Doing and delegating

I remember when I was promoted in my first job to a level where I had one employee reporting to me. While it seemed like a major milestone, it was quite scary to be responsible for the work produced by another person. As I progressed in my career, I became more comfortable managing people but I was more distant from doing the work myself. Quite often I missed doing "real" work and would try to keep my skills intact by showing up in the lab, operating instruments, getting my hands dirty, in a manner of speaking. When I returned to India and started working, I had a driver, a maid and a cook to help with the household activities in order to ease my life. Once again, I distanced myself from doing things, by surrounding myself with helpers.

Today I lead a simplified life. A fairly self-sufficient life. I drive my car. I cook. I do have a maid who spends about an hour at my home for daily housework but I still tackle all the major cleaning and dusting myself. I like to cook my meals, try my hand at making pickles and halwas, without having to delegate this work in painful detail. I can whip up a sandwich on the days I don't feel like making an elaborate meal or put together an eclectic menu when friends drop in for an impromptu lunch. I dusted the ceiling fans this afternoon, washed my colored clothes and scrubbed the grime from the kitchen cabinets. It was tiring but when I look around to admire my handiwork, I feel happy, and proud. It is great to know that I can afford to pay someone to do these tasks, but it is more satisfying to actually do my work. There is joy in doing. There is merit in self-sufficiency. By doing my work myself, I also want to teach Aparna that there is dignity in labor. While we use the services of others to ease our lives, we should be grateful for their presence. We should be able to do those tasks ourselves as well. While delegating may look glamorous, doing it yourself brings a sense of joy that is unparalleled.

Parental narcissism

It happens quite often. Someone who meets Aparna for the first time or sees her after a long break, will say "You look just like your mother." For a teenager who is still trying to get comfortable with her own skin, that comment is as unpleasant as someone telling her that her phone is "not cool". Parents, in general, are thrilled when genetic similarities are remarked upon. Even if we don't pass on the best of our personalities, at least the superficial markings are enough to confirm our parenthood. It massages the ego, it reaffirms our exalted status as parents who brought similar-looking children into the world.

Parental narcissism, however refers to the inclination of parents to view children as extensions of themselves. In a newspaper interview, Howard Gardner, renowned developmental psychologist, reiterates that "parents should avoid positive and negative narcissism." Positive narcissism is expecting that the child will be interested in and excel at activities that the parent himself/herself preferred, such as playing the violin or a sport. The latter refers to the insistence of parents that the child excel at activities which the parent could not do, such as swimming or singing. We see children of doctor's becoming doctors. The epidemic of Indian parents wanting their children to become doctors or engineers, because they themselves could not pursue those courses of study, continues unabated across generations, even today. I wonder how many parents have considered themselves to exhibit behaviors that can be classified as positively or negatively narcissistic? And if they were told, would they behave any differently?

I have always felt that I have made much progress in my personal life largely due to the fact that I was not "labeled" at birth to fit into a preconceived category by my parents. I was free to chart the course of my life, within reason of course, but I knew that these decisions had no major bearing on my parent's wishes. It is incredibly liberating to be in a place of myriad options, as you grow into your own adult persona.

I understand my daughter's irritation at being compared to me or to her dad (most of her dads friends/relatives think she looks like him too). While she accepts her biological origin, she wants to create a separate identity, whether it is with how she appears physically, the traits she displays or the talents she expresses. She wants to explore many possibilities, some of which may be common to our preferences while others may be totally off our radar. And that is her right. Then what is the role of the parent? As Gardner says, "the challenge is to watch your children very carefully, see what interests and excites them, and find ways to help them follow that talent/passion/curiosity."

It is so much easier to dispense advice and give prescriptions to today's youth about what they need to do. It is much harder to silently observe without passing judgment, even on our children. The children have a long road ahead as they turn into good adults and responsible citizens of the world. Can we then support them by aiding them in their chosen paths, igniting in them the passion to pursue their talents even if they tread on a path unfamiliar to us? A hard test to pass!

The Descendants - Movie Review

I once saw a statement at a bookstore in Mumbai - "Don't judge a book by its movie." How true, I thought. For a book lover like me, seldom has a movie based on a book, come up to the level of the original writing. Sometimes, a picture which is supposed to be equal to a thousand words, does not do justice to the sheer beauty of the writing or depth of the story. But then, I came across "The Descendants", a contender for this year's Oscar, which made me think again. Here is a movie that makes me want to read the book. I wonder if the writing can convey in mere words, the poetry of the scenes that move you, whether the text can be true to the magnificence of the Hawaiian sunsets, whether the central character, played wonderfully well by George Clooney, can generate the same empathy in the reader.

The story is simple. It revolves around the lives of Matthew King's family as they deal with the fact that his wife, Elizabeth lies in an irreversible coma after a boating accident. Matt goes from being a self-proclaimed "back-up parent" to his two girls to being in the center of the most important events in his life. As he comes to terms with the fact that Elizabeth will never wakeup, the fact that he has no clue how to handle the girls, a major decision as trustee of his family's large parcel of land that is being considered for sale to developers, we get to see a man at the lowest point of his life. A place where he feels inadequate at every level of relationships, as husband, father, son-in-law, cousin and friend.

Clooney, despite his obvious charm, underplays the part to perfection. Holding the rapidly unraveling strings of his life, he shows grace under fire. He is not a perfect human but a good one. As he deals with all the cards that seem stacked up against him, he rises to each occasion. The blue ocean of Hawaii contrasts with the gray areas of their lives. And without even noticing the transition, we see why the movie has the title of "The Descendants". Family, linkage, legacy, trust, love, forgiveness, how do these fit into our daily lives? Do we give it any thought? Are we ruled by where we come from? Do we fear what we know or don't know? What would you do in tough situations? These questions came to my mind as I left the theater with the image of the girls dispersing the ashes in the ocean. As they mourn the loss of one parent, they find a connection with other. And that is what families are about.

Of Aunts and Apps

Every so often, my elder brother, an ardent fan of old Hindi movie songs, will get a tune in his head. He wants to know which movie was it from, who the singer and composer was, who were the featured actors. So he contacts the expert. Our aunt, father's youngest sister, a great singer and movie buff, will give him the answers within a minute, give or take a few seconds. Sometimes she will call me to relate this incident. Sometimes, the quiz continues to other songs, other movies, a few bars sung across a STD call and another memory is created, a connection reaffirmed.

Now there is an app that you can download on your phone, Shazam (?) It can listen to a piece of music and within a few seconds, it can tell you the name of the song and the singer. It takes very little effort, no small talk and works pretty well most of the time. It impresses me for a while but leaves to impression. I don't feel any more connected to my gadget than the minute before it showed me its "smartphone" features. I marvel at the technology but make to memories. I don't have an excuse to call my aunt. Perhaps initiate a conversation where I learn more about her than her prodigious musical memory, a few bits of the Bhagavad Geeta perhaps, that she is mastering or a fable that has a moral underpinning that I need to hear that day.

I know my friends look up recipes on the internet. But I learnt to make avakai last summer because another aunt was visiting and she transferred to me not just the proportions and process of making the pickle but also her love for preparing foods that her family loves. If you need directions, use Mapquest, not the friendly Uncle next door who would love to have an excuse to chat and provide valuable advice as to which route to take on a weekday at rush hour versus the scenic route on a leisurely Sunday drive. We call Just Dial for a phone number instead of asking a friend who has used a service where she gives you not just the number but also her opinion about how three competing companies compare on service.

I support technology and appreciate the ease with which we have integrated it into our lives, saving large chunks of time that previously were spent in lines for paying utility bills and booking tickets. But what are we doing with this extra time? Spending it on looking for more gadgets and widgets, for apps and downloads, withdrawing into a virtual world where human interaction becomes optional? To live a full life, it is important to feel, to interact, to engage. Not just with the buzzing screen of the computer but with a living person, however slow, fallible and unpredictable they may be. Humans need human interaction. It is through these relationships that we learn and grow, we love and share, we bicker and bond. When the interface does not respond in the same human dimension, however quick it may be, it is an incomplete feeling. For the geeks who get all their satisfaction from developing these new apps and gadgets, I have a simple questions. When you have that "Eureka" moment of discovery, who do rush to share it with? Android or human?

Parenthood

More than 15 years ago, I attended a birthday party for a friend's daughter in Washington DC. The group was composed of mostly Indian families with small kids and a few Americans. I remember watching a young Indian mother running after her active toddler son, trying to get him to eat something. The curious child moved rapidly between the tables, attracted by everything around him, finding the task of eating too boring. The mother had not sampled the buffet lunch, was clearly exasperated and obviously quite hungry. But she stopped chasing the child only after he had eaten to her satisfaction. At the same time, the American toddlers were sitting around the tablet with bibs around their neck, bravely tackling the items on plate, sometimes with tiny plastic forks or with their chubby fingers. Their parents were enjoying the food on their own plates and rarely paid attention to what was happening at the toddler table. After a reasonable amount of time, the child indicated that he wanted to get off the high-chair to which he was confined and went off to play. The uneaten food was dumped into the bin.

This scene came to mind when I read about the furor created in Norway when two little kids of Indian parentage were taken into protective custody by the child welfare agency for parenting behaviors that were found "odd" (to put it mildly) in that culture. There seems to be some resolution after intervention by the President of India and the resulting decision to hand over the children to their Uncle.

Parenting is a universal activity that all the people in the world who choose to rear children do daily. Most of the time, parents do what they do, unconsciously. How they bring up their children is guided by personal choices, not as per prescribed textbooks. Like so many other things we learn in life, parenting is a learned skill. While most parents build upon what they saw in their own childhood (either to replicate or rebel against), they also negotiate the wishes of the spouse who may have a different view on the subject. Parents from the same culture and similar socio-economic class may perhaps make the same choices. But at every corner, there are sharp turns and divisive opinions that trouble the most peaceful families.

When the subject of bringing up a child in a different cultural environment (from the one you grew up in) comes up, there are even fewer pointers, hardly any role-models. Does culture influence parenting? Yes. How and where you grew up is a major factor in how you make your choices as a parent. Where are you living now features heavily while making decisions in the present specially when you are bringing up your child in a different country. But can we honestly say that all of us who grew up in the same culture would bring up our children the same way? No. Parenting is influenced by culture but is comprised of a series of individual decisions, unique choices, keeping in mind the needs of today's society and the demands that the future will make on the children of today.

We may debate the merits of junk food and TV watching but what we need to observe as parents is the impression that we make on young minds. Everything we do should be guided not just by blind love but an awareness of the imprint that our choices will leave. Will our children grow up to be caring and committed citizens of the world? Will they be able to imbibe the best of all cultures that they are exposed to? Will they become responsible parents and not dogmatic supporters of everything that they see in their immediate world? Since each of our actions are to be weighed in light of our own context and situation, quite often there are no right/wrong, black/white solutions. The proof of good parenting can only be determined if we follow the children into adulthood and when they in turn bring up the next generation. If we continue to live in civil society as responsible citizens that protect not just their progeny but look out for a sustainable world, I think we can consider ourselves to be on the right track. For the globalized village in which we live today, that would mean bringing together the good from all cultures and melding it into a way of life, not a court-documented recipe, for a harmonious world.

My First Love - Aparna's first poem

Aparna wrote this poem today at the literary workshop for school children at the Hyderabad Literary Festival held at Taramati Baradari. I am thrilled at her effort and even more pleased to share that she won a prize for it, 8 poems from 140 submissions were selected for the prize.

MY FIRST LOVE

He came into my life
One Sunday morning
He was my first
He brought such joy I have never felt before
We brought him home
He explored the place
He settled down and took a rest.
I looked at him lovingly,
Imagining how life would be now.

The days passed
And I grew to love him more
We ran and played
And grew closer
He became a part of me; a possession
Perhaps I took him for granted
For four years later,
When I saw him lying still there, I was devastated.
His tongue out, and his tail stiff,
Tears rolled out and fell to the floor.
I knew he was gone forever.
I looked at him lovingly,
Imagining how life would be now
Without him.

But when he was here, I had been happy
‘That was his job,’ she said, ‘to make you happy.’
‘To teach you how to love.’
I hope he’s happy in heaven
Chasing butterflies and cats
My first ever pet,
Sharky.

Innocence

This rangoli graced the space outside my neighbor's apartment this weekend. A beautiful creation on the occasion of Pongal. We stopped to admire it and rang the doorbell to compliment the creator. My neighbor's son, a naughty three year-old promptly stepped out with his new toy, a slim and long airplane and promptly started using the rangoli as a runway to demonstrate. Both Aparna and the boy's mother were upset and asked him to not mess up the masterpiece. But the child kept on with his antics until we bid goodbye to them and moved away. If you look closely, you will see the tiny lines running across the colored spaces, marking the areas where the aircraft came into contact. But the rangoli is still as eye catching.

Aparna asked me why I had not stopped the boy. I told her a story that my mother had narrated to me years ago. Once upon a time a woman prayed to God. She asked him to send someone who would wipe off the kum kum from her forehead, someone who would eat the dryfruits that she offered each morning as prasad and someone who would erase her daily rangoli. People were shocked at these prayers since traditionally all of these constituted bad omens. Only the people who could look deeper into the words realized that she was asking God for a baby. For only a child would do all of the above with innocence, unaware of the connotations or significance of his/her impish actions.

As we grow up, we get caught into the idea of perfection, of maintaining our life, our figure, our routine within predictable confines, coloring within the lines so to speak. We are not even able to tolerate others doing something different, off the beaten track. Why stop the child from being true to himself for that small part of his life when he can be true? Yes, destruction of a large magnitude needs to be curtailed and limits of acceptable behavior need to be enforced. But just as we appreciate the creation of a beautiful rangoli, let us also celebrate the innocence of childhood when we see it in action.