Work - A Rite of Passage (Work Ledger - 3)

I have been formally working for a little more than 10 years now. In this first decade, I have moved often— six companies across three Indian metros and varying set of responsibilities but mostly revolving around storytelling. I characterise this movement as ebbs and flows— necessitated by the pursuit of more/ deeper opportunities to learn, a faster growth, a more enabling environment, an empathetic team. The years have been very fulfilling, for it has brought me many highs (coverage, funds, recognitions for clients and brands I work for, multiple opportunities for creative storytelling, seeing team members grow). I have also met some of my best friends and really inspiring people at work. Below are my reflections/ lessons/ observations from the journey so far. 

1. My friends at work got me where I am today

Growing with and alongside my friends is an absolute privilege. There is the birth family and the accidental family that comprises friends. Today, many of my closest people in my life are or have been colleagues. These folks have consistently opened their lunch boxes, homes and hearts with me, for me. There has been so much breaking, and some baking bread together. We have had the privilege to witness each others’ most important and difficult moments, share secrets and stories, receive and offer support. We have together explored the limits of kindness, tried to make sense of not just work and workplaces, but life. Some of these folks, I am lucky, have pulled me up for my mistakes and steered me to be better. Shout out to those courageous ones who have inspired me to embrace honesty and truth at workplaces, and walk the difficult path. 

2. Nonprofits and corporates are more similar than they are different

Having worked in nonprofits for the past eight years, I can say that they have a very creative, visionary, outcome oriented workforce and leadership. People [and their aspirations], politics and processes (or the lack thereof) are similar to corporates. Both sets of organisations solve problems that fulfill people’s needs. There are people out there who need services - some of them are fulfilled by corporates, others by nonprofits. The intention is to make this planet a better place to live. The only difference is that at nonprofits, employees work at a comparatively very lower remuneration. 

3. Workplaces, teams, scenarios can be unfair 

Workplaces, teams go through their own rite of passage. Sometimes things at work can get really out of control. In 10 years, I have had my share of royal disappointments. My performance has been misreported. Promotion has been mentioned and not given. I have received biased feedback so many times. Reputed vendors/ professionals have committed, not delivered and made excuses. Team members have shown immense potential and their performance has declined later. Despite my best intentions and efforts, I have succumbed to vile schemes, unaddressed insecurities and favouritism. Alongside being enraged, I have also taken these instances as lessons hard learned —- and evolved my ways of working. I have started holding individuals more accountable than earlier. I try to expand my learning, sometimes at a fast pace, sometimes slowly. I also surround myself with honest, kind and able leaders at work.        

4. Remote works

There are pros and cons of both working from home and work from office setups. Since the first wave of COVID-19, I have supported the goals of two education nonprofit startups and made it work for myself, my team and the organisation. If anything is reflective of the fact that it has worked is (A) that I have been around for four plus years now at ShikshaLokam/ Shikshagraha, (B) I have been promoted and (C) I currently have the opportunity to lead communications for a high stakes initiative (Shikshagraha). It works because I have been intentional about it. I have a schedule that I try my best to stick to, I proactively communicate about my presence (or absence), projects at hand and processes being followed or overhauled. I self organise field visits. I also try  to visit Bengaluru (the headquarters) as often as I can and spend the time judiciously with the team both at and outside the office.  

5. Teaching years were best years   

My favourite two years at work, hands down, have been the Teach For India Fellowship years—bringing out the best and the worst in me. They were the toughest years too. I taught 100 students in Grade 6 & 7.  I was crying often in the first half of the first year after school. When I failed to engage students because of underdeveloped relationships and below average lesson planning, I lost my cool easily and I was quite miserable. However, my reflection, visioning, planning, organising, storytelling, self care skills enhanced in the process. 

Children are a joy to be with - their innocence, love, openness to learn is contagious. And once I got a hang of teaching, it was very fulfilling. Seeing students making connections to content being taught, seeing them joyful instead of hurting each other, exchanging stories with them. I keep wishing to go back to the classroom. I got to learn more deeply about the education system, humanity, human psychology, and myself. The learning continues. Despite the fact that eight years later, the TFI processes, teams, schools have evolved, I will still totally recommend it. Either TFI or other rigorous fellowships. 

6. Working, or choosing not to work is a privilege 

An opportunity to work, to work remotely, to do what I love, all of it is a blessing, not just my hard work. It is a compounding effect of my many many privileges. I can also choose not to work. Most people do not have that option. Taking career breaks is not at all viable. So many families are an illness away from debt. Supporting families and life, especially in a rapidly changing world, requires consistent income. I only have the slightest of those worries. And I am incredibly grateful for the exemption I have received. 

7. Work is part of life, not life

Something that I am still learning/ unlearning even after a decade and changing multiple organisations is to not take everything-work very seriously. What was the intent behind the comment by my colleague?! Can I pause for a while during work hours? Can I request for an extension to the deliverable? Unlearning that duty is everything is still a work in progress. I might have understood the difference between efficiency and productivity two years ago, but it has not translated into actions. I am still vying for the balance that allows room for creativity, regular pauses, off-the-job learning, and continuously embedding ongoing learnings. 

8. Asking for what I want 

I have asked for both difficult and easy provisions - a raise in salary, a senior position, more team members, prioritisation of tasks. And I have got what I have asked more often than not. But it would not have been possible, had I not mentioned the needs. My partner and friends have helped me build a spine. I have asked once and when it worked, I have made it a practice. Reflection on what’s important for me/ to achieve the organisation goals, has only encouraged me further. I now know that I am going to be responsible for my growth, learning and I have to take the initiative. Workplaces are run by people, not algorithms and machines, and the first step has to be taken by me at the right moment. I think my brush with fundraising (you get only when you ask for it) and spirituality (the realisation - what is the risk in asking, only rejection) has also helped.  I have also made it a point that when I do not get what I feel I deserve, I will not shy away from looking out for greener pastures. 

Corrected the serial numbers on Oct 5th after publishing. Previously 5. was 6., 6. was 7. and so on. 

Coming of Age, at 30

I turn 31 in less than two months. This year moved rather very quickly despite the efforts to slow myself down. It was as eventful as any other year but with novelty on its plate. There were many firsts - closing on a house to purchase (sponsored by my parents) and spend the next few years in, an operation (even though a minor one) for a dislodged kidney stone, promotion at work, hosting the parents at my place, experiencing a semblance of calm at work and travelling amidst clouds (in Araku Valley). There was also letting go of many exhausting and unnecessary goals and deepening some friendships (the most delightful thing from the year). 

The lessons from recent times will hit home when the time is right. But there have been some from the previous year which have set the tone for the times ahead. I had the opportunity to share these with my team a few weeks ago. And more importantly, to articulate them well, instead of just letting them churn in my head. 

Awareness of privileges, heightened

The Teach for India Fellowship made me very aware of my privileges but even as I have spent more years living, I see my privileges get compounded. Being born into a dominant gender, dominant religion, dominant caste, able bodied, access to learning and earning opportunities (even from the safety of home), having the luxury of being born with non intrusive parents, having my loved ones alive and able bodied too. And even living in a democratic country which is not in an active war with another state. Being able to not worry about almost anything, I have also taken a step to make time for spiritual experiences, and in turn, am able to take care of my mental health well. Recently, during a conversation with a friend, I also realised that I was the pampered one among the two siblings and that must have bolstered my confidence early in life. Today, I live a healthy, happy, secure life. 

Efficiency vs Productivity 

I have worked in startups or in a startup environment almost all my professional life. Compound it with the typical culture in Indian organisations (non profit or profit making) where everything is urgent and important. In these years, while I have learnt immensely, something that I ended up also building up an unhealthy state of being constantly active, not at rest, at work and even outside. When I was finally able to unlearn it - after getting repeatedly burned out - I was able to make room for creativity in my work. There was a splurge of Ideas, opportunities to learn more and showcase abilities [across different communication channels at my end]. I realised that breaks are good and a must.

Less is more

Working at iTeach Schools exposed me to the idea of vision and goals. And I set that for my whole life and overdid it. There were innumerable goals for my health, relationships, work, hobbies, finances for the last few years. It did not work out and like I said, I burned myself out. 

The awareness was liberating, and a precursor to more peaceful living. To my mild surprise, letting go of so many unimportant things did not affect my well being and happiness, rather bolstered it. Today, I am able to attend to more heartwarming activities like writing, spending time outside home (essential since I work remotely) and most importantly, spending more time laughing, cooking, and conversing with friends. 

Being comfortable with my body

High and unrealistic standards of what good looks mean and what I should be constantly working towards, has been in my mind for a really long time. Content available in all forms and sizes did not help nor did a bit of bullying as well. Everywhere there were, and continue to be, chiselled bodies on display. Through spiritual experiences and learnings that followed, and constantly reiterating these lessons to myself, I have been able to step forward towards accepting my body’s shape and size and only worry about the consistency in nutrition and exercise. The journey continues.

Less is more - in friendships too

Letting go of friends who do not put an effort at all in the relationship or have drifted away on their own paths, was a lesson hard learned. There were some relationships that were incredibly heart filling and warm but that was only due to proximity or because our student lives were simpler. But times, people, circumstances, and priorities change. There are a few friends who have chosen to stay and my focus is to now nurture those. 

Love vs Attachment

I believe that love is the centre of our lives like the mighty sun in the solar system. The concept has been of extreme fascination for me. What constitutes love, how does it start, do you ever stop loving a person, how to forgive people you are/ were in love with,  how to make more room for love. I am always on a lookout for the elusive answers, but one thing I have understood is how attachment is not love. Letting go [of your wants, expectations, hurt from the other person and still holding the fort] is deep love. Acknowledgement and acceptance of others, their experiences and choices, is love. Taking care of yourself is the most important service or act of love to others. My parents are the shining example of it. Despite our differences in approaches to living life, choices about work, relationships, and especially with my orientation, they stand by me. 

My heart is full as I think of the community that I have nurtured for myself. They hold immense love for me. I am grateful to them and to the time & opportunities that I have to experience, learn and live well. 

The picture is from Dec 2022, when I was trying to soak the silence on a hill top at Lepchajagat, close to Darjeeling.

A Phoenix’s Flight

Composed this for a dear friend Komal in an attempt to capture her journey so far and the person she is. The concept and content was shared by another dear friend Adarsh. Both Adarsh and I have had the privilege to know, befriend and work with Komal during all our formative Teach For India (TFI) years. The conversations, exchanges and love persists. 

---  

A gentle, fierce creature, opened her eyes, cried out, 

born out of ashes, a struggle which so many like her

do not come alive out of

In a city, not without the battles of its own 

Her baby wings fluttered, though only in the cage 

With the bars of patriarchy, chauvinism, injustice

She learned, through observation, through pain 

And from her the bigger birds in the same cage, 

under their wing she grew,

shielded from the oppressors if only for a while

They helped spread her wings to their full might

In a flight to set the course of her journey

The maiden flight was to a city of riches and ravages alike

Where she saw many more birds, some free, many caged 

And experienced joy, love, thought - a life outside the cage

The fierceness grew, in service of others 

of big and small little creatures

Most from their own cages of poverty and hurt 

A guardian to them, helping them sprout wings

She also lived possibilities and security

With birds who saw the change of seasons as she

Caged or not, but definitely fellow travellers 

Soaring high and far, with her, nudging her ahead

But the flight was not without the obstacles

Stones were hurled, pain returned

no more just a fledgling, she lost few companions midair

Then our gentle fierce creature found 

a fellow soarer, a significant other 

She delivered a violent blow to the cage

And her fellow birds blessed and celebrated 

Braving all clippings, criticisms, our creature

Our phoenix has risen in another flight 

Piercing, and herself being the light

A journey determined by her own spirit

Guiding others in the cage to soar higher.

The beloved TFI school team, as a result of which we got to know and love each other. 

From left - Shefali, Adarsh, Komal, me and Varsha. 

 

The Guru Purnima Post

I have heard the term Guru Purnima a couple of times but it has never registered with me even in any literal sense. As a Teach For India Fellow, the meaning became clear, when kids greeted me with flowers and cards. A few days ago, on Guru Purnima itself, as the moon shone round and bright, I just took it to be a usual full moon. Until, a student called to wish me. It reminded me to do this post which has been pending for months. This post shall serve as an ode to the four Gurus who have impacted my life as I had not expected at all. I was just going about my usual business with and around them. However, the little and more time I have spent with them gave me many insights about how to lead a life well.

Amit Hans. I call him Master Ji. I adore and respect him the most in my life. An ideal man, my superhero. He taught me the language of life, how to balance emotions, how to listen to people, how to get others to open up and most importantly, how to smile. I have learned to be joyful from him. I have always seen him giving time to his students, understanding them, acknowledging their limitations and guiding them how to identify their goals and the necessary steps. I am sure I took him to my classroom in the past two years; I wanted to be an as able teacher as him. He was the only person who was happy and positive about my decision to quit my job and become a Teach For India Fellow. He taught me to care for others, acknowledge their beliefs, how to support others and how to always wear a smile. 

Vandana Sandhir. She is the head of the public relations firm where I was working before I joined Teach For India. She taught me the language of work. I have set high standards of professionalism for myself after working with her. She is and will continue to be my favourite leader. I learned from her to look ahead, have a plan B, be humble, grateful and how to support people in the team. I have hardly seen her let go of her composure in times stressful. She gave me and my manager ample space to grow and manage the business in our city. She once mentioned that work never ends and one has to take care of self – something that ever since become my mantra. She hired me with little experience in the industry. I will never forget how she, the country head, patiently helped me write my first press release which was initially bad – a moment etched in my memory and the basis for each time I have to guide someone else. 

Supratip Banerjee. Anyone who is close enough to me is aware of the impact the guy has had on me. He teaches me, every day, the language of love and how to do it effectively. I have seen him balance his and everyone’s emotions around him or connected to him such dexterously, that I sometimes find it unreal and him a saint. He forgives, he cares, he rejoices in love. The love he has for his close ones, including me, is immense and something to be grateful for. To have him in my life is a blessing. He also taught me to love myself. Supratip is a loved man and he knows how to acknowledge that love. 

Ma Faiza. My first interaction with her was only a few weeks ago as I sat with her to cover her coming out story. She is a living manual in the language of courage. Her honesty, the casual throwing around of truths, her coming out tale. Everything is a reinforcement of my own belief in holding truth as the foundation of a relationship and operating otherwise. A brief interaction with her pushed me to strive to believe more in myself and choose my own way of living as the only way forward. 

What is common in the four of them is that are themselves all the time. They create a safe, comfortable space for everyone around them. They listen and ask for what you need. Their words and actions are worth the world’s wisdom. In the bittersweet journey, of all the kind and brave people I have met, they are the most kind, the bravest. I bow before them.

Monsoon Has Arrived

For a long time I wandered, 
I turned where curiosity pulled
Loss and lesson, much exultation
Sojourns turned into tales
Wide eyes, amused smiles
This lasted until last year when
One fine day monsoon arrived

I wander, at a new corner now
Pale to see the lips curve, moonlight
Dancing in the arms
Embraces wide, long and comforting
Yes, monsoon has arrived

I shiver with the eyes on me
Affection pierces me, stops my breath
I lay my head, on a soft spot
Calm ensues, anxiety ebbs
Monsoon has arrived

Dizzy by the meeting of our lips 
Hands interlocked effortlessly
I smile often, as I see other lovers
Soaked in joy and love
For me too, monsoon has arrived

An Encounter with Buddhism: Looking into the Mirror

Teach For India Fellowship has been nothing less than a blessing or a miracle. The people I have met and worked with, which includes children, in the last two years have molded my personality in a way I had not intended it to do. I had only envisioned the fellowship to be a launch pad for a career in the development sector. However, it holds much greater value.

Earlier last month, I was asked to submit an essay (a portion of this post) as a part of a job application. It gave me an opportunity to reflect back on the experience, which I will reproduce here. Around till the end of first year of fellowship, I have been very curious and also, frustrated without answers, about the meaning and the possibilities of life. A conservation with a friend alluded to the idea and she asked me to undertake an experiment. I was to attend a ten day Introduction to Buddhism Course at Tushita Meditation Centre, located among Himalayas at Mcleod Ganj.

The idea is to observe abstinence of speech, killing, stealing, lying, sexual activity and intoxicants for ten days while being at the centre. One has to adjust to keep silence, has to be gentle in one’s behaviour and sensitive to fellow course participants and staff, keep an open mind and adjust to the schedule. By shutting out the distractions of everyday life, exposing oneself to spiritual (Buddhist) lessons and teachings and sitting through time-determined meditation sessions, I found a set of answers that I was looking for.

It was subtle, profound few days on the hill. I got up early in the morning, before others, to ensure that I could get the washrooms unoccupied. I saw the light of the dawn peeking from behind the tall trees and in the glitter, I did what I like to do the most in the morning, read. The discussions, listening to the teacher and the understanding I have developed of the people by observing their eyes and smile (or the absence of it), took time and have become one with who I am.



I now observe existence to be a function of love, kindness, gratitude and grit. I realised what is important for me – my relationships, peace of mind and learning. I understand and feel affection with an open happy heart. Sometimes, I am quite overjoyed or overwhelmed as I notice the love people have for me and my heart stops. I have learned the importance of taking care of myself, it’s of much significance to have both mind and body healthy. I learned where to draw the line - at work, in my relationships, in my adventures. I have let go of unhealthy people, few addictions and habits. I have stopped feeling ashamed of my body's shape and size. I speak openly, I prefer to look in the eye of the person and say the truth. I don’t get easily outraged at people or during difficult situations. I try to understand my anger and control it. I observe how people respond, I analyse how and why of their actions, I try not to judge. With judgment minimised, forgiveness has seaped in me. I have learned to be a happier, calmer and kinder person. I love better.

A hand to hold as I sleep

Years passed by, as I
Mocked affection, warmth
Dismissed it, belitting
I didn't know what awaited me
A hand to hold as I sleep

I devoured bodies, wandering
From one street to another
Uncovering depths, not of kindness
Of unfulfilling pursuits; while all I wanted
A hand to hold as I sleep

Desires, dreams, demons mixed
A confidence falsely held
Tears kept in check
All the time, all this while, only
A hand to hold as I sleep

The hands I scratched, others
smothered and held
I knew not, it was yours
In which my nirvana lay
A hand to hold as I sleep

Living with a privilege, more than one

Last week, over dinner, a dear friend and we were discussing the daily travails that ails our hearts and the regular encounters of our aging selves. He remarked that I am leading a quality life. It was to be another affirmation of my thoughts, coming from someone else.   

The continuum of my miracles is even greater than I would be able to put down here. It clearly started once I was conceived in my mother. She was well taken care of, all the basic endowments – clothes, food, shelter, comforts, affection and more, made its way to her. Even before I was born, my grandparents started doting on me, depriving my elder brother his due share of love. He still stands today, by my side - the only one in the family privy to my true self – a source of immense relief.

Early as a child, my family decided to move out of Delhi and establish base in a small town in Haryana. We had a government quarter in cantonment area to ourselves, supplies in place, a clean, quiet environment to learn and grow in. The compound was huge, with trees laden with leaves and fruits.

In the school, I was a, or among the toppers. It allowed me excessive advantages to dominate other kids, keep my mouth flowing and question the ways of administering education. I wish I was more emphatic towards and cognizant of my fellow beings.

I wonder why my mother always asked me to choose a profession of my choice, she never expressed a desire for positions, designations, roles. All she ever wanted and she still does, is for me to be happy. I choose an overpriced course in a city away from home, I chose to leave a decently paying job to teach in a government school against my family’s wishes, I choose to spend time away from them with friends or travelling, I still choose to spend an amount on a meal in a fancy restaurant which my parents started their jobs with. Never once, they have flinched to make me comfortable, happy and feel loved. I am sure there exists no way to repay their affection and care.

I will quickly recount a portion of what I continue to be indebted for. Being born a boy – the life is so much easier being a guy in the country or otherwise – I will make a separate blog entry to thank my father for his Y chromosome. Getting pampered in the company of affectionate, human, guiding friends and colleagues throughout. To be able to always afford decent healthcare, flights to travel home or attend numerous weddings, attend film and music festivals, indulge in food and comfort. To have the space, time and resources to persue interests, observe the sun going down, step out at any time of the day or night.  

Also, being honoured with the opportunity to experience and appreciate human warmth and care. Being endowed with the understanding to share and receive love. Living with the third person perspective to observe and correct actions. Being a witness to a soul as it smiles, laughs and cries. To be able to count the number of shoulders on which I can cry on. I believe it is indeed a luxury, just to be able to count my blessings.

I spoke to another friend about three months ago. We had connected after five years and he asked me if my time is better than it was before. I will reproduce what I said – life pehle bhi achi hi thi, samjh bas ab aaya hai - life was the same earlier, a blessed one, however only now I have understood what I have. 

Homecoming (Work Ledger -2)

A little more than a year ago, in a defining kind gesture, an ex-colleague connected me to my present colleague. I was unaware of the impact a simple phone call could lead to. In the months past that opportune moment, I have had a profound realisation of the remarkably privileged life that I lead. The call led to an exposure to substantial experiences hitherto I was unaware of or never imagined true for me. I also, and most fortunately, came to work with set of four thoughtful, compassionate, generous individuals, and who, I along with them, were known as Vini - 6 School Team.

Over the years, I have observed quite a few teams, who just simply moved together, all the time. I envied those teams. And in the course of the last year, I became part of one. Occasionally, I pause to observe their contemplations, the lines of their faces, their smiles and wonder how our paths interlocked. In the treacherous/ transformational fellowship journey, these four became my home, nothing short of that.

After about years of running from one thing to another, from one city to another, from many relationships to several, I am home. A place where I am forgiven for mistakes big and small. A place where my stories are sought after. With them, I can turn into an annoying child and escape without being chided. They allow my words to stay with me, they are most comfortable with the comfort I am accustomed to. They know the words unsaid.

When around them, I am less anxious, I am a joker, chatter mouth, a little more responsible, shameless. This team's company and also its memory is a refuge, especially for a runaway that I identify myself to be.  They are witness to the darkest and filthiest versions of me, and they still are kind. With them, I share my fears, my tears flow easily. With them, I am nurtured and loved.

I also wonder if I will ever be able to repay the kindness in one lifetime or more. Meanwhile, for the last few months we are physically together, I will continue to rejoice, in my good fortune.

A Commonwealth of Love

A few months ago, amidst the magnificent hills around Pune, I sat with strangers, at a storytelling circle. Together, one by one, we gave away ourselves, our narratives. Some insights about what shapes who we are, reasons why many things still wreck us and how love, in many ways, was present in our lives, or instead, has been missing. 

Hearing others, I was overwhelmed, almost overcame with tears. It was a struggle to find words that would match up to, if not equal, the whys and wherefores of me. I did it, making people laugh and wonder, though not really content with my storytelling skills. 

I have come to know and spend time with people from that circle, embracing them beyond the shower soaked, emerald, tenderness encouraging peaks. Abundance in all positive means persist. Another wonderful miracle of that circle were the choice of words that I made. I have been looking for the right ones from quite some months, for this post. There were many viewpoints, much rattling of parables. The search ended among the hills where this book opened.   

I am the younger one in the family, always youngest among friends, have been even until up to the place where I work now. If one has known a similar experience, they might be familiar with the emotion of being overpowered, by warmth and care.

My canvas is made of tolerance, sacrifice and uncountable portraits of pain – none mine. Identify the vivid colours - Me losing control of my tongue, my voice and always being forgiven, always. Never being shouted at after multiple mistakes at different roles that I have played at work. Deliberately doing performances that most find uncomfortable and unacceptable. Also, keeping my paint brushes tucked away, while others only shared, ample with their own colours. 

I ran away from home more than four years ago at the first opportunity I got. I did not pay attention and it has become a habit. It increased and took many forms – running away from the mess food, away from the banalities of the similar sunsets, from only-self-regard and paths downhill, cities and even genuine affection. 

Only after experiencing myself how distance can be cruel, I understood the naturalness of the love and concern of my family. When I finally had the courage to part with my secrets, I found friends closer. I am trying to be as forgiving, as understanding, as others have been with me, being the kindness that always came my way. Alongside, what an absolute pleasure it is to smear and splatter colours on the canvasses of people who love you and one after the other, add loving tones to yours. 

Hanya Yanagihara wrote, “And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it….of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

Bangalore Blues

Years ago, when I was about 10 or 11 years old, a mathematics teacher shared a lesson with the class. Keeping aside the usual diction, she asked us to make a count. A count of number of times we used the words thank you and sorry. She added the less we use these words, the more we score on the sheets of life.

However, over the past few months in Bangalore, I saw something very different to what was mentioned at school – the value of understanding and acknowledgment of what others do, knowingly or out of habit, to allow more comfort and joy seep through.

I spent the most hours in Bangalore either working and on the bed. Curiously, the number of hours spent at work were fulfilling, with each member from the small team invested equally, stretching themselves, making sacrifices and recognising each other’s contributions and out-of-the-way help, which was commonplace – putting people first at all times possible, even when business took precedence.

If one has seen Bombay’s rush and Delhi’s frenzy, Bangalore appears to be numbingly quiet and calm (not denying their own wonders). A city where the conductor and the driver of the bus shout at you just to ask you to be careful, as you attempt to jump off the moving vehicle. A city where a youngster in an Audi, allows you to cross first even while your eyes are on the phone and not the road. A city where it rains simply because the temperature shoots up a notch higher. One cannot help being grateful. 

The human emotions run equally parallel as in other cities, the human composition after all warrants only a little peace. But the pace of the city allows more room to them, something you usually experience when you sit by the sea or on the capital’s silent streets or otherwise while being tucked away with people who care about you.

Love and desire brushed past me with full force here, putting me out of my reverie. Once significant things lost significance, desires gave way to absolute essentials and meaning of others’ actions were made a note of.  

The city has sundry people in its fold. Some visited, people who I care about. Over many fired, warm, sparkling conversations, I also met some talented people from different turfs, with astounding stories and I found them indebted too. Weekends, the clichéd joyful days became the norm to indulge in company and the temperature of the city blew quite a few lids off.

I was told that Bangalore is a city that I would really like. I did. Several answers that I looked for after stepping out of Pune surfaced in surreptitious ways. Goodbyes soaked with a thanks or two, made it easier to step out. And as more months passed by, it was pleasing to recognise the basics of investing time, well, every time with a thank you.  

My first picture in Bangalore :)

Stories maketh a man

In the midst of some interesting encounters this year, I realised I have a predilection for stories. Stories in different shapes and sizes. Fiction and Non-Fiction. Books, films, blogs, some short snippets by Terribly Tiny Tales. A few social media updates that if put together can be an interesting tale. Distinctly astonishing reads from The Stranger’s Project, stories that are brought alive by groups like Kommune. And the ones that I hear during conversations, at work, over rides, food and trips. 

These stories have laid bare very human desires and many fears. I now know the reasons behind some choices – which had left me exasperated earlier. Pretexts of love for a particular food item, song, a film, a person. The ploy of a kiss, those tears and that hug. One blink and the monotony, the ordinariness of a gesture is sanitised to reveal the hidden sum of the hundreds of moments. What I take away from chats, films has changed. I gather more.

It starts from the start, the family. It took me years to realise our narratives are supposed to be linked like the fevicol ka jod. There is no point denying it. They are the ones who are most eager to hear our side, however trivial the accounts are. Watching the kids grow up and racing the scooter through the city where I grew up, the usual happened - life flashed past. A friend said some time ago, we are each other’s experiences, there’s no living without.

A few weeks ago in Bombay, conversations alluded unrequited love and a longing to demystify the future. Thoughts slipped into conversations and I glanced up to place the voice and the person together. An exchange that took more than 2 years in making, was left unfinished. Others were set in motion.  

The background of every story is love or grief borne out of it. I have also realised that behind the restrained, evasive remark, everyone has a story to tell. Fairytales, legends of kindness and companionship, an account of honesty, a piece of care.  

Work Ledger - 1

About 6 months into the job. A place of choice, the typical into-the-job pangs. Interesting/ amusing workplace discussions, intense WhatsApp chats. Vibrant Facebook posts, nostalgia & love soaked updates. Taxes, savings, unforeseen expenses now commonplace. Life does moves on, at a cruel speed.

There are very few surprises that a job brings, there was a conspiracy but we were prepared. Conversations with friends, echo disappointments, but there is only a diminished feeling of loss, for the batch of which one is part and will be forever proud of, parades a trajectory of success. Dreams take shape, a few regularly, many in a slow motion.

Exchanges are infrequent, and similar. So are our routines now. In these routines, so many truths are vindicated. The general impatience that life is, that ideas are valued and substantial, essentialism of companionship & conversation, bearings of choices made – briefly, the summation of one short life.

The day ends peacefully, if the walk back home is accompanied with a smile and a tune in the ears. One learns and grows, yet deep inside, one looks for the constants, the answers that are never enough.

Next are the next steps, unnumbered. Probably the ones which will make it possible to be closer to something that one is close to and a home that will be called rightly so. Undoubtedly, things will make sense, they simply just will. 

Travel Journal - 1

The word travel does not invoke a beautiful memory for me as it does for most people. I have travelled well, if not far and wide. And I have not had a life changing experience so far while on road, nor have I undertaken a trip that is so unforgettable that it can be told to the coming generations.

But I have travelled, with family, with friends, acquaintances and alone. In each setting, I have had my own little stories to share, which I will recount here, in no particular order. I have travelled to many corners of India, with family on religious trips. Not religious myself, I am glad my parents decided to take those trips for their parents – for their goodwill and karma, have played a part in my making and I consider myself blessed due to their actions. I also made a religious trip of my own, to Amarnath Cave, which was a pass to visit Kashmir, a place where my mother spent some years of her childhood, of which I will always be jealous. The same year, I visited Malaysia, an eye opener trip. I was there for an AIESEC Conference, and the learning was that how very similar the youth is across the globe, in thought, action, beliefs & dreams, even though color, birth and boundaries dictate otherwise.

In my post graduation, I managed to travel in each semester. The best excursion was one after getting a job, there was nothing holding me back, saved enough, no classes or assignments and the clichéd troublesome future lay weeks ahead. I travelled to multiple places, with different set of friends and alone too. After my first solo trip, I now know how to plan my future journeys, better than earlier.

My small little voyages also include the walks across the two cities I spent the wonderful years during my post graduation and internship. If Pune has abundant cafes & bookstores and emptier streets to fancy a walk on, Bombay ofcourse has the sea and effective transport system. I transversed on foot in both a cities frequently and was delighted in the discovery of smiling faces, delectable food items & places, and the sights that are essentially captured in a click. Though I could not like Pune, even after trying, I did fell in love with Bombay and had a brush with the emotion with which Mumbaikars call it their city, the unfathomable, weathered, enchanting island of dreams.

My travels in the current decade have had lasting impressions on me, they have become a part of my aspirations, opened access to more places and have made me appreciate things in a better vein. I have had people, friends telling me their own stories. I hope to create a few of my own, that I can tell kids. How very metaphorical these trips turn out be, and when one does look back, a smile appears, a longing to get out again and to allow the air, whirl your hair. 

(Originally written for & published at wanderingvivek.com)

A Hard Goodbye

As we grow up, a set of family surrounds us, our friends. While distance always crawls up in between, you know many of your friends, you cannot say bye to, they live close by, in the same city, festivals and family functions provides enough reason and opportunities to meet and catch up. 

And while growing up, you dream of a few things. You make a resolution to get as much as possible, with available resources and time. One of mine was to stay away from home, experience unbinding time & space and create unforgettable experiences.

And on the way, I met people and made friends with them, that are hard to say bye to, now. 

I did expect to make friends, and I did. Not a few, but many. It began with sharing. Sharing a room, sharing a classroom, sharing interests, sharing capacities, sharing dreams. Studying in a residential institute for the first time, I got to know people like never before, and they became close.

I saw what I expected and much, unexpected. An invincible talent pool, people with extraordinary capabilities. I was left, even more speechless, to see people experience goodness and return it doubly. I only understood friendship, or so do I think, here.

It has become a bit too hard to loose these friends. Loose to time, loose to distance, loose to who they are. And to realise why it is hard, is even more painful, it is because of the shared experiences with them. There won’t be more time at hand, to create these experiences, at least for me.

How they do not allow you to fall at any rate, any time – in the classroom, in a relationship, in an interview, in your conduct. How they want you to stay with them, because they know you and want you to be comfortable. How they recall and appreciate what others had to say to them or did for them, and they make these conversations and experiences, the basis for lifetime conduct. How they make you realise who you are, what are your fears, what are your strengths. How they sacrifice their sleep to pick or drop you, otherwise not bothering to get up for even a class or to write an exam. How people grew up, from the funny induction program to last day. How they hold you, when you believe there is no one to do it. How they walk with you, even when you left them when they needed you.

Thanks to the placement cell, and these friends, I leave with a job. A job to keep me occupied, a job to stop the incessant tears, a job to take the empty hollow feeling away. Until the convocation hours, where one could be a kid, once again, if only for a while. 

Lavale, One Last Time

After a short and tiring third semester, we are finally back on the hill, vowing to do as little as possible, with the institute, and possibly everything that we can dream and manage to do, with the group of people called friends. Last semester was where we apparently became responsible, saw relationships strengthening and realized that yes, the next semester would be the last. 

It has begun with an unexpected turn of events, too many things witnessed in a few days itself, has led to finally giving up on the illusion of things being the best and drop the naivety, which had sent me into a frenzy in the first year at the institute. Now we see things as they really are, and they would be in coming future, what benefit we derive out of it; we have grown, in age, experience and heartbreak. 

The picture might look bleak, but there is always more good news than bad. Friends, batch mates are getting placed, we are finally witnessing what we dreamt of when we joined college. There is a lot of time in our hands which has allowed us to pursue our interests to the fullest and spend time with friends like never before. Movie marathons, listening to legendary songs late into the night, endless, warm conversations. Still, time seems to be slipping from our hands.

Another day, a visiting faculty asked us to introduce ourselves. It is quite interesting to see how over the last months at the institute, our bios, introductions, our choice of words to narrate our stories have changed. It is oddly comforting to see others finally deciding what their lives have to become after a few months, for the forces only wished to drag us according to their will, an opportunity we deny them everyday now.

And only few weeks hence, we shall wake up from the dream that Lavale is, step out of the home that was never ours and will be left, only with, silent crying hearts. 

बंबई के क़िस्से (The Internship)

My batch has been asked to submit a blog entry along with the internship report about the experiences and learning during the internship period. I am glad; the task is the easiest thing to do and would make it essential that I recount one part of my Bombay experiences, which I wanted to do over the past two months, but I was unusually lazy about it.

I just happened to be at SIMC, and similarly chose Public Relations as my specialization by a matter of chance. Knowing absolutely nothing about the industry, I sat silently in class while jargons flew and sometimes listened with awe about what the media industry is all about. I admit I took my own trips in class, when things didn’t make sense to me and I repeatedly wondered what I am doing here. I interpreted that the internship period will be a revelation for me. So, with patience, I waited for a company to pick me. Eventually one did.

I interned at Fleishman Hillard – Mumbai. I was very nervous the first day as to what will be the work be and of course, if I would be able to deliver the required. It was my first day in the corporate world, my first day at formal work ever. I was asked to write (post studying about the client) as my first assignment, I happily took it up. During the next few days, the work was slow because I was gradually being acquainted to things. Over the next one month, I was exposed to different facets of the industry, through my work & observations and the stories shared by my manager. I had a bunch of clients but a whole lot of things to do. My manager explained and helped me with every element of PR - the daily deliverables, media relations, documentation and reports, client servicing, budgets, ideas, writing and research & analysis. All these functions were inter-related, we worked according to the plans made earlier and on priority basis that is according to clients’ regular inputs.

The second month was better and livelier. As the team developed the rapport and I was able to understand the work better, the number of assignments increased and so did the number of clients. I was interested to stay back and work, because I knew I would not get to be an intern again, and learn while committing mistakes. There were deadlines, it excited me and increased my interest and commitment. The best phase of the internship was when the team was supposed to do an annual review for a client, alongside we  also prepared the pitch for a new business opportunity. It involved identifying the components that would make sense to the clients and with which the objectives could be achieved. The job was different from the regular assignments and involved my inputs in the process, so I enjoyed it. Also, there were some tasks that were tiresome and monotonous, but essential. The team understood that, so they constantly encouraged us (me and Manasi – she is my classmate and co-interned at FH), to work as we please and take breaks and not kill ourselves doing the job.  Overall the internship period indeed turned out to be a revelation. I now know more about the industry and also aware about my strengths and limitations. I know what I want from my final placement and from the next few months on campus and the months post that. 

It is essential that this post also mentions the people at the organisation, for they are the sole reason for the good experiences. It is a small team, so there is a greater integration and sharing. Everybody in the office ate together; at one o’clock, the Vice President would shout from her seat, “Guys, lets go for lunch” and everybody would badger the person who refused to get up. Me and Manasi, were allowed to participate in all discussions, everybody valued our opinion. There were assignments, where we reported to people other than our managers and they, with patience and humbleness, helped us to finish the tasks and gave their polite opinions and feedback for our work.

Special mention about my manager, Abhishek Vora. He was incredibly humble and patient with me. He explained to me the fine nuances of the business, the company and the industry. He worked long hours, yet he made time to answers all my queries. Once, unknown to me, his wife waited outside, while he sat with me answering my questions.

The last day was event packed, our fun presentation, farewell to a colleague and our farewell. It was hard to believe that while we ate and laughed so much while we were together, it would not be the same from the next week, we would not see them. 

As I write this post, I make another reflection that the amazing experience would not have been possible, if I would have been selected earlier. I was one of the last students in the class to get his internship sorted, the thought never troubled me and the day I got the news, I was more content than being happy. And as it turned out, it was worth the wait.

Thank you FH Mumbai.

Old Love Letters

The first year ends tomorrow, and most of us would be gone before the end of the week. To be in a four seater room, was a blessing in disguise and none of us want to let it go. So with a heavy heart, we started to pack. To bring a smile on our faces, what did happen was that one of my roommates, found old love letters while cleaning. Who that roommate is, I leave that to you to guess.

Lessons, friends, journeys, food, conversations, celebrations, it was indeed a very beautiful love affair (Read earlier posts, too much sugar). The thirty two thousand words that went into my MS-Word Diary would be my love letter that I could read later without any pain or regret, but probably it would bring tears to my eyes.

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I am pretty excited about the internship and being in Bombay for two months, but I wish to stay back, even though it could mean a tsunami of classes and assignments, and on the top of it, the campus authorities who refuse to cooperate. But for everything not-so-appreciable, there are small little things that make the time here, but-so-good. It would also mean that another few pages are added to the love letter, an opportunity, always cherished.

A small film that had our batch's first year on the campus, brought the entire year flashing back to us. (The film is not the reason for the post, I wanted to write one for a while now) For like so many of my batch mates, I have nothing left to say, but just that, a thank you. Nobody would ever be forgotten, not because my memory is sharp, but because there would be an old love letter, lying safely with me, where your smile and your words are, for forever, recorded. 

Room No. 428 And Beyond

I have always wanted to be away from my home for several reasons. So, I got into SIMC, Pune, considerably away from Ambala. Hostel life had always fascinated me and I wanted to get into my room as soon as I reached my campus.

Room No. 428, a home away from home, as cliche as it may sound, is the place which will hold a special place in my heart forever, until some deadly disease puts its foot down. My first hostel room, and probably the second last, thank heavens that I have another year of post graduation left. 

I have been completely myself, only here at Lavale Campus, I have been happy before, but there is a serenity in that bliss over here, probably a hill can do that to you sometimes. With friends and family not to bother you, you get to explore your surroundings freely, and more importantly, to discover yourself and life.
I started blogging, I could finally swim in a pool which I need not clean before jumping in, I performed on stage for the first time, I spent an entire day at a bookstore, started regularly jogging, took a train journey with friends for the first time. Recently, became a part of a huge college fest, experienced for the first time a live band experience, embellished with the memory of me jumping and dancing on the stage with friends, topless. Finally, went to a beach after a long wait of eight years.

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Also, importantly, met and made amazing friends, talented, with beautiful hearts. Their company, support, and care have made my room and everything on this campus, heavenly. People do not like the fact that I call my room my home, for the definition vary as do the individuals. I call it my home, as it allows me to return to it, as if am going back home itself, obviously there is the bed, which doesn't ever crib or complain. Then there are the wonderful and irritating roommates, bakar, festival and apna himesh, 428 diaries is an another chapter.

Also, there are other friends also; celebrations, conversations, food, classes, everything is double or rather, the joy, with them only. During festivals and drinks trips just down the hill, the entire batch becomes a family, figuratively, we at least at that time, forget everything and dance with abandon. I do not drink, these dance sessions, other than the things that make me happy, make me high and I become a replica of a drunk guy. I become overly friendly, loud and obscene.

And most importantly, there is so much space on this hill, both in terms of hectares and the space people give you. The added incentive of beautiful weather in the evenings almost throughout the year, I do not mind rains unlike my friends; music and smiling faces (I have an affinity to locate smiling faces), make the hill, more than a college campus. A stroll brings profound joy, and similarly, the still-silent campus at night.

All the experiences, mostly good and bad, makes up the magic, the magic which the hill is to my life.

Highway Movie Review - Everyone Has A Story To Tell

My house is located, almost at a junction of three states and three highways, so to go anywhere in the city or outside, I have to transverse on at least two. And I enjoy travelling, exploration and journeys are one of the things, that I value when I look back at my life.

I mentioned this because Highway is one movie that would make you reflect a lot, that too a lot many things and wonder about the wonders of your journey  so far. However, the movie may leave you confused.

The Performances

The review will be replete with such instances and personal memoirs because Highway touches many chords, a different one for everyone. Alia Bhatt is a carefree, flying, emotional and eloquent bird, she does have something to tell, which she reveals through the course of the movie. She says that she doesn't wish to go back, neither she wants to reach the destination, she wishes to relish the journey. Alia, once out of her house, is finally able to express her dream, she eventually could fulfill it, but a lot does happen in between, and that what the movie is about. Alia excels in the performance, there is bucket full of emotions for her to show, she does it commendably, expectations increase hence. 

Randeep Hooda, with his one nostril always flared up, taned skin, rugged look, perfect accent, is very convincing. He hardly speaks, is astounded by Alia's mannerisms and tantrums, something bothers him, (which is never revealed in the movie) and is disconnected from everyone around. Around us, don't we know at least one person who is held back, there is something that bothers him or her, rarely speaks the heart out, and could  break down when shown unexpected generosity and love. Randeep Hooda is that individual, all in one.

I was talking to a dear friend of mine, I said lets just to a village, farm and enjoy the greenery, have cows and pets and lead a calm and peaceful life. Alia had the something similar in her little dream. Highway is about this dream, that we have in all of us, to run away from what we have in our lives, make an ideal home in the mountains or on a beach, away from all the baggage and the pain. Alia wishes to escape from the shackles of the richness and as for Randeep, nobody knows.

The Story

It is a very Imtiaz Ali film, not at all a good one. All his characters break moulds they are made in, they are very random in their acts, they do not hesitate (the girls majorly). Same is the case with Highway. Alia embarks on a journey nobody wanted her to ever take, Randeep obstinately moves to go ahead with the kidnapping and ransom thing. Characters do random things, earlier Alia cries when she is kidnapped but suddenly she is all warmed up, she even refuses to reveal herself to the police, a fact even she is not clear about that why she did it. Yes, people are different and their conditioning makes them what they are, but they must fit into the premise of a sensible plot, which Imtiaz could not achieve this time.

Apart from the unconservativeness of the characters, one word that was in my mind till the very end of the movie was 'randomness', there are many more turns in the story which would make absolute no sense. Also, the movie addresses not just travelling, breaking rules or falling in love, but a lot many other things, which leaves viewers to look for a particular direction for the movie to move in. Script is haphazard and there are very few moments that would stay with you after you step out of the hall. Climax, though not surprising, is still not totally believable. There is little humor too, but it is now a part of every movie, here also, it just breaks the monotonous pace of the movie. Towards the end, you just want to get it over with.

On the good side, the movie is a picturesque journey, all the locations are beautifully captured by Anil Mehta, colorful as our country is, so is the movie. The terrain is remarkably used to depict the fullness of the bond in the lead characters, it keeps on getting fuller and brighter. I have traveled a lot on the similar highways, so the recognition took me home. Music and background score is subtle, it is by A.R. Rahman, it has an embracing effect on the plot and does not over spill.

To put an end to this, Highway touches many chords but the music fails to reverberate for long. Highway didn't disappoint me, but it didn't do anything else either. It is a journey in itself, and a journey, how much ever filled with bumps, is never unyielding. Buy the ticket, and tell your story, if you liked it or not.

Stars of the movie - N.A.

Stars to the movie - 2.5