Of Gifts and Return Gifts

Recently, a senior colleague of mine came in from the United States to meet with us.  Let me call her M. A feisty lady, strong willed and tough, she had a gentle side too as I discovered.  I liked her. She was warm and caring. She wanted to meet some orphan children at a modestly funded NGO in Hyderabad. She had come prepared for the visit having spent a whole day shopping for gifts for girls. Her goodies included some shampoo, hair oils, bright-hued hair pins and clips, some chap sticks for cracked lips and warm clothes for the mild winter of Hyderabad. Very thoughtful!

Her trip to the orphanage was eventful, both for her and for many others who she had invited to accompany her. Giving is very touching. The girls were very excited. What M did was to make sure that there was a more sustainable program that would give the orphans a decent education and a life. She had come to the place a year ago, and on that visit, had promised a girl that she would return — and she did. She gave the girls hope, a vision, a reason to live, and a life of accomplishment. Very heartrending!

Later that evening, she called her teenage son who was in college in the US, (his morning) and recounted the day, of where it all started – the day of shopping for gifts for the orphans, to the day she spent with them.  M told me about her chat with her son and the calmness that she had experienced. She added that he seemed ‘off-color’ and was more lost in the exams that were a day away. I told her that one never knows what children pick up as values, and that she could be surprised.

The next day, I met M in the morning, and she had just got off a call from her son. She had asked him whether he had studied well for his exams. He mentioned quite casually that he had gone to the supermarket and spent over four hours. M was furious and asked what he kept him away from his studies for half a day. Her son replied that he had been shopping for warm blankets and food for those affected by cyclone Sandy. He had also formed a group of friends who would help the homeless.

M’s eyes were moist. She no longer cared about the exams. Her son had passed the test, the test of what matters in life – values. She had a faraway look in her eyes.  The gift had been returned and how!  I smiled.

Of Advice — Received and Given

I am just amazed at the amount of free advice that is given out and received each day — all well intended and some very profound.  Some said in jest but precious all the same. So, here it how it all began…

‘Get up early, it makes you healthy wealthy and wise’, said my sleepy wife. It was 6 am. That morning I met my friend Ganesh from Mumbai and he mentioned quite casually that the best advice he received was from his colleague Kumar, who told him, “Sell your bike before you go to Bombay,” This seemed to be an everyday advice anyone would give, but not for Ganesh. This called for his giving up something he really loved – his bike. And yet he knew that there was some truth in the advice as given his health condition, he could not afford to take chances. He said that over the years, he could count off many near misses he has had on the roads in Bombay and remembered Kumar. Advice, oftentimes, may not be the thing you want to hear!

That afternoon, I met my colleague of many years, Ravi, and he said he received the best advice from me! I had asked him to ‘add some focus and commitment to life’ and asked him to ‘buy a house’. He had said it was beyond his means. I added that most things were ‘within your grasp, beyond your reach’, and that he should try. Today, he is a proud owner of a flat in Mumbai, and his appreciation (pun intended), knew no bounds.

This was beginning to be interesting. The same afternoon Venkat, a head hunter called me. I got the best advice from him several years ago. He had told me: “You don’t get far being a rolling stone, so don’t change your jobs every 3 years.” Precious! How can I ever thank him enough? Incidentally, he called to let me know that he had changed his job, but that is another story.

I came home. The maid servant was engrossed in her mopping. I lauded her for it. She responded saying that it was her duty to ‘do simple things exceedingly well’. Here she was giving me some sage advice in a graceful way. I was touched.

Later that evening, I met my sons, one of whom told me, “You got to relax, Dad!” And the other came in a few minutes later and added, “Dad, you got to chill!” I called my mother who lives in Chennai, who asked me to take care of my health. Big hugs, mom!  Advice was raining on me. My wife asked me not to “think too much” but remain “in the moment.” This was a Family package of advice – precious indeed!

It occurs to me that the world cares, people care, friends care, family cares and just about anyone you meet – care for you. They all express it in different ways.  We like some of the advice we get, some we don’t. I recognize that if anyone gives an advice, it is because they care!  I felt good.

A dear friend called me and advised me to pen my thoughts. Even as I write this, I am beaming with the joy of gratitude, of a day well spent – heeding the priceless advice... of the priceless!

Of Deep Desires and a (S)pot of Luck

Flash back to four years ago. He loved Hyderabad and wanted to buy a house and settle down here. He had said the same thing when he was in Bangalore a few years ago, but this time it was different. It was serious. So, he and his wife went house hunting.

First, he went to Taj Krishna, a very nice hotel which was hosting a real estate jamboree infested with upper class people. “What the heck, let me try to blend in,” he said to himself. He met a young man from a leading builder and asked for a brochure, and he reluctantly gave him one. “I should have dressed better for the occasion. Brochure prospecting is a serious business, and I should have known,” he thought to himself.  With a casual air, he asked for the price of a villa that they seemed to like.  The realtor quoted a figure that he thought was steep for a clutch of such villas. But he did not flinch. Instead, he asked him if he had anything better. Never let your guard down when buying a house.

He then picked out another bigger brochure and his amusement showed in his eyes. Now, this house was terrific. He fell in love with one that was available, that overlooked a park and had some really good frontage. When asked for the price, and it was like a blow to the solar plexus. Whew! But he held my ground, asked him to show him the booking chart and in his own hand, marked it off, and said, “I will return, keep this one for me.” His wife thought he was mad. This was way beyond any budget. “Anyways, I scored over the sales guy, didn't I?” he thought.

Life moved on. He could not afford that house. He opted for an apartment that overlooked the golf links. Life was going to be good.  He was steadily paying up for the apartment for a couple of years. Bad luck smiled.  The housing board played spoilsport and the flat went into litigation — for me and many more. He was in deep trouble. Life was at its ebb. He had paid up too much for an apartment that went into litigation!

His wife asked him to ‘perk up’ and buy a house. He loved advice. This was the best!  So, they went house hunting — again. Innumerous Saturdays were spent hunting for a place that they could call their own.  Six months of searching … and almost all properties and projects of the city were seen. None would come close to the house of his dreams, the one that he had liked.  His agent was getting tired of him.  Patience was running thin. And he asked him to see one last house, after which he wished to part ways.

The house was lovely, exactly the way he wanted, the park in front, good environs, nice façade. He wanted to close the deal and went to the builder. He was in trepidation as the prices were all too high. But the saving grace was that the prices had fallen by almost 40% owed to some regional politics (bless them!). The price was finalized. He would have to a fat loan from the bank and would now be working for many years for ICICI bank (to pay off his mortgage).

The builder asked for the booking chart to seal the deal. And as the page turned to the booking chart — lo behold, there was in his very own tick mark on the brochure — the one that he had marked off some four years ago. The dream house finally did come back to him!

I am touched by the power of deep desire and a (s)pot of luck. If you really want something, in a miraculous way, it does come to you. Not all the time, but when it does, it makes life worth living for something you deeply desire. It can happen to relationships, to jobs, and careers. Life does hold out its magic wand of goodness in all its seemingly endless road of pain and conflicts. Where there is a desire, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life and miracles.

I welcome you to my new home and partake in our humble offering of fine humor, food for mortals and spirits of the Gods, for it is I, with that big fat dream! J

Of Satellite Launches and Commitment

A recent incident within the family got me thinking about the whole nature of commitment at work. My wife and I went to Mumbai as one of the elders in the family had passed away. That day was a red-letter day in Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO)’s history: They were scheduled to launch their 100th satellite.

The younger son of the deceased – let me call him Ravi, is a test engineer at ISRO. He was to be at the launch site, and instead came to Mumbai for the funeral – shattered and scattered. After he performed the last rites of his mother, the first thing he asked when he came home was to turn on the television. He then sat in front of the TV and followed the launch of the satellite.

There, as I saw him fully hooked to the TV, I noticed a certain ambivalence in him. On one hand, there was pain of losing his dear mother and on the other, a deep sense of concern for the outcome of the launch. When the launch was declared a success, he heaved a sigh of relief. And why not! He was part of the team that had tested each and every aspect of the rocket that went into space.

Like Ravi, people in the government are not really paid big salaries. They have modest means of earning and living – very different from the private sector. The sense of commitment was outstanding! As I thought about this incident, it helped providing answers pertaining to purpose and commitment.

What really motivates people is a sense of purpose. What really drives commitment is a clearly stated goal, and a will to succeed. Commitment really comes from within. It depends largely on how you have been wired, how you have been shaped by the environment, how you have risen to the high demands placed on you.

I was absolutely in awe of all the people at ISRO and their leadership team, including former Director, Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam for instilling a culture of commitment, excellence and pride in what they do for this country. They have managed to instill a deep sense of purpose and patriotism.

Coming to think of it, the light bulbs flashed – commitment is no rocket science!

Of Math Tests & Second Chances

A profound insight into building character happened early in my life during my days in college. I was then a student of Mathematics at Vivekananda College, Madras. I remember Prof. Venkat, who taught us Theory of Automotive languages – a tough subject. Prof. Venkat, who returned from the US, was a giver. He loved to teach and accepted a salary of just Re.1. He came with the clear intention of making a difference, and he was a tough guy. As a professor, Prof. Venkat was par excellence. He was also one of my early teachers of ‘Ethics in Action.’

Mid-Year exams were approaching. The theory part was a bone crusher.  Many, like me, were not confident about the exam and we were trying to see how we could sit by the side of someone who knew the answers! I had never failed in an exam and this was going to be the first, for sure. On the day of the exam, when we all filed into the class, Prof. Venkat quickly distributed the question papers and asked us to keep them face down. We were a nervous wreck. Noticing a little flicker of fear in our eyes, he asked, “How many of you are not at all ready for the exam today?” A few of us raised our hands, hesitatingly. He said “Students sitting in room, I urge you not to copy. It challenges my imagination that somebody would have to copy in Mathematics!” Hopes faded in an instant.

Prof. Venkat continued: “If some of you believe that you are not ready, I will give you another chance. I will reschedule this exam to the next Sunday and we can have the same 3-hour text. I will change the question paper but next week would be your last chance. How many of you would want to come in on Sunday for the test?” We could have hugged Prof. Venkat. Only four people took the test that day. The rest of us came in on the following Sunday.

The incident left a deep impression on me.  Prof. Venkat gave me a second chance. He taught me to be honest. The simple deed of giving and not making a big deal about it was an act of grace. I will always remember Prof. Venkat for this magnanimous act. He taught me an important principle of human endeavor – to give people a chance. 

Over the years, I realized that it is very important to give each other a second chance. We all need a second chance – both as a giver and a receiver.  In giving you receive, and in receiving you take the responsibility to pay it forward. Recently, I was cleaning my cupboard and saw my old text book, and out fell a photograph of Prof Venkat. He had taught us more than just math … and I smiled.

This was for That, and That was for This!

Very early in my career, I had a boss who was an incredibly nice man. I was working as an industrial relations officer, in a company manufacturing explosives for use in the coal mines in the heart of Bihar – and the union leaders ruled the roost. We had a new union leader who was elected called Ishwar.

On pay day, the cashier would count and hand over pay-packets to everyone in envelopes, a far cry from today's ATM cash fed machines. Pathak, the cashier who worked with the company for over 30 years, handed over a pay packet to the new union leader Ishwar. Even as he started counting the notes, he suddenly claimed that 100 rupees were missing. The average salary in those days was about Rs1300. So, 100 Rs meant a big loss for Ishwar, and he made a big hullaballoo directing profanity at Pathak and asked all employees to stop taking their salary. A big scene ensued. Pathak kept pleading that he was not at fault, as he was a very careful man. Ishwar had started well indeed.

The matter reached the ears of my general manager Om Prakash aka OP. He was a kind man. He knew Pathak to be an honest man but he wanted to defuse the situation. OP told Pathak to compensate the same amount from his account. Pathak was in tears as this had never happened in his long career and it came as a blotch on his impeccable record. Everybody forgot about the incident except Pathak. He was confident about it was the mischief of the union leader. We all knew that Pathak was right, but the damage was done.

The following month, prior to pay day, my boss OP called Pathak and spoke something to him. We all knew that OP would tell Pathak to be careful. The word was abuzz that Ishwar was coming for his pay-packet. This time again, the same 100-rupees was missing and Ishwar created an even bigger ruckus – same ritual.

OP went to the cashier’s area, looked at Ishwar and said, “Why is it only your cover has 100 rupees less, every month? This never happens to anyone else, but you? And Pathak has been here for ages! Will you doubt your fellow being wrong each time?”

OP then looked at the crowd of people and in a measured way left the place. The crowd shouted at Ishwar accusing him of being an unfit union leader who found fault with his own staff. Ishwar had no answer and went away without the 100 rupees.

That evening, I was with OP’s office when Pathak came in and fell at OP’s feet and thanked him profusely. Seeing the bewilderment on my face, OP said he trusted Pathak and knew that Ishwar was out to create trouble when the first time he claimed he got less money. This time around he deliberately instructed Pathak to put 100 rupees less in Ishwar's pay packet, and appealed to the people about his innocence. Given the reputation of the cashier, the people were sure that Pathak was innocent. And it worked … aah what drama! That day, Pathak went home walking tall, his reputation preserved.

Sometimes it pays to pay back in one's own coin. After all ... "This was for that and that was for this!"

Of Flipping Coins and Decision Making

I had an uncle called Krishnamurthy.  We used to call him Kittu Mama – a very quiet and thoughtful man. He was very popular with all the children at home. He was non-judgmental and always supported us in any way he could.

My earliest memory of him was his taking me to a shop in Madras to buy me a candy called 'kamarakattu', a specialty in those days. I don’t see them in the malls any more. What an expectation! Like many of the things of my younger days, it has not passed the Darwinian test – survival of the tastiest!

During the summer holidays, he indulged all of us by teaching to make a special candy made of tamarind, sugar, salt mixture, stuck to a small toothpick-like stick. We used to walk around the house feeling like Edison having invented something new. Such was the power of his persona. Nowadays, we need more of such Kittu uncles.

One day, I was caught up with myself in some decision-making bind – Do I? Do I not? It was all too confusing and I resorted to the usual – flip a coin, make a wish, and see what the coin lands up with. Seemed easy! I tossed the coin and 'asked' for heads. When it landed on my palm, it was 'tails'. Hmm ... best of 3s, I told myself. Rats ... again, tails. Hmm ... best of 5s, I said to myself.

And as I flipped the coin, Kittu Mama appeared from nowhere and caught the coin mid-air. He looked at me and asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was making a decision, and of course, that I was betting on best of 5 flips of the coin and if I called correctly, it would lead me one way...

Kittu Mama looked at me in a good-natured way and said that flipping coins was a great way to make a decision, and said that we need not flip it more than once. The coin would never lie, he added. He asked me to flip for the last time, and asked me to call out if this were 'heads or tails'.

I called heads, and even as the coin went flipping, he caught it as it came down, covered the coin in his palm, and said, “What did you wish for when the coin came falling down – a deep desire?”

I said, “I wanted heads, and badly so.”

He said, “Then don’t look at the coin. It does not matter if this were heads or tails.”

The decision making was complete, even as the coin was in the air. “The outcome of the coin in his palm was inconsequential,” he added.  He said, “No more 'best of 3s' etc.”

Suddenly it all fell in place. I wanted a desired outcome, and could not decide and flipped a coin. Even as the coin was in the air, the heart knew what it wanted. That was the right answer! This was magic – what a great and simple philosophy!

Recently, I flipped a coin and even as the coin flashed in the air, I knew what I wanted … and I remembered my late Kittu Mama.