Life Teaches Us

One can never say that one has learnt it all. There is absolutely no limit for knowledge and in the same way, there is no limit for how much we can learn out of life. We can be on our death bed as still say that we have learnt something new today. Such is life. Any lesson that we learn easily or anything that has been handed to us on a shining silver platter, may never be the important lessons. The most important lessons are learnt the hard way and it is important that we pay attention to these lessons that come our way in the most unexpected manner. The world is not going to end if we fail to learn them or take notice, but we may end up paying a price. Here a few things that I have learnt in my close to 28 years of living.

We are born good
No one is born with the intention to do harm or evil and it is the circumstances and ones environment that makes someone what they are. Some traits may be irreversible but its unfair to think that he/she was born that way. In our daily life we come across many people who cause us harm, pain or even suffering. Their early environment in no way justifies their actions, but for us it takes great courage and understanding to be able to think beyond a persons actions and look at the person as any other individual. It may not even reverse the harm that has been caused on us, but it is probably the first step in being able to forgive. A difficult lesson to follow or even comprehend. If only we were all able to look beyond a persons actions, the world would have been a better place. Try anyway.

Shit Happens
Lets accept it. Bad things happen to everyone and they are sure to keep happening. It doesn't matter who we are or where we are. It doesn't matter how religious we are or how evil we are, bad things do happen to all of us. Religious people will say that we are being tested by God, an evil person will probably find someone to blame and sometimes even put the blame on God and have all the more reason to blame God. As for someone who doesn't believe in God, well, I wonder who they blame it on. I believe that things happen to us just because we are at the wrong place at the wrong time. Imagine a very religious person who lost a loved one in an earthquake. Now what kind of a test was that? Its no ones fault that he/she lost someone, and I feel that its really unfair to ask the question, "why did God let this happen?" Why? Because God didn't let it happen, that's why.We get some comfort in passing the blame on to someone and that's why we find it so difficult to move on. So yeah, shit happens and we have no one to blame. Again, its very difficult and hard to practice, but we have to move on.

It All Comes Back
I have never really understood how the cycle of karma works so wonderfully, but it does. By mentioning karma, I am not referring to rebirth, but I mean the life we are living now. If we do harm to someone, it comes back to us tenfold. Try doing a good deed and that too will come back to us in a bigger package. We all get what we deserve and having said that, I am a very firm believer that life is fair. It sure is. We can whine all we want about something we don't have or didn't get and that someone else has, but the hard truth is, we did not get it because we did not deserve it or need it. We may never get all that we want, but we may get what we need. This is however only possible if we are able to give what we have within our ability. So next time you think about doing some harm to someone, no matter how small it is, remember that it is going to come back to you pretty soon.

Be Nice On Your Climb
It is human nature to be able to reach the top of a ladder. No one wants to be below anyone else and be shat upon. Through out our life we are constantly trying to climb. Some of us succeed and some of us dont. For those of us who do succeed, it is very important to be really nice to the ones below you on the ladder, because once you have reached the top, there is only one way to go. I can never forget this one line that says, "Be nice to people you meet on your way up the hill. You will meet them again on your way down."

The Important Person Is You
We all have some narcissism within us. I think it is important to have a little of it, but too much of it and people wont care much for you then. So with the little narcissism that we have, it is important to understand that we are important. If not to anyone else, then to ourselves. At times we have to learn to put ourselves first. Being selfish once in a while is necessary because one can ever make you feel the way you deserve to, other than you. If we cannot learn to value ourselves first, we will never be able to value another person for what they are truly worth. The most important person in your life is not your friend, partner or dad or mom. It's you.

Returns May never Be Equal
There are so many relationships we maintain with people in our daily life. It can be the basic relationship we maintain at work with our co-workers and it can also be the relationship we have with our parents, siblings, partner or friends. What ever it is, I believe that we must give it due importance, and even a 100%, but it is important to remember that the returns will never be what we expect. This is applicable to any relationship we maintain. Parents give their lives for their kids. They lose sleep, spend valuable time and money and in other words give a 100% to bring up their kid. As children ourselves, can we honestly say we have given back what was spent on us? That in no way means that we as parents shouldn't give it all for our kids. The same goes with our partner and our friends. We sometimes go out of our way to do things and it is important to do these things without expecting the same in return, because if you do, you are in for disappointment. We sometimes give and give without getting something back, but that's ok. Give because you love the person and not because you want the same back. Who knows where it will go. Sometimes you may just keep giving without receiving and sometimes we give for a while and we stop.

Who knows what I may learn tomorrow. I am pretty sure I have learnt a lot more, but I just cant remember all of them. Well, maybe if I don't remember, it probably isn't really worth remembering.

These I Got

I don't really remember the last time I treated myself to something good and expensive. For the last few years, I don't really remember buying something other than just groceries. The biggest reason being I never had the money. Now since I am working part time, I did manage to save some cash and I decided that I was going to treat myself to a few things. As a close friend of mine put it, "I deserve it." Hell yeah, I do.

Shinkansen 0 Series
No, its not the real thing. I got myself an N gauge model of the famous shinkansen train. It had to be imported from Japan as it was not available here. It was not a random choice and there are few reasons why I spent a huge amount for this. Firstly its the first ever model of the bullet train that ever ran, and hence it is historic. The real reason being that this very same model was the very first train set that I owned as a child. My uncle gifted this model to me when I was 6 years old, knowing my love for trains. I was really proud of it and the sad thing is I was always interested in knowing what was inside the train and how it worked. I opened it up and as a result destroyed it. I have always regretted that as I grew up and thought I would never own another one, but now I do own one. It does bring back a lot of memories of childhood and yeah, maybe it was my transitional object.

DW 7000 Double Bass PedalIt is kind of ironic that having been a drummer through school and college, I have never owned any drum kit or even any accessories. I did however own a hand made drum kit that my dad got me after I finished my 10th grade. I have always had big dreams of wanting to buy a real kit, with a few cymbals and of course a double bass pedal. I did not even try buying one before because it was way too expensive and I could never afford it. Well, now that I could, I did not miss this chance. Since I have never owned a double pedal, I do not know how to use one yet. I am quite sure that I can pick it up pretty soon. So yeah, the pedal is kick ass. Another dream conquered.

Teacher's Dream Day

For the past few weeks, 3inone has been bugging me about writing a post about something that happened in MCC. She herself has set the standard and has written quite a few. College sure was fun and there is plenty to write about, but I just keep putting it off. So anyway, here I am, writing about one of those days in MCC.

Five years is a long time to be studying in MCC, or any college for that matter. When I entered my final year of BA, I had no idea that I would be coming back for my MA. I hardly attended classes much in my first two years as I preferred the comfort of my room and my bed. Attendance rules were much relaxed back then and it was easy to get away. Towards the middle of my third and final year, I thought that maybe I should be in class more often. It could be fun after all and what if I was actually missing out on something.

My class was a really interesting mix. Now for those of you who have passed through MCC, will know that the department of Philosophy is absolutely not the most sought after department. It isn't even close. So anyway, the actual strength was close to 45, but on an average not more than 20 showed up each day. This was because the majority of them were sportsmen and they did not need to actually attend class. They just needed to be registered with some department and could go about doing their stuff. So, even after three years, I had not met half of my classmates. From among the remaining group, half of them never talked or asked questions. They just came, listened, took notes and left. It is difficult to be in a philosophy class and not engage in any sort of conversation. The rest of the class consisted of two guys who were always high, one guy who looked like he had just returned from a long penance in the Himalayas, one tall and handsome guy from Sri Lanka who was brilliant, one exceptional guitarist from Nagaland who was also brilliant, and another guy who always sat with me in the back and cracked jokes about the professors and their pronunciations. He too had started coming to class only in his last year. The seven of us did talk in class and try to engage in some level of discussion. Most of them were genuine discussions and some of us, including me would bring up some topic just so that we could have some fun, or hear the funny way in which some professors pronounced certain words.

One of the professors we had was really new and he had not taught a class before and he was teaching us the class on World Religions. It was quite evident that he was not well versed in that subject. We gave him trouble and he would literally sweat when any one started talking or raised their hands. On more than one occasion, he would give us a free hour. He just wouldn't teach and would let us go, which we were more than glad to do. He would of course continue with his class if none of the talkers were present in class. One fine day he walks in and he spots all seven of us sitting in class. Not a good day for him. He begins lightly with some casual talk and then announces that it was going to be a free hour. The seven of us decided that we would go to the cafeteria and sip on some tea and hang out there and be back for the next class. We finished our tea and our conversations and decided that we would go back to class as we did not want to be late for the next class. All seven of us walk into class ten minutes before it gets over, and guess what? The very same guy who gave us a free hour, was standing right in front with chalk and book in hand, taking his class. In front of him were the other half of the class who sat motionless like any other day. He saw us at the entrance and let out a sheepish smile, folded his book, dropped the chalk and walked out with a smile.

Looking back, I can imagine how hard it must have been for him to have been doing what he was doing. I couldn't imagine teaching a class and worse still, I couldn't imagine being asked questions. To have none of us in class that day would have been a dream come true for him. It would have probable been his best day at work, until we walked in.

How Stupid I Say

I was never the brightest student in school. I just about managed to pass. I think I could have done way better, but I decided that doing just enough was good enough. Scoring low was never an obstacle in making my progress through school, college and beyond. I have survived so long and I believe I will survive further. I am in now way trying to preach that there is no point in scoring high. Don't get me wrong here. I'm just telling you what has worked for me. There is of course a price to pay for not knowing much and I have made a complete ass out of myself on many occasions. Gosh, I cant believe that I am actually going to list out some of the dumbest crap I have said in school and college, but hey, I'm not perfect and I am not afraid to show it. I guess its a small step in my much larger journey of knowing that its perfectly ok to not know and say stupid things instead.

Kannada Indeed
When I started my 5th grade in Bangalore, Kannada was a mandatory third language. I could never speak Kannada, forget reading and writing. Thankfully, the saving grace was that we were not required to pass in order to move to the next class. We just need to have it as a class. Thank God for that. Anyway, I have absolutely no memory about the class, except the fact that the teacher used to hate me because I made a lot of noise and fooled around. I don't remember what I did for the mid term exams but I remember taking the final exam. I got the question paper in hand and I couldn't read. Now what do I do? I remember my dad or mom always telling me that I should always attempt all questions, an advise I follow even to this day. So I did attempt, and what I did was, as the answers, I write each question backwards. For example, if the question was "Do you speak Kannada really well?" my answer would be, "Well really Kannada speak you do." Let me remind you that the paper was not in English. It was pure Kannada and I had a nice time drawing each letter one by one. I think I managed to rewrite the whole question paper backwards just within the given time frame.

The Hibiscus Incident
My dad had got transferred to Trivandrum and I was supposed to take an entrance test at a well reputed school in Trivandrum. I was supposed to join the 6th grade. The exam goes pretty well and I did not score well, but just about enough to make it through. Looking back, I get the feeling that one particular answer could have blown my chances. The question was simple: "What is the Hibiscus Plant?" I was maybe 10 or 11 and I had not heard the word hibiscus before, but hey, I was not doing to leave that question just because I did not know it. I finished the rest of my paper and spent a lot of time thinking. I thought and I thought what sense I could make of this damn word. After pondering for a long time, I arrived at the conclusion that such a word did not exist. Funny that I was even convinced. It could be a spelling mistake, couldn't it? In those days the question papers were typed and anyone could make a typing error, and that was what I was betting on. So what could it be? Hibiscus...hhmmm.. sounds like biscuit, so could it be? Ahh yes... this must be it. It must be biscuit miss-spelt. So anyway, my answer was: "The hibiscus plant is a type of plant found on the hills, whose extracts are used to make biscuits." I did not get my answer paper back and at that time I did not care. For curiosity sake, I would love to see that paper now just to see what comment the teacher had left.

The Gandhi sketch.
Everybody studies something or the other about Gandhi and most of us have at least read a part of "My Experiments with Truth." We had a lesson in our English text, in the 7th grade and it was from this book. I remember it being an easy lesson with nothing really difficult. Come exam time and one of the questions was, "Give a character sketch of Kasturba Gandhi." Now, I love doodling and have always loved it. All my notebooks have more doodling than notes. After I had read the question, my eyes saw only the word "sketch" and nothing else. I was happy because the English teacher had asked us to sketch. Haaa, I could get full marks for this question. I was so confident. Hence I spent most of my time drawing a good portrait of Kasturba Gandhi. I drew it with great love and care. Shading it properly. I dressed her up in a nice sari and I remember shading it to make it look like khadi. To make it more realistic, I even gave her a nice long ladle. Perfect. I was so pleased with it. When the papers came back, my heart sank. My lovely drawing was crossed out with a bold red pen and there was a huge zero placed next to it and next to it was written, "Meet me after class."

French Connection
I think I managed to not say anything stupid while in college. This incident was however forced out of me, by the situation I was in. I had always had trouble with languages. Kannada gave me a hard time and I have had trouble with Hindi too, in school. I thought I would be done with languages while in college, but here I am, stuck with french. I studied it for two whole years and still I cannot speak much. The first three semesters, i managed to pass after numerous attempts and copying. During the fourth semester we have an oral exam, where we go into the room one at a time. The french professor would be accompanied by a visiting professor from another college. I had mugged up the basic greetings like good morning, thank you etc. I had also mugged up the common holiday greeting like merry Christmas, happy new year etc. My trump card was knowing how to say, "desole je ne sai pas"(sorry, I don't know), and I made sure I flaunted this skill after most of the questions he asked me. Hey, so what if I didn't know the answer. I was at least saying that I did not know, in pure french. Anyway the final question was a picture. It showed a guest at a hotel complaining to the manager about the sad state of his room. The room looked like it had been vandalized. We were supposed to create a dialogue based on this picture in maybe two or three lines. Damn, how on earth do I come up with a dialogue in a language I do not know. I had to be fast as the professors face was showing signs of irritation. I said, what the heck and what I blurted out was, "la moi hotel room le destruction." Please dont ask me what it means. I don't know if it made sense and I don't know if it actually does, to this day. The visiting professor had the look of shock. My professor shook his head and said, "Its really sad that you have come so unprepared." After saying this he shouted, "NEXT." I was out of there in a hurry and remember regretting not saying "merci"(thank you), as i exited. I never thought much about this incident until the results came and guess what, I passed. I am pretty sure, it wasn't by my merit, but maybe because he did not want to deal with me ever again.

Just Another Job?

I have started working, and have been doing so for the last three weeks. No, this is not my career option, but just a means to make some extra money. Waiting tables at a restaurant may not be the most exciting job around, but it sure brings in some quick money. A new restaurant called "Canal Bistro" opened three weeks ago and I thought it would be worth giving it a try. It is a Mediterranean restaurant and is located right next to a canal, and hence the name. Some of the items on the menu include felafel's, gyro, kebabs, shawarma and so on. The food is pretty impressive and the response from the public has been great. Lunch times and evenings are packed and on weekends it could drag way beyond midnight.

Though it has been just three weeks, I have learnt a lot from this experience. This is probably my first experience working in the real competitive world where the money you make depends on the number of tables you manage to serve. The concept of "survival of the fittest" makes itself known to me suddenly. It's amazing how people can be mean when there is money involved. Its amazing how most of them don't care what you think about them, as all they want to do is pocket maximum cash as possible, even if that means stepping all over you or even making themselves appear as pricks and bitches. I guess I should not be complaining much as this is probably how people are going to be in the real world, so I should just suck it up and deal with it. I believe I succeed in not being a prick and as for the other pricks and bitches, I guess ignoring them would be the best option. I take what table i get and don't fight over a bigger table that someone else has just grabbed. Sure, my collection for the day may be a little less than the others, but at the end of the day I'm just proud of myself.

Serving is fun and it can get really hectic during peak time. Balancing five tables at a time can confuse the kababs out of you and it gets more difficult if the table you have consists of some fussy customers. I have not had any rude customers yet, thankfully. There was this one lady who almost got on my nerves because she asked for ranch dressing on the side for an order of chicken strips for the kids meal. I politely told her that we did not have ranch dressing and she was like, "which restaurant does not have ranch dressing?" I explained to her that this was a Mediterranean restaurant with pure Mediterranean food and that ranch was probably not a very popular item in that area. She was not convinced and went on for a few minutes about how she was not satisfied. Thankfully the ordeal ended soon and surprisingly I got a good tip.

In more than one ways, this has been a really humbling experience for me. Serving is not jut about taking the food out. There is a lot more involved. Every night, once the last customer has left, we need to collect all chairs on the patio and stack them up. Everyday we need to polish and neatly wrap the silverware. Everyday we need to refill the ketchup bottles, olive oil bottles and other nick knacks. Doing these does not suck much energy from you but it may appear hard towards the end of a hard day. The more difficult job included sweeping and moping the whole restaurant every night and making sure its clean enough for the next day. Cleaning the toilets would probably be on top of the list of things I found hard doing. In a way you could say that back in India some of us have been spoilt. We have maids and servants to sweep and mop our homes. The wash the dishes, take the trash out and do the laundry. They even clean the toilets. I don't think I have ever cleaned a toilet my whole life. The first time I probably did it was when I first came to this country, and that was my own toilet. And now, here I am cleaning someone else's shitpot. I found it difficult to do. Not physically, but mentally. I think the problem is that back home we associate certain kinds of jobs with certain kinds of people. I was brought up like that and I am sure so were many of you. I did it anyway and I still do it. I don't have to do it everyday as we take turns doing it, but it has probably humbled me in some way.

Overall, I enjoy working at this place. The owners are great people and they know how to treat the workers. Did I mention that this place also serves hookah? I get to smoke it as much as I want to, and not to mention the great food I get to try. I am also glad that I am not working for an Indian restaurant, because they work the shit out of you and hardly pay you much. Sometimes I wish that I had gotten this opportunity a while ago, because I could have made some good money, but better late than never, isn't it?

PS: If making good tips are your intention, then never serve a Desi. They make small talk with you, act friendly, ask about your hometown and so on, and leave you with a pathetic tip.