I am currently in admiration of all those who don’t want to be ‘Somebody’. The quiet ones who are doing their own thing, happy in what they do and uncaring that the limelight is far, and so are the reporters.
Nobel prize winner Ramakrishnan said it as it is:
“Last year, the lecture was held in [an auditorium] with a capacity for just 300 people, and half the seats were empty,” said a bemused Dr. Ramakrishnan, facing a jam-packed audience of 3,000 at the university’s Centenary Auditorium. “What has changed? I am still the same person doing the same science. Why are people so impressed when some academy in Sweden gives an award?” he asked.(The Hindu, Dec 22, 2009)
I am wondering as well. What had the 3,000 gone there for? I am sure that 2,700 of them had gone for the Nobel. And 300 for the Prof himself and what he had to say.
Closer home, a friend spoke of a relative, an eminent scientist and winner of many awards, who snuck out to get his awards and quietly returned home without any fanfare.
Life is less complex when you are not jostling for the peripherals, wondering who would beat you in the one-upmanship game.
Life is simple when your standards and your benchmarks are all your own. Then they become easy to achieve without the distraction of a ‘Me Too’ in the public arena, a state-of-mind so complex and complicated that your life and work will never be the same anymore.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The naysayers
Strange are the ways of the naysayers.
When they say no, they mean yes. And I am not talking about the gender thingie.
I am talking about people who say, oh no… we don’t do this or don’t do that. And you discover that they are the ones who are doing it all the time, quietly, under the guise of a ‘no’.
Self-righteousness is the dead give-away.
Like someone recently shook his head gravely at the cutbacks that some members of his fraternity indulged in, and remarked to me, “They give our profession a bad name.”
I am in doubt. Is ‘they’ always someone else? Or is the shadowy third closer home?
When they say no, they mean yes. And I am not talking about the gender thingie.
I am talking about people who say, oh no… we don’t do this or don’t do that. And you discover that they are the ones who are doing it all the time, quietly, under the guise of a ‘no’.
Self-righteousness is the dead give-away.
Like someone recently shook his head gravely at the cutbacks that some members of his fraternity indulged in, and remarked to me, “They give our profession a bad name.”
I am in doubt. Is ‘they’ always someone else? Or is the shadowy third closer home?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Losers, are we?
Over lunch, a friend and I were discussing the politics of social networking. It is a very adept player who succeeds and gets to the top, much like in corporate. You gotta be smart, you gotta know the latest and what keeps you afloat and well… you need the drive to get there.
“I am a loser then,” says my friend, a longstanding bystander in all antics social. Bystanding occurred partly, because it never occurred to him that this particular activity needed active lobbying and an understanding of the dynamics of the ebbs and flows of being on the guest lists of those who matter. So once you have missed the step on that particular carousel, you become a bystander, and the pleasure is all yours as you watch the antics of others. Except in some way, mused the friend, I feel I am losing out on something, can’t put a finger on what.
Once upon a time, all you did was make friends with the people who you liked; or with whom you shared a common interest of some kind; or your life overlapped with in some way(colleagues, neighbours, fitness partners, etc.) You then kind of drifted into circles of socialising with all these different planets, and really, it was no big deal. Until the arrival of the social networker.
From nowhere: This person was there somewhere in the periphery anonymous. One fine day, he wakes up, decides that he needs to be queen bee and throws the party of the month. Viola! Everyone knows him and he’s on everyone’s guest list.
Climber: This particular one begins at the bottom of the ladder and uses all sorts of contingencies and opportunities to work his way to the top.
Vine: Plays second fiddle to every queen bee and thus, is just there, everywhere.
The networker: Knows everyone, actively cultivates everyone including page 3 journos.
While all of the above enjoy pretty permanent status in the social whirl, the one below is usually touch and go.
The sensation: Hops into the limelight through something shocking, scandalous or by merely being in the middle or a controversy. Whether this one has a long shelf life depends on how smart he/she is. Mostly sinks faster than you can say ‘Titanic’.
“I am a loser then,” says my friend, a longstanding bystander in all antics social. Bystanding occurred partly, because it never occurred to him that this particular activity needed active lobbying and an understanding of the dynamics of the ebbs and flows of being on the guest lists of those who matter. So once you have missed the step on that particular carousel, you become a bystander, and the pleasure is all yours as you watch the antics of others. Except in some way, mused the friend, I feel I am losing out on something, can’t put a finger on what.
Once upon a time, all you did was make friends with the people who you liked; or with whom you shared a common interest of some kind; or your life overlapped with in some way(colleagues, neighbours, fitness partners, etc.) You then kind of drifted into circles of socialising with all these different planets, and really, it was no big deal. Until the arrival of the social networker.
From nowhere: This person was there somewhere in the periphery anonymous. One fine day, he wakes up, decides that he needs to be queen bee and throws the party of the month. Viola! Everyone knows him and he’s on everyone’s guest list.
Climber: This particular one begins at the bottom of the ladder and uses all sorts of contingencies and opportunities to work his way to the top.
Vine: Plays second fiddle to every queen bee and thus, is just there, everywhere.
The networker: Knows everyone, actively cultivates everyone including page 3 journos.
While all of the above enjoy pretty permanent status in the social whirl, the one below is usually touch and go.
The sensation: Hops into the limelight through something shocking, scandalous or by merely being in the middle or a controversy. Whether this one has a long shelf life depends on how smart he/she is. Mostly sinks faster than you can say ‘Titanic’.
Why there was a pause…
I don’t know why I have not blogged for the last few months. Is it that there is nothing of significance that I can see? Or is it that there has been too much happening that I cannot sift out the significant from the routine?
The friend who pushed me to resume writing, he has been off my radar for a while as well. Why else, would I completely lack the impetus to put finger to keypad?
But I am back and hope the momentum picks up…
The friend who pushed me to resume writing, he has been off my radar for a while as well. Why else, would I completely lack the impetus to put finger to keypad?
But I am back and hope the momentum picks up…
Monday, December 7, 2009
Bubble boy – a fairy tale
Once upon a time there was a boy who thought differently. As long as he was small and cute he was appreciated for his freshness and unique way of thinking. Everything he said and everything he did seemed wonderful and there was sunshine all around. He could do no wrong.
Then came school. The boy, so used to being encouraged to just be himself was part of the crowd. Now that was not easy. Every time now he asked a question or made a statement, he was looked at strangely. Some even laughed, thinking he was making a joke. But he was not joking at all. It took some time for the boy to realise that something was wrong.
All around him were tables and chairs and things that sat on them. He alone, was a moving ray, catching the sun as it shone from varied angles. He was reflecting the rays and each reflection was unique. But then, these bright lights and their reflections became a pain for those around him. Especially the ones who tried to beat him into shape, into what they thought he should be.
The boy however, was like this flexi bubble: every time he was flattened into a bewildered mass, it took him some time to understand that this was not it. They wanted him flat and biddable, so that they could walk over him and keep him in one place: while all the time, he would get back into his little bubble shape and float upwards. It became a game for the boy: for his controllers, it became a battle of wills.
It could not last long. The fairy tale ended. Or did it begin? We don’t know. The boy learnt to flatten his bubble when he went into the common environment. He tried his best to keep flat and not bubble up – and most of the time he succeeded. Sometimes, little bubbles would pop up about his flat surface threatening to betray him. The flat substance around him would notice and exclaim or be rowdy, slapping him back to flatness. The bubble came back some time later, when he was on his own, lightening up dark evenings that were happy evenings.
So what did he become? We never did find out. He was flat and luminous by turns. Who was he? Those close to him discovered some glimmer of it but never could catch the light. But one day, he was destined to be the sun. I am quite sure of it.
Dedicated to A. For all the times we saw the sun shine out of him! :)
Then came school. The boy, so used to being encouraged to just be himself was part of the crowd. Now that was not easy. Every time now he asked a question or made a statement, he was looked at strangely. Some even laughed, thinking he was making a joke. But he was not joking at all. It took some time for the boy to realise that something was wrong.
All around him were tables and chairs and things that sat on them. He alone, was a moving ray, catching the sun as it shone from varied angles. He was reflecting the rays and each reflection was unique. But then, these bright lights and their reflections became a pain for those around him. Especially the ones who tried to beat him into shape, into what they thought he should be.
The boy however, was like this flexi bubble: every time he was flattened into a bewildered mass, it took him some time to understand that this was not it. They wanted him flat and biddable, so that they could walk over him and keep him in one place: while all the time, he would get back into his little bubble shape and float upwards. It became a game for the boy: for his controllers, it became a battle of wills.
It could not last long. The fairy tale ended. Or did it begin? We don’t know. The boy learnt to flatten his bubble when he went into the common environment. He tried his best to keep flat and not bubble up – and most of the time he succeeded. Sometimes, little bubbles would pop up about his flat surface threatening to betray him. The flat substance around him would notice and exclaim or be rowdy, slapping him back to flatness. The bubble came back some time later, when he was on his own, lightening up dark evenings that were happy evenings.
So what did he become? We never did find out. He was flat and luminous by turns. Who was he? Those close to him discovered some glimmer of it but never could catch the light. But one day, he was destined to be the sun. I am quite sure of it.
Dedicated to A. For all the times we saw the sun shine out of him! :)
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