"...sir woh kya hai na aaj mera pehla din hai"

"...sir woh kya hai na aaj mera pehla din hai" 

said the guy in a light blue uniform, accompanied by a smart cap. ["sir, you see, today happens to be my first day"]

It was a Friday morning, and I found myself rushing to the office for a meeting. Just minutes before the meeting was due to start, I barely managed to arrive. The next challenge was finding a parking space. To my dismay, I could not spot any vacant slot on the ground level, so I drove down to the basement level, crossing my fingers on both hands. But only if crossing fingers worked on Friday mornings! There was no vacant slot in sight, even in the basement. "Why cant people chill a bit on a Friday and come a little late! Especially the ones who come in cars" I wondered.

Right across our designated parking I saw a wide open space. About 30 empty rectangular white spots looking at my plight with pity. "One. Just one of those beautiful rectangular spaces is all I need!" I thought. I looked to my left & right. Then, like a child rushing to steal chocolates from the fridge (when no one's looking at home), I swiftly parked in one of those spots. Exiting the car, I suddenly spotted a uniformed figure materialize out of thin air. Traffic cops & security guards just apparate like wizards, prakat ho jaate hai.

"Sir, which company?" he inquired, noting the absence of the required sticker on my windshield. "Yaar I couldn't find an empty spot there, so I parked here," I explained. He politely clarified that I couldn't park there. I insisted, but he persisted, mentioning it was his first day and he wished to avoid any issues. Pulling out a business card from my wallet, I urged him to call if there was any trouble. After some pleas, he gave in.

Around 12:30 pm, my phone rang. "Sir, are you in the office?" he asked. "Yes, should I come down now?" I responded, ready to leave my seat. "No Sir. Only a few spaces are left. If they fill up, I'll call you. Just making sure you're nearby in case," he explained before hanging up.

In the evening, I went back to the parking lot. The moment I reached the car, he apparated. "Thank you, dost" I expressed my gratitude. I pulled out my wallet and offered a twenty. He showed me his hand, gesturing that it was not needed. I insisted. This time he did not persist, moving the palm of his right hand towards his face to signal his gratitude. I got in the car, still smiling. Smiling in the same spot I was all but smiling that morning.

As I drove out of the basement, it hit me that, in an attempt to get out of a sticky situation, I had ended up transferring my worries to him. The least I could have done was to come down after a few hours to see if the car could be moved, freeing that noble man's soul.

At times, we encounter kind individuals who go out of their way to assist us. It's important to acknowledge our responsibility for our actions and how they might affect those offering help. In our haste to solve our problems, we might unintentionally burden them.

"...Why is it all about 'He' and not 'She'?"

"...Why is it all about 'He' and not 'She'?" My little one asked me this question a couple of hours ago this morning.

She had contracted what seemed like a viral infection a few days back, which wasn't going away. So, this morning, I decided to take her to the doctor and stay home with her all day. So, if any of my colleagues are reading this, that's the reason I'm missing the office on our anchor day.

While we were waiting for the doctor, she noticed the framed picture on the wall (as shown in the attached image) and quickly raised the question. Uncertain about how to explain the concept of inclusivity to her, I replied, "You are absolutely right. It should have been 'he/she.' In the past, 'he/him' was a commonly used pronoun to express generic thoughts, but that is changing now with greater awareness. This frame must be a decade old."

 

She countered, "So what if it's a decade old? And why not 'they'?" That question left me stumped. As an HR professional who has always been mindful of diversity and inclusion, I found myself caught off guard. While 'he/she' can be used, she was right – 'they' is even more appropriate to make it truly gender-neutral.

Moments later, the doctor called us in for the check-up. At the end of the visit, I told him about my daughter's observation, and he smiled. I explained how she suggested using 'they' and how I told her that the frame might need an update. "Beta, you know you can't refer to a child as an 'it,' so 'he' is often used as a generic pronoun," he explained.

Now this doctor is really a doctor in all terms (his practice as well as an individual), but I felt the need to defend my daughter here. "Doctor, she already said it should have been 'they,' not 'it' or 'he,' and I think she's right," I replied softly, with a wide grin. The doctor chuckled and said, "You've got a little Greta Thunberg there!" As we left the clinic, holding hands, we hoped that the frame would soon be replaced with a more inclusive one before our next visit.

Charity begins at home, I had learned as a child. So does inclusivity, probably more so.

"...bang the door with force, its useless!!..."

"...bang the door with force, its useless!!..."

...exclaimed the uncle, giving the poor door an angry stare. 

We have an old-fashioned lift in our building. It has two grills that need to be slid shut for the lift to move up/down. There is a door on the outside and then one on the inside that is attached to the moving unit. If either of the doors doesnt close well, the lift lady will keep on saying "Please close the door, kripaya darwaza band kijiye" till the end of eternity (were you to not pay heed to her request). 

Lately, it has been seen that when one enters the lift on the ground floor, even though one shuts the doors properly, the lady keeps singing. As a result, people keep sliding the grills back and forth. Two things are noticeable :-

1. Every person uses increasing force to bang the door shut with each attempt.

2. Nearly everyone fiddles with and closes the door closest to them, the grill connected to the lift.

On this particular day, only three of us were in the lift: a young man, the uncle, and myself. When the lady kept asking us to shut the door, the uncle seemed annoyed and asked the young chap to shut the inner door with force. 

There are a couple of noteworthy observations here.

1. This problem only occurs on the ground floor, not on any other floor. If the inside door was the issue, it would affect all floors.

2. The outer door issue wasn't getting fixed even when people banged it with force. However, something eventually clicked, coz the lift would move after a few tries. 

Later that day, I faced the same issue when I was coming up again. I closed the doors but the lift lady refused to stop talking. I opened the outer door again and gently slid it shut until it couldn't move any further. That was it, the lift lady took a chill pill and the lift moved up. Apparently, there's an issue with the outer door that causes it to rebound slightly when shut forcefully, breaking the connection. When closed gently, it stays put. However, most people (myself included initially) were using force to shut it, assuming it required strength.

1. Often, when we face a problem, we instinctively knock or hit the nearest / most accessible door, without logically considering which one needs attention.

2. When things don’t work as expected, often force/push/pressure comes as the first line of action, whereas sometimes it is the exact opposite of the actual need. Only when the force fails to yield, do we try a softer approach, instead of the other way round. 

"Bola na, zor se band karo tabhi hota hai" [Told you, use force to make it work], the uncle had said. Little did he know that the lift eventually moved due to luck, not force.

What we believe works well, isn't always what truly works well.

"...why is this creaky sound not going away..."

"...why is this creaky sound not going away..."

...I said to myself.

While driving to work last Tuesday, I noticed a creaky sound each time I shifted gears. It took me a few minutes to realize the sound was actually coming each time I was pressing the clutch (to switch gears). After noticing it for 5 more minutes, I made a note in my To-Do list to visit a mechanic for it. However, the creaky sound continued to play on my mind. Then, suddenly, I recalled something from my memory.

Around 15 years ago, I actively participated in a renowned online forum for car enthusiasts. I used to read car reviews and threads on car related issues. There was one particular dude who used to show up with a lot of questions - a lot around noises in his car. "My door makes a squeaky sound when I close it, any idea why?" "My steering wheel makes a clicking sound when I turn it too quick, what could cause it?" "My cabin noise is too much when I drive over 100, how to address it?" "My suspension seems to make a noise when I hit a pot hole. Shall I get them checked?" Given the forum's wealth of expertise, he always received valuable insights. 

One day, he posted yet another inquiry about a peculiar sound. An experienced forum member swiftly responded with a refreshing perspective. He said - "Buddy, it's wonderful that you're so attentive to your car and your driving experience. However, at times you need to chill. You are missing out on the pleasure of driving due to constant worrying about the noise. Sometimes it is best to turn up the stereo volume and enjoy some loud music – all the noises that you may be hearing will get suppressed by the good music. So crank up the music, enjoy the drive. Cheers."

This response has stayed with me. It is so apt for every aspect of life. Often, we find ourselves entangled in trivial worries at work or in our personal lives, losing sight of the positive aspects surrounding us.

So then I turned up the music and the creaky sound stopped reaching my ears. I haven't dismissed it (I made a note of it), but the music helped get my mind off it.

Turn that music volume up, if you haven’t already.

"...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.