar regretted as soon as he spoke those words. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. Maybe he didn’t want to sound rude, he consoled himself. Must be some romantic tragedy, he thought. I will quickly wrap this up, he was still trying to convince himself. “It’s a book by Robert Green….” It was Nandini’s turn to speak. But by now Kumar had lost the battle with himself. He had read those books, had enjoyed them thoroughly, could read them again and couldn’t stop himself from continuing the discussion. For next hour or so Kumar sat glued to his laptop, still staring at the blank screen, captured by the voice coming through his ear-plugs.  

Nandini was witty and smart, innocent and sensible, shy and out-spoken, and all at the same time. Her free and hearty laugh was almost infectious for Kumar. She was open and meditative about sensitive topics, passionate about art and had an intelligent sense of humour. From no-nothings to political debates, from their hobbies to ambitious dreams, they covered a vast variety of topics. On each topic Kumar would try and test Nandini’s depth of knowledge and maturity of thought. Oblivious to his attempts, Nandini would speak freely, without making an attempt to create a positive impression and not in a bit realising that she was leaving him awestruck.

They had been happily chatting away for more than an hour when Nandini suddenly exclaimed, “oh wow, power has been restored. I can switch on the modem and my laptop. Give me a min please.” With this, she dropped off the call. However, Kumar stayed. Waiting eagerly to see her. To see the smile that was already brightening the day for him. And soon Nandini dialled back in.

When she started the video, Kumar froze in his chair. Two big black kohled eyes were staring at him from behind the spectacles. The long black wavy hair were now tied loosely and were falling on her shoulders. Nandini Bose was equally stunned to see Kumar again on her laptop screen, second time in a single day. She took a minute to steady herself from this shock and then burst out laughing at this funny co-incidence. As for Kumar, he was only smiling. And Nandini’s laughter was filling the space around him.

That was the first day when Kumar went to bed smiling. Next morning as he opened his eyes, the smile returned on his face. He had no clue what turn life would take after this. He only knew that henceforth his screen will not be blank and his dates won’t be blind.

**All characters in this story are imaginary. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is coincidental.**

Life Re-answered

Recently I came across an interesting anecdote. Sharing here for your pensive consumption.

Once a teacher decided to give a surprise test to his class. As his students settled for the day’s lecture, he started handing out their question-papers. After a few quick glances students pointed out that they had already written this test a few months back. The teacher smiled and replied, “Yes, I am aware. But what you don’t know is that your answers would have changed.” 

And this question itself was worth answering - if ever life repeats its questions, do we change the answers?

Very often I hear people asking – what if life gives you another chance? A second chance to either turn the clock backwards or to revisit the old lanes. Another chance to do something differently, something better, more right.

I have never ever managed to find even a single episode of my life, which I would change, if given a choice. Even the darkest days, even the biggest mistakes, even the unplanned unexpected turn of events, I never wish for them to be otherwise. This is not my mature outlook towards life. This is just a simple acceptance of things the way they were and the way they are.

I have not known life in any other way. Even if I try imagining the chain of events any differently, I fail miserably. Every dark cloud of life has had a silver lining. I just needed time to see it. Every time I survived a bumpy stretch of the journey, I picked up some things to take along. Some baggage of the past is still there with me. Some valuables were lost mid-way. Yet, I can’t complain. Whichever turns it takes, life will remain a mixed bag of events, some happy some sad. Its easier to accept and live with the ones I have known. Than struggling with the thoughts of the unknown.

However, the problem at hand is slightly different. If life were to ask me some of these questions now again, if I get to choose between the same or similar options again, if I happen to revisit the same crossroad again, will my answer, my choice be the same? May be or may not be. Its not about correcting the past mistakes. Its not about guilt pangs or lessons learnt the hard way. It is about those situations where we re-define our choices, without being apologetic about a previous decision. 

It was quite interesting to ponder over some of these questions and some of these choices. Specially those where my answers have indeed changed.

My most recent experience of making a new choice came when career presented yet another opportunity. As in previous cases, this break came with a promise of better growth and heftier pay package. Also, as it happened previously, these gains were available at the cost of geographical relocation. Having worked in six different cities and four different organizations over a span of a decade and a half, I have always endorsed a change. Along with the benefits of growth and prosperity, it brought along diverse work environments, varied organisational and social cultures, transgenerational co-workers, new skills and a plethora of business problems to solve for. All in all, a complete package for my wholistic development.

While that choice was right at that point in time, the need of the hour has changed. Today stability is a bigger priority than growth. Regular and regimented routines appeal more to my sensibilities than spurts of unplanned unexpected excitement. Today time spent with family and friends leaves me more satiated, than the over-hyped ‘me’ time. A plateauing out career graph doesn’t scare me anymore, but the thought of my personal life going on a whirlwind ride does send shivers across my being.

The other aspect where my answers and approach to life has changed, is with respect to my standing in my interpersonal relations. I no longer hesitate in accepting my mistakes, acknowledging my short-comings and laughing out loud on my blunders. I have always been very understanding and accommodating towards the needs and feelings of my near and dear ones. Now I am equally vocal and demanding about my own choices and wishes. Always endowed with an independent mind, I abstained from voicing it out unless needed. My value-based up-bringing had instilled in me some discipline around communication too. I would speak when spoken to, refrained from giving unsolicited advice, gave people ample space to express their views. A patient listener, I have learnt and gained a lot from people around me. From following their words of wisdom, from sharing their experiences and learning from their mistakes. While my silence helped me navigate many a delicate situation peacefully, now my voice is needed to address the challenges. While my listening skills helped me establish many close ties, my debating skills will help in ironing out the creases.  

Both these decisions have had a life-changing impact on me. While superficially they were related to one single objective, in reality they touched every aspect of my existence. From my personal and professional standing, my writings, my learnings, my interactions with family, friends and acquaintances, all had at least one thread connected with each of these decisions. 

Last but not the least, if ever life brings me to a point where I have the choice available…..I will learn to dance. That is one question where I have known the answer all along. Now only waiting for the question to pop-up.

The Letter

“Let me start by saying Thank You for making me look for you as friend.”

I smiled reading these lines. And couldn’t help but wonder if I really played any role here.

I recently received a letter from someone who had been reading my blogs, now consistently for some time. We briefly interacted over chats and calls, intermittently over a 3-year period. I was never a frequent writer, and neither was he a prompt reader. But somehow, we would catch up somewhere in between. Primarily exchanging notes over the random thoughts shared in those writings. Sometimes we agreed, at times we debated, and some days we amicably ended the conversation each respecting other’s opinion.  

It all started with some casual remarks and then one day a conversation struck. I always despised self-praise. And for one of my write-ups he commented, ‘this is surely a good attempt at blowing your own trumpet.’ Needless to say, I wasn’t going to take this silently, and strongly voiced my objection. It did put him on a defensive, and he replied back, ‘Its okay to play your own trumpet, it plays loud and clear.’ To which my response was, ‘Loud is noise. Trumpets sound more musical when someone else plays it for you.’ And rest as they say is history.

Our conversations, irrespective of the medium, would usually last more than an hour. We would talk about the recent piece of writing, the triggering thought, a few hidden anecdotes and of course the key underlying message. During these discussions, I would do most of the talking. He would only interject occasionally, with a question or comment, often starting the sentence with ‘my friend’. Where I would take a few paragraphs to elaborate on some point, he would simply summarize it in a single phrase or sentence. A sentence starting with ‘my friend’.

If I can honestly admit, he did inspire a few stories or write-ups. His questions prompted me to dig into old albums, go through old scribbling and take walks in the memory lanes. And more often than not a new idea, a new thought and a new story would start taking shape. They say artists – of any art form – thrive on audience feedback. It was no different with me. He was generous and honest in his compliments and also in his criticism. Over time I started referring to him as my sounding board, recipient of my thinking-out-loud ideas. Someone who would patiently hear my convoluted thoughts, would not react to my occasional absurd comments and would ignore the aberrations in my views or opinions. And whenever he inspired a new piece of writing, I would tease him as my story-board.

Our association, though sporadic had a lasting impact on me. At times I felt as though he played the role of a catalyst in my personal evolution. I cant deny I may have had some influence on him too. But it was challenging for me to elaborate on his part of the story. I was the writer and he was the reader. While he had all access to my expressions, for me he was a blank screen.

And today I have received a letter from him. An invitation letter to visit his home for his son’s naming ceremony. And this visit would mark formalization of a friendship so special.