Sunday, September 5, 2021

Of Squirrels and Quarrels

 


At first she completely ignored me, though it was she who made the first few advances in her bouncy gait. And when I extended my hand out a little bit, she scampered away as quickly as she had come. I waited a few more seconds before resuming to read a book I had just bought from the nearby market, hoping that she would come again and stay for a while. I found her kinda cute, with a tiny face, a soft body and quick, jerky movements with which she moved about. In our five-second encounter I had even given her a name: Flitty.

Now, as I took out a bit of roti (a round, thin Indian bread made of wheat dough) from the tiffin box in my bag, Flitty appeared again before me, looking more resolute and sure. Learning from my overzealousness in reaching out to her (How I wanted to shake her tiny hand!), this time I remained calm and unmoved. Emboldened, she took a few more quick hops ahead and stood still, barely two feet away from the park bench I was sitting on. Slowly, very slowly, I dropped the piece of roti at her side, without making the slightest sound. True to her name, Flitty made a series of quick twitching turns, as if to run away again. But no, from the trembling of her tiny mouth, I could feel that she was hungry and wouldn’t mind taking the risk of being so near a human for a sweet little morsel. 

So Flitty stayed, snatched the piece of roti lying on the grass with her dexterous hands, and nibbled at it vigorously amid jealous screeches from three or four fellow squirrels who had scented food and were now gathered around us.

Soon enough, besides Flitty and friends, a flock of mynahs and about half-a-dozen crows were chirping and crowing around the trees that surrounded the bench.

I was tempted to throw some biscuits in their direction but held myself in check: it’s generally not advisable to give cooked or processed food to birds and animals as it can upset their health (besides spoiling their habits).

Instead, I sat back and watched the fun riot of squirrels and quarrels all around me.

There was a little mud pool into which some rainwater had collected. The crows, realizing that no food was coming their way, headed toward the pool. One fella hopped inside and splashed the muddy water around, followed by another black dude who seemed quite amused by the spectacle. Their numbers soon swelled into what would collectively make them into a murder of crows—though, obviously, it was frolic rather than murder on their minds. Not that there were no squabbles. Some people just want to grab opportunities out of turn, you know. 

Not far from this frolicking was a string of robust-looking garden ants making their way to the roots of an Ashoka tree. I could see a hole at the bottom of the tree trunk into which they marched and disappeared. From the same hole, another string of ants quickly emerged, carrying bits of rice on top of their heads. This seemed like an efficient supply-chain operation in which the rice thrown by someone near the tree was being supplied to where it was truly needed through a chain of smooth operators.

Like all supply chains, though, there were hiccups. I saw a pug separated from its owner chase away the ants hurrying toward their destination with a snort of its nose and some scratching of its paws. The thought must have entered its head somehow that this rice-redistribution operation must not be allowed to go on. Or so I felt. 

The dog owner soon came looking for his pet, caught hold of the leash, and gently dragged it away. Even as the pug went away, it turned its head and wistfully looked back to where it was having so much fun.

The ants barely broke a sweat and resumed their work on the double.

High up into the thicket of branches of a mango tree, a couple of parrots were fighting with each other—possibly about who had the right to the first bite of a particularly luscious mango. In their apparent struggle to peck first at the fruit, the ripened mango broke free and came to the ground with a soft thud. There it lay for a while, before it was picked up and carried off by a little girl, probably the daughter of one of the laborers working a few meters away with their tools on repaving the footpath.

The parrots came looking for it and, realizing that the object of their affection was claimed by someone they couldn’t fight, shrieked away into the distance.

I buried myself in the book once again, quietly laughing.

Image: Pixabay.com

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

What a quarter century of writing and editing has taught me


 Image by Hannah Olinger for Unsplash

As with all writing, this one began with a blank space. Or rather, with the vast expanse of creative possibility represented by this seemingly “endless page”. (Thank you, Internet, for that.)

Now there are two ways I can do this, the sharing of my experience as a writer-editor for over 25 years. The more obvious and cliched one would be to pen down (key in, actually) the lessons I’ve learned and package them as a listicle: 10 Extraordinary lessons I learned in 25 years of career. Or some such.

This would please a lot of folks and probably fit the bill when it comes to getting the eyeballs and ticking some boxes in search engine optimization.

But hell, no. To be honest, I’ve done my unfair share of writing listicles. And yet, I thought that twenty-flickin’-five years is a pretty long time to be a little more indulgent. A bit reminiscing, perhaps. And a lot more forthcoming certainly.

So this one is a trip down the memory lane combined with fragments of learnings—woven, I hope, with the kind of warp and weft that will keep you interested. Shoot and scoot if you find me boring!

Here goes...

I got my first real job as a copy editor while I was awaiting the results of my postgraduate journalism course. My LinkedIn profile doesn’t mention that company, nor do I intend to name it here (we can take that offline, right?) But I did cut some of my teeth doing industrial-strength editing at this publishing firm. Those were the days of marking copy on paper and then handing it over to a computer operator for corrections. Girl, was I proud of my prowess with editing symbols! (The symbol for deletion was shaped like a ‘d’ with the upper edge slightly hooked; spacing out two wrongly joined letters of the alphabet was the job of a zigzag line plonked in their midst; a double-looped squiggle was used to interchange two letters or words; and so on.)

What gave me a great platform for learning and early boasting rights to a big media brand, however, was DQ. That is short for Dataquest, India’s first computer magazine and, at the height of its prime, the most significant purveyor of happenings in the IT industry in this part of the world. (In those days, the DQ Top 20 parties, where the top players of the industry were feted, were attended by the Who’s Who of Indian IT such as Shiv Nadar and Dewang Mehta.)

There was a small library in one of the three basement offices occupied by Cyber Media, the parent company of DQ, in New Delhi’s Panchsheel Enclave. At that time, DQ had a licensing arrangement with BusinessWeek to republish some of the magazine’s tech articles and a printed copy of the latter was available for Cyberites to borrow and read. I would often grab a new issue of BW and, sometimes, even read it cover to cover, in addition to marking out which article to pick for republishing in the upcoming edition of DQ.

No offence to the DQ writers of those times (by the way, I also wrote occasionally even though my primary role was to edit), but I was in thrall of BW for the magazine’s clarity, clever expressions, and tight editing. For one, I still remember this headline of theirs for an article analyzing AT&T’s choice of an external exec to head the telecom giant. It said: Why AT&T Made An Outside Call.

There was another magazine that I began to greatly admire (just like a lot of journalists do, I believe): The Economist. Curiously, the magazine loves to call itself a paper. But it writes with amazing panache and, often, with what I call “pleasantly irritating” sarcasm—pleasant for the general reader but irksome for the object of their ridicule.

In those days, CNET’s News.com and Wired used to be my go-to sources for all things tech. Now, of course, you have a much wider swathe of media covering tech and much else.

“The more you read, the more you get to learn about great writing” became my personal mantra. I was already “into books”; magazines and websites added more fodder to the fuel that kept me going. Some of the books that have stayed in my heart and mind after all these years: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, Talks on the Gita by Vinoba Bhave, Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, The Outsider by Albert Camus, Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. (For my recent tribute to reading, do check out Why We Love Reading Books.)

Another mantra I have come to live by is that you must first learn the rules before you try to break them—and break them you must, once in a while, to get rid of monotony and keep things from becoming too straight-jacketed. For instance, they tell you in grammar class that you shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition or begin one with a conjunction. But that’s not always true and not something everyone should stick to.

More than the rules of the language, it is what you say and how you say it that matter.

Along the circuitous route of my career, which saw more job switches than many HR pros would recommend, I realized the power and importance of editing. Indeed I was drawn equally to writing and editing. The majority of people working in media are either characterized as writers or editors; only a select few get to be both. I’ve been fortunate and happy to wear these two hats, often simultaneously—despite owning only one head at all times.

Initially, I was hesitant to edit or rewrite somebody else’s copy. How could I be sure of what exactly they meant by something? What if I delete some important parts from the story? Have I really enhanced what was already written? All sorts of doubts used to crop up in my mind.

So I began with careful cuts on the surface. Before long, however, I was making deep gashes. Also, I was reshuffling paragraphs, reviving dead sentences, and adding some flourishes here and there.

I remember that, when such “shenanigans” on my part as a copy editor began, a couple of writers at DQ (and, later, at other media houses I worked with) were really cross with me. They thought I had “murdered” their copy with those gashes and rearrangements, whereas, in reality, I only tried to make their words sing when they were barely speaking. It took some convincing and better reviews of “their writing” by neutral readers to turn the tide in my favor. And you know what? After a while, instead of complaining, they used to specifically request me to edit and polish their stories. Talk about happiness.

In hindsight, I think what has made me a bit successful as an editing professional is the ability to get under the skin of the writer and stay curious about what is being conveyed (in order to fact-check or cross-check, add more “meat”, etc.). You need to be empathetic to both the writer and the reader to be able to do justice to the editing job at hand.

Over the years, I worked with several top media houses in India, including the Times of India Group, the Indian Express Group, and the Hindustan Times Group (mostly in their tech or business publications)—taking each stint as a new learning opportunity. But I was also “daring enough” to work with dotcom startups (remember the original dotcom bubble?) and e-learning organizations. At the latter, I realized the rigor and discipline of delivering “learning content” in a project-managed setting—a far cry from the relatively lazy or haphazard way of working that journalists were often notorious for. 

Some of the work I did, especially at the e-learning startups, was so monotonous that I still shudder at the thought of it. To be fair, the memories also bring smiles for some interesting, enjoyable projects. Among the bad apples (as far as I was concerned) was a course for database administrators that required a lot of monotonous and slightly varying commands to accomplish tasks related to configuring and managing databases. I used to wonder whether DBAs found their jobs as boring as I did mine, checking whether the description of “Do this to do that” was correct or not. All the same, courses on Lean Six Sigma and teaching computers to youngsters in a fun way added moments of relief and even pleasure.

Which brings me to another guiding principle: one must persevere to see something through. Some tasks, even in something that sounds as interesting as writing, can be quite mundane and need to be dealt with just as professionally and thoroughly.

Here, maybe a word or two is warranted about the art of interviewing, an important, nay, indispensable tool in the writer’s repertoire.

I’m particularly reminded of an interview with a senior executive of India Switch Company (ISC), which used to manage the country’s fledgling network of ATMs. For some reason, he had been avoiding being interviewed but finally agreed to give me “not more than 30 minutes”.

Now, I had been wanting to interview him for a story on Indian banks’ modernization for a reputed tech brand, InformationWeek (at that time, it was debuting in India under a tie-up with Jasubhai Digital Media). In those days, there were barely a couple of hundred ATMs (in entire India!) and his inputs as one of the key insiders were going to be quite valuable. So, I went in to meet him nonetheless, armed with all the knowledge about the state of technology deployment at Indian banks. Knowing something decently well gives you confidence, and when I shook hands with that gentleman I sensed that I could “draw him out” with a little effort.

One-and-a-half hours and a couple of cups of coffee later, I was walking out of ISC’s Dadar, Mumbai office with a lot of exciting stuff to write about. I had quizzed him with just the right questions and given a patient hearing to him (though, ironically, he was the one short on time). Having done my homework, I had enough follow-up queries as well—something that he visibly appreciated (the coffee was nice). 

Cut to my present job at Freshworks, where I landed after stints with FactorDaily and Mint. By the way, I just completed two years in this fabulous organization envisioned and propelled by a sweet, caring guy that folks here simply call G (for Girish Mathrubootham, founder and CEO). And I must say I’m happy to play a part in building and enhancing the Freshworks brand globally in the booming SaaS market (SaaS is short for Software as a Service).

I have realized that there are great stories waiting to be discovered and told everywhere: one only needs to look carefully and nourish the opportunities with diligence and love.

Over the years, besides writing on tech and business, I have also been on an inner journey of sorts—through meditation and a deep concern for the environment. While you can find some of my articles on these topics online, I would like to say something I believe is of huge significance. Not that it hasn’t been said before or that a relatively less known writer like me can say it loud enough. But I just can’t leave it unsaid now that I have opened up pretty much.

If there’s one thing the ongoing coronavirus pandemic has taught us, it’s the message that healing is needed super urgently. What we must not forget, however, is that this healing is not only for human beings—even though we may happen to sit atop the species hierarchy—but for the entire planet.

We can’t say this powerful sentence a sufficient number of times, for the luxuries of modern living seem to constantly dull our sense of hearing: THERE IS NO PLANet B.

I know, I know...the ‘Musk’eteers out there are already pointing their cursors (or is it curses?) at me, pointing to their superhero’s impending plans “to colonize Mars”. And Mars, they will tell you, is a planet. (Well, so was Pluto, once upon a time...LOL.)

But seriously, we are running out of time to successfully colonize our neighbors for the majority of the “hooman race” to survive. You don’t have to take my word for it: just look at the recent cataclysmic weather events and some climate change studies if you wish.

Since this post is mostly about writing and editing, let me bring it to a close with these pressing words from a book I’m reading currently: The Future We Choose by Christiana Figueres (former UN Secretary for Climate Change) and Tom Rivett-Carnac (senior political strategist for the Paris Agreement):-

{We are already too far down the road of destruction to be able to ‘solve’ climate change. The atmosphere is by now too loaded with greenhouse gases and the biosphere too altered for us to be able to turn the clock back on global warming and its effects. We, and all our descendants, will live in a world with environmental conditions that are permanently altered. We cannot bring back the extinct species, the melted glaciers, the dead coral reefs, or the destroyed primary forests. The best we can do is keep the changes within a manageable range, staving off total calamity, preventing the disaster that will result from the unchecked rise of emissions. This, at least, might usher us out of the crisis mode. It is the bare minimum that we must do.

But we can also do much more.} 

As a parting remark, I think we can have a couple of billionaires indulge their appetite for space travel and colonization (which may turn out to be good for the very, very long term). But unless a majority of governments and entrepreneurs (tech or otherwise, who like to be called problem-solvers) put a laser-sharp focus on what Christiana and Tom say, most of us will just watch the spectacle of shooting a handful of rockets, escaping not only “the velocity” but a life of misery on the most beautiful planet there is. For much of humanity, there won’t be any escape route.

Humble request: please take the parting shot not as a doomsday lament but as a vaccine for hopeful action. That’s it for now.

Stay safe, stay hopeful, stay motivated and interested.

Thank you for reading. 



Wednesday, June 2, 2021

3 Simple Ways of Practicing Empathy

 


Empathy exists in all human beings, and possibly all sentient beings, as a core emotional trait. But more importantly, empathy can be enhanced and put into improved practice for the betterment of employees, customers and, generally speaking, the society at large.

While the breadth and depth of human experience surely hold multiple ways to express empathy, here are three simple ones.

👟 First, remember the shoe analogy: only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches. This is arguably the gold standard when it comes to empathy. After all, we do repeat it so often in our conversations: “Just try and put yourself in my shoes!” But sometimes the most obvious things become all too easy to miss. Make sure to keep this habit of switching shoes, especially with those showing signs of discomfort.

🦻 Secondly, we can practice empathy just by listening. By being there. By turning an attentive ear to the pain, the grief, the sorrow of others without being judgmental, regardless of how trivial it may seem to us at first. Thankfully, we all can get better at listening: for starters, this article offers some great tips on active-empathetic listening. 

🎁Give more than you earlier thought you would—that’s another great way of showing empathy toward those in need. For example, suppose you had agreed to donate a certain amount to a volunteer group helping out with pandemic relief. So, as one of them comes to you to collect the donation, surprise them by filling out the check with a higher amount than what you had promised.

The delight that we can generate by practicing empathy is priceless.

[The above post first appeared in a Freshworks newsletter.]


Thursday, May 27, 2021

Remembering the Buddha via three simple numbers—3, 4, 8

 


Around five centuries before the birth of Christ, a Hindu prince of the Sakya clan began questioning everything and set out to explore a path to end human suffering. Yes, it was the Buddha, the Enlightened One, indisputably among the greatest teachers who ever walked on Earth.

The Buddha’s message was incredibly simple yet powerful. However, as his words got passed down the generations and as the followers of different streams of Buddhism (Mahayana, Hinayana, Theravada come to mind) multiplied in numbers and their own interpretations of his teachings, things became, well, a wee bit complicated.

So, in the tradition of going back to the source, first-principle thinking, or sticking to the fundamentals, here’s remembering Buddha through three simple numbers.

Three. Becoming a Buddhist is literally as simple as one-two-three—or taking the three ‘refuges’ (devotional pledges). “Buddham sharanam gachhami. Dharmam sharnam gachhami. Sangham sharanam gachhami.”  (I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in Dharma. I take refuge in Sangha.)

Four. That’s right, the Four Noble Truths that the Buddha espoused. There is suffering in the world. The cause of suffering is craving. The suffering can be ended. The way to end it is the Eightfold Path.

Which brings us to the number Eight. The Eightfold Path suggested by the Buddha as a way to end suffering is, again, simple and intuitive: right view, right resolve, right speech, right conduct, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right samadhi

Of course, the crux of being a Buddhist lies in truly practicing the above path. It’s heartening to note that hundreds of millions across the world have been inspired by Buddha’s words of wisdom and compassion, and a great many have been trying to follow in his footsteps. Countless souls have benefited from adopting and adapting at least some of the precepts into their everyday lives.

So let’s try and keep the Buddha in our hearts and memories as much as we can. The world needs him today more than ever.

Monday, January 18, 2021

Why We Love Reading Books

 

Photo by Olia Danilevich from Pexels 


When it comes to books, many of us will identify with Francis Bacon’s famous saying, “Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.” But there’s no denying that for those who “just love books,” they hold enormous power over us.


To this day, I have not come across a higher tribute to the power of a book than this line in Talks on the Gita by Vinoba Bhave: “I have received more nourishment from the Gita than my body has from my mother’s milk.”


The sheer love that Bhagavad Gita evinced in one of India’s well-known social reformers clearly shines through his heartfelt words. 


That line and the childlike simplicity of Vinoba’s interpretation of the Gita’s 18 chapters in the book (which was initially delivered as a series of talks) have remained with me through the years. Permanently digested and absorbed, as it were.


What makes books, books


Books can get us started on an inner journey, inspire us to become great leaders, prod us on to pick up or drop habits, teach something new, or simply entertain us for a while.


Some bestsellers, when they catch the fancy of a Hollywood director, turn into big blockbusters.


There’s something about the term “book” that inspires trust, attracts admiration or instills confidence. For one, a book on a given topic is much more elaborate and “serious sounding” than, say, a social post or an article—after all, someone committed months, years, or even decades, to researching and writing it. Besides, it allows readers to engage in a deeper exploration of something at their own pace, in the comfort of their own space.


Images of readers lost in books and holding their favorite cuppa can be found all around us. Some of them evoke nostalgia or even jealousy, usually in a nice way that makes you resolve to “catch up on your reading” in the not-too-distant future.


Alas, if only wishes were books!


Books may demand more in terms of your time compared to watching a film or listening to a podcast, but once they hook you in and grab you by the lapels of your curiosity and hunger for knowledge and understanding, you can hardly, to use a cliche, put them down. You also find it harder to forget the protagonists, storyline, lessons or insights from a book you really liked.


Again, it’s probably true that films or videos provide a bigger visual feast than books. But it’s also true that books give better wings to your imagination and, if I may dare say, a higher canvas to project your thoughts and ideas.


A look at some of the bestselling books of all time—across genres—enables us to appreciate the breadth of their scope and the depth of their impact. From the Bible to The Lord of the Rings, from Principia Mathematica to Das Kapital, from Romeo and Juliet to A Brief History of Time, from Think and Grow Rich to The Innovator’s Dilemma, from The Origin of Species to the Harry Potter series...books have not only captured much of human knowledge but also kept us going in our constant pursuit of happiness.


Let’s catch glimpses of what a few famous folks have said about books and reading:


“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.” – Jorge Luis Borges


“If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.” – Haruki Murakami


“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero


“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” – Toni Morrison


“Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.” – Gustave Flaubert


“In a good bookroom you feel in some mysterious way that you are absorbing the wisdom contained in all the books through your skin, without even opening them.” – Mark Twain


“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” – Neil Gaiman


“There is more treasure in books than in all the pirate’s loot on Treasure Island.” – Walt Disney


“Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” – Malorie Blackman



A book, to borrow a line from the poet John Keats, is a thing of beauty that is a joy for ever.


Three cheers to books, writers and readers!



(The above post was first published on Freshworks.com.)