A Perfect Love

Much to the annoyance of friends and family, I am naturally nocturnal. In order to integrate into society,  I have made concerted efforts over the past few months to wake up early enough to greet the new day head on. Every now and then, though, I find my duvet far too soft, my sleeping posture far too perfect for this to be feasible. This was one of those magnificent days:

I headed down for what I conveniently call 'brunch'; though with the clock nearing 2 PM, it is what most refer to as lunch. On such occasions, living at home is wonderful. I come down to a sumptuous, healthy home cooked lunch by Nana with my Ammumma (grandmother) and Appuppa (grandfather) for company. It is days and moments like these I missed most during my time in the UK.

This particular day, however, my Ammumma was in a truly aggressive mood - she was having what seemed like a marathon argument with my Appuppa. Left, right and centre she was leaving no syllable unexpressed in explaining her reasons for current failings in Syria. People take guard, the house shakes and I prepare my stomach for the salad I will have to consume (far easier than not, given the circumstances) when my Ammumma is in one of these moods.

All through the 'blasting', my Appuppa listened patiently and calmly. He filled his plate with brown rice and daal whilst carefully measuring a reply; a key lesson I've learnt from my grandfather is to always weigh a response adequately before you unleash it (especially against such a formidable foe).

As a tense silence filled the dining room, I nervously filled my plate with as much salad as I could find and racked my brain to find a suitable conversation topic lest my inability to engage in conversation is my Ammumma's next target. In such tense moments, I've personally (painfully) learnt that making yourself the smallest target in the room is clearly game theory optimal (if confronted with flight or fight, there is no doubt in my mind what I would choose). My heart did go out to my grandfather, but right now - YOYO, Appuppa (You're on your own).

A few seconds of silence and then my Ammumma reached over and stroked my Appuppa's hand. Startled, he asked, "What, Rayma?" Quietly, my Ammumma responded with the kind of love I only know her to exude, "Nothing, Gopi. I just wanted to stroke your hand."

Just Walk Away

She was an annoyed teen; his constant smile had more milk teeth than not. Accompanied by a harried mother and a drowsy father, they were your typical Dubai airport transit family.

They are standing at the edge of two long, automated walkways, one in either direction. He challenges her to a duel: he’ll race her to the end and will do it on the disadvantaged walkway.

It’s evident to all she doesn’t want to do it. Her annoying brother, does he ever sleep? Why can’t he pester someone else? Why is /she/ his affectionately appointed best friend? Ugh, at the least, she can walk her way to victory. But she’ll have to walk back. Well, he’ll have to walk back too; that gave her some comfort. Bragging rights could be fun.

3. 2. 1. And they are off. Well, he is off; she casually strolls into the lead. He goes as fast as he can but a third into the race and he’s definitely losing. She allows herself a rare smirk; looking at how hard her brother is trying, her victory may be sweet after all.

From the sidelines, I was clearly rooting for the little boy with his heart on his sleeve. Run, Forest, Run! But there’s no way he can win, can he? Even if he has another gear, it’d be awfully close. What would I do? Personally, I’m far too lazy to challenge people to races. But if I did? Would a psych out work best? A distraction? There seemed to be no edge to gain, no way to win.

And then the boy just stopped. With palms and chin on the moving, ‘disadvantaged’ railing, he watched his departing sister with the best poker face I’ve ever seen. No smile, no laugh, no resignation, nothing; he just watched. Unsurprisingly, she was not as good at the poker face; it was a miracle the smoke detectors weren’t blaring. Unwittingly, she had forced herself into one of the most frustrating to and fro ‘strolls’ of her life.

The entire duel hinged on his unwavering thirst to engage and beat his sister; and like a skilled waiter pulls away the tablecloth, he had stripped this (his!) activity of his eagerness. He had flat out given up and quietly floated away towards his awaiting mother. She, on the other hand, had the kind of look on her face that was so priceless I’ll carry with me to my grave.

My ICSE/ISC upbringing requires every story to have a moral, a message; heavens forbid we share a story simply for the story. So I suppose the little boy’s message is that we aren’t always playing the game we think we are and that the best way to win some games is to not play at all (OR, pretend to and then sucker punch the older sibling with a big, jam bun!).

Corporal Punishment

From Wikipedia, so my sources are obviously legit:

"Nimzowitsch was annoyed by his opponents' smoking. A popular, but probably apocryphal, story is that once when an opponent laid an unlit cigar on the table, he complained to the tournament arbiters, "He is threatening to smoke, and as an old player you must know that the threat is stronger than the execution.""

I've been taken in by chess recently and when I came across this anecdote, the first thought that crossed my mind was the corporal punishment meted out in Indian schools. The term 'corporal punishment' adds a lot of underserving structure and civility to a teaching practice that is rooted in brutal dominance and chaos (but that's just me). But all children in India are exposed to this, some obviously much worse than others. It's still around because it works; it's incredible what you could get people to do for you if you put the fear of the lord in them.

At the heart of it, though, the efficacy of corporal punishment comes from the threat of further execution of it, and not from the literal execution of tempering the steel. What that leaves children (and eventually, adults) with is the Pavlovian urge to submit when facing the threat of physical punishment. Personally, I'm not a fan of training the future of my race to readily submit. As highlighted, that's a personal opinion. I think there are definitely some thought threads that are ready to accept a submission-prone proletariat; but I think it is highly unbecoming of the world's largest democracy, not to say counter productive.

(cue: drama) What is learnt may never be unlearnt.

It might sound dramatic, but I do believe 'un-training' years of a particular habit is extremely difficult.

I think it's interesting to see altercations between people in India - especially road rage incidents - the way one aggressor will violently raise his hand above his head in preparation to strike, take one step forward and menacingly bite his lower lip - the curious thing being that no blow is ever struck (well, sometimes at least). In a way, the aggressor is just trying to imitate what his teachers (or anybody in authority) did to him when they needed him to submit when he was younger.

(aside) I suppose sometimes we are merely reflections of past deeds. Or that there exists a learning morphic field around us. http://www.sheldrake.org/homepage.html


(aside: I wonder what happens to creativity in tasks that have potential corporal punishment payoffs)

There are many reasons why corporal punishment is still quite prevalent in India; none of them good. I don't think it's enough to just make it 'illegal' without addressing the issue at its core. Since schools are extremely well versed with (dis)incentives, we should be doing more to incentivise schools to stomp down on it.

Reality:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-11617206

"Out of the 13 countries which were the subjects of the research, India was ranked third in terms of the estimated economic cost of corporal punishment."

"The study, Prevention Pays, found discrimination by caste and gender was the major cause of violence against children in India." Discrimination? Woah, whole new terrifying dimension. Though they do seem to be talking about 'violence against children' as a whole.

"Teachers tended to justify their actions by saying they were overburdened with too many pupils." I'm not even...

"The study found that even many students believed corporal punishment was sometimes necessary.

Plan reckons anything between $1.4bn and $7.4bn was being lost every year in India in social benefits because of school violence.

The cost is based on estimates of how the larger economy is affected by the impact of corporal punishment on pupils' attendance and academic performance."

Bahadur

I just walked out of Heathrow and was all set to get home in a nice, complimentary chauffeur driven car, a luxury possible thanks to the wonder of miles. I was directed to a man with a board that read 'Ravi-Chandar,' who helped me put my suitcase into the boot. I was on my way home.

I usually tend to strike up a casual conversation with the driver. I start with asking about what it's like to drive in the UK and take it from there. 

"So, do you like driving in the UK?"

"No, not really. Some people tend to drive because they enjoy it; it allows them to think. To me, it's just a way to make money. It's all financial."

He told me his health was very bad. He had a different job that paid great but he needed perfect health to continue working and he was shut down four years ago. He maxed out his cards and savings a year ago and spent the last of it on the car to make some money. He's waiting for his health to get better so that maybe he can return to his earlier job.

This man had shared something so personal with me and I was truly humbled. I took the opportunity to formally introduce myself and what followed next was one of the most inspiring conversations I've ever had.

He was born in Iran and his parents were very poor. He told me that his shoes always had holes in them and his feet were always freezing. But he only knew they were freezing many years later; cold was all he knew and his feet were how how he thought feet should be. That's all he knew and how can life be anything more than what we know?

When the Iran - Iraq broke out, he was called into the army. He served for 4 years on the front line. 

At the end of that, he moved to Tokyo and did whatever work he could find. He jumped multiple jobs, always moving to a higher pay grade. He said the best part, though, was how much he learnt and how it opened his mind. After working very hard for a few years, he returned to Iran. He had earned so much money that he had become a millionaire. He bought his parents a house and his brother two flats. He started a building business in Iran and became a multi-millionarie. 

He lived a good life for a long time but then some political issues arose that forced him to have to leave Iran very quickly. He had to leave everything behind; all his assets were locked up and he could take nothing. The most important thing he had to leave behind was his family.

He arrived in the UK with 20 pounds to his name. He was extremely hungry and had to choose between eating a McDonald's meal now and starving for a while later, or some how rationing out this money. He decided that he was going to get nowhere with 20 pounds and that it was better to eat now and figure out a plan on a full stomach.

Turns out, he did make a plan. He started working tons of manual labour jobs and was making 13 pounds a day. He didn't need much, though and this was more than enough for the time being. He then started switching jobs again, making more with each job. After years of hard work again, he had a really high paying job. He started a company doing what he knew best - building. The money was extremely good and again, he was a millionaire. 

Then, his health took a turn for the worse. He had some condition that caused him a great deal of pain; he spent his entire day in pain. He had to give up his company until he got better. After a few years of recovering, he had spent all his savings (family was back with him) and maxed out his credit. He bought a car and decided to take make some money off it until he got fully better. 

And so, you see, he didn't like driving because driving was just a way to get by until he can get his company back.

Ours was a conversation and didn't follow in the way I laid it out above. We talked about different parts of his life and more importantly, different parts of his views on life. I (now flippantly) mentioned early in the conversation that life seems to be like a roller coaster and he constantly worked that into how his life moved. He ended by saying that again, his roller coaster is at the bottom and it's time for him to work hard and go up again. 

We had an intense conversation and he shared much more. He did, however, mention that his sons get all the best shoes with no questions asked; he never compromises on shoes. I realised that I was fortunate enough to be in a car with greatness.