Random thoughts & Catharsis

1. Soar:

I like how a plane soars into the sky. The one moment in time, when that most marvelous of engineering feats, leaves the world behind. I drop whatever else I do, and that singular point of take-off & lift-up holds my undivided attention. It holds poignant significance for me.

2. Travel:

As I write this, I'm far from being a globe-trotter. But I've realized over the past year of intra-country travel, that visiting far-flung places, features eminently on my 'Things-to-do-before-I-die' list.

3. The Unnamed & The Unknown:

There have been people I met in my walk, who fulfilled a purpose - with a timely word, a helpful hand, or an unforeseen insight. I was grateful. I was responsive to their need too. Then, I moved on. That was okay. A natural drift. I made no effort to 'stay-in-touch'. On another time zone, can one meet someone, who's nothing like you in a most likely way, and you let that fierce guard down, and wonder, "if those walls you built up, were just glass on the outside?" Some relationships don't have to have a name. Someday, I'll heartbreakingly know..

4. The known:

You cannot walk on hot coals and not be scorched.
You cannot walk through fire and not be burned.

A real short story

He had big brown eyes - the color of earnestness. 

His soft, wavy hair fell over his forehead. He spoke haltingly, the words tumbling over each other, but he did so passionately. He was standing at the intersection of the busy road, vehicles streaming from all directions. 

He must have been looking at me, but when I caught his eye, he blinked away. Maybe he made up his mind, and he stood a few paces behind me and my friend. 

I turned and looked at him. He smiled,” Muhje paise nahi chahiye”. 

‘Ask and it will be given to you’ 

“Toh kya chahiye?”, I asked. He pointed to a few notebooks in his hand. “Char subjects hai school mein, teen book chahiye har subject ke liye”. 

I looked at my friend, who seemed moved but said he’d go with my intuition on whether the kid had a genuine need. I considered the boy and gave it a thought…but only about which bookstore to go to. 

‘Seek and you shall find’ 

We walked, navigating the traffic. He studied in a “gohmment” school in the 5th standard. His mother worked in a hotel near where they stayed and he didn’t have a father. His brother studied in the third standard, he said, sticking 3 proud fingers close to my face. All his words were punctuated with vigorous nodding of the head and pointing of fingers. Every expression was honest and endearing. 

We arrived at the bookstore and bought notebooks and a box of pencils for him. He’d taken a bus to get there, only knowing that he had to get notebooks. His childish mind saw no barrier to the achievement of his desire. I asked why he chose to travel all the way from where he stayed. He didn’t want his mother to be ashamed, he said. 

‘Knock and the door will be opened to you’

He clutched his new possessions close to his chest and promised to study well and grow up to be a good man. I gave him my number. 

I wouldn’t be too surprised if I heard from him, after many, many years. 

And I wouldn’t be surprised at all, if I never did.

When I’m weak, then I’m strong

The last 2 two years have been the hardest, in my living memory. I’ve felt elated and abandoned. Strong and exhausted. Felt the presence of God and stony silence.
Much of what I’ve been through, I felt, doesn’t make sense. I’ve argued, bargained, rationalized and went still.

Be good and you get good, right? Isn’t that how it should be? But then, God, as I’m discovering, is more interested in our character than our comfort (Rick Warren).

By grace, I’ve become more outward looking. Your own problems seem insignificant when you take a good, hard look at someone else’s suffering. And your life, a bed of roses, in comparison with someone else’s.

It’s been a month, since I’ve been visiting children living with cancer, at a cancer institute nearby. These are kids, of all ages, shapes and sizes, sharing a ravaging disease in common – at different stages of invasion. They seem bright-eyed, eager to learn and content in their little drawings, games and stories – unaware of the devastation within their bodies. They know only joy, innocence and the daily routine of medications, which they handle in a matter-of-fact way.

They’re from different parts of the country, different schools that they don’t go any longer to, and different families – each with a private grief of its own.

Being part of their joy adds to mine, as I bring them books, help them read, write, draw, play with blocks, color and sing. Do they ponder why they lose hair, have bulging stomachs and protruding veins.. I find myself wondering what goes on in the little expanse of their guileless hearts and look up to see an ear-to-ear melting smile..

I don’t know what tomorrow holds – but knowing I’m significant, of great and eternal worth with a purpose while here on earth, gives me strength to plough on and face tomorrow. Whether or not I have the answers to all questions – disappointment with God is better than disappointment without God.

“This is the true joy of life: the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one, being a force of nature, instead of a feverish, selfish little clot of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy” (George Bernard Shaw)

(These kids can use storybooks and funds – if you find it in your heart to contribute – please drop me a line)

Inspiring social change

Leadership is a common word. Everyone uses it. Many books have tried to capture some part of its essence. Some think leaders are born and that one either has it in him to be a leader or does not. Others think great necessities call forth great leaders. In the words of Warren Bennis,the management writer, ― Leadership, like love, is something everybody knows exists, yet is difficult to define.

Ralph Waldo Emerson used to greet old friends with, ― What‘s become clear to you since we last met? Writing this article, is an opportunity to reflect on that question and what‘s become clear to me is how much one can learn just from observing other lives. Our experiences at the ― Leaders of Tomorrow program served to some extent, to manifest how young people can be trained to take charge; of their lives, their careers and their futures. In the following description, we have tried to explain what difference this training, provided at a young age to students, who otherwise may never have such an opportunity, made to their lives. 'Leaders of Tomorrow' is a program conducted by Dr. P.N. Singh‘s Foundation. The training is imparted to students at Rameshwar, Patuck and other schools in the city of Mumbai.

Mumbai – the land of dreams and maddening paradoxes. Sprawling highrises and heartwrenching poverty. Children at international schools preparing for the opportunities offered by the globalized world and those who work the streets, just to earn their next meal. In this city that never turns anyone away, our 2 week experience at the foundation, opened our eyes to one of the selfless efforts made by determined people to bridge some of the opportunity gaps.

The Foundation launched its Leaders for tomorrow project in 1998 for under privileged school children. It is a one year part time program in class ninth where trainers teach students skills like goal setting, time management, mind control, motivation and public speaking. The project aims at developing self-confidence and improving self-worth in participants so that they are prepared to assume leadership positions in the professions they choose. The course is free of charge and is conducted in various languages like Marathi, Hindi and English. The project has about 33 trainers, all professionals from H.R and other fields. For this project, 30
students, on an average are selected from Class IX by the principals of the respective schools. The students selected are financially backward and are academically inclined. At the end of the program the students are awarded with a certificate by the foundation.

Various aspects of personality development such as self esteem, concentration, habits, memory development,speed reading, communication, creativity, goal setting, time management, attitude, values,stress management, mind control and social behavior are covered by the foundation. On 16th January, 2006 the foundation initiated the India scholar awards. These are handed out every year to well deserving students selected on the basis of merit, which provide them with financial assistance to pursue their graduation.

We also managed to meet some students who had attended this program in the years 2003and 2004. Most of them stay in the slums and needless to say, have not been exposed to any kind of training in terms of personality development and language. We wanted to find out the impact this unique initiative has had on these young students and how it has influenced the career choices they made or were planning to make.

On our journey, we were led around by one of the students, Jitendra, who wove in and around the slums, tirelessly introducing us to people. One of the things that moved us was the courteous treatment given to us. These were poor people, who did not hesitate in offering us food, being short of it themselves. On interacting with students who were trained by the foundation, we were left with no doubt as to the effectiveness of the training and the positive difference it made to their young aspirations.

There were those students, who wished the workshop stayed in longer touch with them but they seemed glad to answer our questions and remembered all the training sessions and their trainers with gratitude. The choices they were equipped to make prepared them for their work lives and contributed in enabling them to choose their careers. Surprisingly, not many were keen on choosing that coveted area of higher education – MBA. What interested them more,were fields of engineering; one student, being particularly fascinated by aeronauticalengineering, and refreshingly, some wanted to know how to gain an entry into the UN.

It was heartening to see wings being provided to the dreams of these young children. These kids are marginalized, like so many in our city. It gave us particular joy to hear the case of a young girl, trained by the foundation, who competed at the national level for a public speaking title, with students from well-heeled schools; and won. These were students who learned just for the joy of learning. They could not afford to take education and a good career for granted,unlike many of us. They had a genuine desire to know more, to make something of themselves and they were clay in the hands of those who wished to mould them.

We could sense their joy from the bright glint in their eyes and their happiness from the words they said. The children were glad that someone cared and their enthusiasm glowed from their faces. Much of the effectiveness of the training arises from the fact that these students are caught young; trained when their beliefs are still being crystallized and taught while they still dared to dream.

Even as we applaud those at the foundation, we realize, certainly, more of such selfless efforts are needed. How can someone like you and me contribute to such initiatives? We‘d say: Time, Money and Support. Any of these, would be investments in the future of such children that will earn rich dividends in the days to come. Along with us, they can also be leaders, learning to take charge of their situations, instead of being pushed around by circumstances. The times we spent with the children served as an eye-opener and to be a part of their happiness, we consider a joy and a privilege.

(Written for the college magazine, 2009)

Home is where You are.

I'm not blind at all to Mumbai's faults. For a city trying hard collectively to be at the cutting edge of modernity, it has seemed terribly backward, many times. But, I shall give Mumbai credit, where it's due. It prepares you to live, adjust and even thrive, in perhaps most parts of the world. Yet, as I went back home for a short stay, I wasn't struck with nostalgia, no memories swept over me, as I looked dispassionately out the car window at the chaotic buzz around. Just the happiness of seeing my family and settling into the familiarity of home. As a Christian saying goes, I live as a stranger on earth, with an enduring citizenship that awaits, beyond.

Home was another story. I felt like I was never away. My mother, bless her heart, promptly served up a feast fit for a king. In all the 3 and a half days spent, I unabashedly state that my jaws never stopped moving. Irrespective of culinary timelines set by civilization - breakfast, lunch, dinner, I ate.. anytime and more accurately, at all times. So, by the time, it was time for me to leave, I'd consumed enough food to feed a little African country.

As I cozied myself in my own room, plopped on my own bed, miles away and removed from my boot-camp style bed, I displayed the stuff I got for my family. More moved by the sentiment and feeling, than by the gifts, I loved the joy in my parent's faces and wondered if that's how they felt when I appreciated things they gave and did for me. God, perhaps, feels the same way, over happiness and gratitude displayed over a blessing.

Yea, this is home. Back to the order and cleanliness of my room, where everything is in it's right place. Yet, it had the calm and stillness of a day, just before a storm is gathering. My suspicions were confirmed when my sister confessed to running a squad-like operation to beautify the room, before my imminent arrival. Of course, her wardrobe, still was the same ol' horror of horrors. Not just messy, but, so messy, I thought I might need an oxygen mask to enter without passing out.

After 3 and a half happy days, of eating, talking, church-time, spent with the ones I love, it was time to bid adieu. I was to travel on Republic Day, a national holiday never being a good day to travel, since 9/11. I however, was more concerned, about handling my guitar in the plane, even as my mother fretted over Bin Laden, himself, being my co-passenger on my trip back to Bangalore.

As I landed at Bangalore airport, which by now, thanks to its uncomplicated layout, I've come to know like the back of my hand, I smiled at the memory of how suddenly Bangalore had fallen on my Mum's motherly radar. Everything that occurred within a 1000 kilometre radius of Bangalore, was promptly and duly reported to me, which included giving me information on my own company - the one I worked for.

Leaving home, wasn't the hard part. The daily living is. Not knowing what my future holds, but certainly and oh so, thankfully, knowing the One who holds my future. Well, Home is where the Heart is. And, where the Treasure is, there the Heart is. And when I think about it, Home is where You, Oh Lord, are. Let that be enough..

Matchbox

I live in it. A matchbox, that is. It's a tiny room. It ends even before it begins. My roomie called it one-fourth of a room. She was being polite. When I moved in, it wasn't a pretty place. Dust had settled in on the beds, which were of the kind one would find in prison. The air was stale and the room stuffy. I had a distinct suspicion that it might also be infested with roaches. As it turned out, they made a regular appearance.

"And this is where you can keep all your clothes, wokay", the landlady said, while opening a poor excuse for a cupboard with a flourish. She turned and smiled at me, as if I'd be staying at the Taj Mahal, itself, no less..I swallowed and enquired about the food. "Good food wonly..", she trailed off. I went to the dining area where my friend pointed to a gruel, which any self-respecting cow would have rejected.

A while ago, I'd stood at the balcony of my floor and waved goodbye to my parents. Watching their car leave, I felt my heart grow heavy. As I dumped my mattress on the prison bed and whooshed away a cloud of dust, I felt alone. Yet, I had this distinct assurance of knowing that I was meant to be here. I began the process of settling in. It was an uphill task trying to figure out how and where to place all my earthly possessions without tripping over them. A minor exercise in project management, if you ask me.

Work began at 8: 30 am and went upto 6 pm. My pick-up was at 7:30 am and I reached at 8, which meant I spent a good 10 hours at my workplace everyday. It was no minor relief that saturdays were off. So, in view of my schedule, I had to deliberately plan every minute not just at work, but also when I came back to my room. I reached at 7:15 pm and every minute after that was super-precious, because another day would begin again, shortly.

Well, you ask, why am I still put-up at this place? For starters, it's a hop, skip and jump away from Forum - Bangalore's biggest mall. So, all the basic necessities of a true-blue Mumbai girl, are met. But more importantly, I was determined to build something of beauty in a place of ashes. For a girl, who's lived all her life, in the safety, comfort, and convenience of home, the newfound independence was both exhilarating and terrifying. Every task, from reading a book to paying a bill, has become an activity that requires planning. I've become even more conscious of how I spend time.

I heard a talk last Sunday in a church about transit points in life. For the Biblical character, Jacob, Bethel was the transit point. And I thought then, I'm Jacob, in Bethel (figuratively, of course). We may not build our home there, but we try to make the best use of our moments while there. It's a place to dream. A place of disappointments. A place of hard lessons learnt. A place where one sometimes, has to pick up the pieces of one's broken heart and move on.

But, it's also a place of reflection. A place to meet new people, who serve a purpose in one's life, for some while, even if one may never see them again. A place where relationships are cemented. And a place, where your eyes are opened to the things that really matter.

My matchbox is livable now. It is swept clean. It also smells nice. But more, it is lit with a sense of purpose. It's aglow with grace. Even my roommate says so. So, when I raise my weary eyes to heaven, it dawns on me that I'll be given each day my daily bread. And I realize once again..that the most important things in life..are not things.

Not knowing..

I'm at the verge of completing 7 years in higher studies. M.Sc. Biotechnology followed by an MBA with a specialization in marketing. 7 years of hoping to find my calling, and waiting. So, by this time, I should have crystal clear clarity on what it is I want to do with my life, right? Wrong. And I should know which moves to make and when, right? Wrong again. It's tough not knowing. So, I'm still waiting..

Do most people have eureka moments when it just occurs to them, that this is the profession that they will be the happiest in? Then, there are others, who've always known what they'd do when they grew up. The son who always played with his daddy's stethoscope, the lil' boy who made sand castles and grew up to be an architect, the girl who found happiness peering into a microscope at school and became a scientist.

I wish I could say, I've always known what I wanted to do, since I was like, a fetus..but instead (wonder if one can use but and instead in the same sentence - but let me not digress), I say I didn't choose Biotechnology..Biotechnology chose me. I seemed to others to have a happy confidence about my next move. But, that confidence was never my own. I just knew, in my heart of hearts, that wisdom about my next course of action would occur to me. Why lean on my own understanding?..

Yet, at one point, I wondered if I should give it all up and change track altogether. Maybe, when I turned 25. That emotion has been subdued, since I first had the thought.

So, this is what is going on in my head. I'll just take one day at a time. When you walk in obedience, you never have to constantly worry about whether you're on the right road and where it is heading. It may seem dark, sometimes, but you look upward for light. Seriously, if I knew it all, I wouldn't need grace. God gives his children their daily bread, each day..and one day at a time. No weekly or yearly rations. It's like being handed over the bus fare by a loving father, just before boarding the bus.

Such is life. Didn't Naaman have to wash himself 7 times in the river before he got cleansed? He could easily have been healed in the first contact with water.

After all, no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind had conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him. The journey of life is intended to build the character of the pilgrim. Yes, it's tough not knowing what's next, and the answers to all the whys, whens and hows, but it's allright, in the end.

What I'm holding onto now, is hope. Of course, neither will I ever be content with the mediocre nor settle for anything less than my full God-given potential. And certainly, that may not be easy, but hey, I live by faith and not by sight..