"...sorry, kiti? Samajhla naahi..."

"...sorry, kiti? Samajhla naahi..."

I said in Marathi, with a weak smile [sorry, how much? I did not get what you said.]

A few weeks ago, I noticed white spots on my leather shoes. Despite my efforts with the shoe polish I had at home, the spots remained stubborn. So, I decided to have them polished by a kind cobbler near the railway station. As I headed towards that cobbler, I spotted another one two blocks away from my building. I'd seen him often as I passed by. I had noticed he used only his left hand due to an issue with his right hand. Opting to support him, I approached him for his services.

Approaching him, I requested a shoe polish and inquired about the price. He mumbled, making his words hard to hear. That's when I responded with what I mentioned earlier. He repeated, this time showing three fingers and said, "Tees, Tees" [Thirty, Thirty]. I nodded and agreed to the price before giving him the go-ahead.

He began by taking a polish container and opening it using his left hand and left foot. Hesitantly, I asked, "What happened to your right hand?" He looked up, half-smiling, and replied, "My right side got paralyzed a few years ago." It became clear why his initial words were difficult to understand. Only the left half of his mouth worked. Learning this, I refrained from asking more and observed him silently. He displayed remarkable skill in his craft, despite the limitation of one set of limbs. He utilized his functioning hand and foot, even tactically using his non-functional arm to support his work. It was difficult for me to explain how he managed to execute the task using the inoperable limb, so I shot a video of him in action. 

Upon completion, I felt the urge to pay him more than he'd asked for - just Rs. 30/- for the excellent job. However, unsure if it would be well-received, I paid the agreed amount, expressed gratitude, and left, with a resolve to return for future cobbler needs.

It was another humbling encounter and a reminder that possessing a fully functional body is a privilege not everyone enjoys. Despite challenges, many strive alongside us, raising families and meeting their needs with pride.

If any of you stay in Vile Parle (E), he operates at the junction of Hanuman road and Tejpal road near the railway station. Visit him next time you want to mend/polish your footwear (or get your umbrella repaired). You might just end up mending more than your footwear....

Link to video:  https://www.linkedin.com/posts/jimishbathia_sorry-kiti-samajhla-naahi-i-said-activity-7101820490423369728-Fyu8?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_android

"...every damn light is red today..."

"...every damn light is red today..." I cursed.

So I had a morning meeting yesterday. It was my office day, so I had planned to reach the office a few minutes before the call and attend it with a colleague from the office. It was a Zoom call (post-pandemic, is it even a meeting if it's not on Zoom/Teams?) with one participant from my Mumbai office, one from NCR, and one from Singapore. So yes, it had to be partially virtual.

I planned my morning well, but to my dismay, our domestic help took an unplanned day off, and I had to get some things done before I could leave. Finally, I sat in the car and turned the GPS on. I have a GPS OCD (too), and I just don't go anywhere outside of a kilometer radius without depending on Karen Jacobson's [the voice behind Google Maps] directions.

So I started the GPS navigation. The ETA shown was 2 minutes after my meeting start time. I calculated 3 more minutes to park and reach my desk. So 5 minutes is what I had to cover. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, I thought. I am not the slowest of drivers anyway, and I knew I could make up that time easily.

But oh, the Signal Gods had a wicked sense of humor yesterday. They must have sensed my urgency and decided to play an elaborate prank. The first three signals I encountered were devilish red, taunting me as I approached each one. I found myself stuck at the third signal, a monstrous 180+ seconds of crimson illumination. I shifted my car into neutral, mimicking Michael Schumacher at the starting line of an F1 race, anticipating the precise moment to unleash my inner speed demon. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of an uninterrupted streak of red lights. The ETA on my GPS screen grew worse with each passing second. "I will take the first 10 minutes of the meeting from the car then," I resigned, as I reached a kilometer away from the office.

The Gods must like collaboration. The Roadworks Gods seemed to be chilling with the Signal Gods and wanted to have fun too. A kilometer away, I found the road leading to my office blocked, which meant I had to turn back and take a different route. I finally reached the office, 20 minutes into the call, having taken most of it on the phone and the last 5 with my colleague at the office.

1. Reflecting on the eventful morning, I realized the undeniable truth: Murphy's Law is more than a mere adage—it's a force of nature. It manifests itself on those days when we are determined to arrive somewhere on time, throwing obstacle after obstacle in our path, testing our resilience.

2. Or perhaps, Murphy's Law is merely a trick of the mind. It selectively registers the adversities we face when striving for achievement. Who's to say that I haven't encountered a barrage of red lights on other days? Perhaps my mind disregarded them in the absence of urgency.

3. So often we unnecessarily build pressure on ourselves, setting unwanted targets and expectations on silly things. I drove all the way to work worrying about not being able to reach by my target time. Eventually, I did not. But well, no one has fired me from the job (atleast not yet) for taking a Zoom call from my car instead of being my office.

The cherry on the cake? The zoom meeting did not have the zoom link due to some glitch! So I had to park the car and request the organizer to add me to the meeting as I wasnt able to hunt my emails for the link, if it was sent just prior to the meeting.

"...mereko Gems chahiye pehle!!..."

"...mereko Gems chahiye pehle!!..."

...demanded the cute little voice of a 2-3 year old ["I want Gems first!!!"].

Last week, we made a pit stop at a restaurant on the highway to grab some lunch. Next to our table was another family. Mom, dad & a cute little munchkin. 

The parents were clearly having a hard time convincing the little one to sit & eat. The mom kept running behind him with a morsel of roti in her hand. The little champ ensured he managed to keep his face & lips a clear one foot away from the mother's hand at all times. "I will buy you a pack of Gems if you eat your food," said the mom. Champ gave her an evaluating look. The mom took the brief moment as an opportunity & shoved a piece of roti in his mouth. The champ's mouth was clearly not in his camp as it quickly started chewing on the food. It got another bite before the champ decided a stroll was important for his well-being. So he dashed off to a table a nearby, glanced at the people, found them worthy of a mischievous smile and came back.

He was back to refusing the food. The mom kept giving the Gems talk as a bribe, but he clearly wasn't biting (the food or her proposal). "I want the Gems first" announced the champ. After some more struggle, the mom finally asked the dad to get a pack from the cash counter. Dad, like every other dad in the world, did as told and came back with a pack of Gems. Mom waived it in front of Champ and that helped sell two more morsels. It was time again for the well-being walk. He walked up to the next table and gave the masala papad on their table a thoughtful look before returning back to base.

One more morsel was accepted with one eye on the Gems pack and then he declared "Open Gems! ". "After you finish this whole roti," said the mom firmly, eye pointing at the quarter of a roti on the plate on the table. "Open Gems!" Pat came the concise demand. After some more tries, the mom finally gave up and opened the pack, dropped a couple of gems on her palm & extended the hand. The champ's arm made a swift move like a cobra attacking an unsuspecting prey and grabbed the whole open pack from her other hand. He then made a run for it, exposing all of his 7-8 teeth with glee. The last bit of roti remained on the plate, envying the colourful gems that were getting devoured by the Champ.

- Mentioning about incentives works. But it works only to a point.

- Eventually, the carrot literally needs to be dangled to get more done - seeing/feeling is believing.

- After a point, the dangling carrot also doesn't work and the subject needs to be allowed a bite of it.

- However, if one is not careful, the subject might just gobble up the whole carrot and abandon the task for which the carrot was offered in the first place. 

No wonder at times carrots like joining/retention bonuses with claw back periods don't work. Champs still manage to run away with the pack of Gems and replace it back by sourcing Gems from the next dangler.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

So we are at this wonderful property in Dalhousie. The hotel had organized some games last evening, including a game of Housie (bingo) & Musical chairs. 

The musical chairs started with 15 chairs & 20+ players. We all lined up around the chairs. While we were waiting, I heard someone say "I will tell them when the music stops." The voice belonged to a young lady who was talking to someone in the audience. She then used sign language to convey the same to 2 other participating ladies. It seemed both the ladies had an impairment and couldn't talk or hear. The two ladies nodded their heads in agreement, clearly excited about playing the game.

The music started and a big chunk of people were eliminated in the first round, including the lady who I had heard speak. In the next few rounds, many were eliminated. At one point, there were 7 chairs (8 people) left. Both the ladies were still in the game, along with me. What was commendable was that, in spite of them not being able to hear the music, they were observing other players. They probably knew that as soon as the music stops, the players would make a move for the nearest chair and that would be their cue too!

Eventually, one of the ladies was eliminated and there were 5 chairs pending. Another couple of rounds went by and I survived to make it to the final round. 3 chairs, 4 people. The 3 survivors will all get a prize. The music started and as soon as it ended I rushed to grab the chair nearest to me. The only person to not get a chair was the surviving differently abled lady, who let out a smile in despair and walked away, clapping with all her heart for the 3 winners.

It wasn't a great feeling for me, though. This wasn't a level playing field and the 2 ladies were certainly at a disadvantage in a game where the sense of hearing was crucial. After collecting the prize, I felt a strong urge to walk up to the lady and hand over the prize to her as she clearly had aced the game given her condition. However, I was mindful that what I thought of as a kind gesture could very well backfire and end up being seen as pity and upset her. She might feel I was giving my prize to her due to her condition (which was true). I realized I needed to let her have the dignity of loss, to feel that she played as part of the group like any other individual and was eliminated. 

Next, there was a game of housie. The lady started rattling off numbers. The other family was struggling to keep up. I got up and went to the lady calling out the numbers and asked her to write each number on the board after calling them out. The least I could do to make it a level playing field this time, I thought.

In continuation with my prior post, this is also a privilege we all have. The privilege of having normal functioning body parts. One we take for granted all our lives. If you ever say "this is not fair!" after losing out on something, think about it again. #Gratitude.

"....ji hum toh jyaada kabhi ghoome nahi parivaar ke sath..."

"....ji hum toh jyaada kabhi ghoome nahi parivaar ke sath..."

....said Khemraj, our driver. ["...Sir, I haven't been on many trips with my family..."].

We commenced a trip to Himachal Pradesh and booked a car for the trip. Khemraj (driver) picked us at the airport. On the way, I struck a conversation with him.

"So who all do you have back home?"

"I have been married for 17 years. Have 3 daughters and a son."

"So you all stay together?"

"No, I am staying in a room in Shimla due to work. My wife and kids are staying back in Bilaspur with my parents and brother's family."

"That's nice. How much have you studied? Hope all your kids go to school as well?"

"Yes sir. I have studied till 10+2."

"English medium?"

"English medium schools in my village are 7 kms away. So, I and my kids all studied Hindi medium. Can't afford to send them far."

"Being in this line of work, you and your family would have travelled a lot? Must have seen Kashmir and all."

"No Sir, it's mainly in and around Himachal and then when we can, we take parents to holy places. We have farming to tend to back home and we can't leave that and travel for long. Besides, it takes a lot of money for such a large family to travel. Also, Covid killed tourism and set us back by a few years."

He sported a warm smile the whole time as he spoke, his eyes and smile competing with his spoken words to convey his emotions.

Nearly always, the people helping us with something are deprived of the exact same thing themselves. At an office somewhere...

- The single mom recruiter handing out that high 7 digit offer letter probably wonders if she will ever get there someday too...

- The IT executive from a small town handing out that iPad probably wonders if they can gift their spouse a new phone this year...

- The school drop out security guard probably wonders how it must be to work with a cozy desk, swanky laptop and hybrid work options...

- The transport desk guy booking swanky cars probably wonders when he can save enough to buy that bike he has promised his younger brother...

- The travel desk executive handing out international tickets probably wonders if he will ever be able to take his family on an international trip someday...

- The hardworking pantry staff picking up the pizza left overs probably wonders if they can ever treat their kids to such fancy meals...

- The overworked finance executive processing that hefty reimbursement claim probably wonders if he can take his kids to a luxurious property on a vacation someday... 

- The humble housekeeping lady maintaining the washrooms probably wonders about the washrooms her daughter has to go to at her government run school daily...

The list is unending. We all are privileged in some way or the other and are served/helped by many who aren't. Daily. #Gratitude 

In the picture, Khemraj and I, posing with the beautiful snow-clad mountains in the backdrop.

"...there is no way I am letting you pass, dude...."

"...there is no way I am letting you pass, dude...."

... I declared, in my mind. About a year back, I was driving down the Mumbai-Agra highway, cruising at about 80 kmph. Then one of my fav numbers played on the music system and the hormones made my feet push the accelerator pedal a bit more. In the process, I zipped past a middle-aged man who was peacefully cruising in his car. 

Perhaps I passed by him too close, or he just did not like that I passed by him. The moment I passed him, he started honking incessantly! I looked back in the mirror, annoyed. He picked up speed, continuing to honk. I decided there was no way I was going to let this egoistic maniac pass. I pushed the pedal to zip ahead, feeling good about the moral victory. 

About a couple of kms later, I reached a junction that had some traffic. Google maps showed 7 min congestion. I was stuck behind a long trailer. A few minutes later, I saw the same car show up in my rear view mirror. To my dismay, he was in the next lane, which was moving quicker than mine. I knew it was a matter of time before he would get past me. That moment came and he was now next to me, still honking! I was pissed. There was no reason to honk when he was now going past me. I avoided looking at him. He then rolled his car window down and said "Excuse me". I ignored. He said again, now in a louder voice, "Excuse me!". I glanced sideways, ready to exchange a mean look and maybe some bitter words. "Your fuel lid is open" he said, before rolling up his windows, leaving me look tiny.

Apparently, I had made a fuel stop on one of the pumps and the staff and I both forgot about the fuel lid. For the past several kms I was driving the car with the fuel chamber wide open. I could have fixed it had I actually let the honking guy come next to me so that he could alert me.

- At times, we become way too competitive for our own good. Ironically, it often goes against our own interests.

- People at times will move out of their comfort zone trying to help you, but if we aren't mindful, it might appear that they are coming after you.

- Not all noise (honking) is offensive. At times, noise is needed to get our attention towards something important. Treating all noise as an annoyance and ignoring it might be catastrophic.

- Suspending judgement is a skill that's most difficult to master. Probably the most important one for our mental health, too.

Next time you hear unusual honking/noise, suspend your judgement and keep an open mind.

"...this..this is that Wagle guy..Raj!!..."

"...this..this is that Wagle guy..Raj!!..."

...I thought, as I just went past him, too chicken to stop him and speak to him.

So my daughter made a Holi greeting card last week for a friend. Last year, I had taken her to the post office to show her how mail worked. I told her we would post this letter too. For the last few days, I wasn't able to take her to the post office. This morning I had some time, so I thought of visiting it. She was busy watching her favorite show "Wagle ki Duniya" and was reluctant to come. I asked her if I should go and post it as I was stepping out to run an errand. She agreed.

I left on my bike but the road that leads to the post office was dug up and closed to vehicles. I cursed under my breath, parked my bike and started walking. Half way through, I spotted a handsome chap walking with towards me. It took me a fraction of a second to realize it was the famous actor #Sumeet Raghvan. My daughter is a fan of his show [Wagle Ki Duniya] and watches it daily. For a moment, I thought I should ask him for a selfie so that I could show it to my daughter. But being the introvert I am, there was no way I would exhibit such a behavior! So I continued walking, cursing my introverted nature and how it often costs me opportunities. 

After 4-5 more steps, I questioned my rigidity. Afterall, a snap with him could bring a smile to my daughter's face. I turned around and started pacing behind him, the letter still in my hand. When I reached the end of the road, I spotted him walking towards a car. Since the road was dug up, his driver probably had to wait on the outer road to pick him and Sumeet had to walk it up. When I saw him reach the car door, Usain Bolt's soul entered my body and I sprinted towards him. Just as he was about to close the car door I reached in time and asked "Excuse me, my daughter is your fan and she loves your show. Can I please take a snap for her?" Although most people would not decline such a request, I prayed under my breath hoping he would agree, as I was infringing on his privacy in a way. Sumeet immediately agreed and I took a snap before he left.

- My daughter usually is very enthu and comes with me everywhere I ask her to. Today she hesitated (ironically watching his show) and she missed an opportunity. Sometimes we do everything right but one slack moment and we miss some great action. Luck.

- The dug up road I cursed was a blessing in disguise. Sumeet wouldn't have walked up if the car could come to him. Sometimes what seems as a rough road is actually a road to beautiful opportunities. 

- Most importantly, each one of us can beat our weaknesses (introversion for me) if we find the right motivation to overcome it. The prospect of seeing a smile on my daughter's place made me do something I wouldn't even dream of doing.

Thank you, Sumeet for being kind enough today. Thanks to you, I could bring a smile to my daughter's face, and for a dad, nothing is more precious.