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.