At the beginning of 2010, I made a resolution that I would attempt to write 100 blogs during the year. I wrote 97. So I did not quite make it. But I was pleased to have written more than I did the previous year. When 2011 arrived, I should have theoretically set a higher goal, considering past progress. However, there was a tiny voice pointing to the 3 that I did not write, emphasizing the fact that I did not make it to the goal. So I decided to target 100 again this year.
I am happy to report that this is the 100th blog this year. It has been quite an experience. Writing takes time. Introspection requires concentration. But what is hardest is paying attention to what is in front of you, being in the moment, assimilating the experience. The tough part of keeping a long term goal is also in being disciplined enough to find a fixed time each day to convert your thoughts to the written word. Although my goal did not require daily writing, I still had difficulty sitting long enough to write coherently.
I know I can write more. I can definitely write better. I can achieve any writing goal that I set my mind to. I hope to set a loftier goal for 2012.
Stay tuned.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
The year that was - 2011
It is that time of the year when newspapers and magazines start listing the major events of the year that is coming to a close. Usually there is a list of famous people who passed on - this year has seen a lot of departures in the arts in India, Bhimsen Joshi, Jagjit Singh, Dev Anand, MF Husain, Shammi Kapoor, to mention a few. There are lists of victories, usually in the sports arena. And there are other significant catastrophes, some made by nature like earthquakes and other made by man like the stock market roller coaster.
I like to personally take stock of what the year means to me, not just what has come my way but what I have done with what I have received. When I look back at 2011, it does not seem very momentous when viewed from an "outside-in" perspective. For example, by the time December 2010 arrived, I had moved into my own apartment and booked my new car. I had handled work and home admirably even tending to my father after his heart attack in the same months that saw much personal and professional movement.
In contrast, 2011 has been a tame year (or is it lame year?). I continue to live in the same apartment without making any significant changes to my living space. I drive my new car with pride and sold the old one after much personal sentimental trauma for letting it go. My work has not changed drastically nor has my bank balance. My daughter is a year older and fully immersed in "teenager-hood" if there is such a word. Nothing too striking.
But if I look from the inside-out, it has been a year of major shifts. I went into a prolonged state of "status quo" with not much work lining up professionally. I struggled hard with the idea of keeping my work life the same or growing the business. I took to meditation in a big way. I went on a couple of lovely holidays. I started learning music once more. I learnt to take things lightly and made progress towards going with the flow. I learnt to trust my intuition in making major decisions without analyzing options to death, as I was used to doing.
I read some lovely books, made new friends. I watched a few good movies but attended several wonderful live performances including the dance festival, the German philharmonic, Runa Laila and many others. I attended a couple of weddings. I bought expensive jewelry (quite scary). I ventured into new territory in the kitchen by making avakai this summer. I was thrilled to be invited to give the keynote address at a symposium to encourage women scientists. I got new clients and secured new business and referrals from existing ones. I mentored some and took advice from others. I gave freely and gratefully received help when I needed it.
I grew as a person. I made peace with myself on many counts.
But just as the newspaper will once again start printing the daily news from January first, so will life go on, one day at a time. The end of the year offers on opportunity to pause, to briefly reflect on the path we have traveled, to observe the milestones we have passed. But our work is to move on. To travel, to grow, to achieve.
I like to personally take stock of what the year means to me, not just what has come my way but what I have done with what I have received. When I look back at 2011, it does not seem very momentous when viewed from an "outside-in" perspective. For example, by the time December 2010 arrived, I had moved into my own apartment and booked my new car. I had handled work and home admirably even tending to my father after his heart attack in the same months that saw much personal and professional movement.
In contrast, 2011 has been a tame year (or is it lame year?). I continue to live in the same apartment without making any significant changes to my living space. I drive my new car with pride and sold the old one after much personal sentimental trauma for letting it go. My work has not changed drastically nor has my bank balance. My daughter is a year older and fully immersed in "teenager-hood" if there is such a word. Nothing too striking.
But if I look from the inside-out, it has been a year of major shifts. I went into a prolonged state of "status quo" with not much work lining up professionally. I struggled hard with the idea of keeping my work life the same or growing the business. I took to meditation in a big way. I went on a couple of lovely holidays. I started learning music once more. I learnt to take things lightly and made progress towards going with the flow. I learnt to trust my intuition in making major decisions without analyzing options to death, as I was used to doing.
I read some lovely books, made new friends. I watched a few good movies but attended several wonderful live performances including the dance festival, the German philharmonic, Runa Laila and many others. I attended a couple of weddings. I bought expensive jewelry (quite scary). I ventured into new territory in the kitchen by making avakai this summer. I was thrilled to be invited to give the keynote address at a symposium to encourage women scientists. I got new clients and secured new business and referrals from existing ones. I mentored some and took advice from others. I gave freely and gratefully received help when I needed it.
I grew as a person. I made peace with myself on many counts.
But just as the newspaper will once again start printing the daily news from January first, so will life go on, one day at a time. The end of the year offers on opportunity to pause, to briefly reflect on the path we have traveled, to observe the milestones we have passed. But our work is to move on. To travel, to grow, to achieve.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Small World
There is a kiddie ride in Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom in Orlando, Florida called “It’s a small world”. As you are ferried in a trolley, you pass scenes from different countries while the song aptly titled “It’s a small world after all” keeps playing in the background ad nauseum. Kids of course love this gentle repetition while adults feel anything but gentle after hearing the rhyme which refuses to dislodge from your brain hours after leaving the ride. But the point it makes, is that we are all the same and still connected to everyone else in the world. I first saw this ride 20 year ago (OMG!). And as the years go by, I find the words to be so true, so often, that once again the rhyme has taken residence in my head.
During my trip to Baroda, I was to spend two days at a site reviewing some of their data. The first person I met, took one look at me and said, “I have met you earlier. I take the weekend class at Xaviers in Mumbai and you came to teach us couple of months ago.” I was astonished. Here I was, in a city which I had visited when I was an awkward teenager. And now, I was being recognized by someone who probably instantly expected me to behave “teacher-like” or worse, was evaluating me to see if I was worthy.
This happens to me so often. I have a handful of clients who are my former colleagues from my work life in the US and they continue to give me work in India because they know me and trust me. Then they spread the word to others who may not know me directly but have an indirect faith in me due to the recommendation of my first level supporters. And if I meet their expectation, they pass on good words and so the circle grows. But every so often, I find clients who know me through two different sources and I know that they diligently seek cross-references before assigning me new work. I can’t control what any of my past client/colleagues will say. But I never worry. Why?
I try to be consistent in my work, whether the client is directly known to me, or is a first-timer. I try to understand their expectations and do the work as if it my personal task, not an outsourced project. I go some extra distance, sometimes that may be an extra mile or at times it is done gratis. But I take pride in the work that leaves my desk, work done as an employee in the past and work I continue to do today as a consultant. One prospective client asked me at a face-to-face meeting, “at the end of the day, you are still a consultant, how can I be sure that you are doing the best for me, I am totally invested in my project as the CEO?” I had not prepared an answer for this question. But I told him the truth. “Everything that I do professionally, I do it with personal pride. It does not matter whether I get paid a salary as an employee or if I get paid on an hourly basis as a consultant. I am here because a former colleague (a European) recommended my work after observing me. You can start by trusting his word but we will continue because you trust me.” I got the project.
Today the world is really small. Technology and mobility have made it impossible for us to remain comfortably anonymous in our silos. There are emails and chats criss-crossing the globe even as we sleep. Someone may be assessing, comparing, complaining or recommending you. You can’t control it. So it is best to ignore what is happening behind your back. It is best to focus on what is at hand. And let your body of work speak for itself.
Need I say more?
During my trip to Baroda, I was to spend two days at a site reviewing some of their data. The first person I met, took one look at me and said, “I have met you earlier. I take the weekend class at Xaviers in Mumbai and you came to teach us couple of months ago.” I was astonished. Here I was, in a city which I had visited when I was an awkward teenager. And now, I was being recognized by someone who probably instantly expected me to behave “teacher-like” or worse, was evaluating me to see if I was worthy.
This happens to me so often. I have a handful of clients who are my former colleagues from my work life in the US and they continue to give me work in India because they know me and trust me. Then they spread the word to others who may not know me directly but have an indirect faith in me due to the recommendation of my first level supporters. And if I meet their expectation, they pass on good words and so the circle grows. But every so often, I find clients who know me through two different sources and I know that they diligently seek cross-references before assigning me new work. I can’t control what any of my past client/colleagues will say. But I never worry. Why?
I try to be consistent in my work, whether the client is directly known to me, or is a first-timer. I try to understand their expectations and do the work as if it my personal task, not an outsourced project. I go some extra distance, sometimes that may be an extra mile or at times it is done gratis. But I take pride in the work that leaves my desk, work done as an employee in the past and work I continue to do today as a consultant. One prospective client asked me at a face-to-face meeting, “at the end of the day, you are still a consultant, how can I be sure that you are doing the best for me, I am totally invested in my project as the CEO?” I had not prepared an answer for this question. But I told him the truth. “Everything that I do professionally, I do it with personal pride. It does not matter whether I get paid a salary as an employee or if I get paid on an hourly basis as a consultant. I am here because a former colleague (a European) recommended my work after observing me. You can start by trusting his word but we will continue because you trust me.” I got the project.
Today the world is really small. Technology and mobility have made it impossible for us to remain comfortably anonymous in our silos. There are emails and chats criss-crossing the globe even as we sleep. Someone may be assessing, comparing, complaining or recommending you. You can’t control it. So it is best to ignore what is happening behind your back. It is best to focus on what is at hand. And let your body of work speak for itself.
Need I say more?
Giving
I just returned from a trip to Gujarat to complete some work. I spent time with my friend in Ahmedabad on my return from Baroda. She was chauffeuring me around to my favorite shopping joints. I noticed a basket in the backseat that had an assortment of clothing, t-shirts, shorts, towels, shawls etc. I wondered but did not ask about its significance. At one of the many traffic circles that dot Ahmedabad's roads, we passed a cycle-rickshaw type contraption pedaled by a young girl, no more than 10 years old, carrying two little kids in the backseat. As we prepared to pass them, my friend asked me to grab three items from the basket and hand it to the older girl. So we pulled up close and asked the girl to come closer so I could hand her the clothes. And then we sped up and zipped by, waving to the smiling snotty-faced kids. It felt amazing to be a part of this random act of kindness. Random perhaps to the recipient but very much a planned activity on the part of the giver who has thoughtfully kept items that can be put to use by the needy and deserving people that we share our world with.
In Paulo Coelho's new book, The Aleph, there is a point at which the author and Yao, his translator/companion during the trans-Siberian journey find themselves begging on a street corner, using their recently emptied plastic coffee cups. It is a strange situation for the two of them to be, given their status in life. But they manage to collect some cash. Yao illuminates Coelho on the significance of seeking alms and the benefits that the act brings not just to the seeker, but also to the giver and most significantly how the cycle affects the place itself. We have known for centuries about monks who live by what they collect by way of alms, accepting what is given, being content, seeking nothing more that the essentials. In the zen (or Buddhist?) tradition, it is believed that the act of giving benefits the recipient obviously because it fulfills his need but it correspondingly fulfills the need of the giver to give and the alms that change hands complete the cycle by moving from one to the other. Thus in places where begging takes place, the atmosphere is elevated due to the ability of all three, the giver, the seeker and the item that is given, to fulfill their own need.
Similarly, in the book "Immortals of Meluha", when Shiva comes across a poor beggar in the land of the Chandravanshis, a man apparently not taken care of by the government, he momentarily feels that the Meluhan ways of equality are superior but he quickly changes his mind when he encounters the generosity of the beggar who willingly shares his meager meal with Shiva, a stranger. Shiva is humbled by this gesture, it is this apparent "lack" that brings in disparity within the population and consequently stimulates the cycle of giving.
It is not always the giver who is blessed, he is materially superior in having something to give, but it is the recipient who brings about the quality of giving in the giver and also provides him an opportunity to act upon his instinct. I have always believed that the ability to give (and receive)willingly is a quality we must develop, whether we do that by reading about it or by following instructions of people who ask us to do it or by watching others do it. We are all givers at some point each day and equally are at the receiving end, whether we seek material gains, or help or praise or love or recognition. Giving something of value to another does not make you great neither does taking something that is offered with good intention make you any less. As long as we are aware that we are a part of the cycle of giving and receiving, our participation in this circle will only help the world become a better place.
In Paulo Coelho's new book, The Aleph, there is a point at which the author and Yao, his translator/companion during the trans-Siberian journey find themselves begging on a street corner, using their recently emptied plastic coffee cups. It is a strange situation for the two of them to be, given their status in life. But they manage to collect some cash. Yao illuminates Coelho on the significance of seeking alms and the benefits that the act brings not just to the seeker, but also to the giver and most significantly how the cycle affects the place itself. We have known for centuries about monks who live by what they collect by way of alms, accepting what is given, being content, seeking nothing more that the essentials. In the zen (or Buddhist?) tradition, it is believed that the act of giving benefits the recipient obviously because it fulfills his need but it correspondingly fulfills the need of the giver to give and the alms that change hands complete the cycle by moving from one to the other. Thus in places where begging takes place, the atmosphere is elevated due to the ability of all three, the giver, the seeker and the item that is given, to fulfill their own need.
Similarly, in the book "Immortals of Meluha", when Shiva comes across a poor beggar in the land of the Chandravanshis, a man apparently not taken care of by the government, he momentarily feels that the Meluhan ways of equality are superior but he quickly changes his mind when he encounters the generosity of the beggar who willingly shares his meager meal with Shiva, a stranger. Shiva is humbled by this gesture, it is this apparent "lack" that brings in disparity within the population and consequently stimulates the cycle of giving.
It is not always the giver who is blessed, he is materially superior in having something to give, but it is the recipient who brings about the quality of giving in the giver and also provides him an opportunity to act upon his instinct. I have always believed that the ability to give (and receive)willingly is a quality we must develop, whether we do that by reading about it or by following instructions of people who ask us to do it or by watching others do it. We are all givers at some point each day and equally are at the receiving end, whether we seek material gains, or help or praise or love or recognition. Giving something of value to another does not make you great neither does taking something that is offered with good intention make you any less. As long as we are aware that we are a part of the cycle of giving and receiving, our participation in this circle will only help the world become a better place.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Peeling an orange
"You know how I know that you love me?" asked Aparna one morning last week as she was getting ready for school. "Because you peel the orange before putting it in my lunch box", she answered, without waiting for my response.
I was taken aback by her observation. I do peel the orange for her. But I also expect her to put her clothes into the laundry basket instead of leaving it on the floor. I ask her what she wants to eat for dinner. I also ask her help me make it.I take her out to watch a movie but I also get her to make her bed. It is the orange peeling that catches her attention. That shows her my love for her. Wow!
When we love someone, we do things that they may not have asked us to do. We go that extra mile without even thinking about it. We don't expect each action to be scrutinized and weighed. We do it freely, unthinkingly, without any expectation. The gestures speak louder than words. There is nothing forced about the tender actions. Of course, we argue and complain and bicker. But all of this is done on the foundation of a strong connection. It is not just the parent-child relationship which is like this.
When love is reciprocated, the two people involved are not perfect but there is nothing that needs to be changed. There is no time like the present to enjoy each moment together. There is no need to convince the other, the feeling is mutual. It is a feeling that needs to be heeded, nurtured and valued. So often we fall into the trap of wanting to fix things in order for it to fit in tidily with our mental picture. But many things in life are beautiful even if not perfect. The beauty of flowers lies in their variety with slight imperfections and mutations. No amount of man-made, 6-sigma techniques of mass production can produce a memorable sunset or a Mona Lisa.
So let us observe the moments when we see the expression of love in simple actions. And be sure to say it aloud. And be grateful to have it in our life. How wonderful to be acknowledged!
I was taken aback by her observation. I do peel the orange for her. But I also expect her to put her clothes into the laundry basket instead of leaving it on the floor. I ask her what she wants to eat for dinner. I also ask her help me make it.I take her out to watch a movie but I also get her to make her bed. It is the orange peeling that catches her attention. That shows her my love for her. Wow!
When we love someone, we do things that they may not have asked us to do. We go that extra mile without even thinking about it. We don't expect each action to be scrutinized and weighed. We do it freely, unthinkingly, without any expectation. The gestures speak louder than words. There is nothing forced about the tender actions. Of course, we argue and complain and bicker. But all of this is done on the foundation of a strong connection. It is not just the parent-child relationship which is like this.
When love is reciprocated, the two people involved are not perfect but there is nothing that needs to be changed. There is no time like the present to enjoy each moment together. There is no need to convince the other, the feeling is mutual. It is a feeling that needs to be heeded, nurtured and valued. So often we fall into the trap of wanting to fix things in order for it to fit in tidily with our mental picture. But many things in life are beautiful even if not perfect. The beauty of flowers lies in their variety with slight imperfections and mutations. No amount of man-made, 6-sigma techniques of mass production can produce a memorable sunset or a Mona Lisa.
So let us observe the moments when we see the expression of love in simple actions. And be sure to say it aloud. And be grateful to have it in our life. How wonderful to be acknowledged!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Learning something new
I am learning to sing. Again. Obtaining formal training from a teacher. This is not the first time I have attempted to learn music.
About 15 years ago, I took my first step towards learning music. I had completed my Ph.D. and found myself jobless, directionless and depressed. The future looked murky at best and each day was difficult. A ray of hope shone at a kid's birthday party where someone directed me towards a middle-aged lady offering Carnatic music classes in the neighborhood. That is how I met Nirmala Mami, a wonderful lady who not only started me off with sa re ga ma but also saw me through some tough times in my personal life. There were days when the only motivation for me to get out of bed was to go to music class. And I had to practice what I had learnt previously at least a little bit before showing up for the next class. I was a quick learner and an interested student. I did not consider myself particularly talented. Two years of classes twice a week was the duration of my music sadhana.
I then moved away. Life changed drastically with the arrival of Aparna and a full time job. Music crept away from my life until another tough patch arrived. Once again I was drawn to singing. This tryst lasted less than a year. Another teacher in the neighborhood, not too demanding. I made very little progress, both on learning and in my confidence in my abilities.
Now I have a fairly smooth life. In my quest to develop my creative side, I again sought a teacher. After a long search, I have found a teacher who comes home once a week. This time I am learning Hindustani music, not just basics but I want to learn some theory and music appreciation. I am learning from a place of peace not pain as in earlier attempts. I am learning it not as a new subject to be understood intellectually. I am trying to understand what type of music I like and what is it that my voice is suited for. It is a different journey this time. After a few sessions, my teacher praised me saying that I have the talent to keep up with her teaching. I felt thrilled.
The journey has just started. What a wonderful place to be!
About 15 years ago, I took my first step towards learning music. I had completed my Ph.D. and found myself jobless, directionless and depressed. The future looked murky at best and each day was difficult. A ray of hope shone at a kid's birthday party where someone directed me towards a middle-aged lady offering Carnatic music classes in the neighborhood. That is how I met Nirmala Mami, a wonderful lady who not only started me off with sa re ga ma but also saw me through some tough times in my personal life. There were days when the only motivation for me to get out of bed was to go to music class. And I had to practice what I had learnt previously at least a little bit before showing up for the next class. I was a quick learner and an interested student. I did not consider myself particularly talented. Two years of classes twice a week was the duration of my music sadhana.
I then moved away. Life changed drastically with the arrival of Aparna and a full time job. Music crept away from my life until another tough patch arrived. Once again I was drawn to singing. This tryst lasted less than a year. Another teacher in the neighborhood, not too demanding. I made very little progress, both on learning and in my confidence in my abilities.
Now I have a fairly smooth life. In my quest to develop my creative side, I again sought a teacher. After a long search, I have found a teacher who comes home once a week. This time I am learning Hindustani music, not just basics but I want to learn some theory and music appreciation. I am learning from a place of peace not pain as in earlier attempts. I am learning it not as a new subject to be understood intellectually. I am trying to understand what type of music I like and what is it that my voice is suited for. It is a different journey this time. After a few sessions, my teacher praised me saying that I have the talent to keep up with her teaching. I felt thrilled.
The journey has just started. What a wonderful place to be!
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Creativity
I watched the movie Rockstar a few days back. The film is ostensibly about a talented singer who is told that he needs to experience pain in order to become a truly successful musician of the likes of Jim Morrison. But the movie is also a typical Hollywood musical with the exotic locales of Kashmir and Prague to spice up the lukewarm chemistry between the boy (Janardhan aka Jordan) and the girl Heer, the muse (aka cause of the pain). While Ranbir Kapoor has done a wonderful job of portraying the main character, the movie does not delve into the psyche of the musician to show his internal evolution from simple boy-next-door to the physically violent artist whose name appears on billboards.
The life of a creative person is supposed to be full of internal and external strife that provides the grist for the creative energy that begs to be let out. A mystery to the majority of us who seem to lead obviously peaceful (aka boring) lives. I have always wondered about the origin of creativity - is it something that is simmering and boiling within these left-brain type people or is it divine intervention that leads to an outpouring of something extraordinary? The best explanation I have found on this subject is in a TED talk by writer Elizabeth Gilbert, best-selling author of the memoir "Eat Pray Love" (link provided below).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA
Why do creative people have this ability to connect with large number of fellow humans but fail at the basic mechanics of living a full life? Many creative people meet violent and untimely death, sometimes at their own hands. Is a "normal" life mutually exclusive from a "creative" life? Are poets, writers, dancers, musicians or artists doomed by their own genius? I don't think so. In recent times we have lost M.F. Husain, Dev Anand, Jagjit Singh and other well-known creative people who lived reasonably long lives, with M.F. Husain leading the pack. Even today we have sitar maestro Ravi Shankar, a living legend who has contributed greatly to the awareness of Indian music on the international scene.
I don't believe creativity short circuits a long life. There is divine intervention in the creation of things of beauty and there is personal struggle. Both are to be experienced. Both are to be borne. Being aware of that drop of divine blessing in the murky waters of ones creative endeavors brings a lightness to the act of creation and releases the artist from the burdens of meeting expectations of their adoring audiences. This perhaps is the hardest lesson to learn. Some leave too soon, before the wisdom of age can dawn while others shine with this knowledge long enough to leave a rich legacy.
The life of a creative person is supposed to be full of internal and external strife that provides the grist for the creative energy that begs to be let out. A mystery to the majority of us who seem to lead obviously peaceful (aka boring) lives. I have always wondered about the origin of creativity - is it something that is simmering and boiling within these left-brain type people or is it divine intervention that leads to an outpouring of something extraordinary? The best explanation I have found on this subject is in a TED talk by writer Elizabeth Gilbert, best-selling author of the memoir "Eat Pray Love" (link provided below).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA
Why do creative people have this ability to connect with large number of fellow humans but fail at the basic mechanics of living a full life? Many creative people meet violent and untimely death, sometimes at their own hands. Is a "normal" life mutually exclusive from a "creative" life? Are poets, writers, dancers, musicians or artists doomed by their own genius? I don't think so. In recent times we have lost M.F. Husain, Dev Anand, Jagjit Singh and other well-known creative people who lived reasonably long lives, with M.F. Husain leading the pack. Even today we have sitar maestro Ravi Shankar, a living legend who has contributed greatly to the awareness of Indian music on the international scene.
I don't believe creativity short circuits a long life. There is divine intervention in the creation of things of beauty and there is personal struggle. Both are to be experienced. Both are to be borne. Being aware of that drop of divine blessing in the murky waters of ones creative endeavors brings a lightness to the act of creation and releases the artist from the burdens of meeting expectations of their adoring audiences. This perhaps is the hardest lesson to learn. Some leave too soon, before the wisdom of age can dawn while others shine with this knowledge long enough to leave a rich legacy.
The Immortals of Meluha - Book Review
Just as remakes of classic movies and remixes of old songs continue to find new audiences, this is a refreshingly engaging book that is a different take on the back story of familiar mythological characters of Shiva and Sati.
The second in this trilogy written by Amish is already in bookstores so a review of a page turner, bestseller seems a little dated. However I was captivated by the story and the story-telling. Here is another writer from IIM who writes from the heart and reaches the reader (and not from the head who aims for his bank balance). The story of tribal leader Shiva who moves his tribe from the harsh environs of their village situated near Lake Mansarovar to the wondrous land of Meluha is a fast-paced tale set in 1900 BC but very much resonant of the times we live in. Amidst order and wealth and good governance, the people of Meluha, immortal as a result of their access to the technology of making somras, the elixir of immortality, suffer from the uncertainty of terrorist attacks that strike unannounced. In a society where science is amazingly advanced, the people still believe in the legend of the Neelkanth, the person whose neck will turn blue upon consumption of somras, the savior who will restore peace.
Shiva's arrival in Meluha and his consequent discovery as being the Neelkanth puts him in the difficult predicament of fulfilling a destiny that is unknown to him. It is refreshing to see his ambivalence at being received as a savior, a title that is uncomfortable at best. His love for Sati, the daughter of the king of Meluha, Daksha, is described with great sensitivity and restraint. The war scenes are vividly narrated. In fact, the whole book is an easy read due to the short chapters and even shorter scenes. It almost reads like a play.
In short, a wonderful book, that I highly recommend to readers of all ages.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Power of a live performance
No matter how many movies I watch, however grand the special effects or big the budget, there is no comparison with a live performance. Be it a scintillating dance, rousing vocals, extraordinary instrumental renditions or live theater, it is difficult to come out of a live performance feeling ambivalent. You either like it or don't. You feel it was worth the time and effort to go see it or a waste of your time.
I watched a live concert by Runa Laila at the Qutub Shahi tombs last week. A cool winter evening, a brightly lit historic site and a live band accompanying a versatile and well-known singer who I have loved since childhood, what a wonderful way to spend a Friday night. Runa Laila is not just a wonderful singer but a great performer who is at her best facing an enthusiastic audience. She sang a lot of her famous songs and also gave in to the many requests that came her way. As the evening progressed and the tempo increased, people came out of their cozy chairs and started dancing in the aisles and a few went up on the stage to move with the music. The lightness in the audience was contagious. I walked out feeling energized and upbeat, to the extent that I got lost driving back home but even that detour did not bother me!
We are so used to hearing recorded programs, CDs and mp3 and take it for granted that music is available to us at the touch of a button. But a recording is a repeat of the original and no matter how many times you listen to the music, it sounds the same. It is a great way to learn, by repetition, but what is missing is the connection to the artist and the energy that flows through them as they connect to their creative zone and pull the audience along. It is this transmission of energy that puts power into a performance and draws audiences. As I heard Runa Laila sing some of my favorite ghazals, I felt inspired to pursue my interest in music. The power of a live performance is not just in being in the moment and enjoying the show but in its ability to draw you out of your comfort zone and show you what is possible.
I watched a live concert by Runa Laila at the Qutub Shahi tombs last week. A cool winter evening, a brightly lit historic site and a live band accompanying a versatile and well-known singer who I have loved since childhood, what a wonderful way to spend a Friday night. Runa Laila is not just a wonderful singer but a great performer who is at her best facing an enthusiastic audience. She sang a lot of her famous songs and also gave in to the many requests that came her way. As the evening progressed and the tempo increased, people came out of their cozy chairs and started dancing in the aisles and a few went up on the stage to move with the music. The lightness in the audience was contagious. I walked out feeling energized and upbeat, to the extent that I got lost driving back home but even that detour did not bother me!
We are so used to hearing recorded programs, CDs and mp3 and take it for granted that music is available to us at the touch of a button. But a recording is a repeat of the original and no matter how many times you listen to the music, it sounds the same. It is a great way to learn, by repetition, but what is missing is the connection to the artist and the energy that flows through them as they connect to their creative zone and pull the audience along. It is this transmission of energy that puts power into a performance and draws audiences. As I heard Runa Laila sing some of my favorite ghazals, I felt inspired to pursue my interest in music. The power of a live performance is not just in being in the moment and enjoying the show but in its ability to draw you out of your comfort zone and show you what is possible.
Being true
My cousin came over for lunch today. I never know what to expect when she visits, thanks to her two little girls under the age of four. There is total chaos, tears, tantrums during their visit and of course, a royal mess when they leave. But its always fun to interact with small children. It is impossible to be anywhere but in the present moment, either to stop a quarrel or prevent an accident or just to observe their funny antics.
The two girls picked things from their hiding places, made toys of regular items, found lost toys, applied new uses to ordinary household items. When the younger one was hungry, she came to me and announced that she was ready to eat. She promptly spit out what she didn't like. She gave me an angry look and clearly asked me to stop laughing when I found some of her cute actions hilarious. She danced with the music. At the end she had a full-blown tantrum in the corridor where she lay down and rolled around, screaming loudly. It's not easy being a kid - no one understands, perhaps that is what she was trying to communicate.
But how can adults understand? We live in a world that is so closed, so guarded. We shield our true feelings, we coat our emotions. We hide behind a curtain to avoid being hurt. We try to say what is right, not what is true. Neither do we praise nor do we criticize freely. We live in a straitjacketed world of political correctness. Not much point in investigating the reasons why and how we transform into boring adults. What we need to learn from kids is that it is OK to let ourselves go more often. Sing loudly, Dance freely. Laugh openly. Speak our mind. Express opinions without fear of repercussions.
The two girls picked things from their hiding places, made toys of regular items, found lost toys, applied new uses to ordinary household items. When the younger one was hungry, she came to me and announced that she was ready to eat. She promptly spit out what she didn't like. She gave me an angry look and clearly asked me to stop laughing when I found some of her cute actions hilarious. She danced with the music. At the end she had a full-blown tantrum in the corridor where she lay down and rolled around, screaming loudly. It's not easy being a kid - no one understands, perhaps that is what she was trying to communicate.
But how can adults understand? We live in a world that is so closed, so guarded. We shield our true feelings, we coat our emotions. We hide behind a curtain to avoid being hurt. We try to say what is right, not what is true. Neither do we praise nor do we criticize freely. We live in a straitjacketed world of political correctness. Not much point in investigating the reasons why and how we transform into boring adults. What we need to learn from kids is that it is OK to let ourselves go more often. Sing loudly, Dance freely. Laugh openly. Speak our mind. Express opinions without fear of repercussions.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Love and responsibility
I am reading the bestseller, Immortals of Meluha, a sort of historical/mythological fiction where the central character is Shiva. The book describes the kingdom of Meluha which is an almost perfect society created by Lord Ram. For all of us familiar with the story of Lord Ram, the name conjures up the image of a perfect person who lead is life strictly on the path of dharma. He is seen as the epitome of righteousness for silently obeying his father's orders to step down from the throne that was rightfully his and to spend several years in exile. A man must do his duty, do what is right - this is the message that most people take home.
But is it right to blindly follow orders? Is it the responsibility of children to obey their parents wishes, even if it seems unfair or downright wrong? A debatable subject in today's society. Given the glorious example of Lord Ram, a son understands that he should do as told. But is that all that Lord Ram did? Yes, obviously he followed the mandate. However, what is not dwelt upon is the fact that he did it for the love of his father, without any rancor, without prejudice towards Kaikeyi, without hatred to his brother. Doing something simply because "it is the right thing to do" without being convinced does not give you brownie points with the Almighty. If it was purely a check-box type list that you had to get through in a life in order to win celestial favors in the next life, perhaps doing the responsible thing will get you ahead. But if the act is done with an underlying ill will towards the other, both the action and its fruit are wasted. You are not much better than the person who does not fulfill his responsibility. If you are looking for a good outcome to your actions, there must be love and a genuine good intention as the foundation of everything you do. Do your work with love.
This is a lesson that I took a long time to learn. Now I am more watchful. I check the underlying feeling before I take up any activity and if there is a doubt about my motivation, I let the job wait until I am in a better frame of mind to do justice to it. Today I had to teach at the college but I was not mentally ready. So I decided to try something new. We had an impromptu debate in class on an ongoing current issue and used a lot of our skills besides the obvious technical knowledge to dialog and discuss openly without hostility. I think the students enjoyed the change. I certainly felt I had used the time allotted to me wisely. I know that it will be a long wait until I see the fruit of this interaction but since we all put our good intention and enthusiasm into it, I am sure it is worth waiting for.
But is it right to blindly follow orders? Is it the responsibility of children to obey their parents wishes, even if it seems unfair or downright wrong? A debatable subject in today's society. Given the glorious example of Lord Ram, a son understands that he should do as told. But is that all that Lord Ram did? Yes, obviously he followed the mandate. However, what is not dwelt upon is the fact that he did it for the love of his father, without any rancor, without prejudice towards Kaikeyi, without hatred to his brother. Doing something simply because "it is the right thing to do" without being convinced does not give you brownie points with the Almighty. If it was purely a check-box type list that you had to get through in a life in order to win celestial favors in the next life, perhaps doing the responsible thing will get you ahead. But if the act is done with an underlying ill will towards the other, both the action and its fruit are wasted. You are not much better than the person who does not fulfill his responsibility. If you are looking for a good outcome to your actions, there must be love and a genuine good intention as the foundation of everything you do. Do your work with love.
This is a lesson that I took a long time to learn. Now I am more watchful. I check the underlying feeling before I take up any activity and if there is a doubt about my motivation, I let the job wait until I am in a better frame of mind to do justice to it. Today I had to teach at the college but I was not mentally ready. So I decided to try something new. We had an impromptu debate in class on an ongoing current issue and used a lot of our skills besides the obvious technical knowledge to dialog and discuss openly without hostility. I think the students enjoyed the change. I certainly felt I had used the time allotted to me wisely. I know that it will be a long wait until I see the fruit of this interaction but since we all put our good intention and enthusiasm into it, I am sure it is worth waiting for.
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