Going to the washroom? Be warned!

I don’t know who said it, but I kind of agreed: India is a vast latrine. Everywhere you see across the nation, there are people relieving themselves in open spaces, on railway tracks, at the boundary walls of ill-lit bungalows, near drains on the roadside or just about anywhere they feel they must go.

Of late, however, there has been a shift in the way Indians, especially urban, well-to-do Indians, obey the call of nature when not at home. Thanks to a growing number of restaurants, malls, multiplexes and other concrete contraptions where you can now find toilets, people finally have alternatives to open spaces. In fact, sometimes, it seems too good to be true. Toilets in public places? For Indians?? Wow!!!

But when I look at how the toilets are constructed, and how they are maintained and serviced, the wow factor goes down the flush. Let me give you some examples.

There’s this restaurant I went to one of those weekends when you go to a restaurant to eat out. After a while, I felt the urge to pee and went in search of the rest room. Now, this was a fairly upmarket restaurant with upper-class clientele. But look at their toilet! Soon as I pushed open the door, the commode blocked it from opening fully. One way to get inside the toilet was to clamber onto the pot – there was no space around the pot – and shut the half-open door right back. But there were two dangers in doing so: one, I could be seen in this funny position; two, I could break a bone if I slipped. Neither option appealed to me. So what I did instead was slightly open the door just so to squeeze behind it beside the wall, and then close the door from this spy-like position. I did what I had to do and hurriedly maneuvered my way back out.

Why is it so hard to find a decent sized and utilitarian rest room when you are away from home in India?

Consider another wash room, this one at a spanking new mall. They had done up the toilet nicely, with starry floors and expensive-looking bath fittings – only, they didn’t know how to fit them. Take the faucet of the wash basin, for instance. The curvature of the faucet was so elongated that it jabbed into my face as I lowered it down for washing. “Why can’t they keep things simple if they don’t know how to do it?” I remember cursing under my breath while rubbing my bruised nose.

Another time, as I used the loo at a multiplex, I found that there was no waste bin kept for the toilet paper. Had the builders resigned themselves to the fact that most Indians don’t use the bins anyway and flush the toilet paper down the drain (often clogging it)? And the spray tap they did provide was indeed weird. Because when I pressed the tap, water came out with such formidable force that I nearly drenched myself in the squirt. By the time I trained myself to use the tap with considerable self-control, I was already looking like I had performed the miracle of getting wet in the rain inside an enclosed loo.

The rest rooms are supposed to be places where people can relieve themselves comfortably. What we normally get, alas, are ill-conceived pissing holes. 

But part of the blame for the sorry state of affairs should go to the toilet users as well. We Indians don’t really know how to behave ourselves in public places, even if those places are as private as toilets. So maybe the builders and restaurant owners try to beat us at our own habits. I remember seeing this notice next to a soap dispenser in a restaurant toilet: ‘Push once gently for enough soap.’

“What a cleverly contrived message,” I thought. In one go, it communicated to people about two of their nasty habits: of pounding too much on the push button and of making a mountain of soap on their palms. I have seen many soap-starved chappies collect more than their fair share of soap. Enough soap, in fact, to make do for a whole bath. Not that I ever saw anyone take a bath at the wash basin, but you never know what can happen in the world’s largest democracy! Anyway, I have witnessed far too many people supply themselves with ample soap – and then wash it off their face vigorously by spreading their personal wetness around. One of my most pressing thoughts at such moments: Get out fast.

One novelty that seems to have emerged as a result of toilet users’ nasty habits is the push-type water tap that spits out water for a split-second – often making you wonder if it was indeed water or a bolt of lightning that kissed your hands. You have to push the darned thing several times if you are really serious about rinsing your hands. On second thoughts, it gives you an opportunity to exercise your muscles. But should you be doing so in the wash room? I doubt it. Useful tip: if you do not want to die of irritation at pushing the tap two hundred and forty three times, keep one hand constantly pressed on the tap and do your business with the other one.

Nothing beats the stupid infrared, however, when it comes to inducing irritability in the rest room. I’m sure most of you would’ve noticed infrared-activated flush systems installed in several places. The moment you walk close to the urinal (this one is for men specifically, and I don’t know how or if it works for women), the sensor gets activated in a hurry. Before you know it, water from the flush pipe, which is often funnily positioned and perforated, sprinkles onto your clothes in addition to spurting down the ceramic wall of the urinal. It looks as if the system is peeing at you before you get to pee into the system. This problem is so severe that very few automated flush systems ‘get it right’ – causing me to develop extreme anxiety each time I approach one.

It’s going to take a little while before I either become tolerant of toilets or there’s some sort of revolutionary change in the way toilet makers make toilets and the way people use them. Until then, going to the loo is certainly going to be a pee-vish thing. Hey, can you stop splashing it around, please!

How to visit Maha Kumbh without actually going there

Representative image created with Meta AI

The world’s largest gathering of people, this year at the once-in-12-years Maha Kumbh in Prayagraj in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, is a cauldron of faith, holy folk, spiritual journeys—and unfortunately, tragedy.

The joy people felt when an awe-inspiring illuminated picture of the religious megafest was tweeted by NASA Astronaut Don Pettit from the International Space Station transformed into harrowing images of bodies and belongings strewn around the bathing ghats after a stampede.

Nevertheless, devotees, tourists, and curious folks continue to throng the site for a holy dip in the confluence of two of India’s holiest rivers, Ganga and Yamuna. There’s a third river, too, but that is said to be hidden or invisible (French author Michel Danino has written a book that unpacks the mystery, titled The Lost River: On the Trail of the Sarasvati).

This year’s event is nothing short of a gargantuan drama featuring loudmouth politicians, selfie-seeking celebrities, and pseudo-spiritual wannabes. (Notables include India’s home minister, Amit Shah; Laurene Powell Jobs, Late Steve Jobs’s wife; actor Anupam Kher; and industrialist Gautam Adani.)

As the tales of tragedy follow those of IITian babas, the fierce-but-revered naga sadhus, and beautiful sadhvis, you might be wondering—Should I go, too, after all?—swinging between the twin prospects of (instant?!) nirvana through a holy dip and the mortal fear of getting crushed in the crowds.

Here’s another proposition: Maybe you can try visiting Maha Kumbh without even stepping out of your house. 

I can almost hear you say: “What? Are you crazy? How’s that possible!”

Let me tell you how (to the extent possible in this short post).

Ready for the pilgrimage?

Just be where you are and sit down comfortably. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Sit still, relaxing like this for a while.

Now, if you need to make some adjustments to your posture or surroundings, do it quietly. Then return to sitting down and breathing.

Start to deepen your breaths, bringing your attention to the process of inhaling, holding for a few seconds, exhaling, and again holding for another few seconds before taking the next deep breath, and so on.

You will soon discover that your breathing is rhythmic and calm. The thought-avalanche has subsided to a trickle. And your minor body aches and discomforts have gone. 

The stray thoughts that do come to your mind will dissipate once you bring your attention back to breathing.

Practice like this for 10, 15, 20 minutes. Maybe a little longer if that works (and if you are not in a hurry to go somewhere else before visiting Maha Kumbh!)

Do you know that the rivers Ganga and Yamuna are part of your own being in a way?

The breath flowing through the left nostril is said to pass through what is called the Ida nadi and the one through the right nostril, through Pingala nadi. And Ida and Pingala correspond to Ganga and Yamuna respectively. 

What about Saraswati, you say? 

That would be the Sushumna nadi, which flows—hidden like the mystical river—along the core of the spine.

Nadis are subtle energy channels in the human body that carry prana or the vital breath—72,000 in all, with Ida, Pingala, and Sushmna being the most important or primary nadis.

But why is this relevant?

That’s because the meeting point of Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna is behind the forehead, between the eyebrows (called Trikuti or Triveni point).

This is the inner Maha Kumbh I’m talking about. (The one that hundreds of yoga and tantra adepts have spoken about over the past several centuries in Bharat before it became India.)

With ample practice of meditation and pranayama—what I just described very briefly above—Sushumna, Ida, and Pingala tend to have their own confluence in the human body. 

And when that confluence happens, you realize the futility of going to any physical Maha Kumbh. Forget a hard-fought dip in the melee of Prayagraj, the inner Maha Kumbh makes it possible for you to be drenched in true and abiding bliss—Sat-chit-ananda.

Yes, this may also take 12 years or even more. But it’s worth every breath you take.

At least you won’t get crushed in the madness.

Happy inner journey!

NOTE: If you are interested in knowing more about meditation and pranayama, watch this space for my upcoming book, River of Love: Meditation beyond the App.

Why There's Still Nothing Like Great Mornings

In India the early morning hours, called Brahma Muhurta, are considered auspicious for new initiatives and great beginnings. Even otherwise, there’s something in the morning air that takes you to another level of exalted existence—provided you can shake off the sleep and be up and about this side of 6 a.m.

I used to be an early bird but, somewhere along my worklife, I metamorphosed into a night owl. Even so, every once in a while I chirp up at a respectable morning hour.

Recently I got up around dawn, took one final yawn and, freshening up quickly, made for the nearby park that’s my usual walking heaven.

The moment I found myself in the middle of a grassy patch with peepul, margosa, and ashoka trees, I paused to take it all in. The beautiful, green landscape. The cool breeze. The sound of koels, barbets, mynas.

Sitting down on a bench, I listened. Above the sweet din of birdsong, my ear caught the curious cry of a black kite. I have often wondered at the onomatopoeic symphony that so closely resembles the Hindi name of the raptor. It goes like this: “Chee-eel, chee-eel, chee-eel.” The kite was making slow circles up in the air, probably looking for its first catch of the day down below on the ground. Or maybe it was eyeing me, reciprocating my curiosity!

My attention was diverted by a unique buzzing chorus that was growing in loudness and intensity. I wondered whether it was a swarm of crickets, grasshoppers, or some other insects making those shrill noises. In all probability, they were a bunch of male cicadas out on their annual short sojourn out of the mud, attracting females through what’s called “stridulation.” Later on, when I searched the web, I came across this beautiful article  by Ramya Coushik on the whole shebang. The Britannica entry throws in some amazing tidbits, too (like, each of the 3,000 species of cicadas has a distinct sound; or that they can contract their tymbal muscle, responsible for those screeches, 120 to 480 times a second!).

But let’s not lose our wings in entomology—back to the park and the morning.

Having noticed all that natural drama around me, I did some stretches and settled down to meditate. Most often, I meditate in my room but exercising or meditating out in the open, green surroundings is remarkably different. Your lungs are fuller, your mood lighter, and your spirits higher. Gratitude and love flow more easily from the bottom of your heart.

On this particular occasion, I didn’t have to wait long before I eased deeper into a state of peace and equanimity. I felt healthier and more agile, even though I was barely moving.

When I opened my eyes, the benign sun was just appearing on the horizon. It was the middle of summer but there was still an hour or so before the day would lose its cool to the ferocious glare of the sun.

I surveyed the park before getting up to leave. The crowd of people to make good on their jogging and exercising self-promises had grown. Dog-walkers were jostling for track space with slow-moving uncles and impatient athletes. Not far from where I sat, a group of yoga enthusiasts were folding up their mats. It was apparent from their echoing banter that they had had a good session.

On my way back home, I saw the city wake up in an outburst of laziness and bustle. Reluctant folks bringing milk and groceries; long-distance commuters hurrying up to the nearest metro station, trying to avoid the dust from the mighty sweeps the street cleaners made with their witch-brooms; cows munching on leftovers they shouldn't be eating for producing healthy milk; the neighborhood elder shouting North India's most common salutation as he passed the next house or shop: “Ram-Ram ji!”—each one playing their usual part in the forward march of the day.

Just another great morning in the ongoing drumbeat of time.

How about SLMs - Small Language Models?

 

Image by BNP Design Studio

I know large language models, LLMs as they are called in AI circles, are all the rage these days. But lately, I’ve been thinking of SLMs — small language models.

Not that I’m the first one to think small in this way. For example, when people are angry with each other, they prefer to speak in SLMs.

Exhibit A: The husband has a mere twitch of the lips when the wifey stops him right there. “Shut up! Don’t say a word!” [I wanted to flip the gender stereotype here and wanted the hubby to be saying the shut-up command, but something told me it wouldn’t fly, so I shut that thought out.]

SLMs are especially popular with other (often better) animals than humans. A coo-oo, clack-clack or screech often does the job better than voluminous human speech.

And then, sometimes, the smallness of some models becomes so infinitesimally small that no words — and hence no language, not to speak of models — are required at all.

A sharp look in someone’s direction, a press of the hand on a shoulder that needs pressing in a certain way, or a shared moment in silence is all that is needed.

Sometimes I wonder what’s going to happen with so many towers of LLM babble being created and business models being built on top (models atop models, huh?) We might even be drowning in a frothy alphabet soup without digesting a single letter.

And just as I was going on further with this post, a voice hit out at me from somewhere: “Time to shut up now!” (Thankfully, it’s my own goddamn brain and not a Neuralink implant freaking out.)

I looked at my analog watch and felt happy to see the second hand moving, regardless of what’s going on in the world.

An Open Letter to Putin on Ukraine

Dear Putin,

The first thing you should know, given the horror of war you’ve needlessly unleashed on your neighbor, is that everyone across the globe must be appalled at how I address you. To much of the civilized, peace-loving world, you are anything but ‘Dear’.

So why do I choose to do that?

Simply because the seeds of war are sown with hate—and if the recent regime changes and global events are any indication, we are already surrounded in enough hate.

Now, the whole world knows the lies you have been telling Russians, most of whom don’t want anything to do with this war you have foisted on them. Just because you believed your own lies of ‘liberating Ukraine’ doesn’t mean the world, in this age of connectivity and social media, would trust what you say—nor would Russians continue to believe you after seeing the images of suffering that must have reached them in gigabytes.

Contrary to your designs, the key object of your derision and hate, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, has now emerged as the heroic, exemplary leader of a people under dictatorial invasion. And what an inspiration he has been! The entire world is saluting him with vicarious pride.

Ukraine’s wish to join NATO and the West’s intent to loosen your stranglehold on gas supplies to Europe have also attracted your ire and aggression.

In case you don’t know already, all this hate and anger is causing great anguish and pain to your own people, the majority of Russians over whom you are said to rule as per your whims and fancies. The very small minority of your compatriots who concur with you would be, of course, in your elite little circle of influence. Did none of them warn you against the consequences of the lies and the power-hungry ambitions?

As the parents in Ukraine grieve over their dead sons and daughters, their counterparts in Russia are reported to be discovering, to their sheer dismay, that their own progeny—some still in their teens—are pulling the triggers at your behest. Russians are also discovering, and will continue to do so in the days and weeks ahead, the dire consequences of crushing economic sanctions being imposed on your country and those who collaborate with its entities.

I’m with the world in condemning your acts of aggression and war that seem set to affect billions in the long run.

But I’m also with the apostles of peace such as Buddha and Gandhi from this nation called India (that knows a thing or two about war, aggression, and holding one’s own with equanimity).

Which is why even though you have surrounded Ukraine with tanks and continue to pound the country’s people with death and suffering, I’m still addressing you as ‘Dear’ and hoping that there’s a modicum of love and understanding left somewhere in that accumulated pile of hate and ire in your heart.

Listen to that voice of love in your own being, Dear Putin, before it is too late. For you.

Namaste. (I bow to the divine in you.)

Om Shantih Shantih. (Let there be peace. Om.)

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.]

Can we #rethink the corporation for a more #compassionate world?

Site where George Floyd was killed. Pic by Fibonacci Blue / Creative Commons

Just when we thought the world was in the grip of the novel coronavirus and the virus alone, out poured news, pictures and videos of protests across the US.

Elsewhere in third-world India, the constant stream of weary, hungry and impoverished migrant workers continued their long walk to their respective home villages.

“I can’t breathe,” the choked words of George Floyd from under the knee of Derek Chauvin on a fateful May day in Minneapolis continue to haunt me as also, I’m sure, millions of humans across the globe.

#BlackLivesMatter was trending once again, but not before Floyd succumbed to a combination of factors, including the strain on his neck and chest as the white police officer pressed on for much longer than he should have. Was it necessary at all?

What is necessary, in my humble opinion, in the distraught world of today is for powerful corporations to take up the baton for humanity. A baton that our so-called world leaders seem to have either forsaken or, worse, using it instead to beat down the already oppressed and the underprivileged.

“Why corporations?” one might ask. I know corporations are not designed for the general good or thought to be operating that way, even though most of them have tacked on the CSR label in their annual reports. The key words for them are “profit motive” and “shareholder value.”

Corporations are also known to play it safe (especially in India, for instance) and avoid doing anything or making statements that may put them in the crosshairs of incumbent governments—even if that would be the right thing to do per the prevailing sense of civility, equality or justice.

But there are signs of a groundswell of change. And it is my sincere hope that this wave becomes a force to reckon with and sweeps much of the world for years to come, wherever political and economic oppression takes place.

Is the corporate tide turning?

While some outspoken CEOs and business leaders have made the right noises in the past whenever a widely reported instance of injustice, racial or otherwise, came to light, I think it’s perhaps for the first time a continuing stream of influential voices is visible.

“Corporate America is adding its voice to the protests sweeping the country following the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis police custody, promising to make their companies anti-racist, announcing contributions to civil rights organizations and using words like “abhorrent” and “senseless” to speak out more strongly against police violence and racism” reads the opening graf of a Washington Post report, very aptly headlined “With protests, silence is ‘not an option’ for Corporate America”.

There’s a flurry of activity on Twitter, whose CEO Jack Dorsey has newly emerged as something of a hero (though a controversial one at that) who dared to take on the mighty misinformation machine also known as Donald Trump. Unfortunately, Trump happens to be the current president of the USA, the most powerful nation on earth that so many others look up to.

One indication why I think that things are a bit different this time when it comes to corporations doing their bit, at least in speaking up, is that there’s a whole spreadsheet of statements by some leading tech companies on racial justice, the BLM movement and the Floyd episode. It’s compiled by The Plug (Twitter handle: @tpinsights), a curator of news about black founders and innovators. (While there are several contributors, the owner of the sheet is another Dorsey, Sherrell. The two are not related I think.)

Emphatically coming out in support by such powerful corporations as Apple, Microsoft, Nike, Merck and others, I believe, is the need of the hour. Their millions of employees across the world look up to the leaders at the helm to soothe their collective anger and do something—anything—to set things right.

Talking of my own experience, for instance, I felt good when Girish Mathrubootham, the CEO of Freshworks where I currently work, shared in a town hall that the company opted for a “no-one left behind strategy” when the livelihoods of suppliers and vendors were at risk due to the nationwide lockdown announced in India late March. (It meant continuing to pay those suppliers and vendors during the lockdown, in addition to paying salaries to the regular employees.) 

Different companies would, of course, commit resources differently to a cause, depending on their financial status, reputation and inclination. But knowing that they do care for good causes and for the society at large—and not merely their own assets and short-term profits—is a welcome change in a weird world.

What is making the world increasingly weird, and in fact, inhabitable, is the lust for power and unhindered greed to exploit people and the limited resources of the earth. Covid and racial unrest are, in all probability, merely symbols of a bigger malaise.

I’m not going to cite statistics here, but in the age of information glut available at a click or two, it shouldn’t be difficult to come round to the view that global disparities and inequities are growing alarmingly (barring a few exceptions perhaps, such as the Scandinavian countries). Why, look at the UN’s Human Development Index or the ‘most livable cities’ studies for different countries if you wish. 

All these traits—lust for power, greed, hatred for the other—are nothing new to humanity, I know. But while in earlier times when the people of a land lived by the generosity or cruelty of the king or the queen who ruled them, in an increasingly industrialized and ‘information’ized world, the power to make a difference to the quality and dignity in the lives for tens of millions is getting concentrated in the hands of the giant global corporations. The annual revenue generated by some of them, in fact, rivals or exceeds the gross domestic products of entire countries.

Some of what I’m saying may seem a bit out of sync in a time when nationalism, not globalism, is the new mantra. But I’m not sure if we can simply yank ourselves away from the complex global supply chains and lazy habits we have been honing to perfection all these years. Personally, I think it might do the planet some good to move toward more local setups for manufacturing and food production as well as distribution.

Nevertheless, the growing significance of corporations in their respective regions—and the sway they have with political leaders—may not change all that much anytime soon.

Which is why I believe that corporations can become the new change agents for the society at large. We all know the power of brands, which are owned by corporations. To bring any significant change at an impactful scale, however, they must balance their political influence with the pull of their brands for responsible consumption and the engagement of their employees for effective implementation.

For this to happen, the very structure and purpose of the corporation will have to be rethought and redefined—from profiteering and short-termism to long-term value generation and accountability for wellbeing of most people in their circle of influence. Out goes the quarterly obsession with shareholder value and in comes the drive to improve all stakeholders’ lives. No longer the need for cut-throat competition in a race to the bottom but a welcome coopetition to jointly nudge people toward the pinnacle of human aspirations (which, again, should be measured not in SUV-sizes or GDPs but in terms of happiness and health).

You get the idea.

And when a sufficient number of corporations are able to do that, maybe it becomes possible to weather Covid-like storms more humanely. Maybe the migrant workers will reach their homes in comfort and with dignity. Maybe the likes of Derek Chauvin would be compelled to take their knee off—or better still, wouldn’t feel the need to put it where it didn’t belong in the first place.

In the Name of God

The title of this post is the secondary title of a movie I just saw, the primary one (with the same meaning) being "Khuda ke Liye." Without intending this to be a review of the movie, I must say it's a great attempt to foster a better understanding between Muslims and non-Muslims. The underlying message is that no unethical, wrong or persecutional thing can be - or rather should be - justified in the name of God.

At least for me, the movie has done tremendously well in clearing some of the misconceptions and long-ingrained notions of what true Islam is. The very word means peace with God and a Muslim is one who "submits to God or the will of God". But the big question: Who is God and what is His will? Now that's where all those Muslim clergy - many of them rather than all - cause confusion amongst the impressionable and, often, uneducated, youth all over the world. How many of us have studied Islam and its tenets? (I certainly haven't. And while on my personal beliefs, I haven't studied any scriptures of any religion and am still an "explorer" when it comes to a single God - but that would be a series of blogs! But I do believe in the absolute values of ethics, morality and goodness.)

One sureshot way to multiply hatred is to blame an entire community of the wrongs done by a few. Painting the West morally bankrupt is as bad as calling all Moslems terrorists.

Why do most of us carry on with our ill-conceived notions of people who are "not like us"? Can we pause to understand the other viewpoint and, more important, spread that understanding? I think this might work better than shock and awe or terror and bombs...