The whole town of Ugar is in a festive mood today. There is a wedding ceremony today evening. In the town of Ugar, there is no ritual of printing and sending invitation cards. There are no social politics of inviting one and not inviting other. The whole town is invited without a formal invitation. All elders of Ugar come to bestow their blessings. Young adults are either friend of the groom/bride or are just there to enjoy the festive mood. Children, well children go anywhere their parents want them to go. But they also have a great time. And there is no formal exchange of presents as well. Blessings is what matters the most. And there is no concept of hiring caterers or making tents etc. A wedding party is one big giant potluck. The whole ceremony happens at the community park. Guest not only bring food but also chairs to sit if they live nearby. People coming from far bring sheets to spread on grass etc. People play volleyball, kids play cricket, some sing while others dance. A normal watcher would be confused whether it is a town picnic or a wedding ceremony.
But one thing that the town of Ugar likes to have is to dress up nicely. Although not a requirement by any means, but it is one occasion where they can wear the impressive designer clothes hanging in their closets. One occasion where they can men can wear their two/three piece coats and women can discuss their silk saris etc.
And this is where the situation becomes tense to Mr. Naman. If Mr. Naman was living alone, he would have gone there wearing a paijama and hopefully a matching kurta. But it is assured that both of them will not be ironed. But the truth is that he is not alone and he has a mother who is hell bent that her son should look good and nothing can come in the way of a mother's will.
Today is a very nervous day for Mr. Naman. He had wished that this day may never come even though he knew that someday he will have to face his inner demons. Everything started on the last wedding ceremony at Ugar. Mr. Naman was wearing a nice two piece suit with a stylish blue tie. It was the only decently maintained piece of clothing in his closet and by this time we should know that who was behind maintaining that. He had worn the same suit-tie in every wedding ceremony for the past two years and one must expect that after two years, although occasionally, that he would have gotten used to wearing it but this is Mr. Naman that we are talking about. So at the last ceremony he had been careless and spilled tomato ketchup over his tie while trying to eat a delicious samosa. Needless to say Mr. Naman's mother was furious but the thought of buying a new tie for her son was more optimistic.
And this is the source of Mr. Naman's tension today. He has to accompany his mother to the market in order for her to choose a nice tie for him. Mr. Naman shudders to think the horrors that he had to go through two years back when he was buying the coat. But it has to be done. So here we are, at an air conditioned garment suiting shop. Even though it is not summer and the air condition is working perfectly fine maintaining a rather cold temperature, Mr. Naman is sweating like water through a strainer.
The guy behind the counter is showing tie after tie, colors- red, blue golden and more, designs - squares, stripes and what not. Mr. Naman was confused as hell. His mother was like a martial in the field, making decisions as quick as ever. Dismissing some rightly, keep some at side, ordering more of this kind, pattern X in color Y and what not. Slowly, Mr. Naman raised his voice and said "What about the tie on that mannequin?" Mr. Naman's mother was surprised to see her son express interest in a tie. She looked at the tie being in question and although it was not what she had in mind but it looked good. Moreover since her son had pointed it out, she agreed instantly. And thus the decision was made and Mr. Naman took a huge sigh of relief.
Later she asked her son, why did you choose that one over others? She wanted to know her son's interests etc. Mr. Naman candidly replied that "since the tie was put on mannequin, it already had a knot. All the others were without a knot and i don't know how to tie a knot. So this was easy." Banging her forehead with her hands, she says to herself - "Why? Why me?"
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Chapter 20
"Naman, hey Naman, get up. There is a letter for you" said Mr. Naman's mother opening the windows of his dark room. It was 10 am on a hot sunny day in Ugar. Mr. Naman opened his eyes and looked at the rotating fan on the ceiling. Watching that celing fan rotate was the first thing he used to do every morning and somehow it brought smile to his face. The cool air circulation, the perpetual motion, and the circular movement, Mr. Naman loved all these abstract aspects of life.
"Whose letter is it, Ma?" asked Mr. Naman. Most of his newspaper article feedback used to come at his office address. He didnt had any pen friend who write to him. Actually Mr. Naman wanted to make one friend while he was young but he didn't like the term pen friend. Why would you name a friend based on the tool of communication, asked Mr. Naman. Surely one does not call your friendly neighbor as wall-friend just because your houses share a common wall. The use of proper words to describe a notion is critical in the world of Mr. Naman.
"How would i know, i have not opened it" responded Mr. Naman's mother. Mr. Naman opened the letter and was surprised to see a fan mail at his home address. The letter writer was a 16 year old kid who was a big fan of Mr. Naman and aspired to be like him. He wanted to learn from Mr. Naman about the requirements to choose writing as his career. How should he shape is future to grab a job in the daily newspaper. He had kept his name anonymous and had asked Mr. Naman to respond in his newspaper column. The letter writer had said that he had found Mr. Naman's home address by stalking him one day.
"Wow!" thought Mr. Naman, "somebody stalked me". Internally he was feeling exuberated on his mini-celebrity status. He wondered how many people like the letter writer would be out there? He thought of immediately write a response to this letter. Mr. Naman was always amazed by people who used to read those self-help books with titles such as - How to say No? or Seven things to be a happy person. The only person who was getting happy in all these books was the book writer because he was making money. The book writers rarely followed what they wrote themselves. Mr. Naman thought that he would respond to this stalker in a similar fashion.
How to build a career in column-writing: The five things to know to be a successful column writer.
By Mr. Naman Ugarwadi.
1. Concentration - One needs to have an excellent power to concentrate on what he is writing. Often, one gets lost in his flow of ideas, a good concentration helps writers to focus on one idea at a time. In order to develop concentration, i suggest learning to peel apple skin in a continuous manner - aka the whole skin should come out as one long piece.
2. Attention to detail - If there is one thing common in all great writers, it has to be their attention to detail. It takes years to get this ability. I suggest you to make a chapati (roti) and ensure that it is a perfect square. You are not allowed to use any external instruments such as rulers in this process.
3. Retention power - Ideas can come anytime. The key is to remember them when you get them to write. Remember what you dreamt last night and write it down the next day, everyday. If you have to, stay awake to capture your dreams although dreams come only when you are asleep.
4. Regularity - You have to write it everyday, a break of mere 2 days and you will find yourself experiencing writer's block. I suggest you to write something everyday, even though it may mean writing the same thing all over again. Your handwriting will be differentiator and if your article/book becomes a hit you will have more than one hand written copies that you can sell.
5. Reading to friends - No matter how good or bad you have written, it is very important that you read that to your friends. They may not like it, go back to your house, or may break your friendship but you must persist. It is only friends feedback that will help you grow. This may even mean that you will have to tie your friends to a chair and read to them, this is indeed very important. Even if you can't do the other four things, you must do this one.
-Mr. Naman.
Feeling quite satisfied by himself that he has mentioned valuable points, Mr. Naman goes to drink some coffee. Somewhere, sometime later a kid will realize the price to stalk someone.
"Whose letter is it, Ma?" asked Mr. Naman. Most of his newspaper article feedback used to come at his office address. He didnt had any pen friend who write to him. Actually Mr. Naman wanted to make one friend while he was young but he didn't like the term pen friend. Why would you name a friend based on the tool of communication, asked Mr. Naman. Surely one does not call your friendly neighbor as wall-friend just because your houses share a common wall. The use of proper words to describe a notion is critical in the world of Mr. Naman.
"How would i know, i have not opened it" responded Mr. Naman's mother. Mr. Naman opened the letter and was surprised to see a fan mail at his home address. The letter writer was a 16 year old kid who was a big fan of Mr. Naman and aspired to be like him. He wanted to learn from Mr. Naman about the requirements to choose writing as his career. How should he shape is future to grab a job in the daily newspaper. He had kept his name anonymous and had asked Mr. Naman to respond in his newspaper column. The letter writer had said that he had found Mr. Naman's home address by stalking him one day.
"Wow!" thought Mr. Naman, "somebody stalked me". Internally he was feeling exuberated on his mini-celebrity status. He wondered how many people like the letter writer would be out there? He thought of immediately write a response to this letter. Mr. Naman was always amazed by people who used to read those self-help books with titles such as - How to say No? or Seven things to be a happy person. The only person who was getting happy in all these books was the book writer because he was making money. The book writers rarely followed what they wrote themselves. Mr. Naman thought that he would respond to this stalker in a similar fashion.
How to build a career in column-writing: The five things to know to be a successful column writer.
By Mr. Naman Ugarwadi.
1. Concentration - One needs to have an excellent power to concentrate on what he is writing. Often, one gets lost in his flow of ideas, a good concentration helps writers to focus on one idea at a time. In order to develop concentration, i suggest learning to peel apple skin in a continuous manner - aka the whole skin should come out as one long piece.
2. Attention to detail - If there is one thing common in all great writers, it has to be their attention to detail. It takes years to get this ability. I suggest you to make a chapati (roti) and ensure that it is a perfect square. You are not allowed to use any external instruments such as rulers in this process.
3. Retention power - Ideas can come anytime. The key is to remember them when you get them to write. Remember what you dreamt last night and write it down the next day, everyday. If you have to, stay awake to capture your dreams although dreams come only when you are asleep.
4. Regularity - You have to write it everyday, a break of mere 2 days and you will find yourself experiencing writer's block. I suggest you to write something everyday, even though it may mean writing the same thing all over again. Your handwriting will be differentiator and if your article/book becomes a hit you will have more than one hand written copies that you can sell.
5. Reading to friends - No matter how good or bad you have written, it is very important that you read that to your friends. They may not like it, go back to your house, or may break your friendship but you must persist. It is only friends feedback that will help you grow. This may even mean that you will have to tie your friends to a chair and read to them, this is indeed very important. Even if you can't do the other four things, you must do this one.
-Mr. Naman.
Feeling quite satisfied by himself that he has mentioned valuable points, Mr. Naman goes to drink some coffee. Somewhere, sometime later a kid will realize the price to stalk someone.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Chapter 19
Jibran was visiting Mr. Naman at his home. He often dropped and together they would chat about some profound topic sharing their their thoughts. Here goes today's dicussion:
Jibran (Ji): How dumb do you think a man can get?
Mr. Naman (Na): What do you mean? Being dumb is not a voluntary action.
Ji: I mean, how much dumb(ness) is allowed to man ?
Na: Aha, that is a good question. Before that, we should define what qualifies as a dumb act.
Ji: Yes indeed. Dictionary defines dumb as an individual who is either slow to learn or who lacks intellectual acuity. But in this context, we are saying that it is the act that defines a person. So a person is dumb if and only if he has done something that is dumb.
Na: I once wore my sweater inside out. Would that qualify as dumb?
Ji: Naman, when would you grow? These discussions, these worldly things, words are not meant for you. You do not fall in this category. So, my question is - what is the lowness of an act that a man is allowed to do?
Na: I once cut my middle finger. It was not painful but there was a small cut. When i tried to put Band-aid on it, i applied the band-aid on my index finger. It went unnoticed for couple of hrs when i realized what i had done. Would you take that as a dumb act?
Ji: There you go again. Naman, stop being a self centered and think keeping others in context. Jibran says that there are two kinds of problems - one that can be solved by applying the question to oneself and other where one has to think beyond and should have a broad perspective. This question falls in the latter category.
Na: I can not solve any mathematical problem such as integration by applying it to my self. So, that means i should have a broad perspective. eh?
Ji: No, that means that you should think beyond and that beyond includes books in this case. Can we please focus on the question at hand?
Na: Jibran Miyan, i think i have an answer.
Ji: I hope it is not another of your examples.
Na: No, not this time. Within each circle of society, something is expected from people forming that society. Some acts are just nor permitted because the circle expects some level of acuity from its participants. A dumb act varies from circle to circle. An extreme dumb act for each circle is the 50% less than the lowest expectation.
Ji: What?
Na: Let me explain you with an example. If a president wears his sweater inside out, it is clearly not acceptable but it would never happen, because when you become president, even the lowest expectation is very high. So, 50% less than the lowest expectation is also very high and thus his dumb acts are limited to such as taking a car to go to a store that is only 5 mins by walking. Now lets take example of a beggar. In his circle, that level of expectation is already very low and thus his dumb acts can be really dumb.
Ji: I see. That makes sense. You know what the good part about your theory is - It even applies to you.
Na: Me? How?
Ji: In your circle of society, the expectation from you is nothing. So your level of dumb acts is limitless. Practically, any act that you do could be classified as a dumb act.
Na: Now, you are taunting me. Remember, you are listening and talking to me, someone out there is reading this, you are all a part of my circle then.
Ji: Ofcourse we are. Its good to be a part of this one that anyone out there.
Jibran (Ji): How dumb do you think a man can get?
Mr. Naman (Na): What do you mean? Being dumb is not a voluntary action.
Ji: I mean, how much dumb(ness) is allowed to man ?
Na: Aha, that is a good question. Before that, we should define what qualifies as a dumb act.
Ji: Yes indeed. Dictionary defines dumb as an individual who is either slow to learn or who lacks intellectual acuity. But in this context, we are saying that it is the act that defines a person. So a person is dumb if and only if he has done something that is dumb.
Na: I once wore my sweater inside out. Would that qualify as dumb?
Ji: Naman, when would you grow? These discussions, these worldly things, words are not meant for you. You do not fall in this category. So, my question is - what is the lowness of an act that a man is allowed to do?
Na: I once cut my middle finger. It was not painful but there was a small cut. When i tried to put Band-aid on it, i applied the band-aid on my index finger. It went unnoticed for couple of hrs when i realized what i had done. Would you take that as a dumb act?
Ji: There you go again. Naman, stop being a self centered and think keeping others in context. Jibran says that there are two kinds of problems - one that can be solved by applying the question to oneself and other where one has to think beyond and should have a broad perspective. This question falls in the latter category.
Na: I can not solve any mathematical problem such as integration by applying it to my self. So, that means i should have a broad perspective. eh?
Ji: No, that means that you should think beyond and that beyond includes books in this case. Can we please focus on the question at hand?
Na: Jibran Miyan, i think i have an answer.
Ji: I hope it is not another of your examples.
Na: No, not this time. Within each circle of society, something is expected from people forming that society. Some acts are just nor permitted because the circle expects some level of acuity from its participants. A dumb act varies from circle to circle. An extreme dumb act for each circle is the 50% less than the lowest expectation.
Ji: What?
Na: Let me explain you with an example. If a president wears his sweater inside out, it is clearly not acceptable but it would never happen, because when you become president, even the lowest expectation is very high. So, 50% less than the lowest expectation is also very high and thus his dumb acts are limited to such as taking a car to go to a store that is only 5 mins by walking. Now lets take example of a beggar. In his circle, that level of expectation is already very low and thus his dumb acts can be really dumb.
Ji: I see. That makes sense. You know what the good part about your theory is - It even applies to you.
Na: Me? How?
Ji: In your circle of society, the expectation from you is nothing. So your level of dumb acts is limitless. Practically, any act that you do could be classified as a dumb act.
Na: Now, you are taunting me. Remember, you are listening and talking to me, someone out there is reading this, you are all a part of my circle then.
Ji: Ofcourse we are. Its good to be a part of this one that anyone out there.
Chapter 18
It was precisely 5 minutes Mr. Naman had left his house to go office. But now he is back at home and changing his clothes to wear Pyjamas. No, if you are thinking that today Mr. Naman is planning to go to his office in his pyjamas, someday i am sure you will be right, but not today.
Since Mr. Naman is back in 5 minutes, exactly after 2 minutes and 30 seconds, he would have decided to turn back for his home. What force can cause a man to change his mind to stay at home in 2 mins 30 seconds. Well, there are many such forces like headaches in stomach, mid-week office-sickness, start-week office sickness, end-week office-sickness and anyday everyday office-sickness. But these forces are nothing when compared to what drove Mr. Naman back home. Its the force known as - idea. It can strike anyone at anytime and anywhere. It compels one to stop doing what one is doing and do something that he is not doing. Mostly that something is think more about the idea and hence this is extremely viral. Fortunately for humans, this force is present in few people but unfortunately it covers up its lack of coverage by inundating some minds. Mr. Naman is such a human primate who suffers from strokes of idea many times a week. Even though it sounds glib but actually they are some of the most beautiful moments of one's life. It is like doing drugs - it sounds bad but ecstasy, aaah! the high feeling is beyond words.
Mr. Naman has to go and meet Jibran(*) now. Jibran is a fourteen year old kid, "He is not a kid" yells Mr. Naman from the text. Point noted. Jibran is a fourteen year old guy who has read almost all kinds of books in this world. His main interest is in the area of philosophy and in this area, not only he has read hundreds of books, he has also written one book which he soon wishes to publish. If you are wondering how or why a fourteen year old has read so many books, there is no obvious answer other than the fact that Jibran was born with a hole in his heart. Due to which he was not allowed to play outside. So when others were playing cricket, Jibran was sitting inside his home reading books. Jibran is one of the most erudite philosophers present today and surely he is the most learned in the whole of Ugar.
Jibran has stopped going to school, rather the opposite happened. The teachers of the school requested Jibran's parents to stop sending him because his knowledge had superseded their knowledge. His physics teacher was furious when she was pestered by his curious question on what would happen if everyone on planet Earth jumped at the same time. His Chemistry teacher, Mr. David, threw him out of class when he brought a boiled egg and asked him to reverse the reaction. When Mr. David that boiling an egg is an irreversible reaction, Jibran innocently asked that if life the most complicated thing ever existed is reversible through reincarnation, why cant you turn an egg back into liquid state. Jibran's Mathematics teacher just gave up because Jibran had learnt college mathematics and used to stare outside the window in his lectures making faces showing no doubt that he was bored.
Jibran and Mr. Naman were quite close friends. I think Mr. Naman was the only one who was able to understand jibran's words in whole of Ugar and Jibran was the only one who thought that Mr. Naman was an intellectual. In general people had no doubt on Jibran's profound knowledge and judgement. It was only when Jibran said openly once that Mr. Naman is an intellectual that they started having doubts on him and said that too much book reading has made him crazy. Jibran ignored them and Mr. Naman was too involved in himself to give a thought to it.
Now, Mr. Naman is walking towards Jibran's home to discuss his idea with him. "What is it" shouts Jibran from his window. Mr. Naman sees him and instead of going into the house, he walks towards Jibran's window to discuss the matter him.
Mr. Naman: I have got a good title for your book.
Jibran: Really, what is it?
Mr. Naman: It is a foolproof - the title is generic and your book will be a definite hit.
Jibran: What is it, Naman? Now i am getting worried.
Mr. Naman: The title is "Book for an intellectual. Do you get the beauty.
Jibran (with a confused face, semi excited, semi disappointed): Get what?
Mr. Naman: Oh Jibran! See, with this title, anyone who reads this book can not say that he did not like it. If he is an intellectual, he would like it. But if some one does not like the book, he cannot say no because then he would be saying that he is not an intellectual. No one likes to call oneself a moron except a few exceptions.
Jibran: But this book is not meant for everyone. It is meant only for few intellectuals.
Mr. Naman: Yes, i know. But with this title, everyone will feel like an intellectual.
Jibram: Sometimes, I think your view of world is too optimistic. Anyways, since you are my friend, i will not discard the title in your face. But ultimately, it would loose to something that makes sense.
Mr. Naman: I see. I will keep it for one of my books in that case. Ciao. I should go to office now.
(*) Note from author: Jibran is a character that i have borrowed from the Pakistani drama - Ankahi (Unkahi). No permission has been sought while borrowing the character. If someone has any objections, please leave a comment here.
Since Mr. Naman is back in 5 minutes, exactly after 2 minutes and 30 seconds, he would have decided to turn back for his home. What force can cause a man to change his mind to stay at home in 2 mins 30 seconds. Well, there are many such forces like headaches in stomach, mid-week office-sickness, start-week office sickness, end-week office-sickness and anyday everyday office-sickness. But these forces are nothing when compared to what drove Mr. Naman back home. Its the force known as - idea. It can strike anyone at anytime and anywhere. It compels one to stop doing what one is doing and do something that he is not doing. Mostly that something is think more about the idea and hence this is extremely viral. Fortunately for humans, this force is present in few people but unfortunately it covers up its lack of coverage by inundating some minds. Mr. Naman is such a human primate who suffers from strokes of idea many times a week. Even though it sounds glib but actually they are some of the most beautiful moments of one's life. It is like doing drugs - it sounds bad but ecstasy, aaah! the high feeling is beyond words.
Mr. Naman has to go and meet Jibran(*) now. Jibran is a fourteen year old kid, "He is not a kid" yells Mr. Naman from the text. Point noted. Jibran is a fourteen year old guy who has read almost all kinds of books in this world. His main interest is in the area of philosophy and in this area, not only he has read hundreds of books, he has also written one book which he soon wishes to publish. If you are wondering how or why a fourteen year old has read so many books, there is no obvious answer other than the fact that Jibran was born with a hole in his heart. Due to which he was not allowed to play outside. So when others were playing cricket, Jibran was sitting inside his home reading books. Jibran is one of the most erudite philosophers present today and surely he is the most learned in the whole of Ugar.
Jibran has stopped going to school, rather the opposite happened. The teachers of the school requested Jibran's parents to stop sending him because his knowledge had superseded their knowledge. His physics teacher was furious when she was pestered by his curious question on what would happen if everyone on planet Earth jumped at the same time. His Chemistry teacher, Mr. David, threw him out of class when he brought a boiled egg and asked him to reverse the reaction. When Mr. David that boiling an egg is an irreversible reaction, Jibran innocently asked that if life the most complicated thing ever existed is reversible through reincarnation, why cant you turn an egg back into liquid state. Jibran's Mathematics teacher just gave up because Jibran had learnt college mathematics and used to stare outside the window in his lectures making faces showing no doubt that he was bored.
Jibran and Mr. Naman were quite close friends. I think Mr. Naman was the only one who was able to understand jibran's words in whole of Ugar and Jibran was the only one who thought that Mr. Naman was an intellectual. In general people had no doubt on Jibran's profound knowledge and judgement. It was only when Jibran said openly once that Mr. Naman is an intellectual that they started having doubts on him and said that too much book reading has made him crazy. Jibran ignored them and Mr. Naman was too involved in himself to give a thought to it.
Now, Mr. Naman is walking towards Jibran's home to discuss his idea with him. "What is it" shouts Jibran from his window. Mr. Naman sees him and instead of going into the house, he walks towards Jibran's window to discuss the matter him.
Mr. Naman: I have got a good title for your book.
Jibran: Really, what is it?
Mr. Naman: It is a foolproof - the title is generic and your book will be a definite hit.
Jibran: What is it, Naman? Now i am getting worried.
Mr. Naman: The title is "Book for an intellectual. Do you get the beauty.
Jibran (with a confused face, semi excited, semi disappointed): Get what?
Mr. Naman: Oh Jibran! See, with this title, anyone who reads this book can not say that he did not like it. If he is an intellectual, he would like it. But if some one does not like the book, he cannot say no because then he would be saying that he is not an intellectual. No one likes to call oneself a moron except a few exceptions.
Jibran: But this book is not meant for everyone. It is meant only for few intellectuals.
Mr. Naman: Yes, i know. But with this title, everyone will feel like an intellectual.
Jibram: Sometimes, I think your view of world is too optimistic. Anyways, since you are my friend, i will not discard the title in your face. But ultimately, it would loose to something that makes sense.
Mr. Naman: I see. I will keep it for one of my books in that case. Ciao. I should go to office now.
(*) Note from author: Jibran is a character that i have borrowed from the Pakistani drama - Ankahi (Unkahi). No permission has been sought while borrowing the character. If someone has any objections, please leave a comment here.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Chapter 17
People who used to visit Mr. Naman or his parents for the first time always showed regret to see that Mr. Naman was at home. They always assumed that he was unemployed and was unable to find any kind of work. I think by seeing Mr. Naman at home everyday on a weekday, anyone could assume this but what made it special was that the confidence of these strangers on their assumption. They were willing to even place bets of amount equal to their one month salary claiming that Mr. Naman was indeed a good for nothing person. It is not clear what gave them such confidence, was it Mr. Naman or was it just vibes that he emitted.
But it was not always like that. Mr. Naman's boss, the editor had made it mandatory initially for Mr. Naman to sit on an office desk and write his articles from there. It was only when people sitting close to Mr. Naman's office desk said that they will resign unless Mr. Naman leaves that desk or they are given a desk in some other room. What force could have prompted a normal middle class security loving person to take such a drastic step, offering to sacrifice his career. The editor was shocked to hear such an ultimatum and decided to allow Mr. Naman to work from home, as desired by him in the first place. Mr. Naman although was surprised by the editor's change of heart but took the news in a positive manner. He reached home and told his mother
"Ma, From tomorrow, i do not have to go to office. The editor allowed me to work from home."
"But why? He refused initially na?"
"Yeah, he did. But some of my colleagues threatened to resign if he didnt do that"
"Oh God, Why would your colleagues take such extreme steps, were you troubling them?"
"No ma, I think the correct term here is office presence."
"oho, now what is this office presence?".
"It seems like you do not learn from all those movies and tv series that you watch. Haven't you heard off the term screen presence? Screen presence - when an actor dominates the screen just because he is in the camera frame, often good actors have this ability. I have the same ability when it comes to office. Not everyone is able to handle it. In movies, it often makes the other actors sharing the screen jealous. I think the same thing happened here as well. Ofcourse, you can not blame me for being such an exceedingly good employee".
Mr. Naman's mother eventually stopped interrogating her son and went to pray to thank god that atleast her son still had a job. But, what was the thing that Mr. Naman did or rather not did that within one month of his joining, his colleagues acted as they did.
Had it been a Akbar birbal story, i would paint the scenario in Birbal like manner where Mr. Naman asked his colleagues deliberately to act so, giving them the confidence that they will not be fired. If Mr. Naman gives an ultimatum that he would resign if he was not allowed to work from home, then surely he would be fired. But if his colleagues did that, there is a possibility that he can still keep his job and get what he wanted. But, the sad part is that it is not an Akbar Birbal story. This is about Mr. Naman. And it has everything to do with Mr. Naman.
While Mr. Naman was coerced to work from office, he was given a desk, and fortunately for him, it was next to a window. It was a third floor office with glass window facing to the beautiful hills of Ugar. The control of the window was completely in the hands of the person who sat next to it, yes in hands of our very own Mr. Naman and his first act in his new desk was something that had never been done since the window was constructed - He opened the window. Gush of wind blew in, fresh, cool air with bright sunlight came into the office and it blew all the unclipepd papers lying on all the desks in that room. Everyone was quite annoyed by the air except for one person and who was looking at his new colleagues with a smiling face. It was not a smile of mockery but a genuine innocent smile of receiving the wind at an altitude of 40 feet above ground. Not bothered by the commotion of his colleagues who were rushing to pick papers, he raised both of his hands as if he was flying. It was the first time that Mr. Naman was standing in front of a window of a third storey building with such a beautiful weather.
With that gesture everyone knew that the window will not be closed until Mr. Naman was there. But they accepted it as they also felt good with fresh air coming in. But what annoyed them the most in the coming days was Mr. Naman's way of working. Mr. Naman used to stare out of the window for most of the time during the day. As if his article was hidden behind those far away hills. Wind was his secret messenger, a spy that would steal one word, one line or one para sometimes from the hill and would bring it to Mr. Naman. He sat holding a pencil, a pad in other hand and just stared outside the window occasionally scribing something on his pad. All others around him were very puzzled by his modus operandi. But it was not limited to this only. One common habit Mr. Naman had while writing his article was that he would smile several times without any reason. He smiled whenever he felt happy within. Although Mr. Naman didn't like the idea of working from a desk, but still he found immense happiness staring out the window. The window was his escape from the usual office life. He used to laugh whenever a strong gush of wind hit his face. He would smile and nod, as if the wind had whispered something interesting in his ears. Then he would scribe something on his pad. Everyone around were immensely puzzled by his behavior. At first they thought that he was crazy but when they read what he had scribbled, they were shocked. His article was beautiful creative.
Mr. Naman's colleagues used to ask him about his habit of staring outside the window but Mr. Naman declined to reveal the secret outside the window. This annoyed them much. But what really made them cross the white line against a white background were Mr. Naman's innocent offers. Mr. Naman thought that others should also see the beauty around them, he would often call them and encourage to see outside the window, sometimes even persisting strongly to ensure that spend atleast half an hour everyday with nature outside. In their busy office lives, a luxury of half hr breaks was not permitted, especially if one is not trained to do so. Believe me, it requires great practice to do nothing and Mr. Naman was an expert in this art. Sometimes he would just sit with his legs hanging outside the window, hands folded across his chest and just look outside the window while sitting in his chair. I think i forgot to mention but he was also wearing kurta-paijams. He would just stare outside, not even writing anything, just stare and smile, smile and stare. He would urge others to join but for others this was a "un-official" thing.
What puzzled them most was that their productivity was equal to Mr. Naman's productivity. Clearly, they believed that Mr. Naman's productivity was not very high, it meant that their productivity was also not that great. They blamed Mr. Naman for it, as they thought that he was acting as a distraction to them. And so they complained to resign or change rooms or change Mr. Naman's desk. Little they realized that in that one month, their productivity had actually increased. Little the realized that in that one month, they were sometimes happy while working. Little they realized that by closing window, they were closing their thoughts as well.
Thus, it was a window seat that got Mr. Naman a free ride to work from home. There are some days when he decides to sit at his desk, days when he is reminded of that third floor window air, days when the clever wind decides to sneak out more messages from that hill. On those days, his colleagues too, knowing that it is just going to be one day in a month, enjoy the wind and do not work. Now, they look forward for Mr. Naman to work from office, it is on those days that they relax.
But it was not always like that. Mr. Naman's boss, the editor had made it mandatory initially for Mr. Naman to sit on an office desk and write his articles from there. It was only when people sitting close to Mr. Naman's office desk said that they will resign unless Mr. Naman leaves that desk or they are given a desk in some other room. What force could have prompted a normal middle class security loving person to take such a drastic step, offering to sacrifice his career. The editor was shocked to hear such an ultimatum and decided to allow Mr. Naman to work from home, as desired by him in the first place. Mr. Naman although was surprised by the editor's change of heart but took the news in a positive manner. He reached home and told his mother
"Ma, From tomorrow, i do not have to go to office. The editor allowed me to work from home."
"But why? He refused initially na?"
"Yeah, he did. But some of my colleagues threatened to resign if he didnt do that"
"Oh God, Why would your colleagues take such extreme steps, were you troubling them?"
"No ma, I think the correct term here is office presence."
"oho, now what is this office presence?".
"It seems like you do not learn from all those movies and tv series that you watch. Haven't you heard off the term screen presence? Screen presence - when an actor dominates the screen just because he is in the camera frame, often good actors have this ability. I have the same ability when it comes to office. Not everyone is able to handle it. In movies, it often makes the other actors sharing the screen jealous. I think the same thing happened here as well. Ofcourse, you can not blame me for being such an exceedingly good employee".
Mr. Naman's mother eventually stopped interrogating her son and went to pray to thank god that atleast her son still had a job. But, what was the thing that Mr. Naman did or rather not did that within one month of his joining, his colleagues acted as they did.
Had it been a Akbar birbal story, i would paint the scenario in Birbal like manner where Mr. Naman asked his colleagues deliberately to act so, giving them the confidence that they will not be fired. If Mr. Naman gives an ultimatum that he would resign if he was not allowed to work from home, then surely he would be fired. But if his colleagues did that, there is a possibility that he can still keep his job and get what he wanted. But, the sad part is that it is not an Akbar Birbal story. This is about Mr. Naman. And it has everything to do with Mr. Naman.
While Mr. Naman was coerced to work from office, he was given a desk, and fortunately for him, it was next to a window. It was a third floor office with glass window facing to the beautiful hills of Ugar. The control of the window was completely in the hands of the person who sat next to it, yes in hands of our very own Mr. Naman and his first act in his new desk was something that had never been done since the window was constructed - He opened the window. Gush of wind blew in, fresh, cool air with bright sunlight came into the office and it blew all the unclipepd papers lying on all the desks in that room. Everyone was quite annoyed by the air except for one person and who was looking at his new colleagues with a smiling face. It was not a smile of mockery but a genuine innocent smile of receiving the wind at an altitude of 40 feet above ground. Not bothered by the commotion of his colleagues who were rushing to pick papers, he raised both of his hands as if he was flying. It was the first time that Mr. Naman was standing in front of a window of a third storey building with such a beautiful weather.
With that gesture everyone knew that the window will not be closed until Mr. Naman was there. But they accepted it as they also felt good with fresh air coming in. But what annoyed them the most in the coming days was Mr. Naman's way of working. Mr. Naman used to stare out of the window for most of the time during the day. As if his article was hidden behind those far away hills. Wind was his secret messenger, a spy that would steal one word, one line or one para sometimes from the hill and would bring it to Mr. Naman. He sat holding a pencil, a pad in other hand and just stared outside the window occasionally scribing something on his pad. All others around him were very puzzled by his modus operandi. But it was not limited to this only. One common habit Mr. Naman had while writing his article was that he would smile several times without any reason. He smiled whenever he felt happy within. Although Mr. Naman didn't like the idea of working from a desk, but still he found immense happiness staring out the window. The window was his escape from the usual office life. He used to laugh whenever a strong gush of wind hit his face. He would smile and nod, as if the wind had whispered something interesting in his ears. Then he would scribe something on his pad. Everyone around were immensely puzzled by his behavior. At first they thought that he was crazy but when they read what he had scribbled, they were shocked. His article was beautiful creative.
Mr. Naman's colleagues used to ask him about his habit of staring outside the window but Mr. Naman declined to reveal the secret outside the window. This annoyed them much. But what really made them cross the white line against a white background were Mr. Naman's innocent offers. Mr. Naman thought that others should also see the beauty around them, he would often call them and encourage to see outside the window, sometimes even persisting strongly to ensure that spend atleast half an hour everyday with nature outside. In their busy office lives, a luxury of half hr breaks was not permitted, especially if one is not trained to do so. Believe me, it requires great practice to do nothing and Mr. Naman was an expert in this art. Sometimes he would just sit with his legs hanging outside the window, hands folded across his chest and just look outside the window while sitting in his chair. I think i forgot to mention but he was also wearing kurta-paijams. He would just stare outside, not even writing anything, just stare and smile, smile and stare. He would urge others to join but for others this was a "un-official" thing.
What puzzled them most was that their productivity was equal to Mr. Naman's productivity. Clearly, they believed that Mr. Naman's productivity was not very high, it meant that their productivity was also not that great. They blamed Mr. Naman for it, as they thought that he was acting as a distraction to them. And so they complained to resign or change rooms or change Mr. Naman's desk. Little they realized that in that one month, their productivity had actually increased. Little the realized that in that one month, they were sometimes happy while working. Little they realized that by closing window, they were closing their thoughts as well.
Thus, it was a window seat that got Mr. Naman a free ride to work from home. There are some days when he decides to sit at his desk, days when he is reminded of that third floor window air, days when the clever wind decides to sneak out more messages from that hill. On those days, his colleagues too, knowing that it is just going to be one day in a month, enjoy the wind and do not work. Now, they look forward for Mr. Naman to work from office, it is on those days that they relax.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Chapter 16
One night, Mr. Naman was busy working on his article or something. His parents called him for dinner but he said that he was busy and will eat later. His parents finished their dinner and then his mother asked him to eat dinner later and clean up the table after it. Little did she know what horror was to greet her when she would woke up next morning.
Mr. Naman, after sometime, finished his work, ate his dinner and started the "cleaning process". One of the utensils used to serve rice was looking too empty. Since most of the rice had been consumed, only a small amount was left, Mr. Naman did not like the idea of storing such small amount of rice in such a big container. So he decided to empty the contents in a small bowl. But it was not that simple. Rice quantity was more than that could fit in one small bowl. And surely using two small bowls was against some fictiously made principles of Mr. Naman. So he decided to look for another bowl with size bigger than the small bowl but smaller than the current bowl. Unfortunately, he couldn'd find any bowl that met the above requirements.
But Mr. Naman is the sort of the person who gets to solutions no matter what happens. Bowl sizes are trivial problem to him. He started scanning all kitchen shelves to find a suitable utensil. He saw a small teapot whose dimensions told Mr. Naman that it would be enough to store the remaining rice. Then, there was nothing left to ponder. Ten minutes later, he was sleeping safely in bed having stored the rice in a small teapot.
There are somedays when even Sun does not want to come. Yes, the Sun was skeptical to come on the day when Jesus was crucified or when MahaBharath begun or when it was Mr. Naman's first day at office. Today also, our Sun is delaying its arrival, hoping for a miracle that can save him the embarassment of what is about to happen. Sun, who gets all its information from the Moon, was very well aware of what had transpired in the night and for this very same reason knew what was about to happen. Many of you dont know but this is how fortune tellers work. Every morning they capture the sun's image on their crystal balls and that is enough for them. Nothing can escape the Sun. The only trick that those fortune tellers know is how to read the Sun which by the way is no trivial task. But with little persistence, it is easy to master as our Sun is not very good in hiding its emotions.
Coming back to the point, the Sun saw no option in front of him and with some delay was back in action. Mr. Naman's mother woke up as usual, a little late but she had a good sleep. She was happy on seeing that the table was clean. It was customary for people in Ugar to drink tea in morning. She made her way to prepare tea. Generally pouring tea into teapot is the last step in the tea making process but what made the calamity come sooner was that milk is stored in refrigerator and thats the place where that teapot was kept. She opened the fridge and was puzzled to see the teapot lying there. Curiosity is not a good virtue everywhere. She opened the teapot and was shocked to see rice in there. "Hey Ram!" (Oh God!) screamed, a very loud scream it was, loud to get her husband out of the bed without tea (a rare incident indeed!), even the Sun who had prepared himself for such a case flinched. All the birds nearby Mr. Naman's house flew in directions radially opposite to the house, neighbors also felt it. But it was not enough to disturb Mr. Naman's sleep. Mr. Naman's mother could have fainted but over the years she had experienced several such accidents. She was a much stronger woman now.
What is this? Why would anyone do it? Are there aliens on Earth? Was there a burglary yesterday night? were some of the thoughts that came to her mind first but then after a minute she remembered saying "Naman, clean up the table after you eat.". She had said this to him and then "Nooooooo". The realization was a big blow but whatever happens, happens for a good.
Mr. Naman woke up after a couple of hours and those two hours were literally like days for his mother. She was sitting like a solid rock in living room when he entered with the usual relaxed innocent look. His mother was trying her level best to maintain a calm face even though internally she was searching her soul for answers which she did not have. She had to ask him. So she started -
Mother(M) : How was the dinner last night?
Mr Naman (N): It was good.
M: And did you have a good sleep?
N: Good. You do not look ok, whats the matter?
M: I am fine. Why?
N: Nothing. Just your face looks pale.
M: Its nothing. Acha, were you the one who kept rice in the teapot?
N: Yes, whats the matter? We do have other teapots to pour tea into?
M: Yes, we DO have more teapots. But why on Earth did you put rice in a teapot?
N: I looked for other containers. Some were too small, others were too big. Teapot was perfect. Whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot?
M: You ask whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot? "Hey Ram" "Save me lord". Everything is wrong in putting rice in a teapot.
N: Why?
M: Because it is a teapot. It is meant to serve tea. Not rice.
(She could not control her anger this time. Her voice was becoming louder with each line and it was at the top now. Mr. Naman's father had gone for his daily walk intentionally to forget about the incident and precisely to avoid Naman's answer)
(The Sun also pulled Earth a little closer to itself to hear clearly what Mr. Naman was about to say. Human race had always fascinated him and it is in times like these when he always discovers something new about our race. Owing to Sun's pull, everyone was feeling the heat except Mr. Naman ofcourse).
N: Shhhhhhhh. Don't shout Ma. Speak slowly. The teaport will hear you. You know that the teapot is used to serve tea. I know that the teapot is used to serve tea. But the teapot doesnot know that its purpose is to serve tea. Until, the teapot complains, we can use it in a way that we find is appropriate.
There was silence everywhere. Mr. Naman had won! The Sun wiped sweat from his brow and was satisfied.
Mr. Naman, after sometime, finished his work, ate his dinner and started the "cleaning process". One of the utensils used to serve rice was looking too empty. Since most of the rice had been consumed, only a small amount was left, Mr. Naman did not like the idea of storing such small amount of rice in such a big container. So he decided to empty the contents in a small bowl. But it was not that simple. Rice quantity was more than that could fit in one small bowl. And surely using two small bowls was against some fictiously made principles of Mr. Naman. So he decided to look for another bowl with size bigger than the small bowl but smaller than the current bowl. Unfortunately, he couldn'd find any bowl that met the above requirements.
But Mr. Naman is the sort of the person who gets to solutions no matter what happens. Bowl sizes are trivial problem to him. He started scanning all kitchen shelves to find a suitable utensil. He saw a small teapot whose dimensions told Mr. Naman that it would be enough to store the remaining rice. Then, there was nothing left to ponder. Ten minutes later, he was sleeping safely in bed having stored the rice in a small teapot.
There are somedays when even Sun does not want to come. Yes, the Sun was skeptical to come on the day when Jesus was crucified or when MahaBharath begun or when it was Mr. Naman's first day at office. Today also, our Sun is delaying its arrival, hoping for a miracle that can save him the embarassment of what is about to happen. Sun, who gets all its information from the Moon, was very well aware of what had transpired in the night and for this very same reason knew what was about to happen. Many of you dont know but this is how fortune tellers work. Every morning they capture the sun's image on their crystal balls and that is enough for them. Nothing can escape the Sun. The only trick that those fortune tellers know is how to read the Sun which by the way is no trivial task. But with little persistence, it is easy to master as our Sun is not very good in hiding its emotions.
Coming back to the point, the Sun saw no option in front of him and with some delay was back in action. Mr. Naman's mother woke up as usual, a little late but she had a good sleep. She was happy on seeing that the table was clean. It was customary for people in Ugar to drink tea in morning. She made her way to prepare tea. Generally pouring tea into teapot is the last step in the tea making process but what made the calamity come sooner was that milk is stored in refrigerator and thats the place where that teapot was kept. She opened the fridge and was puzzled to see the teapot lying there. Curiosity is not a good virtue everywhere. She opened the teapot and was shocked to see rice in there. "Hey Ram!" (Oh God!) screamed, a very loud scream it was, loud to get her husband out of the bed without tea (a rare incident indeed!), even the Sun who had prepared himself for such a case flinched. All the birds nearby Mr. Naman's house flew in directions radially opposite to the house, neighbors also felt it. But it was not enough to disturb Mr. Naman's sleep. Mr. Naman's mother could have fainted but over the years she had experienced several such accidents. She was a much stronger woman now.
What is this? Why would anyone do it? Are there aliens on Earth? Was there a burglary yesterday night? were some of the thoughts that came to her mind first but then after a minute she remembered saying "Naman, clean up the table after you eat.". She had said this to him and then "Nooooooo". The realization was a big blow but whatever happens, happens for a good.
Mr. Naman woke up after a couple of hours and those two hours were literally like days for his mother. She was sitting like a solid rock in living room when he entered with the usual relaxed innocent look. His mother was trying her level best to maintain a calm face even though internally she was searching her soul for answers which she did not have. She had to ask him. So she started -
Mother(M) : How was the dinner last night?
Mr Naman (N): It was good.
M: And did you have a good sleep?
N: Good. You do not look ok, whats the matter?
M: I am fine. Why?
N: Nothing. Just your face looks pale.
M: Its nothing. Acha, were you the one who kept rice in the teapot?
N: Yes, whats the matter? We do have other teapots to pour tea into?
M: Yes, we DO have more teapots. But why on Earth did you put rice in a teapot?
N: I looked for other containers. Some were too small, others were too big. Teapot was perfect. Whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot?
M: You ask whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot? "Hey Ram" "Save me lord". Everything is wrong in putting rice in a teapot.
N: Why?
M: Because it is a teapot. It is meant to serve tea. Not rice.
(She could not control her anger this time. Her voice was becoming louder with each line and it was at the top now. Mr. Naman's father had gone for his daily walk intentionally to forget about the incident and precisely to avoid Naman's answer)
(The Sun also pulled Earth a little closer to itself to hear clearly what Mr. Naman was about to say. Human race had always fascinated him and it is in times like these when he always discovers something new about our race. Owing to Sun's pull, everyone was feeling the heat except Mr. Naman ofcourse).
N: Shhhhhhhh. Don't shout Ma. Speak slowly. The teaport will hear you. You know that the teapot is used to serve tea. I know that the teapot is used to serve tea. But the teapot doesnot know that its purpose is to serve tea. Until, the teapot complains, we can use it in a way that we find is appropriate.
There was silence everywhere. Mr. Naman had won! The Sun wiped sweat from his brow and was satisfied.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Chapter 15
As discussed briefly in the last Chapter, Mr. Naman is writing a book. A book about people and their lives in Ugar. The idea came to Mr. Naman when he was writing an article in the local newspaper about how friendship developed between a paan waalah (Betel Leaf seller) and one of his regular customer who is also dying of cancer. The article was based on a true story, a story narrated to Mr. Naman by the Betel leaf seller himself. The Betel leaf was the only luxury permitted to that cancer patient because of his stomach condition. The article described how the patient related that paan with his life's dreams and what he would do had he lived longer etc. It was quite a touching story and Mr. Naman had done a good job writing it as well. Many letters were sent to the Paan walah and to the patient by local newspaper readers.
Mr. Naman realized that there would be many such stories going in Ugar and people in Ugar. It was a well known fact that Ugar was one of the most peaceful towns in the entire world. People were always smiling, strangers bowed when they crossed. People knew their vegetable sellers by their names and knew about their family as well. Vegetable sellers were also well aware of their customer's requirements. There was competition between sellers but it was healthy. They often met on holidays and discussed their stories with each other. There were no trade secrets in Ugar, because there was only one ubiquitous fact - Love and be kind. This was the principle followed by doctors, by engineers and most importantly by lawyers as well.
Mr. Naman liked the idea to document this spirit of Ugar. He didn't had to invent characters as he would take real people and write about real stories. Things that he he had observed while growing up, Stories that he had heard from his grand parents, stories that are present in the air, stories contained in the hills of Ugar, stories blowing in wind, stories flowing in rivers, stories discussed between ladies in their tea parties, there was so much going on in this small town. So many angles, so many dimensions, the scale was quite big. There will not be any plot, just stories, one after another, some building on others, some just flying independently. Mr. Naman had decided that he will not invent stories, rather it will be re-tellings or first hand telling of original events. You might have heard of the saying that truth is stranger than fiction, but Mr. Naman believes that not only truth is stranger, it is more satirical, more ironical and ofcourse more confusing that fiction which makes it interesting as well.
Among the people in Ugar about whom he had chosen to write about, he was also one of them. Surely Mr. Naman feels that he is an interesting character in Ugar. But there was one catch Mr. Naman had not thought before. Since he is writing about Ugar and he himself is living in Ugar, he will also be there as one of many in his stories. And since Mr. Naman is going to write about true events only, Mr. Naman in the story will also be writing about Ugar and his writings also need to be covered as they are fascninating according to Mr. Naman. And within those writings there will again be another Mr. Naman living in Ugar and writing about Ugar who would be doing the same. It is like Hand drawing a hand or that painting of Escher where water always flows down. It is like showing mirror to mirror and counting reflections. Such would be the recursion, each one writing about oneself in the story.
But there are more compelling questions as well. Is it possible that Mr. Naman in story writes something different than Mr. Naman? What if there is a disagreement between the Mr. Naman in story and Mr. Naman. Who shall decide? Who wins? Mr. Naman believes that he is smarter than the Mr. Naman in his story as story howsoever real it may be is bounded by the finite number of permutations of words. But reality is vast than that. Mr. Naman in story however responds that you can produce Shakespeare even in million years if you give typewriters to thousand monkeys. So permutations may be finite but its interpretation are infinite since interpretations are human. And thus the following conversation happens within Mr. Naman:
Mr. Naman: How do you know? You are just a character in my story?
Mr. Naman in story: How do you know that i am just a character? It is your interpretation of what you write makes you believe that i am a character. Show it to someone else and i will be as real as you could ever be.
Mr. Naman: Really? Is my writing that good that you appear to be real?
Mr. Naman in story: Do not flatter yourself. Your writing is good because i am such an interesting person. It is I that make you and not the other way around.
Mr. Naman: Wait a minute! If you as a person is so interesting and since you are a representation of me, this means that i am an interesting person.
Mr. Naman in story: You can say that. Or since you also believe that i am just a character, you can also say that i am not interesting and hence you are also not interesting.
Mr. Naman: Hang on! My writing is criticizing me. The hallmark of a great human is to laugh at himself. Analogically, the hallmark of a great writer is to criticize himself. I think thats what they mean by criticizing oneself.
Mr. Naman realized that there would be many such stories going in Ugar and people in Ugar. It was a well known fact that Ugar was one of the most peaceful towns in the entire world. People were always smiling, strangers bowed when they crossed. People knew their vegetable sellers by their names and knew about their family as well. Vegetable sellers were also well aware of their customer's requirements. There was competition between sellers but it was healthy. They often met on holidays and discussed their stories with each other. There were no trade secrets in Ugar, because there was only one ubiquitous fact - Love and be kind. This was the principle followed by doctors, by engineers and most importantly by lawyers as well.
Mr. Naman liked the idea to document this spirit of Ugar. He didn't had to invent characters as he would take real people and write about real stories. Things that he he had observed while growing up, Stories that he had heard from his grand parents, stories that are present in the air, stories contained in the hills of Ugar, stories blowing in wind, stories flowing in rivers, stories discussed between ladies in their tea parties, there was so much going on in this small town. So many angles, so many dimensions, the scale was quite big. There will not be any plot, just stories, one after another, some building on others, some just flying independently. Mr. Naman had decided that he will not invent stories, rather it will be re-tellings or first hand telling of original events. You might have heard of the saying that truth is stranger than fiction, but Mr. Naman believes that not only truth is stranger, it is more satirical, more ironical and ofcourse more confusing that fiction which makes it interesting as well.
Among the people in Ugar about whom he had chosen to write about, he was also one of them. Surely Mr. Naman feels that he is an interesting character in Ugar. But there was one catch Mr. Naman had not thought before. Since he is writing about Ugar and he himself is living in Ugar, he will also be there as one of many in his stories. And since Mr. Naman is going to write about true events only, Mr. Naman in the story will also be writing about Ugar and his writings also need to be covered as they are fascninating according to Mr. Naman. And within those writings there will again be another Mr. Naman living in Ugar and writing about Ugar who would be doing the same. It is like Hand drawing a hand or that painting of Escher where water always flows down. It is like showing mirror to mirror and counting reflections. Such would be the recursion, each one writing about oneself in the story.
But there are more compelling questions as well. Is it possible that Mr. Naman in story writes something different than Mr. Naman? What if there is a disagreement between the Mr. Naman in story and Mr. Naman. Who shall decide? Who wins? Mr. Naman believes that he is smarter than the Mr. Naman in his story as story howsoever real it may be is bounded by the finite number of permutations of words. But reality is vast than that. Mr. Naman in story however responds that you can produce Shakespeare even in million years if you give typewriters to thousand monkeys. So permutations may be finite but its interpretation are infinite since interpretations are human. And thus the following conversation happens within Mr. Naman:
Mr. Naman: How do you know? You are just a character in my story?
Mr. Naman in story: How do you know that i am just a character? It is your interpretation of what you write makes you believe that i am a character. Show it to someone else and i will be as real as you could ever be.
Mr. Naman: Really? Is my writing that good that you appear to be real?
Mr. Naman in story: Do not flatter yourself. Your writing is good because i am such an interesting person. It is I that make you and not the other way around.
Mr. Naman: Wait a minute! If you as a person is so interesting and since you are a representation of me, this means that i am an interesting person.
Mr. Naman in story: You can say that. Or since you also believe that i am just a character, you can also say that i am not interesting and hence you are also not interesting.
Mr. Naman: Hang on! My writing is criticizing me. The hallmark of a great human is to laugh at himself. Analogically, the hallmark of a great writer is to criticize himself. I think thats what they mean by criticizing oneself.
Chapter 14
They say that the only thing constant in this world is change. Likewise, the only thing for which Mr. Naman is regular is being not regular in anything. What plans! What plans he makes inside his cocunut like head. His ideas are like pure coconut water - fresh, pure and sweet - but like the water they stay inside his head. And with time the water dries up in coconut. But this is where Mr. Naman differs. His is a brand of regenerative plan machine - plans are formed, kept for some time and then forgotten or replaced by another plan and the cycle continues.
Mr. Naman has been planning to write a book. A book about everyday life of people in Ugar. "I will write something everyday for my book" said Mr. Naman one fine day. The exact time at which Mr. Naman's mind produced this notion was recorded as 8:24pm on that day. It took less than one second for other parts of brain to pass this notion into law and it was put into practice effective immediately. Usually Mr. Naman's minds is quite slow and it likes to take longer intervals to come to a resolution but on matters like these, the decision is unanimous and quick.
Mr. Naman is aware of his brain's quick response to such matters and he had a good debate within himself one day. On one side was the fact that decisions made in haste are mostly wrong and sooner or later they are bound to fail. But on another end was the Malcolm Gladwell's Blink theory saying that no matter how complex the question is, the decision is always made in a blink. Mr. Naman had tried to argue from both sides. The debate is put on hold for the moment and is queued at the back of on-hold debated within Mr. Naman.
Coming back to the current Mr. Naman's resolution, the bill was passed on to the Writing minister to produce something for today. Since it was already 8:28 pm, the Writing minister complained that there is so less time left in the day today to embark the process. So an ordinance was issued that such a task will start from tomorrow. First few days went smooth, then again Mr. Naman's brain's Writing minister started to complain. One can not put a timeline on art and writing is a form of art. Since mediocrity is not acceptable by any standards and it takes time to publish quality work, putting a timeline is waste. But the Discipline minister argued that without a time check, there is no guarantee, the project can go on indefinitely. To which the Writing minister replied that i can publish a whole book within one week but will the Discipline minister be willing to read it. The Discipline minister clearly declined such an offer. So this debate was also queued up in Mr. Naman's list of on-Hold debate queue. In the mean time, the Writing minister was given a free pass (or you can also say bailout ) to write when he feels like.
There were many such other attempts by Mr. Naman to be regular. Simple ones like "I will get up early and watch sunrise everyday", "I will take bath before eating breakfast everyday" and more ambitious ones like "I will finish my newspaper article two days in advance" or like "I will learn to play Sitar basics within one year". Each one of them failed. Some disappointingly (within a week) and others very disappointingly (withing two or three days). There was also one to clear all the pending debates in On-Hold queue but this itself sparked a debate whether to pass such resolution or not and this was put on the queue owing to its larger time needs.
Mr. Naman has been planning to write a book. A book about everyday life of people in Ugar. "I will write something everyday for my book" said Mr. Naman one fine day. The exact time at which Mr. Naman's mind produced this notion was recorded as 8:24pm on that day. It took less than one second for other parts of brain to pass this notion into law and it was put into practice effective immediately. Usually Mr. Naman's minds is quite slow and it likes to take longer intervals to come to a resolution but on matters like these, the decision is unanimous and quick.
Mr. Naman is aware of his brain's quick response to such matters and he had a good debate within himself one day. On one side was the fact that decisions made in haste are mostly wrong and sooner or later they are bound to fail. But on another end was the Malcolm Gladwell's Blink theory saying that no matter how complex the question is, the decision is always made in a blink. Mr. Naman had tried to argue from both sides. The debate is put on hold for the moment and is queued at the back of on-hold debated within Mr. Naman.
Coming back to the current Mr. Naman's resolution, the bill was passed on to the Writing minister to produce something for today. Since it was already 8:28 pm, the Writing minister complained that there is so less time left in the day today to embark the process. So an ordinance was issued that such a task will start from tomorrow. First few days went smooth, then again Mr. Naman's brain's Writing minister started to complain. One can not put a timeline on art and writing is a form of art. Since mediocrity is not acceptable by any standards and it takes time to publish quality work, putting a timeline is waste. But the Discipline minister argued that without a time check, there is no guarantee, the project can go on indefinitely. To which the Writing minister replied that i can publish a whole book within one week but will the Discipline minister be willing to read it. The Discipline minister clearly declined such an offer. So this debate was also queued up in Mr. Naman's list of on-Hold debate queue. In the mean time, the Writing minister was given a free pass (or you can also say bailout ) to write when he feels like.
There were many such other attempts by Mr. Naman to be regular. Simple ones like "I will get up early and watch sunrise everyday", "I will take bath before eating breakfast everyday" and more ambitious ones like "I will finish my newspaper article two days in advance" or like "I will learn to play Sitar basics within one year". Each one of them failed. Some disappointingly (within a week) and others very disappointingly (withing two or three days). There was also one to clear all the pending debates in On-Hold queue but this itself sparked a debate whether to pass such resolution or not and this was put on the queue owing to its larger time needs.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Chapter 13
It was a bright and sunny day in Ugar. A day when the whole town had taken a day off. People were sitting in front of their houses, their shops, in front of everything where they used to sit. People who sat on sofas were sitting on ground in front of those sofas. Barbers knelt on the ground cutting hair of people who were sitting on ground. The home chefs who used to stand in kitchens making food were now standing in the garden outside their kitchens. Who was cooking food? No one. No one needed food as the air was so healthy. It was for days like this that people have worked hard to grow grasses in their lawns. 10 ft by 10 feet grass lawns had 4 feet by 4 feet mats covering with each family member occupying 2 feet by 2 feet real estate. There sat Mr. Naman as well. But what can be called as his uncompromising nature or can also be called as his generosity, he relinquished his share of the real estate and chose to lie down on bare grass.
His body was used to lying on the green grass. The green grass had accepted her fate by now. She was now used to carry the weight of this man. She had tried to resist earlier. When Mr. Naman had sat on her the first time, she tried to pinch him with her long shiny blades. But Mr. Naman had too much on his mind to give attention to his body. So all her attempts went unnoticed. Furious, she spent the next few days honing her blades growing them and making them sharper but her war efforts were cut short by the gardener (Naman's beloved own Ramu kaka - every story should have a character with name as Ramu Kaka). The grass became more furious. This time, she asked help from her friends - the small insects, centipedes, millipedes, the grass hoppers, small ants both black and red and even some snakes. " From time memorial i have given you shelter, i have saved you from sun's direct light, i have shared my water with you, i have feeded you with my leaves" said the grass to her friends, "But now i need you to fight me with me, help me make this man go and lie on his bed inside his home"
We have all read the story of Gulliver's travels. This epic battle could have been called Naman's travel to the garden. But the comic connotation would ruin the seriousness of the issue. We have all read how one man has sometimes fought against an army. How the spirit on one one man has challenged an entire rule or how one man has single handedly defended his priniciple when all around him had given up. But Mr. Naman is not that man and more importantly Mr. Naman is not that kind of man.
There were many rounds of debates on seeing the grass's preparation for war among the plant life surrounding the grass lawn. Out of the four sides of the grass lawn, one side was kept open for people to enter the lawn. Plants of different varieties were planted on other three sides to give aesthetic beauty to the garden. There were plants that bore flowers, plants which gave beauty by just their leaves and then there were some cactus. Why cactus? Many have argued but to appreciate good you have to appreciate bad. There were debates between these three sides regarding the grass's declaration of war. Who is the oppressed here and who is the oppressor ? This was the main question. There were some who sided with Mr. Naman saying that it was his right to sit on grass as he had planted her in first place. Cactus were the ones who were the most vociferous in defense of Mr. Naman. But their voice was shunned down as they had no answer to the rebuttal -"You don't understand it! How can you understand the pain when no one has ever sat on you." The grass said to cactus - "You are lucky in this regard". This aggravated the cactus very much. "Lucky? Me? Madam, you have no idea. The thorns that you see outside, they have only one end that you see there. The other end is inside me and it is as sharp as the other".
The three sides were split up equally. One side supporting the grass, one opposing it and the third undecided. It was a perfect analogy of political debate. Then came the weekend and Mr. Naman's day to lie on grass. The garden had suddenly changed to a stadium with lawn as the center and three sides as spectator stands. The players were there in the middle and do not forget, it was a bright and shiny day. First the black ants were sent to irritate Mr. Naman by crawling on him. But Mr. Naman liked the tingling effect caused by them and thus grass's first weapon had turned into pleasure. Next grass asked the millipedes and centipedes to crawl under his clothes. Like soldiers in war whose courage drains out by looking at the enemy, our peaceful organisms - millipedes and centipedes refused to fight and remained in their burrows. Furious, the grass commander ordered grasshoppers to jump on him and distract Mr. Naman. The grasshoppers obeyed but you can only distract someone who is attracted towards something. Mr. Naman's attention keeps shuffling from one thought to another ten times a second. Grasshoppers frequency of hopping was less than this and hence their effort also failed. Garden snakes were sent next but Mr. Naman had grown up playing with them. Not them exactly but their grand parents and their parents. Naman smiled on looking at them and picked them. The snake grandparents who had become deaf by time were so far ignorant of grass's plans. But on looking their grandchildren crawling over Mr. Naman, it made them furious and immediately ordered them back into the ground. When verbal warning had no effect on them, grand-parent snakes gave them an ultimatum - "Come now or you will not inherit our will". The snakes retreated instantly and within two seconds all of them were back. The grass's rage had doubled by now. She had only one weapon left - the only one who had real weapons - the red ants. She ordered red ants to attack their opponent and destroy him. But little did the grass knew that red ants are very emotional. Pity, yes that's what the red ants had for Mr. Naman. Pity that even Arjuna had on seeing his opponents in Mahabharata, but there was no Lord to guide ants in this moral war. It was Mr. Naman's innocent face that had won red ants's hearts. Thus the grass was defeated.
Months passed and it was summer. The hot sun had evaporated all water from grass. The thirst had turned them into pale yellow. Then came Mr. Naman, sweating, but carrying a hose pipe with him. He watered the grass standing under the uncompromising sun. Since then the grass had kept quiet feeling ashamed of her behaviour. Mr. Naman, on the other hand, still remains unaware that he has been part of a historic battle that he actually won on account of his face.
His body was used to lying on the green grass. The green grass had accepted her fate by now. She was now used to carry the weight of this man. She had tried to resist earlier. When Mr. Naman had sat on her the first time, she tried to pinch him with her long shiny blades. But Mr. Naman had too much on his mind to give attention to his body. So all her attempts went unnoticed. Furious, she spent the next few days honing her blades growing them and making them sharper but her war efforts were cut short by the gardener (Naman's beloved own Ramu kaka - every story should have a character with name as Ramu Kaka). The grass became more furious. This time, she asked help from her friends - the small insects, centipedes, millipedes, the grass hoppers, small ants both black and red and even some snakes. " From time memorial i have given you shelter, i have saved you from sun's direct light, i have shared my water with you, i have feeded you with my leaves" said the grass to her friends, "But now i need you to fight me with me, help me make this man go and lie on his bed inside his home"
We have all read the story of Gulliver's travels. This epic battle could have been called Naman's travel to the garden. But the comic connotation would ruin the seriousness of the issue. We have all read how one man has sometimes fought against an army. How the spirit on one one man has challenged an entire rule or how one man has single handedly defended his priniciple when all around him had given up. But Mr. Naman is not that man and more importantly Mr. Naman is not that kind of man.
There were many rounds of debates on seeing the grass's preparation for war among the plant life surrounding the grass lawn. Out of the four sides of the grass lawn, one side was kept open for people to enter the lawn. Plants of different varieties were planted on other three sides to give aesthetic beauty to the garden. There were plants that bore flowers, plants which gave beauty by just their leaves and then there were some cactus. Why cactus? Many have argued but to appreciate good you have to appreciate bad. There were debates between these three sides regarding the grass's declaration of war. Who is the oppressed here and who is the oppressor ? This was the main question. There were some who sided with Mr. Naman saying that it was his right to sit on grass as he had planted her in first place. Cactus were the ones who were the most vociferous in defense of Mr. Naman. But their voice was shunned down as they had no answer to the rebuttal -"You don't understand it! How can you understand the pain when no one has ever sat on you." The grass said to cactus - "You are lucky in this regard". This aggravated the cactus very much. "Lucky? Me? Madam, you have no idea. The thorns that you see outside, they have only one end that you see there. The other end is inside me and it is as sharp as the other".
The three sides were split up equally. One side supporting the grass, one opposing it and the third undecided. It was a perfect analogy of political debate. Then came the weekend and Mr. Naman's day to lie on grass. The garden had suddenly changed to a stadium with lawn as the center and three sides as spectator stands. The players were there in the middle and do not forget, it was a bright and shiny day. First the black ants were sent to irritate Mr. Naman by crawling on him. But Mr. Naman liked the tingling effect caused by them and thus grass's first weapon had turned into pleasure. Next grass asked the millipedes and centipedes to crawl under his clothes. Like soldiers in war whose courage drains out by looking at the enemy, our peaceful organisms - millipedes and centipedes refused to fight and remained in their burrows. Furious, the grass commander ordered grasshoppers to jump on him and distract Mr. Naman. The grasshoppers obeyed but you can only distract someone who is attracted towards something. Mr. Naman's attention keeps shuffling from one thought to another ten times a second. Grasshoppers frequency of hopping was less than this and hence their effort also failed. Garden snakes were sent next but Mr. Naman had grown up playing with them. Not them exactly but their grand parents and their parents. Naman smiled on looking at them and picked them. The snake grandparents who had become deaf by time were so far ignorant of grass's plans. But on looking their grandchildren crawling over Mr. Naman, it made them furious and immediately ordered them back into the ground. When verbal warning had no effect on them, grand-parent snakes gave them an ultimatum - "Come now or you will not inherit our will". The snakes retreated instantly and within two seconds all of them were back. The grass's rage had doubled by now. She had only one weapon left - the only one who had real weapons - the red ants. She ordered red ants to attack their opponent and destroy him. But little did the grass knew that red ants are very emotional. Pity, yes that's what the red ants had for Mr. Naman. Pity that even Arjuna had on seeing his opponents in Mahabharata, but there was no Lord to guide ants in this moral war. It was Mr. Naman's innocent face that had won red ants's hearts. Thus the grass was defeated.
Months passed and it was summer. The hot sun had evaporated all water from grass. The thirst had turned them into pale yellow. Then came Mr. Naman, sweating, but carrying a hose pipe with him. He watered the grass standing under the uncompromising sun. Since then the grass had kept quiet feeling ashamed of her behaviour. Mr. Naman, on the other hand, still remains unaware that he has been part of a historic battle that he actually won on account of his face.
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