Master of the Moat

Palaces, Castles, and Moats

 

In the days of yore, there were kings, queens, and kingdoms. Many of them lived in grand palaces, mighty castles, or formidable forts, spoiled by loyal servants, and surrounded by ruthless soldiers. These grand structures were normally surrounded by moats. Moats were usually deep and wide canals, often embedded with sharp stakes at the slushy bottom, and at times purposely populated with crocodiles or water snakes and served as formidable military obstacles. In his efforts to make the defence impregnable, the ruler spent considerable resources to ensure that the moat around his palace remained unbreachable. It was the most visible element of the defence. The moat was wide enough to beat the stand-off distance of the weapons of the potential adversaries he knew of. However, the ruler had weapons that could cross the moat and inflict injuries on the enemy. 

The ruler considered himself secure only in the heavily guarded palace behind the moat, but lived off the land outside the moat. A lone retractable bridge served as the only physical connection between the island behind the moat and the world beyond. The bridge was either lowered or stretched to touch the far bank and the world beyond. The master of the moat, the ruler himself or his most trusted general, decided when that happened. The mighty ruler lived, isolated from the world around but surrounded and protected by those he chose, in the man-made island dwelling, which he believed was unbreachable by foes and unbridgeable unless expected or accepted.  

The opulence inside these grand buildings, the dangers lurking within the moat, and the ruthlessness of the ruler and his guards notwithstanding, it was still the true reflection of the insecurity the ruler suffered from. It meant, the more insecure and threatened the ruler felt, the more formidable and elaborate the defence. The irony of the situation was that it was a case of a powerful man, often cruel to no end, living in mortal fear, his insecurity addressed by ever-increasing physical means. Despite the invincibility these impregnable mighty defences offered, most moats, history teaches us, were breached and the mighty within felled. In many cases, the reign collapsed, and the structures behind the moats abandoned. 

Ever Wondered Why? 

All these structures, surrounded by moats, had some common characteristics. Steeped in insecurity, it was a cloistered island blanketed by fear of failure. Success was related to the removal of potential threats and the fear of failure but success in each conquest added more to the fear of failure. They lived off the land outside but were deeply suspicious of their subjects. Threat was omnipresent. Bathed in victory, masters of the moats held themselves in high esteem. They believed it was the duty of everyone else to meet their expectations, but never thought of their obligations. They decided when to communicate. The lone bridge, which remained retracted all the time, reached out only at their convenience. It was mostly done to accept obeisance and subservience. Detached from reality and revelling in make-believe self-serving cocoons, they failed to realise the changing seasons. They did not recognise the winds of change.  

All these islands of insecurity met similar fates. Most of them fell to adversaries because they eroded from within. In some cases, when the master ordered the bridge to be launched, he realised that the far bank had moved away so much that the gap had become unbridgeable. Shunned by the world around, they lost relevance. Now they serve as tourist destinations for sale. 

Contemporary Relevance?   

This scene from the yore is contemporary too. If we look around, we can see many such moats and their masters amongst us. Gloating on achievements and floating on inflated egos, people assume eternal invincibility. They demand admiration, allegiance, and subservience in relationships. Most oblige out of goodwill and a few out of compulsion, but esteem soon drives the wedge deep. They distance themselves from others, creating the moat. Their success feels exclusive, but they also feel threatened by the possibility of people exploiting their success. They define the two banks and put a distance between them and the people around. Fear of adversities and failures adds to insecurity. They fill their moats with poisonous ‘suspicion’ snakes and ‘arrogance’ crocodiles. They withdraw the bridge from unprofitable and insignificant interpersonal relationships. Committed to cutting flab for the flight forward, they find more and more people and relationships to be insignificant. They make and break relationships to serve their purpose. Over time, they cocoon themselves into their castles, spending time widening and strengthening the moat around their safe havens. They exult in the exclusivity they build around themselves. Preoccupied with their success story, they do not sense the winds change and the blooms outside their moats. 

Yet, sometimes they feel like landing their bridge on the other bank. When they attempt, they realise the banks have slipped, the gap is difficult to bridge, and there is no one waiting to cross over. The isolation is complete. The story is not about others. It is about us. It is about me and you. We all are behind some moats of our own making. 

Survival - Not entitled? 

The moat is a very effective defence and survival mechanism. Suspicion, anxiety, fear and such other emotions are also essential for survival and growth. Optimum levels of such triggers serve the purpose where whereas excesses prove counterproductive. Considering everything around as adversarial and being over sensitive works like self-inflicted autoimmune affliction. Keeping parasites and negative people away is important, but considering anything and everything around as parasitic is detrimental to happiness. Managing minor infringements and perceived threats works like immunisation. No one is an embodiment of only virtues, and therefore, connecting with the ultimate virtuous person would never happen. We all come as a mix of good, bad, and evil depending on the situation. Creating comfort zones by withdrawing into one's shell or excluding oneself from society or a part of society is easy, but reconnecting at one’s convenience may not work all the time.  

Optimising Moats 

How do I secure myself and yet connect with an unfriendly world? Difficult but not impossible. There are wolves in sheep's clothing and sheep in wolves' clothing.  Yet, it is very important to keep the bridge in place and keep communications going. Wolves and sheep emerge in true colours sooner rather than later. Hoping to start interaction with someone only after identifying them as sheep or wolves is like waiting for the train at a railway station that does not exist. Open communications between individuals bring out the best in both if the intended destinations are the same. If elements do not match, one has the choice to peel off to safety.  

Most interpersonal communication commences on assumptions and presumptions. Divergences, unresolved at the origin of the journey, tend to lead us away from convergence. In most cases, conflicts are resolved, though it may not be an ever- happily after situation.  It is better to reach out and communicate. It is more likely that we find many people with whom we can establish bridges. We may also find people who need to be kept away using the moat. Retract the bridge and keep them out.   

However, if we find that most of the people we interact with need to be kept away, then it is time to look at ourselves more critically. It could help us strengthen good relationships, reset frayed ones and without guilt, discard the toxic ones.

 

The School in Kumaranalloor and a Few Lessons

 

 

Kumaranalloor is famous for its Temple. But not many people, barring locals, would know of the Government Upper Primary school in Kumaranalloor. I went there first time in 2018. I was there once again, invited to speak, on 02 Jun, 2025, as part of the “praveshanolsavam.” “Praveshanam” in Malayalam means admission, and “Ulsavam” means festival or celebration.  

Praveshanolsavam 

The function was organised to give the children, starting their education journey in government-run schools, a sense of festivity. It was done to initiate children into the schooling system and coincided with the commencement of the current academic year. The authorities could have used the event to take stock of the infrastructural adequacy of government-run schools. “Sarkar karyam mura pole”, is what Malayalees say. It only means that things that the government does will take their course when it does. The strategic aim of the event seemed to be optics and eyeballs. Public memory may be short-lived, but well-publicised events can eventually be milked for political returns. The irony of having to market free education against an alternative that robs parents of hefty sums as fees through fancy names was not lost on me. 

My primary audience was a bunch of kids, full of life and refusing to be geographically contained, whom the teachers worked hard to keep in place. I was focused on their parents and teachers. The audience occupied most of the small hall, a shed with no partitions that otherwise served as classrooms. I had no political compulsions. I had agreed to be there because I wanted to contribute my bit to the society that I live in. I had a stage and I had an audience. I commenced with a few words about the importance of the function and then went on to what I wanted to say. A few minutes into the speech, I realised the hall had fallen silent. I had the full attention of the audience.  

Later, I realised what I spoke at the event applies to all communities in the world irrespective of class, caste, colour, country, culture, cult, or creed. Let me share that with you also. 

Questioning Literacy 

All Keralites are literate. We boast about 100% literacy. 

Why is the menace of drug abuse in Kerala growing? 

Why is road rage increasing in Kerala? 

Why do youngsters leave Kerala or even the country to find jobs when others from across the country move into Kerala for the very jobs our youth vacated? Why are our social standards falling? 

Why do ‘educated’ well-to-do people stoop down in their behaviour in public?

Why is integrity as a virtue disappearing?

Why is breaking the law becoming fashionable?

Why do we fall easy prey to propaganda?

Are we, as literate people, failing to make considered decisions on our own? 

Are we celebrating literacy under the mistaken notion that it is education? 

If one or more questions above have occurred to us, as individuals who can read and write, there is something amiss in literacy. Literacy only means we can read and write. It does not mean we are educated.  

Education 

Education has three important aspects. It deals with acquisition, possession, and application. Individuals first acquire information through prescribed or self-devised media of instruction, process it and transform the acquisition into knowledge and skills. Knowledge is a possession inseparable from the individual. Knowledge acquisition can occur in formal settings, such as educational or training institutions, or informal environments, like the home or society. Conscientious application of acquired knowledge in a framework of commonly accepted right or wrong depends on the individual’s character. 

Education must improve the scientific temper, challenge the status quo, and enhance inquisitiveness. It should improve the power of reasoning, promote objective understanding of the cause and effect of individual or collective decisions and actions. Knowledge must eventually be applied for the good of mankind and result in collective upliftment and progress of society. Unfortunately, a system that promotes rote recall to decide on merit and success, with disregard to the means adopted, discards internalisation and useful application, eventually bringing little good to society. 

When deviant behaviour is a norm or when different yardsticks become the norm for dispensing laws for different people, it is a clear sign not of poor standards but the absence of education. Literacy does not guarantee rationale-driven decision-making; education does. 

Do we believe education comes from books? 

Wisdom and Books 

Books are a source of summarised information or codified norms of practice. It is the summary of someone’s experience, thoughts, etc. They merely provide a doorway through which one can access collated information. It is barely the means to give all that is required. Everything in a book is purely information. Only when the information given by a book is understood, accepted after adequate questioning, internalised enough to be adapted by an individual for application when and where required, would it become knowledge. Knowledge fosters personal development and sharpens the skill of rational, logical, and critical thinking. Otherwise, it remains just information. Knowledge is the result of educated experiences. Wisdom is unbiased knowledge. 

Educating Children 

A child is like a sponge.  If we put a piece of white sponge in a bowl of coloured liquid, two things happen. First, it absorbs the liquid. We may not be able to see the liquid because it has been internalised. Second, it absorbs the colour, and that is very visible. Similarly, education has two inputs. The first is the intrinsic, invisible part. The second is the behavioural manifestation. We can feel and experience a wet and heavy sponge. Squeeze it, and the liquid comes out. Likewise, education can be of use only if internalised. Similarly, appearances may not divulge how well-educated a person is, but their actions would speak aloud about the quality of their education. Adhering to the law even when not supervised is a very simple example of being educated. When a society accepts literacy as education, it is easy for the shallow to discriminate and justify any act. 

Teachers and Parents 

Children learn by observing and copying. A child born to a Malayali settled in Germany or a child of Chinese descent would speak German just like any other person of German descent in the neighbourhood. Interestingly, such children can effortlessly converse in both languages and switch from one to the other as if the two languages are one. When it comes to behaviour and character, children copy the most from their parents, siblings, elders, and teachers.  Have you noticed that children pick up bad things faster than good things? Our role, therefore, is to become the best possible material to be copied by our children, easy to copy due to prolonged association. Telling a child that something is wrong while doing it ourselves not only sends confusing signals to the child but also promotes accepting the difference between preaching and practice as normal.  

How do we become the role models that we should be? 

I am a storyteller. I have authored three books. The characters in my works are all inspired by life. They emerge from the script as individuals through their actions and inactions in the given context, not from their physical description. I realise that the longevity of characters in my books comes from their behavioural traits.  

The first and foremost task before us is to draw the template that we want our children to replicate. Then we must abide by the template in full view of our children. If we obey traffic rules all the time, even when unsupervised, obeying traffic rules will come naturally to our children. If we are generous, kind, and considerate to people around our children will imbibe those qualities naturally. We can expect them to be considerate and kind to us, also. If we are crooks, hold double standards, speak with forked tongue, and demonstrate selfishness, expect a fiercer version staring at us soon. What we should aim at passing on is the ability to see everything objectively, analyse and evaluate it independently and then come to unbiased conclusions.  Creativity can also be passed on. That can be done by passing on the habit of reading fiction. 

Why fiction? Why not textbooks?  

Textbooks and manuals are prescriptions for a structured programme. That is a mandated reading. Reading textbooks or manuals provides information about a subject or an object. It rarely activates the imaginative part of our brains. Reading fiction improves the art of visualisation. 

But don't movies and television series give you instant visual inputs? Yes, but these inadvertently limit the recipient's scope of imagination. They coerce you into converging with the director’s vision. When it comes to visualising a text, in a work of fiction, the possibilities are enormous and endless. Creating visuals within one’s brain based on a textual input helps condition the brain to break pre-established moulds and promotes thinking beyond what is seen, thereby ‘redefining horizons’ of the reader. When people get used to the idea of pushing the envelope of their thoughts and continuously redefining their horizons, then it becomes second nature for them to dream limitlessly. Dreams lead to designing their future, developing the means to it, dedicating their efforts, and then reaping rich dividends. 

Read, and let your children see you reading. Over time, they will copy you and read on their own.

Purpose of Life - Struggling to Define one?

Our daughters call up while travelling to work in the morning and on their journey home. It is a daily ritual. In the morning, I always ask, “Child, how is the day coming up?” In the evening, I ask, “How was the day?” Between the two questions and their answers, we quickly cover the essentials. My wife gets longer talk time with the girls. At times they call at the same time. Then, my wife and I either switch phones or use the conference facility. Technology has made staying connected easy. We catch up on each other’s day through our daily calls. Sometimes, the discussion can turn serious.

“Dad, is it because I was raised as an Army child or the nomadic imprint in my DNA, I feel restless staying in one place for long. I yearn to move places?” That kickstarted the day.

“Child, maybe both,” I replied. “Deep within us, there must be remnant imprints of early mankind’s nomadic DNA. Although Homo Sapiens emerged 300,000 years ago as nomads in Africa it has been just about 10,000 years since we gave up nomadism and opted for the sedentary way of life. I believe wheat and rice enslaved and tethered us to the fertile plains near the Great Rivers.” 

I gave her time to soak in what I was saying. I also wanted to collect and organise my thoughts. I was sure she had more questions lined up.

“I believe, it is the compelling presence of that nomadic trait in our DNA that keeps Tourism afloat. The same trait must be triggering us to move places for better avenues. Isn’t immigration an evolved form of nomadism?” she did not answer, but I knew she was listening. “You are an army child and grew up travelling, moving, and living in many places. Nomadism cannot be dormant in your case. It is okay to feel restless.” I gave her time to absorb what I had said and continued.

“Just like imbalance spurs continuity in a chemical equation, the uncertainty and restlessness we experience spur movement, growth, and progress. Consider your restlessness as an internal trigger. Keep adding knowledge, skill sets and competencies to expand the horizon that envelops you.” 

The silence at the other end now was louder than the sound of the autorickshaw she was travelling in and even the blaring horns of the vehicle passing by.  I knew something else was brewing. 

“Dad, what is the purpose of our lives? I just cannot figure out mine,” she said. “What was yours?” she asked. 

I laughed aloud and said, “Terrible ways genes get passed on.” I knew I could not laugh her question away. My mind was fast at work. I had to come up with an answer. Even as children they asked many questions, even uncomfortable ones. I took pains to answer them. There were times when I sat with them and went through the encyclopaedia. My own life held the answer to her latest question.

I had grappled with the same question at various stages in my life. Each time I had come up with different answers. As a youngster who was, not doing very well at school, I wanted to be an achiever someday. Achievers had good jobs, were financially independent, owned cars and were respected. I secured a good job early in life but the euphoria vanished soon. Circumstances can be compelling if not overwhelming. I had willingly shouldered a lot of responsibilities. Ironically, my life’s sole purpose was to fulfil those first and thereafter live a carefree life and die with a song on my lips. Driven by the desire to be relevant I made a decision that landed me in serious trouble. In the gravest situation, I found myself disowned. When I rescued myself and found the will to live on, I changed course, married a lovely girl and promptly forgot about the purpose of life.

A medical emergency forced me to see life differently. As a young husband and father of two girls, I wrote down ten things to do before I die.  Most of them were to ensure a safe future for my wife and children. Over the next few years, I achieved nine out of those ten. I gave up on the tenth one. As time flew, I crossed fifty and rose in the hierarchy to become a one-star general. I wanted to leave behind “footprints on the sands of time” and worked hard towards it. I was officially chosen as the mentor for the department and I was convinced I had a strong trail of footprints behind me. People called up to know my views on professional matters when I was in service. Many called seeking my intervention in their private matters and I could help. It continued for a while even after I retired. Soon, the numbers fell and then stopped altogether. Some good-hearted folks still call up on my birthday or anniversary. The footprints I thought I had left had been washed away. I do not grudge contemporary footprints over mine, for that should be the norm. With plenty of time to stare at my empty nest, one day I sat down to restate my life’s purpose. Past 65, what should be the purpose of my life?

An honest evaluation of the situation revealed that my wife could, live well without me, once she gets the hang of the mundane things I now claim I do. My children, well placed, need neither my advice nor support. I found myself saddled with a sense of purposelessness. It dawned on me that all through my life, I had only been setting goals, and proudly calling the long-term ones, my life’s purpose. They helped me chart a course moored to the value systems I had internalised. It also ensured I retracted when I strayed. Yet they were merely the desired destinations in time. They also gave my existence a sense of exclusivity. It mattered only to me. No one else saw and felt the halo around me. It took me 65 years to realise that, shorn of that self-ordained exclusivity, life’s purpose had no meaning. 

Has anyone ever heard of the mighty lion setting goals, or living to fulfill his life’s purpose? Has anyone ever heard the Redwood tree (Sequoia sempervirens) or the Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) broadcasting, from the skies above, how much of their life’s purpose has been achieved? Imagine, left alone both the species easily live very long. There are known cases where some redwood trees reached the age of 2000 and some Douglas Firs lived more than 1000 years! 

We are just one of the billions of species on the earth. We have self-assigned a special place amongst other inhabitants and think we are at the top of the food chain. While that notion may provide a sense of superiority, we are hopelessly dependent on all the other species for survival. Pitted one-on-one against other species, we are utterly defenceless and fare badly in survival capabilities. Yes, our ability to fantasise, imagine, record them, and pursue our dreams to fulfilment sets us apart. Setting goals does help but evaluating one’s life on the number of goals achieved may turn detrimental to happiness. Focussed on destinations and committed to quantifying life’s journey we deprive ourselves of the beauty of the journey called life. We must set goals to pursue but not at the cost of living happily. 

Knowing that time is not on my side anymore, and with no pressure to prove anything to anyone including me, I try to make every moment full and happy. I have learned to be patient, and forgiving. Call it age-gifted wisdom, now I let things be and have trained myself to draw positives even from toxic people and situations. I have lived the last seven years without any purpose in life. Yet, I authored two books, wrote for newspapers, published many articles, trained corporate executives, spoke at events, and even became a director in a technology start-up. I love travelling. I deploy my savings and earnings to enjoy life. I stretch every minute and every penny to soak in the maximum. If I had to pen down my life's achievements, I could do it in one sentence. "My wife and I brought into this world, two children whom we groomed to be independent, capable, compassionate  and contributing members of the society." Everything else was incidental. I summed up my 65 years to her. 

“Dad, does that mean doing good, bad, and evil make no difference in life? If short-term gains define our happiness, what incentivises being good to others? Are we not back to the ways of the jungle?  What is life without a purpose?” 

She had been listening to every word I spoke. I wanted to ask her if something was wrong, but I desisted. She demanded an answer, and I had to give it, to the best of my abilities and without counterquestions.

“Child, we are getting mixed up between the means and the end. Imagine eating from a dirty plate with dirty hands when we have the option of eating with clean hands and from a clean plate. The choice rests with us.” 

We live with the mistaken notion that having travelled far from the jungle, we have become civilised. Animals kill for the right to eat and mate and nothing more than that. The hierarchy within a pride or herd revolves around these two elements. Animals also kill to foreclose competition. Humans kill for different reasons and with far-reaching consequences. Most pogroms across the globe started as someone’s life’s purpose. The ‘by any means’ school of thought justifies means with the ends. I hold a different belief system. My happiness and growth have not been at the cost of someone else’s right to life or opportunity. I feel I am more content than many of my competitors.

Success and failures are part of life. Whatever we may accumulate or achieve accompanies us for a short time. The euphoria of success wears out very fast. Even our name and fame do not last long. In the long run, we all are dead and forgotten for sure. Public memory is infamously short and easily manipulated. When regimes change, history gets rewritten, heroes are branded villains and villains get glorified as heroes. Nothing is static. Absolutely nothing should be taken for granted. We must be led by our moral compass and how that compass adapts to our immediate surroundings is a choice we must make. Happiness is something we must find within us. We do it by the choices we make and choices differentiate people. 

“Something to ponder over,” she said.

“Yes; something for all of us to ponder over,” I replied.

 

 

 

 

The Regulation Holdall and a Lesson for Life

 

In the initial years of my army service, I travelled by train like all other army officers. When I travelled on duty, the regulation ‘holdall’ was my companion. It was a masterpiece of utility. It held my things together throughout the journey. It took on a small mattress, my military boots that could never find space elsewhere, and all the other unwieldy stuff required to be carried along. There was a way to pack it.

I first spread the mattress, put a blanket and two sheets folded to size, spread the mosquito net, flipped the covers over, and tied the laces through the three eyeholes provided. Unwieldy things were then shoved into the compartments at the two ends. The holdall was now ready for the makeover.  I rolled the holdall tight, into a cylindrical entity and tied it with the attached leather belt that went through a big leather handle. It was the strongest thing in leather I have ever seen other than the saddle. My orderly was a great help. Over time I learnt to reduce what I carried along and we became experts in compressing the holdall into a sleek cylindrical piece of luggage. It did not matter whether it was dragged, carried, or even dumped anywhere. Thieves did not want it because it was unwieldy to run away with and it was not worth being sold in a flea market.  It became my bed in railway waiting rooms and my sofa on the platform when I waited for the train that promised to arrive in ‘some time.’  Occasionally, I deposited my holdall in the railway cloakroom giving me time and freedom to explore places around the railway station.  Times have changed.  I retired from service. I do not know if the holdall is still a regulation supply item. I hardly see anyone with it.  

My holdall was neither classy nor good looking but it took on everything a bachelor possessed. Most modern suitcases would shudder to consider the stuff my holdall could accommodate. It handled the favourable and weathered the inclement equally well. It gathered a lot of scars but was still as useful as ever. It became more accommodative and flexible as it aged. Finally, it looked big or small depending on how well I rolled and bound it. The coolie, I hired at the station to carry my holdall, often complained that it weighed much more than it looked. Once I landed at a station at an unearthly hour and found no one to help me with my luggage.  I was not kind to my holdall, lifting, dropping, and dragging it.  I had a delicate suitcase to take care of. My holdall picked up a few tears but delivered my stuff safe and sound. My holdall carried a beautiful lesson. I recognise it only now. Wisdom comes with age! The wise say, “Better late than never.”  

The first bag I owned was an airbag. It carried my stuff, mostly snacks from home to the school hostel. The snacks did not last more than a day amidst growing boys. The bag found space in the dormitory cloakroom. It came out again only when I went home on vacation. I lugged a few textbooks that I did not read anyway. I wanted to show my father I was serious with my studies, though my report card said otherwise. Years later I became the proud owner of a classy wheeled moulded suitcase, the one I bought from the Army canteen with my first pay. I have vivid memories of both these pieces.  

They were both beautiful to look at but had limitations to what they could take in and carry. One day the zip of the airbag gave way. Those days we could repair bags. After repair, it looked good enough. Soon both the zip and the handle gave up. I think it gave up because it could not bear to carry meaningless loads anymore. I do not remember what happened to it.

The suitcase was a bit different. The wheels of my proud possession could not take the rough of the railway platform and gave up one day. It limped through the journey back to the unit. There I knocked the wheels off and continued to use it for a few more journeys. I could always find a Coolie at the station. Sleeker and better-looking suitcases were already in the market. One day the hinges gave way when I tried to push in things I thought, the suitcase could hold. I put it away in the attic of my quarters for some time. I do not recall where it vanished. 

Life is like that. We can choose to be a holdall, an airbag, or a suitcase! Our looks, connections, wealth, and social mobility do not matter. Some good-looking, stylish people you see around may not be as happy as they seem.  Many of those laughing in public necessarily may not be happy. They may be putting on that face, out of compulsions while breaking up within. Looks can be deceptive. They may be like bags with broken zippers or missing handles, or suitcases with broken wheels or cracking hinges or locks. We may not know. 

Life is a journey that throws up the unexpected and at the most inappropriate time the unwanted. It will always be so. What matters is our ability to take in what life gives, organise it and pack those such that we are not held back in our journey.  The trick lies in separating the ones that we need, the ones that we are forced to carry, and the ones we can discard. When held within limits, time heals even the most terrible things. What we cannot discard has to find compartments so that they do not divest us of the freedom of movement.  The job becomes far easier if we can detach ourselves from what we do not want and discard those at the first instance. Often it is not as easy as it sounds.   

Some memories, especially of losses, heartbreaks, unmatched expectations, unkept promises, and treachery are so hard to forget, that we compulsively carry them even though the stench of the putrefied experience is unbearable. We forget that the putrid attracts maggots. It consumes us from within. Redemption lies in finding the strength to throw out garbage. In many cases, the requirement may be just a stitch or two. At times, it may be difficult to detach and discard on one's own. We can always find someone who can give a patient ear and suggest ways without being judgemental. Together, we can spread our holdall, and prepare for the journey ahead.  

Yes. The scars could be deep, but it is still better than being consumed by one’s sorrows.  

This article was spurred by a friend's response to my reel titled “Creating Memories.”  This is my answer.

My gratitude to one of my brothers in arms who posted this photo on the social media group.

 

Venturi Effect- Profound Lessons from a Road Rogue

 

I was sitting at the back of the class and playing book cricket. Our Physics teacher was working hard on explaining the Venturi effect. “Remember! Energy is neither created nor lost. It gets converted from one state to the other,” he said. “No loss, no gain,” I found the concept interesting.  

Book cricket was my fiefdom. I made rules and decided when to start and finish the match. “Time for a drink break,” I told the cricketers, closed the book pitch, and gave all my ears to the teacher. “So, when the water in a pipeline comes across a choke point, the pressure inside the tube at the choke increases, and the velocity decreases. The moment it comes out of the choke, the pressure falls dramatically, and the speed of the water increases correspondingly. People designing the layout of long-distance pipelines incorporate it to install inline flow meters. It also makes sure that pipelines do not get clogged,” he said. Intuition told me it would be a sure question in the examination. I studied the part well.  Sure enough, the question was there. I answered well and got good marks for my answer. It helped me pass the examination. That day, the essentials of the Venturi principle became sedimented somewhere deep within me. 

Experimenting with life is integral to adolescence. When I was growing up, smoking was considered macho. I picked up smoking early in life and became a heavy smoker. One day, I decided to cut down on my nicotine intake. A friend suggested I use a filter cum cigarette holder. I could fix my cigarette into the pen-like filter and smoke.  

I learned from the manual that it used the Venturi principle to extract nicotine from cigarette smoke before it reached my lungs. The cigarette certainly looked longer, but the filter stole the punch from the smoke.  I opened the filter in the evening to clean it. It was one of the most repulsive sights. A thick, dark, brown, sticky substance stared at me from the filter hold. It was nicotine that would have otherwise gone into my lungs. I did not like the sight.  In two days, I stopped smoking cigarettes using the filter. I threw the filter away. It took me another 30 years to throw cigarettes away for good. Somewhere in between, I also forgot about the venturi.   

Last Sunday, I saw the venturi principle in action once again.  

The six-lane road was for three vehicles abreast in each direction. The median ensured it. When commissioned, the flyover and road would have drained the flow either way very fast. Over the years, the density and volume of vehicular traffic increased manifold. Now, it remains packed beyond capacity almost throughout the day. That Sunday, I was on the side heading for the airport or beyond. All traffic leaving Bengaluru (Bangalore) had to take this route. The flyover was crowded, with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Traffic moved at snail's speed.  

The left side of the flyover had a channel with two tails. The channel split into two tails about 50 meters from the entrance. One was a lean-mean left hook that served as the exit. It was wide enough to take just one vehicle. I was heading for it. The straight tail rejoined the main lane at the end of the flyover. The straight part was the problem. People on the mainline used it as a shortcut to overcome the congestion and join the main line ahead. Slow traffic creates unruly drivers. The slower the traffic, the ruder those inclined became. Vehicles ahead of me had already choked the entrance to the funnel. I had no option but to queue up because I had to take the exit. 

According to the rules of fluid mechanics, flow at the outer bend is faster than the flow at the inner bend. This law applies even to vehicular traffic flow. I use the lessons I learned in science classes in my daily life. I kept my car to the outer side of the funnel within the lane, directly facing the entrance and behind the car ahead of mine. I was sure I would be the one to enter the funnel whenever that car moved.  

The banks of a river define its course, and the laws of physics govern its waters. That day, “might is right” was the operative law on the road. Indian roads can be elastic beyond imagination. It can expand in any direction. One needs only to insert a tyre or nose of a vehicle. A new line will automatically take shape. Lanes lose significance or relevance.  It is not rare to see two-wheelers on the pedestrian path or cars nonchalantly coming against the flow, throwing one-way rules to the wind. 

The car on my right tried to nudge me to the left and out of the entrance. Then, from nowhere, a car came from the left, honking loudly, and stopped at about 60 degrees to the entrance. He then let his car roll into the gap between my car and the car in front. I knew he had got the better of me. He looked at me like the victor and let his car roll ahead. I saw a vicious, wicked smile on his face as he looked at me with contempt. He crawled ahead, and I rolled behind. When we reached the exit, he gunned his car ahead.  The road was empty. 

 

I continued driving behind him at my pace. There was enough space for everybody on the road. I could see the traffic light in the distance. I pulled up at the traffic light because it had turned red. The man who burned his tyres to race ahead was there. I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. Then, two bikers snaked their way between our cars and parked right in front of his car. The light turned green. I could hear him honk loudly, even as I rolled ahead.  

Life is like that. There are many people around us taking shortcuts and gaining short-term advantages. They are in perpetual competition with everybody and for everything. They derive happiness in victories they notch up, even when insignificant.  It is how they find self-esteem and realisation. Life is nothing beyond a race from one traffic light to the next. It is beyond them to comprehend that life is a marathon.  When it is time for reckoning, they often find people they had left behind through unscrupulous means and manipulations standing ahead, relaxed, smiling, and happy.  

Reflecting on what happened, I recalled my teacher’s words. There is no loss of energy, just a change of form. How true, I thought. We waste a lot of energy daily on competitions that we create unwittingly. Maybe it is time to pause and look at the road we took so far. Did we edge someone out only to find them overtaking us at some traffic light ahead? 

Qualifications or “Callification,” Selection and Retention Criterion

 

Endless Efforts

 

“Callification?” Your efforts to find out what it means in the dictionary shall go in vain. I just made it up.  Patiently read through it; you will know what it means.   

The three submersible pumps working continuously and in tandem could not fill the colony’s overhead tank. The employees kept the pump running. One pump ran dry far too long and burned itself out. The open well also ran dry. They told no one. Why should they? They had nothing to lose. I noticed the unusual activity and enquired. This had been going on for a few days. It should not have. 

I did a quick calculation of the flow rates of the pumps, the capacity of the community tank, and the tanks over the individual houses. Considering the endless efforts of the pumps, all the overhead tanks should have been filled and overflowing. It did not happen. I concluded that there must be a leak somewhere in the pipeline. The large amount of water that leaked out must have gone under the foundation of somebody's house. People seemed to be oblivious to the potential losses and damage. 

Stimulus 

“Let us check the pipeline to identify and plug the leak,” I suggested. “You have no qualifications to decide what is wrong with the water distribution system,” came the only response in the group. I was not surprised. I did not expect anything different from that individual. Did the crass response stem from deep-rooted prejudice germinated in ignorance? 

Ignorance? The individual had never bothered to ask me about my qualifications or experience. He could not have known about my academic or professional qualifications.  I did not have to revisit the lessons in fluid mechanics or applied engineering or fall back on my experiences in managing the civic amenities of one of the biggest cantonments to understand the elementary science problem. I also did not have to rack my brain to remember my lessons in missile technology. After all, determining why an overhead tank refuses to fill up is no rocket science.  

Prejudice? Prejudice is a platform internally constructed by an individual using preconceived notions about individuals, groups, or even things. The result of a “taught” or “thought” concept, it invariably becomes a subconscious driver. It influences, often negatively, everything an individual thinks, says, or does. We all carry prejudices of some sort and tend to use broad-brushed templates in our thoughts, and actions. Some amongst us make it obvious and take it to obnoxious levels. Prejudice is the result of our inability or unwillingness to reason out within ourselves. If we sit down and dispassionately analyse our conversations and the decisions we have taken over time, we should be able to spot the prejudices underpinning them. 

Many believe that the job of the Army is to only guard the country’s borders. They think that everybody in the army stands in rows along the borders preventing people from crossing over. Some feel the Army is all about marching and doing physical exercises in the morning to prepare themselves for a duel at the border and doing sentry duty. They ask, “What does the army do when there is no war?” They cannot fathom the extent to which officers of the Indian Army toil on various contemporary academic and professional subjects. Their mobility up the hierarchy ladder is largely linked to their performance in these tests. Unfortunately, such injurious ignorance is prevalent even amongst the “supposed to be” well-read.  

Response 

I was angry and instinctively wanted to respond in the same coin.  The wisdom that age, exposure, experiences, and knowledge bestowed on me forbade me from stooping down. I decided to deny traction to the foul mouth. His response, however, triggered a much deeper thought. I am, by nature, given to analyse the ‘why and how’ behind every ‘what’ I see or experience. Why did he say that? Nobody does anything once. There is always a pattern and they leave a trail. He did. 

Besides his prejudice, which I was aware of, there must be an underlying belief that prompted the response. In possession of a professional degree, he had given himself to the belief that formal qualifications define an individual’s competence and his place in society. It showed in his generally loud and contemptuous behaviour. Unfortunately, there are many like him, enslaved by similar beliefs. This misplaced belief has forced people to obtain fancy qualifications by whatever possible means. It is common knowledge that people adopt illegal means to secure academic degrees. Some go to the extent of even buying doctorate degrees. Esteem somehow seems tagged to the few letters that find a place after an individual’s name. Do formal qualifications denote competence?   

Understanding “Callification” 

The discussion does not in any manner advocate the thought that an educational degree is a waste of time. One needs to have the basic requisite educational qualification. Mere possession of the qualification, however, is no guarantee of the presence of expected skills or the aptitude to apply the acquired knowledge. If an educational degree defines comparable competence, two equally qualified professionals like chefs, doctors, economists, fashion designers, lawyers, or musicians, should all demonstrate comparable performance. This is not the case. 

Everyone gets the initial foothold into a profession using the few letters representing a mandated educational degree. It may also be the inescapable requisite for career progression. Degrees merely indicate that the person has cleared a qualifying examination, by whatever means. The marks obtained by the person do not in any manner indicate his proficiency. It merely shows how well he fared in recalling answers to the questions, which in turn was anyway a matter of probability. This gives the individual the required ‘qualification’ to secure entry to an organisation or a job. Once an entry has been obtained, they need to perform in the role assigned. In performance, the difference between grain and chaff lies in “callification.” Without callification, however, smart one may be, one cannot make lasting Impressions in the field one has chosen. 

“Callification,” is the calling from within. If a person has a calling from within to be in a profession, then the quality of the work, he or she gives the organisation and the impact the person makes easily stand out from the rest. They are normally so self-motivated that they only need to be told the end state, not the how. Team leaders can easily distinguish between those driven by qualification and fired by “callification.” 

Selection Criterion 

Recruitment is now mostly an outsourced activity. Recruiters and head hunters are guided by the selection criteria template provided by the client. They look only at the qualification and track record of the prospective resource because they have no means to determine the callification.  Team leaders at all levels would love to have those fired by “callification” because it makes achieving goals easy. Many “callified” people are considered mavericks and leaders unsure of themselves may be loath to have them around. 

One of the common responses I get to most of my articles is, “What is the remedy?” There is no panacea for HR problems. It must be tailored to suit each situation. I cannot help HR professionals or those involved in making policies on selection, career progression, attrition,
and retention, by prescribing any means to determine if someone has the “callification” that they are looking for. I certainly know of a CEO who goes to great lengths to look for it.  

The CEO 

The qualification required to get on to the organisational roll is just an engineering degree. The degree guarantees the prospective candidate only an opportunity to sit for an examination conducted by the firm.  The exam unlike entrance processes adopted by many other firms focuses mostly on the application of knowledge that the qualification was supposed to have provided the candidate with. It also evaluates the ingenuity and adaptability of the candidate. 

Once a candidate gets through the written gateway, he or she faces an interview. According to the CEO, they look for the “spark” in the candidate. Talking to the CEO, I understand that the candidate reveals the presence or absence of the “spark” they are looking for within the first five minutes of the interview. The candidates call it the “desire to do something special” and I now call it “callification.” The candidate’s lack of communication skills does not become a barrier in this determination process.  It is a vibe, a feel that the candidate sends across and one that can easily be picked up by the discerning. The firm attributes the almost 100% retention of the resources to that spark or callification. The firm has been growing, in size and business. 

With no malice to recruiting agencies and professional head hunters, third-party recruitment may always ensure qualified resources, not “callified” ones.  Organisations staffed by “callified” people can make even deserts bloom.

Challenges, Adversity and Struggles - Elephants , Ants and Kunjel Mooppan

 Child Smoker 

The car was a beast from the outside but a cocoon from the inside. The unending leg space and silent air conditioning inside made it ideal for friends to travel and talk. The endless roads, devoid of traffic, encouraged the car to race with the winds. Whenever Jose, my friend, forgot to rein in the beast, Cini, his wife, lovingly reminded him of the brake pedal. Jose and I are childhood friends.  

“Do you know how we first met?” Jose asked my wife as we headed for Khor Fakkan from Al Dahaid. I tried hard to recollect but failed. “Something interesting about it?” she asked. Jose had already narrated many incidents of our childhood since we arrived in Sharjah two days ago. We had been laughing at ourselves and reconnecting. There were times when we laughed till our stomachs hurt.

“Like all houses in the locality, our houses were farmhouses and shared a common boundary, a high mud bund we call Kayyaala. It was one of the few kayyaalas in the locality without dispute. One day, I was sitting in my house and found smoke intermittently emanating from his side of the Kayyaala. Curious, I went to investigate. I found him sitting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. We must have been in our 7th or 8th grade. He had come home from the hostel for summer vacation. We have known each other ever since.  We became close during our college days. Search for a dignified livelihood took us on different roads away from each other. He joined the Military Academy after graduation to become an Army officer. We wrote letters to each other. Gradually, we got caught up in our own lives, and letter writing stopped. Whenever we happened to meet, we met as if we had never left each other's side,” Jose said.

Jose completed his Bachelor of Pharmacy course and opened a pharmacy in our area. He met Cini, a beautiful girl with bright eyes, and married her. Like many other Keralites, he landed in Sharjah, where he found a job in a pharmacy and Cini in a logistics company. Jose then moved into the shipping and logistics business. He worked hard for almost four decades and did well.   

What Next?

During their last trip to Kerala, Jose and Cini visited us and stayed overnight. The visit cemented the friendship between the two families. “Have you been to Dubai?” asked Jose. “No,” I replied.  “You land there and leave the rest to us. We have enough time,” Jose said.  “It will be nice to have you with us,” said Cini. We decided to fly to Sharjah. It was the third day of our visit, and Jose was driving us to Khor Fakkan. The four of us, with so much time together, bonded well. Like most couples inflicted with empty nest syndrome, our discussions somehow meandered into the question, “What next?” 

I am retired and spend time mostly reading and writing. I published my second book recently. I am also a director of a company. I am happy, gainfully occupied, and content with life. I come across many others who have settled down to retired life. Older or younger, many of them were in distress due to loneliness and lack of purpose. Uncertainty about ‘what next’ persistently tormented many of them. Contented, happy, and gainfully occupied, yet occasionally, the question, “What next?” gnaws me too. 

Jose is continuing with his business but plans to scale it down. Jose and Cini also grapple with the “what next” question. He has seen enough and surmounted adversities that can decimate lesser mortals. He is not one to be cowed down by challenges, but “What next” somehow cropped up in many of our discussions. Pensive silence inevitably followed. Jose invariably brought laughter back by saying, “Come what may, Kunjel Moopan[1] is happy.” 

Struggles 

In the highly connected contemporary world, social media is king and influencer. Many have found success and have become rich and famous through this platform. Some of them paint larger-than-life pictures of themselves. One easy way to do it is to share the real or make-believe struggles one overcame. Think about it. We all do it too.

Parents tell children, “We struggled a lot to reach here. How easy it is for you.” My parents told me of their “struggles.” I found most of them unbelievable. I told my children about my “struggles.” I am sure they would think I made it up. I can never bring myself to agree, however hard I may try, that my children had to struggle for anything. ‘Struggle’ is an element that can romanticise success, however small, and make it look spectacular. Struggle makes success an achievement. 

 

I vividly recall my grandmother's words; “aanekku thadi bharam; urumbinu ari bharam” a Malayalam phrase (ആനയ്ക്ക് തടി ഭാരം ഉറുമ്പിന് അരി ഭാരം). On the face of it, it meant “for the elephant, timber (log) a burden and for the ant a grain of rice (the burden).” Those content with its superficial meaning will miss the pearl within. The real meaning of this phrase was revealed to me when I grew up and started encountering challenges in life.

Elephant or Ant - The Choice

Adversities are opportunities to employ our potential. Challenges test our ability to apply our potential. There can be no progress in life unless adversities challenge our potential. When challenges become existential issues that call for persistent efforts, they become struggles. Adversity, challenges, and struggles exist everywhere. It is we who decide to make a challenge turn into an adversity and then create a situation of struggle. If we learn to address challenges individually, we prevent them from turning into adversities. When we adequately and timely handle adversities we do not create struggles to contend with.

Adversities do still turn into situations of struggle. Situations that demand struggle also call for reassessment. Some of the questions that we must ask ourselves about such situations are given below: -

What is the ‘struggle’ all about?

Is it the result of not shedding “baggage’ that we were to jettison?

Is it an amalgamation of several problems that we did not handle appropriately?

Is it a result of ‘too little - too late’ or seeking ‘too much - too soon’ or that got us here?

Can we isolate the ‘struggle’ into individual problems and handle them? 

Do we have the required competencies and how can we deploy them?

What are the external forces and what are internal obstacles? Can we separate them?

Are we seeing ghosts where none exists?

Are we making a log out of a grain (mountain out of a mole)?

Honest dissection of the situation through a set of questions, like the ones tailor-made for individuals, above can help us redefine the situation, reimagine solutions, and maybe tackle them as individual problems rather than seeing them as one gigantic existential struggle. If we still feel that we are in the struggle zone, then it is time to call for external help. There is a sense of inadequacy and helplessness attached to struggles. There should be no hesitation to seek help like the ants. The essence lies in identifying when we need to be elephant-like or need to be ant-like.

Despite all that we may do, results may or may not be to our liking. It is in handling results, especially unpalatable and suboptimal ones, that we need to learn from Kunjel Mooppan.

Kunjel Mooppan

Kunjel was one of the farm labourers in our area. His old face revealed the rugged and weather-beaten life he led.  Whether the crop yielded well or failed, India won or lost in a match, it did not affect him. He had seen so much of life nothing could shake that man; Not even personal losses like the death of his wife and son.  It was not that he had no feelings or emotions. He cried when he lost his wife. He cried when he lost his children. There were times he went to sleep empty stomach. There is so much to learn from him about accepting the inevitable. When the crop was good, he advised the farm owner to save a little for the rainy day and when the crop failed, he said the next one would certainly be a bumper crop.  When the day was bad, he said tomorrow would be good. Many of us could underplay his zen-like existence by attributing it to the minimal access he had to creature comforts. He smiled because nothing affected him permanently. Nobody makes poverty a wilful choice. Zen-like approach is a difficult choice very few can make.

Transformation

Dunes gave way to townships, and townships gave way to dunes. Along the way, many manmade greens stood out from the natural dunes. We then stopped at Masafi for a cup of tea and found the green coolant dripping from the engine. Jose opened the bonnet took a quick look inside and asked the stall owner, a Malayalee, where he could find a mechanic. As we drove towards the mechanic, he noticed that the temperature gauge did not show a climb. The mechanic was of no help. “We push on,” declared Jose. We drove into the series of tunnels and then into the magnificent sights of all, The Khor Fakkan beach.

We walked around the beach and admired the beauty around us.  “Houston, we have a problem,” I said sitting in the vehicle as Jose started the car. “We are heading back to Sharjah. Coolant level ok. Temperature ok. Here we come,” said Jose and turned the car onto the highway. “Switch off the air conditioning,” I said in a bid to lessen the engine load. Once we crossed the mountain range and the tunnels, we switched on the air conditioning. It was a big relief. We kept a close watch on the engine temperature lest we irreparably spoil it. Four hours later we were home.

“Kunjel is happy,” said Jose.

PS: The next day we took the car to the mechanic. We had to change the coolant pump. It had broken!

 

 

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[1] The name changed to conceal the identity of the person concerned.