Lessons About Life

I feared being alone, until I learned to like myself

I feared failure, until I realized that I only fail when I don’t try

I feared success, until I realized that I had to try in order to be happy with myself

I feared people’s opinions, until I learned that people would have opinions about me anyway

I feared rejection, until I learned to have faith in myself

I feared pain, until I realized that it‘s necessary for growth

I feared the truth, until I saw the ugliness in lies

I feared life, until I experienced its beauty

I feared death, until I realized that it’s not an end, but a beginning

I feared my destiny, until I realized that I had the power to change my life

I feared hate, until I saw that it was nothing more than ignorance

I feared love, until it touched my heart, making the darkness fade into endlessly
sunny days

I feared ridicule, until I learned how to laugh at myself

I feared growing old, until I realized that I gained wisdom every day

I feared the future, until I realized that life just kept getting better

I feared the past, until I realized that it could no longer hurt me

I feared the dark, until I saw the beauty of the starlight

I feared the light, until I learned that the truth would give me strength

I feared change, until I saw that even the most beautiful butterfly has to undergo metamorphosis before it could fly.

We came across this poem in the senior school bulletin board.
Something to think about as another year and a decade come to an end, or is it a new beginning?

A gentler way

We have been at Rishi Valley for a few days now. The school is located in a quiet campus. We walk everywhere. The area is a plastic-free zone. Food is served only in the dining area at regular intervals. There is no occasion to snack and no means of obtaining unhealthy snack wrapped in plastic, and therefore there is no litter. With no TVs, computers and other variety of electrical gadgets blasting ear-piercing sounds, it is serenely quiet. Even cell-phone usage is restricted. In these surroundings, it is natural to find people speaking softly, kindly.

There is no race to get to the office, no tearing rush to beat the traffic, but everything is done at the prescribed time. Work gets done, but without the trappings of stress and pressure that we assume go hand-in-hand with accomplishing your goals.

Is it the current state of our society that is making us loud and callous or is it our loud, callous behavior creating a more stressful society?

Confessions of a Shopaholic - Book Review

This is a book written just so it can be made into a movie and surely, the little blurb on the paperback I am reading says “Now a major motion picture”; which also means that I am reading it probably a few years after it showed up in bookstores and became a bestseller. Written by Sophie Kinsella in the typical breezy chick-lit genre, it another Bridget Jones, in the guise of Becky Bloomwood, a twenty-something with a job she can barely tolerate but needs desperately to pay for her addiction.
Retail-therapy is what works for our heroine, as the title suggests. As you flip through the pages, you find her acquiring objects with a frenzy that is mind-boggling. From her penchant for cappuccino and chocolate to her obsession with branded clothes and shoes, she comes across as an air-head with a credit card but no concept of living within her means. As all addicts, she lies and cheats to feed her weakness but instead of dark drama , the narrative is light-hearted and downright funny.

Situated in the happening city of London, we come across names of all major retailers including Harrods and some that may not be as familiar to readers from other countries. But it is hard to not be reminded of the predicament of damsels in distress across centuries from the time of Jane Austen, who need to be rescued by knights in shining armor. In times of fiscal crisis as Becky finds herself in with her credit cards confiscated and accounts that are penniless, she comes across not one but two prospective knights of the new millennium who have the potential to save her.

The book is an easy read, funny and light, good to take while awaiting that delayed flight or to take along on a holiday.

Absolute Minimum

I want to share something I read in the Hindu, an excerpt from an interview with Venky Ramakrishnan, this year’s Nobel Prize winner for biology who said “Do not pursue anything that you are not interested in. This is the absolute minimum to succeed.”

Sounds simple enough – do what you like and success will kiss your feet. Ramakrishnan himself studied theoretical physics but switched over to biology where much more cutting edge research was taking place and had great potential for applications in several fields. The formula worked for him. What about the rest of us?

Today I am approached by a lot of students who are pursuing higher education in various fields. They have little clarity on what opportunities they will have once they finish college. They are equally unclear about what got them into this field to begin with. Sometimes students ask me to tell them what they should be studying. Most of them are stumped when I ask them, “What do you like?”

In this era of information overload, youngsters are savvy enough to pick out a cell phone from the myriad brands and features available to them but when it comes to knowing themselves, they seem extremely unsure. Why this dichotomy? Isn’t self-awareness a worthy trait to have? Are we nurturing it in society? Is there a formula to inculcate such an intangible quality in our youth?

Shouldn’t we match the educational choices of our children to their aptitude and innate talents and then give them tools to polish their skills? Instead we find children trying to live the dreams of their parents or following textbook advice about careers that are not suitable for them. It takes a lifetime to unravel this tangled web to look for that nugget of self that has been buried under the expectations of society.

As the Nobel laureate suggests, it may be worthwhile to take a few minutes to answer the question of “What interests you?” before building dreams of a Nobel prize.

A pause

I once read a book by a fairly established Indian writer, for some reason, the name of the book escapes me but I was fascinated by the description of music that filled the pages. The book was a work of fiction and the central character was a famous classical Indian music singer. The richness of the language that described the beauty of the ragas and the constant struggle of the artist to not overpower but grasp the intricacies of the notes were beautifully described. Somewhere it was mentioned that just as the notes and words made up the substance of the song, it was the pause between the notes that made it melodious.

I am reminded of the significance of a pause as I spend the last few days of 2010 in the serene surroundings of Rishi Valley. Located near the town of Madanapally in Andhra Pradesh, this institution founded by thinker, J. Krishnamurti, is well known for its residential school. There is a study centre here where teachings of the founder are available for study.

Right now, school is in progress. We join the students for meals but are free to wander around the campus. There is no automobile or sound pollution, cellphones are prohibited, except in the guesthouse, and internet is limited. There is no television. The mornings bring in the sun with the sounds of birds chirping closeby. The days are spent in quiet introspection although I still spend a few hours catching up on work. The nights are chilly, with clear starry nights, unobscured by smog. We seem to have many more hours at our disposal in the evenings since we don't have to give them up to the TV god.

It seems that this pause is essential, to mark the end of the year, to enable the beginning of another. The slower pace of life punctuates the stream of activity that forms the rest of the year and shines light on the melody that is around us.

A new experience

Today I went for a test drive for my next car. I have narrowed my choice own to the Volkswagen Vento. I went to Orion Motors and got into the white demo car. It felt good to get behind the wheel of a brand new car and drive along the smooth roads around KBR Park. I looked at the price list and asked about the accessories. When we returned back to the showroom, I was told that I would have to wait at least a couple of months for the car to be delivered. I don't mind.

I started driving almost 20 years ago and always thought of a car as a necessary means for getting around, specially when I lived in the US. I usually did not contribute much to the discussion about the model/make/series. I was happy to have a vehicle to drive. I was not too concerned about speakers and upholstery, price tag or social prestige associated with owning a vehicles. I did not participate in negotiations with the dealer. I was just a "user".

When I finally get this car delivered to my doorstep, this will be the first car that I drive, which is bought by me, for me. I would have chosen, tested and of course, paid for it myself. The car that I have picked is truly reflection of me at this time of my life. The whole car buying experience is itself a a major step. Like other things I have learnt to do for myself, I have now taken another step, or should I say, a leap?

How Starbucks Saved My Life - Book review

I picked up the book attracted by the title - coffee is definitely classified as a stimulating beverage but lifesaving? I was intrigued by the description that it was "the riches to rags story of a man who had it all, then lost it all and found it again."

The book is a memoir of Michael Gates Gill, a man in his sixties, living in New York, who finds himself in unexpected circumstances after a life of privilege. Son of a prominent writer and blessed with a picture-perfect life; prestigious job at a respected advertising agency, wife and kids, houses and corporate perks, Michael loves the life of luxury that he is blessed with. But with sudden job loss, followed by other personal misfortunes, he finds himself without a job, a home and all alone.

That is when he walks into a Starbucks for a latte and is asked by a young black woman whether he wants a job. On a whim and clutching the offer as a last straw, Michael begins a new life as a "partner" at Starbucks. He literally learns a new way of life and begins by cleaning the toilet and floors. Over a period of time, Michael learns not only how to start a new career from the bottom of the ladder but also interacts with people who were never part of his social sphere and learns about respect, dignity of labor and most importantly, how to find happiness in life. Starbucks provides a supportive work environment which respects guests and partners (as customers and employees as called in Starbucks lingo) and provides the ideal space for Michael to have his epiphanies. He builds a relationship with his grown children on an equal footing and regains his self-esteem.

The book is written in a light, narrative style with broad glimpses of life in upper-class New York society, a time in US history where Michael is fortunate enough to meet the likes of Jackie Kennedy, Ernest Hemmingway and others. There are personal insights along the way including advice on how precious moments of life are bypassed in the quest for career success, fame or money.

As the story chronicles Michael's life for a period of almost a year, the book appears to be not just the story of one person but of Starbucks as an organization that truly strives to be different in its approach towards both its partners as well as its guests.

I particularly liked the quotes at the beginning of each chapter which are quotes printed on the side of coffee cups at Starbucks, either extracts from songs or by guests at Starbucks. My favorite one was "The human catalysts for dreamers are the teachers and encouragers that dreamers encounter throughout their lives. So here's a special thanks to all of the teachers." Micheal describes his school teacher, Miss Markham, who kept faith in Michael who as a boy who could not read until he was in sixth grade and wrote him a prediction "Michael Gates Gill is destined to be great."

For most of the book, the teacher's prediction seemed redundant considering that a child born into the lap of luxury, graduate of Yale, top brass at a prestigious ad agency, pretty much had lived a live preordained through his birth until his sixties. But at the end of the book, Michael acknowledges all the significant influences in the writing of the book and the fact that it was chosen to be made into a film by the incredibly talented Tom Hanks.

Michael Gill attained his greatness as predicted by Miss Markham, but only when he rewrote his fate by starting over, at the place where most of us live all our lives.

Time for introspection

I met a friend for lunch today. We were talking about plans for the upcoming year end weekends. He mentioned that he likes to stay put at this time of the year to reflect back on the year that was. For a typical extrovert that appears to be, it seemed out of character. I asked him how he scored 2010. He said it had been "brilliant" and set out to list all the accomplishments - finally getting his Ph.D., a promotion, building scientific rigor in the group that he managed. But he also listed his trips to Corbett and Bandhavgarh to see the tigers, his hobby of photography and his passion for teaching that he had been able to follow.

I was impressed. He was able to articulate the important things he had accomplished but more significantly, he was able to give himself credit for it.

So often I find myself rushing from one activity to another, moving from one completed project to another, hardly keeping track of how I feel about it. I have had a good year too but I will need more time to list the highlights. Perhaps I need to underline what I would like to keep on the list or do more of in the new year and savor the satisfaction of all the accomplishments.

I am taking a few days off next week. I plan to get on with that list and articulate the goals for next year as well.

You should too.

Invention and innovation

I have thought of myself as a scientist for quite some time now, without dwelling too much on what that really meant. But yesterday I attended the inauguration of my friend's company. It was a small function but significant milestone for my friend, herself a scientist who has now turned entrepreneur.

The Chief Guest spoke about the definition of invention and innovation and quoted the famous economist Schumpeter who has elaborated on the topic of innovation and entrepreneurship. While invention is the domain of the scientist who is always on the lookout for something new, innovation is the act of making a product that can actually be used by society. Innovation leads to entrepreneurship. Scientists may or may not be entrepreneurs but major progress in many fields comes about as a result of a combination of talents, from those who are scientists and others with the entrepreneurial spirit. Occasionally, a scientist is able to himself make the transition from invention to innovation. We were celebrating the fruition of one such transformation yesterday.

Long live scientists and entrepreneurs. May their tribe increase.

Thought for the day

I read this last week in "Connect the Dots". It is featured in the "Advice to Entrepreneurs" section of the chapter on R. Sriram, founder of Crossword bookstore.

He quotes the chairman of Starbucks as having said:

To succeed you need to care more than others think wise. You need to risk more than others think safe. You need to dream more than others think practical and you need to expect more than others think possible."

The words came to me when I was wrestling with some issues on growing my business. Thinking about them has made me more clear-headed as I weigh options.

Will let you know.

First, let me get that cup of coffee.

A wish, revisited

Almost 10 years ago, Volkswagen launched the new version of the classic Beetle in the US. I used to drive a Toyota Corolla then, a nondescript silver sedan with 100K miles on it. I had recently been promoted and was told that I needed a new car. I am not an automobile buff. Apart from driving, I just make sure there is enough fuel to get to my destination, occasionally I check the tire pressure or get servicing done. I did not have any particular car that I coveted. And then came the red Beetle that stole my heart.

I loved the dome-shaped head, the cute lights and the overall glamor quotient. The two-door tiny car was not the most practical choice when you have to ferry around a three-year old in a car seat. But I wanted a Beetle, a little red bug. Given the popularity of the model, there were no red bugs in the entire state of California. I was told it would take 3 weeks, at least, to get one from a VW dealership across the state border. And somewhere in those three weeks, I lost interest.

So I drove the old Corolla for two more years.

Now, it's time to buy a new car. Just when VW is introducing its fleet in India.

I think I will get a Volkswagen. But should I get the Beetle?

Readers - I would like your opinion.

Two books and half a review

I have been busy lately that my most prized activity of the day, bedtime reading has been abandoned in favor of a few extra minutes of well-deserved sleep.

I browse bookstores in airports and quite frequently stock up on books. I have even finished reading whole books while waiting to board delayed flights! Given such a track record, I have missed feeding my reading habit and only in the last week have I got back on the reading wagon again.

What am I reading now? A book called "Connect the Dots", the words printed upside down on the front cover, with little "." (dots) where the "o" should be in the two main words of the title. Cute. It is a book compiled by Rashmi Bansal, considered a bestselling author due to the success of her previous compilation, "Stay hungry stay foolish." The author is not truly a writer, but more of a narrator of the true stories of people. An IIM-A graduate herself, she chose 25 IIM alumni who had ventured into the world of entrepreneurship and told their stories.

The current book, though based on similar lines, i.e. stories of 20 people, has one thing in common - they do NOT have management degrees. Many are not highly educated and all of them have no formal training on starting or running a business. They have achieved varying degrees of success in various fields, ranging from retail restaurant chains, quirky t-shirts, software and cheese.

Both books leave you feeling cheated, not for the stories of courageous individuals who stepped off the beaten track but for the quality of the writing. Pedestrian prose, very few insights and poor quality of narration. The books are poor literature but the people themselves, specially in "Connect the dots", are stellar examples of how one person can overcome ordinary challenges and create extraordinary ventures. A little common sense, a lot of commitment to the cause and immense faith in oneself, is all that is needed to create successful business because all the degrees in the world will not instill these qualities in you if you don't possess the seed to begin with.

My other disappointment is with the fact that both books feature only 2 women each - either the sampling is skewed (for the stories that were selected) or the statistic is sad, if the selection truly represents entrepreneurship potential of women. I think there are many women entrepreneurs out there who routinely forge a new path but perhaps their company turnover is not sufficient to make it to this list.

Therein lies the problem - the perception of success in your work-life, measured by the money you make, is like measuring rain water in rupees - the value of life-giving water when you need it most, is ridiculous when weighed in terms of material wealth. Perhaps women (and some men too) measure success with different yardsticks.

To quote Anand Halve, founder of "Chlorophyll" - a brand consultancy, featured in the earlier book who mentioned that they use three yardsticks in order to work on any project "It must give us money, or it must give us fame, or it must give us great joy".

Perhaps one day there will be a book on people who chose paths that diverged from the road well-traveled, and chose the one that lead to a joyful life.

998 pieces

Ever tried putting together a jigsaw puzzle?
A giant one?
I did.

In my dining room hangs a picture of downtown San Francisco. It is a reproduction of an artists perception of the historic city. But it is not a painting. Not a print of the original painting, nor is it a photograph. It is actually a frame where a 1000 piece puzzle of San Francisco is mounted.

The puzzle was a gift to Aparna, on our recent US visit. We decided to tackle the puzzle in the three weeks that we had in the country. It took us, about....oh, days and days of squinting at tiny pieces and trying to find the right place to put it in. We found Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown and Crooked Street without too much trouble but the spectacular skyline of the city, with the prominent TransAmerica building and the numerous others that dot the beautiful blue skies, took a lot of time. When we had most of the pieces in place, we noticed that one piece was missing. No amount of searching could locate it.

So one day, we declared that we were done, albeit with 999 pieces! We bought puzzle glue that held the pieces together. We wrapped our creation in two large sheets of newspaper and tried to put it in the suitcase to bring it home. It fit, but barely. The puzzle made it across the seas without too much trouble but lost another piece in transit! The assembled jigsaw puzzle was now in India, but with 998 pieces.

It stayed put for almost 2 months and just prior to the move to my own place, I decided to give it a permanent place where it would be safe. It now hangs in a large cherry wood frame in my dining room.

Quite often it is a topic of conversation. People sometime recognize the cityscape, most often they are surprised to find out that it is a puzzle but hardly anyone notices the missing pieces. To my eyes, I can't help but notice the empty spaces between the 998 other pieces. This is so true of our life. We focus on flaws, on what is missing and seldom "get" the big picture. We rarely give ourselves credit for what we have done or achieved, we tend to look at what is "not there".

But what is surely there, is this beautiful assembled jigsaw puzzle that serves as a daily reminder of where I am today, whole, not necessarily perfect.

Working on holiday

I was in Ooty last week. I have been really busy with work lately, so most of my friends thought that I was taking a well-deserved vacation. I would have been happy if that was the case. I was actually working in Ooty. Teaching, to be precise.

When I agreed to this assignment months ago, it was based on the fact that December seemed far away, I had never been to Ooty before and teaching college students sounded like an easy task. But as the date got closer, I realized that - I was still swamped with other commitments, Ooty can be really cold in December and I had a huge part of the syllabus to cover in 2 days!

But I needed the change from the stressful routine of working from home and headed off to Coimbatore and then to the lovely hills-station of Ooty. It was a grey day when I arrived and then it rained the rest of the evening. I remember being cold, cold, cold, even after covering up with two thick blankets and a convection heater near my feet.

Eventually my body remembered the basics of staying warm and I had two great days with a bunch of highly enthusiastic students. The highlight was the first evening after class when I accompanied the students to the Botanical Garden area after sunset. We ate tender carrots and corn, spicy peanut chaat and Ooty's famous homemade chocolates. I was wise enough to buy some tea and mountain honey as souvenirs since there wasn't much time for sight-seeing with the tight academic schedule.

On my way back to Coimbatore, I stopped by the scenic point of Dolphin's Nose, about 10 km from Conoor. The car took sharp hair-pin bends as we approached the destination, the sun played hide-n-seek at each curve, sometime showing tantalizing views of St. Catherine's water falls and shielding the majestic slopes lush with tea
plantations the very next moment. The fog was so dense by the time we parked that it was hard enough to see your own nose, leave alone that of the famous "Dolphin". I stood there for a few minutes, hoping the fog would lift, not knowing when I would be here again. It cleared a little but then closed in again. It was disappointing to be denied what is every tourist's right - a beautiful view. I felt cheated.

I heard familiar voices and turned around to see that the students had come to the same spot. We laughed and caught up with each other. Took pictures, drank freshly brewed local cardamom-flavored tea. Instantly the mood was light, even though the fog stubbornly stayed put. We got back into our vehicles and agreed to meet in town for lunch.

It struck me then that the morning's events mirrored life. Just as a clear day can suddenly turn foggy, life sometimes unexpectedly brings dark moments; you are caught off-guard, sometimes overwhelmed by the turn of events. But if you truly introspect, you will find that in each situation there is something that is redeeming. An event, a person, an interaction that is memorable. Something that gets you through the bad patch. You need to remain stable but alert to the opportunities that this turn brings into your life.

Did I have a holiday in Ooty? You bet.

Doing well vs doing good

I met a good friend after a gap of almost 3 years. It was nice to catch up on all that had happened in the intervening years. Like good friendships, this one did not need to be constantly nurtured with regular phone calls or emails. We exchanged cryptic emails and highlights of important events without getting too sentimental. It was clear that we could get back on the same wavelength that had enabled us to become friends without too much trouble.

We talked about work, family, decision-making, handling the consequences of those decisions and other esoteric topics. We had both left our jobs and moved on, except for the fact that I had decided to chart my own course as an entrepreneur and avoided the regular route of another job.

As I summarized my feelings about where I was today, 3 years since the resignation, I realized that I felt exhilarated by all that had happened. There were highs and lows but overall I felt a great sense of accomplishment for having stood on my own. I now have my own apartment, I drive my car and I employ one person in my company, in addition to sustaining and caring for my family. My circle of friends is much larger than ever before and while I know a lot of people, a lot more people know me.

"Glad to see you doing well", said my friend.

The comment stems from the obvious observation that I appear self-sufficient and pleased. But as I drove back home, I understood that my pleasure at where I find myself today rises not from doing well, but doing good.

I have left behind a lot of negative beliefs, repressive circumstances, unnecessary guilt and other baggage. I try to be a good friend, a reliable consultant, a caring employer and a sensible teacher. I try to provide excellent service and expect to be compensated accordingly. I appreciate the flow of prosperity into my life without overtly getting attached to it.

While work keeps me busy, I try to stay calm. With peace, comes contentment.

And more chances to do good.

Older and/or wiser?

I was at a birthday party a few weeks ago. While the birthday girl was turning two, the audience had members ranging from 0 to 80. And in keeping with the times, the proud parents had organized an MC of sorts to keep things lively. One silly quiz where every right answer won a prize included this trick question "What is the only thing that only goes up and does not come down?" I thought real estate in Hyderabad was the right answer but turns out that the correct response was "age".

As you grow older by a year with each birthday, accumulate knowledge and gray hair, the question that you are faced with is "Are you wiser, now that you are older?" It is a difficult question to answer. Youth and maturity do not necessarily mean foolishness and wisdom, respectively. There is no miraculous "Eureka" moment when you become a gorgeous swan from the ugly duckling you thought you were. There is no halo around your head to signify enlightenment. Perhaps there is a gentle blunting of the rough edges, a more tolerant approach to the vagaries of everyday life, a greater appreciation what you have. There is no internal fount of wisdom even though there is a great tendency to lecture others (particularly your own kids). So what does all the experience of living really bring?

I have found that while I may not have "Eureka!" moments, I do have my "Aha!" moments. The primary difference among the two is that Archimedes eureka transformed the scientific world, my "Aha' moment is uniquely beneficial only to me. It means I have made a connection, understood something that previously was an enigma and as a result there is a transformation in my level of understanding. Not making sense? Let me give you an example.

In the first two years after Aparna's birth, I struggled with the issues of being a working mother. I never had enough time for all the things I wanted to do. So I would attend workshops about work-life balance, read books with titles like "Down-shifting", and lectures about how to manage everything. In one such program, I heard a woman say that the word "balance" as in work-life balance was a bad word because it signified giving up something. She said that whatever was worth doing required more from the individual, not less. It was a matter of priority.

At that time, the stance seemed too radical to me. It was all very well for her to say it, she seemed close to retirement age, not someone with a small baby and demanding job. I felt I was obligated to give up something, if only for my sanity. Balance was essential for my well-being. I disagreed with the woman. Totally.

But last weekend I found myself at Evening Hour, my neighborhood library's first anniversary event, at about 7.30 p.m. on a rainy Saturday night. I had spent the entire day traveling to and from a town 120 km outside of Hyderabad where I worked all day, sat in thick traffic in pouring rain, in order to show solidarity with the founder, Priyanka, who had also become a good friend in these 12 months. To say I was tired, would be an understatement. But I felt it was important to show up. So I did.

The room was crowded with almost 100 people, kids, young men and women, parents of all ages and two distinguished chief guests. I heard only one part of the interaction between the chief guests and the audience but it was an uplifting event. There was genuine discussion about how to bring about change in the world, how it is enough if we make an impact on only a small number of people, it is the power of compounding that can bring about a sea change. I stayed for about 30 minutes but the positive energy of that half hour still lingers with me days later.

Today, on my birthday, I had my "aha" moment as I realized that by choosing to go to Evening Hour that day, I had not given up on any item on my to-do list but I had prioritized this activity and perhaps saved some reserves of energy to participate. I came out refreshed and much more enriched by the experience. I now understand what that lady meant by not focusing on balance. Sometime we need to strive harder to get more out of life. It requires our effort and that makes all the difference. Eureka!

Settled?

The most common question I get asked these days is “Settled?”

Everyone seems to be genuinely interested to know whether I have settled into my new place, my very own apartment, a much-anticipated event that everyone in my circle knew about. Yes, I am living in the new place but feel far from settled.

It is exactly a month since we physically loaded the stuff into a truck and brought it over. In the weeks since that day, I have traveled to three cities, spoken professionally at multiple venues and opened more boxes than I care to count. I have found household help; someone to deliver the daily paper, milk and even drinking water. I am struggling with teething troubles that are unique to first-time occupants, doors that don’t close, faucets that don’t have water and sinks that drip incessantly. An army of people walks in each day, electricians, painters, carpenters, miscellaneous hangers-on, building manager, his assistant and his helper. Most leave behind a trail of dust in their wake.

Staying in a building that is only partially occupied makes for very noisy living. There is all kinds of carpentry work going on each floor, sometimes the elevator works, at other times the generator backup forgets to turn on. There is no broadband internet connection and no landline phone, but we have cable TV! I don’t know the location of the nearest tailor or doctor or bus route. There is so much about which I know so little.

But what makes all this bearable is one helpful neighbor who lives across the corridor. Their friendly granddaughter walks in fearlessly and engages us in conversation. Uncle and Aunty are eager to share local information. As each day goes by and darkness sets in earlier each evening, I see the number of lights in the balconies increase with every moving truck that unloads its contents. Men, women, kids, grandparents, entire families enter the brand new building, hoping to make a home in a tiny part of it. There is chatter, the shrill scream of excited children, the whoosh of bicycles, the ringtones of the mobiles, garlands on doorsteps, wind-chimes in windows, symbols of life.

Life is change and change signifies movement. Nothing represents life better than this constant shifting, adjusting, moving… Settled? Not really.

Building connections

I have been giving some thought to why we resist change so much. Moving homes and changing jobs are stressful periods, if not downright scary events in your life. But why?

When a job change is voluntary, something that you have initiated, there is the element of excitement at the novelty of what is ahead - new responsibilities, a new office, new title and perhaps new perks. But there is an element of skepticism about the new boss and office colleagues. These fears are related to people, the great unknown. Even when you can control other variables in your life, what you cannot predict is the people in your life. Work culture is predominantly dictated by the opinion of the boss and the attitude he brings to the office. We worry whether our personalities will match, how long will it take to feel part of the group, will it be fun?

Moving homes brings about another set of challenges altogether. How do I settle down in the new place? Where can I buy vegetables? Who will deliver the milk? the newspaper? Who are my neighbors - will they be cooperative or troublesome? Will the ambiance be to my taste? Most importantly - will I make friends? Leaving a familiar place means finding replacements for all the physical elements of the old location that made your life easy. I know the tailor, the istrywala, the cable guy and need to find new people to fulfill these requirements. But leaving also means saying goodbye to my friendly neighbors who shared tips and saplings, gave me a ride on a rainy day and kept my mail when I was away.

I think the joy of anticipating change is directly linked to the ability to make new connections, to find a common ground to interact with strangers, to link at an emotional level while providing physical support. I have already interacted with the family that lives across from my new apartment and the couple that lives one floor below. I hope to get to know many more once I move in. I am a little scared, but I also know one thing for sure.

I have been through other moves in my life and one characteristic of my personality has always helped me settle in my new place. My ability to reach out and build connections.

Looking forward to adding more.

Letting go

The theme of the week seems to be "letting go".

I am preparing to move into my own new apartment, probably in a week. It is an exciting (and expensive) time when I get to pick curtains, colors, cooking stove, fans, lights and paints. I am shuttling between my current and soon to be location, talking to movers, painters and carpenters. My trips to the ATM have reached a record number of visits for the first 10 days of the month. I am taking all this in my stride. But hardest of all is the task ahead of me - to consolidate my belongings to fit into my new abode.

I don't consider myself a pack rat - quite often I purge my closets and files and ruthlessly discard unwanted stuff. But all "stuff" is not equal and some are harder to throw away than others. I have shredded old phone and credit card bills, given away multiple bags of old clothes, plastic boxes and bottles from the kitchen, even an outgrown bicycle. I stop to read articles from old magazines or linger over a beloved toy that has seen better days. I see not only what is in front of me but the sentiment that made me hang on to this possession. It is heart-wrenching to drop it into the waste basket.

I am letting go on other fronts as well.

Aparna left for a trip to Delhi with her school team to participate in a national level competition organized by her school (one of the large academic school franchises). This opportunity came her way after being on the winning team in the regionals. This is her first trip out of town without a parent. She seemed thrilled and a little apprehensive, more about the competition that the journey itself. I dropped her at 6.30 a.m. at Secunderabad station and said goodbye along with the other Moms. We entrusted our precious kids to the cheerful teacher who had the task of bringing them back safely. I just got news that they are returning back with the runner-up trophy. I am so proud - not just about Aparna's achievement, but my own growth as a Mom as I loosen the strings bit by bit, and allow my child to soar.

The little kittens on my window sill are also being let go, for a few hours a day, by the Mommy cat. I notice that the kitties are now able to stand. The Mom is away for longer periods now. The kittens nestle cozily, their eyes tightly shut, as they try to keep warm on these rainy nights. Slowly they will start exploring their neighborhood, stepping out of their comfort zone, unaided and unwatched by the mother.

The territory may be different but we are all dancing to the same endless rhythm of the circle of life.

Team work

This is my favorite example that demonstrates teamwork.

Growing up in Mumbai, I would wait excitedly each year on Janmashthami day for the team of boys to come and attempt to manually reach the "dahi handi", strung up high, between two apartment buildings. It would be a nail-biting 30 minutes as the group observed the target, figure out the strategy, attempted, fell down in a heap and then tried again.

I learnt a lot in each attempt that that every eager team made. Trust between the team members, a sensible strategy, an inspiring leader ready to take risks, ably supported by a loyal team. Most importantly, they tried and tried again, until they succeeded.

Working together as a team brings so many rewards. Much more than what an individual can achieve.

Long live teamwork.

Joys of walking

When I started driving in India (after years of being terrorized by traffic), I worried more about parking than driving. With the proliferation of urban mega shopping havens which can accommodate multitudes of shoppers equal to the population of a small European country, with no laws requiring appropriate parking arrangements to be made by the owners, it is easier to keep moving than to find a comfortable spot to park. I would drive far from the crowded main roads into narrow streets and try to squeeze my car in cramped alleys. Now there is another menace – the not-so-friendly neighborhood parking attendant. It seems that the wise municipal corporation of Hyderabad has declared every inch of space under trees, in front of stores and besides banks, whether paved or not, as MCH parking spots. You have to cough up Rs.10 each time you come to a halt in these spaces, regardless of the amount of time that the vehicle is stationary. Other than placing young guys and girls with a blue or green apron worn over their street clothes with innocuous-looking books to issue receipts, MCH does not provide any other amenity for the parked vehicles, no safety, not even a smooth surface free of debris and stagnant water. While I don’t have a problem paying for parking, I would like to have something in return, a decently paved, marked spot with enough distance between the parked vehicles.

Before I got the nerve to drive, I used to walk to most errands that I needed to be done – ATM, Xerox place, stationery shop, bakery and chemist. I did cover my face to minimize inhalation of particulate matter, and sometimes stepped gingerly around open manholes and jumped over medium-sized potholes as I made my way. That took care of my daily walking quota. I thought it took longer to get multiple errands done since I had to physically move myself on my two feet to the next destination as opposed to hopping in the car and starting the ignition.

“Why no one walks” is a humorous piece in Bill Bryson’s “I am a stranger here myself”, a collection of his witty observations about life in the US, a new perspective after living in UK for two decades. Written in 1999, he notes that an average person in America walks barely 350 yards a day and uses a car for 93% of activities that have to be done outside the home. In a country like USA where the roads are smooth, the sidewalks neatly planned, walking paths clearly identified and the air relatively pollution-free, it is mind-boggling to come across people who drive a car to a gym that is 6-minute walking distance from their home in order to “work out”.

If we could transpose those lovely walking paths to India, I wonder how many of us would leave our cars at home and complete our local business on foot?

Nurturing

My bedroom window overlooks the mango tree in my backyard. Through the foliage I can see the red brick-colored tiles in my neighbor’s yard and hear the buzz of their air-conditioner. The window ledge is wide and is now the nesting place of a mommy cat. Sometime last week when I was enveloped in the haze of hospital visits and household responsibilities, the green-eyed cat has given birth. There are two golden brown kittens and a gold-speckled black one that nurse frequently and occasionally call faintly for their mother. They lie in a huddle sometimes, paw each other while trying to nurse and are small enough to still have their eyes closed. They are growing every day. Now they have fur on their legs, tiny spindles that were still pink last week. The mom is protective when she is around, her arm around one and tail around the other two as she holds them close to her body, spreading the warmth on these rainy days. I worry about the fact that the window ledge that she has chosen is on the first floor – a safe choice away from predators but certainly the elevation is a concern once the kitties start exploring. Where does she find food for herself? How does a feline mother feel while hunting for food, leaving behind the little ones? How does she prepare them to fend for themselves? So many questions.

The subject of nurturing is on my mind these days. Tending to young ones and old parents simultaneously is demanding. On top of that, I need to find the time to nurture my fledgling business. I wish there were more hours in a day but I mostly wish I had access to a fount of energy that I can tap into as needed. On many days I skip my morning yoga because the list of things to do is coming out of my ears as soon as I wake up. Invariably I find myself in a mid-day slump. Sometimes I have to nap (power nap, of course) or take a break. Just as the mind needs a change, the body needs a break. On the days that I squeeze in at least a few suryanamaskars, I find myself doing much better. I am able to handle the planned and unplanned activities without missing a step. Giving myself the gift of an hour first thing in the morning makes me a more giving person all day.

I know that I need to nurture myself in order to pass it on to others who may need it from me. But prioritizing self-nurturing needs practice. I need to move myself to the top of my list. Let me do that now.

Becoming an entrepreneur

When I left my job, I set out to be an independent consultant. I wanted to be alone, charting the unfamiliar waters, adrift outside the familiar corporate world that I had inhabited for over 12 years after my education. I wanted to get out of the rat race which I felt I was unqualified to participate in. I felt like a tortoise, on a treadmill made for rats. The 3 Ps (position, power and pay) which play an important part in career decisions of men were not of significance to me - position and power play did not excite me, the titles seemed hollow and the satisfaction nil. The pay I knew I could manage even without a stable salary.

For two years, I called myself a consultant. But occasionally, someone would introduce me in a public forum as an entrepreneur. In my definition, an entrepreneur is one who creates jobs. I had created one for myself – surely that did not count for an entrepreneur, did it? So I looked up the definition.

The Merriam Webster defines entrepreneur as one who organizes, manages and assumes the risk of business while the Cambridge dictionary defines entrepreneur as one who starts their own business, especially when this involves seeing a new opportunity.
There was nothing overt in the definition that mentioned “job creation”. The criteria really were about taking up the risk of starting a business in response to identifying a new opportunity. It is the founder, the one with vision who gets labeled as entrepreneur. And it logically follows that as the idea evolves, there is creation of opportunity for others.

What I have done recently is to continue being a consultant but have refined my vision to include other professional services in the pharma domain which has led me to hire my first employee. I am sticking more than my neck out to offer a service in a niche area where I see a definite need. I have found the perfect fit in my “employee number 1”. Now I truly feel like an entrepreneur.

The impetus for growth came from two conversations in the last couple of months; one from an entrepreneur himself and the other from a wannabe entrepreneur. The latter freely admitted that he lacked the guts to leave a stable job. Both gave me similar advice that struck a chord at a time when I had been personally soul-searching about “What now?”

Sometimes the perfect advice comes from an unlikely source, although I quite agree with a quote that says “Advice is what you seek when you already know the answer”.
I knew that my answer to “what now?” lay in growth. I have taken the first step by expanding my workforce and service offerings. I am waiting now for “what next?”

Removing blocks

Why is it so hard to get things moving sometimes? You try your best but things don’t budge. And usually it happens in a sequence. Or in bunches. Let me explain.

Last week was one such week where I seemed to be battling people/businesses/clients who could be classified under the letter “B”. First there was the Bank (one of India’s biggest) who takes pride in moving things slowly. Procedure becomes paramount as people cover up inefficiencies, both personal and in the system. The plus point – they are now trained to be polite while they go about their business at a geriatric pace.

The other enemy was the Builder, who would not let m have the keys to my apartment, insisting that the Bank pay him the last loan installment. I offered him a cheque for the same amount hoping to get a head start on getting my kitchen done up. But between the two “B”s, I was stuck.

Then there was a client whose name starts with “B” who continued to harass me. We have been dancing around the terms of a consulting agreement for months and just when I sent him a “final” proposal, he revised the terms again. At my wit’s end, I insisted that this was it and I could not negotiate any further. Finally he relented.
While I was battling the Bs, my father came down with a bigger B. A heart attack. How is that a B? Well the cause of the attack was the “big Block” in his heart. Fortunately the correct treatment was given in time and he is back home now. Think about 3 days in an ICU, in a Big corporate hospital in Hyderabad, without insurance. What we kids had to cough up was a “Big Bill”.

With all this drama, I sincerely hope I am out of the bad bout with Bs. With the block in the heart cleared up, I hope the flow of all good things towards me will begin.

Indirect profits

Earlier this month, an article in the Economic Times talked about direct and indirect approach to problem solving. The author mentions a book by John Kay, “Obliquity: How our goals are best pursued indirectly.” The book, he says, is about tangential achievement of goals and indirect solving of problems. There is data to support the premise that “the most profitable companies do not sport direct profit-orientation. They simply do the right things and end up being nicely profitable”.

The article goes on to talk about other things but the key message for me was the validation of my personal opinion that if we do the right things (without major blundering along the way), do good work and have clarity in the values (of the person or organization), the work should pay well.

When I left my comfortable job, I knew myself, I knew the market reasonably well and thought that I could fill a need with my unique blend of experience. I did not have an earnings target for myself. I worked on projects that came my way, met people, deliberated on ideas either alone or with friends. Most importantly, I acted. I took up work, did it sincerely and enjoyed what I did. At the end of the first year, I found that I had earned a decent living.

Now in my third year of working independently, I am able to fine tune my vision for future growth. Perhaps I am naïve and lack an MBA, but I am sure I can grow a profitable company if I continue to focus to identifying needs and working towards providing high quality services. My company may not become a giant corporation but certainly will do well, towards its employees, towards its customers and fill a niche. It will have good reputation in the market, it will make a difference. What we will earn will be fair compensation for the value we bring but more importantly, we will earn goodwill.

That will be the bottomline.

Wish me luck.

Ray of hope

I visited my friend who was in Hyderabad at her parents’ home this weekend. Her sister has taken the bold step of adopting a baby girl, as a single parent. Bringing up a child requires a village (also the title of a book written by Hilary Clinton) and this little girl is indeed showered with love and attention of doting aunts, uncles and not to forget, devoted grandparents. The room was full of toys and gifts that others had brought for the child’s first birthday the month before. As with any toddler, the baby crawled around fearlessly, merrily claiming the praise of family members and visitors. I was happy to see this child in a loving environment and look forward to watching her grow into a productive citizen and a loving human being one day.

As I drove back home, I passed a prominent restaurant in my neighborhood decorated with balloons and bearing a prominent sign “Laasya’s first birthday party” along with a large print of the little girl. Cars were lining up already. Around the corner is the neighborhood community hall used for religious ceremonies as well as social events. Amidst colorful streamers, another large sign informed me of “Mahi’s first birthday party” with a grinning baby girl’s picture on it. I have been disheartened so often to see girls being treated unfairly when it came to opportunities, the treatment arising solely from a bias towards their gender. But finding these proclamations of celebrations, announcing the completion of the first critical year of their daughter’s life, is a welcome sign.

Sugar n spice and everything nice – girls are special, as are boys. While we give kids our unconditional love, we unknowingly pass on ingrained prejudices as well. Gender definitions and roles, prescribed behaviors, preferred choices – these are unspoken forms of communication that kids pick up on, based on our own actions as we tread the beaten path of societal norms.

Seeing public celebration of a female’s child’s birth is the first step as we move to equally rejoicing in new life, irrespective of gender. But that is just the beginning. What we need to do individually as parents and collectively in society, is not just provide a chance for girls to explore their potential in the early years but enable them to achieve their full potential as they grow into mature adults. Becoming aware of the restraints that society unknowingly puts on them puts a major burden on their shoulders as they try to come to terms with the freedoms of younger days with the recipe of future life that is presented to them. I know of educated parents of a son and daughter, both of whom have been educated in private engineering colleges. While the son is free to pursue either higher education or an international job, the daughter is expected to marry the “chosen” guy shortly after she graduates. Her future depends on her future husband.

As all these thoughts crossed my mind, I realized that I was unknowingly voicing the prejudices I had felt growing up. Things are different now, at least for the little ones, who are enjoy much more access to material comforts and choices as they grow. I only hope that they will continue to have as many choices in their adulthood and the maturity to choose wisely.
Happy Birthday, Girls!

Independence Day 2010

The school circular informed that parents to take their seats at 8.15 a.m. on 15th August 2010. The invitation was extended to parents of children who had distinguished themselves academically the previous school year and were being honored with “scholar badges’ for the achievement. I parked in the swampy parking lot, still mushy from the heavy night rain, and gingerly made my way to the school compound where the seating arrangements had been made. I was welcomed with enthusiastic waving from one section of the children and found Aparna’s friends giggling and waving happily.

As is customary, we waited for the chief guest, the boredom punctuated by sounds of tricolor balloons going “bust” at regular intervals, followed by nervous laughter from the kids. Finally the dignitaries arrived, were introduced and welcomed with bouquets. Surprisingly, the chief guest was a prominent woman from the media, who was disabled and moved around in a wheelchair. The invited guests moved towards the flag pole and hoisted the flag. As they were showered with petals, the national anthem played in the background. Kids stood with their hands saluting the flag, seriously contemplating the notion of freedom in a nation celebrating 64 years of independence. In a few minutes, the somber moment passed. Chairs scraped against concrete as the audience settled back into viewing positions.

I marveled at the power of a simple ceremony to invoke feelings of patriotism. It had been years since I had taken the trouble to witness a flag-hoisting event. Having lived abroad for many years, I felt very much Indian but did not feel the need for a community event to make me aware of my nationality. I respected Independence Day celebrations of all countries, a fight for nationhood as a legitimate cause for unity. We take freedom for granted, and seldom stop to appreciate the benefits that it offers us. We assume we can complain about what is not well, a privilege inherent in the democratic form of government that we practice; however flawed the system may be today.

It is necessary for children to come together to salute the nation on the days that hold significance. But it is imperative that adults come together to make these ceremonies more meaningful by their participation.

Shown above are some of the creations of school children participating in a competition titled "Tirangaa"on 15 August 2010.

In a strange place

Unexpectedly, I found myself in a strange place.

I was in a car, on my way to visit a company located outside the city. We left early, to avoid the city traffic and eased into the one-lane highway after a while. I dozed off, tired from the previous day’s work. When I opened my eyes, I saw a field of green – lush countryside, soaked from the recent rains, sprouting young shoots, grass blades, still tingling green from the new growth. Trees occasionally dotted the field of vision. There weren’t any of the majestic brown rocks that are more commonplace in the outskirts of Hyderabad. There were no buildings as far as the eye could see. Trucks whizzed by along with bullock carts and tractors. No honking, no traffic jams. A herd of buffaloes slowed our journey for a few minutes as they silently deliberated among themselves while standing in the middle of the busy highway. Goats seemed content, munching grass and bushes – what a relief to see the animals eating natural food, not human garbage as is common around dumpsters in the city. About a dozen camels suddenly came into view, eagerly chomping down on tree branches higher than their tall heads, happy to find greenery at their level. Our daily concrete landscape is so much part of our life that we seldom stop to appreciate the wonder of things that are not man-made.

When we arrived at the destination, an even stranger experience awaited. It was a site with no women employees, except for housekeeping staff. It was a manufacturing environment, in a location not favoring local scientific talent. Most male staff either lived with roommates in the small town or commuted to Hyderabad to be with their families on weekends. I realized that I was not as concerned about me being the only woman who was not housekeeping staff, but more surprised that it was still possible to find workplaces bereft of women. I think we have made considerable progress if our general perception is one which assumes a gender-inclusive workplace.

Survival of the smoothest

Last month, I was invited to be a judge for a competition – nothing on the scale of Indian Idol or any of the grueling dance competitions on TV for which I don’t have the stomach to even be an observer, leave alone a judge. But it was a competition among post-graduate college students and at stake was a chance to travel abroad, in this to a much sought after European destination, for the international level competition. This was the second year for this event and I had been a judge last year as well. I knew what to expect in terms of the process but did not expect to learn what I did.

So here we had 6 groups of 6-7 students each, all given the same problem, resources and time, to arrive at a solution that was to be presented to the judges and fellow competitors. The job of the seven member panel of judges was not just to pick the winning team, but to pick 2 individuals who would then represent India in the global competition. We had an afternoon in which to watch, an hour to ask questions of the contestants and 20 minutes to reach consensus (we had a tight timeline due to the FIFA match where Germany ended up scoring a big win)!

Well, we did the best we could and objectively arrived at the winners. But what I learned in the process was the importance of communication skills. For the second year, I found myself veering towards those kids who spoke well, the ones who were able to get their ideas across. I am sure there were many with superior reasoning ability and intellect but what use were those thoughts, locked up in brilliant minds, if they were not made accessible to others? In general, the students pursuing MBA’s fared better in this category. Being of the firm opinion that a business administration education is not necessary to be successful in life, I eagerly looked for candidates pursuing post-graduate studies in science, law or other fields. But unanimously, the MBA’s did better.

In all honesty, I think people who pursue science education think of themselves as being on a higher level, compared to students of other streams. We think logically, focus on data and arrange them in order to draw valid conclusions –that is why we are scientists! Then why do we not do well in front of an audience?

Does better communication ability come from having pursued a different stream of education? Is it necessary for all science graduate needs to add a business degree to do well? No, but they certainly need to start acquiring presentation skills, communication abilities and be comfortable interacting with others. Being cooped up in a lab, wearing a lab coat and watching equipment does not translate into visibility. It is as important to explain to a lay person what exactly you do as it is to impress your thesis committee on the intricacies of your dissertation. Until we as scientists are unable to walk both paths with ease, the once with the gift of the gab will always walk away with the accolades.

Inspired Action

It seems really hot these days. I know that the hot summer days are long gone and the pleasant monsoon season is upon us in Hyderabad. As everyone around me reminded me that May 2010 was one of the hottest summers recorded in the last 20 years, I was glad to have escaped and enjoyed a relaxing American holiday. But now the holidays are distant blurs on the short-term horizon that is dotted with deadlines and deliverables, tasks and projects.

Work is getting hectic as I tackle the pending projects and respond to new ones that have sprung out of nowhere. Struggling with a strategy to go with the vision that I have created for the company involves growth on many fronts. I am finally willing to think of a bigger canvas for my company that involves openness to hiring the necessary resources.

Home will be moving soon and there are a hundred decisions to make right from kitchens to curtains, mirrors to geysers and all the rest. The common theme amongst all this in addition to expansion, is the need for finances.
And what a heady combination all this makes – I have jumped onto a hotplate after the relaxing vacation and all I can do is try to balance on tiptoes, trying to get everything done, all at once, without falling flat. It is so exciting, I can hardly sleep at night, my mind is buzzing with ideas, action items and to-do lists. I love it.

A lot of latent dreams seem to be taking concrete shape, in a complementary manner, moving towards the destined goal. My actions, though necessary, seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. There is an energy above and around me that seems to be churning up a whirlwind of motion. Is this what is called inspired action?

Capital City - Day 2

The difference between visiting a city that is new to you and revisiting a place where you once lived, is in knowing those quaint places that are off the beaten track. One of the best sights in DC (for those who are scientifically inclined) is the Albert Einstein statue that sits on the grounds of the National Academy of Sciences, a stone’s throw from the Lincoln Memorial, at the intersection of Constitution Avenue and 22nd Street. The bronzed statue of Einstein in a sitting position looms 21 feet tall. It was installed on the birth centenary of Einstein and a brief description of his accomplishments is listed alongside. I wanted to show Aparna my fondness for this understated celebration of a great man who differs from all the other political statesmen who have been immortalized in this most political of all places in America. So we dutifully took pictures of the renowned scientist and sat for a while observing the two naughty boys who climbed up the statue, chasing each other, exploring the uninhibitedly.

The short walk to the White House was uneventful and we had a good view from the Ellipse, the side facing the Washington Monument. But as we walked by the Washington Hotel to approach 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue (the most famous address in the US, that of the White House), we were caught in an unexpected downpour. The DC area is notorious for its rapid changes in weather leading to sudden deluges in the summer months. We took shelter under a small tree and the shower retreated as quickly as it had appeared. Tourists thronged the front gates, getting a good view of the graceful columns and manicured lawns. We took the mandatory picture in front of the black metal fence contrasting against the milky expanse of the eponymous house behind it. The White House has been the official residence-cum-office of the US President for as long as anyone cares to remember.

Our next stop was the home another prominent piece of history, a rock, to be precise – the Hope Diamond. The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History contains many interesting displays but none as famous as the 45+ carat rare blue diamond, named “Hope” Diamond. The origin of the diamond is in India and it started its life as a 67 carat brilliant piece of carbon which then made its way across the world. It was bequeathed to the Smithsonian Institution and now lies, splendidly displayed in a secure glass case which rotates to give you a 360 degree view of its magnificence, stopping long enough for you to take a picture.

While I have listed all the places we visited, there is still so much that was left unexplored – a tour of the US Capitol, watching dollar bills being printed at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, looking at pictures of Americas Most Wanted criminals at the FBI, getting a glimpse of the horrors of the holocaust at the Holocaust Museum, watching a performance at the Kennedy Center. There are seasonal attractions in DC that are worth mentioning – the Cherry Blossom parade every spring when the cherry trees around the Tidal Basin bloom in unison, the brilliant colors of fall in October, the national Christmas tree in the White House lawns, with little trees for each state of the Union on a cool December evening.

In general, I feel that cities generally tend to look alike. But capital cities everywhere in the world have a character that is unique, Washington DC is no exception. What made this visit special for me was my connection to this particular capital city. The heap of memories linked to every place here, whether or not of tourist interest overflowed as we created more.

Cheers to Washington DC!

Capital City - Day 1

Washington DC is not a city, it is a district, District of Columbia, and along with the 50 other states that united to form the USA, is the seat of power of the American democracy. Our last halt on this long holiday was DC. I had to speak at a conference here, so these ten days constituted the “work” part of the trip. We had a weekend to explore this historic city which I knew thoroughly – I had lived in the DC metropolitan area for the first 7 years of the fourteen years that I had lived in the US.

Like any wise tourist, we got off the orange line metro at Smithsonian station, the central point on the famous national mall. The rectangular section of real estate that lies between the US capitol on one side and the elegant obelisk of the Washington Monument houses the museums that form part of the Smithsonian Institution. The red building of the Smithsonian Castle provides information regarding the magnanimous donor, Englishman James Smithson, who donated his estate to America for establishment of an institution for increase and diffusion of knowledge in Washington DC. The notable aspect of this generous donation was that Smithson himself had never stepped into America!

In pursuit of this lofty goal and from subsequent donations of other philanthropists, the Smithsonian Museums line the national mall which is borderd by Independence Avenue and Constitution Avenue on either side of the walk from Capitol to the Monument. There is no entry fee for any museum and there is a museum for all types – for art aficionados, science buffs, natural history lovers and curious people of all ages. We chose to visit the Natural History museum and admired its most famous possession, the Hope Diamond. The Sackler Gallery of Asian Art had an amazing collection of artefacts from Cambodia on display. The Air and Space Museum where I had seen many of the then new IMAX releases also houses “Kittyhawk”, the first airplane flown by the Wright Brothers.

It was a hot Saturday as we walked to base of the Washington Monument, standing like a slender watchman, the tallest building in the district at 555 feet. On one side marked the Capitol while the austere façade of the Lincoln Memorial looked humbly past the reflecting pool. The White House and the Jefferson Memorial could be clearly seen from the green mound which houses the entrance to the viewing gallery at the top of the monument. There was a time when you could stand in line and ride up the elevator for an aerial view but now advance reservations are required to ascend the tower, the next available tickets were for 9 July!

Lincoln Memorial continues to be my favorite tourist spot in DC; there is a sincerity in the hallowed hall where President Lincoln sits majestically, with his finest speeches including the Gettysburg address, inscribed in the marble walls. The reflecting pool faithfully reproduced the slim lines of the monument, blurred occasionally by ducks looking to cool off in the midday sun. We walked by the Potomac River that marks the boundary between the state of Virginia on the south and crossed towards the Tidal Basin where the picturesque Jefferson Memorial is located. We passed the sightseeing tourmobiles which dropped off tourists are various spots and plied in a continuous loop. The green lawns were dotted with teams practicing various sports including a Hindi-speaking cricket team. We stopped frequently to munch on peanuts or crackers, sip water and give our tired legs a break. The gently curved dome of Jefferson Memorial marks the centerpiece of the circular path lined with graceful cherry trees, a gift from Japan many years before the world wars. We sat on the shaded lawns and got a good view of paddle boats in the blue waters of the basin, too tired to walk around the water. We found out later that the memorial was closed for repairs.

Trying to retrace our path guided by the triangular apex of the monument, we wandered into the Roosevelt Memorial, a new addition to the multiple monuments dedicated to past presidents. Aparna loved the metal statue of President Roosevelt seated informally on a low chair, with his dog sitting by his feet. Quotes engraved in stone facades, flowing waterfalls provided welcome relief from the heat in this open structure. A standing figure of the diminutive Eleanor Roosevelt reminded me of one of her quotes which I try to live by “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.”

Baltimore - Back to Alma Mater

The cab dropped us off at a familiar address in Baltimore, 20 N. Pine Street. The building looked bigger and more imposing than ever before. The prominent sign “School of Pharmacy” was not visible but a modest "20" on the entrance indicated the steps that I had climbed every day, for the half decade that I pursued my Ph.D. Aparna and I entered the lobby where a diligent security guard took us through the prescribed process before letting us into the building.

Richard, the only professor still at the school had kindly agreed to meet us and show us the place. His office was the corner office on the sixth floor, the same room which the head of the department had occupied almost 20 years ago when I had stuck my face around the door to enquire about the admission process, in my salwar kameez and bindi. We caught up on old times and I was happy to show my lab and desk, as proof to Aparna, of my claim on this place, my Alma Mater. Much had changed, including the department structure, the curriculum and teaching methodology but some things were the same. The heavy plain wooden doors which we had decorated one Christmas, for a friendly inter-departmen “door-decorating contest”, the simple wall-mounted black phone, the bright yellow cabinets for solvents and the lab coats hanging on the wall. The lunch room which had housed an ancient microwave had been converted to offices, but had previously served as a meeting place for students, some American, some Chinese and many Indians. I had colored a paper drawing of a turkey for Thanksgiving and won second prize one year. Another year, I had binged on the different cakes baked for a Valentine’s Day Bake-off contest which was rigged and won by the kind head of the department, Dr. Shangraw. Today there is a sign honoring his contributions and an endowed chair named in his memory. What a wonderful family he had created for all of us students, so far from home but welcomed with open arms for having one characteristic, a desire to learn.

We walked out into the warm summer sunshine on familiar streets, past the historic dental school, the veterans hospital and the renovated medical hospital. The small park which hosted live musicians at lunchtime in the summer weeks still managed to hold its own amongst the concrete jungle of downtown Baltimore. The old library location was now a parking lot and the new one stood across the road, five floors of well-lit bookshelves, wired, provide with private cubicles for quiet study and an extensive online journal collection. What had been missing on this campus then was a place for students to have some fun. The brand new student center had taken care of this lack by and now housed exercise equipment and a large swimming pool.

Lunch choices in the café included not just vegetarian but vegan choices as well. We rewarded ourselves with delicious coffee cake before heading off for a few hours of sightseeing at the famous Balitmore Inner harbor. It was a day with clear skies, pleasant enough to walk but warm enough to appreciate the cool breeze that tousled our hair on the water taxi ride to Fort McHenry. The star-shaped fort is considered to be the birthplace of the US national anthem, Star-Spangled Banner, written by Francis Scott Key. Federal Hill looks down proudly on the inner harbor with the flag waving majestically. Fell’s Point is another well-known spot, pictured in the popular movie “Sleepless in Seattle” where we stopped for a few pictures.

We shared a Ben n Jerry’s “Imagine Whirled Peace” ice-cream sundae and watched groups of school kids dressed in identical t-shirts on a field trip to the Balitmore aquarium. An old gentleman was belting out soulful jazz in the amphitheater. We walked back to the MARC commuter train station located adjacent to the Camden Yards baseball stadium, home of the local team, Orioles. Street vendors sold tees with Orioles and Mets (NYteam), hotdogs and burgers, ice cold water and sodas. The mood was cheerful and contagious as we boarded the southbound train back to Greenbelt, where we were staying with friends.

June recap - Week in Dallas

The last few weeks have become a blur, like the bright red balloon that was once in your hand, so close to your face, but shrinks into a tiny dot on the horizon once you let it go. So have the first three weeks of June, flown away to merge with the countless days before it although each day was distinct and fun.

Short story – we spent a week in Dallas after bidding farewell to our cool, mellow Seattle days. The brilliant hot sunshine slammed down hard on us as we stepped out of the airport, forcing us to peel off our well-worn jackets. It felt….. just like….. Hyderabad! Yippee! But we still had two weeks before boarding British Airways back to Shamshabad. So Dallas weather gave us a little preview of hot days, flat expanses of cornfield as far as the eye could see and a severe inclination to stay indoors.

Dallas is famous for not having any sights worth seeing. As a former colleague questioned when she heard that we were heading back via Dallas “Have you been to Dallas before? No? That’s why you don’t seem to know that there is nothing to see.” Yes, Dallas is the city where the charismatic president John F. Kennedy was assassinated, an event that is marked by a plain brownstone building (this is hearsay, our friend Paresh refused to take us there but instead showed us a similar ordinary building and asked us to assume it was “the memorial”).

We stayed with our ever-smiling and gracious hosts, Priya and Paresh in Plano, Texas. I can honestly claim that I visited Plano (not Dallas) since it took us a week to go through Plano’s central attraction – unending shopping malls. Did I mention “air-conditioned” shopping malls? Aparna was in holiday heaven. Fortunately summer holidays had begun so the kids, Pooja and Vikram were home. Our memories of the curly-haired naughty Vikki-tikki-aloo-tikki (nickname coined by the then 5-year old Aparna) toddler from seven years ago took a beating when we saw the strapping Vikram with his trademark impish smile, flying around on crutches, obviously mastered quickly after a recent fracture in his toe.

We met two other families who had been neighbors in California, all the cute chubby kids were now skinny teenagers oozing attitude. We spent time at an indoor pool on Sunday, had dinner with Ritu and family (Sridhar, Kartik and Malvika) one night, dinner with Krithika and family (Raj, Aditi, Saatvi and the visiting grandparents), browsed bookstores, shoe stores, department stores (you get the general idea). Aparna found a supporter in her demand to get her ears pierced (she already has her earlobes pierced, she wanted a second one). So Pooja and Aparna ended up with additional studs one evening.

Overall, Plano was a place where we totally relaxed, talked, laughed, hung out by the pool in the backyard and basically, chilled (or tried to stay cool in the blistering heat). And soon it was time for us to head to Washington DC (the country’s capital). Stay tuned.

Fiery Art

Art can be classified into two forms – visual art such as paintings and sculptures; and performing arts like music, dance and theater. This is what I knew from my limited exposure to the fine arts. But in the Pacific Northwest state of Washington, flourishes a different kind of art. Blown glass sculptures – colorful, sensuous, brilliant pieces of flaming glass, created by local artists. There are art studios and workshops, glass blowing classes and galleries and even a Museum of Glass in the city of Tacoma, Washington. We decided to take a detour through the giant cone-shaped structure that marks the museum on our way to Portland, Oregon, for the long Memorial Day weekend that falls on the last Monday of May.

We were asked to first enter the “Hot Shop” after purchasing the tickets. The giant cone is actually the “hot shop”, the largest glass blowing amphitheater which is continuously in use. The permanent team works with visiting artists who spend various periods of time working with the medium. From colorful swirls in bowls and vases, to chunky paperweights and dishes, display pieces and funky unusual objects, the collection is mind-boggling. Observing the steps taken to make one perfect piece of visual art is a performance in itself. Hot ovens line one side of the studio. Guys and girls wearing loose t-shirts and protective eyeglasses walk around with long metal rods on which molten glass balls/bulbs are painstakingly heated, the rod is continuously twirled, coaxed into the desired shape, dipped into colored pigments, heated, twirled, shaped and the cycle goes on. A piece that will be part of the larger object in mind takes hours to complete. The artists move about gracefully and gently around each other, the hot ovens, trolleys and trays that seem scattered carelessly. The propane torches capable of reaching upto 5000 degrees F are within reach of the artists and their assistants, to fine tune their creations when the molten glass is brought out of the ovens. Similar to the nimble fingers of a surgeon who must operate quickly and accurately, the artist has a few seconds to give the pliable glass the desired curvature before it starts cooling into an impassive mineral. Like a fast paced dance number, the artists must work with and around each other to bring the choreography to life, without colliding or coalescing nascent piece of art into an unrecognizable mass. What a treat to see visual art created in such a precise performance!

The current exhibit features the work of Preston Singletary, a prolific glass artist with an American Indian heritage who has brought many Indian legends to the limelight through his pieces including “Raven Steals the Sun”. The endearing collection was the production of several pieces which were designed by children, most of them under the age of 12. From the colorful sketches of children, contributed every month, one was selected to be translated into glass sculpture. As expected, children made colorful drawings of monsters and creatures not from books or TV, but characters arising from their imaginations. So we had a fascinating display of “Green Guy”, “Jolt”, “Fire Bird”, “Nature Deit (deity)” and many others.

Tacoma’s local artist Dale Chihuly dominates the outdoor displays with a bridge dedicated to him. On either side of the walkway are large (I mean two floors tall) display cases with his dazzling work. At one point when you feel there is nothing more but to turn around, you just need to glance up to be dazzled by the magnificence of hundreds of colorful shimmering glass objects. I was reminded of the acrylic tunnels in some aquariums where the fish are above your head. Like jellyfish and tropical marine life, you see nature’s colors duplicated in glass, suspended overhead.

I was gifted a lovely piece by my sister-in-law as a souvenir of our visit to the breathtaking natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest state of Washington, an area where the sun shines for less than 100 days a year but creativity flourishes in glorious colors all year round.

Time to move on - Day 7

For most people, taking a vacation means leaving home turf and the associated work/chores/monotony and visiting an exotic location with a hectic daily timetable of things to do. I have always felt that the act of being on holiday, which implies a state of leisure is totally contradictory to the goal-oriented touristy approach that we take when we are in a new place, armed with cameras and water bottles. An easy solution would be to take a break and visit a known place, a location where the sights are not exactly new but familiar and welcoming, with no rush to be everywhere at the same time. Our San Francisco trip fell into this category. We had lived here before, the major tourist attractions still needed to be seen but there was no long to-do list. In theory, it was the perfect holiday getaway. In practice, it was another story altogether.

We did check off the most essential tourist activities including
• Golden Gate Bridge
• Lombard Street
• Fisherman’s Wharf
• Cable Car Ride
• Museum (California Academy of Sciences)
• Aquarium (Monterey Bay)

What I had on the list in addition, were multiple business meetings including dinner with my past colleagues at an Indian restaurant and visits to the homes of friends who still lived in the area. I also wanted Aparna to try some new activities and she attempted bowling and tock climbing with different degrees of success.

While it feels like a lot was accomplished, if you look at it from the perspective of a tourist who had seven days to spend in the Bay area, there was so much more we could have done – Half Moon Bay, Point Reyes lighthouse, Sausalito, Angel Island, Alcatraz, Berkeley and Carmel… the list is endless. The San Francisco bay area is truly one of most scenic places to visit and like a gourmet meal which is delicious; it always leaves you wishing for more. There will always be more meals in the future. The way to hold on to an experience is by savoring each tasty morsel as it rests on your tongue, not focusing on the previous such meal or anticipating the next one. At many times during this week, I had that feeling. Moments which were complete, discrete pieces of happiness, not yet falling like jigsaw pieces into the complete canvas of my life, but each holding the promise of more, if I would learn to find them. I know the moment we reached the top of Crooked Street after climbing up 3 steep blocks from Van Ness; and the instant before taking a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge in all its glory, framed by the generous clear skies untouched by the notorious fog. Perhaps it was in the few minutes we waited for the Hyde-Powell cable car as it was manually reversed, taking bites from the decadent Ghirardelli brownie ice cream sundae when I felt light as a dandelion blown free from its stem. I was suspended in mid-air, free from the burdens of past unhappiness that had lurked in the corners of my memories of this beautiful place where I had been fortunate to live. My fortune lay in my experience of both the natural beauty on display round the year and in the contrast provided by the dark days I had seen, illuminated occasionally by the bright spots that had been my life here for over 6 years.

In the final analysis, it was a great vacation. I had ventured out into the known. I came back; not quite whole, but a little more complete. Sometimes we fear what we know, more than what we don’t.