The early morning cast

The life of the deeps is  unique. Satpada is located at the opening of the Chilika into the Bay of Bengal, expanding through Southern Odisha into Berhampore, Balugaon, and Rambha. Some 200-300  Orcella Brevirostris (biological name of the Irawaddy dolphin) live in this zone.

People live, breathe, eat, and drink the Chilika — for them it is  not only a livelihood,but also their life, and their culture. The day begins with a homage to Kalijayee, the human-goddess figure, the deity that fishermen worship in Chilika (possibly will narrate the story of Kalijayee in some future post).

A fishing cottage in Rajhans island

Eventually, the fishing day begins and continues  late into the evening. There are thousands of small islands inside the Bay of Bengal.The jetty gets busy by 6.30 AM, when people venture into the waters with the blaring of the first horn of the boat siren. People travel from the jetty across Satpada to islands like Parikud every morning. Clearly, these islands are not vegetarian hubs. Clamps, Oyesters, Fishes, wait to greet you with the smell of the sea.

A fresh Crabby Catch

A fresh catch

If you are interested in fish-food, then you may like to try those small motel huts in some of the islands where a nolia (fisherman) might welcome you to the delicacy of a fresh catch of fishes or jhinga.

The Breakfast Hut

The makeshift arrangement in the island

Fishing is like subsistence farming in these islands and the entire livelihood, food-habits, etc  is based on fishing.

A local delicacy served on palm leaf

However, if you observe the ghettos, you will clearly sense the complete breakdown of the conservation mechanism. The entire Chilika and parts of the mohona  have been bartered by huge privatized fishing ghettos. Grand motorized fishing boats make noisy entry and exit into the sea, aggressively getting the lions-share of the fishing business. The noise, the sharpness, and the violence of these motorboats destroy the ecosystem of this beautiful natural habitat of the dolphins and birds. There is a difference between fishing in the conventional ways and fishing in the technologically advanced motor boat system — one is for subsistence, while the other for commercialization and semiconscious destruction of nature.

The Fishing Gheris_Human Property

Fish Traps

On the first morning of my journey into the deeps, I could not view the dolphins. There was disappointment and doubt that whether these species actually exist or perhaps may have been sighted once or twice to be used as only a brand name to attarct tourists. The boatman Jeetendra promised me to make sure that I will able to see at least once the dolphins during my stay. The Irrawaddy species of dolphins is more threatened by human intervention than by any other threat. Motorboats ferry thousands of tourists every morning into the Chilika. The noise of the engines and the smell of fuel destroy the safe movement of the dolphins across the water-scape.  In fact, more than 25 motorboats enter the waterbody and pursue the dolphins into the sea while trying to secure a better view for the tourists. In the process, the dolphins fall prey to  continuous human curiosity and activity. They also have to find safe passage within the large expanse of the fishing gheris that act as dangerous traps.

Owning the Ocean_Gheris

Trace of the first dolphin

From the second day on, we started to venture out earlier into the water, 5.30 AM for the rest four mornings, so that we manage to observe the dolphins without getting into the race of motorboats. Jeetendra explained to me that the Irrawaddy dolphins live in small groups of seven or eight members, in clearings within the water-scape. They move within certain specified zones of fresh-water and forage for small fishes. The motorboats and the tourist carriers target these zones both for fishing purposes as well as for tourism.

A closer snapshot_Irrawaddy dolphins

From the distance

Observing the dolphins makes you feel deeply connected to the organic reality of nature. My third morning in the deeps was even more rewarding. We spotted a group of six large dolphins in the mohona.  I was elated. I said to Jeetendra, “see these seem to be so happy and so much involved in their own business”. He smiled and replied with a sadness, “just wait and watch! They will not be happy  for long, the motorboats coming in a short-while will make them sad. They will not be able to breathe even”. He was absolutely right. In a while there was a flurry of activities — noise of the engines, shout of the tourists, plastic bottles and gutkha packs on the water — the dolphins kept struggling to remain in a distance — but people kept following them.

Before they fade away

The unsafe waters

If you read the WWF’s (Panda.org) description of the Irrawaddy dolphins, it does not even list Satpada  in the list of the natural habitat of these dolphins. The government of Odisha keeps talking of conservation of these dolphins and to make the area a no-noise and safe zone — but the actual picture is very different. You observe the gross inequality of resources and of eco-conservation. On the one hand, large fishing corporations are fearlessly invading the sea and posing threat to the marine ecology of the zone with their huge fishing boats, sharp nets, and hi-tech equipments. On the other hand, are the poor fishermen with small dinghy with small fishing nets, hardly able to get a meager catch of 100 fishes in  a day. When laws and persecution come into existence, these poor fishermen fall into the trap.  The question is: when we are talking of conservation of marine ecology, where do these subsistence fishermen figure? These people actually live in harmony with the waters being born in these waters, they do not possess individual fishing gheris and they do not have motorboats to disturb the marine ecology. The dolphins in fact fearlessly move around their fishing boats and are worshiped by these poor fishermen as messengers of the gods of the ocean.

Waiting for the catch

The efforts in manual rowing

My visit to Satpada was an eye-opener.  The narration in Iris is still insufficient. It was just an unplanned backpacking trip to the deeps in search of a species of dolphins that Amitav Ghosh has really made popular through his novel. However, when I went there, I realized that there is a need to come back to Satpada with a more determined motive and a longer duration in hand, of course with a DSLR for better photographic clarity.

Before I wind-up , one short anecdote. Satpada is also one of the largest fresh-water pearls culture zone. The ‘Hyderabadi pearls’ that you buy from the market at Rs.200-300 for a single piece, can be found for Rs. 10 at Satpada. This is the place where they are actually cultured. If you want, the fishermen can break the clamp and give you a glimpse of the pearl. The journey into Satpada remains incomplete — five days were just too less. There is more to be written and more to be felt in these silent corners of the earth that remain unknown to the multitude of conservation experts as well as common human beings.

On that note I conclude today’s edition of Iris….A very good evening and take care!

Pearl within the clamp

A Pearl@Rs. 10

Related articles

• In Quest of the Deeps: The Irrawaddy DolphinsThrough My Lenses (heteroglot.wordpress.com)

Day Break at Satpada

A very Happy New Year to all my readers.  1st January on a Sunday is a boon for bloggers who wish to write weekend articles. As I browse through  the memories of last year, on 6th January we had decided to get into aggressive blogging — each weekend was the target set. I must acknowledge an unknown reader, he calls himself Panapatti, as an inspiring force. We do not know who he is and neither do we wish to know — yet he really changed the story of Iris with his questions. Iris was on an all time low then, and no one read the blog because of extreme irregularities — however this person kept reading through every archived article and commenting.

Last Jan when we began, Iris was a shelter for Anne, the place where she found her emotional life when betrayed by her own quest for life — it was anger and revenge that led her to the gullies of Iris with vehemence.  However, as we moved together, week after week and as time unfolded, Iris became not the shelter but a learning process, teaching that it is love not anger that wins through what seem like tough moments.

On that note, I welcome you all to join this quest for love through the gullies of Iris. Love is not restricted to a human dimension — by love I mean every little thing that has been overlooked as ‘commonsense’ or has been trampled by high ideals, gross ego, and higher motives of human beings like you and me. Let me take you across a journey of five day breaks — I used to get up at 5.30 AM and go into the deep sea in search of that ‘beyond’ human dimension. Believe me there is nothing more enigmatic than nature when you start these trail blazing searches.

Nature in its Essence

Today’s article is based on the animals that are symbolic of love — no not the Doves, but the Dolphins, a special category of dolphins — the Irrawaddy Dolphins or the Gangetic dolphins.

A Glimpse of the Gangetic Dolphins from the boat

This December when I went home, I was determined to search for the Gangetic Dolphins residing in the Bay of Bengal. I was born and brought up in Odisha and for all these years in spite of living close to the heartland of some of the richest flora and fauna of the world, lived in thorough ignorance.  My interest in these dolphins was initiated by Amitav Ghosh’s novel The Hungry Tide .

‘In Calcutta?’ Kanai said incredulously. ‘You’re telling me that there were dolphins in Calcutta?’

‘Oh, Yes, said Piya. ‘Not just dolphins. Whales too.’

‘Whales?’ Kanai Laughed. ‘Now you are pulling my leg’.

‘Not at all’, said Piya. ‘Calcutta was once a big place for cetacean zoology.’ (Amitav Ghosh, HT, 227)

Following Ghosh’s trail of research has always been an interesting and rewarding experience. The lead protagonist of the novel Piyali Roy comes searching into Sunderbans for the Irrawaddy species of the dolphins. These dolphins are special as they are specific to the Indian subcontinent. I was suspicious that there might be more to Gangetic dolphins other than Sunderbans — the result –  located Satpada on the eastern shores of Bay of Bengal in Odisha-Bengal borders. Satpada is 175Kms from Bhubaneswar and 75kms from Puri. In Odisha people know the place as a tourist destination, where you simply go to ‘watch’ dolphins, have picnics, and come back home by evening. However, if you really have to see the dolphins in their natural habitat then you have to stay overnight. Of course, anthropologists and marine biologists are working intensively on research projects across the place, yet there is gross lack of awareness among the public about the significance of these dolphins. There are nearly 200 dolphins in the mohana and it is amazing to see them in their natural habitat — untrained, raw, full of life and creative force!

First glimpse

Satpada is a very small fishing village, significant only for being the place where the sea meets Chilika –  a Mohana of the largest natural salt water lagoon and the Ocean.  The Bay of Bengal has a vibrant aquatic culture that is shared across Bangladesh, West Bengal, and Odisha. Irrawaddy dolphins are the culminating point of that aquatic culture which understands no borders and nor are restricted to boundaries of places and narrow regional divides.

If you are driving from Bhubaneswar, the Satpada turning comes just before you enter Puri town. The roads are slightly lonely and in the winters they tend to get dark. On your right will be vast expanse of salt water and on your left there will be the small fishing villages.   The place is a very small fishing locality and the only available accommodation is in the State Government owned guesthouse called Yatrinivas located in the heart of the village. By the way, it should be noted that there are no ATMs in Satpada — the nearest ATM center is at Brahmagiri, 20 Kms from Satpada.

There is small bus-stop right across the Yatrinivas gates. For backpackers the stay is affordable — Rs. 500 for a double bed room. I had booked my rooms beforehand because traveling alone for single people in Odisha also means a lot of caution and safety. The bungalows are colonial style cottages, designed for a complete breakaway from city and urbane lifestyle.

The Retreat

The Retreat

The stay in Satpada is so refreshing that you forget the cares of the world, the moment you enter the rooms that face the Chilika. My stay coincided with the full-moon nights and the full lunar eclipse in Odisha. Perhaps nature was being extraordinarily bounteous  and was fulfilling every little wish that I had to explore in its deeps, by opening-up new moments and sights. I was nervous that whether would be able to sight the dolphins in the first place — that was my first and only aim. The Manager of Yatri Nivas had arranged an amazing travel guide-cum-boatman Jeetendra to take me into the deep sea. I kept asking him a lot of details on the Gangetic dolphins, their food habits, their lives, and their pattern of behaviour. He kept answering every question patiently and said that he will ensure that I get to see the dolphins. The only precondition was we had to start early — by 5.30 AM.

The dolphins are usually comfortably visible just at the moment of the sunrise. That is also the time when the mohona is at its quietest and  the motorboats have not began blaring their horns. I agreed to take-up the challenge of going out into the waters that early in the morning of a December month. It is mist, clouds, moisture, and bitter cold if you decide to dare the winters at Satpada.

The terrace of Yatrinivas At 5 AM

Through the mist -- the mohona of the Chilika and the Sea

My experience after the trip has been that for the first time in my life I regretted not having a DSLR camera to capture these moments. In the next part of this article I will be describing the journey into the deeps and the dolphins, their lives, their fears, the sham of conservation and ecotourism, and the beauty of the oceans.

Till then, we wait for dawn….Goodnight!

The rays of gold on water

(to be contd. in part 2)

Many of you who have celebrated Christmas during school days will remember the calmness, the silence, and the beauty of evenings by the bonfire. Stories added to the charm of these winter evenings.

Since it is the Christmas week, I thought of keeping-up the tradition of the oral narratives that have been the heart of cultures for centuries. Today’s story comes from the mountains. The story was narrated to me  by an Army Officer who has retired from his services in the Infantry Battalion of the Indian Army . The story is part of his personal experience and personal diaries.

The year is 1981 and the place is Mana Pass (also known as Mana La). Mana Pass is just beyond Badrinath town.It is roughly 18,400 ft above the sea level in the state of Uttarakhand. It connects India and Tibet through the Himalayan mountain range of Nandadevi.  The Saraswati river has its source in Mana Pass, and as the connecting link between India and Tibet, the pass is a sensitive army camp. The roads through this pass are extremely narrow, prone to landslides. If one lost even a slight balance  on the mountains, they will land-up in the gorges of Saraswati river thousands of meters down the slopes. The pass has been notorious for deaths, ambushes, and accidents.

This officer was sent to Mana Pass as in-charge of a sensitive army post across the Indo-Tibet border.

A young infantry officer, 27 years at  the time, Maj. R.N. was known to be a stubborn, but responsible person. He had got married recently and was given quarters at the army base area of Mana town. It was R.N.’s habit to travel across the Mana Pass everyday to inspect the camps of that area and come back to the town once in every two-three days to make sure he gets time to spend with his wife.

One October evening it got particularly late for him to return to base camp. The camp inspection took longer than usual and it was beyond the usual hours of descending through the mountains to the town. However, R.N. was determined to walk back to the town, because it was a clear moonlit night and the visibility was very high on the mountain pass.  The Jawans who were with him tried to dissuade him from traveling through the pass, they requested him to spend that night at the camp since it was already late. He refused. As per protocol, they could not say anything more to stop him from leaving the camp.

It was a full moon night and the valley shone like a pearl surrounded by the black oyster of the Himalayan nights. The moon light on the rocky mountains and on the snow covered peaks creates the feel of a huge crystal blazing in the darkness. The riverbeds blaze like steel in the moonlight.

R.N. began his descent downhill with a high-spirit. Since it was later than 7.oo PM, he was sure he would not meet any villagers or shepherds on his way. His life in the Indian Army had taught him to be vehemently independent and a loner by disposition. Moreover, his habit of reading English novels and watching Second World War movies had kind of made him an idealist and a romantic.

He started walking humming some Mohammad Rafi song, confident that if he kept his regular pace, then he would be at Mana town within an hour and half.

After leaving the camp and crossing the first kilometer through the pass, he stopped for a moment to take a breath and light a cigarette.  Then again he began his descent. About half a kilometer later, he heard someone’s footsteps following behind. Very confident that local villagers are afraid of the Army uniform and are terrified to approach an Army officer, he decided to turn back and find his fellow traveler, so that he can strike a conversation and get company.

When the Major turned back, he couldn’t find a soul in the valley. In the clear moonlight it was tough for someone to hide in the rocks of the mountains, so he was even more intrigued. R.N. was sure that if it was someone from the other side of the border, he will either attack him or take him as a captive soon. However, since it was peace time, the chances were less for such an event.  He started walking the mountains once again, but now with his hands on the loaded revolver in his uniform pocket. The moment he started walking, the sound of the footsteps resumed too. He stopped and looked back again, there was not a soul. The Mana Pass is so narrow that it is tough for two people to walk without being cited by one another. This happened several times, the moment he stopped, the footsteps following him stopped too.

After a while…a voice started speaking to him. He told him loudly in Hindi, “Kya dekh raha hai Kudd Jaa” (What are you waiting for jump down)! The officer turned back to see who it was calling out to him — there was no one behind. Again the voice called out and continuously spoke to him in Hindi “I told you to jump down, just jump down”.  This time the officer retorted back with the choicest slang and asked firmly “who is it who wants me to jump down”. He kept walking with an increased pace, faster than it was before. The voice kept telling him “Kudd Jaa” (jump down). The voice was testing his patience as well as starting to make him nervous. However, he knew clearly that if he lost patience even once or did something out of impulse or anger, he would fall down the mountains into the river. R.N. decided to keep silent and not speak back whatever may come. Therefore, he just kept a brisk pace and kept ignoring the voice that followed him.

There is one juncture at Mana Pass where the mountains are connected across each other. The point is extremely steep and narrow, full of dangers. One wrong step can throw you down into the core of the earth, into the river bed. The moon shone even brighter, and the voice started growing stronger as the Maj. approached closer to this narrow connecting link of the pass.

He was getting more nervous every moment. The voice told him once again “What is this? Jump soon” .R.N. could see the lights of Badrinath now. He suddenly realized that the voice was only motivating him to kill himself, it really didn’t have the power to manually push him down the mountains. He thought for a moment that a high-point in this drama will come when he needs to cross the narrow bridge between the two mountains. He stood at the opening of the bridge for a moment and gathered all the strength that he could muster. The voice was still nagging him, at times laughing, at other times whistling and motivating him to jump. The officer decided to keep his cool and not get disturbed.

He looked across the bridge and felt as if the warmth of Badrinath town was inviting him to cross the bridge. R.N. knew that his wife was waiting for him in the town, possibly she was worried about his safety. He took the first step on the bridge and the voice behind hissed loudly, “now is your time (mauka aagaya!). Jump down!” The Maj. took a deep breath and decided to avoid the voice, not look behind even once until he crosses the bridge.  He started to walk on the bridge with a quick, steady pace. The voice kept calling. When he was right at the middle of the bridge, the voice loudly shouted “Maan jaa! kudd bola na!” (Listen to me and jump).

Finally, he could walk across the bridge and the moment he reached the other end, R.N. turned back to see once again for the last time, who this person was. There was no one on the other end of the mountain, but the voice loudly laughed out, “bach gaya” (survived)! A moment later everything went lull and all that he could hear was the gurgle of Sarasvati river, the deafness of the rocks, and see the glow of the full moon on the snake-like valley.

Being in a safer situation, fear overcame his patience now. He ran towards the town with full strength.

When the C.O.  (Commanding Officer) and other officers of his regiment heard this story the next day during camp inspection, they were perturbed. They told him about the deadliness of the pass, and how many officers and Jawans had succumbed before him to the call of death that rings through the pass in the evenings. The Jawans indicated that was the reason they had stopped him from traveling at late hours from the camp….

You might name the voice as a self-doubt that drives you to kill yourself, you may name it as ghost or spirit, you may call it a nervous projection of the mind, or a psychological breakdown, I have no definite answers….

If you observe the current Google Map of 2011 (30 years later) to calculate the distance between Badrinath town and Mana Pass, Google Map shows two poles ‘A’ and ‘B’, one at Badri and the other at Mana,  with a statement that: “We could not calculate directions between Mana Pass and Badrinath, Uttarakhand.” Surprising na? However, it’s the Defense forces that exist in these unreachable coves of the Himalayas.

Imagine, that  people walk or cover that distance to protect the borders. ‘Enemies’ across the borders are not the only adventures that they encounter, there is much more to life than lines drawn on the face of earth and people visible to human eye ….

A very goodnight! Take good care of yourselves.

During this semester I had a heady, happening encounter with the freshies (1st Years). As I observed their activities closely through my silent veneer, every little activity of theirs took me back to my own ‘fresh-woman’ year at IIT .

Let me recount a story from the many episodes of my life during those days when I was struggling to search for myself.  The story is a part of a memory of my Second Semester as a hostelite in H-11 (known as ‘Athena’ today).  I was going through the rigours of coursework and was trying my hand at multi-tasking for the first time.  The amount of pressure and frustration was brilliantly overpowering my capacity to handle them. My hostel room was the only haven for me, designed and built-in a way that whoever visited me wanted to stay back in 151 .

One night after returning late from the lab, finishing my submission for a course assignment, I fell asleep — exhausted, and undisturbed.  My mornings have always began late — very late as per IST. Around 8.30 AM that particular morning, I heard a knock at my door, did not bother to open and see who was calling. Thought one of my friends must have knocked for breakfast, so shouted in sleep, “yaar tum log jao, main baad main kha loongi kuchh KRESIT pe…sone do yaar” ! (You all go ahead, I will eat something later at KRESIT.) The knock persisted — but still I did not bother to open my door.

After about half an hour, got a call on my cellphone. With half-opened eyes checked my cell to see that the call was from a landline phone. Picked it up immediately thinking that possibly my guide was calling me.

The voice was that of a male, somewhat unfamiliar to me because I was not used to too many friends on campus. He was also a little clumsy and unsure, but said, “hi! Anne? Did I disturb you? Remember me? I am ______. We are doing the course on creativity together” . I thought oh my! Class notes!! No way! Then he said, “I knocked this morning at your door. I had come with A___ (my hostel mate). Wanted to meet you urgently, I am calling from Hostel-8 booth, could you please open your door?”  Now, I was really afraid. Didn’t know what to say to him. Mind started constructing doubts and questions like ‘why??’ ‘what is his work with me? ‘why me?’….. Still could not say a ‘no’ because his voice was so pleading, almost as if he was holding something heavy that was weighing him down. Not used to any guy visiting me during those early years at the hostel… was extremely uncomfortable. I sounded brave, ‘yeah, sure, why not come over….Sorry I thought that was Tina…was trying to shoooo her off’  ….

He was in front of my door in the next five minutes. I opened the door with the first knock trying to look as presentable was possible — landing up looking horrible. Was right  about my gut feeling about something weighing him down. He was not alone, had a hostel mate of mine with him.  I was surprised to see a large bowl with water and two gold-fishes happily swimming  oblivious of the world around them .  My course-mate was grinning  sheepishly, looking with pleading eyes. He really looked lost and in need of help.

They just walked inside my room with the glass bowl in hand and kept it on my study chair. I  could not understand what was happening around! This was my first interaction with this person.

Even before I could ask anything he said, “See I need a favour from you. Your hostelmate is getting married to my wing-mate. These goldfishes were meant to be a wedding gift for them as they shift from hostel to home. However, they are going away from here on honeymoon for a month. So, it is difficult for them to take care of these fishes. Please, please handle them for a month, I am really requesting you to do it because I don’t know anyone in this hostel. will teach you how to take care of them — just for a month.”

I was flabbergasted!  I knew I was strange, a counselor for friends, a happy-go-lucky girl, not giving much thought to life and people, but was never thinking of myself in the role of a ‘caretaker’ of other people’s wedding gifts !  Apprehensively, I asked this person “but why don’t you keep the gold fishes in your hostel room?”   He replied, “You see! It might happen that when I come back from class the boys might have roasted the fishes and eaten them up with rice during lunch. See it’s just for a month, they are really well-behaved fishes” .

My hostel-mate (I came to know from our conversation that she was the one who had got married recently, and the fish-bowl was her wedding gift), also looked with pleading eyes. Finally I relented. They quickly handed me a huge packet of fish-food and gave me a thorough briefing of handling the gold-fishes, changing water once in a while, feeding them only four-five nibbles of fish food, and not exposing them to too many place changes. Very studiously I heard through the tutorial, bid them a ‘bye’, said a ‘happy honeymoon’ to a perfect stranger who had just handed me over her responsibility without even knowing me.

Within half-an-hour I was left alone with my new uninvited guests. Closed the door of my room, looked at the gold-fishes, they looked back at me, immediately turned about, wagged the famous golden tail, as if teasing me — and ‘moved on’! I was surprised — how dare they stay in my room and ignore me! I really didn’t know what to do with them — for no reason felt that an unnecessary burden has been thrust upon me during the peak-semester when I should be studying and writing assignments.

Until, nightfall! That was my first night with the fish bowl and the two gold-fishes. I was sitting and writing something on my computer, absent-mindedly looked around and saw the two fishes. In the darkness of my room and in the lamp-light, I saw them glitter and shine! They were just the most beautiful things that I had come across in my life! Left my work, went near the fish-bowl and kept staring at the two fishes.

They were playing around, hitting the glass bowl with their tails, watching the bubbles from their breath was itself a delight! Then I just playfully placed my fingers on the surface of the bowl. Lo!! They seemed to love it, animated, funny, fast movements through the bowl!! I was giggling, and it seemed they enjoyed the feel of my giggle!

Then on, we had become friends! I would finish my work in the department and run back to the hostel to meet my new friends. Did not let anyone enter my room during those days except my closest friend, who was as naive as I was! We played with the fishes for hours, talked to them, fed them fish food, and then fell-asleep watching them play. I kept observing these fishes to see if they sleep at night — but they always seemed to be shimmering and shining and happy with their mouth constantly doing ‘pak-pak-pak-pak’ . There seemed to be a deep connection that we shared — a language which only we understood. For instance, if I came with a bad mood the fishes would look quieter for a while and then circle round-round fast — until I laughed. The bond was getting stronger and deeper and it was only I who could perceive it or understand it.

When you are happy, time seems to fly so fast that you cannot even count the moments at hand. The month was coming to an end fast and my life with my new friends was getting deeper. The time left at hand was very less.

About four days were left for the newly married couple to come back and claim their gift. I got a call one evening from this friend thanking me profusely for taking care of his friend’s wedding gift. I smiled, but was sad within that it was time to part with my friends.  Next morning when I woke-up and went straight (as had become my habit) to the fish bowl to play with my friends saw that one of the fishes was floating with its back-up on the surface of the water.  Tapped the bowl thinking that it was asleep. I gave a low shriek when I discovered that the fish was dead. It seemed as if something snapped inside me, a feeling of losing a child perhaps. I really cannot define the feeling.

I frantically called up the person who had given me the fishes and told him all that had happened. Was in fact almost crying that I could not take care of them as well as he had thought I will. He calmed me down saying “cool yaar! It wasn’t your fault! Fishes are delicate things! It’s OK they do Die sometime.”  He went again to Crawford market (South Bombay, 1 Hour by local train from the campus), bought a single gold-fish, came back, and gave it to me.  I took care not to get attached to the fishes this time. Still it was so fulfilling to have them around.

The day finally came when I had to hand-over the fish bowl to the people who actually owned it!  I was really sad handing over my friends to these people. The place had become empty and I was on my own again. After giving them back the bowl, my best friend teased me “beganni  shaadi mein Abdullah diwana! “

A few weeks later, one day I was going out somewhere in the evening. As I climbed down the stairs (my room was on the 2nd floor), in the store area below the stairs I found lying the empty fish-bowl. Ran to the room of this girl who was the owner of the bowl. Knocked at her door, and breathlessly asked her, “hey what happened to the fishes? I am sorry just saw the empty bowl at the store area”. Nonchalantly she replied, “Oh the fishes! See we could not take care of them in the beginning of a new life, shifting, and all you know. So, we took the fishes to the Academic building area. There is a nice fish pond there with a lot of gold-fishes, left them inside the pond. That’s where they belong to now.” 

I kept visiting the ‘Mainbuilding’ (that’s what we called the area) fish pond with the hope of catching a glimpse of my fishes. Have never been able to recognize them though — except a feeling that perhaps one of them would know me well. Even today after so many years, as I pass-by the fish pond in front of the Main building, I do peep once to catch a glimpse of my lost friends.

Gyan: (a) Never take care of other people’s wedding gift as if they were your own. (b) Life is also like a goldfish,  take care of it — handle it with care !

So that was one little story from many episodes of my campus life. Will be perhaps off ‘Iris’ for sometime now! Do take care of yourselves!Ciao!

I could not even find the time to draft a complete article for Iris this week. But a commitment is a commitment: aur jab main kuchh commit karti hoon toh khud ki bhi nahin sunti . On a serious note, came across an old hand-written scribble of my version of ‘life’, written once upon a time. May not actually agree to the  lines today. I am too prosaic these days to accept the challenge of ‘thinking’ poetry. Moreover, am not sure if I have the same innocence that my poetry had once kind of promised in its fragrant closures.

However, whatever…. Here is my version of life for you…written once upon a time in the Garden of Eden

Life! You are a riddle –

An unsolved mystery or a puzzle.

To some,

You are like bubbles of the sea froth,

That glitter, shine, only to burst.

To others,

You are a journey-sometimes joyous and otherwise flat.

But to me, Life, thou are an art.

You are a fresco of strange lines,

For a painter who has got to paint too fine.

You are a jumble of words,

For an author who interprets you too hard.

You are the stage for an actor,

Who performs judging every factor.

But to a poet,

You are a sea of echoes and emotions.

At times you are like a lyric,

Meant for the strings of the lyre.

Sometimes you are a gesture of love,

Meant to be felt and shared.

And at times you are like the little droplets of rain,

That  children try to grab in vain.

Life, you are like the upturned leaves,

Of a book of new verses.

You are the crossroad of morals and impulses,

And a riot of ticks and crosses.

But am I not an emotional fool?

For I judge life, without living it to its full.

So let me live it first,

And then in the end shall I prove

That, Life! Thou are an art.

Let me not get into abstract philosophy. Since, am feeling somewhat musical today –  thought of getting a music countdown discussion for you.

While we were at school and before the age of computer games, graphics, and computer-based assignments began, there was a great love for music albums, countdown shows, and Top Tens on Television.  A famous countdown show named “Philips Top Ten”  was aired on Friday evenings at 9.00 pm on Zee Tv.  We were given permission to watch this particular show after completing rolls of the extra notes and home-works. Sometimes celebrities and famous stars were invited to present their list of Top 10 songs and that would be the gala episode. By the time the countdown ended we would be sleepy.  I had imagined that one day I’ll present my own Top-10 songs of all time in Philips Top-10 if I become a celebrity or star . In fact, made a list of songs. Thought should share the list today and also spell out reasons I like those songs. Bollywood is so melodious and musical and we breathe so much of music that it is tough to create a countdown actually.

Am just sharing the countdown of my favourite old timers, and not including the new songs here. The range is from the black and white era only. This article is a tribute to the era when the charms of just two colours encapsulated the canvas of Indian cinema.

TEN: From the movie Teesri Kasam (1966): Ae Duniya Banane Wale Kya Tere Man Mein Samayee, tune Kaheko Duniya Banayee??  ….Kahe banaye tune mati ke putle, dharti yeh pyari pyari, mukhde yeh ujle, kahe baneye tune duniya ka maela…gupchup tamashe dekhe wah teri khudayee…sapne jaga ke tune kahe ko de di judayee (Teesri Kasam). (Rough transl: Oh Maker of this world! What struck you that you decided to make such a complex world where there are no human but only statues made of clay? Why did you make the lovely earth, and lovely faces? Why did you make dreams and give those dreams in eyes only to lead us to separation…why do you watch the game of the world silently? ) The song beautifully scored by Shankar Jaikishen and written by Shailendra reflects the simplicity and innocence of a rural setup. The voice of Mukesh is interspersed with dialogues by Raj Kapoor to create an eternal feeling of awe and beauty.  Hiraman  (Raj Kapoor), a poor cart driver narrates the legend of the beautiful and innocent Mahua who was sold off by her step-mother to a Saudagar (merchant), to Hirabai (Waheeda Rehman) the local nautch girl. As the story unfolds, we  come to know that Mahua’s story ironically is the story of Hirabai herself. I have always liked the song because it seems to project all those questions to the maker that we ourselves ask in our innocence.

NINE: Movie Kohra (1964): Yeh Nayan Dare Dare, yeh jaam bhare bhare, zara peene do…kal ki kisko khabar, ek raat hoke nidar mujhe jeene do…. Pyar mein jeevan ki khushi, deti hai khushi kayee gham bhi, main maan bhi loon kabhi haar…tu manena (Rough transl: These deep dark eyes full of fear… let me drink from your eyes…Who knows what lies hidden for tomorrow?) One of my all time favourite singers is Hemant Kumar. His voice reflects a soft baritone, a complete calmness and harmony with rhythm, and rhyme. A very unconventional tone. This particular song from Kohra shows a deep  existential dilemma, a love that is bound to a moment, he keeps saying who knows what will happen tomorrow? Based on the novel Rebecca, the song  itself gives a lilting, haunting effect. I find it one of the most sensuous songs of Hindi Cinema with Waheeda Rehman and Biswajit playing the role of a gorgeous newly wedded couple.

Clipping of the song

EIGHT: Movie Sujata (1959): Jalte Hain Jiske Liye Teri Ankhon ke Deeye Dhoond Laya Hoon Wohi Geet Main Tere Liye…Dard Banke Jo Mere Dil Raha Dhal Na Saka…Jadoo Banke Teri Ankhon Mein Ruka Jal Na Saka…Aaj laya hoon wohi geet main tere liye…. (Rough Transl: That for which the deeyas of your eyes get lit up, I have searched out and brought such songs for you) . You should watch the song for the beauty of the bygone era and the charm of the land-line phone. Expressions were the greatest factors of cinema of that age and Sunil Dutt sitting on a glass showcase singing the lines to Nutan over the phone is a moment to cherish. Personally, I have grown up hearing this song being hummed by grandma — it’s her favourite song. The story between a high caste Brahmin boy (Sunil Dutt) and a low caste girl (Nutan) is one of the greatest cinematic commentaries on marriage across castes — a problem still persisting in twenty-first century India.

SEVEN: Movie Madhumati (1958): Zulmi Sang Ankh Ladi re…Sakhi Kaa Se Kahoon,Jane Kaise Yeh Baat Badhi…ek din chhota raat badi…Zulmi sang ankh ladi. Mera pagal pana toh koi dekho,  pukaroon main chanda ko sajan ke naam se, manke jadoo ki chhadi se… Zulmi sang ankh ladi re…. (Transl: Need help in translating these lines. Completely at a loss for words) When it comes to Madhumati, I am always stuck with which song to choose? All the songs are equally delightful and unique. Salil Chaudhury‘s music and Shailendra’s lyrics combine to create an eternal musical. This song is less known than Bichhua or Ghadi Ghadi Mora Dil Dhadke or Aaaja re — but the beauty of the song is concealed  in its  rustic language full of mock anger at the object of love who is addressed as ‘ruthless‘ . Lataji’s timeless voice adds to the haunting effect of the song. The charms of a suave Dilip Kumar from the city coolly watching the gorgeous Vaijayanthi Mala dancing unrestrained on the village streets,  something that you can only feel if you observe and perceive. Watch the expressions of Johnny Lever in the song and you will get an idea of what subtle comedy is.

SIX: Movie Khamoshi (1969): Woh Shaam Kuchh Ajeeb Thi, Yeh Shaam Bhi Ajeeb, Woh Kal Bhi Paas Paas Thi, Woh Aaj Kareeb Hai…Jhooki Hui Nigahon Mein Kahin Mera Khayal Tha… Dabee Dabee Hansi Mein Ek Haseen Sa Gulal Tha…Main Soch ta tha mera naam gunguna rahi hai woh, najane kyon laga mujhe muskura rahi hai woh (Rough Transl: There was something starnge about that evening and there is something strange in this evening…). The song is one of my favourite Kishore Kumar renditions. The effect of a Ghazal combined with modern instruments is simply outstanding — the feel of the water rippling across the boat makes the song a delight to the ears.  Watch the expressions of Waheeda Rehman when she sits like a wooden doll on the boat.

FIVE: Movie Pyaasa (1957). Jaane Kya Tune Kahi Jaane Kya Maine Suni, Baat Kuchh Ban Hi Gayee….Sansanahat si hui, Thartharahat si hui, jaag uthe khwab kayee baat kucch ban hi gayee… (Rough Transl: Who knows what you said? Who knows what I heard? Something changed and something just snapped….There was some stirring and my soul rose from its deep slumber….). There is something called melody and there is something called performance — Guru Dutt was a master of both. The pursued playfully inviting the pursuer to pursue her — a combination of beauty, grace, wit, charm, and love.  This is one of those lighter songs of Waheeda Rehman and Guru Dutt that stand out in the history of Dutt’s cinematic style. Combining the charms of folk lilt and the mischief in the voice of Geeta Dutt, this song shall remain a core favourite. Moreover, observe the song for its Light and Shadow cinematic technique — simply magnificent.

FOUR: Movie Dil Hi Toh Hai (1963): Laaga Chunri Mein Daag Chhupaaoon Kaise,  Chunari Main Daag Chupaaoon Kaise, Ghar Jaoon Kaise.  Hogayee Mailee Moree Chunariya, Kore Badan Si Kori Chunariya… Jaake Babul Se Nazrein Milaoon Kaise Ghar Jaaoon Kaise? …Kori chunariya atma mori maill hai maya jaal, woh duniya more babul ka ghar yeh duniya sasural…jaake baabul se nazarein milaoon kaise ghar jaoon kaise? (Rough Trans: My veil has been stained, how do I hide it? Oh, How do I face my father, Oh How do I go home?) This song by Mannadey can be easily branded as the most philosophical song of Hindi cinema. Only Mannadey could have handled such a composition where the soul is compared to a veil and the world to the in-laws place, and God’s abode is thought of as the father’s house. The song speaks of the strife of the world staining the soul. Just listen to the melody, the pure chhandas and aalaaps in Manna Dey’s unparalleled classical rendering. The classical dance by Padmini is so completely in sync with the spirit of the song. The combination of the carnal with the spiritual makes the song a masterpiece of Indian cinema.

THREE: Movie Sahib, Biwi, aur Ghulam (1962): Piya Aiso Jeeya Main Samaye Geyo Re, ke Main taan-maan ki suddh-buddh gawa baithi, har ahat pe samjhe woh aaye gayo re, jhat ghunghat mein mukhda chhupa baithi . The melodious voice of Geeta Dutt somehow deserves much more accolades than has been given to her. Geeta Dutt brings out the raw beauty in melody whether it is Piya Aiso or it is Babujee Dhire Chalna. She remains my favourite voice for all times. Added to the charm of her song, Meena Kumari’s performance in the song brings out the best that Indian cinema could aspire. Especially, observe the two girls helping her out in dressing up — it seems Guru Dutt brings  a painting out of a canvas and places it on the canvas of the camera.

TWO: Movie Kala Pani (1958): Accha Jee Main Haree, Chalo Maan Jao Na, Dekhi Sabki Yaree Mera Dil Jalao Na…Chhote Se Kasoor pe Aise Ho Khafa? Roothe Toh Huzoor The Meri Kya Khataa…. S.D.Burman’s music, Asha Bhonsle and Rafi Saab’s voices combined with out of the world expressions by Madhubala and Dev Saab –  what is called great cinema . There is a moment in the song where Dev Saab sings : “Ho lena kisike” to Madhuabala’s question “Kya Karna Hai Jeeke?” Unforgettable is the only word that I can think of. The playfulness and charm  of the singers flow into the playfulness of the protagonists. I fell in love with Dev Saab instantly when I saw him in this song and in Har Fikr ko Dhuyein Mein Udata Chala Gaya,  Khoya Khoya Chand which are my all time favourites.

A clipping

ONE: Movie Howrah Bridge (1958): “Aaiye meherbaan baithyie jaane jaaan, shauk se lijiye jee ishq ke imtihiyaan…” . Shakti Samanta’s movie Howrah Bridge marked the turning point of Hindi cinema. Watch this song as one of the best examples of the earliest forms of Club music and of course my biases for Madhubala is self-evident. Her easy charm, effortless beauty, and extremely expressive eyes add to the beauty of the song. Asha Bhonsle’s voice combines an easy melody and feather-like delicacy in the song. Especially remarkable is K.N.Singh’s glances and expressions — lechery and desire completely overt in expressions. Ashok Kumar’s sophistication acts as the crowning glory.

Let me add that this list is completely incomplete . The Black and White era is so rich in Indian cinema that it would be an injustice to say that you have accomplished a countdown with a handful of songs. I have deliberately left out some of my all time favourites like Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar;  Lag Jaa Gale Ke Phir Yeh Haseen Raat Ho Na Ho; Ajeeb Dastaan Hai Yeh; Main Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhata Chala Gaya; Kuchh Dil Ne Kaha, Kuchh Bhi Nahin; Chalo Ek Baar Phir Se Ajnabee Ban Jaye Hum Dono; Jane Woh Kaise Log The; Hum Bekhoodi Mein Tumko; Aaaja Piya tohe Pyar Doon….. Simply because time and space do not permit me to discuss all these songs on Iris.

Hope you enjoyed the selections here….Do write back with your favourites. Signing off…. Goodnight and take care!

A student asked me before I could complete the segment: “Ma’am, why is it so, that many of the lives of these great writers or poets or singers are so dark? Why does it happen that they live in pain?” My response was : “See, reading literature, enjoying literature, and living literature are different things. These people “lived” literature. Anxiety for acceptance and the lack of it are probably one of the reasons. These great writers, poets, musicians, sculptors, etc. kept on struggling with the anxiety of being accepted by themselves,the world, by peers, and by a lot of people. For them, money and livelihood was also important because they had chosen a profession which did not pay a lot, they also were struggling for love, or else an intellectual acceptance by peers”. I hope this interpretation made sense to people. I have been thinking of a few questions that come along these lines — How is it that we are accepted or rejected by people? On what basis is an acceptance or non-acceptance? It might be intellectual in nature or emotional in nature. When I thought a little in-depth, decided to bring a slice of literature and life to Iris for you all.  Thought of carrying some parts of my discussion “how popular is popularity?” from the last article in a new form in this article. I am drawing a few threads for this article from my classroom experiences, from personal conversations, and from life in general.

I was in conversation with a friend and asked him: “How do people deal with rejections? I mean how do they deal with or possibly live with something like a ‘break-up’ or an emotional ‘un-acceptance’ in personal/ professional circles or among peers? When a paper gets repeatedly rejected or when people don’t consider your views seriously? He had an interesting response to share. He said something like the following: “This happens when people keep things repressed. They struggle with rejecting the emotion in the first place. They think of ‘growing out’ of it soon and for them the ideal is the greatest source of agony or joy. The simplest solution is to ‘accept it’ and live with it, until the scars are wiped out and whenever one recollects, it is not bitterness but happiness that brings back memories of the moments spent.”

Have you ever come across the following lines from William Wordsworth’s “Lucy” poem series?

I stop here today. Let me grab a bite for lunch. Till then, you enjoy reading and look at the ‘Pie-Chart’ that Panapatti has sent as a gift to Iris on its 30K mark.  Bbye! Take care of yourselves! See you very soon

Iris

When Anne had started Iris, hardly did she know that it is going to be a part of an identity that was to last for so long. My frequent readers will remember the statement I had given in the ‘About Me’ page where I wrote that I am blogging because others in my neighbourhood including Aamir (Khan) and Shekhar Kapur are blogging too and that I am just “Wordless in WordPress” . Well, now it seems that those who started writing with me have either got immortalized ( the ‘Greatest among Common (hu) men’)  or have completely slipped into anonymity. Some of my contemporaries like Mr. Bachhan (we started around the same time ) are still into passionate blogging while others have moved away.

One of these days a colleague was discussing with me about social sites and networking, and he said “blogs are passe”. I refuse to believe the statement that blogs are passe. These are platforms where you can be truly creative without trying to be consciously creative.  Iris has a personal interest in anything that has been termed ‘passe’ because it believes that the ‘passe or what is dismissed as past gets recycled someday and filters in some way into the future/present’.

The interesting part of Iris’s journey has been its anonymity. Google has still not reached the original crawl of Anne De Plume’s identity and it is a game that I cherish. Those who know my ‘real’ name can type and fish me out, but those who don’t know the name, would perhaps like to say: “what is there in a name?” (Shakespeare) .  Anne De Plume is a derivation of Nom De Plume. Initially it was designed to protect the identity of a young woman/student writing blog articles on relationships, life, and life at IIT. However, slowly Anne became an alter ego of the person who is drafting this blog. Many who have known Anne personally know her ‘other’ identities and the person(s) she is. Those who do not know her and are searching for her ‘real’ identity — well, it’s just a matter of time .

While I was writing this article, a thought has been constantly crossing my mind which I  pose before you all as a question: “how popular is popularity?” I mean how desirable is it to be after TRPs and USPs?  Are extreme popularity and extreme anonymity both not injurious to health? Is there some way that one strikes a balance between both? Heath Ledger became extremely popular after his character Joker in the Dark Knight, but perhaps he lived the life of the Joker and believed it as deeply as he portrayed it: “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain” (Joker, Batman, 2008) . Mariilyn Monroe too lived and kept trying to prove her worth as someone beyond the ‘dumb blonde’ image. Popularity is usually followed by a series of misadventures, pressure to ‘keep proving yourself’ to the world, etc. I was trying to understand SRK and his recent demeanor in all the interviews and promos that he has been giving of late. It appears as if the pressure of constantly proving himself as the “king” of Bollywood is driving him to an edge — a constant drive to ‘remain’ popular rather than to achieve popularity.

There is the other extreme of this story too. How far is extreme anonymity tolerated by those who have the mettle to prove themselves in the world, with perhaps their circumstances not letting them do so or else their lives designed to keep them in that anonymity? I am thinking loudly of Dr. Subhas Mukhopadhyay whose life and death inspired Tapan Sinha’s award-winning movie Ek Doctor ki Maut (1990). For those who intend to know who Dr. Subhas Mukhopadhyay was, just a quick brush — he was the Doctor who actually invented the “test-tube” baby, an honour which was apparently refused to him during his life time. He was struggling against the extreme anonymity that Indian scientists and inventors had/have to go through due to the lack of research funds and peer acceptance of research ideas. A young doctor played in the movie brilliantly by Pankaj Kapur, cannot survive the humiliation of being  pushed into anonymity by his peers and is driven to commit suicide in the end.  The story centers around a hypothesis that India lost a Nobel Prize in medicine to the British Scientist Edwards because of internal strife and nonrecognition of Dr. Mukhopadhyay’s talent by people close to him and by international reviewers alike.

Fame and anonymity both come with their own set of baggage. Handling the baggage of extreme popularity and extreme anonymity must be tough in its own ways. We always look and long for the ‘others” life thinking that it is perhaps the best life that one can have. Coming to this popularity quotient of Iris, let me show you an interesting pie-chart that a friend drew on his whiteboard recently trying to explain me the ‘essence’ of Iris :

Iris Simplified

We were in the midst of a discussion on something related to academics, when he suddenly said: “I read your Iris. Dhut! There seems to be a complete loop in which you exist and one can show in a pie-chart the activities of your blog. It moves from “Love” to “Individual/Depression/Distinctiveness etc.”, to “Leadership”, to “Short-Stories and Poems (very little component), to “Love” once again” ….. “So what is there as the crux of Iris? Seems there is very little movement in your circle except love or the lack of it” . I was taken aback,laughed, surprised, and humbled. I said that “since you think that deeply to analyze/critique Iris in a pie-chart there must be something really popular about Iris” . I captured his whiteboard in a camera (old habit of clicking pictures of certain people’s whiteboards) and scared him with a thousand statements regarding how am I going to portray him on Iris . As far as Anne’s response regarding love or the lack of it forming the crux of Iris is concerned, she has always said on this platform that it is love not hatred that actually is the driving force of this universe and Iris tries to capture a bit of that emotion in its pages. Popularity and fame comes as a byproduct of passionate involvement in one’s work, to be kept at bay so that it doesn’t sweep you off your feet.

I pause this post here with the question of popularity still lurking. It’s 2 am at night and a strong chilly breeze blows across the balcony, feeling the chill of another  winter. For the time-being  it is a matter of celebrations for us here because of the receding Diwali hangover. Let me know how did you celebrate your Diwali? Sharing a picture of my Diwali and Iris celebrations (of course sans me).

Keep smiling, keep happy, and go strong ! Ciao! See you all soon!

With the fairy bulbs and Deeyas

It was a particularly busy evening (not that I am free on other days ). I was working on my laptop and editing something frantically that a friend had sent me , was simultaneously working on an Introduction, continuously getting calls from the hostel, directing the people there regarding the next course of action, and again running back to the laptop to work, and also reviving from a bout of typhoid. In between there were some calls from a friend regarding her personal issues, and there was the next morning’s classes to be thought of.

My mom who was observing me through her specs,  smiled and said “I thought you needed help, so I came down here but seems as if you have decided to sacrifice your life for the sake of the universe…Book me a return ticket home.”  I smiled back at her from my laptop and said, “except you the entire universe doesn’t know that I need help, precisely that is the reason why you are with me here instead of the universe giving me company” . Some of my senior Professors/bosses whom I have heard as a student used to tell us, “remember you are the CEO of your own life and work — how and what you do of it is a matter of your choice and priority”. Transitioning through the role of a student to that of a teacher, I have also said the same things to my class and my students.

These are some asides and events that have led me to a deeper reflection into the nature of a ‘leader’ and ‘what makes a leader?’ I was reading an article recently on LinkedIn (unfortunately the link got lost because of some major deletions that I was doing on the system) that roughly speaks of multitasking and multi-multitasking, and the necessity of good leaders as people who are willing to go multi-multi tasking. The article gave me chills, because it seemed to be so demanding that the requirement seemed to be that of a bonded-laborer rather than a leader who would be a visionary for a startup/mega institution/ society/ world. I am not sure how much I agree to that kind of an understanding of leadership.

I was thinking, how does one justify a Steve Jobs on the one hand and a Muammar Gaddafi on the other hand in this context of leadership? Both Steve Jobs and Gaddafi have been leaders in their own ways. Both must have been into multi multi-multi tasking, then why is the death of one leader a loss for the world while the death of the other leader a clueless moment even for those who are burying him.  There must be something which differentiates a Gadaffi from a Steve Jobs (apart from their professions)?

Every other ‘Personality Development’ workshop, ‘Pre-placement talk’, ‘Communication Skills’ class, etc. have 10 slides on being a leader that are crafted, presented, and rattofied by the rest of the ‘lower mortals’. I say ‘lower mortals’ because it seems as if we are having a dearth of the ‘thinking questioning reflecting’ homo sapien.  I wonder that how many of us actually attempt to understand ‘leadership’ before we rattle of  the qualities of a leader.

As educators, we keep relentlessly talking about ‘leadership’ and ‘leadership qualities’ to our students through the texts that we teach in the class or through the problems that we give them to solve.

Well here are some of my random thoughts regarding ‘who is a leader’. These are disjointed notes and often narrated in context of a certain book or text in the class.  These are purely random in nature and there is a disclaimer attached regarding their ‘empirical truths’ or that I have personally experienced any success from these aspects. These are only thought-moments in pen, discussed time and again during my sessions with students, open to be debates:

1. A leader is someone who ‘generates’ ideas and creates her/his own platform to execute those ideas. Precisely, leaders are people who think ‘laterally’ and who are not afraid of their own thoughts. We are talking about the ‘creme de la creme’ of the society not the managers who need people management skills rather than leadership virtues. Leaders as per my perception goes are those who ‘design their destiny’ in tandem with the world’s destiny.

2. A leader thinks with the society as well as is beyond the society. Multi-tasking for the society maybe one attribute, but not the entire profile. It is better to do three things well, rather than goof-up five things while trying to multi-task. They can be individualistic in their working styles  (Steve Jobs for example) or might-be great team players (Sergey Brin, Larry Page). Famous painters like Monet or Van Gogh who were essentially individualistic in their life and styles, but their requirement of individualism comes from the demand of the profession they are in.

3. A leader is someone who has a set of ideals, values, and principles that are “basically” (not ‘necessarily’) constructively designed and goes beyond ones personal benefit. These values or ideals do not necessarily ‘abide’ by the demands of the society. Raja Ram Mohun Roy or Vivekananda for instance were not abiding by what the world desired from them. Yet, there was ‘something’ fundamentally constructive in their thoughts.

4. Trust is the keyword for any relationship — personal or professional.  Until you trust people and people learn to trust you back, you will be only abiding by rules and following orders. People say that our trust has been broken, that we face difficulties trusting, etc. However,  I feel until you learn to trust yourself you can’t trust others. If there is one person who breaks your trust there will be ten others who will keep that trust if you have trusted in the ‘right spirit’. At the top institutes of the world, while there is an excessive learning fascination, trust is the major thing that is lacking.

5. A leader is a continuous ‘learner’. People, situations, real-time problems, even as simple as a car break-down  teaches to work-out your own unique set of solutions. Some of the greatest automobile designers of the world, like Giorgetto Giugiaro, the designer of the Ferrari 250 have been influenced by real-time problems  of space, speed, design, accommodation, convenience, etc. If I take an example from literature, Shakespeare is considered to be one of the greatest ‘learners’ of the world. He entered the scenario of English drama coming from a humble grammar school background, when the ruling dramatists of the age including Marlow, Thomas Kyd, Nash, etc were from the ‘University’  (University Wits group). Shakespeare ‘learnt’ continuously by observing and then he reworked+adapted the dramas such that they would suit the taste of the ‘common (hu) man’ for the centuries to come.

6. Leaders are the greatest risk-takers of the world. They take risks with their career, their achievements, their desires,as well as their selves.

7. These are people who learn to ‘live’ with stress rather than ‘coping’ with stress. Stress-factor is a common element in their lives, but their lives are also designed to be ‘re-designed’ as per the requirements of the time. I have observed some of the closest people in my circle leading a particular professional field because they have learnt to take stress and mold it into a strength. I have observed one of my mentors, his life is full of the stress that comes with being in an institute of high-repute. However, he has found his way by letting go through music. In addition to being a leading Professor, he spends maximum of his spare time practicing and teaching Hindustani Classical music and writing on music.

8. This is my invention of ‘leadership’. Somehow, I have an intuitive feeling that leaders are not only deadline keepers, they are aware of the necessity of slowing down and then picking up the pace. Present day technological studies are known to be deadline keepers, but the necessity of also understanding the need for ‘slowing down’ in the right place at the right time is as fundamentally  essential. It is not about ‘time management’ but about ‘time strategizing’

Ultimately, leadership is about being “aware” of yourself and of the “world around you” and of being “honest” with your individual traits. Whether you are the ‘leader’ of a family, an institution, a country, or the world, what makes you unique is — YOU!

Why am I suddenly turning Iris into a gyan-giving platform? Well, I was just sanitizing my class notes. You might find this article “just another” self-motivation subject. Yet, I nurse a deeper and more sinister ambition. Perhaps, Prof. Rajeev Motwani would have empathized with it — had he been alive (will not clarify it to you ).

(This post is dedicated to some of the great thinkers of our times including Steve Jobs and Rajeev Motwani)