Happy Diwali

 It was sometime in October it struck me that soon it would be that time of the year again. Diwali. In past many years, I would not be at home for this occasion. Not that it would a big pompous celebration. More so after my sister’s wedding and her transplantation into her husband’s home, the pomp at our home has rather been reduced. Yet, even reduced pomp would be much brighter than Diwali in America, which is usually celebrated either in advance or after Diwali due to the event often falling on a weekday. Moreover, Diwali in India is not just about celebration at home. It’s also a lot about being soaked in the spirit of the festival experienced through the idiosyncrasies of the neighbors, of the kids blowing up crackers even at 4 am, of the insulin-injecting-diabetes-pained aunts slyly devouring extra sweetened gulab jamuns, of the brightening up of all the houses and buildings and not just Empire State building. I have a very poor memory. I don’t know if I ever had all these experiences or this is just my unusual romanticism with most things Indian. Regardless, I felt that I would miss all this if I decided to stay in New York. This, thus, sowed the first seeds of the idea of coming to New Delhi for Diwali.

What pushed the idea significantly ahead was the fact that off late, I hadn’t delivered any strong happy news to my parents. Fine, I recently completed my MBA from an American University. It was no where close to something like I got married. Or I became father. Or I came home for Diwali unannounced. There you go. Their happiness would know no bounds if I get home for this biggest family festival of Hindu calendar. My mother’s complaints about being lonely on Diwali in the past years had given me a fair picture of what they would be like if did not come home. My father would be asleep by 8:30 in the evening after the laxmi pujan. My mother would be watching TV like other three-sixty-four days of the year.

Thus I decided to come home. After all, doesn’t the romanticism of Diwali include home coming of Ram? At a short notice I got cheapest tickets with Kuwait Airways, which I regretted later though. 

In America, a usual greeting is ‘What’s up’. Of course, all cultures of have their own versions of what’s up. India or the Hindi-speaking India has “Aur sunao”, “Nayi taazi?”, “Kya haal chaal”. Irrespective of the flavor, this greeting would often annoy the hell out of me because I detest pattern repetition, more so such repetition in my own responses. I just could not stand me saying ‘Nothing much’ or ‘bas badhiya’ all the time to someone. I am ready to be accused of having retarded social skills for not coming up with new responses each time. I just didn’t like boring the crap out of a person by responding to him or her with this redundant reply every time.  But now,  when any friend or colleague who would say, ‘what’s up’, I would launch into an excited reply, “Well, I am going home for Diwali. What’s more, I am landing on the day of Diwali. My folks have no idea that I will be there! It would be just like K3G movie. Except a helipad.”.. And now, the innate entertainer in me would feel so happy to see the other person so engaged and excited and enthused. In any relationship, I often take it upon myself to engage and entertain the other person. I do not know the name that the social psychologists give to this disorder. I just like to crack people up. Sometimes I succeed; sometimes I end up embarrassing myself. But with this reply, everyone was excited and happy. I wasn’t even worried about anyone spilling beans to my family about my arrival because I knew damn well that my life outside my family is highly insulated from the one inside. This and any other blog I ever wrote,  has never been read by my folks. It’s quite interesting to have this dichotomous life. I guess many Indians or many bi-lingual people lead those lives.

In my flight to New Delhi, I sat next to this interesting country girl from England who was on her soul searching trip to India. She gave me useful tips of reducing the ear-disturbance during landing and take-off of the planes. Well she offered me sweet candies for that. Interestingly, she used those candies for many purposes, including keeping her breath fresh every time I popped a Wrigley’s gum. The best gift she gave me was the phrase ‘country-bumpkin’. That’s the British version of the funny American phrase hillbilly !

As soon as I  landed at the Airport, I changed from my country bumpkin’s clothes into  a three piece suit and cleaned up real well. When I emerged out of the Men’s room, the Brit conceded that I didn’t look sexy, I looked New York sexy. She had never been to New York. But I took that as an assurance that I had completed this part in my theatrics of Meet the Parents. I do not usually dress up to see my family. They have seen me in all shapes, sizes and colors. Yet, on my last visit to India, I drew a lot of flak for not being nice and clean ( after completing an over 20 hour ordeal across continents). Outside the airport, I approached a pre-paid taxi stand and on hearing the fare of Rs 360 for getting home which was less than 8km from the airport, I got my first reverse cultural shock. Even though I had no bench mark for taxi fare because I either drove or used public transport in India, this first exposure to a three digit expense in last two years woke me from my sub-conscious slumber of jet-lag now. I surrendered though; theatrics had to be complete after all.

The taxi-driver was friendly. He met me first time this morning and asked, “kaise ho”. I launched into my overly enthusiastic detailed reply about my unannounced visit to home. He told that he also did the same when he would go to Bhagal Pur. He wasn’t going home for Chatth this time though. Too much time and rising prices would force his wife to observe chhath in a makeshift pond in Delhi this year. While chatting, I would adjust my place in this rickety taxi every once in a while to make sure that I was not overexposing my head to the wind that would screw up my recently made hair. There would be no big a** mirrors like those at Indira Gandhi International and the only comb I had was now buried deep in one of the two identical bags I carried.

Despite preparation for over a month for this moment, as I opened the gate of my house at 7am  and started walking upstairs, my heart was pounding like the dog that chased me on my last visit to Delhi. I blame my funny looking red short for that though. I was here, in front of doorbell. There was no mirror for a last minute check. I took the name of Bhagwan Shankar and rang the bell, assured that I was all good. Out of anxiety and nervousness, I rang multiple bells. Something that only I or my sister do. My father opened the door thinking that it was my sister. My mother stood by refrigerator, staring at me, probably just having finished with a call to her brother. I could sense a pause of one second in the timeline of universe. I really did. Our eyes were frozen. Our minds were pacing. To understand what was going on. And now it happened. She cried. They hugged. We hugged. We were oblivious of the two identical bags and the friendly taxi driver from Bhagal Pur on the street downstairs. Three of us hugged  for several minutes we took to absorb that this happened. I knew my parents were happy. Very happy. But I wanted to experience that happiness. I wanted to know how much happy they were. When someone is enjoying a chocolate and making those umm sounds, I know she is enjoying that chocolate a lot. But I can’t experience that by just looking at her and by hearing  those sounds. I was happy too. I knew my parents were happier still. I probably can never experience their joy till I become a father.

Regardless, I was happy that all this meticulous planning and theatrical delivery resulted into a Happy Diwali –

Is it any wonder then that not many attempted to defend India from the writings of Sahaja Patel but Michaela Cross’ story got attacked from left, right and center?

Once at a workshop on race issues in the United States, I told an African-American colleague, “These race matters are indeed quite serious, I have one suggestion about it.”

“Don’t you have caste system in your country?” she said before I could continue.

***

During my usual Sunday morning calls to friends and family in India, I shared with a friend who I have known for over eight years, “Man, these sexual harassment stories in India just keep increasing.”

“Does that not happen in your America?”, he snapped.

***

These and many other similar incidents made me observe a pattern in the reactions. Reaction is not completely based on the content of the original comment. A significant weight on the attribute of the creator of comment goes into that reaction. Attributes can include the location, or gender, or race or countless other dimensions. What would have been the first reaction above if I were African-American?  What would have been the reaction of my friend if the same remark was made by an Indian living in India?

This kind of offensive defense describes many of the arguments that many Indians have given in their reaction to the CNN narrative of American citizen Michaela Cross about the alleged sexual harassment she went through at the hands of some Indian men during her travel in India. Often, the statistics about number of rapes in America is quoted in those reactions.  Before making comparison of crime statistics, we must take into cognition that rape statistics in India are the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Getting a case registered is a herculean task and the police are often a major hurdle. A few of my closest female friends told me that they have gone through some of the troubles in the recent years that Michaela Cross faced. But their troubles have never been recorded as a statistic in police record because they would never share that with police or anyone they can’t trust or feel comfortable with.

Granted that the veracity of Cross’ story and her intentions behind that story are under scanner now due to some contradicting stories appearing on web about her experiences on the same trip. But interesting irony is that if the same narrative was written by an Indian woman, the dialogue would have taken another shape. There might not be even a dialogue. Incidentally, another blog, written by an Indian woman Sahaja Patel about disrespectful experiences that Indian girls go through could not become the trending piece. Of course, the marketing dollars of CNN’s brand name too had to do with the exposure that Cross’ story received. But Patel’s story did not cause as many Indian readers to act or react. Possibly because they knew it – it was an all too familiar story. Patel is a metaphor for so many Indian babies, girls and women for whom this is an unspoken part of life.  Is it any wonder then that not many attempted to defend India from the writings of Sahaja Patel but Michaela Cross’ story got attacked from left, right and center?  

To the Indians who point to rape and crime statistics in US in their attempts to defend India’s pride, here are some questions. Are you concerned more about safety of women in India or in the rest of the world? Where do most of your sisters and female relatives live? Even if Europe or North America has more rape cases, would those more cases make any India safer for  women? Concluding that all Indian men are predators is grossly inaccurate and dangerous. But is the observation that safety of women is a concern in India (in no relative context, but absolute context) inaccurate? Even if there is one case in a year in all of India, will Indians not be doing disservice to themselves in defending the country by comparing themselves with the countries that are worse? Isn’t even one a matter of shame?

Imagine India being a mass of land that happens to have the name India. People are trying to live on this piece of land productively and there is a safety concern for these people. Whether one of these people highlights this or some visitor to this land points it out, it is in the benefit of the people of this land to acknowledge and fix it. Visitor won’t be always enjoying the benefits of living on this safe land, but people of this land will. For a long time.

Next time when someone points to the alleged acts of Asaram Bapu, please do not mention the history of molestation of young boys at the hands of the priests in the Vatican. That won’t make him holier if the allegations are proved to be true.

PS: “Dude, you have ink on your shirt.”

“You have that too.”

“Well this is New York, people take different paths to reach their destination.”

Morning time is quite a crowded time at subway stations  and while emerging out of station, many people (at times me too) walk up using the left part of the stairs when right one is moving too slow. I saw this Asian guy waiting at the beginning of stairs for the right lane to get clear. In front of him were many commuters (including Asian girls)  walking up the left stairs. When crowd cleared from the right lane, this guy began walking up and I just followed the Asian guy.  When we came out, I said, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes”

I asked him why he did so. First, my articulation skill in English is quite poor in describing physical scenarios. I really need a pen and paper. I can’t put things in words as easy as I could describe visually. So I take longer to frame my question and convey what I meant to ask. During those 40-60 seconds, I feel so much pressure about what’s going in the mind of my subjects. I look at their eyes and their face. They are very attentive, after all I am asking a question about them, about their action, and not about why sky is blue. Their face is not relaxed and they are not smiling. They might as well be feeling that I am judging them. When I finish my question, that’s when I see a faint smile or sometimes laughter on their faces.

So this guy explained to me that right lane is what people use to go up. People come down from the left.

“Yeah exactly, but there were many who were going up from the left too..  .. in front of you”

“Well this is  New York, people take different paths to reach their destination.”

Are you going to work?

The temperature was 95 degrees Fahrenheit. My feet were almost melting in socks further enclosed by a pair of leather shoes. Walking on 8^th street, I noticed the feet of a woman in a sky blue foot wear that was letting every pore on her feet to breathe. I wondered how comfortable this woman must be feeling. I was quite happy for her because she could chose to wear what is comfortable for her. I was proud of her as well for making a choice for herself. As we got into the building and walked into elevator, she pulled out from her purse another pair of footwear, which was fancier and apparently more office-like.  All the stock points she gained in my head in last 120 seconds, she lost in no time now. Rate at which stock price of the woman-with-sky-blue-footwear fell, was exponential. I could not ask her why.

Another hot morning to work. Just when I was about to get off the Q train, I saw a gentleman in a nice grey suit. What caught my attention though were his feet, which were interestingly not covered in shoes or any other close footwear. He was casually and comfortably walking out of the subway station. But this time I asked him, “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, why?”

“I am quite amused by what you are wearing on your feet, which is in stark contrast with the rest of the paraphernalia that is covering your body. I wish I could wear slippers like that. But I have logistic dilemma – is that appropriate to wear to work?”

“No, not really. I change into formal dress shoes when I reach work.”

“Where do you change?”

“In my office, I have a big office room.”

“Oh, alright, great. Have a great day!”

I started wondering about my options. I don’t carry a purse to place an extra pair of shoes. I don’t have a big office room either. Should I continue to burn my feet? But more importantly, why the woman and gentleman above had to change their footwear? Would the seriousness of their actions at work   be doubted if they continue to wear something they are comfortable with and something that is not conventionally counted in formal office wear? Are human feet so ugly they need to be covered all the time to do any kind of business?

Few days later, I decided to wear flip flops. I really did. I had to attend a workshop that day. A woman asked me, “What is it that you are wearing there?” I looked at her feet, and I noted that bottom of her feet were covered by a flat black sole and top of her feet were covered by a pair of black slings. Essentially, the only difference between hers and my foot wear were that mine were made of rubber and hers were made of leather, and mine were white and hers were black. So I was quick to reply as I pointed to her feet, “What, you can, and I can’t?” 

What would it take a Zimmerman to see a Martin as one of him?

A famous Bollywood movie called Fashion featured the downfall of a fashion model played by an even more famous actress Priyanka Chopra. The nadir of her career and life is shown when she meets a Black man in a club and discovers later in the morning that she slept with him. She walks out of the room filled with extreme guilt. The scene of the film became viral. UTV Motion Pictures (owned by Disney) itself posted the video on YouTube in its channel. It still exists with the name “Priyanka Chopra Sleeps With a Black Man - Fashion”.

Coming to America from New Delhi only two years ago, I had almost zero understanding or experience of America high school education system and diversity matters until I came to Teach For America, a month ago. When Matt Kramer mentioned the word ‘other’ in the first reflection, it made me question every experience I had in India with Africans and African Americans. When I watched that film five years ago, I was flowing with emotions sitting in the theater like all other audience. The absurdness of the scene did not at all occur to me. But now I ask why could they not use any Indian person for that character? A black man was sufficiently different from ‘us’ so that he could be used as an ‘other’.

My parents would probably never allow me to marry a Muslim woman. Because Muslims are ‘others’ for them.

When I worked in Himalayas, and co-interned with a colleague of Uganda, kids in the village will giggle every time this colleague would pass by. He was an ‘other’ for them.

What would it take a Zimmerman to see a Martin as one of him?

I grew up with some Muslim classmates in kindergarten and grade school. As a child, I shared lunch box with them. I would trade my rice-lentils with their biryani.  Many years later, when I went to college, two of my closest friends happened to by Muslims. This was only possible because I was able to bridge the distance to the ‘other’ when I was too young to have any meaning of the ‘other’.

This was how I made the ‘other’ as one of me. How would you do?

PS: My mother just returned from her pilgrimage to an Islamic Shrine Pushkar where she prayed for a nice Hindu girl to enter my life soon.

People of Color

In India, there is a broad spectrum of skin color. When I was growing up, I saw children, men and women of colors ranging from very black (which is often offensively referred to as the back of a frying pan in some regions in India), to varying shades of brown (which is objectively called wheatish in the notifications of matrimony or lost person reports) to fair complexion ( pale white  or yellow, or pink). I, like most other people I knew, thought each of these shades as colors. A very fair person fair has a skin color and so has a person who is dark complexioned. Thus, because every person was a person of color, there was no concept of person of color.

Living in New York City, I hear the phrase ‘people of color’ quite often. In the discussions about economic and social equality, researchers and policy makers often use this phrase. We understand that, African American and Hispanic communities have suffered oppression and inequality historically, and that’s why there is vital need to work for empowerment of people of colors if those are the races we refer to by ‘people of color’. But what surprised me was an Indian woman referred to her as ‘people of color’. She came to America two years ago and she is asserting her right to be given more opportunities. As I observed further in various situations, including in employment forms, anyone not white Caucasian is a person of color.  All of my life, I didn’t consider myself or my family any special because everyone was born with some color. So seeing this identity given to me - ‘person of color’ confused me. Indians, who come to America, for most part, are smart and bright people with reasonably decent socio-economic background. By the time they reach the American shores, they have had enough opportunities to get over any opportunity gap they might have suffered in life so far. They come here on fellowships and scholarships and pursue excellent careers. They don’t need special treatment from the perspective of ‘opportunity gap’. Putting them in the category of ‘people of color’ seems grossly inaccurate. This phrase has meanings beyond the literal meaning about colors.

And speaking of colors, it is not still not clear that why is white not a color? And you know who is white? - People having Albinism. Everyone else is actually not white if we are discussing literally. By calling every non-white-Caucasian as a person of color, are we not exercising a latent form of racism? Are we not referring to one voice as a main stream voice, and everything else as streams of voices that need to be heard?

  

As I graduate today ..

One of the many reasons I wanted to MBA was to find out what the fuss was about. Well others, more important ones included learning to make more rational decisions and not feeling handicapped when someone threw the words like NPV or marketing mix!

To some extent, I did figure out what the fuss was about. The fuss is different for different people. For some, it was an opportunity to be a kid again and party in a university town, for some others, it was the time to invest in one self. For me, it was to afford a luxury of choice -making an informed choice after seeing a world of possibilities.

As I started the program, many career paths – industries and functions – looked attractive to me. Whole world was my oyster and that world of possibilities was overwhelming to say the least, when not knowing which one to pick.  That’s when my aunt Mary came to my rescue, “I know what you want to do – you want to sell stories. You talk about movies and TV and stories all the time.” That was indeed an epiphany moment. Boeing Engines or hedge funds did not excite me as much as the drama and stories did.

It was easier said than done though. Hollywood was a big world and I did not know where to start. I started the art of networking using my most important asset – telling and selling stories. One thing led to another and I ended up in the heart of Hollywood – NBC Universal – it was indeed one in a million success story  -  from a small part of New Delhi to the entertainment capital of world. Doing market research for the primetime shows was very engaging and learning experience. In fact, to make up for my lack of experience in the industry, I did two unpaid internships – the only MBA student from my class to do that. And serendipities kept happening and upon the end of summer, Matt Farber, the founder of MTV Logo wrote to me, “I am looking for a business development intern for my new venture GWIST TV. Can you suggest someone?”. My reply was, “Look no further!”.   This school year internship gave me ample opportunities to learn and contribute heavily. I effectively used my computer science back ground, my data analytics skills, my passion for technology and my love for content to increase the audience engagement.

As I stand today at the cross roads of past and future, I can’t feel more excited to launch a career at the intersection of technology and content, which is where I believe the growth is. Even if I have some more miles to walk before finding the right job, my business degree has given me the confidence to make the choice of waiting. Till then, I will stay hungry and stay foolish. Cheers class of 2013.

Food, the new sex?

A famous consumer food company conducted a taste test in which subjects were asked to identify the taste of a jelly with their eyes closed. In this test, one more sense was eliminated. Smell.  Subjects’ noses were blocked. No one could get the taste right. In the next round, noses were unblocked and almost everyone could tell if the jelly was sour or sweet or salty.

Eating food is supposed to be a wholesome experience. Like sex. Why do we call someone sensual? Why do we enjoy sex so much? Why does sex make us complete and happy? Because it uses all the five senses. During your most fulfilling sex, you would not be watching Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon or be reading the New York Times while making love.

In this day and age, the twenty some-things are very ambitious. They try to pack in too many activities in twenty four hours because they can’t invent time yet. But it is practically not possible to achieve all that in a day, so they begin multi-tasking, even with food. I, like so many other twenty some-things, eat my Nature Path sunrise crunchy maple and read the IDS campus newspaper together. For different people, everything after the ‘and’ can be replaced by thousands of options including skimming Wall Street Journal or watching The Today Show. For most single twenty some-things, including me, dinners are accompanied with Workaholics or The Office or something to that effect. So often, the meal becomes a secondary activity and the actual accompanying activity becomes the primary one. It almost becomes background music. Your eyes are so fixated on the screen of the device that you don’t admire the colors of food. Your brain is so occupied in the content that you don’t attempt to feel the texture of your toast. Your ears are so busy hearing the voices in the show that you can’t appreciate the subtle sounds that echo when butter melts in your mouth, than only you can hear. In this new lifestyle, how can eating food make you happy?

Why should then food not be the new sex? Why should it not be given the same respect, time and devotion that we give to sex? There are not many activities left that human beings can do every day without feeling sick of it. Since food is one of those things, it should be consumed with complete sensuality to experience a holistic healthy life. Most joys are ephemeral and require lot of efforts. Food, like sex, can give you blissful pleasure everyday.  

Why do we need grades? Or not?

When I was 3 and went to kindergarten, I don’t remember why I studied. When I went to first standard in primary school, I distinctly remember why I studied. To not fail. This continued till I reached standard 6th and without any planning, got rank 1. Well, the boy who used to take that place had left the school. But I was nowhere even in top ten earlier. That was surprising. Like a snake, I had tasted the blood of attention. From no one, I became number one.

Was that a curse? I had pressure to maintain that rank. And who gave me that pressure? I myself. To myself. I continued to finish every grade with rank one until this fish was taken out of the pond and thrown in a sea of bigger school. Where I sucked to begin with. Why do I call that bad? Because psychologically, I formed in my head that not being ranked-one is not cool. What next, I went to a kick ass college and sucked again real bad. Why? I did not get as good grade as my peers got.

What if there was no concept of grades and ranks? Imagine an exam with 10 questions with no points assigned to any question. Should the desire to do all questions right not be enough motivation? Can the discovery of where I made mistakes not be enough feedback? Or for me to study,  reason should be to get grades better than my peer? Should my feedback be the result that I got rank two and not rank one?

Counter theory. We may have academic institutions without grading and comparison system. But how real is that? Once you get out of that school and enter workforce, your performance will be compared with those of your colleagues. That comparison will decide your appraisal. Moreover, in the ‘real’ world, there points and ranks for everything. Every company desires to be the leader or ranked one in the business it operates. So how will not having grades mimic the real world?

Even in the absence of any grade or ranks or marks, considering that example of 10-question exam, we unintentionally create bench mark for comparisons. “I got 3 of them right, how many did you get right?”. Someone hiking Himalayas alone, without the presence of any other human being around will also have a comparative goal in his mind – to hike at least more than what another hiker did who was here before him. Is that the human nature then? His physical presence does not even need to be there for him to create benchmarks of comparisons for others?

If that is the case, how do Montessoris and Waldorfs and Rishi Valleys and Aurovilles of the world succeed in nurturing human beings who are ready to face the real world in spite of having different foundation? A foundation  of grade-less-ness.

Diversity - In Action ?

Diversity in the modern context is often seen as simplistic as having certain number of people at one place from different backgrounds – race, color, culture, gender, sexual orientation. Many work places claim to be diverse because their employee composition represents a reasonable mix of people. Same goes for many organizations around the world. At my school, I noted that we have significant number of international students. So if diversity is to be measured in terms of pie chart and excel tables, we stand pretty high. Yet, I noticed an interesting trend, beginning with class room. White Americans sit with white Americans. Black Americans sit with black Americans. Asians sit with Asians. So goes with Indians. I avoided the risk of committing the fallacy of hasty generalization. So I started observing in social settings – in bars and social events. I could still notice it in varying degrees. Picture decorated Facebook walls are a testimony of this. No amount of forced diversity could fix it. People started appearing as tiny magnets who you can keep separately but as soon as external forces are taken away, pieces get down to their original tendencies and form sub-network. 

I thought hard to explain this trend. One possible line of reasoning was that our average age could be 27. At this age, we are more or less frozen in our preferences, tastes and the kind of company we enjoy. (Although my aunt who is in her 80’s refuses to agree and she maintains that it will be so unfortunate if human beings shut themselves so early in life and that she continues to learn to enjoy the companies of new people every day). With those frozen preferences comes the impatience with dissimilar persons. Is that what we can call the exact opposite of natural affinity or comfort zone? Language would definitely play a role. Many international students might be having lesser proficiency in verbal English. Those who are proficient might not be patient enough to listen slowly and speak slowly with non-native English speakers. There kicks in the ‘matured’ age of 27.

To validate this explanation, I turned my attention to undergraduate students. They range from 18-22. That’s a very malleable age. One would expect that that would be more interactions there. I started by observing just the kids walking around the campus. Interestingly, the degree of association with similar people was less yet observable. I do not have any numbers though to back up any of the observations as none of this has been a controlled experiment. I do however give a solid credit to the power of observation. Whole Buddhism is based on this power. Today, with the power of big data from social media we are coming to the conclusion that happy people attract happy people and depressed people would make associations with other sad people. Eastern philosophies found that back in the day and so did Quantum physics that all matter emits waves and good or bad interactions amongst matter depends on constructive or destructive interference of those waves. Replace matter in that statement by people, and there you go!

Coming back to the validation of the observation in younger demography, I started asking undergrads I would meet in different classes, lectures, talks, bars, streets, bus stations. Question would not be, “Who do you hang out with?”. Question would be, “Since you came to college, amongst the new close buddies you found, how many of them are not from your native culture?”. Answer will be mostly zero.

I do not subscribe to the idea of diversity whose foundation is based on filling in the quotas. And then creating layers of diversity around the buckets through events or forced interactions. This numerically driven diversity often masks the underlying lack of diversity in action – which is attained by gradual annihilation of boundaries of culture and geography. When people manage to make as close human connections with people of different backgrounds as they succeed in making with people of their own back ground, that’s when you get the true foundation of diversity. And then, there will not be humongous need to create affinity clubs and organize events to validate the diversity quotient of the organization at the top level. The decentralized diversity at the level of people to people understanding will itself be the natural catalyst for voluntary celebrations and events.

Question now is how to lift that decentralized number from zero or minimal to a respectable figure. Is it even possible to fight the original forces of natural affinity and comfort zone to create new comfort zones and new affinities ? In my quest for a solution, I ran into this concept of Homophily – tendency of individuals to associate and bond with similar others. Apparently, its presence has been found in a vast array of network studies. But can we not find similarity in values? Does similarity has to be always in what music you like, what sports your play or watch and what food you eat?

My knowledge in cricket, or in most sports or in any music outside Indian classical or Bollywood is minimal. I do not share my interest in cooking, in movies, and in fashion and in few others with a whole lot of people. Yet I can say that my closest friends admire similar things in people as I do. Human values are much above any traditional ‘hobbies’ and ‘interests’. They possibly could be key drives for creating decentralized diversity at a mass level. 

Happy Birth Day - Measure of Happiness

Pattern recognition is my favorite pastime. I am not sure if it is really a pastime, because I do it all the time - consciously or unconsciously. Observing a certain trend in my writings in past few years, I realized that most of them are satire on  society or concerns for unacceptable behavior in society. Today, as I celebrate (really?) or observe another birthday, I felt the need to write something positive. Life does not always offer lemons, I just forget to cherish the taste of honey it brings every now and then in life.

“What makes you happy?”

“What drives you?”

“What has been your biggest accomplishment of MBA program?”

                                                “What has been your significant achievement since your arrival in America?”

These are the questions I face quite frequently. Sometimes interviewers ask. Sometimes friends ask. I live such a packed life that there’s no time to stop and reflect. For questions like, “Hey How’s it going?” , I literally have no answer because there’s no time to actually feel and know how is it actually going. There are times, I would much rather prefer inert greetings like, “shirt is blue” or “Hey, door is big”. But a life without examination is not worth living in long run.  It’s time to jot down.

Observing the pattern in times when I felt happy since the last fall when I arrived, I must say that people make me happy. My eyes just twinkle with excitement when I am able to strike a humorous and engaging conversation with someone. There are couple of reasons for this happiness. I feel that when people find value in what I say and feel entertained, then   I feel  engaged and encouraged to share more.  I get to learn from these people – learning is a big factor for my happiness. When these conversations involve aha moments, I feel so fortunate to have met that person and learned a piece of new knowledge through him. A sense of security comes when I find people who are in many ways similar to me. A sense of accomplishment comes when I manage to find a common ground with someone who is very different from me. My happiness knows no bounds when these people are different from rest of the world and fall in the category of what I call thinkers. I tend to look at these personalities with lot of awe and respect and put them on a pedestal. So the more my bucket of thinkers grow, the more I feel assured about the world and about myself.

People make me happy in other situations too, when I am able to drop my prejudice and manage to go beyond  their first uncomfortable layer and get pleasantly surprised by the person behind the first layer, that’s a very satisfying experience. I not just overcome a challenge but also get to know another thinker! Spending a quality time with person from another country and getting over the initial laziness takes efforts but with that comes the incentive of discovering another country and culture which I may not be able to see in real any time soon.

Is this to say that my happiness depends on others and I tend to give away my locus of happiness to others? Possibly. Let me explore what other things make me happy if I am not with people around.

Use of systems and technology. As mentioned earlier, learning and gaining knowledge is critical to my positive mood. When I travel to a new city like San Francisco and I manage to find ways around, I feel very proud. Figuring out how to use public transport, how to buy tickets from automated machines, how to reach different places, finding  what I want to eat from  a complicated menu, finding out places to go to and things to do that were worth doing or going to – they all make me happy. I must admit, I am not an early adopter of technology many times. Thus breaking away from that initial inertia is quite an achievement for me. I consider myself not excellent with directions. Therefore, getting familiar with locations, remembering the names of streets and doing it all without anyone’s help make me feel happy.

Cooking. Again, learning component drives the joy here too. I did not cook before coming to grad school. Now learning to cook not just complex Indian cooking, but successful experimentation with cuisines of other cultures gives me a sense of attainment. Recently, I started baking and learned how to use an oven. I never imagined that I would be able to cook fish and bake fresh vegetables and consume them in a healthy way instead of deep frying way. Experiences of shopping at Blooming Food, understanding complex pricing structure, going to farmers market are all very exciting. By opening myself to new vegetables like broccoli and basil I feel good about myself. Feeding my guests with  warm food that sends out  aroma and steam is also very satisfying. I can’t wait to go home and show my family these skills and vegetables.

Movies. Zoning out into another world. Experiencing the experiences that I might not be able to see otherwise is a huge joy. It gives me further confidence about my ability to write that dream project I envision. They make me aware of the immense possibilities.

Music. Oh well. Good music becomes  my companion for a long time. Whenever I get exposed to an interesting piece through accident – someone shared that Facebook, or I heard it at someone’s house or party, I get impatient unless I get to hear the full song  alone and then if it passes that litmus test, it becomes my hum tune and enters my running playlist for weeks. It’s not very frequent to find such pieces though.

TV shows. I form a very strong and personal relationship with the characters. They sometimes become more common reference in my real conversations than real people in my life. That’s the extent to which they at times end up impressing me. These shows are not one time transaction like a movie (even a movie also stays with me for good time). The evolution of characters season after season, development of relationships and stories around them and special insights into the lives of real people who play these characters are all not just entertaining, but engaging and educating as well.

Buying. Well, smart and inexpensive buying. Because of constant pattern observation, I easily get bored with same clothes or dressing styles. But as an international grad student, I don’t have lot of money at my disposal to buy stylish clothes frequently. Thankfully, Salvation Army store and others come to my rescue. One big drive of positive mood is discovery of really high end and fashionably diverse clothes at dirt cheap prices. The warm smile and welcoming nature of cashier and attendants in these stores are further bonus. These stores are not humongous and overwhelming so I take my time to find things and finally make good deals.

Discovery. Finding more about the campus, its history and its culture beyond my own grad school gives me more belongingness to the university. Spreading the wings and meeting people from other departments, meeting totally random strangers on bus station or university cinema and striking chords of friendship are quite joyful.

Here’s to another year of discovery, friendships, learning and journey.

Happy Birth Day!

Rules of Communication – redefined?

Last Sunday afternoon, as I finished up my lunch and jumped on Facebook to see if there was any notification from the week I needed to attend before I ended the week, I noticed a friend request on Facebook. Thankfully, Facebook shows the number of common friends you have with the person sending you the friend request. Now, I had never met this gentleman, never had any form of communication so far. Our only connection was that we had common friends. There was no accompanying message as to who he was.

In the past few months, I have been noticing this kind of initiation of communication over many e-channels including LinkedIn, dating apps and website. Emergence  of these new patterns of communication fascinates me, surprises me, irritates me , sometimes cracks me up, and in rare moments, makes me consolidate the thoughts in this form! Let’s dissect them one at a time.

Facebook

We often see that red alert on those blue heads on Facebook from people different spheres of our lives, and sometimes from no sphere of our lives – total stranger. There are times I get request from a first year undergrad student from my Alma mater and our only connection is the common college. There can be an argument - what will someone possibly write in that introductory note that you can’t figure out from his or her Facebook page anyway? But by expecting the receiver to find the information, we are shifting the obligation to seek information on to the receiver. It’s not a power game, it’s not to say that, “Hey you gotta talk to me? You better have a reason” .. no!  but it’s a matter of courtesy. In a conference, where everyone is wearing a name tag, people still go up and say their names while saying Hi (equivalent to Hit “Add Friend” or “Connect”). During our orientation at grad school, one professor told us that one should make such connection requests only after having some exchange, preferably in-person. That line of thought appeared very logical to me. I will be honest here. In the past, I too added people without meeting them, and now looking back, I am not proud of that. But in each of those add requests, I ensured to write something. I often question myself if I got this habit of  expecting introductory note after coming to America, because I do not add people any more without meeting them. Probably the lesson from that professor stuck too hard in my head. But then even while I was in India, prior to this present immersion in American culture, if I would send request to Indians in different cities or non-Indians in different countries, I would send a note along – unless the person of interest is some celebrity, who I would definitely treat differently! Interestingly, I  came across another possible explanation of sudden rise of these unaided friend requests in the recent times – the absence of message box upon clicking “Add Friend”. Earlier, a message box would popup, writing message would be optional though. But since it was right there in front of you, you would not hesitate to write something. But now there’s an extra step. One needs to separately hit on message and send a message after having sent friend request.

LinkedIn

This is a professional networking, a different party from a social networking.  From how I understand LinkedIn, people play in this field to make business contacts, to move ahead in career or business. Thus sending a request with a defined purpose for connection is all the more reasonable. Even here, it’s not rare to see connection requests with default message. At times I see blind connections, from someone with just no immediate or obvious connection. That surprises me. At times I get default requests from people in very senior positions in the companies. That surprises me.

Dating apps and websites

This seems to be a jungle. Anonymity is probably the only rule here. Interestingly, the communication violation here is not as much about creating new relations, as it is about not creating new relations! Such websites do not necessarily have add-friend button. You can favorite others. I do get messages with contents like “Hi”. Or “How are you?”.  Since most people have handle on such apps or messengers or websites, so you don’t necessarily get to know even the name of the other person through these ultra-brief introductory messages.

But the bigger pet peeve comes when I make efforts to go through the potential candidate’s profile and write a message that contains brief information about who I am and some curiosity to know the other person more than what the profile says, and all I get in return is NO REPLY. I was not expecting an I DO from the other side. But the least I would expect is “Thanks for your message, but sorry I am not interested or we are not compatible” . Here I am, waiting for something and after  few days, I figure out the candidate has read the message, visited the profile and chose to observe silence as a reply.  Now, ‘dating experts’ give many plausible explanations for this. One is that people get many messages and it’s a lot of effort to reply to all those messages from the non-matching dating candidates. Well, unless you are a Jessica Alba or Tom Cruise, entire world would not be bombarding you with messages. Another is that people find it hard to write a rejection message because of the fear that it may annoy the other person. Well, ignorance is biggest disdain, bigger than an honest NO. I think they teach in high school or elementary school, to say hello back when someone says hello. I am told that I should not take it personally, because they are dishing out that ignoring response to all anyway. It’s not the rejection that bothers me, it’s the unresponsiveness that irritates me because that is to do with things beyond dating.  

When I think deeply,  I have few questions to ask – have the communication standards gone so low these days? Are introductions considered formalities and no introductions or lack of communication considered casual or the norm?  

My further discussion with few  psychologist friends of mine resulted in realization that I have very exacting standards with myself. If I show up late at an event, I feel as horrible as I would if I had committed some felony. That gets mirrored in my expectations. Probably I need to let myself lose. Wouldn't it be so much easier to simply click “Confirm Friend” on Facebook or “Accept Connection” on LinkedIn or hit the big RED block button on the apps and dating websites upon no response after a week than spending time on thinking why communication in this day and age taking this form of shape that I am unable to fathom? 

Health Passport - Can it check STDs and STIs ?

While boarding my flight to Chicago, I was asked to show my passport. Your credentials are checked before you enter a new country. Your credentials are checked before entering so many places – bars, discotheques, private parties, conferences, airplanes, concerts. But has anyone asked you for your credential when you enter the most private party – the bed?

Hookups, one night stands, flings – call them what you please. Before getting into them, how often do we make sure that other person is healthy and fit for entering into this party? By making sure, I do not mean asking, “Hey, you are –ve, right?” or “You get tested regularly, do you?” and then believing her or him. By making sure, I mean literally verifying some kind of document that certifies that other person is fit for having physical person relationship  with another healthy person and if not, what precautions need to be observed while getting into physical union.

This brought me to think of a health card or health passport, that mentions my HIV and other STI/ STD status. A card that needs to be renewed every six months. A small passport that fits into wallet or purse. A card that is issued by government health agencies free of cost. A card that would be private property of  a person and no agency – private or public - could ask for it. All information would be strictly confidential with that person, unless she or he voluntarily shares.

Questions about plausibility of this idea.  Can it be an effective solution to check STDs and STIs ? When you meet someone in a bar and after many drinks, if you get cozy with someone, would you stop and check her/his health passport? When such a program is launched, folks won’t sign up for it overnight and people won’t get tested and certified in no time. So will men and women have patience? Is such a card relevant to people of all sexual orientation? Will it also be relevant to the physical reunions that  place after few dates and days of platonic interactions and not on first meeting or through a sex website or mobile app. You already know quite a lot about the other person – his/her family, education back grounds, likes and dislikes. So would it be appropriate to ask for her/his health passport before moving  the transactions from platonic to carnal?

Comments invited!

OTT - One Time Transaction

“Umm Hi, does the train to North Hollywood come on this platform?”, I asked after scanning the woman for two minutes and felt that she might be worth beginning a friendship with.

“Yes, the next train goes there.”, she said without knowing that I had been taking that train every day for a month now. But then I did not find any hook in her to hook on to. There was nothing special in what she was wearing that I could begin talking about. She wasn’t reading any book I could begin conversation about. So I had to begin with the lamest one. I use different ways to open the channel. In some languages these are called ‘pick up lines’. But romantic inclinations are not the only ones I have when I do this. When I can’t think of any, I use the simplest one – “Hi, My name is Rajeev.” Many people in many bars in many cities might have met me saying that. Some people are willing to talk further, some aren’t.

We started talking. I liked the fact that she was doing web analytics and her undergrad major was Mathematics. She needed to get down on the next station.

“How do I get in touch with you again? You got some email id or something”, I asked frantically as the train screeched into the station. Always better to ask email id than mobile number. You enter way too much into the life of someone by accessing mobile number, especially in the big modern cities, where people are highly conscious about their personal lives. Email id is far less innocuous and you are seen much less aggressive. But now, there was not much time left even for the exchange of email id.

“I am sorry, I need to change my train at this station. Can you step out quickly and note my email?”
I was torn. If I exit this train, the next train does not come for another 10 minutes. If I don’t, I may never see her again. It was Sophie’s choice! Trains come and go. But good friends in a new city are hard to find.

“Sure!”

I noted her email id and saw the woman and the train moving in opposite directions leaving me alone on the station. I did not wait to reach my work to email her. As soon as I got out of the metro station, I started receiving signal reception on phone and I wrote a quick email to her. We met the same evening after the work. I really enjoyed her company. She wasn’t bimbo, she was a thinker.

A WEEK EARLIER, SAME STATION, ALMOST SAME TIME

A young man wearing skinny jeans (like most guys in LA), was holding sneakers in the hands, while he waited for the train. I got my hook –curiosity about why he was not wearing those sneakers.
“Are you going to work with those sneakers in your hands?”

“How can I go to work like this, even my hair is not done! I am going to gym.”

“But why don’t you wear those sneakers instead of keeping them in your hands? ”

“Oh I am just returning from work, I had a night shift. So I will go to gym and change into running clothes”

We broke into conversation. This person also needed to change trains at next station, so we quickly exchanged emails. I met him two days later. He was little aloof but had interesting world view.

OTT - Defined

I met many men and women in this city - at train stations, inside the metro’s, in coffee houses at restaurants. Invariably, I would be the one to make first attempt to go up to them and say Hello. I would exchange contact information because first interaction would be quite impressive and I would be curious to know more about them. Afterwards, I would be the first one to touch base via email or text. When we would meet for first proper meeting, I would really enjoy their company and they would too, no wonder they would offer their email or phone number in the first place and would actually meet for an hour or more afterwards. But I hardly get to see them again. In spite of the fact that we have great time exchanging thoughts, the meeting became ONE TIME TRANSACTION. They all told that they looked forward to see me again. I am very sure they meant that. They were all well-meaning people. But after first coffee or dinner or walk, they would not be the ones to text or email or call another time to say, “Hey you wanna hang out again?”. Again, I would be the one to first do that and would get warm declining replies of types -

"Just got home from work. Lounging for a bit, then hangin with my cousin. Wish you had texted me earlier! I totally would have come by after work."

                                                                  "Yeah on phone with my brother"

                            "Walking home, looking to purchase drinking water."

"Just leaving work. I'm having people over for drinks this evening then going to a gallery where I have some art showing, if you want to join."
              
                              "Yo Rajeev, I'm going to the Cumbia thing at music center plaza in a little bit. Come check it out. :) might go to a party later. Might just chill. What are you up to? "

"Hey. I'm gonna meet with my cousin and nephews. They came from Mexico"

                        "Here working and you?"

                                                      "Sorry my friend I won't be home this evening. Monday?"

"Cleaning my house, what about you?"

All of the above are the replies of friends I reached out on the past Friday evening - a social experiment I often do on Friday evenings. I spent an hour texting all people I could think of in downtown LA. I understand that all of the above were real genuine reasons for us not being able to meet that evening. Moreover, with busy and conflicting schedules, prior appointments in Outlook Calendars are perhaps more practical.

As I reflect on the past month I spent in LA or the past year I spent in USA, I am filled with questions. Why in the past one year, very rarely or probably never someone came up to me and said HI? Could it be my appearances or my Indian color? But then, after the first effort from my side, things would go very smoothly. So it should be safe to assume that they liked me. Still I feel exhausted of chasing people in 360 degrees. I don’t even know what it feels like to be chased. As I dig deep, I realize that I am new – to the city and to the country. And I am the one who is alone. These wonderful people already had families, friends, career and jobs before they crossed my path. So in the universe of each of them, I am nothing but an asteroid. But in my solar system, if I am the sun, these people are important planets of mine. It is my issue that I they occupy a big share of my mind and I don’t in their minds.

Another explanation, at least for Los Angeles, is that this city is full of struggling artists. So most people who I meet are working many jobs to pay their bills and fees for their head shots or acting classes or other recipes for the success with their art. But then I am doing two internships. Back in Indiana, I go through a very demanding academic program so I am not any less busy. Yet, when it comes to different obligations competing for my priority, meeting people seems to cut the line and show up at the front of the queue. Should that mean I am less focused on career? I don’t know. May be. In that case these other one time friends might be considered much more ambitious and career driven?

How people make new friends or get new dates and continue to hold on to them is still a mystery to me. I live on a very hip Street of Downtown LA. The Spring street. Every time I look out of the window of my 8th floor apartment, I see people – in pairs and in groups walking on streets, sharing jokes, holding hands, kicking each other. When I walk around in the neighborhood, I see people smoking, drinking and eating on the patios of bars and restaurants. These people-watch experiences raise the same questions in my mind – how these people might have met and how they hang out together time and again. But who knows, they are also having their OTTs – One Time Transactions.
So many onlookers might have felt the same when I had my OTT with people.

Often people say that their favorite past time is ‘hanging out with friends’. Or people ask, ‘who do you hang out with?’. I think the new mantra is, “Oh with myself!” . Hanging out with oneself lowers expectations. One becomes fan of his own company. If today I had not decided to enjoy my own company, I possibly could not have written out this post. As I sign off, I accept the new reality that people are super mobile and busy. In the modern times, texting is much more preferred that vocal communication between humans. As a first step to this acceptance after waiting for another hour of that social experiment and finding no positive reply, I decide to run – my favorite hanging out activity. When I run, I feel the entire city is with me.

PS: It was a co-incidence that someone shared this article around the same time when I was writing this piece     -        http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/15/fashion/the-challenge-of-making-friends-as-an-adult.html?pagewanted=2&_r=2

LA DIARIES - Prologue

The need to share, a very basic need. The first inventor of social media probably foresaw this need very earlier. When an incident happens in my life, that is amusing, or that makes me stop and think or that throws a big surprise for me, I get an intense desire to share. Generally through one-one communication. Individually with few people, even if the content of communication is broadly the same. At other times, I would email, suitably customizing the content for each individual audience. Off late, I realized that the process is quite exhausting. Moreover, phone communication with people takes out the exuberance exponentially with every new call if the conversation is about the same subject – like how I like my new work or how lovely is my new apartment. And I am a man of words, so sharing with sea of humanity in few words is generally not my thing, forget about 140 characters of twitter!

Since I started this journey into this City of Angels – LA, I wrote to couple of people, spoke with another bunch of friends about the surprisingly wonderful apartment I secured in the heart of city, city events I attended. But I found myself not enjoying those conversation after a while. For each audience, it was new, but for me, it was repetition, nth time. So I decided to hang out with myself. Spend time with myself and let those ideas come out and document them for myself, without customization. Having that those thought pieces stitched together and sharing them to a broad audience, will release me from my self-imposed obligation to do individual communication. After that, I can read the responses, if any, at my own convenience. With this alternate arrangement, while I offload my stress, I also loose the spark of live individual responses on phone or customized responses on email. That’s a tradeoff I chose. For some time now.

PS:

I call myself a blogger. Last blog I posted was ages back. I call myself a writer. I haven’t been able to outline the three acts of my film yet, and have been thinking of this script ever since I started falling in love in Bloomington. With lot of introspection and with my brain’s favorite pastime of pattern recognition, I have figured out the reasons for this gap in my writing. First, I think of multiple tings when I am trying to write. For instance, while writing about problem about writing, when I typed the word “First” above, I started thinking about why have I started writing in this structure form of “First, .. Second,… Finally..” as if I am writing a response to a GMAT essay question. No wonder in the first two paragraphs of a blog I had set out to write as LA Diaries, not even a word was about Los Angeles. I started getting caught up by so many other distracting thoughts with every word I hammered out of my key board. A co-writer yesterday refered to this as the devil editor in a writer's brain. Second, I think of the audience. I place even myself in the audience and begin criticizing the half-baked sentences most mercilessly and all my energy starts eroding. I myself don’t find them interesting and I wonder why anyone would want to know how I think about a Mexican woman selling pancakes on 5th and Broadway. Then I stop writing about that Mexican woman. But next day when I see that Mexican woman again, I still feel the rush of propensity to write about her. It’s like sex - after doing it, I feel guilty and decide not to do it again. But then few hours later, when I walks down the street for a coffee, I can’t help notice the attractive people on streets.

Confessions of a random stranger

Unpublished stories are the most original and honest ones

Friday Failures

Last night when I went out, I did not have quantity time, as I started pretty late, but spent quality time with interesting folks. Consequently, I slept at reasonable hour of 1:30 hoping I will get up on time this morning to attend my GA work. Day started with crap.

Alarm I had set was for pm and not am. For a 9AM meeting with GA supervisor, I got up at 8:45. First thing I did, shot an email to supervisor that I will be in by 9:30. With tooth brush in mouth, I frantically shoved things in microwave. Gathered stuff in my swimming bag hoping that after day ends with Finance lecture, I would conclude the day with nice swim. With water still dripping out my hair after super-fast shower, I gathered suits to drop at drycleaner’s for Monday morning interview.

The guy at Dry Cleaner’s told me that he won’t be able to deliver before Monday evening as they did not work on weekends. (I think I should show him my EMA assignments - 4 pages, single spaced, 2 points will be deducted per day WEEKENDS INCLUDED ) He told this with frozen face (that I felt like punching at that moment) – no words of apology. Of course, it wasn’t his fault so why should he be sorry for. But I was already in a mess, running late for meeting, and then I heard No’s, so little sensitiveness was expected here. There was nothing he could do now, except that I told him to just iron if not dry-clean and he charged me the same amount.

After I finish my GA work, only reason for me to hang around was that finance lecture on effect of European crisis on US markets. I marked this in calendar to educate myself better, but it turned out to be so intense that I struggled to keep myself awake even for 5 minutes. I ran away from there during Q n A to hit swimming pool.
While the pretty undergrads at sports center scanned my card, I asked them if the pool was open. Hearing yes, I moved to locker room. I didn’t know what was wrong today, all lockers were full and only today I had humongous belongings and struggled to find THREE lockers to fit the shit in. Getting down to just undergarments, starting from layers of clothes on this cold day was quite an effort. As I immersed myself now in pool to let my miseries of the day drown in chlorine water and had barely swum 7 feet when I heard, “Excuse me sir”. A woman told me that pool was not open for common students for another hour. Really? You telling me now after I am wet in damn chlorine from head to toe?

That was all swimming – 30 seconds in pool. Took the pain to put the layers on again and boarded the bus to come home finally. On the door I see the notice that the two bags I had lost in transit from New Delhi to Bloomington have been found and delivered to society office. Earlier in the day, my close buddy had asked for the presents I was supposed to bring for him and I was excited to open the bags and get him his present. So I run to society office - very excited – to see the bags. Society office was closed – “Woodbridge office is closed today for special staff training”. Bite me.

Oh it did not end here. I thought it was that's why I hit the button PUBLISH POST. Later in the night I was very alone, my room mate also had gone to New York. So I decided to go out by myself. After taking shower and dressing up, when I stepped out of apartment, I slipped and fell on my butt. My first reaction was to look around. There were people standing and I was on the slippery ground flat. No one bothered to say or do anything. I was shocked. I pulled my self up went back to apartment, turned of the lights and called it a day.
PS:
I wish I were a dog

For a life that was born not conformist

He has a heart that feels

He has a brain that thinks

There is blood that flows in his veins

There is life in him, and he breathes

How can you ridicule him for

Things he never asked for.

Things he was born with.

Things he can’t change.

How can dating translate into love?

Love at first sight? Second sight? Third sight? How these loves happen is beyond me. You have hardly known that person, and you say that you have fell in love with that person?

Similarly, the whole concept of dating culminating into love is something very incomprehensible to me. When you date someone, from the beginning, you have a fixed agenda of sex or date or finding a girl friend or boyfriend in the other person. There is no room for friendship.

Now let’s consider friendship. Imagine a relationship that starts as friendship. You meet this person because you happen to be in same place at same time. No body planned this first meeting. No one set you up with this person. Neither of you two fixed this first meeting. You become friends because circumstance forced you to be together for a common project or team work because you worked in same team at work or because you study in same class at school. Since you two tend to spend lot of time together, you get to know each other very well. You become familiar with every small thing of that person. After this close friendship, what else is left? LOVE? This love happens very unconsciously. You don’t even realize when this one happens. You begin to feel this when she is out of your life for some time. Because you had become addicted to her company and her presence in your life.

Now where in dating or love at different sights you would find this form of love? The love evolved from close friendship is rather purer – it does not even involve looks – good or bad. Who makes friends because of looks? In the dates on the other hand, you tend to pick up only a hot date. You also try to dress real nice and take shower and comb your hair at least that day.

Can business school make you less romantic?

All kinds of people would ask you why you came to business school? First, admission officers. When you make it to school, your classmates. Few months later, your career coaches. At a later time, your recruiters. And of course all through your journey, your friends and acquaintances. I too have been asked the same question. And I dislike monotony. I find it tiring to say the same story. There have been times when I would say, “Every one else has been going to b-school, I just wanted to know what the fuss was about?”. That’s an influence of over dose of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Phoebe once kissed Rachel to know what the fuss was about!

Of the many reasons, I had a strong and genuine one too, to come to school. In the films and popular culture, I had seen business folks are more capitalist, less emotional, not very romantic, more problem solving. Didn’t that businessman called Ambani marry his wife for securing capital to expand and establish his business? Didn’t many rulers marry the princess of other kingdoms to expand their empire? A wall street invest banker busting his ass for 11 hours a day – where will he find time to write poetry or think about his love? I wanted to be a business czar. Running an empire. Like God Father’s Michael Corleone. I really expected my heart to turn into stone by studying finance and private equity. So that 10 years later, when I am blowing a cigar and enjoying my scotch in Calvisius Caviar Lounge in Four Seasons, some hot woman would come , sit next to me, run her deep-red-nail-painted finger down my face and say, “You can’t be so cold, you must have a lot hidden in you”. That could have been perfect way to fast forward 10 years without any emotional baggage or romantic hassles in between.

Damn! That did not happen. Why do I just nod along with a class mate when he talks of sales he increased in his job at Toyota Motors before coming to business school, but my eyes brighten up and moist up out of excitement when he narrates me the time during his high school when he killed a summer in Panama or when he made money while polishing boots and landscaping gardens of neighbors? Why I imagine my classmate attending his hens in a pristine farm instead of understanding the strategy he employs in his poultry business? While attending accounting class, I still marvel at the terrific sense of humor of the professor instead of focusing on accounting ratios. Listening to Turkish professor in Finance class, I am teleported to Istanbul and I lose myself in imagining her journey from Istanbul to New York and in filming that professor in my version of Serendipity, instead of estimating the NPV of money I could make after business school, if only I had kept my senses inside the class. Why would I think of Miranda Priestly in marketing class instead of estimating net market share? So what if professor reminds me of her. Many people in the world have similarities. But so what? Why I have to extend those thoughts?

Why did have to fall in inaccessible love…… Again? Why is it so hard to fall in love with money and career and power? Or with objects like Chair or truck, that you can go ahead and buy and keep with you, till you fall out of love. Why am I writing this instead of making CAR statements and getting my suit ready for blowing away the mind of first recruiter tomorrow? Instead of using my once-upon-a-time genius brain to make it big in this land of opportunity called USA, am I turning into Nikolai Gogol, who could not be understood by anyone, and least of all – by himself? Why am I writing like Sarah Jessica Parker, with answer-less questions?

I saw this country, its people, its culture only in cinema. And in books. Now I see those characters live – all around me. Imagine someone who watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S all his life, is suddenly air-dropped in the Central Perk amidst Joe and Monica and others . Why would he not be overwhelmed! But I did not see this ever coming.. I was on my way to become Godfather, while deciding to attend business school.

I should have rather joined defense forces instead of business school to cure the broken heart and wandering mind!

Temporary liberation through unplugging

This winter break was rather a very short one. Probably little over two weeks. But like my buddy’s time at home on thanksgiving, my time was non-stop. I was always onto something – meet family X, call person Y and catch up with friend Z, purchase B, get done the task C. If not anything, spend time on Facebook and emails and watching movies. Not that I disliked any of these (well … some of them), I wouldn’t have done these in that case. But I never got time to think. I never got time to spend with myself. Even though I love being with people I love and I keep on saying that I am not a big fan of my own company, but now I realize how much I can be happy and creative and productive, when I am left alone! Alone also means no internet either – just me and my solitude.

What do I do when I need that time and space to think? Head to mountains! I didn’t have the luxury of time to go to Himalayas. Plus that would have taken long travel time and my own company would have haunted me then. I decided to visit my uncle ji in Dehradun – not Himalayas , but their foot hills! 12 hours of comfortable to-and-fro train journey and 4 hours of company of a wonderful friend Fakru and my uncle ji.

Considering the non-stop days of break so far, I felt liberated in this journey. In fact I am in the process of liberation right now, as I write this aboard Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi. 5 months of stay in US has given me some identity crisis which I had felt strongly many times in last two weeks in Delhi. Listening to Swades song and jogging, I would hardly feel that dramatic overwhelming sensation. I never was anyway big fan of Indian cities.

Now, sitting by the huge window of train, sipping the lovely scenery outside, I am feeling connected back to my interpretation of India. Passengers of non-Shatabdi train moving parallel to us, marveling at me and my train. I used to be them few years back. The multi-lingual boards of stations reading Deoband in Urdu, English and Hindi. The bundled up people on unsheltered platform.. slowly waking up to the morning after their last night’s slumber under cold winter sky. The raw unaltered natural beauty of Indian greens. I am writing, scripting, directing and producing my own film. And watching it too. And all this Just in Time! I can chose not to write whatever is not adding to the aesthetics of this lovely journey. I am changing the script the way I want. Soundtrack is of my choice. Well I am only listening to Discovery of India for last 2 hours. Through this song, a woman called India, is waking up from sleep and giving out a call to return to Country. And the film non-cyclical. Every scene , every station , every crop field is new. I am sipping the fog covered forests and rivers and fields. Actually, that crazy song peelun peelun, might actually fit more here. I am enjoying every sip of this experience. I noticed that I was smiling all this while. Non-stop!

Fog is not ready to disappear. No matter how much I get away from Delhi, fog is walking with me. Like I did not see sunrise when I was going to Chicago from Delhi for the first time. Every time I opened the window, I would see darkness flying with me.


There were some new and interesting things inside the train too! Train is much more spacious and cleaner. There were sliding doors. There was toilet paper in restroom! When I took my seat, I was thirsty. I wish I could ring a bell like in flight and request for water. What’s the harm in having an airhostess or air-host in a train! There were transparent overhead cabins for placing luggage. You can always look up and reassure yourself that your bag is there. I didn’t use that though , because I needed to dig my bag often and didn’t want bug my co-passenger. But this looked fancy, probably planes may also consider having them. I never saw waiter in train asking for tip. Tip in Shatabdi—holy shit! It’s like a moving restaurant!!! Am I friggin travelin in Palace on Wheels!! And I actually ended up tossin a 10! Well I was pleased with his service too. Plus I wanted to know what it would feel like if I do that in a train!

Now folks inside train. I was intrigued by my ability to establish an unspoken and unexpressed relationship with co-passengers. I just met them.. well not even met them, hardly spoke a word with them, except when I needed to get out and pee and I would request co-passenger in hardly audible words, but mostly through gestures to move and let me out. In spite of this absence of any dialogue or sharing of anything, I felt my decisions and actions and thoughts were influenced by them - when I would make choice of vegetarian or non-vegetarian food, when I would make choice of newspaper and when I am writing all this. Not that influence was very heavy and factor in them before making any choice or doing some action, but they do enter in my head, albeit briefly. I try to assess their background, occupation. Which I don’t want to. But probably one does tend to think. Even when one sees a leaf or an apple. At the same time, there is lot of indifference too. I can write my journal entries without feeling conscious or concerns about privacy intrusion. And would otherwise keep my personal diaries deeply and strictly guarded.

And did I mention the computerized-digital-waitlist-reservation-display on the platform?

Economics of Emotions at London Heathrow

Will India produce something as original, as proud and as ever-relevant as Kamasutra again?

Today Economic Times released the list of best business schools in India and they called the list “India’s Ivy League”. Media refers to even an ancient Indian ruler as India’s Alexander. When a film on homosexuality is made here, they call it India’s answer to Broke-back Mountain. We make North Eye in Noida to present to the world India’s London Eye! Today, while writing about IIM Ahmadabad, they mentioned in the pros of the 50 year old school that its curriculum is modeled on Harvard Business School.

After 50 years, IIMA’s syllabus is still based on HBS, and we are proud of that? And we are counting that as a reason for placing IIMA on the top of ‘India’s Ivy League’? And why can they just not be India’s premier schools, why Ivy League? After so many years, can English literature grads serving as editors and journalists think of nothing but Ivy Leagues to convey the meaning of elitist schools? Are their creativity and vocabulary so limited? Even after 60 years of independence, do media and India’s crappy journalists want us to continue giving answers to the West’s people, buildings, institutes etc.?

When we talk of India’s glory, we often talk of ZERO that Aryabhatt discovered. But what after that? No, we are better off sitting on our historical achievements.
When exactly shall we make original things again and call them original too instead of India’s answer to America or Japan or France?

I strongly believe that one thing that was discovered in the past and is still relevant is Kamasutra. Countries around the world try and answer us. Hungarian Kamasutra. Japan’s answer to Kamasutra. Swedish Kamasutra.

When will make another such relevant achievement so that news papers get something better to write?

Well till then, Hail Kamasutra.