The gift of monsoons

Graphic from Jinksy at Alias Jinksy

(Two in Tandem series)

The empty pit is filled with water to the brim;

Teeming with life, and with colours blue and green.

Tiny flowers in a multitude of colours;

The oil spill floating on water for hours;

And alongside those, the weeds that have sprung up;

Show me scenes from the artist’s universe.

Rains truly have a wondrous effect;

Turning a Patna garbage pit into a heavenly lake.

A cab ride to the nineteenth century

When I was a young child, there was just one television network here: the national network called ‘Doordarshan’. The invasion of a plethora of channels on the Indian television had not yet happened. We had very limited choice. During weekdays, 'Doordarshan' programmes were telecast only for a few hours in the evening. Although my memory is a little blurred, I do remember that most of the daily programmes were around agriculture. We used to wait patiently for the clock to strike nine, for it was then that we could watch ‘Lucy’ on television.

Weekends on television were more entertaining. Sunday mornings were the best. My father used to watch an English show that featured a tall, thin man with sunken and thoughtful eyes as the chief protagonist. There used to be a shorter man with a moustache who would always be with the tall one. Together, they went about in horse driven carriages and hansom cabs, solving mysteries on my television, Sunday after Sunday. Each episode was for one hour, and my father decreed pin-drop silence in the house during that hour.

To my young, inexperienced ears, the British accent of the show was a little difficult to follow initially. However, in a few weeks I grew used to it and could soon understand every word. The fact that my school, founded by British sisters, used British pronunciations, helped me to understand the accent better.

So, that was how I was introduced to Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, when I was a seven year old. The first time I would read Arthur Conan Doyle would be several years later, though still in school. It was a short story called ‘The Blue Carbuncle’ featuring the tall, bohemian detective. I would then go on to rummage bookstores and book fairs in Patna to get hold of all Sherlock Holmes short stories and novels. And this was how I got hooked to vintage mystery stories. Finally, I had grown up to look beyond Enid Blyton.

It has been close to two decades since this happened. And even today, for me, the charm of vintage remains irresistible. While my reading interests have broadened significantly, I cannot look away when I see a collection of vintage detective stories. Modern day forensics and technology might have helped real crime detection, but the methods of the mind, as was characteristic of nineteenth century fictional detectives, fascinate me a lot more.

That is precisely the reason why, when I saw this book on the shelves a couple of years ago, I immediately bought it. I have just finished reading it.

The book is a compilation of fifty detective stories; forty-nine are short stories, and the last one is a novella. I hadn’t read any of these stories earlier, and that is not surprising, since the compiler admits that forgotten narratives from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century form the bulk of this collection. Like most things earthly, I found some stories in the book very good, some good, some average, and some not so good. Overall, I enjoyed the hansom cab ride back to the nineteenth century.

Elements of Nature

Inspired by graphic from Jinksy at Alias Jinksy 

(Two in Tandem series)

Air, fire, water and earth; I discovered all of them inside myself.

With air I soar up and high; I am detached and my thoughts are free.

The fire in me powers my world; I march ahead, I can do it all.

Earth is what keeps me real; I take in my stride, all that I see and hear.

And water brings me peace of mind; it helps me feel and calms my fears.

As I see this eclectic mix in me, I smile.

You’ll see it too, when you look inside.

Monsoons are here

We finally got a respite from the insufferable heat. Monsoons arrived a few days back. Temperatures have gone down by a good five degrees. That is a big relief. Consequently, power cuts have become extremely bearable.

A day before the monsoons came to the city, we had a pre-monsoon thunderstorm. The coconut tree in my neighbour’s yard swayed from side to side like a mad drunkard. I watched, standing on my terrace, even though it was hopelessly dusty outside.

Then, the next day monsoon rains poured into the city. The amount of rainfall was good, though by no means overwhelming. And yet, look at what a few hours of moderate rainfall did to my street.

I enjoyed the weather from my sheltered terrace. I don't think I would have enjoyed being out on the streets so much, though!

Goodbye, old love

Ten long years have passed since I first set my eyes on you. I still remember the excitement I experienced when you entered my room for the first time. I stayed up almost till daybreak. For two years, we lived together. For two years, we explored the whole world together from our room. I know you loved the ‘lakeview rooms’ as much as I did. Ten years since our first meeting, wow!

It is time to say good bye now, old love. From the long study desk in my hostel room to the table in the corner of my erstwhile room in Patna, you have been a part of my life. It is true that after B-school, I haven’t given you consistent company. It was for the better, for with your rapid ageing, you probably would have broken down much earlier if I taxed you too much.

The inevitable end has come, for it must come to each one of us, sooner or later. I hope you rest in peace. And I say thank you to you for being a faithful companion, first to me, and then to my family, all these years.

Goodbye, old love!

Lessons from my NGO stint

Since the January of last year, I have been leading a life that is a little unconventional for someone in my place and position. I chose to take that life out of my own free will and learnt a lot on the way. Ever since I started reflecting on the wide gamut of issues yesterday afternoon, it struck me that writing down lessons from each of the last eighteen months would be a good idea. I know these lessons apply to me, but they may or may not apply to others.

January 2010

Job offers from the social sector; adieu to corporate job.

Don’t be scared of making unconventional decisions, but do your research before you take a final call.

February 2010

Vipassana; left Delhi, back to Patna; a bunch of odd jobs.

Meditation heals the soul.

March 2010

In two minds over Sierra Leone, attended training in Delhi, but decided to pass the job; accepted Pune job offer.

Exploring new avenues gives you the much needed enthusiasm after a dull, dreary stint.

April 2010

Preparing for Pune; doing odd jobs; left Patna.

It is a good idea to relax before taking up a particularly tiring assignment.

May 2010

Arrived in Pune; first impressions of the job and peers not very good.

Even if you are the most rational, logical left-brained person alive, never ever ignore your gut instinct.

June 2010

Placed in a saree school, almost left but eventually stayed; found a cosy apartment; settled in; learnt to wear a saree.

Do not lose yourself completely in an effort to comply; say ‘no’ when you know you must, and if it doesn’t fly, leave. The more you bend backwards to comply against your wishes, the more you will be expected to bend; it is like circular reference, never yields the correct result.

July 2010

Short visit from parents; setting up the apartment; got a cooking gas connection; started cooking all my meals by myself; settled down in Royal Roses; huge class, no electricity, no toilet, no food, no public transportation; school administration was cheating parents out of hard earned money; reported to my NGO, got an evasive reply.

Enjoy the small things of life, they are the most endearing and they will give you the strength to take on bigger challenges. And whoever you are, learn to cook.

August 2010

On my feet for seven hours every day in a wet saree; developed joint pain, muscular pain and chronic fatigue; cut down heavily on water consumption in the absence of a loo; started to practise bladder control; 15^th August preparations and show; read ‘Banker to the poor’; started learning how deeply entrenched in corruption and dishonesty the administration and the Trust was.

The body can only take so much, learn to listen to your body and respect its limitations. Drink adequate water, and never knowingly accept employment in a place where you cannot use the bathroom for seven-eight hours at a stretch.

September 2010

Many holidays; feeling better; started to visit student communities; reflected on the decision to be in Pune doing what I was doing, started boycotting fluffy sessions; more instances of dishonesty and money laundering at school; again reported to parent NGO, but advised against taking a strict stance.

Enjoy your vacations; take tough stances on things you know are wrong. While cheating innocent or ignorant people is never a good idea, it is incriminatingly criminal if you profess to work in the social sector. Following your superior’s instructions in indulging in practices that you know are wrong and unethical under the garb of not being in a position to speak up against it because you are new to the system, or because it is not your job, takes away from you the chance to plead ‘not guilty’. Remember aiding and abetting? Charging students 250 for a form that actually sells for 25 is an act of fraud. And if you do it, notwithstanding under whosoever’s instructions you do it, you are an equal partner in crime.

October 2010

Mid-term exams and Diwali vacations; more money laundering; finally got down to reading, read ‘Destructive Emotions’, ‘The Art of Choosing’, ‘Teach like a Champion’.

Read and relax when you get time.

November 2010

Ahmedabad retreat – all show and little substance; bought a printer; school reopened; no response to concerns raised on corruption; continued to not go to meaningless sessions.

To know that a seemingly noble looking act or profession is actually not worth it, you have to experience it firsthand.

December 2010

Bad meeting with Clark; that clinched it – I decided to leave after completing the academic year; good riddance.

If you know you should leave, leave.

January 2011

Meeting with Clark and Sheth; offer of changing school, but I said no; immediate peers knew I’d be leaving after academic year; school annual day.

If you know your reasons well, do not let cheap thrills or temptations deviate you.

February 2011

More nonsense at school; this time I took a hard stance, and surprisingly, authorities backed off; Pavi’s engagement.

Be yourself, under all circumstances; people will know exactly what they are dealing with.

March 2011

Cracks earlier running beneath the surface came to the fore; was in for a lot of coldness; kept a distance and a civil demeanour; end of year assessments and final examinations.

It is not important to like everyone, most likely you will not; and it is a perfectly normal human situation to be in.

April 2011

Realized this was the only instance in my entire work history where I didn’t make good friends at the workplace; last month at work clearly showed me I was isolated from the others; did not feel good even though I was never in doubt about the stances I had taken; finally it was over; left Pune.

Unless you are God, or really saintly, people will piss you off. You don’t often have a control over their behaviour, but you always have control over how you react to it. Be true to yourself; do not try to be artificially extra nice to people you don’t like. It usually shows, and who trusts a fake? But not liking someone is not an excuse to be nasty to them or behave pettily. You are what you do, so if you don’t like them, maintain a distance and be civil.

May 2011

A whole new world of relaxation; staying at Tutu’s place took care of some ailments developed during the last one year; short trip to sister; returned to Patna.

Disconnect from the humdrum of the world for a while, relax and take care of your health.

 June 2011

Life goes on at home; introspection, meditation and planning.

When you make unusual decisions, be prepared to handle uncomfortable questions.

Reflections

It is my blog’s birthday today. It completes four years. This is my sixty-seventh post. Clearly, I haven’t been a consistent or prolific blogger.  In fact, about eight months ago, I abandoned this blog for a new one, wanting to make a new start. Over the next few months, I realized that to make a new start you do not necessarily need to completely wash out your past. And I resumed here.

Yeah. Life has been a learning opportunity. Successes, failures and the whole nine yards. It has also been an adventure, with my constant yearning for change. That said, I have to confess that often I am deluged with a sense of purposelessness. I mean, what is it that I am doing? What is it that I have done?

Have I been too selfish, thinking only about myself? In trying to be responsible to a thousand outsiders, have I been recklessly irresponsible towards the few who matter? I have taken pride in my ability to speak my mind and be upfront with people. I have always believed that integrity is, before anything else, being true to your own self. If you don’t like something and you say that you do, you are not being true to yourself. Following this precept, have I sometimes been upfront to the point of insensitivity? I feel like I am seeing this whole new ugly side of me. It was such a long journey, and yet, I am where I started. While I am grateful for all that I have, I’ll also be honest in admitting that I want more.

I recently wrote to a dedicated Vipassana practitioner, to elicit some suggestions on getting my derailed practise back on track. Among the points he mentioned, one made me think hard. While I have maintained that people do not need to introduce more suffering in their lives for spiritual practise, is it perhaps possible that I was actually trying to do the reverse? Thanks Nick, for pointing this out to me.

I have also realized how therapeutic writing is. Just giving words to my innermost conflicts has helped me consider them in different perspectives. Well, as I continue to ponder over these existential questions, I’m sure a lot of things will come to light. May be the mind will think of something. For now, coming back to my day to day life, I have decided to learn basic conversational French, and may be a bit of Italian in my few months at home, before I start full time gainful employment again. Of course, the prayer that the right job comes my way when I look for it, goes without saying. So, help me, God!

Reality Check

Till about a six or seven years ago, Bihar had been widely reported to be languishing under successive corrupt governments. Patna, my hometown, and the capital of Bihar was believed to have lost itself in the pits of backwardness.

Well, I grew up here. And I studied here, right from primary schooling to undergraduate studies. I even worked here for a year after completing my bachelor's degree. You could say that I have been familiar with many different aspects of Bihar. It was only when I got an admission offer from my B-school that I left Patna, left Bihar.

I was out of the state for ten years, and have just recently come back here. While away, I have been following the change in tone of the reports covering Bihar. I was pleased to know that my home state had been making progress. That the new, progressive Chief Minister of the state, Nitish Kumar was doing all he could to take the state out of the pits it had fallen into.

When I returned to Patna a few weeks ago to live here for some time, and do some development sector work, I was expecting to see a vast change in the overall landscape - infrastructure, cleanliness, health and sanitation, public transportation, electricity situation - you name it.

Now that I have started moving around the city a bit for work, the situation on the ground has become clearer to me. There are certainly a lot more cars - big and small - on the streets. There are also several new flyovers. Unfortunately, I do not see too much more positive change. One of the premier commercial complexes in the heart of the city is filthier than it was ten years ago. The pervading stink of urine nauseated me. There is still no viable means of public transportation. Drains keep overflowing. Garbage doesn't get picked up from many residential areas. Power cuts are frequent and prolonged. But the thing that disappointed me most was the number of women who venture out generally. The situation is still what it was ten years ago.

I'm starting to wonder, is all the progress story more of a PR and marketing exercise? I do not deny that there has been some change. But, considering the noise that has been made about it, I am a tad disappointed.

Saturday

It is another sultry Saturday. I have a lot to read, study, write and consider. This is a welcome change from the schedules I have been used to. The last one year was particularly hard, nay torturous. It was out and out my decision, and I paid through the nose for it. Thankfully, I have recovered.

I still think about the children sometimes. Once in a while, they crawl up in my dreams. I wake up with the immediate intent of preparing for the class, but soon realize that I'm no longer there.

Saturdays have invariably been closely tied to 'me time' in my memory. Currently, that impression is blurring. For these days, I get plenty of 'me time'. And I'm grateful for it.

I'm no longer hooked to the TV on Saturdays. Neither do I look forward to eating out. Rather, I feel content with my books, diary and laptop. Is this a permanent change, or a temporary one, dictated by a change in lifestyle? I don't know. But, I like this change. I feel more satisfied these days. Perhaps because I'm generally calmer and healthier now.

I have the half-read My Experiments with Truth - Mahatma Gandhi's autobiography - waiting to be finished. No offence to Gandhi, but I really am not liking this book too much. May be it is my cynicism, nevertheless, the book appears to have a self-elevating tone to it. There is something painstaking about the writing that I don't like too much. It is me in all likelihood, and not Gandhi's autobiography. I should just take a break from that book and get back to finish it later.

Strings that bind

I met you on foreign shores years ago.
That we'd stay in touch till now, I didn't know.
We were as good friends as colleagues could be.
Oh! what chats we had over lunch and tea!

Wishing each other farewell at that time,
We didn't know what life had designed.
Our letters brought us closer than we had been.
Life goes in cycles, as we have both seen.

That our lives would be similar, oceans apart,
We could not have known right from the start.
May you achieve happiness and satisfaction in all you do,
And the strings that bind us shower their blessings on you.

Avoid Boring People

Nobel laureate Dr. James D. Watson’s autobiography ‘Avoid Boring People’ is anything but boring. Unlike some of the other autobiographies I have read, this one neither dwells too much on the autobiographer’s philosophies about life, nor on long winded explanations of his actions. That is a good thing. The ability to be objective about oneself is a quality I greatly admire in people.

Dr. Watson has summarized each chapter in the book with lessons he learnt from each chapter of his life. He refers to it as a ‘life in science’. That, precisely, is what the book is all about. While he does not skip mentioning major events from his personal life, he has stopped at the bare minimum. Almost all his lessons are from his life in science.

A large part of the book talks about genetics, structure and composition of DNA and RNA - topics that constituted the major thrust of Dr. Watson’s research. The story of discovery of the structure of DNA is fascinating. So is Dr. Watson’s honesty in narrating how he and Francis Crick got lucky in their quest for the structure of DNA. He attributes their joint success in unravelling the double helix structure to immense assistance from several colleagues. To quote him, “Francis and I were far from being on our own”. Crick and Watson left behind several other worthy competitors in this quest, each of who had the opportunity to make this discovery before them. Notable among them were  Alex Todd, professor of organic chemistry at Cambridge University who won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 1957; Linus Pauling, the great Caltech professor who won a Nobel Peace Prize and Rosalind Franklin, the dark lady of DNA who tragically died from ovarian cancer at the young age of thirty-eight.

Dr. Watson also talks in detail about his long stint at Harvard, and subsequent reluctant resignation. That he loves the university is obvious from the way he writes about his stint there. Not so much love is expressed for his fellow colleagues at the Department of Biology, who he largely considers to be mediocre and old fashioned. In the chapter about his resignation from Harvard, he expresses his dismay over not getting a proper farewell. Nevertheless, he poignantly says that even he was not immune to the old chestnut that there is no life after Harvard. Later in the book, he highlights the issues he faced when he tried to publish his manuscript, ‘The Double Helix’.

Three catastrophic assassinations that rocked the United States and the world find a mention – President John F. Kennedy’s, his brother and Democratic presidential nomination aspirant Robert F. Kennedy’s and Martin Luther King’s. At one point, he says that the military is interested in what scientists know, not what they think. Indeed!

Some parts of the book that focus in detail on his research would be a little over the head for people who are not from a molecular biology background, and these parts I skimmed quickly. Another minor issue I faced was keeping track of the people he introduced. Thankfully, he has included a ‘Cast of Characters’ section at the end of the book.

The best part of the book is the last section of each chapter that summarizes the lessons learnt from that particular phase. And that is where the title also originates from. In more than one chapter, he advises us to avoid boring people. What does he mean by that? Well, for one, do not keep company of boring people – ones who cannot make any intelligent, thought provoking conversation, who thrive on banality. Second, don’t become boring yourself. You become boring when you start to get bored with yourself, doing the same thing, reading the same stuff. You should act younger than you look, and not the vice-versa.

Overall, I liked reading this book. It was fairly fast paced, full of events and incidents. Watson never lingers in half baked philosophies. He does not brag. Neither does he seem to be full of self importance. He candidly admits that he realized fairly early in school that however much he wanted to be a super intelligent child prodigy; he was really in the above average category. 

So there - that is one more lesson: Don't think you cannot win the Nobel Prize if you don't demonstrate a super high IQ. Genius(es) are overrated. After the above average mark, focused determination, humility, willingness to learn and the support of your mentors and peers are too important to ignore.

Dancing in the rain

In the last few days, the soaring mercury and the prolonged power cuts, compounded with the effect of living on the top floor of a building made me feel as if my body was going to hell in a handbasket. Sweat rashes were all over my forehead, neck and torso. With temperature running northwards of forty degree celsius, and no electricity, the continuous and profuse sweating hardly helped matters. I had been cursing tropical summers and the State Electricity Board.

Until this afternoon.

The electricity went off at two. It was extremely hot and humid. As usual, I was drenched in sweat. One full hour elapsed, and no power yet. Come on, get used to this, I told myself.

Suddenly, the weather changed. In a matter of minutes, the piercing, bright yellow sunshine first became diffused, and then went behind a heavy blanket of clouds. Dark, black clouds. The kind that bring rain. A strong wind started to blow. Suddenly, the air seemed cooler. Ah! relief at last. Finally, it rained.

There is something extremely sanative and soothing about rains after a dry, hot spell of tropical weather. It is like heaven on earth. After many, many years, I was running and dancing in the rain. It is so much more fun than I had expected.

I hope the weather stays cool tomorrow as well.

The Tell-Tale Brain

V.S. Ramachandran’s ‘The Tell-Tale Brain’ is a delectable attempt to decipher the unexplained connections between the brain, mind and body. It is a scientist’s narrative.

The book is replete with instances of peculiar behaviour aberrations in people, most of who have been Ramachandran’s patients. He describes the oddities, proceeds to lay down a hypothesis, and then delves deeper as a neuroscientist, explaining and justifying his hypothesis. Every explanation has some kind of an anatomical basis in the structure of the brain, and this is where I found the book so elegant.

A layman like me, who has no formal education either in psychology or in neurosciences could understand every bit of what he has talked about in the book. The thrust has been on what constitutes the “self” and how the inner self interacts with the world while at the same time maintaining its privacy.

Ramachandran does not belong to the class of people who like to say, ‘God desired it thus’, and he never once shirks back from attempting a scientific explanation for the oddest of behaviours demonstrated by his patients. He deals with fascinating subjects like phantom limbs, synesthesia, art and aesthetics. The connections and subtle differences between between seeing and knowing, identifying and recognizing make a very interesting read. He also talks in detail about autism and the development of language. With respect to mental afflictions, especially autism, he lays a lot of emphasis on what he calls mirror neurons.

I have done some serious reading on different topics in psychology; but Ramachandran’s book is by far the most interesting piece of scientific literature that I have read in this field. So much so, that after finding me engrossed in brain science for the last one week, my mother asked me if I was planning on a career switch to study the brain! While I did not give a clear answer to that, I cannot but help imagine how interesting that sort of a career would be.

The disputed wedding

Mr. BL was a General Manager in a prestigious public sector bank. He retired over half a decade ago. He has always been a fit man, and even today, looks younger than his age. He also has a reputation of being a loud, short-fuse and dominating man. His wife of over forty years passed away last year. I am told that her death could have been prevented had she been communicative enough, or had her husband been caring enough. I am also told that she was too scared to mention any symptoms of fatigue or illness to her husband. The couple's children live in different cities and used to visit them once in a year. They duly came after their mother's demise, stayed for two weeks and went back to their own worlds.

Yesterday, I came to know that Mr. BL married for the second time last week. I'm told he married for company as he was feeling too lonely after the demise of his wife. Fair enough. But that was not all. Mr. LC, who was our source, took an obvious delight in narrating the dramatic sequences prior to the wedding.

Mr. BL's children, while refusing to be a part of the wedding, had ultimately left it to their father to take the final call. Their first cousin P, however, was vehement in his disapproval (although his opinion had not been asked for). P is late Mrs. BL's nephew, and was very close to her. Mr. BL's second marriage had been on cards for the last six months, but everytime P played spoilsport. Once, he bad mouthed Mr. BL to the bride to be. Another time, he brought in police to investigate the death of his aunt.

Mr. BL, the lonely widower finally found a way out. He found a small temple in the outskirts, and got his marriage solemnized by a priest at midnight. There were no guests, only two witnesses. This was followed by violent reactions from P, who, I am told, is still fuming. He is contemplating bringing about a murder by negligence charge. The children have vowed not to come home for at least two years to honour their mother's memory.

I'm writing about this because in the last twenty-four hours I have not figured out how to react to this.