happy2fight

Beijing 01

2007-05-25T23:06:00.000-07:00

Madhuri and I went to Beijing on 19th and came back on 24th May. I was attending an AACSB conference. Mads went sight-seeing. These are some impressions of Beijing.

The first evening we went out with Leo to find some veg food. In the vicinity, there was a Department of Chemistry of the University. So we saw lots of students moving on the streets. Then there were the street food joints serving hot and spicy stuff. The aroma was inviting indeed but we stepped aside. I could see many couples moving around, some clinging close to each other. I remarked about it to Leo.

Leo looked at me and said, 'But, it is normal, isn't it? Not so in your country?' It struck me that the Chinese have progressed primarily because they have shrugged off a lot of the baggage of conservative and unrealistic notions about life. In the restaurant again there were many couples. A boy got too close to his girlfriend. I became uncomfortable. Nobody seemed to mind. So I surmised this again was considered normal.

I heard this word 'normal' a few times more in conversations with the Chinese. I wondered if in India we had the same notions of what is normal between boys and girls. I thought about it and felt that it was very important to remove false notions about distance, separation and customs from the minds of young adults. That way they could see the challenges before them and take responsibility for their life.

I asked our guide if there were instances of misbehaviour with women on the public transport. She looked at me askance. Misbehaviour? Everyone behaves responsibly. That is normal, she said.

Fading not fading

2006-06-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

Born into an alien land
he made it his home.
Grew up playing his way
through and out of confines.
His skin glowed and admiration followed.
But his head didn't turn, though held high.
He kept his head and used it wisely
to home in impossible winners.
Adoration grew to make him
into some kind of magician.
He knew who he was - human,
attracting love, fear and jealousy.
When he failed, he did not fall
to the hue and cry around.
He is fading, they said
and why can't he just bow out.
But they couldn't do without him.
Insults and humiliation
to him a part of the game.
He came back and played
like he always had with
that touch of class his own.
The magic still intact.
The magic of being human
utterly and totally.

-in honour of Zinedine Zidane

Summer 2

2006-06-09T05:12:00.000-07:00

Summer mornings break early
and summon me to the balcony
for the morning breeze.
Old men, mid-age women
in clean clothes march in
and around the park
to a pink fitness.
Water bottles in hand
platoons of construction
workers march to
the public toilets
to begin another day
of construction for
clean bodies to dwell.

Gurgaon June 06.

Summer

2006-06-09T05:06:00.000-07:00

Tiny leaves green
shade steelbars grey
from the sun blazing hot
Birds chirp in the breeze

The boy at the traffic signal

2006-06-09T04:53:00.000-07:00

(In Delhi, you come across boys trying to sell all kinds of books when cars stop at the Traffic Signal)

The boy sits
on the side of the road
in the shade
books on lap
drooping head
about to doze off.
Just then a car honks by -
in the scorching heat
the prospect of a sale
long awaited?
A forlorn look
the boy gives
and does not move.

Delhi, May 06

Fighting with myself

2005-12-28T23:30:00.000-08:00

From time to time
I look for my past.
Sometimes I find it
Breathing down my neck
Dictating what I should be doing.
At times I lose sight of it
And feel a lot lighter.
Then I hear the familiar footfalls.
As they come nearer
The whispers grow louder
- But whispers still –
Telling me what I should have
Done and not. At such times
I find myself listening with strained
Ears to every small note and get tired
Only to fall asleep.
Sometimes I fight with him
And tell him to shut up.
I can’t bear to hear all
Those curses and all
Those murky burps
The burning sensation inside.
When it is not there, I look for it
And when my Past stares me in the face
I turn away and avoid.
I have heard that this ghastly creature
Can also be friendly. I don’t believe it
Nor do I want to try it. Don’t you think so?

Companions

2005-07-07T00:28:00.000-07:00

As one phase comes to an end, a new beginning is made. Like all
beginnings, there are both cheer and anxiety as your companions. Let
cheer walk with you and anxiety walk behind. Anxiety will keep you
from taking undue risks. But let it not walk ahead of you, for then
it will block your vision. Let cheer walk by your side, for then you
will hear birds chirp, see a child smile without reason and speak to
the flowers waiting to bloom. When there is a spring in your step one
too many, let anxiety slow you down. When steps become weary, let
cheer drive away the burdening thoughts. May every step bring you
closer to the joy of living.

More than a meeting

2005-06-07T18:04:00.000-07:00

I met the chairman in his office at his request. This is not usually done, so as to maintain cordiality and independence from the elected members. Other colleagues can also suspect that such meetings can be used for private ends. So it is the unwritten rule that one does not meet the elected members outside formal fora. For me this was the first time I was doing so.

He wanted to know the progress on the project. I explained the situation and gave him my view regarding the causes of delay. He then talked of the dynamics around the project and wanted to know as to who would take the responsibility of the new institution in future. He then asked me if I could continue for a couple of years more. He would ensure I get all the facilities. The whole discussion had by then acquired a grave tonality. I was in a frame of mind, where my commitment to the society was going to once again outweigh my commitment to myself. I caught myself there and asked for time to consult my wife. I also mentioned the need to take care of my health and related issues.

After talking it over with my wife, several instances when the elected members behaved shabbily came back to my mind. I did not allow that to affect my commitment to the society. But I had decided to act in line with my dignity and honour. The decision to go for furlough was a part of this line of thought. No amount of compensation for the pettiness of those actions can now suffice.

It's time to move on...

The gentle tap

2005-04-04T19:15:00.000-07:00

The gentle tap on the shoulder
When I looked back there was no one
I checked again
but there was no one.
Some invisible intimation perhaps.
A friendly tap to pause
or stop in the track of thoughts
ranging from taking liberty
with fancies
to fancying philosophical ways.
An eager signal to look back
on those who made the path
and now lie forgotten
and remember them with gratitude.
A soft reminder that one is
not alone even in
the private space of one's
reveries.
I came out and asked if
the building housed invisible
spirits.
'Isn't that obvious?' They said.
'The body houses the soul and
you have not had time to
heed.' And added:
'one doesn't talk about
such things
at dusk.' Mumbai, 1 Apr 05.

Not only back

2005-03-14T07:23:00.000-08:00

I am not only back on the blog, but also in a new avatar. I handed over charge of my post as Director of an Institute to my colleague of 15 years. I felt mighty happy that I could disengage myself from a seat of power without anyone asking me to step out or down. A lot of tension has gone out of my mind. I am free to think of what I need to do. Of course, my organisation has asked me to handle a new project about which I am not at all enthusiastic. It is in a mess. There is no clear policy regarding finance. There is no one taking responsibility for the policy. In a way, it is an opportunity. The only thing is at my age I am not enamoured of such opportunities. I am experiencing greater peace of mind and equanimity. In the meantime I put out the translation on my blog muktabai.blogspot.com/

I do hope somebody reads it and gives comments on it. I am looking forward to it. It was a sufi saint, glory be to his memory, who asked me to read these verses in Marathi. Perhaps he could hear the storms raging in my heart. It is after 18 years of that suggestion and repeated readings that I finally translated them.

Back after a break

2005-01-08T06:12:00.000-08:00

Well,it's nice to be blogging again.

We didn't celebrate New Year's eve in our customary fashion of inviting all our relatives to the place. A death, a cancer treatment and a 92-year old uncle of my wife, Madhuri, disappearing for good stalled the usual celebration. So we had a quiet get-together with my in-laws.

I decided to give myself a new look and got a hair cut after the style of my fav footballer, Zinedine Zidane of France and Real Madrid. My barber hesitated and couldn't stop grinning at the close cropped crown of a 54-year old man. On two earlier occasions, the barber's hesitation had rubbed on to me and I had denied myself the pleasure. This time I pushed and got what I wanted, much to the amusement of all colleagues and students and consternation of my wife.

The world will think what it will and that's ok. I feel good and that is important. A young student presented me with sunglasses saying it would look good on me. I went to Mumbai and was mistaken for an army officer. Not bad. But the grey part of the pate prompted a lot of people on the street and in the train and the bus to call me uncle.

I still get taken aback at this reminder of advancing age, since I continue to think of myself as a young man. At the most middle aged. But certainly not old. Then I told myself, enjoy the respect and consideration which comes along with the uncle bit without your asking.

That's one thing I need to learn: enjoy and not shrink from the courtesies extended by others.

Spotting smartness

2004-11-29T06:16:00.000-08:00

Herself reflected: The hopes and fears

As I began to do the typing work, I noticed for the first time that even a letterhead could be done smartly. Then I met a few people in person sometimes. They were as smart as their letterheads. I was not only impressed, but also drawn towards them. They exuded confidence, spoke smoothly and knew exactly what they wanted and what they were doing. Well, I certainly wanted to be like them. It so turned out in that business that most of the callers and visitors were male. I had this great desire to unravel the mystery of their confidence. I would look for a small opening in the conversation and ask them about some detail of their background.

There was this caller, who appeared to be well into his forties from his voice, who would always fix up an evening meeting with my boss. I soon learnt he was the Chairman of a trust that ran a hospital. He would always be sweet and friendly on the phone. Once I made bold to tell him that I wanted a chance to meet him in person. He laughed. After a few days my Boss told me that Dr Cholkar had appreciated my way of handling calls. I was thrilled. I also realised that Dr Cholkar was a well-known personality in the city and regarded as a very effective speaker. He would get frequent mentions in the local newspaper. He didn't appear too smart but wielded some power alright. He did remark once that he liked my voice on the phone.

Some of the regular visitors to the office became friendly. I felt good with the kind of male attention. I realised I was slowly getting disengaged from the female company. Wasn't that what I wanted? I started doing little things with my appearance, like not wearing the bindi sometimes, wearing my hair shoulder length, keeping them open on Saturdays. I wanted to wear pants and jeans. I would have to save some money for that.

Sushama noticed these small changes in my behaviour. She was a nice and warm person but wasn't willing to step out of the line too much. I wasn't enjoying her company as much as I did in the beginning. So I started spending more time in the office after office hours, doing odd bits of work. That was how I first met Dr Cholkar.

Systems and people

2004-11-29T05:34:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that willy nilly I don't pay attention or respect to the people around me, if I find that they are not in tune with the Great Cause around which we gather. The Cause matters more than the people.

As I reflect I realise that the Cause exists because people are not cast in that mould. I am in Education and the cause is to contribute to the regeneration of our dormant society through it. People in power are interested in feeling powerful out of their nagging and petty little insecurities. If they don't experience power, they come face to face with their shallowness. That upsets them no end.

I sit in judgement over them, deride them and in my mind cancel them out. When I come face to face, I don't show them any respect, though never found wanting in courtesies. That is annoying for them. I said to myself the other day that all this has turned out to be self defeating. Let me try something instead.

So the other day, I showed respect alongwith courtesies to the Grand Old Man of our system. Let him enjoy his pomposity, he has a right to it. I will not get down to the petty level of grudging him his pettiness. Then with respect I stated my views very clearly and just as I was getting a little sharp, I stopped myself. Let me fully enjoy the freedom of stating where I am and what I want. That's what I did - trying to deal with my own pettiness.

I think there is some hope there.

The festival of lights

2004-11-14T03:40:00.000-08:00

happy2fight

The past week was one of feasts and siestas, morning walks and small talks. I didn't have to go to office, nor did I want to. My recently-wed daughter,M and son-in-law,K, celebrated their first festival of lights according to the custom. We invited them over for lunch and they reciprocated. Them in India means the couple, the parents and the first of kin of the parents. So the party at our place had over thirty people. At theirs, it must have been slightly less. We exchanged gifts. I received an intricately carved silver box, small enough to hold in the palm. Very exquisite indeed.

It was a big occasion for my wife, her mother and sister and they happily planned for it days in advance. The high point always is the menu of the feast. This time they included a lot of items from the South instead of the traditional ones and combined them with a few North Indian delicacies.

The women in India do not think in terms of tradition Vs modernity. They work with tradition AND modernity. That helps them get on with their job in a more imaginative way. Tradition demands you cook every thing at home. Modernity offers you a wide choice of ready-to-eat items. Modernity offers you immense choices from India and abroad. These Ladies get on with the only job they know, that is, to celebrate life in togetherness. They are simply great!

A ritual

2004-11-06T05:55:00.000-08:00

happy2fight

This morning our process lab ended with the ritual of the Magic Pot. The lab spread over 5 days with four sessions of small group work, each session of 90 minutes. We spent time talking of our experiences and then exploring them with the underlying choices and meanings that we hold. We also talked of our feelings of here and now. We were two facilitators with 14 participants.

The ritual of the Magic Pot is very powerful indeed. It needs to be held very firmly and delicately. Participants come to the pot and announce what they would like to leave behind, as they prepare to depart. This morning the pot received so many things: numbness, overaggression, diffidence, impatience, procrastination, dread of losing parents and so on. Every time the pot - consisting of five people sitting in a circle - receives something, it gives back to the participant something or the other.

The pot does not give reassurances and guarantees nor does it offer compensations for the negativities. Instead, it looks at the whole experience surrounding the socalled negativity and the experiencer and offers that part which the participant is not in a position to look at and own. It is extremely interesting, rewarding, humanising and demanding to explore the universe surrounding the negativity.

As I write this, I am with the offering of Numbness. To me, it has meant suffering, helplessness and also protection against incapacity. Too much suffering can render me incapacitated. Instead I become numb and carry on. But I don't want to continue benumbed. Then I have to work with my suffering. I have to face it and unfreeze myself so that I can move. I need to offer some warmth to myself. Where do I discover it? When it gets too cold, I rub my palms and feel warm. I can't wish away pain and suffering. I can bring my hands together. So as the person offers numbness, let the person recover the need to protect oneself from incapacity and discover inner resources that offer warmth to oneself and if necessary, feel free to ask for warmth from others. That's what the pot offers back.

As I took my place in the pot, I started working with myself and feeling into the statements of the participants. In that time of 90 minutes I went round my own world of feelings so many times.

The ritual ends on an interesting note. The Magic Pot is not outside us, but inside us. We can invoke it whenever we get restless and offer those negativities and await its gifts in return.

In the Journey

2004-10-30T06:15:00.000-07:00

When I stepped into the compartment of the train to Belgaum and saw four white co-travellers, I did pause for a moment. They wore printed cotton t-shirts and trousers that came close to pajamas. Evidently they had travelled the previous 24 hours from Delhi and had another 12 hours to Goa, the beaches.

The bald and bearded gentleman was overjoyed to see the book of Mulla Nasruddin's tales in my hand. He was reading Osho. His girlfriend was sketching with crayons in her notebook. They spoke a language I could not make out. Then I started listening to the conversation of the couple that sat opposite. I could make out the English accent. I quite like the twang or whatever they speak with.
The English girl was getting rattled by the constant swinging and chatter of about half a dozen kids in the train. They kept holding the handles and taking swings. The kids were going to Goa after giving their exams and their parents weren't bothered with their antics.

In one such swing, the kid held on to the skirt of the English girl, who had stood up just then. It got pulled down a wee bit and she went white with embarrassment and hid her face in the shawl for some time. I noticed the last part of this momentary tug. My companion- it turned out to be a Russian beauty - did not notice anything. The English girl asked her, did you see what happened? She was relieved that the Russian hadn't seen it. Her irritation with the kids started shooting up. She shooed them away twice.

When meals were served, I asked the girl if they were English. She said yes. I told her I quite liked the accent. She thanked me. Just then another kid came and stood near watching the contents of my plate. I asked him what he wanted. His gaze was fixed on some sticker. Perhaps there was some contest for the kids who collected 10s of these stickers. I gave the sticker to him. The English girl said, "rascals, aren't they?" I said yes. "But children would be children", she was trying to reason with herself. "Yes, but there is a limit to their pranks. Parents have to tell the children how to behave in the company of adults. We keep telling adults how to treat children. That's fine and there is a time for children also to grow up and learn to keep quiet." She agreed. The grandma of one of the kids overheard this conversation, took the hint and called her ward to order and peace.

Both the foreign couples were quite engrossed with what they were doing and with each other as the lights were turned off. I searched for evidence of drug usage, as I placed these people in the Hippies. I didn't find any traces, they were healthy, eating a lot of fruit(the English girl said tropical fruit were very expensive in UK) and did not smoke much. They wore simple and decent clothes, unlike the hippies.

I got in touch with so many of my own preconcieved notions about hippies and the like. When it became too much, I fell asleep.

That's it

2004-10-20T08:04:00.000-07:00

happy2fight: Friends and poets

It's not important to know, it's vital to touch.
It doesn't matter who you are, it matters what you are.
It's not important to know who you are. It's vital that I am touched by what you are.
It's ok that you work, it's better that you express.
It's fine that you respond, it's wonderful that you care.
That's it : the touch that cares.
Give it to receive it.

Friends and poets

2004-10-18T07:53:00.000-07:00

I spent an evening with two of my brothers-in-law, who are past 60, who love a drink or two and love poetry. We all share a love for Hindi film lyrics as well. As the evening wore on, we moved from spirit to spirit, floating lightly. As my favourite numbers were sung, they pointed out that these numbers were all set to tune by a musician, who was known for racy music. Surprisingly, my favourites were all soft and romantic numbers, set to very classical tunes by the particular musician. Not many of his fans would recognise these as his creations.

Then the older of the Bil recited the first line of a verse extempore:-

"This tavern turns old dandies into simple souls"

and asked me to complete the second line. My offering was this:-

"And the world calls this intensity by the name of inebriation."

He soon fell asleep. The other Bil decided to stay on. I came home, mortally afraid that my wife Mads would make mincemeat of me. I live for another day!

Dreams

2004-10-16T02:17:00.000-07:00

happy2fight: A poem

I had a peculiar dream this morning. I was on the net and the site was such that whenever I wrote something and clicked, it would give a response and ask me to move on. I cannot remember anything of the site or the words, but can only recall the feeling that the responses were trying to strengthen me in some unknown way. Very strange indeed!

Well, my unconscious mind is telling me something. I don't wish to try and decode it rationally. I am sure I will lose it that way. So may be wait for the mind to calm down and settle down to its slow rhythm, so that it could be at its receptive best. Is that emptying the mind? I have felt rested at times when I have emptied the clutter of thoughts.

A poem

2004-10-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

happy2fight
I wrote this poem some years ago and was reminded of it when I read a romantic poem this afternoon.
I was a romantic person. Was..?

"Your soft words
like birds flying high
with abandon and joy.
silent spaces shower blessings.
Mists in your eyes
rise beyond hills
inviting souls to hug".

Self destruction

2004-10-08T05:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, a young man from the institute died in a road accident while riding a motorcycle. I had known him to be reckless and others confirmed his motorcycle habits to be of the dangerous kind. He was returning from an outing to a nearby dam, when this happened.

I have seen the self destructive tendencies in such adventurers and have been wondering where they come from. They drive themselves crazy, go to the brink and pull back. Some drink themselves out. without the drive to self destruction, they cannot experience themselves perhaps. They feel special when others watch in awe and advice caution.

Can I experience myself in special situations only? I have enjoyed once the simple breeze in the morning, the hot sip of black tea and cool, clear water. Sometimes a puff of tobacco. Other times, the sunset. The pranks of small children. A simple talk with the friend. Also a climb in the mountains and a swim in the river. How is it that thrill arises in courting danger? Is it some kind of show of superiority? Retaliation against hostile rejections?

Concrete Roads

2004-10-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

Walking on the smooth metal
of the concrete road,
I keep looking at the alluring
path in
the wilderness.
I have left the concrete
many times,
to wander into the wilderness
and thrive in the open,
wide spaces, breathing
fully and freely.
But the ghosts always
hurl me back
on the metalled road.
The ghosts that people
the concrete world and I
thought they lived in the wilds.

happy2fight: poise

2004-09-30T04:13:00.000-07:00

happy2fight: happy2fight

I went into a meeting with a mental poise- a resolve that however stormy the issues, I will remain calm and unruffled. Two members cleverly started pointing accusing fingers at a colleague of mine and me. I did not get rattled. My colleague did. I put across my point calmly. It did not have any impact. I did not labour it long, leaving it where it was. My colleague went into a lengthy defence, which brought him into deeper waters. When a direct allegation was hurled at me, I countered by pointing out the lapse of the opponent. He did not take to it kindly. Towards the end of the meeting, he realised the futility of arguing beyond a point. I joked about it and all of us loosened. The hot air vanished.

I reflected on my temporary lapse from my poise. I still relish tripping others if they go on a blast. It gives me tremendous kicks. It is really pointless. At 54, I should give myself the liberty sometimes to be childish and adolescentish. People refer to me as a senior life member. That's a bit silly. Fighting like teenagers disturbs my poise for some time longer. I have better things to get excited about. After the meeting, I asked my socalled oppo for a lift. He agreed. His front tyre was punctured. He apologised for his inability to drop me back. He has an air of deviousness about him, which is charming, like the God of all Tricks, Krishna. I am no less devious.

happy2fight: friendship

2004-09-25T07:54:00.000-07:00

happy2fight: happy2fight

Thanks Ciara for putting my blog into blogs you like. To remind me of the hand of friendship, I have copied my comment on your 'deepest fears' below.

I experience myself when I am quiet. I watch the beginning of a thought and a feeling and go slowly into it. The idea of me and watching seems to go away. There is only that moment. If you call this as Light, may be it is. I don't want to fill my head with ideas. They block my light. I long for the moment of that intimate conversation with myself. Yes, it is true, then my conversations with others are also on a different plane. It struck me that a female cannot be a nobody, given the energy that resides in her.

As I sometimes taste the free spirit, there is a thought that comes up asking me to redefine my life. I don't know from where this bird comes and lands up right in front of me. It prances about for some time and then flies away. I can't catch it. Let me observe it closely though.

happy2fight

2004-09-23T07:45:00.000-07:00

happy2fight

If you force something towards an end, you produce the contrary. I have been using this principle in my forays into setting up a new institution at Mumbai. There are already people there who are running an institution. In their premises is going to come up a new one. The people working there must have a connection with the new. It has to be different from what they have been doing. Yet, they must connect with it in some way. This means it must connect with their aspirations. They desire something from the future. They have some dissatisfaction with the way things are. They also have ideas to address the issues that give rise to the dissatisfaction. It is my effort to kindle this interest in them to act on their discontent.

Of course, things cannot go at the same pace. The pace must quicken, but it must sit well with them. I have to show them this can happen. I have my own ideas. I have to put them across without forcing them down their throat. I have to also become a part of that set-up. I cannot stand outside and give them marching orders. I have to march with them. My pace of doing things is different from theirs. I have to express this clearly to them.

It should be interesting to see how this happens.

Struggle: what it is?

2004-09-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

My struggle is to make others see that in their pursuit of narrow selfish ends, they are destroying the spirit of the institution. In this I seem to be sitting in judgement over them. That's why they do not listen to me.

Instead, I can ask them what their vision is. What do they see as the spirit of the institution? What do they see as their role? Are they achieving it?

If they answer these questions honestly, there is room for dialogue. If they don't, the real issue is their location in the scheme of things. They are there to serve their own ends. It is better to ask them to leave or I should part with their company.

If I try to resolve my conflicts, it is not going to help. I must go to the root of the conflict. Then there is a way out.

Let me see what happens.

Happiness is to fight

2004-09-20T08:10:00.000-07:00

Karl Marx used to return late from the British Museum library. He could not buy any toys for his daughters. But he would play a game with them - a game of words. His daughter would ask him a question and Marx would give an answer.

Once she asked, what is happiness, Papa? You can see the innocent face of the poor girl, who knew only the joy of her parents' company and nothing more. Marx replied," Happiness is to fight." I wonder what the poor girl must have got from it.

I have fought many times. I believed I was fighting the forces of the evil at times. The fight was lonely and long. Sometimes I was battling myself. The road ahead then looked dark. If I stood firm, and I did, I found help coming from unexpected quarters. There were good people who believed in justice and goodness and came forward to help.

To meet such people of goodness, I considered, was my good fortune. Even to this date, I recall those days when we fought and found comrades-in-arms. That camaraderie is not of the cafe or of the bar or the cinemahall. It is enduring. It restores and sustains faith in the future and goodness of human beings.

I don't know what Marx meant when he said that. This is what I have experienced.