Fact Remains

The Vulcanos

2011-03-02T17:58:00.003+05:30

It had become a usual task to wait for the day of the result, to check the website, enter your seat number and get ready to get back to studies; yet again. But this time it did not happen like that. I did wait for the day of the result and the website was visited around the scheduled time, my seat number was entered and I found relief.

After having known the fact that I had successfully cleared the exam, it took me quite a while to believe it. My emotions went numb. My feelings went numb. I did not react. I did not do anything that I had imagined myself doing after knowing that I have passed. I did not cry; I did not yell; I did not laugh; I did not swear at anyone; I did not punch the wall imagining the wall to be the face of the reason that caused me wait this long to get what I deserved. I simply stepped backward and sat down on the sofa like I had just arrived after having run for miles together.

I could still not express any joy although there was some. I think that the relationship between joy and relief is somewhat like the demand curve. When you work hard, and reap the fruits of your hard work soon enough; there is more of joy and less of relief. As the time taken to get what you deserve increases, the amount of joy, the amount of pleasure that the success carries, decreases and there is more amount of relief that you get out of the success then.

“You have cleared the exam! You are a CA now”, I heard my wife say. I said, “Yeah” in the lowest possible voice. My wife actually took a picture of me to capture the moment. My mother, my sister, my wife everyone had great smiles on their faces. My mother was the one who had actually put my number and clicked to get the results that day as she believed strongly that the day was lucky for her. It turned out that the day was really very lucky for her, for me, for everyone in our home. She went inside to offer ‘Prasad’ to the God. My father called me up from the office. I could feel how happy was he to know that his son was finally a CA like him. My cell phone went on ringing call after call. I felt as if it was my birthday. Actually it was; of me as a CA.

The parties, the get-togethers were to follow on that day and for more days thereafter. My mind was now thinking about the job and the career further, instead of the ‘exam – result – study’ cycle. I was slowly getting back to my senses.

I had to go to office. I got dressed up. But there was something that I wanted to do. Something that I really wanted to do. I took out the fire crackers that were left over during Diwali. The ever popular ‘Vulcano’. My favourite. I rushed downstairs with a matchbox and 3 vulcanos. I placed them in a line at some distance. I lit a match and swung it sideways to make sure all the three vulcanos get lit. Then the three of them exploded one after another; like they used to fire cannons to celebrate victory of the king. Vulcanos... to express the silent volcano of joy that had erupted inside my heart after I realised that I was a CA.

I waved ‘Tata’ to my wife, my sister, and my mother who looked at me from the window, and left for office; with my head held a little higher than ever.

Addiction is Universal

2010-07-20T16:59:00.002+05:30

I opened a bottle of perfume from my collection and sprayed it a little on my clothes. I had already applied the perfume on my clothes an hour ago. I heard my wife say to me,”Enough honey, don’t be so addicted to perfumes”

‘Addicted’; I said this word in my mind a few more times. The feeling of being an addict was so evident and clear in my mind. “May be I am addicted”, I said, “but not only to perfumes. I am addicted to a hundred other things in life; and this is perhaps the case with everyone else in the world.”

My wife did not say anything to this. But I was able to reach a conclusion for myself. I could relate this thought to many things that I do. I discovered so many addictions in me. Proudly though, I was ready to admit them.

I feel that addiction is essential to live. Because it essentially gives you a purpose to wake up every morning. I do not say this about addictions that cause harm to the person addicted or to anyone else. But as long as it isn’t harmful; addiction is good.

All of us are addicted; addicted to some or the other thing in life. The extent of addiction differs from person to person. Some are addicted to people, some are addicted to relations, some are addicted to success, some are addicted to money, and the list goes on. But the ultimate and inevitable addiction in the world is ‘hope’. Everyone is addicted to hope and hope keeps us addicted to all the other things.

I sprayed the perfume a couple more times on my shirt. The thought of addiction was so addictively refreshing. I went through the day doing all the routine things; as if I was addicted to them.

Fact remains; addiction is universal. Fact remains; addiction is eternal.

Knocking on forbidden doors

2010-02-09T08:29:00.003+05:30

During my stint at one of the Big 4, I was working on a project involving drafting an annual publication about accounting frameworks. While perusing similar earlier publication, I figured out that the language and the content used in that edition were not up to the mark and could be a lot better. My idea about the project was that it would be of research and development nature and would have scope for new writing. But I observed that others in my office were interested in finding some ready stuff from similar other publications and would copy or adapt the same.

Hoping that the seniors will appreciate my creativity and originality, I took initiative which others did not take and started drafting it afresh myself. After correcting several grammatical mistakes and coming out with a better version / presentation, I had finished a part of the writing which I thought I should show to my reporting manager.

I went up to his desk to show him what I had written. He read a few lines and said that the language seemed too complicated for him. I said that I’d rather call the earlier language too basic. But he did not seem to understand and asked me to refer to another publication and borrow the content. I came back to my desk disappointed. Just when I thought about approaching my senior manager for this, he came to my desk to see how everything was going on. I took the chance and told him that I had tried to re-draft one of the topics in a better way.

The response really was disappointing. ‘Listen; do not try to create anything new here. We have other stuff to refer to. You just borrow the content from there and proceed’And that was it. I figured out that creativity had a little or no value among them. Reason could either be their inability to think creatively, or the fear of competition. I too, hardly bothered then about how the stuff that we do looks, feels, or works. I just did as they told me to.

There are two forms of creativity; active creativity and passive creativity. Active creativity is when a person creates something on his own. But for it to be accepted, the other person must have something which I call ‘passive creativity’. Both compliment each other and none can work without the other. Sadly, my office lacked both it seemed.

Similar incident happened with my wife a couple of months ago, when she tried to introduce a new system in her organization. The presentation that she sent to her boss may or may not have been read. But there has been no reply to that so far.

Resistance to change, fear of competition, enjoying being in a comfort zone, or just plain ignorance; whatever one may call it; but creativity and originality are rarely encouraged. People still prefer walking on the laid down path rather than discovering a new one. Sad; but a fact.

Sham Devotion

2009-09-30T14:50:00.015+05:30

I have never had a noticeable belief in God or some sort of a supernatural power. I used to go to temples only when my parents did. This was the case when I was a child. As I grew up, I never really went to a temple by myself and just because I felt I should. This doesn’t mean that I disregard or question the existence of that power or whatever you may call it. I never mean to insult those who believe in it either. It’s just that I don’t really find myself believing in that power the way that people at large do.

I have had pretty bad experiences in temples and such holy places. These places are often too crowded and seem really mechanical. I am referring to the popular ones here. The relatively rare and isolated ones are still what I could possibly term as ‘temples’. These popular pilgrimages have become a sort of a rationing centre where blessings are allotted on various bases to the ones who go there. The first thing one can see is a long queue that takes you to the inside of the establishment where an idol of the deity is placed and where the “priests” carry out their job of chanting, worshiping on behalf, and accepting donations from the devotees. Due to the amount of crowd, this inside of the building is often a ‘touch-n-go’ sort of a place to be at. The priest wont let you stop and look at the idol, spend some quiet time by yourself or even pray for a while. I have been to temples where the priest would push me with his hand yell at me and ask me to move forward quickly, not to keep staring at the statues, “hurry” and such shouts. I was so annoyed and irritated every time this happened. Every time, I promised myself not to go to a temple again. But somehow, for some reason I had to.

Yet another such experience came my way this past week at Kolhapur. It was the festival of that deity and two of my relatives along with myself had to perform a pooja there. At first I imagined it to be a personalized pooja where only three of us would be present and no one else. But it turned out to be something else. As a custom, we were required to wear a holy outfit at the gates, before entering the temple. We did that, accepting it as something that the God likes us to do. I, however, did not quite want to do that. Devotion cannot have such a condition attached to it that if the condition is not matched, the prayers wont reach the God. Wearing a particular outfit cannot be a pre-requisite for a prayer to be answered. All my argument was that Devotion can never be conditional. Devotion itself is something that is unconditional. Something that is beyond all the barriers, and beyond all the conditions. I have had debates about it several times but no one seems to agree with me. No one agreed this time either. We went inside the temple; curious.

It was a messy scene as I expected it to be. Around a hundred odd people had gathered in an area measuring 100 square feet. I somehow figured out that it is going to be a hell of an experience. I do not know about others but I had started to get irritated. I however controlled myself considering the fact that it was after all an auspicious place. We were simply following the instructions given to us by a group of priests who were in charge of the ‘collective’ pooja. We were asked to stand, we were asked to sit we were asked to throw holy rice at the idol, and to say a few words in between the long chant that the priests did.

The atmosphere was too humid in there and nobody really seemed comfortable. But somehow, everyone acted like it was how it should have been. Moreover, it was overly noisy with the guards blowing their whistles aloud to regulate the crowd and the crowd breaking the silence every second to add to the sound. Peace was absent. Purity was absent. I wonder how God survived inside.

As a part of the whole process, we had to put our hands in the red holy powder called ‘kunku’
and then touch the holy pot. It was again a queue to do that. When it was my turn, I did put my hands in the holy powder and before touching the pot I took a few seconds to flick it off my hand. The priest was in a hurry and as a result, shouted at me ordering me to touch the pot quickly and move forward. By then, I really was at the peak of my tolerance level and I could not control after he did that. I yelled back louder. I swore at him to attract a hundred shocked eyes to look at me. I didn’t really give a damn. My relatives who accompanied me, signaled me to calm down and have a seat where there was no place to sit really. I did try to follow what they said and moved forward.

By this time, my curiosity in the pooja, my excitement about the prayer, and the tiny little amount of belief that I had tried to incorporate in my mind, had disappeared. I was just thoughtless and eager to go out of the temple and get some fresh air. The pooja was concluded with a common prayer. We moved out of the way. I was just having a look at the number of people who had gathered there; their faces and the expressions of devotion on them.

I really wondered as to what their reason could be to come here. What do they look for when they come to a temple? For me it was more than an idol, more than a religion, more than a name, more than a thought, more than a place or a method or an outfit for that matter. When I think of a temple, I think of peace. I think of purity. I think of the atmosphere that forces you to look into your heart and think. I think of the silence that makes you close your eyes and listen to your heartbeats. Any place which gives me the peace, the purity that I referred to, can be called as a temple according to me. As I mentioned above, I find that many of the temples located in small villages, where very few number of people come to worship, are like that. They are peaceful, more than anything.

When we came out of the temple, people who were inside with me in that group of a hundred people, were just stating that the ‘pooja’ went fine except for the fact that it was a little crowded. Everyone knew it was not the case. It was a chaos in there. It was not fine. Yet people seemed to lie to themselves when they conveniently made an attempt to pretend to have accepted the situation as is and consider it to be fine. What devotion, I must say! May be I was too far away from God to remain unaffected by the rest of the bothering things in or outside the temple.

We continued our journey. We went to a few other relatively isolated temples on our way. I really closed my eyes at those places and sat down for a while to look inside my heart and discover the strength within. I believe the strength, the power, or God as you may call it, that lies within you. I may not name it as God. It’s all that you have, all that you think, all that you say and all that you do. Like they say, Good deeds are God deeds. That is all that drives you and your life. It is really something that each person has to interpret in his/her own way. By creating such a mess in these so called big and popular temples and by building temples and shrines on every corner of the road, people make the God very cheap. And I really detest the public displays of devotion.

For me, God is nothing but your own strength. I prefer to keep it that way. I believe in it. I believe in myself; as a matter of fact.

The fight is on

2009-09-03T12:15:00.008+05:30

Too tired from a bad day at work, I walked out on the road looking to get some peace. It being a festive season, the roads were overcrowded and noisy. I walked towards the station at a slower than usual pace to realize that I had missed the train which I normally take. The search for peace induced me to board a train going in the opposite direction, so that I could get a nice place near the window to sit when it reaches its terminating point and starts back. I was so pleased to board a relatively empty compartment. I could sit in a relaxed position, stretch my legs and hands a bit, and just feel the room.

I felt asleep soon. The rhythmic sound of the train seemed like a sweet lullaby. Cool breeze added a bit to the pleasure. I never realized when did the train reach the last station on the route and when did it start back from a world full of people. I opened my eyes a little to see what the scene was. All I could see is a hundred odd people stuffed in a 150 squarefeet area of the compartment. 'It’s a long time to go till I have to get down at my station. I can relax till then and enjoy the breeze.', I talked to myself and closed my eyes again.

"Whoa! Whoa! Get in! Move in! Let him get down ******! Can’t you see he is unconscious! ******!" the sounds woke me up. It was Dadar Station and the train had halted. Countless people were trying to get in in an already over packed train. A young guy had got unconscious. I guess he must have suffocated. A man traveling with him was trying to make a way out for him but no one was ready to give one. People really lose sense when they are a part of people. I could then see that two cops had come to the scene. The cops pulled that guy out, and made him sit near the food stall. He was still unconscious. The cops then actually pushed the people inside with the help of the massive wooden stick that they carried. Animals seemed they, really. It all went on for around five minutes which caused the halt to be ten times longer than the scheduled halt. The
train started again.

Now it was just two more stations after which I had to get down. I took a deep breath and prepared myself. Soon then, my station was just the next station to come. I took out a gum from my pocket, put it in my mouth. I felt as if I am just getting ready for a wrestling competition. I took my bag and stood up. I had stepped my foot on the battle field. I slowly made my way to the passage. "Are you getting down at this station?" I asked the person ahead of me to make sure I'll get a clear path. "Yes I am" he affirmed.

TADA! The train had entered the station and was slowing down. I could see signs of chaos as the people around me had already started to shake things up. Halt! And people began to get poured on the platform. The taller ones could really jump out and move aside but the bulkier ones like the one ahead of me couldn’t really balance their weight and were getting banged on others, the door, the steel rods. Somehow, someway getting down was the only target. No one really cared at that time if they'd get hurt or if they'd hurt someone else while preventing themselves from getting hurt. Everyone was everyone's enemy. And I stepped my foot down on the platform when a group of ten odd people who wanted to get in the train began to push me in. I said I have to get down. Did anyone really listen? No I believe. I changed my direction instead of pushing them straight back. But the pressure applied by all the sides was so much that I spun like a wheel and found myself facing towards the train door again.

Man! It was the high time. I held the bar with my right hand and the door handle with my left. I had to do a 600 pound bench press now. I pushed myself back with all the strength I had and secured some place for me there. Just when a guy tried to enter the train from the right, I pulled him back with his hair. I banged my left elbow at someone's chest. I was almost there. I had almost made it. One last push and I could be walking free on the platform. I did it. I pushed another guy aside with my knee and got down successfully.

Wow! What a feeling that was. I had won the battle. Although I have been used to traveling in crowded trains, I had become lazy during the past couple of years. It is not the case that I cannot face the crowd. I had built up a nausea towards it. It feels like I waste my strength by fighting with the senseless people everyday while travelling. It has become a daily affair. It’s a great mood-spoiler. One that makes simple things look like big problems. I realized that. Just like I realize everyday a few hours after commuting like that, that those few hours could have been so much more pleasing had I not let my mood spoil because of the memorable journey. A lot of people would suggest me to use alternate modes of travel but no matter how it is, there will be things that can possibly spoil one's mood easily.

I remember a statement my professor used to make quite often. 'Learn one thing in your life; Fight'. Yeah we need to learn to fight. Fight with either the things and the people around when they try to affect you, or with yourself when you don’t want to get affected. The fight is always on; and that’s really a fact that remains.

Submitting to stupid rules

2009-08-28T19:57:00.001+05:30

As I walked down towards home one day, I heard someone calling my name. I turned back to see who was there. It was an old friend of mine walking briskly towards me. He had a heavy bag on his back. "Relax. What are you doing out here at this time? Its eleven o'clock in the night" I asked. "Just returning from office yar" He said with a very low voice. He looked really stressed out and tired. "I joined this new company a few months ago", he continued, "it was not expected to me that they'd take me. I had applied very casually. But I guess it was my destiny to work with them" "Destiny??; since when did you start believing in destiny dude?" I asked. "Yeah it is like that" reluctant, seemed he to discuss more about it. "Alright Alright. But tell me what did you do after college? What is the nature of your work?" I still wanted to talk the same subject. But I took a long and smoother route to the destination.

This friend of mine was very brilliant. Studious, I should say. Being amongst the top 3 students was like the whole definition of academic excellence for him. Obviously so, we never had been in touch really. He then told me that he had done some professional courses and had got some management diploma certificates. "Do you still meet those college friends?" I asked. "Not really. All of them have got so busy in their own stuff these days. There was this guy who stayed in my town that I used to be in touch with. But now he too has got a job and has become a rare specie
like myself. So now there is practically no one whom I'm in touch with. Its such a pain."

He did not want to talk about his job really, but he was so affected by it that unknowingly he was coming back to the same topic no matter what. "Why do you have to work for such long hours? Is it sort of a peak season for your company or.." "Its not about seasons. Its about reasons. Everybody has a reason." "What reason do you have then?" I got a little aggressive. "I need money. I need money for myself, for my family. I have to support my parents. I want to get married to a girl but she wants me to earn some freaking sum of amount every month. I cant have all that If I don't work like this" He continued advocating his own helplessness.

"Listen, it doesn't mean you have to sacrifice your personal life for that. What are you going to do with all that money when you don't have time at all to spend it? What is the point in returning home with no energy to even smile at the people waiting for you there?" "Duh" I guess he had no answer to this. In fact, he had, but he could not accept it. He abruptly said that he had to go some other way and took a turn. And I kept walking down the main street thinking about this.

People actually submit to some stupid rules and cultures established by the community at large. I mean, who likes to come home every night at such a time where there is no one on the streets except for some stray dogs; at such a time when everyone at home is either asleep or just forcibly keeping eyes open to see you arrive and then they could go to bed peacefully. People still accept situations like it and live like that. What is amazing that they are still proud of it. Proud of the money that they 'earn'. Proud of the 'positions' that they have.

I felt pity for him. More importantly, for his complaining tone. If a person does work like that, he should not complain. If one really doesn't like it, then he shouldn't just complain, he should do something about it. The thing is, people fear. People fear to be real. They fear that if they do not do the things that the majority of the world does, they will not get the things that the majority of the world gets. And that is why, they continue to live 'like' someone. They continue to dream to be 'like' someone. It is not a great thing honestly, to be 'like' someone. Greatness comes with uniqueness. If eiffel tower is great, it is because there is only one eiffel tower in the world. As simple as that.

My friend was not the only one who submitted to such undesirable work cultures. Its a stream. A stream of people in the world who work like this for whatever reasons they might have and be unhappy about it at the end of the day. There is no point in knowing if there is really so much of work to do or not. Its all about keeping a balance between work and life which many employers claim to provide but the reality does not really match with their claims. People should never just accept things like that. One should know when to refuse. One must refuse to work like that. If one person does it, there will be five other people backing him up. And I believe working conditions are much better in developed countries. Work gets over at five thirty and people actually Have a LIFE there....

I was really thinking too much. I was annoyed. Even I had a heavy bag on my back. I was coming home from office. Fact remains; I hated it. Fact remains; I was doing it.

Gaining through the loss

2009-08-27T12:17:00.001+05:30

And I stood in front of the mirror in my room. It was a long monday. A lot had happened, a lot was thought, a lot was found and a lot was sought. I left for office in the morning as usual. I waved 'tata' to my mother, my father, my sister, and my wife. I reached office on time, began with my work and stuff. But something was running at the back of my mind which I did not let show on my face till it was somewhere around eleven o'clock when I checked the website where the results of the exam were to be declared. This exam is a professional exam that I had appeared for. Its a devil of exams as my fellow students say. The most feared exam of all and what not. I checked that website and found out that I had missed it by seven marks. And this was the second time that I had missed it by such a short margin.

Something struck me inside. Something like a storm, a lightning or an earthquake. I quietly went out of the bay. I went to the coffee machine, grabbed a coffee and sat down on the staircase. No one was there. A normal student would have felt sad about the result. He'd be frustrated, discouraged, demotivated, irritated or whatever. I never had any such feeling at that time. Not even for a second. I was calm. As if nothing had happened and as if its a usual affair. For me it was just the second time, but I had heard stories about people who failed this exam for more than 10 times and felt sad everytime. Then why didn't I feel sad? Why was I not frustrated?

As the coffee continued to get colder, I got a feeling which a prisoner would get after being released from the jail. I could visualise myself coming out of some strange door and looking at the sky once again. Was it because I never wanted to be behind that door? or was it because I couldnt really survive there in that room? I wasnt alone, to say that no one was there for me. There were people. Hundreds and Thousands of people who inspite of several failures continued to try to get through the examination and be called a professional.

I called a few close ones to inform about this. My wife, My mom, and another person from whom I had taken some advice. The rest of the day went pretty normal. I believe some of my colleagues must have expected a party from me that day but they might have figured out that it was not a moment to celebrate. I'd not have minded to throw a party though. Because somwhow for me it was.

I came back home at regular time, dropped my bags, washed my face and I stood in front of the mirror in my room. I looked at the image in the mirror. He wasn't same as me. His smile said a million different things to me than which I had in mind. "What are you going to do?" He asked. "Are you going to take it again? Oh yeah you have to take it again, its your principles that drive you. You never quit. You never back down. Fine ! But tell me one thing honestly, is it really what you need to do? Is it really something that you WANT to do? Is it something you can proudly associate yourself with? Tell me."

I couldnt really find answers to all of his questions. Yes I had to take it again, no doubt about it. But it had never been something that I really wanted to do with all my heart. It was completely my choice when I had joined the course. But moving forward, when efforts started to mismatch with the rewards, I began to lose interest in it and at that point I felt like, 'well, hold on, where am I heading, and for what?'

I believe, very few people in the world dont really face this question at all in their lives. Very few, get to do what they love to do. Enviable, at times. I had read a good quotation somewhere. It said that it is infinitely better to live a life of catastrophic failures, than to live a life of could hav's should hav's and would hav's. I really found it true. I had decided. I had decided to go ahead with what I was doing. I had to get done with that exams and stuff once and for all. But I decided that I will never wait for that 'one day' when I will do what I love. There is no 'one day' like that. If there is, it is today. I wanted to start doing what I love right from that very day. I decided I will never wait to do a thing I love. I may fail, once again just like I did in this exam. But I will never have to say that 'I could have done this' or 'I wish I had tried this'.

I never like to be 'a part'. I always strive to be 'apart'. That is my own principle and I decided to stand by it. I never had been 'a part' of all those fellow students when they discussed about studies with intensity which was far lesser than the intensity with which I discussed about things like photography, travel, driving or technology at the same time. And I decided never to be 'a part' of the people who wait for the so called right time to do the things that they love to do.

Though it was a failure on paper. It meant something very different for me. It gave me not just the strength to take my shot again at the exam, but also made me re-discover myself; my interests, my preferences, and my principles. I thank the examiner for this. This blog is an outcome of that very feeling which I described above. Though its not the topic that I really wanted to begin with. But I did. I feel happy for that. I really mean it when I say that its not always right to wait for the right time. Fact Remains; I had failed. Fact Remains; I had gained.