Category: 2018

Negative feedback is toughest to receive when it’s vague, and obscure.

Remember that when you tell someone you don’t like something they’ve done, or worst, something they’ve made. When someone creates something, and has the courage (because it does take courage to put yourself up for judgment), to show you their work, they’re trusting you to tell them what’s on your mind.

It’s okay not to say anything positive. It’s perfectly fair for you to say “no, that’s not quite right”, or “woah, you took all that time to make this?”, and it’s valid for you to not enjoy something made by someone.

Just remember to articulate it a bit better than “I didn’t like it”. Here’s why. Anyone who creates will want to know how to make things that you appreciate. Everyone has subjective views on things, so someone creating exclusively for you, would like to know what works for you, and what your tastes are like.

The only way for them to find out is if you tell them why you didn’t like something.

Take the other scenario. What if they’re creating for the public? Maybe you’re not the greatest critic, or the leading expert in the field they’re creating in. But, opinions always help. Someone’s more likely to work on finer details if you explain to them that what they’ve done doesn’t sit right with you for a particular reason.

Unreasoned, negative feedback, has to be, hands-down, the most depressing thing I’ve seen.

my
blood
has
been
replaced
by
ink
my
fingers
turn into
keystrokes
and
fountain pens
my
head
is
filled
with
words
and
my
arms
are
full
of
books
and
acts
and
thick paper
that
longs
for
the
touch
of
my words.

 

There’s not much to say, so here’s something I wrote as a child:

Ebenezer Scrooge is the protagonist of the novel, “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens. Ebenezer Scrooge, at the beginning of the novel is a cold-hearted, tight-fisted miser who despises the thought of Christmas.

With the plot changing so quickly, there is always a reminder of Scrooge’s character in the middle. Dickens utilizes the setting of Christmas Eve and the cold weather in comparison to Scrooge’s inner coldness

Charles Dickens first describes Scrooge as a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone.  A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! He was hard as a flint, from which no steel had ever brought out generous fire. This whole description shows us that Scrooge was a man who was hard to negotiate with. It shows us that it was hard to see generosity with old Scrooge.

Scrooge’s inner coldness is described as to make his lips turn blue and his eyes turn red.

The elements of the weather which Dickens uses are the increasing cold, darkness, fog, rain, snow, sleet, hail and wind. Each element symbolises a person’s character in some way or the other. The cold symbolises what a cold- hearted person. The darkness symbolises a person who is shady, sly and lonely person. The fog shows us the character of a person who is not very straightforward and to the point. The winds, snow, hail, sleet and rain shows that a person’s thoughts, words and deeds cannot be interpreted by others.

Scrooge’s character unfolds in this manner; he was cold as a stone. A cold- hearted person, who had an improved opinion of himself and drives away 2 people who come asking for donations with nothing. As the book goes on, the cold keeps increasing, as to show the inner coldness of Scrooge increasing. The growing darkness shows us that Scrooge’s miserly ways were deeper into him. He was insensitive to other people’s needs. The intensifying fog shows us that he did deeds for a different purpose. He kept his door open to keep an eye on his clerk rather than to welcome people into his home on the merry eve of Christmas. The winds, snow, hail, sleet and rain shows that Scrooge’s thoughts, words and deeds could not be interpreted well by others. The growing fog shows Scrooge getting hateful because he despises Christmas, so wherever there is a mention of the fog it shows the readers that Scrooge continues despising Christmas. All the actions described show Scrooge’s miserly ways

When the ghost of Dead Marley arrives, Ebenezer Scrooge is scared, but the first thing he says is, “How now? What do you want with me?”  Dickens writes that he said this caustic and cold as ever. This means that after Scrooge was out of the mode of a bit of warmth in his heart, he was back to his cold ways.

On Page 12, Para 3, Dickens shows the weather as, ‘Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold.’ The very upcoming action of Scrooge shows us his response to the thought of A Merry Christmas. At the sound of the Christmas Carol, Scrooge seizes the ruler with a burst of energy and anger.

On Page 3, Para 2, Dickens writes that external heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. This shows us that if the weather was warm or cold, Scrooge would be the same old person. No warmth could make his heart warm and the cold made him stay the same old cold-hearted Scrooge.

However, it is interesting to note that there is no mention of the weather when Dead Jacob Marley’s ghost arrives. This tells us readers that Scrooge was in the comfort zone with Marley and grew a bit warm hearted there.

If my Math is correct, I could have a productive year of writing still.

I’ve had a strange day. Classes were swell, but I zoned out during class for 5 minutes and was bombarded with intriguing thoughts. I reckon having a little time off can change the amounts you think about things a fair amount. Being alone with your thoughts in a silent classroom is crazy. I’m going to try to avoid that. Maybe just “not” zoning out will help. We shall find out.

I’m being a bit lazy I feel. There’s a couple of things that I have to do but I’m procrastinating them badly. I am, however, enjoying the World Cup like it’s nobody’s business, and managing to read a lot. That’s nice.

On campus, there’s not much to report, really. The power shut off for about 30 minutes in the boys hostel – which means boredom, naturally hit its peaks. I think it’s also the first time my neighbours actually came over to interact with me.

That’s about it. At some point I’m hoping I get to write stuff that’s more engaging. For now I’m going to enjoy England v. Colombia. And then get to work. For a while. Maybe.

Curdrice out.

 

“Oh oh”

I’m hoping readers of this blog are well-versed with Lana Del Rey’s music. If not, my reference lyrics may be viewed here.

Poor humour aside. I’ve had a pretty good break away from University. Away from most things, to be honest. I decided actively to stay away from everything I had considered “routine” at college, because I wanted a proper break from what my life is like in Gujarat. Finished up an internship in Bangalore, spent some time with really good friends, made some new ones, and ate a lot of great food.

Headed to Dubai, met my best friend, chilled with new friends, and of course, spent tons of time with the family. Haven’t been able to actively spend time with them over the last year since I was a bit preoccupied with a competition I was working on, so this was quite swell. What made me very happy was that I made them both laugh multiple times over the course of this trip. There’s some simple joy right there.

I’m back in Khakhraland, and, well, not much has changed. Except for that fact that for the next one month I’m the senior-most person on campus. Which is,  new, to say the least. Never thought I’d feel more senior than I did back in 12th. It also means people are now familiar with my presence – the Security Guards around campus, several mess staff. It’s nice. Talking to them is always a pleasure.

My first day of class was not terrible at all. From what I had heard I kept expectations at the minimum, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was awake through all lectures, and had pages filled with notes at the end of every single one of them. Naturally I have created judgments about each professor, but I shall let those pass for the time being. It’s only my first week. Everyone deserves a chance to show their true colours.

Maybe they’ve made judgments about me too. I wonder if they know my name, hmm.

Aside from that, college appears to have switched to an online attendance tracker. Which is also weird. I’m undecided on how I feel, so you’re likely to receive a large post about this attendance thing when I make up my mind. Here’s your warning.

Another quick bit about summer though, I managed to catch up to reading pace and I’m now 2 books ahead of schedule. Lots of blog reading about books helped. I plan to do statistical breakdown of my reading too. If you’re ever intrigued, please do check out Pages With Tejas, my book blog thing.

In a befuddling series of events I went to the gym for 15 days. It felt nice, so I’ve signed up for a gym close to campus. If that’s something I can change about myself this semester, I’d be happier. Please put prayers that I don’t feel lazy.

Goals for the semester: Read. Write. Gym. Sleep. Write. Draw. Music. Repeat.

Considering doing some volunteering work close by as well.

I’m hoping I can write everyday again. I’ve missed it.

I’ve also missed you, my 5 readers (hi Amma, Appa, Ajjis and Tata). If there’s anyone else reading, hello to you. And welcome.

Good luck surviving my brain.

Flying back to Ahmedabad involved taking 4 flights over 2 days. It finally gave me a chance to pause and think about what I had done over the last 8 months, working on a fake case while applying real Law and learning how the modalities of that Law works.

But this post isn’t about that.

What my flight gave me time to do was to think – and I slowly got around to thinking about what I fear the most. I fear two things: failure, and isolation. And in a strange way, I find that both these fears are very interconnected. This may end up becoming a very preachy post, and you can judge me for it – but I’ve always used this blog as a forum to express thoughts in my brain, so I’m not going to apologize for content I write, even if it is preachy.

Let’s discuss fear first. I realized slowly that my fear of failure doesn’t come out of some form of desire to conform to society’s expectations of me, but rather, to meet expectations I set for myself. I consider missing out on standards I hold myself accountable to, far worse than disappointing others. This could be things as small as being a nice person, or complimenting someone on something, or congratulating someone. I think in the grand scheme of things, when I miss out on those, I feel terrible. It’s why I constantly apologize for messing up. While I recognize my actions may have caused hurt to people – and therefore I should apologize and demonstrate I have understood what had transpired and will try not to repeat it again, what I takeaway more is that I’ve ended up deviating from an identity of mine that makes me happiest, and that, is far more disappointing.

This fear of failure manifests itself a lot in the form of disappointment in myself, and sometimes, a lack of self-confidence. While the latter isn’t common, the former happens every time I am unhappy. It’s something I have begun to change by setting out to tasks with simpler goals and focusing on experiences rather than outcomes – trying to find happiness rather than achievements, and it has, in some sense, made things better. But something I’ve learnt is that you can’t force emotions, and it’s okay to feel disappointed in yourself at times. Just, always find the courage to move past that disappointment. It does, in the long run, make all the difference (or so I hear).

It’s also okay to feel jealousy and rage. These are only human emotions. They’re not dirty, and nobody is going to judge you for being angry about something. It’s fine to experience these things. It’s also okay if people judge you. If you’re feeling something, you’re feeling something. The human brain is weird, and feelings are not fully controllable at times.

Like love. That’s a weird emotion as well. Hmm.

I find it strange that I need to express this out in words, but because both those emotions have negative connotations attached to them so often, I’ve tried blocking them out of my personality a lot. I don’t think that’s very healthy.

There have been several people who have given me this perspective in the last few days, and I’m very grateful to them all.

That’s my fear of failure. As an optimist, I’m also perennially hopeful of securing the best outcome possible, and when that doesn’t work out, it does lead to disappointment. That’s okay as well, I find – but over the last few months, I’ve becoming far more of a realist. A couple of experiences have taught me to hope for the best, but expect the most likely, logical outcome you can envisage. Sometimes, that could be the worst. Who knows.

The second fear is a little worse. It’s isolation. I’ve chronicled this in the past on this blog, so I don’t want to delve into murky waters again – I’m going to focus on the correlation between my two fears a little more.

Sometimes I feel like I disappoint other people, or I fail to meet expectations people have of me. And I am, somewhat fearful that people will leave me. I don’t trust easy, nor do I open up quickly. I’m slow with emotional realizations, and daft about people’s willingness to help me at times. It’s quite painful for others, I would imagine.

This is a characteristic of mine I have worked on slowly over the last few years. It’s a continuous process.

But isolation is not something I would enjoy.

Another thing that pricks at me is that sometimes I make mistakes. Objective ones. I say things casually that have deeper meanings, or maybe even cause discomfort to people. All humans do this. It’s what both worries me and fascinates me.

The worrying bit is that you know, people will leave because of some discomfort I cause them. This is small, but true.

The fascinating bit is that people are so unique and have preferences, and quirks, and things that cause them discomfort. All I can do is to be open-minded and accepting of people, and be considerate and kind. It feels like the only thing in my control, and that to me, is so incredibly cool about this Universe.

Someone close to me recently told me I should stop thinking so much. They were right about that. I tend to get trapped in trains of thought that somehow always lead to me apologizing to someone, or overthinking some extremely small detail. Entrapping myself in my thoughts is not something I enjoy, nor is it a habit I believe is healthy. Overthinking isn’t either – it prevents me from enjoying a lot of things, and it also prevents people around me from enjoying themselves or enjoying my company. I may have, actually ruined people’s days by pointing out some terribly small insignificant thing I felt bad about when it was unnecessary.

All of this post was a result of a lot of thinking. It’s also something I believe has helped me stop overthinking about these fears, or situations, or guilt, or whatever the mixed bunch of emotions I was feeling while typing this out was. Overthinking has been happening a lot in the last two weeks. But also, it happens in bouts. When it happens, it can get really, really bad. A couple of things I’m happy about are that I can publicly acknowledge this weakness of mine, and that I’m surrounded by people who tell me that I’m being dumb and I haven’t really done things to think about. It’s quite lovely. Also helps me think less. Always a good thing (as you can see, I am rambling now.)

This post was written onboard my flight from Washington, D.C. to the Abu Dhabi. I made a couple of edits in Ahmedabad to reflect times a little more accurately.

At this point, if there’s someone reading this who is worried about me – please don’t be. This was 2 days ago, and I’m barely thinking like this right now. My self-confidence is fine, and I am very content at the moment. There are several things I am looking forward to, and I’m overthinking a lot less. Hopefully this helps me live in the moment a lot more!

Also, a massive thank you to several people who shall go unnamed who have provided me assurances and listened to my emotional bursts at the strangest times.

Curdrice out.

Also happier posts to come! GloPoWriMo time is best time.

 

Fun times, as always, where I commit to writing every day and then forget to write for a bit because of other pressing commitments – like exams.

Our exams start at 2pm, and we need to be seated in our hall any time between 1.50 and 2, and I usually head in around a cool 1.56pm. It gives me just enough time to set up the way I want, say a small prayer, drink a sip of water, and then begin my palms for the terrifying 2 hours that lay ahead. But, I’ve been going early to my exam hall these days.

Why, you ask? (or you’re forced to read about?)

Well, mostly because I’m giving up on my studying quicker. I’ve learned that my brain has capacity and at some point, I’ve done all the studying I could do. That extra minute of revision isn’t going to help unless it’s crucial. I usually shut my books by 1.40pm and joke with my roommate for 10 minutes. That really gets us going. Especially on days like today, where we laughed about how tragic it would be if we were faced with a paper that made us feel like Mr. Bean taking an exam. (and, it was. A comforting thought in times of trouble.) We then said some Aal Izz Well thing, motivated each other, and breathed huge sighs of relief. In 2 hours, we said, we’d be looking forward to the weekend.

The other reasons are largely social. I have a couple of exam buddies. These aren’t people I usually hang out with, but we end up entering the exam hall at the same time. Every single exam. And then there’s a bit of chatter about what the date is and other mundane details. But that really calms me down before an exam, which is super fun.

Also, going early means more time to go pee before writing an exam. Without the stress of “Oh no what I have a really long leak will I make it to the exam hall from my hostel room without running.” That peace of mind is necessary. Plus, I drink too much water during exams. I go through about 1 litre in those 2 hours, and maybe 3/4 litres a day, at minimum. (Maybe more.) So peeing is essential.

The last bit, is my favourite.

Getting to an exam early means more time to observe things. There’s this wonder about finding out who your invigilator is. Will it be easy for students around you to cheat? Is this a new faculty whose name you do not know? Are they aware that you can only go to the washroom once in the next 120 minutes, or will you be able to sneak out twice (more to give your hands a break than to pee, but still)? Is this a professor who has taught you before, or is it someone who is going to scrutinize your ID card as if your name cannot possibly be Tejas Rao?

The possibilities are endless.

Then there’s the opportunity to observe people’s pre-exam rituals and facial expressions: that familiar feeling of dread and fear which materializes in laughter, the comfort of watching someone enter, catch your glance, and realize you’re both in the same boat of panic-relief. To see someone ask for a pen before an exam, because they’ve forgotten stationery, or hand in their mobiles – which they’ve carried in accidentally.

It puts my mind to ease.

There’s something else apart from the Law to concentrate on for a bit, and that’s nice. Especially before the two hours in which all my brain thinks about are “How badly do you need to pee right now?” and “How many pages does this booklet have left?”

 

 

The biggest thing I’ve noticed since I stopped writing is that I’m no longer as in control of my thoughts and emotions as I was when I used to write daily. I was very reliant on this blog last year as a medium of expression, in terms of how I communicated what went on in my brain out to someone, or to something, rather. It provided a very big source of comfort for me, and provided a platform for me to talk about things and type them into this big void, free for whomever to see – without fear of judgment or criticism.

I need that control back, so I think I’m going to be writing every day again.

Your move, world.

This trip was not on my agenda at all. If you gave me an option to take a retreat, never in my wildest dreams would I mark out Kenya as a place to visit. In hindsight, I think that reflects my general inertia toward trips in general.

I really wanted to take a holiday at some point this semester, because I knew post February second week, I would be very exhausted, and needed a breather. Naturally, University has attempted to throw up certain hurdles such as a revised attendance policy. My parents were undeterred, and my mother planned out a seven-day vacation for the family all the way in Nairobi.

This was no easy task. It’s the middle of the year, so taking annual leave is difficult for the adults in the family. Plus, she had to cope with a child reluctant to participate in planning out the entire holiday, but with his own set of demands (wanted to see the cities I was visiting and/or bagpack/walk around places). It was a hectic time. Some verbal spats were involved. But she persevered.

My oh my, was it worth it.

I spent two days in the Maasai Mara, surrounded by wildlife and nature. A day in Lake Nakuru, with more wildlife and nature. And then two days at Mombasa on the beach.

In the middle, I met the Maara tribesmen, entered a village, partook in some dancing, and lost my luggage.

I also learnt that I enjoy photography. A lot. I have a really strange tremor that affects my hands, and usually end up taking very shaky photographs when given a phone camera. With a DSLR in my hands, that did not seem to be a problem. I think I’m going to try taking more photographs in my free time. Just walk around Ahmedabad also a little more and get some good clicks. It’s something I believe I can really enjoy.

The hospitality in Kenya was incredible and is possibly one of the things I loved about the trip. Caring comes very naturally to people. Our tour guide, James, was fabulous – in terms of understanding limitations we had as a group of vegetarians, or with my grandmother’s arthritis. Remember how I said we lost our luggage? A female taxi driver volunteered herself to go collect our luggage from the Mombasa airstrip and bring it to us at the Ukunda airstrip where we were at – which is a distance of 3 hours one-way, including a trip on a ferry.

It was incredibly heartwarming.

On the trip, apart from seeing some incredible things, I got a lot of time to reflect on things, and I’m hoping to really get into the flow of some lifestyle changes again. Especially doing charity work. I forgot how nice the art of giving makes you feel. Or generally, working toward putting a smile on someone’s face. I think I’m going to be more active about that. My aunt and mother, through their NGO donated some clothes and other material to the Maasai children, as well as children affected by HIV in Nairobi. That really touched me – I didn’t know it was an agenda on our trip at all.

All in all, a 10/10 recommendation to go to Kenya and spend time in the middle of the jungle.

I think seeing vast expanses of arid, dry land (somewhat like a scene from Lion King), makes you realize how insignificant we are. Seeing animals up close and personal – including some very natural interactions like feeding, was very, very heartwarming. It made me realize how much we sacrifice for urban development, for example, or commercialization. That’s given me a lot to think about – stuff I can’t really put into words just yet.

I’ll probably go back to work on some animal conservation project I think. Even if its just for a short time.

All this stuff was great, honestly. But what I’m most grateful for is that I got 10 uninterrupted days with my family. It’s something I cherish the most – even though I don’t quite show it as much when I am with them, I don’t think. I’ve missed out on a host of things since Grade 10 – because of exams and some academic commitment or the other. I also have workaholic genes, which provide convenient excuses to miss out on stuff. Throughout this, my family has been supportive and understanding, so to be able to go on a holiday with them was fantastic.

My last takeaway was that I got to think about my relationship with my parents a lot. There are a couple of experiences I’d like to financially be able to provide for them once I start earning, so let’s see if that plays out. They’ve managed to give me some experiences that literally make up who I am as a person, so giving that back will feel wonderful, methinks.

That’s all for today.

Finally writing again. I think I’ll start to do this more often. I missed it.

Curd rice out.

One of the things I really admire about my father is his ability to connect to people across social strata. It’s one of the things he made me very conscious about as a young kid, and it’s something that we don’t do regularly enough in India. My barber and I have a sacred relationship – in whichever city I spend time in, I make friends with a barber who I entrust with my hair, for life. He’s the only one allowed to cut it and shape it and leave his mark on it. He is the artist and my hair is his paint.

I’m usually very picky about when I have a haircut – I hate going to the barbershop close to some important date, some time where it’s necessary and beneficial to look presentable, because I’m worried that the haircut will make me look terrible. As a result, haircuts are meticulously planned out in my head. I go for one pretty much every month on the same date and end up looking pretty consistent across photographs. In fact, I think I’ve looked the same since Age 5 (minus the acne).

But I took a bold risk. Today, I went for a haircut. This, despite the fact that I really need to look good for a few days in the upcoming week. I prayed to God when I sat on the chair, and communicated exactly what I wanted to Picasso, hoping he’d work another masterpiece.

However I decided today would be a great day to take my mind off my nervousness by actually talking to my barber and understanding how he ended up where he is. I’ve not done this before because his shop’s always been awfully crowded, and he’s usually focusing on the Taarak Mehta playing in the background. In the past, I’ve convinced myself that my broken Hindi is only sufficient to ensure that my hair isn’t ruined. Today, I ventured into the unknown.

And I learnt so much about the barber. And strangely, about the Law.

Curiously enough, people who don’t study it, don’t trust it. (This isn’t something new, but the gravity of things only strikes you when it’s contextualized.) Land matters take far too along, fraud in daily life is a regularity, losses keep coming and the Law just seems unable to protect people in time. After 10 years of cutting the hair of Law students, my barber had become more aware of current issues. Apparently, one of my seniors had told my barber to send his kids to school and just ensure they complete Class 10 in English medium. Because that would ensure employability of some kind.

Since that day, my barber’s been studying himself. Through the newspapers he has spread out for his customers. Through his customers himself. And apparently, he watches the News in the afternoon when no one is around – because Taarak Mehta is on hold for a bit apparently.

I know this shouldn’t, and it probably doesn’t sound like much. But this evening, my barber took off some of my hair and replaced it with a bunch of perspective.