Role reversal

"Let me see what you are planning to wear to school", she said. "Make sure you are not late," she continued. Finally with an admonishment to "be good", Aparna left to board the school bus. I was supposed to leave a few minutes later to reach her school. A teacher had called two days earlier to request me to be a judge at a debate competition in the school. I agreed. All weekend Aparna alternated between excitement at the prospect and worry at any potential embarrassment caused by my presence at her school.

I had been invited twice previously. Unfortunately I had declined both times due to work conflicts. Aparna was convinced I would never again be invited. That explained the extreme thrill at the impending visit to her school. It was interesting to see the role reversal as she became the mother, echoing words that I have said to her many times before. "Don't be late. Be safe (implying, be sensible). Be good."

The seventh and eighth grade students spoke eloquently on the topic of child labor, making their points clearly and confidently. I was asked to say a few words and then announce the winners. I did my part and stepped out, escorted by a couple of teachers. I saw her then. Peeping into the room to see what I was upto. We exchanged a few words and I left.

Later she confessed that she was "proud" of me. A friend asked her "Why did they ask your Mom?". "Because she is awesome", Aparna replied. "And why is she awesome?" came the prompt response. "Because she is MY mother." With these words, Aparna made my day. Just as a few words of praise go a long way to raise a child's esteem, the same applies in reverse order as well. Motherhood is a long haul job with few opportunities for positive feedback. Today was such a day. By her words, Aparna acknowledged my role in her life; not by my "awesomeness" but by her confidence in her own sense of self.

Touch

There is no doubt that we have five senses (perhaps a sixth one as well for some). Different ways to experience the world we live in. Sight, smell, hearing, taste and feel. My comprehension of my world begins primarily with my eyes. I listen so I may speak appropriate words. I inhale the scent of the air around me. I appreciate the flavor of food. And I touch, so I may feel.

Somewhere along the way, I thought the senses were mutually exclusive for the most part. I know people who can't see but can hear. I know hearing impaired people with an acute olfactory sense. Of course there is an exception with food. I read somewhere that when we eat, we first eat with our eyes, then take in the aroma, hear the sizzle of hot food and then feel the texture in our mouth before we get to the taste. Pretty complex stuff huh?

What I did not know until recently was that we can also use one sense to understand something typically associated with another sense. Confused?

Read the following lines of beautiful poetry by Javed Akhtar, featured in the movie Zindagi Na Milege Dobara

Jab jab dard ka baadal chaya
Jab ghum ka saya lehraya
Jab aansoo palkon tak aya
Jab yeh tanha dil ghabraya

Humne dil ko yeh samjhaya
…Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai
Duniya mein yunhi hota hai

Yeh jo gehre sannate hain
Waqt ne sabko hi baante hain
Thoda ghum hai sabka qissa
Thodi dhoop hai sabka hissa
Aankh teri bekaar hi nam hai
Har pal ek naya mausam hai
Kyun tu aise pal khota hai
Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai

I felt a pang when I read it. I was using my eyes but hearing the words in my head. But I was left with the feeling that something had touched me, the predominant emotion was of "touch" - not sight, not hearing. Strange I thought.

Then I came across a wonderful collection of Sufi songs. Some were songs that I had seen in movies. But there was one from an album. I played the CD on my laptop and went to the kitchen to fix dinner. As the notes tumbled out, I actually felt a powerful force drawing me back to the laptop from where the speakers were doing a great job of amplifying the music. I could hear it from the kitchen, but the power pulling me was not for audible clarity, it was a power telling me to stop doing anything else, compelling me to halt, and just be. Not comprehend, not memorize, not repeat. Just be. The words eluded me but the tune stayed. The tug at my heart (not brain) came from not just the poignancy of the voice but from a deeper connection with the melody. I was touched.

I am amazed at myself for experiencing feelings through my other senses. Ability to see and hear can be quantified by measurement. Smell is a tricky one, it can become tolerant or weak or sensitive, something that can be gauged qualitatively. Taste of course, while being subjective, can be classified too. But how do we express our ability to feel? Is it just the response to a physical stimulus on skin? Is it a sensation, of pleasure, or pain or plain numbness? Our ability to feel depends not just on the number of nerve endings per square inch of skin. It is in our openness to receive, our sensitivity to perceive beyond the obvious, to be open to new and inexplicable situations. As I age, I find that I am not doing so well on some measurable parameters for certain senses, but what fills me with hope is that I am refining my sense of touch. I feel more now than when I lived in the obvious world of sensory overload. I now stop and appreciate things. With my participation, I feel more alive. Perhaps growing old has its rewards.

Thought-provoking words

I read a wonderful article in The Hindu magazine section this weekend. It was an opinion about Apple's "Think Different" ad campaign, a phenomenally successful promotion of Apple products that led to the rebirth of the company in 1997 and continued to run till 2002 taking not just the products but the company and its founders to iconic status.
A link to the article is provided below.
http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-sundaymagazine/article2602615.ece

After a long time, I have come across an article that compelled me to write to the author to appreciate not just the thoughts on the topic but for the compelling articulation of his stance. It is writing that is clear, easy to read and difficult to ignore. Although the author feels strongly about the subject and lets us know his stance unambiguously, he argues the case without being judgmental about the majority who may think otherwise. The flow is smooth, the narrative taut and the logic faultless. It is not a tirade against the status quo but a sharp voicing of opinion that shatters the haze through we which normally operate. It made me sit up and read the words again. I stopped and mulled over the content. I talked about it with friends. I sent out the link via email to those who I thought would appreciate it.

Good writing should do all that. Make you read and re-read. Inspire thinking. Stimulate discussion. Energize into action. A writer by no means is an activist but he wields a mighty weapon, the pen that brings form to his deepest thoughts. And through that channel of creativity, writers can become agents of change. Change demands movement towards something new, away from the ordinary, off the beaten track or in one word, different.

Let me take this time to salute all those writers who indeed "think different".

Clarity confounded

I was watching the movie "Paa" this weekend. I had watched it once before. For a movie with a poignant theme, it is a remarkably unsentimental movie. The characters are strong and well-etched, the story clear on its priorities, the actors at the top of their craft. There is a memorable scene where Vidya confesses her pregnancy to her mother and the only question she asks is "Do you want this baby?". Vidya haltingly replies only to be confronted with the same question from her mother. Again. And again. Until Vidya admits that she wants to have the baby.

It is a powerful scene. Succinct. With no melodrama or weeping histrionics on the parts of the characters. Beauty of the scene lies in communicating just one thing - is Vidya clear on what she wants? Baby or not? The rest can be taken care of, whether that deals with society's perception of an unwed mother or the practical aspect of single-parenting. I was struck by the simple yet persistent question that brings clarity to the heart of the problem. Solution then meekly follows suit.

How often in life do we get befuddled by an issue that stumps us? It may be a new situation or an ongoing one. Something that needs attention now or something that needs to be mulled over. Like the fable about the old man, his grandson and the donkey, we don't know whose advice to take. Should the old man ride the donkey or should the child be given a ride? Different people voice different opinions. Following one or the other seems to cause discomfort to one section of the populace. In frustration finally it is the donkey that is hitched onto the shoulders for a ride!

Seeking advice is a good thing to do when you are in a dilemma. Finding the right advisor for the right problem is an art in itself. But regardless of the wisdom of the well-wisher, we know deep down that the key to our problem lies within us. When too many thoughts swirl around causing turmoil, we are unable to see clearly in the sandstorm. But clarity lies within, not outside. It requires a journey inwards. A mentor can guide us on such a journey but wiping away the muck to view the issue with clarity is something we must do ourselves. Perhaps the best way is to ask ourselves that pesky but pertinent question repeatedly. It will first cause an uncomfortable churn, then an impulse to run away or shove it away to the back. But when we dig deep, we will find the way to the clear stream of water underground. And then rest of the obstacles, real and imagined will fall away.

From clarity arises purposeful action. Action that is sustained and right. But we need to also act first, act to find the clarity.

Be careful what you wish for.....

Wishing while blowing out the candle on your birthday cake, wishing while tossing a coin in a fountain, wishing on a fallen eyelash, so many opportunities to make a wish. So many reminders to stop and contemplate something that you long for and want in your life. We assume that the wishes accompanying these rituals are good ones, initiating the creation of happy experiences and memorable events. So we consciously create a thought. And many of these come true.

What about those thoughts that remind us of our fears? Our inadequacies? Our potential losses? Those don't count as wishes; they are our terrors, things that we don't want to contemplate, things we wish would not happen. But so often we find that these have come true as well. How can that be possible? These are not "good thoughts" that require manifestation. Surely it is not me who has created them? Or is it?

I often think about many of my wishes that have come true. It is great to admit that I have created in my life, experiences and events that took shape in my head long before they assumed form in reality. I like to take the credit for making them come true. But quite often, these wishes have also brought other things into my life, logical consequences of making room for the wishes, that have given life to my fears as well. When my daughter was born, I continued to work. I enjoyed being a mother and a good employee. But life was hard. My child was in daycare, fell sick periodically and grew up while I was busy juggling all the priorities. I wished to be a financially-independent career woman, but my fear was that I would not enjoy time with my child. Both my wish (for meaningful work and motherhood) and fear (of child not getting enough of my attention)came into being simultaneously.

There are many such examples where people have had to face the fears that they avoided confronting. The woman who gave up working after marriage but worried about the family's financial security with one income. When her husband suddenly passed away, she had to face the very fear that she had shoved to the back of her mind while making a choice years ago. The man who worried about his child getting a serious infection and did his best to protect him from common causes but had to confront a life-threatening brain infection for his grown-up child due to unknown causes.

What makes fears come true? Is it an evil, malevolent energy, different from the benign positive energy that shrouds a wish? As the years go by, I am convinced that there is no difference in the energies that enable both our wishes and fears from coming into existence. When we put our attention on something, that "something" is bound to grow. If we work peacefully, good things happen. When we worry, we send immensely powerful energy to that very thing we are trying to avoid and that grows too. Fears and wishes are both products of our mind. A powerful tool for creation. The two are linked, sometimes we see one side of the coin, sometimes we the other. Sometimes we see the object and sometimes the reflection.

The fulfillment of every wish comes with its attendant changes. We want only the good and resist the consequences. Perhaps that's why Mother Theresa said "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones."

So should we wish at all? Good question.

I strongly feel one SHOULD wish, but as they say, Be careful what you wish for, it may just come true.

Life lessons - counting blessings

I came across my "autograph book" last week. It is a small 3" X 5" book with pages bearing a flowery design. This is a book which bears messages from my friends in Class X at my all-girls school in Mumbai. The messages are mostly mushy, some corny and unabashedly sentimental. They talk about friendship and togetherness, memories and motivation. Some teachers have written in it too. The "khadoos" nun who taught mathematics was also the principal of the school. Her words to me were "the greatest mathematics to master in life is the one that enables us to count our blessings." At that time I remember thinking "how typical, she writes about math even in this book."

But today I see the meaning behind those words. As humans we like to keep score, no matter how poorly we fare in mathematics in school. We are constantly tallying what others have, how much they make, how many bedrooms in their mansion, what make are the cars in the neighbors garage, whether their kids got into IIT, where was the holiday destination of relatives. We talk of ROIs and EMIs. We calculate mileage for the car, square footage price for the house and percentage of raise for the salary. We estimate run rate to ensure victory in cricket matches. We watch the SENSEX graph slide down and gold prices skyrocket. Even the most pathetic math student does quite well in real life. We truly master practical math, not the stuff taught from textbooks in school.

How often do we apply the same approach to the other stuff in our life? When would you value health? Not until you lose. How would you quantify your wealth? In terms of having much more than you can imagine or always having what you need available to you. How do you classify friends? Can you calculate a happiness quotient? Can we put a number for satisfaction? Freedom? But are these not valuable? Perhaps not amenable to mathematical manipulation but important indicators of quality of life. Not everything in life is measurable and quantifiable. Items that fall in this category are blessings. If we learn to count the blessings, we master spiritual mathematics. I don't know where my math teacher is today, but I thank her for covering topics other than the exam portion and for opening my mind to subjects other than what was prescribed by the syllabus.

Life lessons - being yourself

At age 5, Aparna really loved the show about Clifford, the big red dog. In one endearing episode, a key character feels that dogs have a great life and imagines life as a dog. Of course, he soon finds out the disadvantages of being a four-legged creature in a man's world and soon appreciates his real self.

On our morning ride to school, she asked me if I had ever wanted to be someone else, probably hoping for an amusing answer about another creature from the animal species. I had not entertained such fantasies. But I honestly replied that I had quite often wished that I had been a boy. Why? Because I had two brothers and I thought that life was more fun for boys, I replied. She seriously considered my response and then gravely observed, "If you had been a boy, you could never have been my Mommy."

What an astonishing insight! She had no idea about the difficulties I had encountered on my way to attaining motherhood. But she had somehow intuitively tapped into what I considered was my greatest achievement, one which I could not have attained had I been granted my wish of being male. So often we think life would be better if something could change, if we had the advantages available to another, if there were privileges in our possession, tangible benefits that would improve the quality of our lives. But nothing gives more joy than being true to our own selves. Once we accept who we are, with the attendant benefits and baggage, we are able to live life more fully, joyously. And sometimes it takes a little one to point out the larger lesson.