Game is never over

     Game over is a superb movie, widely appreciated, Tapasee Pannu has thrown up brilliant performance in it. I really liked the raw courage the director has shown in working on a not so common subject. Won’t be wrong if I say it is the topic that would make many extremely uncomfortable discussing openly. One thing that struck me most was the idea of faceless killers. I would rather refer them as demons since they belong to the realm of imagination. The demons haunting her had origins in her traumatic past. Her battle against them is open to interpretation and possibly most of us can rediscover them in the depths of our own psyche. Though the trauma she had been through in the past was not as vividly shown as haunting demons the connect is never missed. The demons were bent upon destroying her physically and exhausting her mentally. She fights and fights hard. The fight has three main characters coming to her rescue police, maid and herself. When she wins the last fight she is alone. The last demon runs through all the defenses put up by police and maid and attacks her. The fight ends when she kills the last demon.

         If we interpret police as an external help, maid as a close friend then conclusion is, on the final frontier you have to fight on your own for at least one demon is going to run through all the defenses and catch you. The external help may be a councilor. He has a role to play. His role is to make her aware of their presence. It has an intellectual existence. It prepares her mind for the battle through understanding the origins of demons. The maid is a close friend she has confidence in. A helping hand always a call away. An essential support when dealing with traumatic past. But the bottom-line is at least one demon is definitely going to out power external help and a close friend. There you are alone. You cannot bank on their support as they are already run over. With all the external lifelines exhausted you have no other option but to engage yourself with the demon. She wins the fight when she destroys the last demon.

         The demons within aren’t unique only to the central character of the movie owing to tragedies in her life. A closer look within our own reveals the demons we are carrying. We all have them may be weaker, may not be deadly, may be stronger but we cannot claim their absence. These demons are always faceless. They pick up the faces from our surroundings. We have our own insecurities originating from variety of reasons. From financial constraints to career growth, from turmoil at home to toxic atmosphere at work place, from trouble with children to health issues, from deprived opportunities to failures and many more, all contribute to the germination of demons within us. They are always faceless but take the face from the reality. Our own insecurities visit us taking masks of familiar faces. Our own fears meet us in people around us when we move. In general we never understand the true nature of demons within and tend to know them with the faces they pick. Obviously we never are able to overpower them. The faceless demons have unlimited capacity to multiply and change faces, even change shape. With no understanding of them we make mistake of identifying them with faces. And we find ourselves completely surrounded by demons.

         The protagonist in the movie shows us that to win the battle, and that we must, we must not depend on others. The final frontier starts when the influence of external help ends. It is a battle within and we have to put up fight there itself. When we understand that we are real and the demon is unreal, a creation of our own, we start walking on a path of victory. The demons come from our own creativity. In fact they are faceless, shapeless, in reality without a body. They are intangible. We provide them body, give shape and select a face and start fearing them. It is just a thought, faceless, shapeless and rest is all imagination. When imagination comes to kill, the only way is to know the real.

      I firmly believe that but for few exceptions all lesser mortals like me come face to face with these demons at least once in lifetime, the intensity may vary but it is inescapable. Some easily conquer others fight hard and win, the most unfortunate lose and slide into depression. That these demons are faceless is the key to know them. Only then we start looking what is behind the faces. The inner journey to explore the origins begins. As we go deeper they lose all the faces, all the shapes but a thread remains. A thread that takes us in the abyss to find a fortified thought. We have to dig it out. Even if we are able put firm grip on it the demons lose power, making its intense resurgence difficult.         

         I think these demons can never be permanently eliminated because they are created by our imagination using impressions of our past and uncertainty of future. Since it is a shapeless thought residing deep within us nobody can come close to it except us. It is the final frontier that we have to win. Have to win on our own as it is beyond the reach of others. Nobody can win it for you. Fight is easier when we know that the demons are of our own imagination. Since we never stop imagining the game is never over. It is always played on inner field. The demons never stop coming at us. But we can always cripple them by strong dose of reality. A destructive imagination can always be killed by constructive reality.

         

The Creator and the Destroyer

            April 26, 1986 a terrible tragedy unfolded far away in USSR. It was a nuclear disaster at Chernobyl. Huge explosion took place in the nuclear power plant. Still remember the news that was published but not details. Many died, environment suffered unprecedented destruction, the area was closed, human entry prohibited that’s all. Occasionally the news related to Chernobyl flashed more often in articles discussing dangers of nuclear power, how it is a potent natural disaster. Obviously the reference was always a red flag to nuclear power plant. Our energy needs, cost paid in terms of pollution, possible nuclear alternative, dangerous radiations, effect on ecology and what if Chernobyl is repeated, these all remained part of the narrative. Chernobyl never vanished from articles I came across but was referred in the same context until recently when read one article published on The Wire portal. It was written by German Orizaola.

         A wonderful article changes the narrative we are used to and opens a new window to look at Chernobyl. When accident took place the radiation reached the level 400 times radiations released after nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Many human casualties, evacuation of thousands and creation of exclusion zone and ultimately Chernobyl was left alone to convert into a barren land not suitable for habitation not just for humans but for animals and plants as well. It almost began along expected lines. The pine leaves turned red due to radiation, the death came instantly to pine trees. Most animals were forced to embrace death. The extreme radiation played havoc. Deserted by humans Chernobyl became a land left to decay and die slow death in an environment expected to keep deadly radiations for many years. But for some researchers Chernobyl settled to the bottom of memory of most surfacing occasionally as a symbol of human misadventure with nuclear energy.

           33 years after the disaster it is a home for wild life, lush green forest, beautiful landscapes. It is flourishing with biodiversity. Big mammals like brown bear, bison, wolves and amphibians, over 200 species of birds have made it their home. It’s simply amazing. What was expected to be an arid land has become a fountain of life. What is surprising is the absence of harmful impact of radiation on animals and plants. It is confirmed by researchers. There are some changes in colour shades leading researchers to explore how animals and plants have foiled adverse impact of radiation. Research projects have been taken up, some part of it is declared as radiological and environmental biosphere. And yes it has become tourist destination.

             Though it has become a laboratory for scientists to study evolution in extreme conditions for me it is embodiment of triumph of creativity of nature over the forces of destruction unleashed by humans. It is sending a message loud and clear, leave me alone. Homo sapiens go away I can take care of my family. You are a destroyer, I am the creator. It is depicting our true place in the nature’s picture, in fact it is beautiful when we are not in the frame. Our presence means toxic, polluted environment, heaps of garbage. Remember garbage, waste is a human concept. There is no waste in nature, everything from fallen leaves to dead bodies to excreta all contribute to life chain. Waste is our creation. From plastic to pollution we owe this waste. We are leaving nothing, land, water and air all are at the receiving end. Even the tranquility and serene darkness are missed in shrill sounds and bright lights of cities. We are relentless in our efforts at destroying. It is unlikely that we will mend our ways.

              Our growth, comfort and prosperity are at the cost of nature. These are human concepts. Their origin is not in nature, we have invented them. Human greed only aggravates this. We have forgotten how to be at peace with nature. Rather we want to control nature. Semblance of our success in controlling nature vanishes in thin air during earthquakes, floods making it amply clear who is the boss. On numerous occasions nature has sent a clear message that you cannot play trick with it, it will have disastrous consequences. All such attempts to play with nature have resulted in man-made disasters. It still is unlikely that we will start respecting our boss. So needless to say we are inviting trouble which ironically can be called as natural justice.

                 What we have at Chernobyl today is a miracle. It showcases the brilliance of nature in evolving in extreme conditions. We just could not imagine that life will thrive there. It only points to nature’s extraordinary resilience. But unfortunately it comes with a rider, the absence of humans. The life flourished in our absence. For me it is a disturbing reminder of the position we have attained in nature’s design. In plain words we are unwanted, no longer required. Where we are, the natural life is decaying but it is thriving in our absence. Nature is telling leave me alone. We say we want to protect nature? Save environment. Our call is for our survival, if we are brutally honest. Come on we have become redundant in life and survival, but undoubtedly a sole destroyer. Our presence better called interference, indulgence is a destroyer and absence is a life saver. Nature is at its creative best in our absence. It is ridiculous to talk about being savior. Chernobyl is a message that beyond human absence followed by destruction, the life sustains. To sustain life we are not required, our absence is. We are the destroyer, nature is a creator.

And destroyer can never stay relevant forever in life’s design.  

Link of the article

                             

 

https://thewire.in/environment/33-years-after-nuclear-accident-chernobyl-becomes-refuge-for-wildlife

Every story of success is ...

  

          When did you decide to try for civil services? I asked the young, handsome IPS officer by whose side I was seating. I was on an official work and was asked to accompany him to a programme. Travelling by police TATA Sumo in the scorching heat of Chandrapur in April on way to Gadchandur I broke into conversation with this opening question. He started sharing his story. A graduate of electronics engineering he was working in a multinational company with a package of 12 lakhs. One day he discovered that the job was not for him. More than the professional that probably was inner call. He decided to try for civil services. Quit the job and started preparation. Presuming an obvious rejection of the idea of appearing for civil services he didn’t inform parents. When he cleared written examination and was to appear for interview he broke the news to them. That attempt proved to be a learning experience. He became IPS in second attempt. Amazing story indeed, I asked leaving a job in MNC with good package was a big decision, packed with risk. He said that you had to take risk. That was the sacrifice I had to make. Then he came up with an insightful statement, he said, “Every success story is a story of sacrifices.”

       A precise description of success. In the glitter of success we see the faces, we presume the hard work, sound faculty, intellectual prowess but hardly think about the sacrifices. Looking at success as a story of sacrifices is a wonderful as well as insightful way to understand it. Hearing that line 5 to 6 years have passed but it has left an indelible mark on my mind. This has helped me understand success stories better. The hard work is the foundation of any success but often ignored is the story of hard work. A closer examination of hard work reveals a mountain of sacrifices. We can always get the complete chronicle of hard work often leaving us awestruck by the amount of efforts put in but if you want to feel it you have to explore the sacrifices. Once we start looking at story of success as a story of sacrifices and we are able to divide it in small achievable steps it becomes easier for us to explore the story closely and understand it. Whether scoring a century in a cricket match or clearing civil services or any competitive examination we have to break it into small pieces.

         Talk to achievers they will share the secret how they planned study for every day and remained consistent. When the hard work is broken into small steps it looks simple and achievable. When a small goal which is part of the bigger goal is achievable or so we feel, it boosts confidence. When we hear this story of a step a day towards the goal we sense the ease of achieving success. The simplicity of the approach makes us overlook the challenge. The challenge is of taking a step a day, every day without fail over a long period. Consistency is the challenge. It is not difficult to plan a step a day but consistency is the real ordeal and it writes the story of sacrifices. If every small step counts then every small sacrifice counts equally. In fact for every small step a small mundane sacrifice is needed. That small insignificant sacrifice becomes an inseparable part of the bigger picture.  In reality it gradually paints the bigger picture.

          Plan is to wake up early morning at 5.00 am and start study by 5.30 am. Simple step to take. But doing it every day means you who normally wake up at 7.00 am begin a day with a sacrifice of 2 hours sleep. Easy for a day but doing it every day for one year needs uncompromising commitment to one small step. When we don’t want to compromise we have to give up something. Just imagine number of sleep hours one would forgo if the plan is executed with commitment for one year. A closer look at small 2 hours sacrifice reveals another sacrifice; you cannot watch movies or involve in gossip, chat with your friends late into night. Else it becomes difficult to wake up at 5 am early morning. So you have to give up highly tempting entertainment, enticing gossip. It seems undemanding but it is testing. If we start figuring out plan for the whole day it just becomes compilation of number of small sacrifices we have to make every day.

       Over a long period of time in a developing success story then develops a hidden story of sacrifices. The earlier you begin better it is for the size of the step and the demand of sacrifice escalate exponentially if you lose time. The moment you fix your target the timer starts ticking. With every wasted tick the size of the step increases and so also the amount of sacrifice it requires. Those who seek self-deceiving comfort in available time often get a rude awakening desisting them sometimes from taking a serious attempt at the goal. They often surrender to the huge step size and colossal sacrifice demanded by it. Interestingly those who waste time initially after fixing the target expose their weakness of succumbing to temptations and physical comfort. It is a ticking timer the earlier you realize the better it is to write a tale of triumph. Rest assured there always will be conditions beyond your control sucking time reserved by you. So it is never too early to begin but it could be too late anytime.    

        Whether civil services, competitive examinations, acquiring skills or losing weight or any other examination the success story is made up of loyalty to a step a day and veiled sacrifices to take this step.  The loyalty to one step has to defeat the all powerful temptation of amusement and the attachment to physical comfort. The message is simple if you want to write your own success story first you have to script your story of sacrifices. And never forget the timer is ticking…   

        ** Image credit - videoblocks.com

A Poem at a Sweet Mart

          

       I was standing at the counter of a famous sweet mart to settle the bill. The man at the desk was not in a hurry. I was at the counter even before my package could reach. Looking around restlessly I saw a poem on the wall exactly behind the man. It caught my attention primarily because it was in Marathi titled ‘Mazi Ichchha’ meaning my longing, unusual indeed. The owner of the sweet mart who hailed from Rajasthan had put a poem in Marathi. It instantly stimulated my curiosity. I was through first four lines and was stunned by the flow and thought. It was talking about a prayer for not protecting when in danger but making fear unknown when in danger. It was a brilliant poem. It caught my imagination. When I looked at the bottom the name of the poet was written. Engulfed I already was stood there awestruck reading the name ‘Rabindranath Tagore’. Mesmerized I paid the bill and left.

        The spirit of the poem had left deep impression on me. I was wondering how such a wonderful poem found its place in a sweet mart. I was very much happy for a Marathi poem finding its way to a sweet mart own by family from Rajasthan. Days passed and it slipped from memory. Next time when I went to buy sweets it still was there. I ensured that I take a photograph and asked about the poem. He had no idea what the poem was but passed the information that it was given by a doctor. Not surprisingly the man who was handling the cash at the counter was not carrying the fragrance and beauty of literary flower at his back. Probably for him it was a prayer put there for better fortune. He absolutely had no idea what was the prayer for.

     At home I started frantically searching for the poem on the internet with Marathi title, English titles as My Wish, Prayer by Rabindranath Tagore but in vain. After a frustrating search I found the mention of Marathi translation and the poem on a scrapped Orkut blog. There the name of the translator was missing. Even the blogger had acknowledged that he had no idea who translated and what was the original work of the great poet. I was desperate to get the original work but there was no clue. One blogger mentioned that the original poem was initially part of Gitanjali but was later removed. It was in Bengali he had added. It was disappointing. I even sent the Marathi version to a student living in Kolkata if he had any idea fully aware that for him it was going to be a huge challenge understanding Marathi.

      The search reached a dead end but spirit of the poem and beauty stayed within. One fine day I got a collection of Marathi poems which was translation of some of the works of Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore. There I found a poem mentioned as Gitanjali poem 4. A closer look revealed that the essence of the poem matched with the Marathi translation. It was a beautiful poem. My heart filled with great admiration for the translator. Better I say it was interpreted with precision and expressed beautifully in Marathi. I still don’t know who did it. The Gitanjali poem which I accidentally stumbled upon is

That you protect me in danger

This is not my prayer:

Let me not know fear

When in danger.

I do not ask you to comfort me

in the heat of sadness.

In the aching state of mind.

Make me victorious over sadness.

Let not my strength break down

when I find myself without a refuge.

If I suffer any worldly loss,

if I am repeatedly frustrated.

Let me not consider this harm irreparable.

That you come to save me

This is not my prayer;

I ask for strength to overcome.

You need not comfort me

by lightening my load;

I ask for strength to carry my burden.

On days of joy

with humble head

I will remember you.

I will recognize you.

On a dark sad night

full of frustrations

O then may I not doubt you!

                                                Rabindranath Tagore

     

        Simple words but great meaning! It magnificently tells us what to ask when we pray. The first stanza tells that my prayer is not seeking protection from danger rather when in danger fearlessness is what I long for. What an antithesis to our own perception of what we pray for. We pray with a desire that we don’t have to face danger.  We want to get rid of threat. The prospect of a threat instills fear. This disturbs our peace of mind. The great poet has exactly opposite philosophy. He wants courage not fear. He does not want danger to disappear. He wants to take on danger without fear. These lines are the first footprints of the philosophy this poem presents.

         In the succeeding lines poet’s prayer is not for seeking comfort from divine in the heat of sadness but for being victorious over sadness. A subtle difference can be easily overlooked. We never want victory over sadness we don’t want sadness. We don’t want to find ourselves in sadness and if at all we sink in there we want the divine to make sadness disappear. It is not a victory for we don’t want to wage a war, we want to run away under the guise of making sadness vanish. We just don’t want enemy for we want to evade fight. What a fighting spirit! And how beautifully it is concealed in prayer! 

      Without any support in adverse conditions we become feeble. So usually we seek support or just don’t want adverse condition. Gurudev Rabindranath prays for retaining strength. Worldly losses, frustrations inject despair. He prays for a ray of hope. We feel that such losses are irretrievable but the real hope is they are always reversible. Reading between the lines he is not seeking divine intervention in blocking the worldly losses. He wants to live peacefully with a hope that they are reversible, they can be compensated for. He wants strength to carry the burden. No divine help to lighten it. This is all about fighting spirit, about hope, about having deep faith in invoking strength. 

       When conditions are in favour we are ready to acknowledge the divine, we remember almighty crediting the happiness to His grace. But when situation turns against us, we sink in despair we tend to question the divine as how the omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent made me go through all this hardship? In a way we doubt His presence. A natural course for most but the noble laureate longs that he doubt not the supreme power. In the days of joy and peace he remembers Him but in days of turmoil, of depression, of frustrations he still wants to remember, doesn’t want to doubt Him. He doesn’t view divine relative to the situation he is in. This is thought provoking. We want the divine to rescue us or to fulfill our desires. So we pray. The poem goes diametrically opposite to our philosophy, motive behind our prayers. We desire to have a change in outer adverse conditions, the poem expresses desire to challenge them. It invokes inner strength. We long for the outer protective wall, the poem wants to build impregnable wall within.

         The first casualty of adverse situation is peace of mind. It means our inner core is vulnerable. Oblivious of the inner weakness we want somebody to intervene to get rid of unpleasant situation. The poem seeks inner strength to fight attack from outside. Wants to secure peace of mind from within. Threat affects our mind and takes the toll on body. When the armour is built within threat fails to penetrate. The mind remains at peace and so is body. Irrespective of the difficulty calmness prevails. Threat or threat perception the ripples of internal disturbance just don’t generate or instantly degenerate into tranquility.

          The poem has always fascinated me. It has been a source of inspiration. It often reminds me whom to pray and what to pray for. It is a wonderful poem. With not a single difficult word, no complex sentence one can easily get a self-satisfying feeling of grasping what poet wants to say. The reality may be you haven’t reached there. Probably you passed by having just a glimpse. The simplicity and the beauty is so engulfing that the philosophy of the poem could be easily missed. It is so gentle in telling purpose of prayer somebody like me doing exactly opposite doesn’t get hurt. A better way is shown to us without any hurting comment on our way. When poet gently strikes a chord with reader and tells that when he prays this is what he longs for, a question quietly rises inside the reader what does he long for when he prays?  

           To be honest the beauty of the poem I do enjoy but practicing the philosophy has always been a greater challenge for me, more often a failure. Innumerable times I have failed in keeping calm when in difficulty, have not been able to live up to the philosophy of the poem but I still am hopeful that He will give me strength to follow the path lit by the poem. A path of inner peace, of tranquility, leading to the depth of an ocean unruffled by the ripples along the surface.       

        

** For those who understand Marathi here is the translation of poem in Marathi. What a wonderful interpretation. Salute to the master translator whose name is under the dark veil of past.

      माझी इच्छा

विपत्तीमध्ये तू माझे रक्षण कर
ही माझी प्रार्थना नाही
विपत्तीमध्ये मी भयभीत होऊ नये
एवढीच माझी इच्छा
दुःख  तापाने व्यथित झालेल्या माझ्या मनाचे
तू सांत्वन करावे अशी माझी अपेक्षा नाही
दुःखावर जय मिळवता यावा
एवढीच माझी इच्छा
माझ्या मदतीला कोणी आले नाही
तर माझे बळ मोडून पडू नये
एवढीच माझी इच्छा
माझे रक्षण करावे मला करावे
ही माझी प्रार्थना नाही
तरुन जाण्याचे सामर्थ्य माझ्यात असावे
एवढीच माझी इच्छा
माझे ओझे हलके करून तू माझे सांत्वन केले नाहीस
तरी माझी तक्रार नाही
ते वाहायची शक्ती माझ्यात असावी
एवढीच माझी इच्छा
सुखाच्या दिवसांत नतमस्तक होऊन
मी तुझा चेहरा ओळखून काढीन
दुःखाच्या रात्री जेव्हा सारे जग माझी फसवणूक करेल
तेव्हा तुझ्याविषयी माझ्या मनात शंका निर्माण होऊ नये

एवढीच माझी इच्छा  

                                     गुरुदेव रवींद्रनाथ टागोर

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

                                   William Ernest Henley 

 

             Invictus is a story of rugby team of South Africa playing the world cup on its soil. Against the background is the transition of power from whites to blacks. The shadow of apartheid looming large. The atmosphere is full of revenge, suspicion, scorn. But President Nelson Mandela with legendary leadership handles it with courage, determination and statesmanship. He is on a mission of nation building in its difficult times. He is doing it with acceptance, assimilation, reposing faith in blacks as well as whites. The captain of the team, comprised mainly of white players, meets president. President talks about inspiring players to do beyond expectations. A brilliant and inspiring movie. In the movie comes the reference of a poem Invictus. Not being a student of literature means obviously being deprived of study of classics. I never came across this poem till I watched the movie.

           Mandela spent 27 years in imprisonment. In the dark hours of depression when he was on the boundary of losing hope he sought inspiration in this poem. He was in jail fighting for justice. The meaning of Invictus is unconquerable, undefeated. Written by William Henley more than a hundred years ago is still relevant because it challenges fate and talks about becoming the master of it. In the darkness, signifying despair with no sign of light of hope the poet thanks whatever gods may be for his unconquerable soul. He claims that he has not cried under the grip of cruel circumstances nor has he bowed down when hit hard by situation beyond his control. In the shadow of despair, in the years of unrelenting pain he stands with strength unafraid.

          Though he understands, the path to get out of this misery is tough, though he is aware of punishments when circumstances are challenged, he stands firm and declares he is the master of his fate and is the captain of his soul. It is an inspiring poem showing the way when things turn against us. When you are losing on all fronts, possibilities of revival almost diminished, despair engulfs this poem provides a thread of hope to hang on. The poem is not merely an imagination of poet or an intellectual flight but it has come out of withering experience of life. William Henley was fighting illness, his one foot was amputated and other was to follow. He was staring at darkness. The amputation was necessary for his survival. Just imagine the gloom, despair he was in. The poem took birth in this shadow of dejection. He was a young boy struggling to survive, on the verge of disability.

         In the first stanza he pronounces his soul unconquerable and thanks whatever god that may be. In the darkness of depression he clings to his soul which is unaffected by the shadow of sadness. It is a ray of hope. In the next two he exhibits fighting spirit. His refusal to surrender, to cry and his will to face adversity fearlessly. It is truly inspirational. When you confront the miserable condition you are punished by the situation meaning the fight is not friendly it often is bloody. But the final declaration comes in last two lines. I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul. These two lines define the philosophy of poem. Point to the intellectual preparation to face the worst difficulty.

           Fate is an obscure concept. When we have unanswered personal questions like why this has happened to me, we attribute it to fate. The reasons though sometimes known partially they are often beyond the control of us. More often than not they lead to questions without answer. We then take resort to fate. If fate is beyond our control how can we be master of it? The answer is in the unconquered soul. It is an inner self different from body. It is untouched by the circumstances, not affected by the gloom around. When understood it provides us a fortress to survive adversity. It is a spiritual realm.      

            It very well defines the limitations of fate. Fate can affect the body but not inner self. Fate cannot reach there. It remains unconquered. The real strength is not physical it is intellectual, in understanding the limits of fate and strength of inner self. The stronger the inner self better you are in mastering the fate. You are the captain of your soul, the inner self. Indeed, it’s yours. In fact it’s you in true sense. The fate however strong it may be cannot affect inner self. This realization makes one invictus. The battle is within. He is not a winner, more appropriately he cannot be defeated. Being invictus doesn’t mean he always creates favourable conditions, he is the one who renders adverse conditions ineffective. He never surrenders when hit hard by circumstances. He has no complaints about the harsh situation. In the darkest hour he firmly holds on to the ray of hope. Since he is fearless he is devoid of violence. He is compassionate as he understands pain.

        Invictus he is…    
        The master of his fate 
        And the captain of his soul.

         A beacon light of hope and inspiration.  

Smart work or Hard work

        Scrolling down the facebook, checking for the updates I came across a wonderful image. It showed hares running as fast as they could and a tortoise rushing ahead riding on a wooden skateboard. Standing confidently, hands in the pocket, sack on the back and wearing a charming smile, tortoise exhibited winning posture. Hares on the other hand wore a surprise and defeated look, outsmarted by the tortoise. The caption says, ‘Be smart…  no one cares for your efforts, only results’. The catchy image speaks volumes about being smart. I instantly recalled the workshops on group discussion and personal interview. In the PI session we used to throw a question at all the participants, “Hard work or smart work, which one will you prefer?” Instant, vociferous response, in consonance always put the stamp of approval in favour of smart work. No takers for hard work, all for smart work. 

        The answer goes along the expected lines. In fact I ask the question to check if there is anyone for the hard work but usually all go for smart work. If at all there is one for hard work under the bludgeoning majority voice it fails to find courage to mark its presence. My observation is those who prefer smart work have no idea as what the smart work is but carry the conviction that smart work takes you to success faster. It is a proven key to success. In the subconscious mind there lies an element of fear that hard work may even not lead to success. But smart work always does. It is a belief hardened over the years from the true/untrue examples heard from many sources. Smart work is an express way, hard work is a narrow tough road, they think.     

         When I ask them to explain the smart work they struggle to define or provide example. Their notion of smart work originate from the much coveted short cut to success which in fact is unreal. There is no such short cut but truth is that we all covet it. A good example of self deception. When majority asserts in favour of smart work in the workshop I stand for hard work. I give them example of breaking the rock to make small pieces often used for construction. Crushing the rock to small pieces using the sledge hammer is a good example of sheer hard work. The gravel thus produced is a necessary material for construction; a successful but mundane work. When a sculptor hews the magnificent sculpture out of a rock it carries glamour. It is also an example of sheer hard work but has something more than that. That something makes it difficult, challenging to become a sculptor.

           That something is the skills. Add to it imagination and ability to express through the shape carved out of stone you get a masterpiece. For me this is smart work. The results are lasting, beautiful; the success is enlightening, full of glamour and fame. This smart work is extremely difficult to pursue. It is different from the short cut to success which in reality is manipulations. It never leads to enlightening success. It leads to an ephemeral success exposing only to ever growing greed which emerges from missing contentment. Carving the imagination out of a rock and liberating the expression stuck in inner reaches of mind is not simple. It is not a one day affair. It can take days of intellectual toil to create the masterpiece inside and days to take it out. A sheer hard work requiring tremendous skill. The result is a smart work. It is enduring. There never is a guarantee of success. It actually depends upon how we define it. The result of such smart work is always self satisfying.   

          The image plus the caption is impressively catchy but it tends to mislead. It creates an impression, though false, that there is something called smart work a substitute to hard work. A closer observation reveals that the tortoise is riding on a wooden skateboard. A skill extremely difficult for tortoise to acquire. Once done it is poised to challenge the running hares that otherwise can always easily move past tortoise. To match the natural gift of the hare tortoise has to acquire the skills through hard work. It outsmarts hares only after working hard. It also provides an important lesson, before you compete know your strengths and limitations, work hard to master the requisite skills. This is smart work, it is not imaginary, counterproductive short cut. And yes it is harder than hard work but it’s a way to success and peace of mind. 

Rest assured results depend upon efforts.                       

Disciplined Teaching

      I was on the phone talking to one of my students. He was waxing eloquent on the academic and administrative system of the college where he recently appeared for an interview. He was talking about the academic environment, discipline in the college. He told me that the college belongs to a group of institutions. The senior faculties are in coordination with each other in preparation of teaching material called as notes. That new faculty is groomed under the guidance of seniors. This really impressed me for when one enters into the teaching profession there comes the unwanted baggage of nervousness. He then is venturing into a world which is different from the world he lived as student. Learning in the class and studying for the examination significantly differ from studying to teach. Student has to prepare for one examination but for a teacher every student in the class is a question paper and all papers he has to appear at the same time. The challenge always is to write an answer that correctly responds to all papers. Obviously it can never be the best for all. It is always for the general good. And it has to address the weakest to push for studies and encourage the strongest to explore the world beyond the examination.  This perception is beyond the boundary within which students live. It is the world of teachers. So the guidance from the experienced faculty could be of great help to the nascent teacher.   

        The appreciation of the college continued for a while and I was a willing listener. He talked about the professional approach of the management. The academic discipline of the teachers, students, how teachers have to plan teaching meticulously… the information continued to flow. He was fairly impressed by the college. If you are serving in a college which is not professionally managed such a college becomes a dream destination for working. From system in complete disarray you come across a system that is working according to rule book and is managed in corporate style. So not surprisingly you drown into admiration for it. The information went down to classroom teaching. The teachers have to prepare notes, plan teaching and execute accordingly. The teaching plan must carry minute details. The university syllabus also specifies the number of lectures for a unit and so on. These recommendations are implemented to the core. I really appreciated the approach realizing with honesty that I was never able to follow the teaching plan given by university or prepared by me for the sake of visiting committee. Not really a good approach though, I admit.

      At the peak of the best practices followed by the college, he said, the teacher has to prepare teaching plan clearly noting what he is going to teach in every class. But that was not enough he has to give details splitting down to minutes.  What he is going to say, how he is going to explain and so on. The words struck the rebel chord in me which was buried under the structure of planned teaching. My instant reaction was it is ridiculous. I, for instance cannot go to class with line to line explanation planed in advance. I prefer a plan of topics to be covered but rely on the spontaneity of verbal flow. Planning the teaching minute by minute is beyond my comprehension. The admiration for the college was then replaced by the dominant rebellion. The conventional teaching plans I never was able to follow. I often paid the price by engaging extra lectures.

    If this is considered as fault then I am guilty of it but I am confident that my students are testimony to my sincere efforts that not a student is left without properly understanding the topic. I tried my best to explain in such way that every student understood the concept. And whenever possible I made an attempt to venture beyond the examination. Where completing the syllabus is the only teaching programme there I am a misfit, I feel. To explain the topic I relied upon an already contemplated line of explanation and more often on extempore. The plan I prepared as part of mandatory preparation for a committee visit often stayed on paper. I am at fault no doubt but have the satisfaction of trying to ensure that every student understands. Not that I was successful every time but was at peace with myself.  

        I strongly believe that overzealous attempt to implement the teaching plan to microscopic details kills the spontaneity. And if it is lost, the lecture will become monotonous, devoid of life. Then there is hardly any scope for encouraging and responding to queries from students and pushing them to go beyond the syllabus. This is not to advocate an absence of framework for teaching but to throw light on the limitations of planned approach. It is necessary but it cannot be a substitute to creativity and imagination of a teacher. Discipline is good to set the order but excessive intrusion of it in our life is an invitation to dissipation of creativity.

      If a teacher plans and executes with minute to minute details where is the fun in teaching and learning. Fun originates through creativity, imagination. The loss on this account will not reflect in the score sheet of students but they certainly will be deprived of experiencing beauty in teaching. It is the loss far intense than non execution of teaching plan. The necessity of teaching plan ends when teacher is alert enough not to deviate to irrelevant topics but there must be enough space for him to use imagination. And if we really think that imagination is of no use and it is syllabus and plan for its completion only matters then do we need teachers? A robot is good enough to replace teachers, untiring, supremely efficient, and exceptional in time management and yes never demands salary.  If robots teach imagine the consequences.

      The disciplined mind, conditioned thought don’t produce Steve Jobs. Creativity and imagination blossom in mind unbound. Needless to say the talk ended wiping out the germinating thought of the most favoured destination for me to work.      

     

Food for thought...

                 It was a Sunday with much needed leisure. Right from the morning I was into newspapers, not just of that day but some old ones. To be very specific all those were with obituaries for Late Govindrao Talwalkar, ex-editor of Maharashtra Times. The man of great erudition and courage. A modern thinker who had set the benchmarks for editors. From editorials to articles written in his memory I kept on reading. All finished the loss sunk into me. An hour later I was on the dining table. Almost everybody had noticed that I didn’t move close to three hours while reading newspapers. I broke into conversation and said to my elder daughter I was concerned about her for I felt she belonged to starved generation. She was surprised by the comment and burst into laughter. The word starved was the reason for it as there was no rationale to put her in that category. I realized and clarified. It is not about food but food for thought, you are not getting nutritious food for thought but more often you relish junk food even garbage at times. What you read and think about, comes from social media whose quality and authenticity is never verified. You accept it, make opinion, and share it with others on social media. Then I took her thirty-thirty five years back.

                    My father was in teaching profession as well as journalism. At home we had subscribed at least two newspapers from Nagpur and one from Mumbai. The one from Mumbai came a day late. Though younger I fought with my uncles to get first reading. There was unwritten rule which all followed that nobody would mess with pages, all pages would stay in the bunch. In the beginning I was fascinated by the news related to crime, accidents. This reading gave me enough information to participate in discussions with friends who also would come with their own share of information. Discussions lead to opinions. I don’t even remember when I gradually shifted to editorial page. Here luck smiled on me. Maharashtra Times though would reach us a day late was a treat to read. The editor was the man with giant personality Shri Govindrao Talwalkar. I that age I didn’t realize his greatness but his editorials were a reading delight. Sunday supplements were eagerly awaited.

                     I was into newspapers right from childhood and that was the primary source of information. Moreover three to four newspapers were available so the difference in approach to events national as well as international was easily discernable. The political ideology I did not miss. The lessons on interpretation of news were unknowingly taught to me by these newspapers. That there is news and there are views, this idea I could conceive. It was simple what was close to my way was good. But most importantly the opinion, different views and formation of your own opinion developed. It was not deliberate but it happened. Fortunately my friends circle was also equipped with arsenal of differing views so we often broke into fight. Hot discussions and strong egos would ultimately divert the discussion to inconclusive arid domain but this helped me understand when to withdraw from the discussion.

                       It is not a unique process. Almost everybody has his own way of thinking and forming opinion. Where I find myself lucky was that I read Maharashtra Times lead by Late Talwalkar. The significance I realized later in life. By the time I finished engineering and joined teaching profession he almost retired and later shifted to US. But he kept on writing and I kept on relishing whenever opportunity knocked. In my formative years I read his editorials, half understood but was fascinated by grandeur of the language and the razor sharp intellectual approach. His erudition was beyond my comprehension but it cultivated the way I thought. I was intellectually well nourished thanks to this great man. Reading newspapers of different ideological bent taught me existence and acceptance of different views. The different view in the beginning met with my rejection but as my thought process matured I learned the art of acceptance without agreement. When I ran debaters club in my dept where I met with students loaded with sharp intellect this background of mine helped me. This one activity always gave me a window to understand how those young minds thought. I came across some really brilliant debaters, sharp, witty and dynamic, their association I still cherish. It was intellectually enriching experience.   

                    My opinion about starvation of mind was against this backdrop. Young minds don’t usually respond they react. Given the age and associated dynamism what nourishes their minds is extremely important. The acceptance of opinion even without agreement is the key to intellectual development. The junk food is bad for our physical health and junk food for thought is detrimental to intellectual growth. Young minds must have intellectual aggression, dynamic thinking but the resources are important. We have unlimited information source through internet but choice is left with user. The social media is replete with venomous material vitiating young minds. The intellectually starved mind is emotionally vulnerable. It is an easy but potent instrument that can be emotionally charged and used to serve vested interests.

                       If young minds react sharply it is their characteristic but intellectual starvation can put emotions in dominance over rational thinking closing the doors for intellectual correction. Intellectual correction doesn’t mean all thinking in same direction rather it is opposite of it. There may be some having diverse opinions but others will deal them with a sense of acceptance. If the acceptance of difference is lost and intellectual starvation is exploited then any ideology that is detrimental to society can easily dominate mind. If junk food destroys healthy growth of our body then junk food for thought hampers healthy opinion making.

                     The abstract contents on facebook walls cannot be nourishment for mind. There are people who are using there fb walls for projecting healthy, sound opinions emerging out of research but there are many propagandists who use easy access to social media to promote hatred. There are many whatssapp groups with posts full of vitriolic content against particular community, cast, and religion. Once under the influence we stop checking authenticity, applicability in contemporary situation, conceive it as reality and share. Worst we add our own prejudices. But if we read from books, ponder over diverse opinions and then form opinion not only that it will be intellectually rewarding but will be an emotionally enriching experience for then we will have satisfaction of connecting with more people.

                      Facebook or whatsapp may be for fun but random status changes and sharing of poisonous content cannot be construed as source for intellectual food. Share the content that is good for society else simply ignore it, block the propagation. Allow its peaceful burial by neglect. But just don’t react to anything on social media; respond in the interest of society. Neglect is the best weapon to deal with propaganda. Those who emotionally react never lead and those who calmly, thoughtfully respond lead the flock.

 A smarter generation has to make a choice. And I have full faith in their aptitude.