Friday, January 28, 2011

Teach Failure.

Life was never meant to be easy, you know? So why do you complain?

This is a vortex. A vortex of I-me-&-myself. And being force fed by all - and all is not just momdad, it's friends and colleagues and significant others - that one is something special, has made one's skin thin, has made one defensive and resistant to criticism.

I am right. I always have been. I am good. I have friends. I have people who like me. I stand apart. I am smart. Fucken smart. Heavens have mercy, I am money-ed!

So how can I be wrong?

See the conundrum? We are the fairly successful, we are the ones that have got better and better every day. We are the uber-snobs, bigger than the garden variety snob one finds in schools, colleges and work, ... because we had earned the right of passage, it was not given to us in a platter.

We are the ones who know the solutions, and if we do not know, we will grunt it through, and if even grunt is not working, we will faff. We won't fail.

No. Stop. Learn to fail.
Learn to try hard. very hard. And then fail..... (PS I am telling this to myself)

Our parents have been failures in that they have only taught us to win, taught us to strive. Our friends have failed us by telling us we are immortal, or at worst- mortal, but only with them, bacause they are immortal too.

Get up. Brush off. Go on. It's ok.

Great to hear. But who wil teach you to brush off?

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Shaant, gadadhaari Bheem !


Yeh sab kyaaaa ho raha hai???

Such a legendary part.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

... A large-hearted gentleman ...

Is how Jim Corbett described the tiger.

Know what, when I was young, I would read ONLY shikar stories. Corbett, Anderson, Buddhadev Guha, and of course that spinechiller from Africa, Man-eaters of Tsavo.

I am 31 now. And I read a lot of other things. But even today, the Jim Corbett omnibus and the Kenneth Anderson omnibus, and the voluminous 'Wrijuda Samagro'-s are important companions.

I'm sure many of you have such memories as well.... tell me, without the tiger in Indian forests anymore, can your kids enjoy the stories the same way as you could, as you can? It all becomes a bit of a myth, doesn't it?

Save our tigers. For our childhood memories. And our kids'.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Three! Three!

Who was it, Chaitanya, was it you, who once mentioned to me that even if one stops writing, one should never ever put up a 'The blog stops here' post?

Well you were right.

I am not back to this blog. Being back is the equivalent of committing that I will be regular and will treat this blog with affection.

No, really, there is no affection for this blog. I don't care a whit about it. And I am carrying two other blogs, both of which I care a lot more about.

But I will write sometimes. Whatever is not a photograph, and whatever is not on sports, will land up here.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

A game of questions and answers

A few questions (which were asked recently, not over social media, but directly however) require answering.

A) A good friend from college recently dropped in to Bangalore, and her first question was a rather animated 'WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN'?

Well, I have been around. Getting to grips with life. Settling down to a pattern (if you know me even remotely, you will know that I am a sucker for pattern, and similar unromantic terms like logic, sense and continuity. Even peace. Give peace a chance, eh?)... well, I have settled to a pattern now.

If you did not know, I got married about two years back. And married life has been exactly what I had expected it to be i.e. turbulent initially, what with two rather diffident people coming together... and then gradually steady, strong and loving. Love triumphed. And I was discussing with the better half a while back that what marriage gave us was a lot of faith in who and what we are and who we would like to be. Do others feel the same way too? That marriage removes the primary reason for the me-too.

Oh, and might I add, I worked really, really hard at my job. And here's a realization. I love to work hard. I do not really know whether I love my job, I never am able to think rationally on this. And I don't really care. As in, what is the choice? The work is not such that I hate waking up in the morning for it. I am quite happy with work. And when a deliverable is placed, it has to be done, right? And yes, 'Friends claim he's grown aloof and prim/ his boss, though, is well pleased with him'. Fair enough.

B) A colleague asked why I do not write on Business. Especially the outsourcing industry, which he believes (and at the risk of sounding pompous, I concur) that I have a reasonable basic understanding of. At least enough to have a viewpoint on matters. And having worked on Organizational Strategy for a fair bit of time, I have written these humongously long and verbose emails at times which can very easily become blog posts.... On re-reads, they do look like blog posts to me.

I know the answer to this question. The answer is that earlier I did not write because I was not convinced that my ideas were right or logical, and now I don't because I know that my viewpoints are right, and none of these viewpoints are stand-out-ishly new or innovative. They have all been said. And my conviction in them, or non-conviction as the case may be, came about with thought put into the ideas. This comes from increased reading, online and on physical media of course. And am just not interested in actively looking out for the next idea that I could disagree on. Or to tell the world that I have a viewpoint on a certain matter, however staid it might be. There may be another reason, and this stems from my incessant writing on sport. I care deeply about sport. I might not care so deeply about business, that there are points just waiting to come out, even if they have been said a hundred times beforehand.

C) I asked this question to myself. Why are my blog posts the size of tweets, tweets the size of facebook comments, and facebook comments of blogs?

And this is a question that I do not know the answer to very well. Maybe, just maybe, dear reader of this blog, I do not trust you enough to have a conversation with you. I don't know you too well, remember. And facebook friends are fine. Maybe that. I am not sure. I was a fairly regular and diligent blogger once, writing about all kinds of stuff. And I still do write. Then?

D) Why are comments gone?

Answer, for no particular reason. They will be back sometime.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Pine for what is not

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.



My mother's favourite few lines. To a Skylark, by P B Shelley

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Old. List. Success. And Selling short.

Was reading this blog of a friend. She was speaking about how she never had a concrete few things to achieve by a certain age.

It got me thinking. So a few emails ensued, to a few people. And phone calls of course. You know who you are, if you still read this blog.

Puzzling. Is it that you didn't want to tell me, folks? Or is it that I really am so much of an anomaly?

None of you, not even one of you had actually listed down things you wanted to achieve, (or have ... or get ... or have done) by 30? 35? You NEVER made a list? Really?

The oldest (probably the fourth, in all) list of approximates that I made that I still own, of things that I wanted by age 30, which I then modified to 31 and then 32 (and this last little modification is made now), was made at about age 17, when I had just landed up in Kolkata. I am an inveterate and compulsive listmaker; didn't you guess that, Einstein?

Okay, I did not end up having a relationship with that Banerjee girl (what pragmatism... I even have this written as a margin note - marriage is a long term thing, many things change... a smug 'having a relationship' sits beside a scratched out 'marrying'... man, this is funny as hell .... I spoke to her about twice I suppose, but hell was she cute), and neither have I seen an Aurora Borealis, but many of the things I was looking for then, are either accomplished or very nearly so today. Now c'mon, how difficult is an Aurora Borealis really?

And here's the hark back. Is this being defensive? Is this an extension to not really daring to dream, daring to dare? And is it such that setting the bar low, ensuring that I do not really fall flat on my face even looking at a 14-year old scribble, is just another extension of selling myself short?

Know what, I never really thought I was setting the bar low. But I indeed was very intent on being serious about the whole thing.

Dare to dream, they say. But they also say 'Plan to fail, but never fail to plan'. So? So what's the solution?