This is my daily blog. Posts auto-update below!
- Wakin’ Up Is Hard To Do
This is a universal truth. It’s difficult to wake up each morning. I’ve met people who enjoy waking up, who are happy to be at the start of a fresh day, but I haven’t met somebody to whom waking up comes with ease. For me, waking up feels like rebellion. Every cell in my body wants to continue sleeping. All my brain cells tell me to sleep more too, but in an act of defiance against all of them, I push aside my comforter and wake up.
I was terrible at waking up at University. My roommate can attest to this. At my worst, I was a representation of Newton’s First and Third Laws of Motion. I remained at rest until acted on by an external force, specifically, my roommate. When said external force acted upon me, I simultaneously exerted an equal and opposite force on that body, namely, “I’m awake, will lie down for another 5 minutes.”
My history of being this human being goes way back to my school days. At that point, my mother was the external force I relied on. No alarm clock would ever work.
This pandemic, and the lockdown period, has seen a massive change in how I approach my sleep cycle – and sleep in general. First off, I’ve understood it’s value and impact on my life a lot more. My sleep cycle at University was non-existent, and being the kind of person I am, I thought that I’d be able to sustain that forever. It felt like sleep was just time spent not being awake, and not doing things, which is something I find difficult. A lot of reading later, I am convinced about how essential sleep is in my life, and how much having a regular sleep cycle can improve my days, and my quality of life. I’ve also noticed a significant impact on my mood.
Naturally, I’ve tried to sleep more.
The other thing I’ve been trying to do is become a morning person. Given how difficult waking up is, this has not been easy at all. It’s been a 3-month struggle, and it’s likely to be a struggle for quite some time, but I’m finally at a place where I regularly wake up before 6AM and stay away from my phone, actually get things done.
I always assumed I was a night owl, and I was most efficient at night. Now that I look back, I don’t think that’s fully true. I’m most efficient when I don’t have social media to distract me – which is late at night, when nobody uses social media, or early mornings – when it’s easier to stay away from social media.
What I find when I wake up in the morning is that the day feels longer. By extension, I’m beginning to feel like there’s more I can do each day, more time to seize, to relax when I want to, when I need to.
I’m not completely a convert though. There are moments, and days, when I’m up late at night, where I feel like Michael Scott, “I’m an early bird, and a night owl” – because I find it tough letting go of what now feels like it’s been a lifetime habit.
Maybe waking up will get easier soon. My new solution is to try waking up and smiling immediately. Subconsciously trick my brain into believing it enjoys this activity. I’ll let you know how that goes.
- On Education
Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to pick up my phone and call my high school Principal. My parents have been asking me to do this for years, but it felt appropriate on that day, given that I had closed off one part of my learning journey, and was taking my next steps. I’ve maintained a good relationship with most faculty who have taught me or interacted with me, so it didn’t feel awkward picking up the phone and calling her.
I’m so glad I did.
You see, about two years ago, my mother met my high school Principal on a flight to Dubai, and they spent a day together. Something I appreciate tremendously about my parents is that they’ve never forgotten that my teachers are human beings who have lives outside of teaching classes. My HKG teacher actually came home to visit the day I graduated from preschool and got me a cake and everything. While hearing these stories may seem out of place to others, for me, interacting with my teachers outside of school, while maintaining a respectful distance, has been the norm. I remember the day my parents spent with my Principal vividly. They called me up that evening and told me how fortunate I was to have been led and mentored by someone like Ma’am.
It was the first time in five years I was speaking to her, but the warmth in her voice felt like it had never left. Once I introduced myself, I could see Ma’am smiling, and was instantly taken back to meetings we had with her when I was on Student Council, where most feedback she had to give us was always encouraging and offered with a patient smile. At one point she said, “I didn’t think I made an impact on you kids because I never taught you”. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
At my school, as with most schools, the Principal represented a bridge between the administrative day-to-day and the teaching day-to-day. Ma’am made an impact on us because she chose to do so. This was true of most Management staff at our school – their doors were only closed when they were in meetings, and if you had something you really wanted to take up with them, you were free to do so. The first time my mother interacted with her was in Grade 8 when she requested I be allowed to take 9 subjects for the board examinations instead of the usual 8. Ma’am agreed, with the caveat that the extra subject would be difficult to timetable, so the school would provide support as best as they could, but I would have to self-study a fair amount. Ma’am was a part of the decision-making board that awarded me School Captaincy, reposing faith in my ability to lead. She was a part of this dressing-down we got given as a French class when we failed to study for a vocabulary test in Grade 9, but a part of this motivational brigade that allowed 3 of us to study the subject further in Grades 11 and 12.
Someone like that leaves an impression on you instantly. She told me how she continued to teach even today, and all of the outreach and support she offered to younger schools without access. As someone interested in engaging with academics, I always wondered whether it was a life-long journey, whether that passion would carry you through forever. Ma’am’s own admission says it does.
After catching her up on what now seems like the trivial details in my life, our conversation moved onto other pastures. I was able to ask her about her philosophy toward education. Her reply came instantly, backed with the most heartwarming story of somebody she taught who returned home to his village in Nepal as an ayurvedic doctor – that teaching, and education, has to be child-centric. Given that I plan to work with the Law, I’ve always wondered how this is possible at higher education. How is it that you can make a mark on somebody who comes to learn from you pre-moulded? Her advice is something I’ll keep with me for a long time: learn their stories.
I look back at my own University years now, fresh from completing them, and all good faculty learned our stories. Each of us developed a rapport with the faculty that sought out information about us – and tried to encourage our individual potentials. I aspire to do that one day.
Similarly, though, she reminded me of how crucial it was that I engage in improving access. I instantly thought of one of my batchmates who has practised this for the past five years. As part of Community Outreach programs at school, I taught English and Math at a Government School, but only when provided the opportunity from school. Ever so often, I’d see posts on social media from this batchmate of mine about his experience teaching at a school close to our campus, and how rewarding that was. It was only in our final year that I was able to ask him a little bit about it – and learn a little bit more about how he put it into practice so early on in his life. His reply is in my memory: education is a goal that’s bigger than ourselves.
My roommate has told me something consistently since our first year. All of this education stuff, all of these degrees, they’re all things we’re getting for ourselves, but in a way, society is entrusting us with this knowledge in the hope that we can improve society in some way.
For the past two days I’ve been stirring my own thoughts about education – led by memories of this batchmate, my roommate, and my high school Principal. That’s what led to this post – I thought it was a worthy place to come back to if I ever had doubts about teaching and lost sight of the idealism I possess today. I know I want to join the academy – I want to read, research and learn continuously. I’d like to teach courses that leave students as enthralled by my favourite subjects as I am. My outlook to education, and to learning, at this point, is that, humans are born learners. It’s why we smile, for example, when we learn how to walk as babies, or pick up new skills when we’re children. It brings us joy. Somewhere in our lives, something makes us forget that. As a teacher, I’d like to try reminding people of that joy.
Most of my teachers did that for me. They crafted this atmosphere in which I loved learning. So much of what I want to do is derivative of how I was taught things – at school, at University.
But I want to engage with school students as well, if I teach at the University level. I’d like to work on improving access to education – which isn’t something I can do in theory if I’m just at Universities, there’s such a high barrier to access. I think I want to volunteer in schools more, and help in whatever way I can. Right now, I’m teaching a module on Constitutional Law and Civics to high schoolers at my alma mater, but that’s just a trial run. I’d like to expand that and teach it in my regional language, Kannada, to as many schools possible.
I only hope people don’t sleep in my class because they’re bored. If they’re tired, perhaps.
- Colour Theory
Redesigning the blog and the newsletter with the help of a professional was a wonderful decision. For me, it’s added the splash of colour I’ve wanted for a while. Doing so was such a privilege, and such a fascinating experience. It was the first time I actually expressed the design that I wanted for something, and I’m thrilled with the way it’s turned out.
When I was younger and we relocated houses in Dubai, I was given the chance to select the colour I wanted the walls of my room painted. We had split up the house to give each member of the family the opportunity to select what a room should feel like. My mother picked out the colours for the hall and the corridors, cream-yellow and red. My father picked out an olive green for a single wall in the master bedroom, and I picked out a sky blue for my own room. I spent hours looking at all of these colour palettes available at ACE Hardware, and when the paint consultants visited the house as well, and I struggled to pick between specific shades of blue. Ultimately it was my mother who suggested that I pick a sky blue, given that I had dark blue furniture. I remember her saying it would provide excellent contrast. I agreed, without completely understanding what contrast meant. All I knew was that I liked the colour blue.
My sense of colour was very off when I was young. There are tales in the family of how I dressed up like a multicoloured rainbow, with some shorts that didn’t go with the shirt I was wearing, and different coloured socks that didn’t pair with the shoes I wore. I don’t think I did it deliberately, but I’ve always been the kind of person who wears the clothes that are the most comfortable rather than worrying about whether they combined well together – something that irked my mom for several years. I think she began to gain some faith in me when I went off to University and didn’t look terrible there – mostly just lounging around with different kinds of jeans on T-shirts, but ensuring no clashes of colour.
Picking a colour for my room in Bangalore was easy – it was sky blue once more, this time because of the contrast offered by my dark blue felt board, chair, and beanbag. We had decided, as a family, to have one wall per room with textured paint, just to highlight the wall and bring it to life – so to speak. I picked this spatula like effect, and wanted a dark blue background with a light blue accent, but the painters overruled us and convinced us that two light blue shades would go better. They didn’t. Of the multiple things in my room I may change someday, opting for a different paint scheme for that wall would be the first.
Given this checkered history, the opportunity to express my ideas of colour to somebody who would be able to transform it into something aesthetically pleasing was something I relished. Over the past couple of months I had thought about what I desired, and it was delightful to be able to communicate that to someone else. Through the process I understood how difficult graphic design and digital art actually is, but also the multiple opportunities for editing it offers. Mokshada, whom I worked with, made these incredible iterations of every design idea she had, and made the most minor tweaks to ensure it looked exactly like what I wanted. I loved how I could see the detailing come to life – it gave me a lot of joy.
More crucially though, through the process, I discovered my own biases. I realized I have a heavy bias toward bold pastel colours and watercolours. I have a huge bias toward anything that stands out on white – which I found very strange, given my recent affection toward using Dark Mode on pretty much every application I use on my laptop. I also realized that I’m not a fan of too much colour. Just a splash. It almost felt as though these biases were literal reflections of my own personality. There are some moments where I feel like I can be shades of whatever I choose to be, but for the most part, I prefer the monochrome. I also understood how incredible Pinterest and Coolors are, for inspiration. There are so many tools out there – and I know that one day, I’d like to be able to design everything my heart desires. It’s a very satisfying feeling.
The last thing I remembered while doing all this was something I discussed with my mom when I was in Grade 9. I had just started attending Model UN conferences and wearing formal clothing outside of school. One of the things that stood out to me when I was younger was how boring the boys’ wardrobes were. I told my mom then, that I really wanted to have an expressive, colourful formal wardrobe. The irony of going to law school and becoming a lawyer is not lost on me. Hopefully academia is more accepting of colours.
This is why I’m glad ties and lapel pins exist. And funky socks.Anyway, the redesign is now done – and I am so pleased with it all. Long may this blog continue documenting parts of my life.
Over the past week, I’ve rediscovered and acted on my desire to play tennis again, thanks in large part to finding a hitting partner who was willing to play as well.
The first time I learned how to count score in tennis was the Wimbledon 2005 Final. I was in Pune then, and Federer played Roddick that year. All of us watched that match as a family, and it was my chikappa who taught me how to keep score. Eventually, it became a game, where after the point was done, I would yell out what the score should be and we’d confirm if I was right by using the television graphics. A large portion of this was quite confusing to me, because the multiplication tables I learned for 15 had 15-30-45, while scores went 15-30-40.
I only properly began to follow the sport once we moved to India though. The 2008 Wimbledon tournament was the first sporting event I saw after our move here. Given the community I reside in is filled with tennis fans, it was easy to grasp why the sport was so beautiful and fun to watch. I understood how points were constructed, and Uncles routinely provided commentary on matches that had recently transpired when we met up.
I can’t place a finger on when, or how, I picked up the sport. Before moving to India, we bought a set of tennis racquets because the community we moved to had tennis courts, and we wanted to be able to join into any games that happened. This was definitely my parents’ idea. The community here was so small, that initially there were only 4 of us who were the same age. 2 of us, who ended up becoming classmates a few years later, used to go around to the tennis courts and mess around at half court with these colourful tennis balls I had at the time. We had no idea how to play “technically”, but we got to run around and hit a ball across from each other, which was extremely enjoyable. What stood out beyond that for us was the satisfaction of being able to craft our own rules – the one I clearly remember is that we refused to follow the Singles Court dimensions, and included the Doubles lines for where all we could hit the ball.
It was probably in the middle of Grade 8 that my parents purchased a tennis racquet for me and decided to put me for tennis coaching. The program ran within my community, and was run by a very close friend of my parents, so it was fairly easy to get going. From the beginning of 2011, then, my weekends were filled with an hour or two of tennis each morning, and then an hour or two of basketball. It was a fantastic 3 and a half year stretch of playing the game with a Coach. The Uncle who ran the program was one of the first people I actually played with in the community – my parents told him how much I loved field hockey, and we had met up twice and played at the end of his lane, passing the ball to each other and dribbling around, which was rather fun.
I hated waking up early on the weekends, so my mother was faced with the task of helping me beat my inertia. I was fine once I got out of bed, but that struggle was real. I think coaching started at 7:30AM or something, which was an absurdly early time for me on a Saturday morning, especially given how after piano classes on Fridays, I’d only go to bed around 10:30PM, or 11PM – which was very late back in the day. I look back at that time now and wonder how Uncle had the motivation to wake up early in the morning to coach kids for tennis. I think what I’m struck by the most is how much he must’ve enjoyed it, and enjoyed being active, to wake up so early on his weekends.
Naturally, coaching brought with it some seriousness. When I started off, I used to lose to younger kids who had been playing for longer – something I disliked. Eventually, those small things started becoming goals: I need to be able to actually rally with this person, forget playing with them competitively. I found inspiration from this boy who was in Grade 4 at the time (he’s now graduated from high school), who played (and still plays) with his dad really frequently – almost every other evening, I would say. He was ridiculously consistent with his stroke-making, and it took very, very long to either fatigue him, by which point, you were too fatigued to think straight.
Tennis also taught me how to be really patient. There was this one kid who excelled at hitting deep, high, top-spin shots, so the ball would clear the net at an absurd height, bounce, and then spin even higher – taking away, for a player of my skill level, any opportunity to control the ball on return. I’d try to hit the ball with a lot of speed to eliminate any chance they had to return it similarly, but mess up because of a lack of control. The other way I learned patience was in picking up tennis balls after the exercises. There were usually just 2 or 3 of us in our age group playing, so there was a lot of balls to collect to get the chance to play again. That was a slow, painful process. Being lazy to bend down and pick them up didn’t make it any easier.
My fitness level, which is not very great at all, always betrayed me. I never worked consciously on improving my stamina, hoping it would happen along the way, but, as I know now, that doesn’t happen. I remember losing inter-house matches at school in Grade 10 despite having gone for coaching for 2 years and feeling terrible about it, but trying to laugh it off. It was only a year after that, where I managed to play some other tournament hosted by the coaching group I attended, and do reasonably okay at that, in the presence of my parents, that I felt like I had made progress with the sport.
It’s around then that I gave it up. Academics and my other extracurricular passions became a convenient excuse at school. At University, life was a convenient excuse – I enjoyed other things a little more than I thought I’d enjoy tennis. I came home several times, and throughout my life at that point, I had always played a team sport and an individual racquet sport, but at University, I didn’t do either properly. I never carried racquets back, so I had no external motivation either. One evening in third year I played with a friend of mine, but naturally, with the break, I was abysmal.
Naturally, picking it up again this week has felt really good. I’m getting to spend time with a friend of mine, and getting some exercise in while I’m at it. We’re both navigating the art of recovering something embedded deep in our muscle memory (this is especially true of the serve, because phrases like the trophy position, pronation, and the continental grip are stuck in our brains), and messing up terribly on some occasions. We’re having fun though, and that’s worth every bit of the time we spend on court. To paraphrase Elton John, “Oh no no, I’m a racquet man“
- Home Court Advantage
Last evening I stepped onto the basketball court within the complex I reside in, ball in hand, to do some shooting drills. I’ve been experimenting with the idea of doing this over the past week, thinking about all the precautions I need to be taking while I’m at it. Speaking to friends about the idea gave me a lot of ideas, and taking the plunge felt great. It’s been about 3 years since I last played on the court here consistently. I used to try getting up before my internship and shooting hoops each day before I went to work when I worked at a place close to home. That was good fun.
This is the first time I’ve picked up a basketball in over a year, easily. Last time I played was probably April 2019 or something, where we had the interbatch tournament at University.
Shooting around for a bit felt really good, yesterday. I instantly felt like I had lost power in my wrist, and that I had to support the ball at all times with my weaker/guiding hand. I didn’t have the range that I did earlier at all, nor the accuracy. It was just me, the ball, and the court though. With earphones on, it felt incredibly blissful. It got me thinking about all the conversations I’ve had about basketball in recent weeks.
One of my closest friends from law school circles is a prolific, passionate basketball player, who studied in Bangalore. Just last week we were talking about the tournaments we went to, and we discovered I attended a tournament he was in charge of organizing, and he came to our community to participate in the inter-community tournaments our coach used to host (you can read about those here). So we met each other in Grade 9, and then probably came within inches of meeting each other again in Grade 12, but only actually met at University, and kept in touch ever since. He’s one of the few people I talk to every day. That discovery showed me how small Bangalore really is, but also how I may have just-missed so many people in my life in the past, only meeting them when we were both at the right place, at the right time.
Standing on the court made me think of that again. I’ve met so many really cool people through basketball, and my school friends and I are close because of how terrible we were as a basketball team, but how much we enjoyed playing the sport each day. Honestly, if you saw how seriously we took our games during the PE period, and during lunch sometimes, or even when we were messing around, I don’t think you’d think we were all terrible players. It got very intense. It’s one of those memories that you know you can hold on to even when everything you’re striving for goes wrong: that if you love doing something, the results hardly matter because the journey is far more enjoyable. We won only one basketball game as a school team, in 4 years of playing the sport together. We won a medal because we got a walkover. It was honestly absurd. We complained, became unmotivated, but continued going for tournaments anyway.
The other thing that came almost naturally to me was the drills themselves. I didn’t have to think about them as much. The movement was sluggish, and the scores were abysmal, but everything felt like muscle memory. Every single movement I made, every shot I took, and every angle I stood at felt like it came from someplace wired deep within my brain. Professional athletes must feel like this every time they play a match, what with the amount of practice they put in and the number of years they’ve practised. It felt mathematical and methodical. The drills my coach taught me were based on breaking up the shooting arc into parts and figuring out exactly what angle, speed and height you had to release the ball at to get that “perfect” shot.
The reason I enjoyed this so much was that during the initial years basketball coaching was offered within my community, I was the only boy who went for classes, and the only person in the “above 10” age group. As a result, for quite some time, my drills were separate. They were things I did alone, with the coach monitoring and instructing. This was especially true after classes when coach didn’t have to rush off anywhere else. He just hung out with me, and I’d end up going home sometime only around noon, when I used to leave home at 7:30AM for tennis coaching followed by basketball. Playing alone brings that back. That comfort of knowing so much is within your control.
It was beautiful. I may not play as regularly anymore but I don’t want to forget how much I enjoy the game. I don’t want to forget how much I gained from my home court, and the kind of confidence I feel when I’m home.
- La Madre
Yesterday was your birthday. Over the past two years, I’ve been in Dubai to celebrate it with you. One year we’ve gone to Bollywood Park and had a full day out as a family, and another we’ve gone out to a wonderful dinner to share in your joy. This year I was not there, and it’s the first time in a while that I haven’t gotten to see you up-close, behaving like a giddy child and excited by the smallest of things on your special day. I’m glad we did what we did though. The zoom sessions, a free-entry/free-exit policy! The entire thing made it feel like it was a real party. Staying online for the entire thing brought me as much joy as it brought you – mostly because I heard lots of your childhood stories, and people laughed along with you about them.
Every single year I’ve racked my brains to figure out how to make your day memorable. Appa and I have really struggled, especially after all the things you do for us. Let’s take this year only as an example. I was fully prepared to chill at home alone on my birthday, and at the most, consider ordering some outside food. I’ve been home alone for a while now, and while I’ve enjoyed it, you were perhaps the first to sense that maybe I wasn’t a 100% sure I wanted to spend my birthday alone. Chikamma, you and the family figured out all the logistics, Uncle came and picked me up, and I was with them the entire day. But it didn’t stop there. You gave me explicit instructions to stop doing whatever I was doing at midnight and log on to a zoom call with you and Appa. Then you showed a 10-minute video that brought me to tears. It didn’t just make me well up a little the first time I saw it, but I was visibly moved by it each time I played it through the day.
Usually, people make 1-minute videos. Attention economics premises itself on the fact that human attention is a scarce commodity, but boy oh boy do you know how to make me concentrate. You managed to reach out to friends: old, new, surprises – through e-mail, facebook, and Whatsapp! I feel like if I had friends where technology had not fully penetrated, you would have sent them a postcard requesting for their co-operation in this endeavour. You got family to participate, and, you put in the effort to bring it all together, with detailed instructions, illustrations, and learning how to use Windows Movie Maker.
This is not new. It’s just this year’s story.
Do you see how much pressure Appa and I are under?
Which is why I’m glad you take your own initiative in planning your birthday parties. It makes our lives so easy to know that you’ll be happy with everything as long as we follow your instructions and comply with what you’ve envisaged in your head. For us, I think Appa and I are happy to contribute in small ways – helping with your technical setup, proofreading the party invites. Who can forget your 40th birthday celebrations – where we had instructions to play the keyboard, and dance with you, and write a prepared toast!
Just you wait though. One day we will surprise you. I just hope you let us.
Happy Birthday, again!Love, Tejas
- The Cousins
Over this weekend, I had the opportunity to spend time with two of my second cousins from my mother’s side. Most of the time I was with them, while playing with them and participating in everything they wanted to show me, I felt trapped in a bottle of nostalgia.
To understand this you have to understand my family, so I’m going to give you the lowdown. My grandmother is the eldest of four siblings. My mother, as a consequence, is the eldest of all the cousins. If I’m not wrong, there’s around a 15/16 year difference between my mom and her youngest cousin.
That carries through to me. I’m the eldest of my second cousins. I was born in 1998. The next of my second cousins was born in 2008. In those 10 years, I was the only “child” in the family. When I was younger, I used to take these trips to Bangalore for my summer breaks, and while I spent most of my time at my own grandparents’ house, I was essentially in community care: across all my uncles and aunts, and all the grandparents in the family.
However, there’s been a persistent nomenclature issue within the family – so my mom’s generation, for example, call some of their Uncles/Aunts by their first name. As a result, I didn’t append the usual “Tata/Ajji” to their names. Instead, I appended “Uncle”, or “Aunty”. So within the family, and I legitimately feel this happened purely on my mood, or what I heard around me:
- I refer to some of my grandparents as Ajji, and Tata
- Some of them I call Uncle and Aunty.
- Everyone in my mom’s generation except my mom’s sister, I call by their first name
- Everyone who married into the family before 2011 is called Uncle
- Everyone after is called by their first name.
Are you with me? I feel like this would be easier to produce on a family tree/chart. If you’re not with me though, basically, I break convention when it comes to what I call people in the family.
Honestly though, this nomenclature thing? Not too much of an issue also. The only people who I remember complaining were the Uncles, rather, the people I called “Uncle”, pre-2011. Apparently, it made them feel old. For the rest, we’ve never discussed what I call them, why I call them that, although we’ve made fun of it a fair amount. The reason I think it’s a non-issue is that the respect is there. Just because I call them Uncle instead of Tata doesn’t mean I don’t respect their seniority within the family, or that I won’t listen to what they have to say with an open mind.
The reason all of this was important was that everyone in my mom’s generation was called by their first names, right? That’s also because when I was at my grandparents’ place, literally all the cousins would come and play with me, or hang out with me, entertain me, and indulge in every single activity I was indulging in. With the age gap at the time, even though I knew they were my mom’s cousins, I always felt like a younger sibling to them all. Before I went to meet my second cousins, I felt this sudden jolt of realization – that to my second cousins, the age gap is very similar. We’re in the same generation, but in essence, I’d be interacting with them with a similar age gap to when my mom’s cousins spent time with me.
So, of course, my first question was, what will they call me? Am I just Tejas or am I Tejas anna, or will I be called something else? My chikamma and I discussed this before I went there and we were both equally curious about this. This is because I’ve been away from Bangalore for 5 years, and prior to that, what with exams and all, I haven’t properly spent time with my second cousins. Never before have I had the opportunity to just go hang out with them and get to know them. While Zoom meet-ups have offered up the opportunity in the lockdown to interact with most of them, even those we’re far away from, nothing compares to meeting everyone face-to-face.
Turns out I’m Tejas anna.
We did a lot of fun things when I met them. We played a lot of Xbox, where they showed me their favourite games and how they played them (I was thrilled to be with a console again). I helped the younger of the two figure out how his elder brother was beating him on motorsport games (which basically involved picking the fastest car and the track he knew well – and not allowing them to play on any other track, hilarious!). We played a lot of Uno, where there was a lot of “rewinding” and reversal of moves. I lost nicely in chess. They showed me around where they hang out with their friends. Of all this, the bonding that happened over videogames, a hobby I’ve also only recently taken to, was the most enjoyable for us all. They play the same games I play with my friends, and they beat me at it too.
It was then that nostalgia hit the hardest. I discovered the wonderful world of computer games while sitting with one of my mom’s youngest cousins on his computer. He showed me Need for Speed, and at that time, burned me CD’s to take home, install the game on my grandfather’s laptop and play. I still have all those CD’s – every single one of them. He taught me the rules to Pool and Snooker through a game called Cue Club. He made me my first social media account – on Orkut, and him and his sister bought me a lot of Coca-Cola and Thums Up, and bakery snacks, while also showing me my first Kannada movie ever. During my teenage years I always wondered what 20-year olds took out of hanging out with people who were barely into their double digits. It’s now that I realize how much affection and love I was showered with when I was younger, and how, honestly – they could have pretty much chosen to do anything else with their time, but they hung out with me. I’m really hoping I get to recreate that with their children too. See, they’re cool enough to introduce them to all these games and everything anyway, so I need to figure out what “cool” thing I can bring to the table.
I also helped out with studies, if you would believe. Well, to be honest, of course I did. That sprung another round of nostalgia – for all the holiday homework I never did during my childhood, and how much all my mom’s cousins and my grandparents (all of them) had to try to get me to do bits and pieces of it before I went back home to Dubai. I was not half as cooperative as my second cousins, and I’d put everything off to “tomorrow”, which ended up being the last day of vacations. Procrastination is a key character trait, one that developed early, as you can see.
My greatest rediscovery of the weekend though was Lego. I missed Legos so much. I’ve written about Lego before, but it’s only when you play with it that you realize how much time you can just spend with Lego sets, and how creative you can get with them. We made a short stop-motion film with 10 photos of a whale, and messed around with Lego sets a lot. I think they must’ve built, from scratch, at least 6 things over the weekend.
All of this is about my cousins though. My mom’s cousins also “grew up”, right? As time’s passed by, naturally they’ve gotten busy with work and with their families, and I’ve been busy with things too, exams for the most part. The result of this is that after I moved to Bangalore, my contact time with them reduced significantly. I feel like I definitely saw them more – both frequency-wise and concentrated amount wise when I was on my summer breaks. So this gave me a chance to spend time with one of them once more.
That was nice. We recounted what has to be the most famous story within the family, the “accelerator cut off” incident. This was the TVS Champ era, and in the electrical system gave way, leading to the bike stalling. My aunt carried me home in her arms, and went back to collect the bike from where it stalled. By that time, in my excitement, all I had managed to reveal to the public was “accelerator cut off”, complete with hand gestures. That’s remained an illustration of how articulate I can be when I want to. I learned so much more about them – questions I’ve never asked them about, about their hobbies, their interests. And of course, I got to meet my Uncle – someone again, I’ve met rarely. I rediscovered what an incredible cook he was and how much experimentation he did, effortlessly. That aside, I also learned about him and how good he is at videogames too. With adults whom I’ve only previously spent time with as a child, its the time now that I feel like I get to know who they are a little.
Too much nostalgia happened for one weekend. I also feel much older than I did before the weekend transpired. This elder brother/brother role, in general, is a new one for me. I’m curious to see how it develops. I don’t know who I’d be without my Bangalore trips, without all the time I spent with my extended family when I was younger. So many preferences were formed then: eating saaru, requesting for chitranna, gulab jamuns, and watching Test match cricket for the full day. I can’t forget some of the gifts I got at the time, including a chimpanzee that just hangs out with me in my room to this day. I’m so grateful, and it’s so nice we can all be a part of that, even if in a small way, for someone else.
- Sporty Feelings
As an avid sports fan, I often cross over the line of respecting sportspeople and not hating on teams and persons associated with these teams. For example, I support Manchester United, and I am a fan of the Red Bull driving program, but Sebastian Vettel (and consequently, at present, Ferrari) as a driver. Consequently, for me, it’s almost a natural response to resent Liverpool Football Club and Manchester City, and despise the fact that Lewis Hamilton and Mercedes are winning so consistently. As a fan of the Los Angeles Lakers, I’m extremely disappointed that another team has dominated the NBA for so long, and as a Royal Challengers Bangalore supporter, it is disheartening to see Chennai Super Kings and Mumbai Indians do well year after year.
I’m going to focus this entry on individual personalities. Over the course of the last two years, as Lewis Hamilton wrapped up his fifth and sixth Drivers World Championship titles, I’ve grown increasingly disgruntled with seeing him win so regularly. I’ve watched a lot of videos, and with Formula One in particular – and this can be extended to several sports, there is a lot of effort put in by the team (in the construction of the chassis, for example) that complement the driver’s ability to drive quick. What becomes clear is that Hamilton’s dominance is down to there being perfect harmony, efficiency and success across both fronts. I noticed that I was getting frustrated at him for winning because Vettel was fading in comparison. I also particularly disliked listening to the “Get in there, Lewis!” that I was forced to hear at the end of pretty much every race I watched. In a very weird way, I found myself developing this feeling of contempt toward Lewis Hamilton. Similarly, when the Roger Federer-Rafael Nadal rivalry was at it’s peak, I found myself disliking Rafael Nadal (a position that has changed considerably). Recounting a list of sportspeople I have, at some point, disliked, is far too tedious an exercise.
Essentially though, I’m fairly certain these sportspeople could not care less for my opinion. I am just a consumer of the entertainment they put on at differing levels of sporting talent and ability. So as Formula One is about to make a return, and with the things that have happened over the last couple of months, I’ve found myself wondering: Where does my dislike stem from? Is it worth it?
This essay at its core will attempt to address that question. If you want to stop reading here, the answer is: No, not worth it. Stems out of strong passion for team/personality I support for sporting ability owing to playing style/success/joy received while watching said team/personality.
Essentially, like I’ve outlined above, it feels like any dislike I develop only appears after I develop a preference for a team or a person. Supporting Vettel between 2010 and 2013 was essentially not liking Alonso to win a race (despite knowing how talented he is as a driver). It doesn’t come from anything else, usually. Unless I see repeated instances of individuals and public figures doing things I disagree with: that’s another reason I usually find it difficult to like them.
The reason I think it’s not worth holding onto those feelings anymore, stems out of something bigger. This period, the coronavirus period, has given me the chance to really think about how I look at sports and entertainment and public figures generally. It’s become more evident now than it was before that these individuals have personal and private lives – lives that some of them have opened up to us, and some of them have left closed to us over the past few months. They’re all incredibly talented as sportspeople to be at the pinnacle of their sports, but it’s this personal side that’s really shone through recently. Holding on to the dislike, I found it difficult to understand the kind of projects that these drivers, for example, commit themselves to in their free time, and the kind of things they think about and express outside of Formula One. Something I noticed was when some celebrity I disliked expressed an opinion I agreed with on an issue, my brain seemed to switch on a “be wary” mode, that claimed “oh they’re doing it for the PR”, while an identical statement by somebody I liked already led to the “oh good on you for showing support” mode.
I don’t think that should happen.
Now, how do I reconcile this with being a sports fan with clear preferences?
I think I’m going to appreciate sporting talent more – become a little more objective. While this is hopefully not going to lessen the amount of passion I have for the club/individual I support, I think I’m going to appreciate talent and skill far more now. Offer compliments and say good things when someone I don’t support wins (unless there’s genuinely something to be ticked off about). What I’m hoping this will do is reduce the amount of distaste I have for them. It’s too negative a feeling to hold on to.
The second is to observe the kinds of things these individuals do away from their primary arenas if they choose to share it with us. A lot of individuals may do things they don’t share with us, but several of these public figures have public platforms – and they can use these positions to influence so many things around the world. A lot of them do, and I’m woefully unaware of those happenings, of the kind of good they’re attempting to generate with their spheres of influence. I’d like to follow that more keenly, if nothing, to understand who these people are more – because they’re just like us – they’re people. None of them have done anything directly to hurt me: so I don’t think I should hold any negative sentiment against them.
A recent example of this is looking at everything Lewis Hamilton did. I’m glad he spoke up when he did, and he’s got a lot of conversation in the paddock about the exclusivity of Formula One, which is already financially inaccessible to so many individuals. There’s a broader conversation about diversity it’s triggered off, and I do have a heightened level of appreciation for Lewis off-track for how incredibly he seems to have matured over his career learning from his past, and how he manages so many things at one go without letting them affect his main passions. I’d like to learn that. There’s also the six world championships which I have to admit come out of a level of domination we haven’t seen in a while. He’s in a class of his own at the moment.
I really don’t know why I’m trying to be so objective about something that incites so many emotions in me. I’ve cried when the team I’ve supported has lost Test matches in cricket. I didn’t sleep when the Netherlands lost the 2010 World Cup Final and I was supremely ticked off the day after India lost the 2017 Champions Trophy Final. All of those, however are examples of chances being grasped at better than the opposition. I’ve got to admire and respect that.
A large portion of this thinking is also inspired by “Hate to Love” on the Cricket Monthly, the AB de Villiers edition is here.
- Take A Walk
Yep, the title of this post bears resemblance to the Passion Pit song. I’m sensing a theme with my writing in the sense that I tend to get into the rhythm of things whenever the story I’m writing about has a connection to music. Maybe it’s the rhythm of the song, the memory of the song, or even something as simple as the fact that this song is now playing on loop while I write this blog entry. Whatever it is, it works, and today, I’m grateful for it.
The thing I’ve been most disappointed by as a result of not writing regularly is how there’s no physical record of how I’ve spent each day in the last month. I love that about writing – about documenting. It helps me remember each day distinctly. I know I’ve been productive, there’s been a lot happening: spring cleaning, house repairs, a lot of thinking, and a fair amount of learning at the end of each day. It’s unfortunate not all of it was succesfully documented. Nonetheless, it’s integral that I look forward to all the things I will get to document soon.
Over the last two months, something I missed was the freedom of walking to places. I enjoy walking. When we visited New York, and when I took a trip through Netherlands and Germany, I was amazed by the amount I ended up learning about the city and the feel/vibe of the place by walking along the footpath and following a map till I reached my destination. I equally enjoyed exploring places with just the informational booklet and maybe an audio-guide with me, instead of tour guides showing me around. It just felt more organic, like my interaction with the environment I was surrounded by was not limited by how much another individual was willing to part with. So over the last two months, I’ve just missed the freedom of vast expanses I could explore – even paths I’ve tread on before.
Earlier this week, I had the first opportunity to step out. To do chores, no less, but step outside of my community by foot – to explore my neighbourhood once more, while taking the necessary precautions of course. I’ve never walked this stretch before in my life. Usually, I walk bits and pieces of the entire stretch – to get to a bus stop, or even go to the bakery outside the complex with my friends when they’re all around. I stepped out of the house to do bank work, and it was on that walk that I thought about how much the neighbourhood had changed since we first moved in.
It’s getting closer and closer to 12 years since we relocated from Dubai to Bangalore, and something I’ve been quite vocal about is how protected I’ve been inside my gated community. When we first moved here, the place I live in pretty much had nothing surrounding it. The closest proper grocery shop was about 7 kilometers away, and you had to plan really carefully while stepping out so you finished all your work before getting back, just because of how inconvenient it was. The walk I took showed me the reality of today. Literally anything I could imagine or ever need was within the walking distance: from necessities like electrical supplies and staples (for which there are multiple vendors) to luxuries like bakery goods and fast food. I could walk and get everything I wanted.
I generally use my time in Bangalore to bring to my parents’ attention that I wish I could drive our old Toyota Liva. I miss that car dearly. In the current circumstances with the coronavirus and the lack of public transport especially, I think the ease of access with a vehicle to move around (I could do with a scooter too!) was something I’ve brought up a couple of times, much to my parents’ dismay. It’s all a big joke – I’m very pleased they disposed of the car when they did, we had no immediate, urgent use for it. The thing I realized on the walk though, is that if we did indeed have a vehicle with us, I’d never take a walk like that.
It’s been a whole week since I took that walk, and a week since I started writing this blogpost. It’s the first post I left in my drafts for far too long, but actually completed, instead of trashing because it lost it’s relevance in my life. Since last Monday, I’ve taken these long walks every evening.
I love these walks. They get me out of the house, and they give me one hour to listen to an audiobook in peace, catch up on phone calls, and finish a bunch of other things I’d feel like procrastinating if I was in the house. Obviously there’s the fresh air and all that good stuff too.
The one thing I have mixed feelings about is that I’m becoming a pakka Bangalorean again. Three months can change you so much. Given the trope, I’ve generally resisted talking about Bangalore weather with people, even though I do boast about how wonderful it is on occassion. My roommate from college loves Bangalore weather far too much because of what his other friends have told him about it. Now, I can’t stop talking about it. I begin conversations with my parents every evening telling them how wonderful it is right now, how pleasant, how airy. My friend from Gurgaon tells me he’s suffering in some 40 degree heat, and I’m so grateful I escaped from Ahmedabad’s summer because here, the weather is the perfect representation of the Goldilocks principle. It isn’t too bright nor too gloomy. It isn’t too hot nor too cold. It’s bloody breezy, but it isn’t raining.
It’s just right.
- Exploring Languages
This post stems out of a new course of study I am undertaking: the study of German. This is new for me.
I have some background to German and Germany. My father studied German for a short amount of time while in primary school and was fortunate to visit the country for work (he’s retained quite a bit of his knowledge today). My best friend’s mother taught us both how to count till 10 in German when we were younger, and I joined his family in affectionately calling his grandfather Opa. I can recall other bits and pieces, the 2006 FIFA World Cup being held in Germany definitely prompted an exploration into their history and culture, especially because it overlapped with being introduced to Adolf Hitler in our History lessons at school. I represented Germany at a Model United Nations conference once. Subsequently, in more recent history, I was lucky to be extended the same good fortune of visiting Germany and meeting some friends there.
Additionally, my study of the language is aided significantly by the years I spent studying French and the excellent teaching that I had which grounded my fundamentals in the subject and gave me the confidence to express myself in a tongue foreign to my own make-up. I cannot discount how much of a role that background in a prominent European language from the Romantic school has played in my exploration thus far.
At this moment, I’m roughly two weeks into lessons. So no, I am not a native German speaker, nor am I anywhere close. I do, however believe that if I apply myself appropriately in the next few months, I can gain the skills necessary to go on a lifelong journey of picking up the language. That’s the insight I have at the moment.
Additionally, of course is the fact that I am in love with foreign languages and the kind of things they expose you to. Outside of professional utility, I think studying foreign languages has opened up this window to culture and media consumption like not much else has. It was in school that I read Persepolis on the recommendation of my French teacher, and discovered Corneille, Jean-Baptiste Maunier (of Les Choristes fame), and managed to read Le Petit Prince too. Translated media rarely has the same impact that the original text does, particularly because I do believe there are no perfect translations. The meaning and connotations of words arise out of historical contexts and circumstances that are unique to individual/common cultures, and that is irreplaceable, as much as we strive to make it so.
Turning back, however, to why I think I’ll gain skills to begin a lifelong journey into the language. I don’t think we will ever fully know languages. There are differing levels of proficiency ascribed to the skill at which one can use their ability with the language, and naturally other markers (exams and certificates to proof proficiency, and so on). However, even with our mother tongues and native languages – we will know how much we choose to know, and how much we each individually choose to explore. For the most part, my thinking happens in English. Taking that as my illustrative example, I’m on a continuous path of learning the language more and more – I learn new words even today, words I’ve never come across before. I understand the diverse manner in which these words can be employed to create differing effects. The ordered systems that make up a mode of linguistic communication are things I explore each day I think and use it. That’s true for every language I am exposed to.
Developing that proficiency in German, to consume more media, to carry out more conversations, to use it more frequently – I’m not sure where it will take me. I’m excited to see where it does lead to. I’m very fortunate to have a teacher who understands why I’m studying the language, who encourages me by pushing me to take to the language quickly, and more crucially points out my errors immediately and repeatedly. I am finding out that the classroom is the place to make mistakes and gain confidence. You’re just less likely to make those mistakes in regular conversation that way.
Finally, I’d also like to admit how much this lockdown has helped me brush up and rediscover languages I lost fluency in, while learning new ones. As I’ve chronicled before, the Kannada project is the big one I have going on at the moment. Side projects however, have included Spanish, Italian, and figuring out why on Earth I can read and write the Arabic script but not speak it beyond saying a few phrases. All I hope for is that I tick off more languages off my list.
This is not a sponsored advertisement of any kind for Duolingo, but I need to give credit where it is due. They’ve developed a fantastic, gamified platform that has so much additional content to make the learning enjoyable. The community side of things on the application is also testament to how much languages can connect us all. I’m glad it exists across platforms, and that I’m discovering that too.