Music, Madan Mohan & Me

The last few weeks have been tough for assorted reasons. The one thing that got me to unwind and get ready for the long back to back days was music; especially the old Bollywood classics. As the rough patch started to ease, I got back into the rhythm of practicing and singing. I first started with a few chosen Raag Yaman songs, then it was Taal Keharva, this was followed by Rafi melodies, which preceded Kishore da renditions and finally today I was hooked on to the legend that Madan Mohan was. 

While I have to admit that my appreciation that the legend that Madan Mohan peaked when I fell in love with "Tere liye" from Veer Zara, some of his songs have been childhood favorites. "Zara si aahat hoti hai" by sung by Lata Mangeshkar, "Teri Aankhon Ke Siva" by Rafi and "Tum Jo Mil Gaye Ho" a Lata and Rafi duet are not just pure gold but are terrific examples of Mandanji's versatility. 

Born in Baghdad, he breathed his last in Bombay at a very young age of 51. However, in that time he gave music to about 100 movies and for singers that ranged from the gazhal maestro Talat Mahmood to the effervescent Kishore Kumar. His partnership with the Nightingale is the reason we are blessed with melodies such as "Baiyyan Na Dharo", "Aap Ki Nazaron ne Samjha" and "Ruke Ruke se Kadam". The list is endless. 

It's not just the pathos and the depth that his music had which differentiated him, or that he used the influence of gazhals and classical music seamlessly; but it was his ability to weave all of this deftly with the lyrics and mood of songs across movie genres such as war (Haqeeqat) or tragedy & romance (Mera Saya) or haunted spirits (Woh Kaun Thi). That is the sole reason that every song of Dastak is unforgettable and even an amateur like me has to sing every song of Woh Kaun Thi. If songs were a weave, warp and weft of these melodies would leave even the most talented weaver struggling for years to understand how to get the craft right! 

As I was going through his body of work I realised that as far as lyricists go, about 50% of his work is with three - Raja Mehdi Ali Khan, Kaifi Azmi and Rajendra Krishna. In fact both Mera Saya and Woh Kaun thi are Mehdi Ali Khan babies as is Anpadh. I will admit that Anpadh is maybe as an album not at the same pedestal as the other two but who can forget the overwhelming love that is poetically and profusely expressed in "Aap Ki Nazaron Ne Samjha"! 

And that took me back to a discussion I had with a music expert many years ago. During a conversation I mentioned that while the melodies of Veer Zara were honey sweet, the soul haunting song in the album was just one - "Tere Liye". It was only this that compared to all the gems mentioned above. The expert highlighted to me that it was because it was this song that paired the right raag, the right melody with the right lyrics. It was the perfect pairing that created a masterpiece which touches the depths of the listener's heart each time and every time without fail. 

And so as I switch from humming "Zara si Aahat" to "Aapki Nazaron Ne Samjha" to "Tere Liye", I thank the legendary Madan Mohan for leaving behind this treasure trove of melodies which are soul food for music lovers and a blanket of comfort for one and all. 

On that note will call it a night! Have a good one peeps! 

It's The Small Things

The last few weeks have been a reminder on how it is the small things that really help make or break just about anything - relationships, work processes, safety of people and security of assets. The big things everyone takes care of, but it is the neglect of the small things that adds up to create that one big event that maybe could have been prevented. 

I will not be cryptic anymore. To start with, I will take a personal example. Walking with my sister on a particular day I felt a twinge in my ankle. We were out to run eraands and I was in New York, not where I live. So I ignored it as I did not want to be a burden. The next day, out for lunch the ankle really started whining so I told her to slow down and then again ignored it. When we reached home that evening for a dinner with cousins I opened my shoes to find the darned joint swollen. It was at this point I remembered the suffering of an old ankle ligament tear and the six weeks I had spent in case. So mortified of being there again, I started to ice, elevate and took anti inflammatory as I have never been prescribed before. Fortunately in this case it was not too late but it did take some joy out of the trip. Only if I had paid attention on day one! And while my doctor back in India has given me a clean chit he has also advised to stay away from the heels. Now you see, I do not know if that is a BIG thing or a small thing. Till I make up my mind I am going with three days a week with heels. Vanity may just get me but what can I say....

The above is probably no harm no foul. What I faced next is major. So I had lent a mobile to a friend who was visiting India. Not a sim card but only the mobile. Data was erased and it was practically empty. As he was leaving the country he said he would leave the handset with the conceirge at the hotel and I could pick it up. When I did, I strangely found that the handset was unlocked. I enquired and he mentioned that as this was a temporary device and not his, he had not warranted to create a digital lock. Not what I would have done but ok. I once again erased the phone and put it away. A couple of days later the same friend called telling me that he was getting lewd emails with India contact numbers. I was stunned. We were trying to understand how someone got his email address when I realised that his phone, out of his custody was with the conceirge. Was there any chance that his mail ID had been active on that? Bingo! There. A small act of oversight created nuisance for him!

This still is potentially being left a little too easily. I think its the next one that is keeping me awake this Sunday night. Sunday before last was our building had its AGM followed by lunch. As this clashed with a pooja at home the AGM had to be skipped. However, after the AGM I insisted on finishing my work and then going down for lunch. Well I would miss meeting those who would leave early but at least I would meet the others. So I attended to what I thought was important and then made my way to the lunch. It was a delightful event and it was so good to be meeting everyone, so freely, after all this time. What I did not realise was that I had lost my last opportunity to meet with one of our residents, a jovial individual who would always smile and have a conversation. Suddenly yesterday he passed away due to a heart attack! Within thirty minutes it was all over! And I had the chance but I lost it. 

It was a small thing to have met my neighbours but it became a big thing today. The big thing of two weeks back I now realise I would have anyway taken care of as it was BIG. But in the bargain that I made the small thing cost me more. So as I am trying to sleep, I am trying to tell myself that maybe its the small things that really do matter and I need to be more attentive towards them. 

Adios amigos and may you all have a great week ahead!

The season of festivals

It's that time of the year when the festivals start coming one after the other, bringing in loads of childhood memories and wisdom of adulthood. Typically festivals are associated with revelry, food and prayers. I enjoy all that and the beautiful flower arrangements that adorn temples and entrances. Yet as the years have gone by, it's the learnings of the festivals that has stood out most for me. 

Let me start with Janmashtami, the festival that marks the beginning of all major festivals of the Hindu calendar. This festival falls in the Hindu month of Shravan on the eighth day of the waning moon cycle. I am smiling as I am writing this, because this maybe confusing even for those who follow Janamashtami. The Hindu calendar is a lunar calendar and has two halves of a fortnight each - the waxing moon cycle and the waning moon cycle. The month of Shravan is the monsoon month put very liberally and it's so apt as legends have it that Lord Krishna was born on this day to be welcomed by a torrential downpour. 

Before I get into the learnings of Janamashtami, let me share the revelries around this time. As children we would begin celebrating eight days in advance by preparing unique and diverse tableaus each day. Usually we would use vegetables on day one, fruits on day two, colours on day three, our toys on day four, fabric on day five and ultimately flowers on day eight. It was a community affair. More recently my paternal grandmother used to lay out a tiny swing and on it she would get her little Krishna to sit and swing him gently while singing sweet bhajans. Her devotion was unparalleled. She was the one who regaled my childhood with the glory of Kanha, as Krishna is fondly called. 

The Benevolent One was the one to acquaint me with the learnings from Krishna's life. He called him जगत गुरु, or the Guru of the Universe. As a Guru, Krishna showed how to navigate the most complex and tumultuous situations in life with grace and dignity. He was born in a prison where his parents were apprehended by his maternal uncle, he grew up away from his biological parents, had multiple attempts at his life from infancy, had to kill his own maternal uncle and was cursed that his entire lineage would vanquish. Yet, despite all these extremities he maintained his grace, fought for righteousness, helped all those who came to him and ensured that he kept his promises. In fact it was to enable the reign of righteousness on the planet that he imparted the knowledge of Bhagwat Gita to Arjun and impressed upon him that his duty was to fight a war with his own cousins. It was this war that got him cursed by the mother of slain Kauravas, who while in the wrong all the while were nonetheless a hundred dead sons of a mother. The grief of losing a hundred sons pushed Gandhari to curse Krishna that the Yadu dynasty would perish and so it did. Krishna paid a price for his life's mission from infancy, a price that was too steep. If only we could stick by our ideals and our values to even ten percent of this, the world would be a better place...

Closely following Janamashtami is Ganesh Chaturthi, a beautiful celebration of communities and families coming together to pray and bond. To be honest this is more of a tradition in Maharashtra, Goa, Andhra Pradesh and to some extent in Karnataka and Gujarat. In rest of the country it's a low key pious festival. This fourth day of the Shukla Paksh (waxing moon phase) of the Bhadrapad month marks the birth of Lord Ganesh, the God of clearing all obstacles and the giver of all joy, intellect and spiritual powers. In 1893, the great Lokmanya Tilak or Bal Gangadhar Tilak, organised the large public celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi as an attempt to unite Indians in the fight against the British. So on Ganesh Chaturthi, Ganpati idols were installed in large pavilions and for ten days communal prayers were performed and a strong atmosphere of oneness was formed. On the tenth day, a day before full moon, the idols were immersed in water marking the disappearance of all obstacles. 

This tradition has continued and expanded in the states mentioned above to the extent that no political rally, no other procession, no celebrity and no occassion can ever see the huge disparate crowds as those that gather for bringing of Lord Ganesh into the pavilions and then taking the idol for immersion. Today the idols are made of clay once more after less environmental friendly materials ruled the roost till a few years ago. Climate change is foremost on minds of those celebrating and it's not just Hindus but people across religions who invite people home as their special friend graces homes on his annual retreat! There is no other festival that exemplifies unity even today more than Ganesh Utsav. There is no other festival that gets people to pray and thank together like these ten days. There is no other festival that humbles the soul with devotion as this. If only we could stay as united, grateful and grounded the whole year round, the world would be a better place...

Soon after we bid goodbye to Ganpati with a promise to see him next year, the time to celebrate the nine form of feminine supremacy arrives. Navratri, literally the nine nights, is the most important festival in the east and the west of the country where the Goddess is the prime deity. Nine forms of the Goddess are prayed to over a nine day period with nightly dance offerings, cultural events and food being cooked, served and eaten in large public gatherings. This time these gatherings are colossal and grand in West Bengal, Gujarat and Delhi with some grandeur being seen in cities with large Gujarati and Bengali population. Each day has a colour that goes with it and devotees attempt to adorn finery in these colours. Preparations for cultural performances in West Bengal and with Bengalis across the world start months in advance. In Gujarat and with Gujaratis it's time to buy their best ethnic wear and win in the large dandiya (a traditional dance) competitions held across the globe once again. In Mumbai I have seen large markets selling traditional wear in a range of colours and all dandiya revellers buy these anew, each year, every year! 

For a country that the world sees as not women friendly, this season is the season when we not only worship the feminine but also acknowledge that without the feminine the masculine is incomplete. That it's Shakti (the feminine, energy) that nourishes Prakriti (the masculine, nature). That while the feminine can procreate and sustain, it can also challenge evil and destroy. There is nothing that the feminine cannot attempt and succeed at. Each of the nine forms of the Goddess are prayed to provide the devotees with the nine boons to live a complete and fulfilled life. It's true that we have come a long way in our appreciation and empowerment of women, but it's equally true that a lot still needs to be done. If we could only see ten percent of the Goddess in the women around us, the society would be a better place...

The day after Navratri ends is the day of Dussehra, a day that marks Lord Ram's victory over Ravana and hence the day that celebrates a victory of the good over evil. Through Navratri, while the east and the west have their celebrations, in the north of the country there are preparations for Dussehra that are also underway. One of the biggest features of this is the enactment of the story of Ramayan at large public gatherings on open stages, called Ramleelas. Contrary to the ethos of Navratri, the Ramleela troupes have men playing the role of women. Of course this too is slowly evolving. As the troupes are not professionals most often the Ramleela rehearsals once again bring communities together, and even where professionals perform families go together to view the play through out the nine days. On the tenth day the character of Lord Ram burns an effigy of Ravana, marking the demon's defeat. This is an event where as children we would clap, jump, hoot and celebrate. Candy floss was eaten at the Ramleela ground and story of Ramayan told again and again. 

Ravana was amongst the most intellectual beings of his era. Whether it was the scriptures or music, whether it was the art of war or economics, whether it was architecture or medicine; he was a know it all. He was the foremost devotee or Lord Shankara and so accomplished that the Lord entrusted him with composing the Vedas to ragas. Sadly, his accomplishments were shadowed by his lust, arrogance and greed. It was this that led him to kidnap Goddess Sita who was married to Lord Ram. While the Lord made attempts to convince him to release the Goddess, Ravana believing that he was immortal challenged the Lord and that led not just to his downfall but that of the entire Kingdom of Lanka. If only we could all recognise our shortcomings and just ten percent of the times not give in to avarice, cravings and our ego, the world would be a better place...

The season of festival finally ends with the grandest of all festivals, Diwali or Deepavali. This is the festival of lights which marks the return of Lord Ram to Ayodhya with Goddess Sita after a fourteen years exile at the end of which Ravana was killed. It is celebrated twenty days after Dusshera and falls on the no moon night of the Hindu month of Kartik . In the south of the country the day is celebrated one day prior to mark the victory of Lord Krishna's consort Satyabhama's victory over the demon Narkasura. While both underlying reasons are different, the festival is celebrated by lighting of lamps, cooking feats, buying of new clothes and cleaning of homes. Gifts are exchanged both personally and professionally, and this is a public holiday across the nation. Offices and homes in the north also start their new financial year with prayers offered to the Goddess of wealth Laxmi. It's my absolute favourite festival and one that since childhood has involved flower garlands, rangoli (colourful patterns created on the floor outside homes and temples), lots of diyas and best of traditional Marwari food. I wait every year, even today, for Diwali to arrive. 

Diwali to me marks the day where the Lord kept his promise to his father at great personal discomfort and suffering. It marks the day when his younger brother relinquished overseeing the governance of the kingdom as the rightful ruler was back. It marks the day when all personal differences are forgotten and families come together. If only, through the year we could have ten percent of the integrity, honesty and dedication that Lord Ram and his brothers had, the world would be a better place...

These festivals are not just learnings and celebrations but they define a way of life that has been handed down generations. There are underlying deep associations with each one. In our more modern lifestyle we choose to overlook this and get consumed in our own materialistic pursuits. I do believe that a step back and a thought given will help us realise the value that we have been handed. It definitely will help us enrich our lives and in the process maybe leave a better planet for generations to come. 

On that hopeful note, this is an end to a long post and wishing everyone a happy weekend. 

A Life Worth it All

Last evening as I logged on to Twitter to track the CoVid cases in Mumbai, I came across the news of the sad demise of Anshu Jain. I never worked with him nor did I have the opportunity to meet him. But still the news hit me.

As a newbie in London having just started as a banker in 2004, the rise of Anshu Jain to being named the co- head of Deutsche Bank Investment Banking was a huge motivation. He was only 39 and a non German speaking individual. Well if he could break the "glass ceiling" as an Indian woman I felt I could too. In fact he also started out in the field of derivatives and that being my chosen path as well made his success even closer to me. 

A few months after Jain had taken his position, I met with a trader who was fairly close to him. I heard about his passion for the business and the many hours of hard work he put in. This individual spoke about how he had fierce loyalists in the bank, who were not just supporters because he was responsible for their successes and achievements but also because he generously shared his personal space and formed bonds. It was the first time I had heard of such fan following in the banking world and that created an impact on me. While hard work and pouring my everything into my job was a part of me, I began to observe people more after I heard about Jain. The leaders who created an impact, I guess that is what I was trying to learn. 

As my career progressed I kept following Jain. His ouster from Deutsche Bank was acrid. It raised far too many questions, on both sides, for me. Yet the one thing that I observed was how he bounced back. Not just with Cantor Fitzgerald but by starting InCred in India. He may have been designated as the advisor, but one look at the management team and one saw ex Deutsche Bank all across. It was him that was the pull and certainly the vision. That he continued to create an impact in the financial industry truly showed the grit of the man and that was reiterated when I read that he outlived the doctor's prognosis by 4 years! Trust Anshu Jain to do the never done before! That's what his life was about! 

Having had the above thoughts just yesterday, I woke up this morning to read that another financial industry stalwart in the country had passed on. Rakesh Jhunjhunwala was at the launch of Aksa Air just last week. I am not sure how many knew of his illness though many knew that he had multiple ailments. Yet his public appearances were always filled with optimism and a child like enthusiasm. I remember once attending a conference around 2010 where he was speaking. Someone asked him his take on the international investors' stance towards India and he in a very Rakesh Jhunjhunwala style said ," They need us more than we need them." As a banker this confidence was both refreshing and over reaching at that time. But it made me dig deeper into the reason for his conviction and value investing is something I started to appreciate tremendously.

What happened to the world of music with Lataji and then Pandit Sharma seemed to have happened to the world of financial services in the last two days. None of us can escape the universal truth that is for sure but it's only some of us who live on even beyond our mortal remains with a population larger than just our near and dear ones. Those of us who do, do so not only because of fame, accolades and success but also because of the impact made on the lives of others. That is a legacy that is difficult to beat. 

Many years ago, in one of my first leadership development courses, I was part of a cohort that was asked to design their tombstone. It was a very powerful exercise but that is for another post. I took all the time that we were allotted. Yet I could not come up with anything that sounded "cool". All I came up with was, "the one who made a difference". Today I realise that early influencers in my life from the Benevolent One to my parents and then to my professional influencers from Kong to Anshu Jain to many others after that have been influencers because they made a difference. Subconsciously, that defined me as an individual and created my brand. For that I am tremendously grateful. 

To be able to help someone, to be able to provide comfort someone and to be able to help someone achieve their dreams; the opportunity to contribute thus is made available to the fortunate I believe. As the Benevolent One once told me, "those who love should never be sad because there is so much joy in giving and only the generous can." I did not appreciate it then but I hope that now I can embrace and implement it. Father once said, "if we have been given the means and resources, it's not just for our benefit but to be shared with those who are really in need." He and mother have always exemplified this in action, multiple time over many many years. Kong showed me how much he cared when he took away my phone to stop me from reacting to a work situation from a position of fear. Anshu Jain showed that a leader could be a task master and yet a strong personal guide. Rakesh Jhunjhunwala exemplified how to simplify the most nuanced lessons so that everyone could benefit from deep learnings he had acquired. 

As the two days have once again shown the impermanence of life, I look back at all my good fortune and am indebted for the blessed opportunities I have had and the people in my life. I also sincerely hope that with all these influencers in my life I can live up to being a small percentage of these stalwarts in terms of the people that they are. Where once my professional ambitions were moon high, today it's my personal dreams that take precedence. And as none of us know when our time will come, I hope that while I realise all my personal dreams I can also really start living a life that will make a difference. 

On that note I pray that the almighty grant eternal rest to the departed souls and may He grant long and healthy lives to the influencers in my core circle. With that prayer it's a wrap for today. Have a great week ahead! 

Being Me - Another Weekend Thought

Yesterday as I was making my way out of a lunch meeting I saw a familiar face. An old client from my banking days. I had not met him in years and so walked up to him and said hi. With my mask on he took a minute and then exclaimed, "it has been years! Where have you disappeared?" As I mentioned that I had left banking and moved to manufacturing, he mentioned that he knew about my career to date and a "common friend" keeps mentioning me. I was surprised at this. I think I know the common friend but the fact that he knew my career journey was a surprise. I was humbled. With a promise of meeting soon I left, a promise I intend to keep. 

As I was driving away I could not help but think when is it that I have remembered people and followed their careers even if they have not been in touch. My own experience has been that it was when someone made an impact on me. Take Kong for example. I have written about him before but it is important to mention him once more. Kong had a deep impact on me because he cared. As a newbie in banking and in London he cared about how I grew as a professional and groomed as an individual. A German lawyer, he was almost like my self appointed Indian older brother. He was the one who helped me navigate tricky situations at work, got me books to widen my reading genre and he also encouraged me to focus more on my own brand. He was the first person who made me realise that each one of us is unique and our individual brands should be celebrated. I may not be in touch with him regularly but I follow his moves. Social media just makes that so easy! 

With the above realisation I was forced to think what did I do that made this client remember me. The only incident that comes to mind is the point at which I expressed my concern on one particular clause in the terms and conditions. Detrimental to the investors, as it was drafted, the clause enabled the investee company to sell some of their assets without the investor consent. It was not a straightforward verbiage but on close reading that's what it delivered. I brought this up multiple times, however, as we were short on time and given the trust between the investor and the company the decision was not to contest. Still uncomfortable but having done my bit I closed the transaction. Low and behold, a couple of years down the line the company used the clause to their advantage! I am not sure what transpired between the two parties pre and post exercise but I personally did feel that the "trust" was misused. 

Maybe it was that or maybe it was something else but the fact that he recollected me and knew my current whereabouts made me realise once more the value of authenticity and my own brand. The one mantra that I have always followed has been to be authentic and honest in all my dealings. If I feel strongly about something I say it out loud even if it is not what "should" be said or what is "expected" to be endorsed. Professionally, on occasions it has put me in a deep minority (as if my gender did not already do that) and earned me flak of pointing out the elephant in the room. However, I have slept well knowing that I maintained my integrity. Personally, this has had me face some hurt and yet the scars are reminders that I was generous and giving. On one single occasion, only that once, where my authenticity and honesty hurt someone else I feel terrible to this day but I know that the days of hurt saved years of pain.  

So with that said I start the long weekend celebrating the opportunities that I have been granted to become an authentic and honest individual and I hope that I can continue to conduct myself with integrity and compassion even in future. 

A weekend thought

It has been the most interesting cab ride in a long time and probably the only one where the post ride mind was lost in thought. As I hailed a normal black and yellow cab to get to work this morning, there was a lot on my mind. I was trying to answer messages and emails so that I could get into problem solving as soon as I stepped into the office. But when I told the driver where to go and then started to explain, he said to me 'tell me the name of the building and it will suffice. I have been driving a taxi for 34 years now.' True to his word he knew not only my office building but all the adjoining ones by name and in some knew which organisations were housed.

However, what made this an intersting journey was not his remark about just wanting the building name. From there on a conversation started which gave me details of his daughter's recent wedding where he spent INR 12 lacs and on how a large part of that went towards a washing machine, clothes, jewellery etc; all of which his daughter wanted. A Muslim man, he exclaimed, he was blessed that a Hindu boy who was his elder son's friend had gifted him a cooler which is also something his daughter desired as a part of her gifts. He felt that he had been treated kindly by the world and was grateful that despite struggles that he faced, there were those he could count on. His thankfulness was refreshing. 

As we were nearing my office, his stories over, he asked me a question. He wanted to know when was I the most let down by someone. I thought for a while and said it was when someone with a lot of means had fought unfairly for their material gains and then denied a well earned small bonus to someone whose income was about one twentieth of theirs! Accepting my response he went on to ask me when did I think I was treated most insensitively by someone. And he wanted to know further if this was something I would call insensitive even if I handed the same behaviour to any other human being. This was an interesting question and I did not have an immediate response as we were standing in the porch of the building. He left me saying the day we would meet again he would like to hear my response. 

I first began to wonder if I had treated him with disdain, arrogance, unfairly or unjustly. I realised my conversation was polite, I courteously listened to his stories and had paid him an upward rounded fare. So I was certain that he was not pointing towards me but given the flow of our interaction it was more his idea of understanding people. And so I began to think of what treatment by others made me feel that they have been insensitive and I would not like to do that to anyone because I would not like them to feel as hurt as I felt. 

At the end of the day, on my journey home, the answer came to me. The most insensitive treatment has been the silent treatment and that is something I never ever dish out, not even to those who hurt me the same way in the past. The first time it was done was by a close friend. He just did not call back and then took shelter under the excuse of a lot of work. I explained to him that it was insensitive and especially as I had requested he call back because I needed help. He apologized but then the same occured on a number of other occasions. While I decided not to rely on this friend for help anymore or for him to be there, I still return his calls and messages. To date I have always told him that his silence on multiple occasions was insensitive and that made me take my call of not relying on him. He says to hear this hurts him but I would rather be honest than give him the silent treatment. At least it gives him calrity and a fair chance if he wants one.

Similar instances with acquaintances have also occured where they have just been silent and not communicated and then sprung out of the blue wanting a familiar conversation. I have responded, always. Sometimes with firmness and sometimes with a casual response but always with empathy. I do not believe that any human being we interact with, for some period of time, with some common agenda deserves the silent treatment.

Communication is the way the natural ecosystem flourishes. And while silence communicates more than it does not, it also is a blatant dismissal or a very in your face ignoring of another human being which is neither compassionate nor empathetic. I would not give that to anyone and the instances that I have faced this have been the times I felt treated the most terribly. 

So as the weekend commences I vow to communicate and interact with my friends and family because they mean the world to me. And it's only my actions devoid of silence that can let them know this. Have a good one all!

Finding Faith

“When we give in to love, we take charge of our lives. When we give in to fear, we lose control of our lives. So do not fear but continue your journey and you will find your destiny.”  At a very young age, when I feared venturing into the unexpected, a teacher had told me this. It helped me on a journey where I began to understand myself more and could spend the time when I had very few friends with great ease.   But then as years went by, I began to understand the deeper meaning of this phrase.

The starkest moment when this phrase became the tipping point in my life was in the early 2000s. I had been struggling to find a job. Many an interview had come and gone. I was working hard, and I was persistent. Yet fear had started to get the better of me; what if I had to return home…what if I had to lean on the family to find a job…what if…My confidence had taken a beating and I was at the lowest of the low points in my life. At that point in my life, I was the recipient of the generosity of two friends who had kindly allowed me to share their living space even though I could not contribute to the rent. Having grown up in an all women house, this was a new situation for me and added to that was my job situation. I was miserable and for the first time in my life I was not sure where my dreams and heart had led me to. Maybe I was just being a romantic!

In a tormented state of mind, I walked along the Thames, and stared across at the lit Westminster. As dusk turned into night the reflections of the Parliament suddenly made me remember what the teacher had told me long ago. It got me thinking and I began to feel some pride. I had been brave to move to a completely unknown country and work from scratch to find myself a job. Just as I was starting to feel a bit worthy, L called. She was going to visit her mother and I was free to stay at her apartment for the weekend. What a blessed opportunity of privacy! I grabbed it with both hands!

I will always be grateful to L for she was the third person to support me through that tough period. Anyway, Friday evening I entered L’s cosy and warm apartment intent on soaking in a hot bath. But as I started to run the bath I desperately desired a book. That evening I just wanted to read and listen to music as I pampered myself. Walking over to L’s bookshelf I came across The Alchemist, a book that has been my go-to for almost ever now. I grabbed it and in the bath opened it at random. As I read the words in front of me, I felt as if they were meant only for me. The following is what I read, “before  a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward the dream. That’s the point at the which most people give up. It’s the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon. Every search begins with beginner’s luck. And evert search ends with the victor’s being severely tested.”

Munching my dinner of grilled halloumi and corn I remember feeling grateful for those words to have appeared. I had given in to fears and had forgotten what it was like to be open to love and opportunity. The following Monday I had the interview which I converted into a job and as they say the rest is history.

But why am I writing this today? Because I woke up with a feeling that the world is becoming an unsafe, unhappy and intolerant place. What with the Copenhagen mall shooting, the assassination of Padma Vibhushan Shinzo Abe, the Russia – Ukraine war etc. The family health issues have been a nagging worry for some weeks now and it seems that since Little Springsteen had his accident, health of family members has needed attention. And then there are other issues that have been simmering at the back. These past weeks, for all of the above reasons, have been now I realise more focussed on my fears than the love and faith that has always helped me navigate and find happiness.

The most recent example is my strong belief that Little Springsteen would make it back home. Yes there were many touch and go moments and there was all the agony that my little angel went through. And yet he is home, now even writing with his feet, already! His treatment is not over but this is the time for him to gain strength and then we go to the prosthetics but what victory! He was in the hospital for sixty days and of that forty in the ICU having undergone multiple surgeries! But I was always confident he would make it and he did! So today I am closing the doors on my fear and inviting my love and faith to guide me once again. As said the Alchemist, “Everything is written in the Soul of the World and there it will stay forever.”

 

Bhakti and Sufism

The Benevolent One once told me that in Kalyuga the simplest path to reach the divine was via Bhakti. He never prescribed rituals but always spoke of how the Lord was partial to His devotees. One of the mediums that Bhakti followers use to express their endless love and devotion for the divine is music. And given how dear music is to me, Bhakti was easy for me to understand. Bhakti sangeet, infact, has been a part of my life from fairly early on. 

Meera bai wrote love and longing filled poems for her beloved Krishna which Marwari grandmothers sang to my generation in our childhood. It was our first introduction to music. The Vinaypatrika by Sant Tulsidas, similarly,  is a collection of poems set to specific ragas. Each and every poem either is a praise of Lord Ram, Devi Sita or a call to them to be the saviour or a tribute to their greatness.  Bhakt Surdas, Narsi Mehta, Ras Khan and multiple other poets have left a treasure trove of Bhakti sangeet that makes a connection with the Lord much simpler for those with a restless mind like mine. Music brings focus and the poetry reaches the soul or it could easily be vice-versa. Singing bhajans for the last two years has made this realisation even stronger. 

On a track parallel to Bhakti sangeet is Sufi music. While qawalis are the most recognised form of Sufi music, the genre has many forms such as the Turkish Ayin, African Gnawa and back home Ghazals and Kafi. While I am not well versed with the foreign sub types, qawali and ghazals have often been my music of choice. 

Bhajans, qawali and ghazals; all have a proximity to Hindustani classical that makes them personally more melodious. The common use of the Harmonium and the Tabla further increases their appeal, and while I have been able to learn numerous bhajans over the last two years, I am only starting with Sufi songs now. 

Amongst my favourite Bollywood Sufi compositions is Khwaja Mere Khwaja from Jodha Akbar. On a side note, that movie also has a beautiful bhajan Mann Mohana and Ashutosh Gowariker has to be credited with getting some of Rahman's best divine music out to the world. Back to Khwaja Mere Khwaja, the tabla in this qawali adds a dimension where the devotee ultimately wants to dance for the Lord. It's tone, it's notes, it's melody are all sublime. Once I start listening to it there is no stopping me. 

This evening as my play list was on a shuffle, Khwaja Mere Khwaja started. It brought an instantaneous smile on my face. Maybe for the first time today but I heard the lyrics carefully and they brought me home to the Benevolent One. While I know He is with me I miss seeing Him and being able to hear Him. As I was listening to the qawali, the lyrics that came were as if straight from my heart to His ears - 

"टली हर बला हमारी

छाया है खुमार तेरा

जितना भी रश्क करे बेशक

तो कम है, ऐ मेरे ख्वाजा

तेरे क़दमों को मेरे रहनुमा नहीं

छोड़ना गंवारा"

He has always protected me and I have always basked under His love, sometimes even gloating that I am His favourite of all three. At least I think so; and even if that were to be a figment of my imagination, leaving Him is not an option for me. He is my faith, He is my belief and He is the one who led me down this blessed life that I have. 

As I am listening to this song end for the umpteenth time, I have also been aided by Google in identifying an instrumental version that my voice will be comfortable with. So as I now attempt to sing and record this soulful divine calling I pray that the Benevolent continues to bless me and hear me . 

On that happy note wishing all of you a restful night and a happy morning. 

Roe v Wade - Half a century of efforts drained

I am terribly sad; that is the only word I can think of that describes all the emotions I am going through. I also know that my sadness, in this case, will impact no one and is not of consequence as such. Yet as a woman, as someone who believes everyone should have the right to self preservation and privacy, I am saddened by the overturning of Roe v Wade. What is far more flummoxing is that this decision comes from the highest court of a country that is a self declared champion and moral authority of human rights. 

Motherhood, the word itself evokes smile, joy and nurturing instincts. But that is when it is a cherished desire or a choice. Anything forced is a burden and motherhood even as an elected choice is a life altering experience, so the forced option probably is more chaotic than one can even imagine. 

In the most extreme cases I am thinking of women like Norma McCorvey (who got Roe v. Wade in place) whose pregnancy is the result of an assault. A victim of a crime, forced to give birth to the consequence of the attack, can have multiple physical and mental health issues; her chronological, economic and aspirational circumstances not withstanding. Then there is the debate on nurture vs nature that has claims on both sides of whether genes pre dispose individuals to a life of aggression and crime or not. Even if nurture was to be the winner, who is to say that a tormented individual would be able to nurture a young life ably...

Reality could be completely anti a life born to a poor, socially isolated and traumatised rape victim. So at the end of the day are we saying that it's ok roll a dice to decide the fate of a new life? Of course there is the argument that a roll of a dice gives the life a chance vs abortion that takes away any chance at all. However, who are we to play the game of probability when the person who will be responsible for changing the odds potentially is an unwilling participant? Denial of self preservation in these instances is a crime in itself in my view. 

There are those who will say rape pregnancies are a small percentage. Reluctantly, but still let me accept that data point without having any facts to support or deny this claim. The thoughts steer towards to young couples not ready for a child, couples who do not want children ever and single women not wanting (yet or ever) children. This is a subset that does not want children and no contraceptive is a 100% foolproof. So what happens when they conceive? We take away their right to lead lives as they would like to? And who is the state, in a democracy,  to dictate how a couple should structure their family or to a woman or her life choices? The counter argument to this thought is that the state is speaking on behalf of a life that cannot speak for itself. Well that is why there is the so desired separation between the church and the state! What about atheists? How can the state impose religious beliefs on those who have none? Once again this set of citizens is forced into a life that is not theirs by their choice and a choice that is not creating harm, injustice or unrest to the society in any way at all! 

As I am writing this, I am reminded of a story. Before I pen that down I will state clearly that I am spiritual, I believe in life, after life and rebirth, and I am also a moderate Hindu. The story is from the Hindu epic Mahabharata and talks about the decision of nurturing a life resting with the mother. Santanu was a Kuru king who fell in love with Ganga, the river goddess. When he asked for her hand in marriage she hesitated and then before she accepted she only requested that he trust her a hundred percent and not question any of her decisions. If he did question her, she would leave him. Drastic condition by today's standards and by my own belief in transparent communication! That not withstanding and given that love is blind, Santanu crazy about Ganga accepted her only condition. Soon after marriage, Ganga conceived. But as soon as she delivered she took the infant to the river and drowned it. A shocked Santanu could merely watch. This happened seven times over and each time a devastated Santanu became a tormented bystander but did not break his vow. The eighth time he saw Ganga walking with the infant towards the river he could not contain himself and questioned her ghastly actions. Patiently she explained to him that she had promised these souls salvation and hence agreed to be their mother. Given that Santanu had questioned her motives, the vow to the last such soul was broken and the last child would live. Also as per their prenup she would leave him. The legend has it that this was the seed that planted the tree that bore the fruit of the epic battle of Mahabharata between the Kauravas and Pandavas. 

The reason I narrated the story above is because if we were to turn a blind eye to the absence of separation of the church and the state, church being used symbolically for religion, then there is merit in looking across the spectrum and we will find there to be enough advocates of mothers' rights and the saying that mother knows the best. 

Steering back to a fact based discussion, my attention is also drawn to the disabled. What happens to those women who are either physically disabled and conceive by force or those who soon after conceiving become physically challenged. How can someone unable to take care of themselves, a hundred percent independently, be forced to take care of an infant who needs to be attended to day and night! Will state provide means for these mothers and if yes who will fund that? 

Of course, at the moment it's twenty six states that will rejoice in the acceptance of this ruling. Which means there are twenty four options for the thirty six million women impacted. But to access these and the international options they will need to have adequate financing or else they will need to go to courts where their right to privacy will be shred into rags. For a capitalist country this works I think, if one has the money one has the solution. And yet it seems so inhuman and unfair. 

As a woman I love children and I believe that their innocence brings hope and learning in the crazy times we live in. I believe that we should bring children in the world but also that the world should be a safe and happy place for them. As a woman I also know the challenges that a female mind and body goes through to be able to bear children. It is not a journey that everyone may want to undertake. As a woman I do feel for the victims and the disabled and what their mental makeup could be due to their own agony. How can we force a way of life on them ! As a woman I feel that this is a pre-conceived judgement that is not just unfair and reeking of inequality, I also feel while women have silently and patiently nurtured, loved and sustained life for generations this is just putting them through a fire test they did not sign up for.

I do hope a constitutional amendment at some point will come through and on that optimistic note I sign off for this time. 

Life - Fluid as a river

Life is strange and unpredictable. That probably is the most cliched sentence to start my post with. Yet, there is no other opening line to describe what I am about to pen down. 

My last visit to Lucknow had me see a hopeful Little Springsteen but worried doctors. His physical condition was improving but not his blood reports. The doctors were worried. They also told Bruce the same. Yet four days ago we felt the blessings of the Benevolent One when we could move Little Springsteen into a room. No ICU, no HDU but a private room. What progress!

As we were rejoicing I got to know that the gentleman who had toiled to get Little Springsteen admitted into KGMC, had helped organise doctor calls for us and had personally visited Little Springsteen as frequently as he could, had passed away due to a sudden heart ailment. I was stunned and shocked. He was hail and hearty, had complained of high blood pressure and then was admitted to the hospital. For two days he was apparently on a ventilator and then it was over. Here, our little fighter has been braving through suffering and pain and has beat all odds! How the tables turned! 

This morning we discussed the fact that doctors were thinking of a discharge and so we needed to find a place for Bruce and Little Springsteen to stay in Lucknow, until such time that the wound would be stitched. That was thought through and options lined up by the evening. A video call the day before had shown a smiling Little Springsteen now sitting up on his own from the lying down position. All of these were tremendously positive signs. Lots to be grateful for!

Suddenly my phone rang at about 9:00pm and it was Bruce calling. I did think it was not his normal calling time as this is when the father and son eat. Apparently, he had left Little Springsteen sitting on the bed to go wash his hands so that he could feed dinner to the little one when all of a sudden the wound started to bleed. Bruce came back to a blood soaked bed sheet. He ran for the nurse and then wore gloves, opened the dressing and pressed the wound to control the bleeding. The attending doctors were just on their way out for dinner. It was a Sunday afterall. But this happened so they rushed to the room. Giving me this update Bruce hung up. I messaged the treating doctor. Luckily, salutations to the Benevolent One, the treating doctor happened to be on site. He messaged me with the information. And then I waited. An hour and some later, the doctor himself messaged that all was under control but due to the blood loss Little Springsteen was back in ICU. How circumstances shifted again... temporarily though, I am fervently praying! 

So yeah, strange are the ways of life and unpredictable are the ways of the Universe. I am praying for a speedy recovery for Little Springsteen, some respite for Bruce and for all our prayers to be heard! May the Lord have mercy. 

Leadership and Mindfulness

I recently read this article by Dalai Lama on leadership (https://hbr.org/2019/02/the-dalai-lama-on-why-leaders-should-be-mindful-selfless-and-compassionate) where he talks of leaders being mindful, selfless and compassionate. These are all qualities that are admirable and create a difference in the way teams perform. However, there are occassions when these three can pull a leader in different directions, creating a situation where one of the three has to be given a higher priority to ensure that the collective benefits. 

A few years ago, I was in awe of a much younger colleague. She was shouldering the responsibility of the family. It took a lot of courage to have travelled her journey and be enthusiastic and happy always. While I admired her accountability to her family, soon I began to notice that she was not as responsible at work. In order to help her deliver I had an open conversation with her and spoke to the team to ensure that they supported her as well. A significant project was being led by her and that was also a key audit requirement. I sat with her to allow her to select her deadline within the available timelines. I also encouraged her manager to review the progress and highlight any surprises to me promptly. 

When the first deadline was missed I kept calm and allowed her to deliver at a new mutually agreed date. That too was missed. Her manager came complaining about her inefficiency but he was unwilling to take any action. He did not want to "damage her career" and be the "bad boss". All this meant was that the team was becoming sluggish due to one person and the manager of the team was not ready to take corrective action. As the leader of the function this meant that I had to intervene so that the organisation's and all stakeholders' interests were protected. 

I called her to have a discussion and gave her a deadline by when the deliverables needed to be complete. Lo and behold, she had decided to take an "overseas family vacation for two weeks" despite knowing the sensitivity of the task and having not delivered on three occasions. Her manager was aware of this, was not ok with it and still had approved the leave. I was flabbergasted. In my mind, both the individuals were equally at fault and I was not sure what my next step should be. So I decided to sleep over and find a solve the next day.

Thinking of being reasonable, compassionate and mindful I called the manager and her. I told her that while she could go overseas as tickets etc had been booked, she should carry her laptop and ensure that she worked from there to be able to deliver the timeline. It would mean sacrificing some fun time with the family but if she delivered early all the remaining time would be hers. The manager was not happy with the compromise but remember he had approved the leave. Her reaction was something I could not comprehend. She flatly refused to deliver the project and said that her family was more important. That meant she would not even carry her laptop and be available for calls. I was shocked and was now mindful of the implications of such behaviour on the performance culture and the company reputation. Knowing that I needed to be a leader with consequences, I told her that was my final offer else she was welcome to resign and look for another job where such poor performance, lack of ownership and no accountability would be acceptable. She found my stance to be harsh and selfish. The manager, who had problems and was not ready to tackle them himself, found me to be heartless. And yet after a lot of mindful consideration I decided that my unsympathetic and seemingly high handed decision was right for the organisation, the collective. She chose to leave. I still admire how she rose to the occassion when the family needed her but I still cannot fathom her unprofessionalism. 

The manager did not learn his lesson even with this incident though. He continued to defend the team's underperformance regularly and sometimes in group meetings. He was just not able to be tough as it was more important for him to be liked. After a couple of such instances I decided that I had to tackle this situation too else I would have taken a corrective action only in part. The next time he defended the team's poor performance in a group meeting, I declared that any manager not being able to get the deliverables from their teams in the required timelines and with the required accuracy would see the impact on their appraisals. While this is an implicit measure of a good performance management system, calling it out was what was needed. It created an impact, different from what I had expected but it improved the the team performance. 

The manager continued to be wanting to be liked, but one of his team members decided to take the accountability of ensuring the team delivered. This was such a blessing because not only did the deliverables start coming through, we had identified a high potential who was hidden till then. 

An arduous journey, the above has taught me that as an officer of the company, my duty is to the stakeholders of the organisation. That is what I am mindful of. If with that context there are difficult situations when compassion for an individual would compromise the interest of the organisation then surely the organisation will take precedence. Of course then there are cases where tragedies happen and we may need to carve another solution that is compassionate and keeps organisational imperatives in mind as well. However, I do believe that it is not always possible for a leader to only be thinking about their teams. To be fair, they need to look at their larger responsibility and then take decisions even if they same uncompassionate, selfish and harsh. Mindfulness is the biggest ally of leaders in my view thus. 

My Little Fighter

My entire body felt like a deflating balloon slowly slumping onto the floor; only that I was still standing. My brain was foggy and emotions were all jumbled up. We had made peace with Little Springsteen losing one hand. The news of the other having to be let go also was not just devastating and destabilising but completely faith shaking. I was unable to find solace or find some strength to hold on. Pain, suffering and hardship in small measures are important to keep us honest. But this magnitude of tragedy and hardship just seemed pointless and in defiance all tales of the Lord’s ways of mercy and kindness! 

I had a wedding to attend. I had called this out even before they felt something for one another. I had to be there for their big day. And yes I was there, physically. Emotionally I was thinking of Little Springsteen. I felt being unfair, partaking in celebrations while Bruce was struggling with his emotions and the burden of all the running around. What sort of an older sister am I? The thoughts of helplessness, grief and guilt had me riled up.

Mother has been deeply anguished. So I did not want to burden her with my turmoil. Acknowledging father's work pressures I refrained from reaching out to him. It's a similar situation with Bonsai, a new mother and Sequoia, a mother with a twelfth grader. All this meant was that at the wedding I was only physically present. I felt like a wimp being unable to process and deal with my emotions but I decided it was better to be a wimp and reach out to Her for help rather than suffer and stew. I needed my mental bandwidth for a number of other tasks. 

Away from the music and the dance I called Her and she instantly reminded me that I have multiple roles and responsibilities and each one needs to be catered to with fairness. Bruce knew that I was there with them albeit not physically and maybe in person I would only be in the way. King George Memorial University is not an easy place. Maybe she had a point and so I was back to the celebrations. 

The next day, however, I woke up feeling lost and drifting. Making my cup of coffee I felt the heaviness in my soul and I was low. My mind was trying to find a solve for the situation and my body a way to cope. As I was getting ready for the day ahead it suddenly hit me that if He had presented this mountain it was only Him who could show the path to summit it. With that thought I said a prayer and decided to gather myself for the sake of Little Springsteen. There is no mountain insurmountable and I had to only find a way. Being in Jaipur I decided to visit the Hanuman temple Nana would go to. He was a great soul and I am unfortunate that I got his affection only till my pre teens. But visiting the temple that day made me feel much lighter and stronger. On the way I also ventured into the streets of Johri Bazaar where Nani would come shopping. Reliving some of those happy childhood memories made me feel better and I could attend the wedding from the evening baraat to the early morning pheras. 

As I landed in Mumbai I felt the need to hit the bed. Enroute home Bruce called to say the surgery was complete and Little Springsteen was in recovery. He had realised that the other hand was gone as well and this realisation had got a tear to his eyes. However, Bruce told me that Little Springsteen gained composure and told his father, " Fufu had said that she will get me a new hand. Why are you worried!". The strength and faith of the child had me humbled. What tremendous and rock solid human spirit he possess! I was speechless. I, older and supposedly wiser was losing my wits for days and this fighter had just decided in an instant to fight it out! I truly am a wimp! But I want to rectify that!

So in the last three days I have attempted hard to not let the tragedy get the better of me but to focus on the fact that we have Little Springsteen and his fighting spirit with us and how can we now chart a rich life for him ahead. I will not accept that he will live a compromised life. Science has progressed, he is determined and I am confident; all we need are your prayers and His mercy. If the kid can be so strong God has to be KIND! May he listen to all our prayers 🙏! 

Medicine and Music

My heart was heavy. Had been since Little Springsteen had the dastardly accident. One place the mind went was what if this has all happened because I have started my music again? It's an extremely silly thought and completely illogical, but when the heart is heavy it behaves irrationally. And while I knew this at an intellectual level, I needed reassurance. To voice my fixated baseless worry I called Her, the one who understands me as much as Mother does. Her immediate revert to me was, "संगीत तो आराधना है बेटा, यह भाव तो स्वप्न में भी नहीं आना चाहिए|" And just with Her saying so I felt relieved. 

Her words are so true; music is devotion, it's pursuit is a prayer and it reaches the soul. In fact it's the only universal constant. The note can be called a Sa or a Do but will sound the same. It can be sung as Pa or So but the frequency does not change. Nothing else; not colours, not wind, not water, nothing retains its consistency across the universe. Probably that's why memory is also aided by music. From mythology to reality we know of how music helps retention and memorisation. It was the reason that Lord Shankar asked Ravana to set the Vedas to music and expecting mothers are asked to listen to music.

As my classes have progressed I can hear my own improvement, slow but audible. I am more confident in my singing and I am enjoying trying unknown songs. Most importantly I am experiencing peace and calm. It is what has given me the strength through the happenings of the last ten days and helped me relax over the last twenty four hours when the doctor called to say that the first green shoots in Little Springsteen's recovery may now be visible. 

Four days ago I stood outside the ICU waiting for Bruce to come. I was feeling vulnerable but had to be strong; afterall Bruce is the father. I looked around and my eyes could not hold any sight for more than a few seconds. On a stretcher lay a young man in pain, unable to get up. His ailment I did not know but this was a plastic surgery and burns ICU that I was outside, so I probably did not even want to know. Next to him, on the steel chair, sat a man with an arm in the sling having had the hand amputated. Further ahead was a young girl with a facial issue that had caused the left side of the face to swell up as if there was a tennis ball inserted. As she sat outside the ICU, there was an IV connected to her hand. Further down was a few months old baby, crying mildly. What caught my heart was the cannula on his tiny little hand. How tormenting must this be! And all between these patients sat the attendants and relatives of those inside the ICU. The agony in that room was overflowing and yet there were smiles and laughter, empathy and sympathy, and mutual caring and sharing. 

The lady manning the entry to the ICU was stern but in a while she softened and herself mentioned that while Bruce was with Little Springsteen she would see if the ICU doctor would meet with me. A kind and patient individual, the doctor walked out and with a smile on her face greeted me. In detail and in simple terms she explained the nature of electrical injuries and burns, how they progress and what could be the consequences. She then went on to give me Little Springsteen's prognosis and the assurance that they were doing all and more that they could. Then came the HOD, a man who is a personality and he guided me to the treating doctor. As the gentleman approached me, he saw the agony and asked me to take a seat on the couch inside the ICU entrance. He sat beside me and began to explain the treatment thus far. He also said that the full extent of the injuries would not be known till the blood markers start to stabilise but in his experience "children and more resilient. They pull through. The cardiologist is of the same view." At that point in time a tear rolled down. I could not hold that one back but then composed myself. I folded my hands and told him how grateful we were for all their efforts and generosity and ultimately we were at their mercy. He immediately corrected me to say that we are all the mercy of the Lord! 

Having spoken to the doctors I wanted to meet Little Springsteen but his wounds were being dressed. It had been a very early morning and so I decided to go for a cup of tea. Bruce and I walked to the little hole in the wall that dispensed sugary and milky tea that had been cooked for a long time on an open fire. We both sat discussing the blessings that we had encountered. He said, "दीदी ठीक हो रहा है। सब बहुत कर रहे हैं। समय तो लगेगा।" I was humbled by his strength.

The campus of King George Memorial University is huge. So as we walked back to the ICU we had time and I understood the challenges Bruce was facing. He could not sleep as in the middle of the night he was sent with blood samples to the Trauma Center for testing. Then they sent him to the chemist to get items needed for dressing the wounds. In case Little Springsteen was in pain they would call out to him again. The emotional and physical toll that he was soaking was not showing. I felt so helpless at this situation that all I could do was hear and be there as a moral support, be the elder sister he treats me as.

Once at the ICU entrance we were told that a patient had passed on and so we needed to wait till the formalities were over. I waited. Then one individual was allowed to go suddenly and meet their patient at which the security lady got upset. If they were allowed why was I being made to wait. She asked me to quickly remove my shoes and follow her inside. Not caring about the cleanliness or sanitation I followed her. I wanted to see Little Springsteen. Keeping my eyes on the floor I followed her. I wanted to ensure that I did not step on anything sharp or into a puddle. 

As I reached Little Springsteen he looked at me with full awareness. The nurse next to him told me how good a patient he was being. I saw the amputated arm and the other one in bandages. My heart was thudding. I requested Little Springsteen to eat well and promise me that he would eat orally every day. I explained that oral nutrition was critical to his becoming healthier. Telling him that his recovery was all we wanted I was heading out when I saw a completely burnt man lying on the bed next to the child's. I reverted my gaze back to the floor and moved out. If the injuries were not sufficient the atmosphere was enough to scare the child. What sadness!! 

I came out, thinking of this when I bumped into the treating doctor again. He asked me I had met Little Springsteen. I said yes and that while he was completely aware, alert and coherent, there was visible psychological trauma. The doctor smiled gently ," of course. It's the pain, the reality and then the ICU atmosphere." And in the next breath he cautioned me that ICU is where Little Springsteen needed to be so we had to deprioritise the psychological trauma. He was right. That had to be the course of action. 

It was almost noon and I decided to leave Bruce to rest and attend to things that needed his attention. I told him I would be back before heading to the airport. With that I made my way to the car. As I sat inside I realised I was numb. There was so much pain that I had seen, so much agony and Bruce and Little Springsteen were in the midst of that day in and day out! How were they expected to be strong! It was not fair and a feeling of deep helplessness embraced me. 

That's when I turned to the only solace I know, devotional music. I put the music on shuffle and the first Bhajan that played, praised the kindness of the Guru. I bowed my head to the Benevolent One and another tear escaped. He has always heard me and been the kindest and the most generous. I called out to Him for the same once more. The next one is an all time favourite, it's a Bollywood song that talks of surrender to the almighty. The music is deeply touching. Picturised on children, it has been dear to me since I was a kid. Hearing it a couple of times I felt strength return to my body. The next one that I heard was the prayer of Lord Hanuman and it describes all that He did for Lord Ram. Finally came the Bhajan that off late is one I sing often. It asks the Lord to keep me in his sight always. By then I knew that He was listening and with that my breath came back to normal. As the rest of the songs went on playing I could feel peace return to my being and very soon I was calm, controlled and could think of buying myself yet another Lucknow Chikankari salwar kameez! I was in Lucknow and how could I not; even though I have multiple already!

Music has held me strong through the most turbulent times and how right is She is to say that music is a prayer. After all the Benevolent One had wished that I learn Hindustani Classical. His wish is always in my best interest. Maybe I have restarted music to become a better person...

On that note, I go to my daily practice and request that all you dear readers continue your prayers for my little fighter who seems to be improving. Signing off till the next post! 

Kindness, Compassion and Trauma

My heart is restless and the mind is working to be three steps ahead. I am very tempted to be stationed in Lucknow but all sensibilities tell me that I will only be in the way. So while the medical professionals are doing their magic, I am praying and requesting for prayers that will get the Benevolent One to weave His magic! 

As I came home from work on Thursday I was looking forward to a longer daily walk. Lighting my daily evening prayer lamp, that evening for the first time I came across a situation where the wick would not catch light from the matchstick. Finally, after five attempts I was successful. And as I walked out of the room I got the news that Little Springsteen had met with an accident. My heart was absolutely calm, I knew that this was not fatal; but given that this was a case of electrocution by the main transmission line I knew it was severe. So there was no question of going for a walk.

Over the next couple of hours we tried to connect with the impacted immediate family, in the remote countryside of the world, to understand the situation. No one was able to give us a clear picture nor was a smooth conversation possible. Finally about two and a half hours later we managed to speak to the doctor. The electrocution had caused burn injuries to the upper limbs. While the left arm had a wound that needed regular cleaning to heal, the right arm below the elbow had suffered significant damage and would need to be amputated. I was in shock and did not know how to convey this to the father of the child who of course had been distraught. Also I felt, as a woman, maybe I was being given the ultimate bottom line without the nuances so I asked father to speak to the doctor. Immediately on disconnecting, father asked Little Springsteen’s father if we could get the boy to Lucknow. That’s where father said he would be more comfortable getting all treatment done. His view was that even the amputation was necessary, Lucknow was better equipped and we would have better care. 

Little Springsteen arrived in Lucknow the next afternoon and went straight to KGMU. Apparently the plastic surgery department of the hospital is top notch. His young body had suffered too much trauma and there was very little that he was able to eat or drink. So the first thing was to ensure he got some nutrition. Little Springsteen's father arrived at the hospital too and I was relieved that at least the father now could see his son, speak to him and would know in real time what was happening. It did not take away the severity of the shock but it took away the anxiety due to the distance. 

With medical care now being given, we wanted to understand if there was any merit in bringing Little Springsteen to Mumbai. Doc suggested I speak to his plastic surgeon colleague. Dr T has been brilliant. That first day, he heard me patiently and then explained to me that there was no merit in bringing the child to Mumbai at this stage. For rehab yes. He did not stop there. He went on to ask for Little Springsteen's details so that he could speak to HOD of plastic surgery at KGMU. Bless Dr T! But before I could find out the bed number etc Dr T messaged that he had already spoken and the HOD was aware of the case. All due care would be taken.

I was a bit at ease, at least from a medical point of view. Then came the call that they were taking the patient to the ICU so that the extent of damage and a possible salvage of the arm could be evaluated. My hopes went up and a prayer went up to the Benevolent One. Only He can work miracles and I have seen Him perform those. 

Saturday during the day the phone worked and it was uneventful, until I got an urgent call from mother at 2:30am. The father of the patient had called mother in the US as he did not want to wake me up! How considerate is this soul in time of his own struggle! Little Springsteen's right lung had collapsed! How had that happened! And the hospital wanted the father to consent to the procedure. Mother requested me to find out more. So I called and was grateful that the doctor at the ICU agreed to speak to me. Little Springsteen's SPO2 was at 96-97 and they needed to complete the procedure soon. All my queries were answered and I told them they would get the consent. I spoke to the father, Bruce I will call him, and explained as much as I could. The procedure happened. I informed mother and tried to sleep. 

Sunday morning I woke up not knowing if I should travel to Lucknow or continue to stay put. My morning call revealed that there had been a request for some blood to be donated so that blood for Little Springsteen could be secured. Bruce did not know why the same was being requested.  As I was contemplating I thought of messaging Dr T. Profusely apologising for disturbing him on a Sunday, I explained the latest developments to him. He messaged back shortly to give me a medical perspective and conveyed that he would speak to the HOD and revert. Of course he reverted soon. Little Springsteen's haemoglobin levels had fallen and hence the blood. He confirmed that "boy is stable" but we needed to be watchful. Getting a complete low down from him took away the anxiety of the known unknown. 

While Dr T has been a blessing, Mr JK has been the angel we needed. Not only did he organise the admissions and all things needed at KGMU, he has been personally in touch with Bruce regularly. Mr JK's nephew has been visiting the hospital daily and speaking to the doctors as well. Today he assured Bruce that if more blood was needed all Bruce needed to do was to call him. In addition, one of his senior associates has been in regular touch with the hospital to ensure that the simpleton Bruce is not sidelined. Mr JK is a family friend but his generosity has gone above and beyond all norms, expectations and experiences. We are hugely indebted to him.  

As I was writing this post and bowing in gratitude to Dr T and Mr JK, I remembered what the Benevolent One always said, " जो भगवान यहाँ तक ले कर आया है, वो आगे भी लेकर जायेगा." How true is that. None of the kindness that we have experienced is due to our own doing. It's all been due to the empathy and big heartedness of fellow human beings. As this has come our way, so will the other means that will ensure His mercy continues to light our path. He who has shown us the path thus far will take us further as well. And on that hopeful note I am saying a silent prayer so that the Lord helps Little Springsteen recover soon...

A trip of memories - old and new

As I sat in the car, early in the morning, I was looking forward to catching some sleep on the five hour drive. But just as we started on our way I realised that the driver needed directions at least till we reached the outskirts of Mumbai. There went my plans of shut eye and while navigating I took the opportunity to observe the recently resumed early morning activity in the city. 

We passed by markets getting ready to open up to the early morning customers looking for fruits, vegetables and flowers. Took me back to the pre-Covid times when every morning I would wait for the fresh flowers to be delivered for the morning Pooja. The fragrance and blooming petals always brought a smile to the face. In the initial months of CoVid there were no flowers to be offered and then slowly one started to get some from the trees below. These were literally "fresh flowers" albeit not the most fragrant. 

Moving on, we chanced upon schools that displayed merry signs of having reopened with all protocols to protect in place; as in person education once again gets its due credit. Of course the students and teachers were not on campus but the security staff had started to trickle in. I have heard how resuming the daily morning routine has become a novelty for all associated with the education system. But it's good to know that children can start mingling again. 

A few kilometres and a couple of tens of minutes passed by when I saw the scene that I wish I could click on my phone. A father and a daughter on a motorcycle were driving, seemingly to the daughter's college (there was no uniform and she looked older than sixteen) and on the way, on the motorcycle, the daughter was studying! Imagine her dedication! The father, bearing this in mind was driving on the left side, slow and steady. This was totally adorable and reminded me of the days when I used to get late to get to college and Papa had to drive me to the station. As he ensured that I caught the train timely, he did not have the luxury of a slow drive but he always avoided the potholes. In fact that is where I learnt the skill of driving smoothly. The love of parents is not just unconditional and enduring but also uplifting and soothing. That is why Papa insisted that I wake him up before I leave and I know he will be awake tomorrow night till I reach home. Under his watch I know I am always loved, protected and guided.

It was at this point that I decided to start writing and took out my phone. But before I could start, another scene filled my heart with gratitude for my parents. A father was dropping his daughter to school (she was in a red and white uniform with braided hair and was about eight years old) and riding pillion she hugged him tight. Her head was resting on his back and her eyes were shut. This cute little angel was trying to catch some sleep enroute. Well someone thinks of optimising sleep like I do! This one was a sight worth a million rupees and I think will be etched in my memory for a long time. 

Talking about parents I am taken back many years. Mother was visiting me in London and we had gone shopping; an activity that tires the both of us but had to be undertaken that day. On the way home, in the tube, I sat next to Mummy with my head resting on her shoulders and her hand caressing my head. I thought this was absolutely normal for a mother and daughter till I saw the mother of a young about ten year old girl sitting in front of us, literally throw the jacket back to her daughter. The tired child had put the jacket on the mother's lap hoping for some affection but not only did she get the garment back but also a quip that the mother was not her coolie or her dumping ground. I still remember looking at Mummy and thanking my stars. Well it's not that we both don't have disagreements or even the occasional fight. But the selfless affection and care that I am blessed with makes me realise over and over again how I won the parent lottery. 

Happy thoughts probably comatosed me because soon after I wrote the above, I was asleep and woke up closer to the destination as we passed by the Gandharpale Buddhist caves. It amazes me how much of history is strewn across the length and breadth of Maharashtra! While the caves are beautiful even from a distance, I was pleasantly surprised from there on to see green fields playing with the mountains in the background. Further ahead the fields soon were making way for the rivers and streams that were gently flowing by. Even in the scorching forty degrees celcius the water was a thick carpet over the river bed. That is what makes road travel special, it makes one appreciate nature, history and culture at close quarters.

Gives you an idea of what the eyes were capturing

Before I started my return journey, back to Mumbai, I had decided to ensure that I would capture the visual of the bouncing river and the steady mountains. So as a call came in, I wore my handsfree and rolled down the window. The wind blowing was warm but in between the call I did not want to miss the opportunity to capturing the visuals I had encountered the day before. This was a difficult call and one that in normal times would have extracted every ounce of my patience. But nature's bounty had me distracted and so I appeared naturally patient on the call. I am glad for nature's sway, always, but today it was an absolute welcome interference. 

Every kilometer was a combination of the hills cradling the fields, the river and the countryside huts. Occassionally a white spire of the temple would pop out from behind a cluster of trees and that peek-a-boo made me smile. The Marathi billboards in Devnagari script were a welcome change from the Mumbai version of Hindi billboards in the modern Latin Alphabet. I was enjoying the ride when I noticed the large ball of an orange in the sky. The setting sun seemed soothing and divine. The phone went clicking again and as a result I got two shots that captures the very essence of the beauty that my eyes witnessed. 

This first shot was where the orange ball caught my attention

Can you feel the lullabuy being sung......

As nightfall landed I had no more sights to see or views to shoot, so I decided to complete some work. Nearing Mumbai, with work out of the way, I chose to complete this post hoping to be able to get it online at night. If not tonight the weekend it will have to be. Till the next post and the next time take care and stay safe.