An argument for love…

I play squash. I obsess about it. I train. I play. I wake up mornings and play till its time to go to work. I spend money on court fees, racquets and gear. Money which should rightfully be spent on more productive things or earn a sensible interest in a bank account. I have no idea why I do this. I am not particularly good at it. I am not quick enough on my feet,my head isn’t still and my reflexes are slow.

And I think its okay.

I do it cos I enjoy it. I enjoy learning about it. On days I can’t find a partner, I go and knock the ball on the wall. On good days, the ball will fly sweetly off my racquet armed with a pace and a direction I don’t remember giving it. I like working at it and getting better, bit by bit. It’s a better other people don’t see. I do and that’s enough. It’s not a better nearly enough but the fact that I it is better wakes me up on cold mornings.

Some day I’ll play with the gift so many people seem to have – moving with languid ease and have the ball sing off my racquet. That day is seven years away, give or take a day.

And that’s okay.

A man and his vegetables

I don't know about you, sir, but I really think vegetables should know their place in life. 

(if you are south indian or a vegetarian or a woman or varying combinations of those, I think you will avoid yourself a lot of angst by skipping to other sections of this wonderful site.) 

I don't know what it is about vegetables of late, but really it seems they are fashionably in focus - a manner that is unbecoming and not dissimilar to the whole media obsession with the role of the minor spinning allrounder in the Indian cricket team. 

It is ridiculous - no matter what food article or culinary blog you read  -you cannot but avoid long flowery (excuse me) references - its either wonderfully leafy this or fibre-rich, green that or lovely juicy tomatoes or flavorful gherkins ..good grief.   in 

Try it - go see some food content - this salmon recipe from the Aussie Masterchef   - a line in here goes  - Potatoes and cucumber salad make delicious accompaniments to the honey mustard salmon"  - Eh? Potatoes?) or Eatopia's headline for chicken soup  - "Chicken Shorba is a light, clear, flavorful broth, infused with Indian spices and herbs." infused with spices and herbs - where's the damn meat eh? 

My lovely wife insists on making Thai curry with massive chunks of tasteless capsicum - ruining a perfectly good meaty curry- my poor mouth gets shocked every time it expects a nice tangy fish bite or a biteful of lamb dripping fats and flavours and finds the give of a bland chunk of capsicum in its stead. Its like watching the pipsqueak Rahane come out to bad at 45/2 instead of the masterful Tendulkar. 

If you ask me -and no one does, sadly - the ideal place for these fellows is to not jostle with the kingly meats for buds and attention, and instead bring up the rear of the dish - make up a nice, unintrusive base, add some crunch here and there to bring out the contrast to the rich, luscious flavor of the meat. Any thing more - I still shudder at that capsicous memory - imagine a horrific potato that dwarfing a nifty cut of lamb in a bengali jhol - that leaves enough scars to keep three shrinks in the gravy (excuse me) for life. 

Now, don't get me wrong - veggies are good, necessary even - those are dues you must pay if you want to revel in the sensous pleasures of the flesh - but really that's about it. Any meal north of eleven am has got to be an organized place, with the rank and file in, you know, rank and file! So make sure you run a tight galley when you are dealing with these infernal fellow - cut them down to size even, and let's have some pomp and ceremony in that delightful chicken curry you are making for your friends or that lovely lamb Rindang you plan to unleash on your in-laws. 

SD

“China Jaayega?”

the two words that started my love affair with SD -  a raucous, good-looking Bengaali  - and one of the most insightful men I ever met. These words are mostly unremarkable in today’s world of globe trotting companies and individuals, but miraculous said as they were, to a callow 22 year old lab scientist over the day's second goldflake and cup of tea in an dusty industrial suburb of Bangalore in early 1999…. The proposition representing a small company’s international ambition with a budget in the 100s of dollars rather than the buffered millions we speak of today….

Whether it was raw potential or budget constraints .. we never ended up discussing… SD always made me believe it was the former. He introduced me as a prized talent in meetings with our competitors and partners… companies ten times bigger than we were, sent me on hundreds of days on travel costing scarce dollars in the bylanes of Asia ...dollars that needed him to justify every penny of that expense (in a company that would have preferred its employees work for free). Always with a smile and boundless faith ….. with results and jobs uncertain….I heard later that he went to the dispatch dock and choked up when he saw a 16 MT container being loaded with my first sale to a customer in Guangzhou…. the fact it meant so much to him...that we were managing to survive.. told me that his faith could not have come without some fear. 

SD encourages dissent - especially passionate dissent. He looks at you with an animated expression when you speak...its the passion that's making him curious... in moments like this it seems he is wanting to understand your very soul.... he's reading a thousand things about you... testing different theories about you in his head.... fitting them in with people he's met before... he's tireless in his curiosity... and expressive in his amazement and surprise at your thinking. It makes you reach deeper ...think harder and express more....stringing little thoughts together....into a bigger and bigger thought.... incredibly indian in its to and froing..with its animated 'absolutely's' and "of totally'' ....its an energy filled frenzy even about arcane concepts like business and "dhanda" .... ending in an expression filled orgasm of insight and conclusion. 

SD learned his life lessons I think as a teenager…. Selling movie tickets in black to buy booze and smokes….well down a path no self respecting middle class Indian boy ought to go….. but ended up developing a rare love of humanity in all its forms. I do mean all its forms. This father of two lovely boys and husband to an incredibly beautiful wife he kidnapped when he was 23, shares his joie raucously. He throws his heart, home and family open to all….. His wife V plied us with home cooked food and intensely intellectual conversation… both of them dissecting your quaint personality with insight and finesse and laughter…. open with their attitude…. All the while deprecating of any praise coming their way…secure in their world and knowledge of themselves.  Even today as I write this, I feel almost treacherous… talking about a relationship that we have referred to in joyous mostly unsentimental terms.

I didn’t hear a word of criticism in the four magical years I spent with SD…. Not even when he made write a business email to a customer for an entire day, dissecting every word.... nudging me from self involved flowery to the useful…gently… ever so gently. I have seen SD transform people like this …. people drained of verve by a harsh life …from cynical jaded view to one of enthusiasm and possibility. 

I have no idea what lies behind this…he still remains one of the most enigmatic people I’ll ever know…. Whether it was his unconventional teenage years in  Shillong….or ten years in Mumbai of the 80's in what I am sure must have been a culture shock for 19 year old from the east…but this I do know – He does it with love of people…one from incredible faith and amazement at what they can do… its clear eyed and objective yet unconditional… I think its that faith from people like SD which makes people assess themselves objectively…harshly even…creating a hunger that pushes you to do better for yourself. SD and V make me question a thousand times in the ten years since..  … how much can you love humanity? with all its quirks and failings .... can you truly love it? 

If you want to change lives, start... start with one. 

Is your dream good for you?

If you, like me,  have spent much time in the late eighties  and nineties's brought up on a steady diet of stories like Roger Bannister or phrases like 'burning the midnight oil' , you probably have this Victorian affliction of believing that incredible success comes with incredible hard work. 

Malcolm Gladwell weighed in and estimated this effort to be about 10,000 hours of rigorous work and a couple of Texas sized oil wells.  But here is the thing - how do I know if I want to put in those 10000 hours? How do I know if I do, I will be successful and happy? (See what I did there? managed to sneak that happiness bit in? I am clever like that but more about that later.) 

Let's back up a little bit. Let's think about the time when we were sixteen (if you are sixteen and are reading this, you are incredibly lucky - I wish I had the internet around when I was 16) and had a Dream - to be a dashing fighter pilot with a Clark Gable moustache.  Or an sultry actress wrapped in intrigue and mystery. Or an artist. well..you know.. The Dream.

Most of us are romantic about our dreams - we have the dream that we do because something about the dream appeals to our soul in a deep, stirring way. 

For some its a clever turn of language and the imagination that's the style and world of a Terry Pratchett, the speed and instincts of a MIG fighter pilot reacting in split seconds, the rush of flying a machine that's faster than sound and sleeker than light. For some, its the sheer mystique of a Madhubala or the ability to make millions believe or lust. Warren Buffett as a benevolent and genius investor is the substance of (some) dreams. Roger Federer makes me fall in love with him a little every time I see him describe delicate arcs to carve out winners of breathtaking finesse. 

I think that romance is incredibly important - its what wakes you up and puts you to sleep - sometimes its just pride in yourself and your ability to 'do' and 'be', sometimes its a faraway dream, but there's romance in that dream. That romance is fuel. it is energy. 

There's a way of getting to that dream - and for the luckier ones, we actually find the way - what do you actually do for every minute of those 10,000 hours to get you to that dream - the 'process' of getting to that dream. For anyone wanting to be like Roger Federer, its countless hours of training, hitting a shot thousands of times a day to get that effortless arc right, thinking about small things like racquet weight and grip, wrist position and sugar levels - you know, the process? For Pratchett fans, its possibly less about being clever with word play than about being very meticulous with the piecing together of many little sub-plots, taking great care that they add to create a delightful little story, thinking and being emotional about real issues about humanity and weaving them in a way that delights but provokes as well - and then maybe the sharp phrasing - the style- kicks in. 

I wish I knew more about these and other dreams to talk about the process of these dreams - but what I really want to ask is - are we in love with the process?

I have seen many many people be incredibly successful - quite a few in that grim, stone-faced, chin up martyr kind of manner - but people I have seen successful and happy - those have been the ones who love the process - loved it and lived it with verve and energy - fought it, engaged with it , maybe even changed it. 

That six pack - probably has a better chance of happening if you love 'being' fit and enjoy testing the limits of your body - that business brainwave - probably will remain that unless you love and enjoy the journey of putting together a team and the processes of delivering that value to your customer. That stand-up comedian in you - to let her out, you have got to be in love with life's eccentricities a little and enjoy framing that , you know? 

And I think that's the real test of your dream - a dream that goes beyond the infatuation of imagery and glitter - and lets you find love in the process. 

And sometimes, just ever so often, a love so true that the dream doesn't even matter.