Rise Above Hate

The timing of the attacks on Paris has made a critical difference in the way I felt about it.

In all honesty, such incidents have never really made any significant or lasting impact on me, perhaps because I've been fortunate to not have any personal connection to them. The Charlie Hebdo case was disturbing as it seemed to impugn the right of free expression everywhere, something that matters to me a lot as a writer. 

I was in Paris for three days, and left a day before the attacks happened. After a pleasant day in Bruges, as I was unwinding with a bottle of wine from Paris, a friend asked of my whereabouts and warned me as I had posted pictures with the Eiffel Tower. Meanwhile, someone I knew ten years ago commented on my Instagram picture of wine - "Are you celebrating the shootings?" 

I cannot imagine any soul who would celebrate such a thing, except those responsible.

Some would say a three-day period is hardly enough to get attached to a city as huge as Paris, but I felt a connection nonetheless. something I would write about later - as that isn't the point of this post.

I could hardly sleep that night, and incessantly kept on following the news, reading articles, statements and tributes.

I saw people using social media posts as a license to go on with their lives. "Okay, I've shown my concern. Let's get back to forwarding asinine jokes." Then again I asked myself, what more can they do?

The plan was to move on to Amsterdam next, but the morning after I felt so sick I couldn't get out of bed. Some it was probably the wine. When I told my friends I don't feel like traveling at all now, I was baffled to hear them ask why. Does nobody care?

Had all this happened a week ago, I would have reacted just like them.

Is there something we can do?

In course of all that reading, I came across a number of blame games as to who or what is responsible for the terrorism - Religion, Muslims, Refugees - you name it.

As for my opinion, frankly there isn't much I know or understand. 

Do I have any idea how to defeat ISIS? No.

Do I understand religion? No.

Do I understand God? No.

But I wouldn't be doing this if I don't see a purpose, something I don't see much of in changing a profile picture temporarily or using a hashtag.

It is easier to look at things with lesser variables. In this case, things can be reduced to simply love and hate.

Every act of violence necessarily needs to be motivated by hate. Without that intense urge to really hurt someone, no act of violence can be performed, least of all one of terrorism. This is something that is inculcated in a person through the course of his/her life. So many of us are inclined to fight fire with fire. You break my pencil, I break your pencil box. You curse, I curse. You kill, I kill. I wonder whether this is how the phrase vicious circle came about. 

Is there something we can do? YES. We cannot take on any terrorist group as common men and women. Nor can we enforce the highest levels of security to avoid such attacks in future.

But we can fight hate. Not someone else's, but our own. Your age, sex, religion, beliefs - do not matter. There will be times when you wish the worst ills inflicted on someone else - your class bully, your colleague, your boss. Be an example to those around you, and learn to forgive.

I request all readers to please, please read this comic, which is anything but.

Link: http://zenpencils.com/comic/140-invictus-a-comic-tribute-to-nelson-mandela/

Nelson Mandela. Image Courtesy - hero.wikia.com

Think of what South Africa and the world would have lost had Mandela chosen hate over forgiveness.

It is a feature in fiction as well. When Harry raises his wand to Voldemort for the last time, it is only to disarm, not to kill. Readers may remember he asks Voldemort to try some remorse first.

The only difference between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader is one succumbs to hatred, and the other doesn't. And both suffered despairing losses initially. The choice between forgiveness and hate made the difference.

Religion

I feel for all my Muslim brother and sisters, for the stereotypes and accusations they have to face every single day of their lives. The abuse of free expression on social media has gone completely overboard. Please stop sinking to their level.

A few weeks ago I was at Oslo Central station, playing the public piano. An officer came to me and said it's time to close.

"Where are you from?", he genially asked.

"India."

"India! We are neighbors, then, I'm from Pakistan!" 

There was genuine warmth in his response, something even an actual neighbor may not show. This is the need of the hour.

Why pray only for Paris?

Regarding the hashtag #PrayForParis, good lord, what a needless outrage! Every single person who has used this has been absolutely blasted on social media. "Why not Lebanon? You don't care about us." "Last night in Paris is every night in Palestine."

You have a case when it comes to the Facebook safety feature, which undoubtedly should be available for acts of terror/natural disaster everywhere. But prayers? Pray, what good are they? Not praying for Lebanon is not equivalent to ill-wishing for Lebanon. When a mother prays for her kids' safety, does she wish any misfortune upon any other kid in the world? Does any other kid come and complain why she's not praying for them? It's like asking picture credits on Facebook - they do not translate to any meaningful contribution.

No one is claiming any life to be more worthy than the other. Weren't all of us just apes a few gazillion years ago? I wish peace for everyone, including ISIS

Today is a time of sorrow, but we have to think of tomorrow. With all this hate on social media, we are festering it in not only ourselves but the generations to come. As a famous man once said, "We create our own demons." (Courtesy Iron Man 3)

Let us stop wasting our energy pointing fingers at our Muslim brothers and sisters, religions, and other countries. We know very little of the truth. Let us not be a catalyst of vicious circles of hate, but of love and forgiveness. Inspire your friend, your son, your daughter to be the next Mandela or Gandhi. The world has enough haters.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love." - JK Rowling

 “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." - Nelson Mandela

 We can do this.

All because her name was Dumbhead

The year was 2007, when Orkut used to be a thing. Remember Orkut? People used to have cartoons and actors for profile pictures (predominantly females), apparently because the internet was thought unsafe to upload personal pictures. And today they feel comfortable uploading pictures of their families in swimming pools. Ah, progress.

It wasn't just the picture. Back then, it was thought unnatural to name your profile with your actual name. Nah, it had to be something like:
"K!ShoRe...~~exams~~" or
"black hole is... here ...no chance of escape."
I actually found that second one on email. Seriously.

So there I was, scrapping and snooping into profiles, satiating the ever growing need of wanting to know what's going on in other people's lives - and I came across an interesting profile.

I don't recall the picture - but it was a girl - and the name was Dumbhead.

Dumbhead. The idea of self-deprecating humor may have been alien to me then, but even so, it seemed quite a stretch. Why would anyone name themselves that? Failing to control my curiosity, I scrapped her with this question.

Actually I had done it once a year ago (2006), to which there was no response. So I thought I'd have another go. That's right - I chose curiosity over self-respect. And it worked.

Well I wish I had the actual conversation to share, but alas. Succinctly put, it was a justifiably angry response - saying how I am being nosy and should mind my own business.

My response was a mixture of charm and wit (or so I'd like to believe), but she was mortified. And we did have one mutual friend, which I think may have legitimized my existence, as opposed to the possibility of a serial killer. We started scrapping.

Such was the delight I took in our conversations, that I used to open Orkut in my first color Nokia phone, discussing Wimbledon and books. We shared our passions, fears and complexes. And it was all in a friendly spirit strictly, nothing more. Numbers were exchanged at some point but unused.

While in college, I once got a call from her on my birthday. The feeling is hard to describe, when you've been chatting for so long, and then you hear each other's voice for the first time. There wasn't any squeamish apprehension; we were both eagerly waiting for that moment.

There were a few calls now and then after that, and I couldn't believe this random internet pen friend had lasted throughout my college. When I had suggested meeting in the early years, her responses seemed polite. But the impulse was growing stronger with every year, and we both seemed up for it - however since I no longer stayed in Noida, the opportunities were scarce.

In my three years at Deloitte, the talking obviously reduced, but it didn't exactly cease. Our friendship was like a candle - the flame just persisted, even with the diminishing wax of time.

We came close to meeting a couple of times in Ahmedabad, and once in Noida - but that moment kept eluding us.

A week into my summer internship in Bombay (2015), she told me of her upcoming visit. The city of dreams seemed to have finally granted me my wish.

And so on a particularly hot summer morning outside Bandra station, I jostled through the crowd, looking for my radiant friend. The great wait of eight long years finally ended. I half-expected the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack to start playing.

But life isn't a movie. She was loaded with some shopping bags, and the scorching sun was making her fan herself. Expecting her to run towards me in slow motion, seemed a little too much to ask. In any case, straight-line movement is next to impossible outside a local station.

Bandra Station: Where we finally met

Regardless of how much you know someone online, meeting in person is just not the same. It takes a lot of courage to meet someone for the first time, even for an innocent breakfast. It becomes easier when there're people for company.

Once we took our seats and ordered food, Dumbhead became a lot more relaxed and we yapped like we always have. You know that scene from Lord of the Rings when Gandalf tells King Theoden to wield his sword, so that he remembers his strength?
I think it was the same for us - only that instead of swords, we held spoons and forks. We both love food.

She is a long way away from dumb. She reads a variety of books, has great taste in music, and her passion for food and cooking is a rare delight. She's an exceptionally kind and patient woman, which was evident from the way she spoke to the waiters and the auto-driver. I had always admired her smile in pictures, and finally got to witness it in person. The warmth had little to do with the sun.

A few weeks ago, she told me she'd gotten an internship, and how thrilled she was. Sharing such moments personally with someone makes one feel special, and that moment gave me the final push to share this story.

We remain close friends.

All because her name was Dumbhead.

Thinking Aloud: Kung Fu Pisa

You know how some people appear inhumanly confident? They have this look, that says - "Hmm, I think I'll go cross the English Channel today. Mount Everest can wait another week"

Well, I'm not one of those people.

But it wasn't always so. Going back to my school days, achievement was commonly known in an academic sense. So standing first in class mattered to me, and I did it every time till Class 10. It never came as a big surprise to the other students, or anyone else around me. I looked the type. But I always kept my head down, and didn't exactly soar on cloud nine.

But after that, something changed. Let me cite a couple of instances.

It was Class 10, and I was nearing the dreaded-by-parents boards. I'm in my Maths tuition, and the teacher suddenly says to the guy sitting next to me, "I expect 95+ from you, dear boy. And Kishore, try and score 85."

"Ma'am, why 85? Why not 95+?"

Awkward silence.

The dear boy scored 80, and I got 95.

There are certain feelings we yearn for, deeply. For me, it has always been the feeling of winning. That pure ecstasy a football player feels when he scores a last minute goal. The moment when Andy Dufresne gets Shawshank Redemption. To feel even an iota of that, means absolutely everything to me.

I slackened a bit afterwards, and it was only six years later this feeling was abated slightly by getting placed.

The sole intention behind chasing MBA was CAT. I knew how unpredictable and challenging it was, and said to myself, this is it. You are my Sistine Chapel. The fix for my addiction.

I'm exactly one year into my MBA, and I still get scandalized looks of shock when people ask my percentile, and I say 99.3 . As if it's an unearthly event, and the sun rose from the west.

I didn't even share that on Facebook. Don't get me wrong, I was elated beyond measure. But being the introvert I am, I never exactly celebrated the good times grandly.

Further illustrating this is a day from day 1 of my MBA summer placements. I'm sitting next to a friend, lost in thought. She asks, "What companies are you up for today?"

"Umm, I got placed yesterday."
Shock.
"What! Where? And why are you sitting like this!?"
I give a noncommittal shrug, and say Axis Bank. Notice the word shrug.

Which brings me to the crux of the matter, finally. Axis Bank gives out 4 best project awards every year, and I happened to finish 2nd among 32 interns. And this happens to be one of the rarest personal achievements I cared enough to share on Facebook.

On the first day back to college, the reactions were mixed. While a tiny fraction whole-heartedly congratulated, most of the other wishes had an undertone of bewilderment. Honestly it was exactly like Kung Fu Panda had been declared the Dragon Warrior. In fact even I responded to a few saying, "I don't know how I got it."

There's no hiding it; this got to me. I respond like that because I don't know how to look overconfident, arrogant and mightily pleased with myself. I just don't.

And no victory is ever enough, I'm not exactly alone in feeling like this.

Hit Harder, Agassi's father used to tell him, all the time. There is no climax. There is just the next crest.

Rio Ferdinand said in his autobiography, that Manchester United culturally isn't the madly-celebrating kind. During Sir Alex's reign, he says, the ecstasy of every cup and medal was short-lived. He inculcated this habit in the team too. If today they are champions, tomorrow they will already be plotting the next win.

The greatest Manchester comeback

Deep down, I have always felt the Manchester Red in me. Every success started with a failure, but like Manchester United, like the flowers of spring - I always came back.

Ultimately, now I am left with the epiphany that- not only I will always be a Kung Fu Panda, the quintessential underdog;
I will always be a winner, in my little world.

Taking off in the MBA Flight

In the beginning of the movie Batman Begins, when Bruce Wayne finally scales the mountain and reaches Ra's al Ghul, he is huffing and panting.

Ra’s: Are you ready to begin?

Bruce: I… I can barely stand.

And then he gets kicked to the ground. A couple of more blows later, Bruce finally starts to defend himself, puts up a fight, and eventually faints.

This is the welcome a b-school gives to you, once you scale the mountain called CAT.

I wasn’t oblivious to this. I have heard friends talk about it. Most of you must’ve heard this too. But it’s not the same thing. It’s like the Matrix; you can’t be told what it is, you have to see it for yourself.

The first couple of weeks aren’t so bad though, when the only thing turning up the heat on you is the Sun. You walk around in campus, and survey the crowds for what IT guys would call leads and opportunities. There is an aroma of new found freedom in the air, and a proclivity towards being irresponsible. 

And then out of nowhere, you are expected to be athletes. A multitude of races are laid in front of you, and your mind starts to spin.

Clubs. Committees. Presentations. Exams. Competitions. CV. Placements. Placements. Placements.

On the very first day, I remember a line from the induction ceremony: “Most of you here; your lives have been graced with success till now. But beware; a lot of you will experience failure here in some way or the other.”

His words started making sense soon enough.

The feeling of complete worthlessness is a phase through which almost every MBA student has to pass. Regardless of what you have achieved before b-school, or how inhumanly talented you are, you will break. There is no escaping it. Winning all the races is out of question.

Yet the fact that some seemingly do better than others is undeniable. Some have that extra spurt of energy for whatever they do. In fact, experienced folks start feeling like a hundred years old, when kids fresh out of grad school run around and speak with over-exuberance. “Who’s that jumpy kid? I hate that bastard.”

Needless to say, extroverts run riot. Poor introverts, especially those who lack self-esteem, are left to question if they even deserve being here. I belong to the latter, and ended up with zero club/committee selections. A couple of selection tasks required me to online propaganda, or write boring articles with fancy words so that it is apt for a newspaper. I blatantly refused. In fact, most tasks will make you ask yourself, “Do I really want to do this? Is this really my thing?” Most of the people do it anyway. While some merely believe they can do it, others would see the incentive – CV points.

The importance of CV points is understandable, when you realize that your batch is full of people like you. It’s not class 9^th anymore, where you were the only one who could speak amazingly fluent English, or write poetry, play football, or play guitar, or have 90+ percent marks in 10^th and 12^th standard. Or even have all of the above. (Actually, not having 90+ percent marks is a crime you’ll pay dearly for throughout this life and the next seven or eight lives.)

I digress. Having gone through the turmoil of this first term, with an internship secured for next summer, I have realized one thing. One may call it a cliché, but that’s why they’re called clichés. They’re lessons we need to learn again and again.

What we have on our resumes doesn’t differentiate us. It’s our attitude that does.

MBA teaches us this critical lesson. Everyone’s paths will be crossed by falls and failure, regardless of your resume. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve broken down like a child myself. But I did not lose faith, thanks to the unbelievable support of my parents. When it mattered, especially during the summer placements, I had it together. It’s what Yoda from Star Wars would call the Force. The invisible shield that acts as a cocoon against all fear, doubt and disbelief; and keeps moving forward.

A word ought to be said about the people. We humans have always shown great unity in adversity, and it is no different for Term 1. Every 1^st year would agree that the seniors made a phenomenal effort to ease our burden, and we’re all encouraged to follow suit next year for our successors.

Life in MBA till now has been like an aircraft taking off, without its passengers wearing seatbelts. Our insides have been properly shaken and stirred, and the plane is now stabilizing into an auto-pilot mode. Hereon, we can either take control and choose our destiny, or sit back and stick with the auto-pilot.

Hereon, the world is at our feet. 

The Liking Nonsense

There was a time when the first thing we did after waking up was brush our teeth. Today, it has been comprehensively beaten by 'check your phone'. Regardless of course of other 'pressing matters'.

So this noon, as I purred lazily and reached for my phone, it was filled with - no, overflowing with these:

"Please like my entry. Help our college win!"

"Please like the original photo, not this post."

"Please like this. And like this too, otherwise the like will not count."

What the fuck man.

Before writing this, I actually googled to see if there were any outbursts or even the slightest abomination of competitions based on Facebook/YouTube likes. To my utmost dejection, I could find none on page 1.

It has been around 7 months since I've started my MBA. And it is heartening to know I can vehemently write about it all I want, unlike being employed, where there's little you can write about your work.

Long story short, pretty much everything in this so called higher education is a farce. If you would ask me one thing, the one thing that is the least tainted and still has something real about it, it would be B-school competitions.

Now I'm not a very active guy in competitions myself, barring quizzes. But I know a fair bit about them.

To break it down for you, there are two types - the ones conducted by companies, and those conducted by B-school students themselves. I have nothing to say about the former, except that most of them are a brilliant learning experience.

No, I am talking to you, my dear budding MBAs.

You, my friends, are an exceptional lot. There is no question. Whatever college you're in, you have to accept that. Aptitude tests, interviews, group discussions, summer internships, clubs, - you have breached many walls.

Why this please like business then, I implore you?

Are we a bunch of jungle monkeys? Whoever screeches the loudest wins?

Are we WWE trump cards? Chest 50 beats Chest 48?

Are we standup comedians? Louder the laugh, better the joke?

No.

I mean the current situation is so pathetic, that even presentations on Finance are being collated into a single image, and begging for likes. Which basically means even if someone uses Newton's laws of motion for their financial projections, but gets the most likes because of their popularity and social adeptness, they win. Am I the only one who sees how abysmally absurd that is?

The only reason I can think of is laziness. Why go to the trouble of individual evaluation when it can be quantified and simplified, right?

Please, come out of your stupor. This is wrong. We are all well-educated men and women. Let us not pollute the sanctity of competitions. And there are better ways to market your clubs. Put a few heads together, and create something.

If we don't stop this, we are no different from the guys distributing flyers at malls and stations. When I see Marketing Club of XYZ forcing me to like their page, I imagine that flyer guy handing it to me. It will end up in the bin, and so will their reputation.

As wise men put it all the time - we are the future. Before launching another competition based on likes, give it a second thought.
I don't want the next generation living in a world where their feeling of self worth is decided by popularity. And I'm certain most of you don't, either.