An ode to my inspiration

He called and my eyes cried! 

Miles afar he lives, teaches and works

He sows words with intentions divine

And plants ideas unashamedly pure

Urges one and all with his stoic might

To get up and follow their hearts;

He called and my eyes cried!

Took me minutes long to calm my nerves

As I held the mobile tight until my palm sweat

Pressed it hard against my ears to hear him close

I tried in vain to quench the quiver in my voice

While he soothingly spoke at the other end;

He called and my eyes cried

Words of praise I heard in my ears

And each syllable of advice I hung to raptly

While I made attempts to behave mannerly

Then a casual-sounding query sapped my nerves

For that was proof he understood my words;

He called and my eyes cried!

I had yearned to speak to him, to meet him once

The innumerable times I devoured his works

And when I send across my first book to him

I prayed he finds time to take a look

I was sure he would write to me

But

He called.

And my eyes cried!

It is MY birthday!

So what do you do when you are tossed a knife and told 'hack it'. Well, I played the hacker to perfection because the scene was purportedly staged in my honour. This after I had pleaded not to be ordered to the front line.

Indeed, it was a battle for me. It consumed some decent nerves to subside that ugly feeling that brewed up within. And a dozen more to hold that 'gratitude' smile measuredly on my lips until the antiphony (ostentatiously termed ceremony) was over.

My workplace mates 'celebrated' my birthday! An event that was adhoc, succinct and formally informal.

A five-minute break was announced. People ushered into the conference room, box of cake opened, plates placed and my name called. I made a cut. Did I hear a birthday song amid the cacophony of bitly exchanges of gossipy juices? Allow me to give colleagues the benefit of doubt. Heads counted, pieces sliced and passed around. As they got, so they turned back akin to dolphins after an act.

Did anyone wish the birthday girl? I was holding the knife so how could anyone have shaken my hand? I am responsible.

"You took the date off Facebook!" "You never told you were next." Accusations followed as I made my way to the desk.

"Last week's cake was real wow, man!" "Yeah, I loved that." "This is fresh." "Any one for this piece of orange"... I overheard as I made an attempt to etch the event so I could recall it to my two loved ones back home in the evening.

One of them tagged the pictures taken on my Facebook, and that served a reminder for my 'friends'. Within minutes 'Likes' were clicked and 'Wishes' poured beneath my face.

The following day, other late-wakers followed... "a day late...happy birthday...even if u keep quiet u can't hide the fact that u r getting old:-) [I learnt another socially-accepted girly reason to explain why I don't like announcing my birth date]

"Hey, it's your birthday. Many happy returns", wrote another. A couple even called. "Just saw on FB, so how was your day?"

Two days later, another friend wrote, "Oops missed your birthday. but I guess its never late to wish, so belated happy birthday." Would he have remembered the date had my picture with a cake beneath my nose not popped up on his page?

So I stopped myself short of following Facebook protocol. I did not acknowledge 'friends' wishes.

Am I being rude? [http://on.fb.me/KxGZvK]

Well, this should help you decide. Every June 10th morning when I open my mailbox, I see my classmate turned dear friend Jyothi's birthday wishes. The last we saw each was in 1999. Long 13 years and not once has she missed wishing me!

When I say the day is strictly personal for me, it is my time to be spent with my loved ones, in a manner that pleases them and only them; It is one day that I love to reminiscence the wonderful people who care about me. Those who do not need to be reminded I exist on the surface of this earth. Those who couldn't care if they got a slice of cake without a fruit piece on it. Those who will include me in their prayers without me asking them to do so and who will skip a heartbeat if I didn't pick up their call on the third ring.

So even as I thank all those who took efforts in having the cake-cutting ceremony organised, I would not willingly endorse it - an HR populist measure!

Are you a Mallu, Malabari or Malayali?

It's all in the name! Haven't we heard this before? So also the rose line... Call a rose by any name  and...well, I cannot forgive myself if I were to drag the greatest bard into his, because my reference is to name-calling and not naming.

I was privy to a couple of instances of unpleasant name exchanges of late. And my first stop was at Google to ensure I'm updated on the latest definition of 'racism'.

One of my friends took serious offence on being called a Mallu. [For all those uninitiated, the pronoun refers to people from the South Indian state of Kerala].

Indians call their compatriots from Bihar, Biharis; those from Bengal, Bengalis; those from Tamil Nadu, Tamilians; from Gujarat, Gujjus, similarly Nagas, Telugus and so on... So why should Malayalis take offence to being called Mallus? And don't we hear bhiyyas and madrasis, too.

"We are Malayalis and not Mallus," came one stern correction.

Then why don't you take offence when called a Malabari - another common reference to a native of God's Own Country? I wondered aloud.

Probably because 'God's own subjects' seem to have silently accepted that pseudonym, I suggested, when I got no reply. To that, one of them told me rather miffed, "to how many will you explain the geography".

[Let me explain the geography bit...The exodus to Gulf countries from Kerala initially - way back in the 1980s - was from Malabar region of state. So they were called Malabaris and the name not only remained but over time anybody who speaks Malayalam is called a Malabari.]

But how should it matter? It does not imply the caller is superior in any which way. If at all, it only highlights their ignorance.

Name-calling is a form of racism, I was corrected. [Now you know why I first Googled]. The theoretical definition of 'racism' is the same in this hi-tech century as it was when first formulated.

If name-calling is racism, then what is not? Our behaviour, beliefs, opinion, actions and habits are conditioned to a certain extent by our surroundings and our upbringing. And, thereby, any word we utter, any action we initiate will be racist in nature in some bizarre context to at least a few, who consider it is unacceptable.

How about blondes, blokes or Pakis? Definitely 'racist' because they are culture-specific. And so every time you call a man by his nationality, you are a screaming racist. However, if you laugh it off, you are a sport. If you take offence, you are hurt. And if you didn't bother, it's just another name.

Just like kheer is termed pudding; idlis called rice cakes; rotis called breads; any South Asian dish a curry...so also for non-Keralites or non-Malabaris or non-Malayalees or a combo of any of these, residents of the state are just Mallus. Easy to pronounce, short to write and fun to taunt. But then, it's zimbly unbearable to some of us. Each syllabblle faals like a bombbu on ower eaers!

If you aren't a donkey or monkey, what's your key?

How many times have you sweared and used the f*** word at someone in your workplace and yet had to smile at them? How many times have you muttered under your breath on seeing someone walk past and yet communicated with them cordially? And how many of such and other similar occasions have spoilt your work days and family nights?

When I mentioned one such character at my workplace to a group, I immediately received their enthusiastic attention with the least effort. I didn't have to say the problem; the word I used to nickname the person - arsehole - was magnetic enough to have all their ears glued to my each word. And all their tongues impatient to share their own experiences.

The first lesson I learnt was profanity created curiosity. Secondly, I learnt that the ass I knew was not a rare breed.

When you claim you are hard-working and sincere and ethically and morally right in executing your duties but still get marginalised, the fault lies with you as much as it is with those who marginalise you.

Yes. Because you let others do that to you.

Stand up and question their act. If you don't get a reply, repeat until you get one. Finally if you aren't given justice, seek a higher course of action. Even if that fails, is that the only place for you to work under the sun?

In honestly answering this question lies the solution to your problem. If you believe that is the only place for you to work, then you lack self-confidence to trust your capabilities; or you are too meek to step out from the comfort zone; or you are in a unique profession that has no parallels; or you have liabilities that chain you down.

If the answer is either of the former two, then it's high time you straighten up your spine. And if it's any of the latter two, even then only a stronger spine can do wonders.

I had an eye-opener when I complained to my editor of the workload vis a vis my increment, which was long due at the time of my speaking with the gentleman. Without mincing words, he said 'The reason why you get dumped with work is because you silently do them like a donkey'.

So what does that mean? Monkeys who cackle and jump about the place not only shirk away from their responsibilities but make the right leap to the right branch at the right time.

Disgusting! To say the least.

Donkeys end up with spondylitis and other loses being neck-deep in work that they do not see the manipulative forces in action. Monkeys engage in jumping seats and scratching others' back for support unaware majority turn their backs on them when in need.

It took me a while to collect myself. But when I did, I straightened my spine and analysed...I don't want to be a donkey or behave like a monkey.

I needed to find the right key.

Meanwhile, I visualised. Prayed and imagined the scenes I would love to live. And lo! it started manifesting.

My book was published. It was the KEY! The key to my self worth!

So what's your key to a happy life? Only you can identify that. It lies deep within you. To look for that you need to shift within not to the outside, where there will be hordes of neggators.

The clue to finding your key is to look for that one thing that gives you immense joy. One thing that you will keep aside everything and anything else to pursue.

Good luck.

Addictions are not just food, alcohol or porn

I was reading Geoff Thompson's 'Shape Shifter' over the weekend. The book speaks of what shifts we need to make within to achieve whatever we need.

As I sat, stood and laid down gorging his words [he is one man I can't resist], I felt in-shape already. Simply because he started off explaining the four main addictions that are injurious to our success.

Food, alcohol, porn and thoughts.

'We either over-eat or consume the wrong kind of food and drinks, watch energy-draining porn, and harbour unwanted and negative thoughts that stifle our creativity and growth.'

I agreed totally and felt proud because I did not have three of the four addictions he mentioned. That's a fantastic percentage!

I don't breeze away with wines and fizz out. I don't salivate seeing shapely backs or muscular arms. And as for food, so what if I have a sweet tooth, I indulge only once a week. So what if I love fries, I don't binge. So what if my all-time favourite is masala dosas, I don't grease them. Am a light eater!

Except for a wandering mind I have absolutely no addictions! I believed. I took a break and even thought of all my acquaintances - friends, colleagues and relatives - who would cringe and drop the book I was holding like a hot brick for its suggestions. I felt so good about myself that I realised I need to treat myself for being good already and lopped up a chocolate cone.

As for my thoughts, I trusted the book to help me. One chapter on yoga says - in all its myriad formats, yoga is only as good as you practise. However, if you want an external stimuli to propel you into disciplining the self, then there is no harm in attending classes, suggested the author.

So lo! I opted for practical lessons. My thoughts need some disciplining!

When asked to fill in the form as to why I'm opting for the session, I replied honestly: "Only to condition my mind. Physically am fit as a fiddle. And addictions, I have none."

The first day as we sat down on our knees for breathing exercises, my concentration was more on my ankles than on inhaling and exhaling, until I heard the master say, 'Those who are uncomfortable sitting in this posture may spread their legs out'. Ooohhff! I took in a gulp of air through both my mouth and nostrils.

The following day as the detox regime was being introduced and everyone in the room gave out a collective sigh, I smiled. Giving up non-vegetarian food, tobacco and fizzy drinks were no qualms. Consuming 40% raw food was no big deal either.

The next evening, participants asked for concessions and more time to get into the fold. And I smiled again.

The following morning, I took out the diet plan to begin my day and downed two glasses of water as instructed. A little later, I felt the urge. (Not what you think).  

I ignored and dressed up for work.

By 9am, the urge was unbearable. I drank another glass of water. Soon it got worse when I saw happy colleagues.

Not being irritated by anyone's action or words, listening to good music, staying happy were the other assignments for the day.

All of which went for a toss, because of my thrombing head. The nasty headache so very used to that hot cuppa in the morning was crying foul.

It is an addiction, I realised.

Initiative versus interest

My first book has opened a whole new galaxy to me. Among the various life lessons it has already taught me in this short time, the one that I enjoy the most is analysing human reactions and actions thrown my way.

And so all the warm to lukewarm and even cold responses from acquaintances, I use as fodder for my mind and soul.

One of my friends, who is helping me promote the book [http://www.dhruvpublishing.com/published.html], put up a post on his Facebook page requesting his mammoth network of friends (more than 5,000!) to share and like and possibly read and even buy my work. But after a couple of days when only four friends shared the info on their respective pages, the crusader posted another message reminding his FB friends what to do - 'Common share!' he urged them.

To that comment, an active FB user wrote, 'I don't know her. She (that's me) needs to take the initiative'.

I failed to understand what's the initiative I needed to take, when my info appeared on her homepage without her asking for the same.

Nevertheless, I send her a friend request. More than 24hours later she confirmed me as her FB friend.

She neither contacted me nor shared the book info. Initiative was not enough, I deduced. I decided to introduce myself to her in a private message, when a gentleman called me.

I was introduced to this person through my crusader friend again. This person had promised to have the book introduced on his radio show. Which he, indeed, had arranged efficiently.

The phone I received while I sat mulling on writing my bio-data to the FB user who needed me to initiate was that of this gentleman media professional. He wanted to know more about my work. I briefed him. A few days later he called yet again and wanted to have a book. He called a third time and wanted to meet me and get to know me better.

This is what I call interest. If you are interested there is no room for initiation. Interest is the fuel and ignition.

One radio listener who heard me speak traced me out on FB subscribing my page. I'm humbled by his act.

I have written to total strangers who are published authors. I hunt down their contact details to communicate. That's interest. Not initiative. I have walked up to nasty-looking mortals and requested for contact details of people in the publishing world. I've received numerous rejection emails from publishers than I could care to remember but that has not stopped me from mailing them again.

I've called up the secretary of a book store owner in Dubai more than 20 times in March alone to fix an appointment. Ultimately when she granted me one, and I eagerly presented myself at her office, I was told, "the owner is busy, why don't you leave a copy of your book." I returned only to pursue following up to get an audience with the owner all over again.

Interest makes me endure rough terrain and break that proverbial ice.

Techies will go any far and stand in winding queues to own that limited edition gadget.

Movie buffs will not miss the first show on the first day come hail or storm.

Wannabe models will unashamedly pursue the most demanding photographer in the field.

Crazy cooks will torture themselves in search of the store that exclusively sells that exquisite ingredient they don't even know how to pronounce.

It's interest that makes them do what they do. Period. They do not wait for the initiation ceremony or ribbon cutting to be welcomed into the field. They simply loiter, nudge, knock, push and if it still doesn't work, barge in. If they get thrown out with the same force, they help themselves up, and try again.

You are the biggest fool, I'm told

A fushia Barbie bag, crispy uniform, new shoes and freshly-wrapped texts which were a source of infectious excitement for the last few days at home lost its sheen last night.

With the new academic session beginning today, I thought I had a situation on hand to diffuse for I almost believed my child was getting the blues the previous night.

I decided to give her some pep talk. So sat her beside me and began playing the mother hen to perfection. "It doesn't matter if all your friends are not in your class. You can still meet them during recess...we'll invite them home...this is life...you will have to shift schools, cities..."

The expression-less countenance of my daughter worried me, and I decided to change the topic totally. I started on Earth Hour assuming to getting her to speak up and then gradually tackling the school issue, when she said: "It is of no use. Street lights will be on. Metro stations, airports, shopping malls all such places will have light. Everybody will be watching TV now. Especially tonight, because it's the last day of holiday. They are fools. They should cut off power to save energy. Asking people to volunteer will not help.”

Ok, so whoever the 'they' are, my child was substantially updated. Grabbed my opportunity and said: "Wow! so you know all about Earth Hour. It's a shame that such a smart girl is sad about starting school tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I asked Papu. He explained it to me. And who told you I'm sad? I'm feeling bad. Not sad. As if we are all fools. If they have given us almost three weeks holiday, they could have given us one more day, isn't it? Why re-open on Fools Day?"

"Oh! that's just another day. Nothing great,"I said. 

"So Mother's Day, Teacher's Day, Children's Day, Women's Day are just other days? We make cards and wish people. Each day has a meaning.”

"Of course, yes. But this Fool's Day has no meaning. It's just a fun day, when you play pranks on others," I said.

"Playing prank is the activity of this day. That I know. But why is it called Fool's Day? If it's only about playing pranks then we can call it Fun Day. Why Fool's Day?"

Now I was getting into tough waters. "Well, that I don't know. I'll check and let you know. But am sure it has no significant history to its origin," I stressed.

"Have you made fools of friends?" When I replied in the affirmative she wanted to know how many times and when, where and whom all.

After I recalled a couple of instances when we really freaked out in college, and thought the topic was done with, she quipped: "You know what mama, you are the biggest fool I've ever seen in my life."

"How weird. For so many years you've celebrated this Fool's Day without knowing why you are doing it. Why didn't you ask your parents or teachers? My ma'am said, 'Copying is bad, but if you have to copy then at least use your brains. Copying without understanding is foolish’!"

PS: Meanwhile, let me Google.

*****************************

01-04-2014 
I did the Googling today... check this link for why we celebrate April Fool's Day.... http://bit.ly/1kmbI0B

Holiday activity... Nail art

 You may want to know one other time when I had felt foolish...http://bit.ly/1kmaYsk