With Love, Papa.

Wednesday, 16 June, 2010

My dearest girl,

I do not want to let this day go without leaving its footprint in our memories, for us to one day revisit them with joy, together; I know how much you cried, my dear one, and I know how painful those moments must have been for you, not knowing how little is its size when we look at it through our ‘experienced’ eyes!!

Dear girl, I miss being there with you; I miss the opportunity to unfold your new dress and dress you up while telling you stories of what you will have there as you reach, the songs and the plays in the middle of possible chaos. I miss the opportunity to tell you, my dearest one, to join the group that will be singing, and to be careful with the group that will be playing, and to not join the group that will be causing chaos on this first day of a long journey that you are embarking on.
That applies to your ‘life’ too; look out for the groups that are merry from the songs they carry in their hearts, and have in your heart melodious harmony, my love; watch your steps and have them firm on the ground to be safe from the pushing and shoving of those who take it as a ‘game’, dear girl; and learn to keep your distance from those who are causing chaos in the community, in whatever names and labels.

Bicycle, teddy bears, crayons and clothes, it wasn’t hard at all for us to buy them for you; but you ask us a piece of future, my darling, all we can do is to show you perhaps the direction, but it is in your little hands that you will hold the pencils now that you design your future. Oh girl, I am still designing, a future for me, a future for us! Designing and redesigning is sometimes the journey itself, and in it we must find joy of life. And in that pencil is a lesson for us and I will share with you this story. A pencil, it must write in hard and soft surfaces alike; in tough times and in good times, live we must. It can draw, and if you draw something wrong, use the eraser and redraw, but continue drawing; to do mistake is fine, erase them with righteousness and continue living. It’s not the colour of the pencil, but it is what is inside that makes a difference; no matter your shape and colour and height, sweetheart, it is what is in your heart and the wisdom of your mind that makes a difference.

And be guided by the light-house that’s so bright and shining for you – your mother. Take your mother’s character as a role model for you to live; take my mother’s strength of mind and raw ability to endure the ruggedness of this otherwise beautiful life as your bookmarks of reference when in need; take from me perhaps the strength of love and compassion I have for you, to love and be compassionate to others whom you meet in life. Toil a lot for measured laughter, for you will harvest in multiples; waste not your tears, for they won’t even grow a weed, let alone relationship.

I love you, my dearest girl, and I am holding your hands from this distance with my eyes closed, as you take your first steps on this first day to your school…. on the 16th of this June of 2010.

If I am not there with you today, my ‘kunthiri’ darling, it is but for you…

With lot of hopes, and with lot more of love.
Papa.
(Shahir)


Ps : Today, 16th of June 2010 is Mariam’s first day at school.

She's so special.

More than my greetings for her on this special day, I am thoughtful of the intensity of my prayers to have her for me, for many many more years to come; more than my greeting for her, I am thoughtful of whether my greeting will remind her of the years gone by, the many losses in return for few riches, the many falls and the few rises, the many pains and the little gains, and the perceived challenges ahead in life! Will that make her sit and think, all alone…, because I wished her today!!

There are times when I look at others, who live with theirs, taking out…even at their old age, wrinkled skins and shoulders bent, silver hair and can hardly hear, and I wonder, if it can be for them, O God, please be kind to grand me this wish, that I have a lifetime to live with her.

I don’t want to leave this world, leaving her behind me, for I can’t think of an image of her swallowing tears, sitting leaning on the wall, from the pain of seeing me go; I don’t want her to leave me earlier either, for I can’t think of how painful it would be for me to live through the days and nights with the realization of her absence in my life.

There isn’t a word good enough that I can find to describe my love for her; even that word – love - that has stood tall to describe the legendary relationship the world has seen, doesn’t suffice enough to contain what I carry for her in my heart; is love an intense mix of care, affection, concern, longing, a sense where you want to absorb their pain, a sense where you want to do things that double their joy, one that you wish for them more that you wish for you, a serene sense, an illusion of calmness, the fragrance of all seasons, the sole reserve of beauty, all that and more?

The sensations can’t be any different for you either!

Because, for many like me, mothers are so special; so special beyond definition – their existence has a fathomless meaning that fails definitions; so special beyond the demands of time – their lap are sought after by their children no matter how much they grow or which corner office they hold; so special above the ivy league of universities – the lessons we learn of their endurance and experience of life are beyond the volumes in their libraries; so special, that their endurance are not for them, but for their children; their ambitions are not theirs, but of their children, their steps in life are not to search their destination, but to create a path for their children travelling in search of to theirs!

It’s my mom’s birthday today; and she’s so innocent, she wouldn’t know that, for she has never celebrated one, nor will she celebrate this. All she did was to laugh “Ah! You remember the date!”


Shahir

The Battle of Mind

Naisha has started to ask about me. Poor little girl, so far it was all game and fun for her, no school, travelling and new places, new sights, new dresses and new toys...and now the reality has begun to set in for her little mind that Papa is missing. Usually I am away from home on training trip for a few days or a week, but now she’s beginning to feel my absence. This is longer than usual, and something is different!

Shami explained to her why I am here and they are there – the reasons for why we are away and not together; she had a ‘Hmmm...’ as a response - the language of an enslaved heart when the reasons of mind overpowers the desires of the heart - a 'hmmm' contemplating on the reasons and making sense out of it, and a silence that followed. What must have been the language of her silence! How those thoughts of such silent moments must be effecting her view of life around her; how that view must be moulding her character; how it must be strengthening that little mind, or causing cracks from the unspoken anxiety of the absence of her beloved Papa!

Every time we sleep, she would simply want my hand for her to hold; that’s all what she wanted. How many times she would come and cuddle my face, saying “I love you papa.” How many times she would walk to me, for no reasons, with her arms stretched, and to simply give me a hug and say “I love you Papa.” I know I have responded to all her loving gestures all the time, but when I think of all those moments now, I feel I could have said a word or more, I feel I could have hugged her a moment more, I feel I could have sat with her and fed her with less irritation, perhaps listened to her childish gibberish for a few seconds more…

In that silent ‘hmm…’ contains the nourishment of growth, I believe. In that silence, and the contemplation that of the meaning of words defining the rationale behind our need to stay away, what would have been her thoughts? How would she reflect on it, a few years later? What am I making of her, as a person, by putting her through this patch of life and asking her to endure the truth and its emotions, for no reasons of her!

She carries the weight of her thoughts; and perhaps that’s how her shoulders will become stronger to carry the weight of life gracefully.

In fact what would she want in life? The potential wealth and security that I suppose I am building for her by being away, or the instant joy and the warmth of love and care that she enjoyed while I am with her? What would she have wanted, if she had a way to ask me?

The logic of wellbeing demands that they need for them the security in life by having ‘enough’ to support them. The pulse of heart attempts to scream loudly obliterating the logic of mind, saying it is in love and being together that the life will flourish!

It’s a battle between the pulse of heart and the logic of mind!


Shahir

Word That Powered

It isn’t unusual for the staff to cut corners when their managers are not around, especially when it is in the night shift or those in the early morning shifts where the top management is yet to come.

I decided this morning to do a random inspection by undertaking a house-tour during early morning hours when in normal case no one will expect me around. Among the few areas and standards I was doing a random check, I engaged with one of our associates.

And that’s what I want to share with you. The power of word that powered Uhood!

I engaged her - Uhood - over the phone, disguised as a customer, and she was spot on in meeting all the standards that we would love to see our associates delivering in that position. Eventually, as in the rules of providing feedback – reinforcing a behavior, or coaching – I revealed to her who I am, and why I was calling, and what did I feel about her performance, and congratulated her for ‘delivering our promises’ genuinely sounding in my voice the feeling of delight and consciously choosing enabling and reinforcing words that would strengthen her commitment to sustain that good act of performance.

It all took perhaps less than a minute and half.

But later today I realized how powered and encouraged she had become, from the feedback I got through a few other associates who experienced the radiation of her joy and excitement of receiving an appreciation for something she did right.

What she did was in fact a duty she is bound to perform. However, what made her feel delightful was the fact that her performance was noticed, it was appreciated, and it was recognized. Nida, my Training Coordinator later told me in the evening that she was giving ‘flying kiss’ to her female colleagues as she went home after her shift – an act so unusual of her!

What is the simple lesson? It’s simple as this. Associates are hungry for recognition. They are starving for someone to say a kind word for the right thing they do. And if we really look at it, even those in the senior positions are craving for that little word to come from those who they report to, and it does make a big difference.

Why we don’t do this then? The reason is simple too. We SEE many things but we fail to NOTICE. We see things because we are around by virtue of our positions. However we fail to notice because we are less awake and less conscious. Moreover, we wait for a ‘big’ thing to happen so that we can recognize and celebrate; we wait for a monument of ‘great service’ to be delivered, not realizing the fact that the monument we are waiting to see as built are built with these little bricks of basic things done right.
We can’t look for associates putting off fire every day; we can’t look for associates who performed resuscitation and recovered an injured guest every day. What we can is to ‘catch them do things right’ even if that means it’s their duty to do things right, let alone go extra mile.

Those that are done right, no matter how small they are in size, when recognized and appreciated genuinely, it powers the person to move mountains.

Today, Uhood radiated positive energy, cheerfulness, and warmth to those around her, because of the word that powered her; I am sure that energy would have permeated to those at her home too. Should I say how conscious she will be to deliver more tomorrow as she will come to work, wanting to do more good things. Should I say how she – and many others like her who must be craving for recognition and appreciations, not necessarily ‘rewards – would be transformed as a brand ambassador should such acts be delivered on them by the leaders in a consistent manner?

I am delighted I could make a difference in a day of my associate’s performance. And I wish I will have more opportunities to make others feel delighted, empowered and enabled to deliver greater results.

The Word That Powered, made a difference to her, and to me.

Shahir

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Liberation and Control

A liberated mind is lighter than the mind seeking control.

The other day, I travelled by bus and got down at LIC , Mount Road, walked a few meters ahead to cross the road and reach the Spencers Shopping Centre, and by that time I was profusely sweating. It naturally frustrates. It becomes a cause of irritation. Then I realized, “Hei, what is there to be frustrating and irritating!?” It’s summer. It’s supposed to be hot. In hot season as this, you don’t freeze, you sweat. and that too in Chennai (Madras).

And then on, I realized I felt better as I walked through the pavement, perhaps less irritated from the weather, and began to enjoy the people and sights and sounds around me; for the first time went straight looking for the washroom to wash my hands and face before I get on with the remaining things I wanted to do.

In liberating my mind from the friction of wanting to be cool in a hot summer day, I ‘designed’ as a conscious choice a reasonable comfort through ‘acceptance’, comparing to the amount of frustration and irritation I would have subjected myself to by clinging on to my fight against the law of nature.

How does this apply in other spheres of our life, relationship, management etc?

What is it that I am fighting with, internally? What is it that I am holding on to, that if I liberate it from my clutches of thoughts, it could bring for me better results than what I yield by holding on to it? What am I not doing from fear or anger or sadness or anxiety or frustration, that if I do with the curiosity of a child, could bring for me results that will make feel ‘aha!’ with delight?

When I begin to complain about the loudness around me, can I liberate that anger by reframing my thoughts of that loudness as the ‘sound’ of the dynamic life around me and begin to enjoy the sound– loudness transformed to sound through the process of that liberation? When I begin to get frustrated about the crowded street, can I liberate that frustration by reframing my thought of that crowdedness as ‘tolerance’ of bullock-carts and cars and cattle fitting together to form the eco-system of the community I am living in? When I am concerned about getting drenched in rain, is it not possible to liberate that concern by looking at that as an opportunity to play by making myself accept that it’s OK to play in the rain and it’s OK for the clothes to be wet? Can I develop to hold my ‘emotion’ in seeing a broken vase and my daughter beside, and ‘accept’ that the vase is breakable and it would have broken one or other way now or later, and therefore ‘liberate’ the emotion of ‘anger’ that would otherwise dominate my action?

There are many unnecessary and unproductive ‘locks’ that we lock our minds with, which if we liberate or unlock, I realized, will bring us a better and relaxing feeling of what we otherwise thought as a trouble. The key to unlock is with us: what we tell our selves about what is happening with us, within us and around us. And when what we tell us is affirmative, in acceptance, it becomes easier to partner with it than to fight and conquer.

I just thought I want to write about it, perhaps to bring clarity to my thoughts on ‘liberating the thoughts that has potential to lock our performance’, or to simply write what I feel to write now.

Shahir

In A Glass Box!

Many are standing in different corners, most of them with their heads bowed and eyes fixed on a point on the floor or gazing at nowhere; those who came earlier, are slowly giving space to those who are coming still; many continue to come, everyone finding a corner or a person or a group who are familiar to them, and begins a discussion in whispers about how all that happened, and with their heads nodding in response to the explanations they hear of how it all happened, and how everything changed for a few and how they will need to rewrite the script of their life with the new change!

I just returned from a funeral of someone in my neighborhood who died yesterday as a result of a tragic road accident in a place near Bangalore. Shaji – as he is called by his friends, is of my age, and a dynamic person with a good and wide network of people. The long winding rows of vehicles of people who had come to see his body is an indication of how connected he is with people of Pandikkad (the town I live) and the neighbouring towns and villages. Young and old, men and women, boys and girls, they all stood in silence, in groups, and as reflective individuals, perhaps everyone reflecting on his character, on his little little achievements, sympathizing from distance on the family that he left behind, expressing concerns about the future of his two little children; there were waves of silent prayers in the air, to rest Shaji’s soul in peace.

On my way back, I was seeing myself in that glass box; embalmed, lying straight, neat and in eternal silence!! What if it was me in that box?

Since the time I left this town in 1991, there is hardly a handful of people who would know me, what has transpired in my life since then till now, what I do now and what I have accomplished and what I aspire to accomplish! Because I am not a socializer, I am hardly seen in the common places in the town where the people gather for an evening chat, my time during holidays are mostly at home, immersed in a book or two or working on a project or other with my laptop as my company. My leisure time was spent with family, especially with my mom; it’s only now since I returned to India that I began to start meeting people from in and around, that too in the context of engaging for one or other training program for organizations here.

If in that box it was me who was lying horizontal, will I be given an empty sent-off on my final journey to my ultimate destination? Who would be standing around me in the corners of the room? Will the courtyard of my house be filled with people and will they have anything to remember about my existence around them? How would they remember me? What will they know to reflect on me? What have I given them? How have I touched their lives, while being at a distance?

Because I am their neighbour, the neighbours would know the silent me; because I am their relative, a few of my relatives would know the distant me and even though they do not know me well, they would still be around on that day. Who are my friends? I have hardly any who are ‘real’ friends! They are mostly virtual! Loic or Eric wouldn’t see me on Skype, and gradually the memory of their experience with Shahir would fade in time. Marcelle might send a few emails and live on. Santosh might call after a period of silence. Bander? Somali Ma’m and Shyleshwari and Anil Behal and Murali Nair – they will resign to the thought that I have absconded from the engagements with Orgdyne! Victoria and Violetta and Caroyn and Joseph and Dany – they might feel nostalgic of the few good postings in my blog, and might once or twice wonder the reasons behind the absence!

J.K? Because I wouldn’t be ‘expressing’ anything for days in a row while in the coffin and while being six feet under, and because I am not important and significant in her life anymore professionally or personally, perhaps for a few days she wouldn’t bother to know where I am and what I do; a few days later, she might send a few messages, perhaps sarcastic, on my eternal silence…and when there won’t be a response, she would move on!

I see around me seated, a frail lady with two little girls on her lap – my wife and two daughters. More than the nobility of my character, the agility of her endurance and tolerance is what stood against the test of time. With her is my mother who has seen several ups and downs in her own personal life and witnessed my long journey towards success and the final lap of setbacks. My sister and brothers, and a few friends of my brothers who know me through them…

How eerily silent would that be, that final silent retreat of mine!!

I think I will have to recalculate the mathematics of my life; begin to do a few things I am not comfortable doing but are essential in building a meaningful life! I must seek ways to integrate me more with the community I live in…; there are things I must do…sooner than later.

Imagine if that’s you in that box!!

Shahir.



(Note: If this sounded as "Oh! poor me!", it truly is not the intention. It's a hypothetical analysis of what might be, in reflection of what is in the now.)

Joy of Hope

In between her lines of what keeps her excited these days, Victoria Rose asked me the other day what is keeping me joyous these days.

What’s keeping me joyous these days!

There are times when we hardly realize that there are reasons to be joyous still, in spite of the speed breakers that must be slowing us down from our pursuit of happiness! The question from distance that Victoria threw at me was something that made me ponder, something that made me wonder…

What’s keeping me joyous these days!

One feeling that dominates my thoughts for an answer is the feeling of ‘hope’.

Is it a hope for an unseen future that’s now being modeled from a heap of experience between my fingers as a potter would with his clay?

When the going gets tough and the gaze is fixed on the ceiling attempting to have a peek at the future, ‘hope’ whispers to the ears of our mind the verses of better days to come. When life goes merry-go-round with petals of flowers purple white and red is sprinkled over you from up above, ‘hope’ comes closer to sing for us the jingles and make us crave to live a Sunday more.

In ‘hope’ is the energy; in ‘hope’ is the momentum. It is in it the joy; it is in it the relief. It is the source, and it is the cause.

The joy is springing from a hope that my children will grow to be better than me; the joy is in a hope that the time will bring me back the hearts and minds of those who misinterpreted my language of words and therefore the meaning of my life; the joy is in a hope that the recipe for prosperity is in application of my wisdom; the joy is in remembering the best things I possessed and shared, the best people whose hands I held, and derive from it the energy to make more best and better moments in life.

The joy is in the vibrating nostalgia I carry of the past; the joy is in the dynamic choices I make in the present; the joy is in “who” I am left with than “what” I have in my walk to the future.

The joy is in Living, Loving and Learning.

Shahir