Why a Size 7 Will Never Work

Standards are a funny thing aren’t they? Ironically mutable, not quite doing justice to the term. Relativity, as it turns out, spares no one. And standards too, fall prey to the one-size-doesn’t-fit-all phenomenon; differing across people, time, circumstance.

Have you noticed that very often we hold others to standards different from those we have for ourselves? And curiously, there’s no consistency in that even. For example, when someone else succeeds at something, we attribute it to an inherent talent. When it’s us who’s done something to be proud of, very often, we ascribe it to painstaking effort and a generous dose of good fortune. When it’s another who holds a morally debatable position that we don’t agree with, we sit on our pedestal nodding disapprovingly, if not somewhat condescendingly. And yet, when it’s us down there, we convince ourselves it’s circumstance that calls for such an action, ‘means to an end’ taken to be reason enough.

Despite the near rant above, I don’t mean to say we’re all hypocrites who can’t stand up for anything. I’m only trying to make sense of that fork in the road we encounter every so often. On the one hand, taking a firm stand on something, staying true to a certain code you define for yourself; and on the other, adapting and realizing that response to change is the only way to grow, to survive (viruses figured that one out a long time ago). As the saying warns: What you resist persists.

What I struggle to fully understand here is how far do you bend? How tightly do you grip onto, what you thought were your guiding principles? When do those guidelines expire? Do they expire? It certainly seems like they do. Take into consideration a choice you made this month and chances are 2 years ago you wouldn’t so much have looked its way, or worse, you’d have looked it straight in the eyes with narrowed, suspicious glare that could burn a hole through it. The point I’m trying to raise is that we’re constantly changing our opinion of what’s right and what isn’t. A little like a GPS which after a missed turn starts to recalculate, we reevaluate our opinions as we go along, making adjustments based on the experiences we’ve had.

Of course keeping up with change is required, you already knew that, but whatever happened to staying true to your beliefs, to holding your ground in the face of adversity, to not taking the easy way out? The more I think about it, the more I come to believe that just as, and I’ll quote from The Fray for its poetic flavor, “sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same”, the path of least resistance isn’t always the wrong one either. Sometimes what comes easy comes easy for just that reason, because it’s right for that time, for that situation. Sometimes it’s best not to read too much into an easier alternative, not to doubt it just because it found you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the tougher, long winding road, personally I question (an understatement actually, grill, interrogate, beat into submission would be more like it) any good thing that dares come my way, but I’m learning that too good to be true isn’t always true and easy doesn’t always have to be hard.

With that settled, my next thought was: how does one identify these sometimes, when it’s better to risk a change in an outlook than to cling to a principle with dear life. And here’re the two things I’ve figured out for me: having a little more faith in intuition and recognizing that each one is different. You’ve got to learn to let your instinct guide you without a paralyzing fear of mistakes. But more importantly you have to recognize that each situation, each individual, each choice is different and you can’t use the one measure to gauge all.

And then sometimes, you just have to do what you think might not be right, if only to know better.

PS

The 7 in the title is with regard to Indian women. The one shoe size you can never find in a sale. Fortunately, I’m not a 7. Unfortunately, being above average doesn’t count when it comes to footwear, larger sizes are near impossible to come by.

Would you like that in a White or Red Sauce?

Do you ever feel like you know or feel about something with absolute certainty? Are you ever completely and utterly sure of a decision? Are you ever sure enough to take a decision? Do you experience that elusive absolute- unquestionable- nothing’s-gonna-change-my-mind kind of surety? The only thing I know with that kind of certitude is that I hardly ever do.

Perhaps doubting a choice as not being perfect isn’t such a bad thing. Perhaps that is what makes life interesting. (Or perhaps this’s just me justifying a lack of conviction.) That you never really know till you know. I remember reading somewhere that happiness is as much a quotient of routine as it is of change and unpredictability. As much as we like knowing that some things will happen without a doubt, I think we also relish the idea of having to bravely (or so we tell ourselves after we’ve found the light switch) walk into the dark.

But I think we’ve also found a convenient way of dealing with it and since I can’t outdo the guy, I shall quote Tony Robbins: “You like the surprises you want. The ones you don’t you call problems.”. The man has a point doesn’t he? As much comfort as we find in familiarity, we dread always knowing where we’re headed. And while most of us like to be prepared for any eventuality, I think it’s inherent in us to crave, every so often, an element of unpredictability, of risk. Given how seldom we can know how things will turn out, maybe this instinct is simply nature’s way of equipping us to deal with the unknown.

But why is it that we rarely feel we’ve made an optimal choice? As though what we’ve picked isn’t perfect, isn’t what will make us most happy? This’s where the human mind, with its tremendous capacity for imagination, demonstrates once again why it’s boss. And that in recent times we’re often drowning in a sea of options, only adds fuel to the fire that the brain insists on setting ablaze each time we’re faced with a choice. The more alternatives we have to pick from, the easier it is for the mind to imagine one that could’ve been better than what’s been selected. No matter which you close the deal on, the brain will visualize one that is better; with all that’s great in your selection, intact and all that isn’t, fixed. (And you can’t blame the mind, it’s only natural to aim for the superlatives, after all even evolution advocates survival of the fittest.)

As Barry Schwartz points out, with all this choice, “…we end up doing better but feeling worse.” He attributes it to Elevated Expectations. With an excess of available options, it becomes very easy for the mind to construct that ideal blend, which like any form of perfection isn’t quite attainable. As a result, we’re never really content (more so since we make that choice), fantasizing of something that can’t be.

So what can one do to make it out alive? There’s no escaping decisions or options, if anything the future will only bring more (one might notice similarity to a certain biological trait in Rabbits) and contentment we need to get a grip on, now more than ever. My method (I wish I could label it with a As Never Before Seen) would be to: Prioritize, Let Go, Stop What If-ing. List the must-haves – be judicious; let go of the rest – you can never have it all, more importantly you never need it all; don’t second guess – you’d feel as much doubt about the pair of jeans you didn’t pick, had you picked them.

My Fix

Does Music ever feel like a drug? Are there times in those turbulent monochrome moments (the reds and the grays of moods), that you crave that resounding bass, the rhythmic beats, the angry Rap, the staccato piano, that insane lead, the easy Pop, the feel good Retro, the psychedelic Trance, the romantic Acoustic, the crescendo of a Symphony, the expletive ridden lyrics, the head-banging Metal, the OST’s that take you back to the movie, the aggressive Thrash, the club-by Electronic or just the loudness of any of those?

Does it get your heart pumping, blood rushing, head dizzy, legs aching to pound the ground, leave you out of breath even when you’re just mouthing the lyrics, head moving to the beat with teeth clenched, fists made, in an attempt to contain the energy, eyes shut to keep distractions to a minimum while you immerse yourself in the sound; not knowing what to do with the sudden surge of adrenalin that feels as forceful and yet precarious, as a rising wave in the open sea, just before it’s about to break?

Does it take you to another place, cut you off from everything, drown out all the noise, on the outside and within, the incessant chatter in your own mind; and suddenly you only feel… the sound? Or does it seal out everything external, leaving you with just the empty space in your head to untangle the web of thoughts that feels like stitches slipping off a knitting needle? Does it feel like an invisible protective shield, keeping safe your inner sanctum, giving you just a moment to tidy up the space?

Does it leave you feeling a little cleansed, a little more human, a little more coherent, if only to yourself? Does the release feel invigorating, like you’re ready to take on the world again? Does it unleash in you that form of indignance that is most constructive, motivating you, propelling you, to channel that defiance, to take your best shot?

Is it escape? Is it a deep breath? Is it meditation? Is it white noise? Is it normal? Is it addiction? Is it self-preservation? Is it coping? Is it ritual? Is it remedy? Is it unvalued? Is it unsung? Is it misunderstood? Is it a rescue tube? Is it all that and more?

Being Grown Up - Attempt #1

I recently had to write for a newsletter, under the Letter from the Lead section. Won't get into details of the title because that's all there to it. And also, it's for an initiative on the side, so nothing worth bragging about (I so do wish there was though).
So I was now faced the challenge of not sounding too big for my boots, yet saying something at least remotely lead-like. Working against a tight deadline (because in a very lead-like manner I had procrastinated till the end), this is what I could come up with.
For anyone who has the time, patience and the interest, do let me know if I sound full of it.
It being any of the following:
• Crap
• Greatness (a girl can hope can't she)
• Potential (this would be the safest bet for anyone I know personally, because either I know where you live or I'll be able to find out :D)
• Just plain it


The importance of two very simple yet powerful words struck me recently: Ask and Tell.
I find they’re words we take for granted a lot of the time. And while I believe this holds good in life away from the office too, I’d like to focus a little more on their impact at work.

To start with my first magic word, Ask, an anonymous quote about sums up what I want to say: The only stupid questions are the ones not asked.
We all want to and we try really hard, but it just isn’t practical that we know everything under the Win 7 hood, leave alone the sun!
And I learn each day that there is no shame in asking the questions no matter how trivial they might seem.
In fact it’s an established fact, each time the person that everyone is rolling their eyes at, asks the oh-so-obvious question, close to a fourth of the audience is going “Oh so that’s how it is!”.
So if you aren’t going to do it for yourself, ask for the other 25% of the guys in the room. :)

That brings me to the second revelation that I’d had, to Tell.
If you think about it, the one thing that keeps us sane is knowledge. Man has a universal fear of the unknown. We’re programmed to find comfort in being in the know.
And the work place isn’t any different. The one thing that truly fuels panic is the lack of information.
If we were to list down the things we spend time on each day, I’m sure for most of us status updates would rank pretty high. And why not, how else would we navigate through a system as complex as the IT.
Wouldn’t it be so much better if you just kept people informed of what you’re doing, did or will do as you go along?
I do agree that one can overdo it with the updates (and you might even get your very own spam folder in others’ inboxes!), but you’ll find that timely updates not only establish your credibility and reliability but also help organize your own to-do items.

It took me a while to discover the importance of these two simple, yet often neglected acts. I hope this saves at least a few of you that trouble. :)

For Want of a Better Phrase

As I sit wearing my bright red T-shirt (chosen especially to mark the day, so what if it’s standard Marathon issue, which incidentally I didn’t even run that time), I think, what better day to debate the existence of Love at first sight, then on the designated day of Love itself.

First off, I have absolutely nothing against Valentine’s Day. I don’t get why so many people go about on an Anti-Valentine’s Day crusade. The way I see it, it’s all about practicing live and let live. If you don’t want to be at the giving or receiving end of any expression of affection, don’t. But you have no right interfering with those that want to.
Sure, many argue, what’s the point of reserving one day to display your Love for someone, you should be doing it the year round. I ask: what’s the point of celebrating a birth-day in that case, you do live all year.
The objective is purely ceremonial, a tradition, a way to celebrate your Love for another. Absolutely, you should be at it majority of the 365 days; but this one day, you go that extra step and make it a wee bit more apparent. A tad glamorous too if you may.

Now that that’s cleared up, moving on to the mysterious phenomenon of falling head over heels at first glimpse. To attempt to clinically examine that, I think it would best to start with what exactly Love is.
(Please note, in the course of this post any reference to Love is to the interpersonal, romantic variety. Not the universal flavor, nor the impersonal kind. Especially since I can very well understand and relate to instant Love felt towards inanimate objects (think, the numerous times that superb pair of shoes, that exquisite watch, that gorgeous gadget, stole your heart).)

For me (since I believe the definition varies tremendously from individual to individual and I far from fully comprehend it myself), Love for a person is a combination of a multitude of emotions: Respect, Admiration, Need, Want, Concern, Affection and of course a certain amount of Physical Attraction. Along with a little something that I can’t define, which I think you just feel.(If you’re rolling your eyes and going “Oh boy, this sure is objective”, I should warn you, you might want to skip the rest!)
So while I do believe in that certain magical something, I still can’t quite fathom how you can know you Love somebody the first time you see them. I do mean first here. Not when you’ve already heard about them and then you see them. I mean when you have no idea who they are, what they’re like, what they do, where they’re from. The very first time you laid eyes on them. That’s when I’m talking about.
How can that very first glimpse tell you that you respect, admire, need, want them? You don’t know them yet. And that’s where I get stumped when people talk about falling in Love at first look. Infatuation, I can understand, and I wonder if that’s what is mistaken as Love.

Here’s how I think it plays out (the assumption being Guy/Girl refers to same physical being throughout the 10 step process):
1. Guy/girl sees guy/girl
2. Is physically attracted
3. Works up nerve to talk to object of fancy aka guy/girl that caught eye
4. Learns more about guy/girl
5. Finds guy/girl has something in common, or interesting to talk to/be with
6. Continues getting to know guy/girl, along the way participating in combined activities of choice
7. Enjoys spending time and doing things with guy/girl with no motive other than to do so
8. Finds feeling, mentioned in above step, reciprocated in almost full due
9. Claims it was Love at first look
10. The End (added just to make it an even number)

Now here’s my contention. What if at any point following step 4, things don’t work out as smoothly as hypothesized by above 10 step method? You wouldn’t call it Love at first sight then right?
But technically, at first sight means that step 1 should have been all it took. But that can’t really be because you don’t know the person well enough (heck you don’t know them at all) to Love them. At least not in the sense of all the feelings Love encompasses.
Either it should be called "Infatuation at First Sight" (which is sort of redundant anyway) or "Love, the start of which was triggered at First Sight" (extremely cumbersome and not in the least whimsical I agree).
So I think I’ve just uncovered the mystery I sought out to solve, it’s called Love at First Sight, because nothing else sounds as romantic, not to mention is as easy on the tongue!

PS
There’re hoards of (clichéd and otherwise) definitions for Love out there, one of my favourites is by a kid, aged 7:
“When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you're scared they won't Love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only do they still Love you, they Love you even more.”

Disclaimer
These views are as of the time of this writing. I reserve the right to change them per circumstance. Seeing (quite literally in this case)/feeling is after all reason to believe! (Please no comments on the physics of how this is an illusion!) Though rest assured, I shall attempt a thorough justification should the need arise.

The Auto Rickshaw Diaries

So, while in a rickshaw crawling at the rate of 5kmph thanks to a nasty traffic jam, sharing the space meant for four with five others, packed in tighter than a tin of sardines, holding down a precariously balanced laptop with palm bases to keep it from doing a Superman impression, listening to Dead Poetic (the only saving grace in this image), is far from your ideal spot to type out reflections on life, that’s exactly what this Friday’s trip back from work saw me doing. I did get a couple of raised eyebrows and amused second glances but even the off chance of being featured on the evening news (It’s not all about you, Hoobastank, running through my head right about now) wasn’t going to keep me from pecking away furiously at the keys.

In case you’re wondering what drove me to this compulsive state or what kind of a nut I would have to be to risk life and limb (exaggerating for dramatic effect, but it is plausible you know, there have been many a recent events of involving overturning rickshaws, which I’m told is because of poor design and overstuffing that results in a high positioned COG (center of gravity). Sounded convincing enough to be true.) to type out this seemingly unremarkable post, allow me to elaborate.

Sitting still for 20min (the time I have to spend in these death traps on an average day when the roads aren’t log jammed) I can just about do, but almost an hour, you might as well bring out the catalogue of torture methods and ask me how I’d want to go. I have to have something to do, absolutely hate sitting still (in case you’re going, Oh me too, hi Ma :D. Though it’s really Dad who’d make us both look like Tibetan monks). Something, anything to keep mind and body occupied, and most of the time it’s pretty frivolous endeavours (to support which I believe I am providing more than sufficient evidence).

Other than the little physical challenge it presented, I must say I rather enjoyed the experience. In fact that was another one of the reasons I whipped out the laptop and attacked the keyboard, I really wanted to see what it felt like and I can safely say it makes you feel all important, kinda a journalist trying to beat the deadline on a record-breaking, career-making scoop.

I must also add a note about my co-passengers who were extremely accommodating, sitting politely while my stuff and I bounced about all over, the extremely tiny (which has me considering a career in those acts wherein guys dressed in fancy outfits fit themselves in unbelievably small spaces), place. But more importantly, what I appreciated most was how my fellow travellers were not peering into the screen, as, much to my dismay and despite claims of being mature adults, I’ve noticed a lot of people attempt to do. It’s one thing if it’s the occasional glance while your sms’ing for example, but I find people very shamelessly keep looking at that tiny glowing LCD display as though peering through a peephole desperate for a glimpse into your life. Our otherwise much appreciated “healthy curiosity”, is slowly mutating into a very unhealthy, and not to mention offensive, attitude of voyeurism (reality TV, micro-blogging all contributing in some little way).

As I sat there, sandwiched between people I didn’t know and probably wouldn’t meet again (or perhaps only on another of these excursions) I began thinking of why we make the acquaintances we do. They say you attract the people that come into your life. But why, you ask? I believe it is to learn from the people you choose to build relationships with. I don’t necessarily mean ground-breaking, life-altering learning, but if you look back at the people that have been part of your life even for the briefest of times, and you photoshop them out, you notice that things and as a result you, would not be as you are today. Now I know that holds good for any event, the Butterfly Effect really, but I really believe it is most apparent with relationships (ephemeral or as eternal as mortality would allow). Because after all, man is a social animal, and human connect is more than just necessary for existence, it’s a catalyst for evolution.

So until I find myself in a pensive mood in another three-wheeled rickety mode of transportation then, happy riding and writing to all fellow experimental kooks!

Hell hath no fury...

Have you ever woken up to a morning feeling an inexplicable, unwarranted sense of anger? I don’t mean the beat-the-living-daylights-out-of-someone sort of rage (or for those more philanthropic, favouring a more masochistic demonstration of fury, the pull-your-hair-out-by-the-roots variety).
To put in a less poetic form, I don’t mean the kind of anger where you can identify who should be at the receiving end or even why someone should be waiting to hear from you. I mean the anger (I think Indignation is word I’m looking for) that is more defensive, fuelled by a general feeling of being wronged, the one that inspires the me-against-the-world sentiment.
(Just to avoid any confusion regarding the identification of this mysterious emotion, I don’t mean the grumpiness of waking up on the wrong side of the bed either.)

Setting aside the why of such an unpleasant emotion on a bright sunny day, what I want to highlight is the effect of such seemingly misplaced ire. If you are able to keep that feeling in check, meaning to say, not find an easy prey, you’ll notice that you go about your day with increased fervour if you may, finding that you do more and better than you would on a regular day.

If you look at it, it really isn’t a rare phenomenon. It isn’t even limited to just anger. All hostile emotions, frustration, hurt, pain, inspire greater motivation, impel us to do better if only to get back at that feeling. Look around, most great works of art, music or literature come to life when the creator is at his lowest best.
Take Lance Armstrong for example, who really brings to life the point I’m trying to make when he says: ‘Once someone asked me what pleasure I got out of riding my bike for so long. "Pleasure?” I asked. "I don't understand the question. I didn't do it for pleasure. I did it for pain".’

So what exactly is happening here? A negative emotion seems to be yielding positive results, casting doubts on its infamous capabilities. Is something amiss here?
Well, not quite. If you sit down and dissect the occurrence, you see that it’s pretty simple actually, just a variation of survival of the fittest, the strongest. It’s nothing but a case of one emotion overwhelming all the rest. Anger simply bulldozes through the myriad of other feelings you may be having at the time: fear, pain, anxiety, doubt.
You’re probably wondering right about now, why there aren’t any ‘good’ emotions in that list above. Well, if you look closely you’ll see all the negative emotions transform to a level of (drumroll)... Anger.
And that, is the where this universal emotion draws all it’s power from. And by extension, where you can draw power from. Assuming of course you choose to, or you’ll find the emotion drawing its power from you.

Not convinced? Alright, think of the last time you were hurt, didn’t you project some degree of anger at the person or object you identified as being responsible? When you were in pain, didn’t you angrily pick yourself up by the bootstraps just to get back at the pain, show it what you're made of? Didn’t you feel frustrated at the uncertainty you felt in some situation?
So you see, all roads lead to our notorious star of the show.

As for the power of anger, even conventional wisdom has it documented, albeit with a little more emphasis on the impact on the fairer sex (that you really can’t argue with):
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
(Especially for the benefit of visitors that don’t agree with the thoughts in this post. :P Just kidding!)