Passion will make you crazy but is there any other way to live?

I love this quote from Howard Hughes. Somehow it strikes a chord in me, in an unromantic non-cutesy way.

But to remind that passion isn't nice.

Passion isn't anything feisty that can be tamed for you to like or enjoy. It might not bring any enjoyment after all, nevertheless, making it any less compelling.

Truth is, passion is not your bliss. (Neither your bitch.)

It is the willingness to suffer for something (or someone), to risk stability, peace of mind and enjoyment.

Passion is subversive.

It is stepping out of culture, jumping classes, and breaking traditions. It burns you on inside.

It strips you in winter. It picks on your scars and wakes you up at 4am every morning, shivering.

Passion is hellbent. It won't reason or stop. It transforms you.

It alienates you from those who can no longer accept your transformation or understand where the hell you are going.

(Do you know where you are going?)

It knocks you off the path. (It was never your path anyways.)

It makes you start all over again : no job, no friends, uncharted horizons.

It requires you to change when you are so far from ready.

To be passionate is scary, then why bother it at all?

Because passion points you to what you want so much that you're afraid to want it. The ambiguity of hope. The fear of getting. The fear of not getting.

It is the moments that you dreamt your whole life,  scares you the most. But then you go out there. You do it..and you are okay.

Passion stands behind you with a mirror. It wants to show who you truly are - good, bad and ugly.

All you need is to turn around and embrace.

Why I love Hackathons, when I am not even a hacker

Last weekend I took part in my second Geekettes hackathon in Hamburg. The moment you read the word "hackathon" you instantly imagine a room full of ruby ninjas coding away 24 hours while guzzling on Redbulls and caffine. And that's a fact.  Except, you can't imagine me in there. For I don't know how to code and also hate Redbulls. Unlike Startup Weekends with lot more non-techies, hackathons are purely hackers' haven with non-stop coding on some cool ideas. So what was I doing there? Truth is, hackathons are great fun and they’re kind of addicting even for a non-hackers like me. 

Survival kit for Hackathon.

Creating without limitation is addicting.  Unlike themed hackathons, Geekettes' version was not just limited to building software. Hardware hacks were equally encouraged. So the possibilities we had were endless. Nothing is more addicting than the knowledge of the unknown, and what we could achieve in 24 hours. 

Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.

Solving a world problem. Or, scratching your own itch. Whether you are coder or not, you can pitch your ideas, which could vary from finding solutions to existing challenges to "just for fun"/crazy ideas. While I pitched something of the former category last year to build one of the winning prototypes, this year I had no such plans. But sitting there listening to various company APIs and the participants' pitches, I realized that I too have a problem that requires solving. Here I will share my friend, Deb's, funnier version of the problem - "E has no time to socialize because she is busy doing sports in the evening." Oh well, I pitched it in the end.

Team Runanas. Photo credits: Nelli

Teaming up with the three Hs.  Pitching over, now is exciting part where we have to find teams based on our interests and skill-sets. From my past experience, I found that a hackathon team is just like any other successful team. All roles must be accounted for. So besides the Hackers (coding ninjas), you will need the Hipsters (designers) to build a great user experience for your project, and the Hustlers (business developers) for final presentation and also for helping the coders to realize the real-world applications of the product they are developing. We were lucky to have 8 such highly creative and energetic team members to develop the cool idea. 

Get smart people in the team, and then get the hell out of their way.

Getting uncomfortable. Learning new things. Hackathons are great events to learn new things and if you consider yourself to be a lifelong learner, you will love the vibes of such situations. For me it was important to learn about building user-stories, and explaining the idea in the simplest version possible. With the help of my teammates, I created my first user-story board. In the same way, everyone else in the team also had to get out of their comfort zones to learn new things, whether it was developing the back-end of the App, the front-end or establishing the communication between the android App and the smart watch. Building a real app with this team completely changed the way I initially thought about coding. And we had intense 24 hours of learning new stuff with new people and thus creating new experiences. Kudos to the ones who survived the whole event without a wink of sleep!

From idea to prototype.

Presentation.Presentation.Presentation. The most important part of the hackathons is the presentation time. If you can control the audience, make them remember you, present the APIs you used effectively ( if you’re shooting for a prize ), and do a short demo, you’ve got a good chance of success. But all in 2.5 minutes! Yes, we had to be really lean on what we presented on Sunday evening. But a lot depends on the crowd, the judges, and the vibe as well when it comes to winning prizes. What can you do? Use your common sense and know your audience. For starters, don't show up in your own startup t-shirts, or in a business suit and then sound like you are recruiting people over the weekend. Some crowds love just fun/ crazy ideas and any real-world money making ideas might be frowned upon (unless those hacks are crazy or results of a hacker's awesomeness). So you'll have to bet your luck on this, and do your best.

Hackathon aftermath.

Most importantly, having fun. You may win one of the prizes or you may just get stuck to a weekend project - whatever is the outcome, you should be able to enjoy it. Sometimes you will get lucky in finding potential people for a new startup, some fresh ideas that get you thinking outside the box, or some good friends that can plug you into a new side of the tech industry. At the very least, as a non-hacker you’ll get the inside scoop on what goes on at hackathons, and get to watch some cool demos. Oh, and you’ll be surely aching for a good 12+ hour sleep. Personally we had so much fun building the idea, that towards the end of the event we realized how none of us ever formally introduced each other - we met, liked the idea and started working on it. Of course, winning the Sony smart watches as prize definitely helped because we can now tinker around the app further with our individual devices as we develop it to next stage. And the fact that random people were actually asking when they could use the beta-version of the app showed this idea has true market potential. 

Having said that, I have to admit about the magic of hackathons - it's the  great synergy of minds and energies that can make anything possible. And if you happen to love such vibes and energetic experiences, why not join the next one in your community?

We were slightly disoriented in the sun, thanks to lack of sleep and enough beer.

To the self-rescuing princesses

As I watch the snowfall outside the window of my cozy hostel in Istanbul and drink my Çay (Turkish Tea), the fairytales of my childhood runs through my mind.

Have you ever wondered why all fairy tales ended in happily-ever-afters? 

Think of the Walt Disney versions. Beautiful, innocent girls suffered at the hands of wicked witches/step mothers and pined for the day their prince charming would arrive, with his dragon-slaying skills and magical kiss. These stories were oh-so-cute with fluff and romance. The more I think about it, the more they seem scary . They taught a girl to be deluded, trusting and passive, rewarded for her looks alone (and maybe a bent for emotional masochism).

What if these tales didn't start this way? What if they were female tales where the heroines were not just pretty victims killing time and waiting to be rescued? Sisters rescued brothers, daughters rescued fathers or lovers.

And when the princess would fall into a deep, enchanted sleep, she would close her eyes and withdraw into some serious Me time. Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, in her sleep she will discover her newfound sexuality as she blossoms from girl to woman. The moment she matured (insert, the process of ripening had come to its natural end), she would awake to her prince who was both her reward and symbol of adulthood. (Note: he didn’t actually wake her up himself. He was in the right place at the right time, with a tendency to take all the credit.)

Now, lets take the spotlight off hero's heroics, and put it, instead, on heroine's initiation into higher consciousness Then fairy tales will not be about true love anymore. But instead would be about transformations. They will be about growth in female consciousness that makes love possible. 

No growth, no story.

Transformation is truly a painful process, and not just an endless slumber. It involves struggle, suffering, sacrifice and pain : skills must be acquired, lessons learned, experience earned the hard way. And yes, a whole period of wandering in the wilderness - through unknown lands and difficult situations - alone. 

You must lose the old life - or get forced out of it - if only you want to come to the life that is awaiting for you.

But then Walt Disney wasn't interested in any of this. His hero battled the dragon and fought the witch for possession of the beautiful virgin. Suddenly a girl could be transformed into a woman with a single kiss. All she had to do is to wait for The One who would bestow it, so that her real life may begin.

And so many of us kept waiting.

But what if the prince is just a metaphor? The moment you fight through painful experience (that's slaying the dragons), when you descend into your personal hell and come back up into light, when you retreat from the world into your cocoon, only to assimilate your truth and grow strong enough to carry it - what if, the prize for all of this, for making it to the other side is not a man on a white horse, with shining armour and a feathered hat on his oversized head, but a more integrated sense of self, and a vision for your future that makes you passionate and come alive? 

You learn that you are stronger for the broken places. 

But this doesn't happen just once. Such initiation to consciousness comes again and again through a lifetime. Things fall apart, you eat the poisoned apple, you descend once more into dark. You wander alone through some bleak internal landscape until finally you see a crack in the dark clouds - and you turn your face to the sun. You rise to claim your reborn self, spiralling up a little more with every new transformation.

You the look into your prince's face, and discover its your own.

You have opened your eyes. 

52 weeks to experiment

When 2014 rolled in and the world went busy making a list of resolutions they will eventually discard in a month or two, I decided to experiment the next 52 weeks ahead. No lists, no maps, no rules. Just saying yes to experiential experiments, and see how life molds itself around me. So yes to rock concerts, building startups, impromptu trips, double chocolate cheesecakes, and great ..... *she leaves that to well-intended interpretations*

The truth of life is - nothing matters. All our lives we are imprisoned in worry, self-doubt, fear and disbelief, while crossing off the checkboxes of society's life plan for us. And before we realize it, we are heading towards the nearest psychiatrist's office and popping anti-depressants. 


What if we ditch these checkboxes altogether?

What if we make our own rules?

What if we turn our work and perhaps, our lives into piece of art?  Rich and colorful with stories, interesting characters and scenic backdrops, and music that makes you wanna sing with delight.

What would happen if we are truly honest to ourselves and say what we are actually thinking - raw, imperfect, unedited and unfiltered?

Yes its scary to think about, maybe inherently selfish to some. But to be the no-bullshit version of yourself is a challenge to take on. To be the one who is not afraid to take risks, not afraid to tell the truth, giving a damn about others' validation, and most importantly to create for the joy of creating, nothing more. 

When I am creating something - whether writing a blog post,  or working on my pet project, I have this need to create it like a bad girl. It becomes my right to authentic self-expression, especially when it cuts against the grain of a society that would have me be someone, something else. We are what we make.  Our creations show the truth of who we truly are.  And this is a scared dance. This demands nothing less than everything I’ve got to give it.

When you come into intention, you say : I want. You embody a goal and start believing in it so fiercely that you will piss off some people. Actually scratch the last part. Most people will hate you. Maybe because you no longer start  living according to the perceptions they have for you. Or maybe because you start becoming your own rebellion.

This is not just a challenge to conventional wisdom, the status quo, the established Establishment, etc. etc....but this is a challenge to self. The day I started to listen to the voice of my inner misfit, all of my 'why's turned to 'why not's. And then I started to wonder, what would happen if I gave piece of my heart everytime I create anything? It’s a bust your ass to shine, honest to a fault, no bullshit, zero apology performance. Something that makes heart and soul bleed.

What would happen if we pursued being unmistakable instead of wildly successful by external measures?

52 weeks to find answers. 52 weeks to ask more. I do not know what lays ahead for I do not own a map, but have a compass.

And this compass do not point North,
It points to the thing I want the most in the world. 

Girls are beautiful, boys are smart

.... says my 5 year old niece whilst discussing her peers. What followed next was a good 5-10 mins serious debate on why girls are pretty and boys are smart according to this 5 year old (Mind you, women in my family, irrespective of age or generation, comes with a strong opinions of their own.) Let me tell you about this kiddo. My niece is fluent in three languages (English, French, Assamese), does ballet, has a knack for painting and will probably master the guitar someday too soon and yet, she feels the boys in her class are smarter than her. Reason being, her girl friends (all 4-5 year olds) convinced that girls should only look pretty and do stuff to stay pretty. So when I pointed out that girls can be both smart and pretty, her counter reply was - "But you can't call boys pretty, can you??" Clearly, she has not heard the likes of Justin Bieber. 

But jokes apart, it got me to thinking - if this how baby girls are brought up, how can we expect overcome gender inequality in technology?

I have been recently following Y combinator co-founder Paul Graham's interview and the brouhaha it created about his statement on why 13 year old girls should get engaged to coding. And this is where this guy gets it wrong. To get 13 year old girls interested in computers one needs to check the eco-system the girl was raised in. Secondly, don't set the bar of learning at 13 - its horribly demotivating for girls and women of other ages!

Lets start with the eco-system. What I have seen, especially in the West, is that from the moment  a girl child is born she is associated with the color pink holistically to the point that its nauseating. With Indian girl babies (atleast in my generation), I have observed that this pink mayhem was much less. Of course we all played "house" and other girly games at some point, but equal stress was also given to learn math and science. Maybe its a family thing, or maybe something cultural that society expects you to be- whatever it is, India definitely has a good amount of women in technology. However, its not discrimination free zone, and I shall talk about it a bit later. 

Now, there is nothing wrong with the idea of "pretty in pink", and I bet social scientists can confirm that color pink has nothing to do with general intelligence level of a woman. However, the idea of playing with a doll and then the societal pressure of being just a doll, is definitely questionable in the mental growth of a girl child.  Why playing with the plastic, anorexic "Barbie" more popular among little girls than solving puzzle games, or building toys like GoldieBlox? Why doesn't the popular pop-culture make teenage boys think that brainy teenage girls who take math/computer science are hot and dateable? Speaking of tech majors in college, I have witnessed how engineering women students, especially from hard engineering like mechanical or chemical, are often demeaned to be unsexy. Derogatory terms like "she-males" have also been used in such situations. Eventually these women who undergo such humiliations will end up discouraging their daughters to take up technology related education. And that is so wrong! Smart is the new sexy! I mean look at the list of amazing role model women engineers. My personal favorite is Radha Basu, maybe because I have met her, spoken with her and definitely believe in her cause. I think having someone to look up to or can relate to in the field of technology, definitely helps.

Another way is, to encourage participation in technology-related events to showcase one's intelligence in the field of technology. During my first Startup Weekend last November, what I witnessed was the low intake of women participants - couple of them with business expertise but very less women developers. This year I am organizing Startup Weekend in Leuven with fellow startup enthusiasts, and I am looking forward to more women participants, and even higher number of women developers!

I think its important that women, all women, irrespective of age and culture, should be encouraged to learn about technology, start startups, etc. But most importantly, she should be encouraged to accept and acknowledge her intelligence and her capability. Most of the times, women feel that they don't deserve success and are apologetic about it. Don't be sorry for being smart! You are your biggest cheerleader, whether in business or in life, so you must be confident and proud of your capabilities. And not chock up your success to luck. I believe women of ALL ages can master their technical skills, do bad ass things developing the technology, and show the whole world that women and girls can rock the tech world, and still look pretty hot in pink!

Thank y'all!

The only wish I had for 2013 was to have an adventurous 365 days ahead. Damn this universe loves granting my wishes! I have been blessed with absurd, exhilarating, and fantastic things I would have never dreamed up on my own. *pinches herself to check if this is for real*

I am lucky because of the people I met/have in my life this year.  What an influx of interesting minds that crossed my path! Its amazing to reflect how each stranger added a new flavor to life with knowledge, character and sheer brilliance. I have now come to believe that the world is full of people who spikes my interests in ways, I otherwise thought, would not have existed. Whether its was talking about spirituality with the guy from the piercing studio, or discussing the importance of celebrating failures with a Silicon Valley trailblazer - I am humbled by what I have learnt, seen and experienced! It feels great to be surrounded by creative and highly passionate people who wants to make a difference in the world. Animated conversations with such individuals always translated into infectious enthusiasm that ultimately fed my energy and drive for past one year. And the more I seek, the more I meet such minds! So thank you, thank you all for the amazing moments we shared!

But 2013 will be incomplete without acknowledging my inner circle (you know who you all are!) You guys have been my worst critics and the most enthusiastic cheerleaders this year. You pushed me when I slacked, and helped me slow down when I moved too fast. Thank you all for always being by my side and silently sharing that much talked about but little understood thing called love. However, I am sorry for being that absentee friend/cousin/sister/daughter on your birthdays, graduation ceremonies, weddings, childbirths and other important events of your lives (I promise I will definitely make it to your retirement parties!) 

Last but not the least, thank you dear readers for bearing with my very irregular writing this year. Trust me I have loads to share, but I have been like this child in the candy store of life - trying out the new and getting excited at the sight of the colourful offerings, so documenting each phase took a back seat. However, one of my resolutions for 2014 is to write a little bit more than today. Maybe make an effort for deeper communication levels as people have complained about my monosyllable replies before.

So whoever you are, and however our paths crossed, I am glad we met, even if for few minutes. Because sometime a few minutes can make an impact for a lifetime. Thank you all for such impacts. I would have hugged you all till you turned blue, but I guess it would inappropriate and life threatening. And so I end this year's final note the traditional Indian way by saying "Namaste", which means I bow to the Almighty (the creative energy) in you.

Project John Galt

"What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it's almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere." - Inception, 2010.

For someone who makes her living out of training people how to find the next BIG idea, I personally am infected with this one idea past few months. Actually it started as incoherent jumble of thoughts, something I brushed off for a long time because it didn't make sense. The more I ran away from them, the more intensely I got chased. I didn't realize how bad this cat-and-mouse chase became, until one dawn I woke up, called my dad and asked to put mom on speaker. I needed an intervention. I spoke non-stop for the next few moments, and they listened  - about this crazy trail of thoughts chasing me and how restless I got to the point of thinking if I am losing my mind. After a long pause (which seemed like forever), my dad said - "No, you are not going mad. Being restless is a good sign. It means you are ready to take the risk." And to which my mom added -" Embrace your thoughts. Don't fight them, see where they lead you. You have nothing to lose." Thank God for having entrepreneur parents, nothing ever seems crazy!

But for me, it was still an unsettling thought. I had to remove myself from that situation and think from a different perspective. So I booked the next flight to Paris, spent the whole weekend with friends eating cheese and drinking wine, and basically trying not to think about the conversation I had with my parents the week before. However in one of those long walks along Seine, finally the thoughts started morphing into shapes in my mind's canvas. Talk about woman being obsessed with an idea. Hah! 

Days changed to weeks, weeks changed to months and I was not perturbed by those thoughts again. Until that fateful Startup Weekend Hamburg event. While sound boarding few ideas with another "start-upper" over one breakfast, my fuzzy thoughts started clearing up. One thing led to another, and by the end of that event, this whole 'craziness' seemed like a rational doable entity with few like-minded crazy thinkers. I don't know what comes next, but last night during a Skype meeting, Project John Galt was officially conceived. 

Why John Galt? If you know what the character stands for, you have basically figured out by now what is the underlying philosophy behind this idea. I haven't had a wink of sleep since last night. I am excited about finding where this new journey is leading me to. Endless possibilities. And I think I am ready this time - Ready to face John Galt.

It happened last night

Ever wondered how much a situation can go worse  on an otherwise wonderful day? Well, everything. When dear Murphy is in town, you better enjoy the ride 'coz shit is going down anyways. For me it was last night. Came back from a day-long symposium on Frugal innovation, only to realize at the doorstep of my flat that I left my keys inside. But this is only the beginning of the eventful night. Flatmate is out town till Sunday, and I have no idea who my landlord is. Took my phone out to call her, only to realize my S2 is out of charge and is dead. So there I was, in the middle of Hamburg city yet completely disconnected from everything else. And you think at this point some miracle will happen in this reality show. Definitely not in mine. Rummaging through my bag, all I found were few sticks of gum, chocolate wrappers, business cards, one book, a 10 euros note and my bus ticket (O' the joy of over-sleeping and rushing out in the morning!) Apparently with my keys, my bank cards were also inside, guess what... my FLAT! Checking into a hotel for the night was no longer an option. Considering Hamburg has more bridges than Amsterdam, my night shelter option was literally flashing in my head at that moment. Another first to my ever-growing list of weird experiences. However, I was not ready to freeze overnight.

So with pocketful of delusion and whatever left of my ego, I walked-in to the nearest shadiest sports bar (another first!) At that point my survival instinct outweighed my dislike for whiskey and dirty bars. I ordered the strongest they have and incidentally got the bartender to help my phone-situation  with a makeshift charger(an iPod plug charger connected to a usb connector that fitted my S2 perfectly), which he had to get from his home two blocks away. So grateful by his gesture that I had to get the next round of whiskey shots for us( I m no Lannister, but I always pay my debts). Meanwhile, it turns out that my flatmate was on the road, without any cell reception. Which implied that I can still continue with my one-night-under-bridge plan, or gamble a bit on my luck, and look for a spare key to my flat (if that existed!). And since I didn't have any contact details of her friends, I sent S.O.S message to her top six friends on her Facebook profile (A little bit of stalking, no harm intended). Now it was all about waiting for response, keeping all my fingers and toes crossed.

You might be thinking why the hell I didn't call any of my friends in the city to crash at their place for the night. Well if I did that, I would have cut-short the excitement of my misadventure that was unfolding quite interestingly so far. Taking the easy way out is always there, but enjoying the struggle is something else. And in the middle of these chaos, I found myself to be unnaturally calm and I am still laughing about it. I know I screwed it up by forgetting the keys in the first place, but worrying much wouldn't have helped me either. And while at it I might as well have a kickass time out of the experience. So I ended up watching the Germany vs. England match in the bar with a bunch of strange, drunk men. Friendly matches are no fun but last night, in that smoky, shady place cheering for Germany with total strangers added the 'zing' factor to my already interesting evening.

The game ended 1-0 (Germany kicking England's ass just like in 2010), and my first SOS response blinked on the phone screen. So there is a spare key in the city! A bit buzzed and a bit elated, I jumped onto the next bus to continue my quest for the key. While I was busy giving the imaginary-fives to myself, I managed to take the wrong bus and reach the other side of the town. By now Murphy was banging his head on the table. However with my newfound sense of purpose to complete this "game-level" successfully before dawn, I dragged me back to the right route only to find myself walking in circles to locate the correct house address. Oh well, the last leg of any race is always the toughest and also the most ecstatic. And to be able to enter my flat last night was against all odds. I am glad that I gambled on me instead of accepting the situation. As always loving the risk, loving the uncertainty and the insanity of life-situations, but most importantly enjoy sustaining it, is where my passions lie. So until the next misadventure Murphy-venture, I take a bow now and humbly pass-out in my bed (still exhausted from last night!)

Of goddesses and of sluts

Today is Mahalaya which means homecoming of Goddess Durga down to earth and this marks as the auspicious beginning of Durga Puja. Listening to the Mahishasuramardini every year by Birendra Krishna Bhadra in the All India Radio on Mahalaya was a tradition I grew up in. This is oratorio of chants to invoke and welcome the Goddess by praying "Jago, tumi jago" – "Arise, O thou arise!" (For those who don't understand Bengali, click here for the meaning.) Apparently, the invoking of Goddess is so powerful and intense that it overwhelms the one who chants it with emotion and reverence.  

Such is the land of India, where men worships goddesses. Ironically, this is also the land where men violates the being of a woman, openly. Now you may refute that laws are changing and the offenders are punished severely. But does it matter? Call me cynical, but even if rapists are given death penalty, this is just a temporary outlier considering the gravity of this hideous crime. We are only fooling ourselves into thinking that one critical judiciary move will change the entire scenario of the nation. Death sentence will not solve the underlying problem - the serious issue of pervasive gender discrimination and violence in India. The truth is, we have failed as a nation. Whats the point of invoking the Goddess Durga every year when you can't protect the living goddesses in your own surroundings? 

This extends from birth to death, starting with female feticide (the male-to-female population ratio is 0.93, worse than it was in 1970) and continuing with very high levels of child marriage (47 percent), teen pregnancy (62 per 1,000), maternal mortality (200 per 100,000 live births), domestic violence (50 percent), and sexual assault (over 24,000 cases reported last year). The numbers are crazy and these are only the reported cases. There are millions of unreported rapes and domestic violences which involves repeated offenders. Most women keep mum either fearing death or bringing "bad name" to the family. They would rather live a life of lajja or shame in silence then nail the bastards that harmed them. Why? It is the society that imposes shame on them. There is this really sick idea that is doing rounds in some circles of Indian society - any form of sexual violence is always provoked by the woman. It is entirely her fault because of her "bad" character or the way she dresses. And make no mistake, these circles I talk about are not the uneducated men from poor sections of the society,  but highly educated ones with fancy profession - people who wear suits to work everyday and stir their coffee clockwise. They are no different from rural men who thinks a woman's place is in kitchen and behind a veil, being forever pregnant and obeying the master of the house. If a young woman wears clothes of her choice, loves partying with her friends, consumes alcohol or flirts with men, then she is called a slut and it is entirely her fault if she gets molested or raped. Its her loose character that should be questioned because she sexually provokes the men in her vicinity. If thats the case, then what about girl children who gets raped and then killed? Were they too sexually provoking their offenders? 

Rape is not sex, its violence. It is a sense of entitlement and power. The rapists mentality reeks with the idea that their victims deserved it and should be shown who is more dominating. Will strict laws ever scare a mindset that refuses to see "weaker sex" as nothing but a mere property that should be "controlled" and be receptacle to male sperms? I think not. Do these men fear of being exposed someday? Nope. Infact, they are super-confident that what they did was right and it was only to bring back some order in society. Rape is not about women sexually provoking men, its about women being more empowered these days. Slowly but gradually, the women -literate or illiterate- knows in their own way what they truly want. They have come to realise who they are and what they can do, despite what male religion and politics say. What men - rapists or otherwise- should start accepting is, even if you try to physically possess our bodies, you have no power over our minds and souls. And someday when this thought is deeply rooted in every men of this country, will these vicious acts of crime finally stop. This is what I hope and pray for the Maa Durgas of the country.

The Cheesecake test initiation (Beta)

If there is one thing I truly miss from my Philadelphia days is a super creamy cheesecake (ok, I miss the super greasy Philly Cheesesteak too!). And somehow the German Käsekuchen wasn't working for me. It is too healthy and the taste of quark still feels alien for me.

The batter - always the delicious start to baking. Too bad I didn't find Graham crackers in Hamburg!

So this time I decided to take matters into my hands and launched the NewYork cheesecake test initiation. The conditions for carrying out the experiment were perfect  - (a) Accidentally I am home for once on a Friday night (b) lots of reading to be done before my next literature meet-up (c) I am in mood for food lab experiments. Mixing the three was possible that evening.

Philadelphia Cream cheese however saves my day!

The book in discussion is Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I think it will be interesting to discuss a book I read a decade ago, keeping in mind the crux of discussion always being "Who is John Galt?" and Ayn Rand's philosophy of objectivism. John Galt is the fictional hero in Atlas Shrugged who quoted the famous line - "I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine". It was his speech towards the end of the book that impacts me, even ten years later. He epitomises capitalism at its purest form - innovation, self-reliance, and free from government interference. Speculating on his views is nothing more than my own conflicted and ambivalent views on governmental regulations. The idea of rational self-interest fits to the T when I think about why India needs budding entrepreneurs and not just "IIT-IIM" smart employees. We have some of the world's best minds, but our entrepreneurial innovators are terrified and infuriated with lack of support from government and most financial institutions. The government is definitely anti-growth and derives sadistic pleasure on creating more (unnecessary) regulations to kill entrepreneurial ventures. 

The sight and the smell of fresh baking that engulfs my house - pure joy!

I come from a family of entrepreneurs, and I am well aware of the all sorts problems raised by Indian government when you want to start a project.  Looking at all the potential of this country, it saddens me that most of them remains untapped. So I wonder, would John Galt be more disturbed by the plethora of governmental regulations, or the government's failure to support entrepreneurial ventures in the country? Two separate situations, but both intertwined with highly complex political and financial challenges. Instead of encouraging to create more jobs to boost the economy, the trend is to get a "safe" job. But is safety worth at the cost of a staggering economy? The funda is simple : no new jobs, less competition in the market, less innovation. Hence rate of progress infinitesimally small. I hate the fact that India is still a developing country. But what disturbs me the most is that most Indians are happy with that status quo. 

Sour cream topping - simple but so delicious!

The truth is Indian entrepreneurs operate in "fight or flight" mode.  Many will attempt to fight their way through by consciously limiting growth (and thus government scrutiny), keeping their employed population a small as reasonably possible. Others have and more will merely exit the field. Others will stay, with regret, in more secure positions rather than enter a rigged game. They will manifest the numbness that grips many a normally stout-heart today. This brings me to another big question : Will "going John Galt" bring a change in the entrepreneurial scenario in India? Fed up with the socialistic world he’s living in, Galt decides to leave and encourages numerous other entrepreneurs to follow him. As a result, the economy more or less grinds to a halt.

Midnight cheesecake party - always the best sharing with friends!

Not long ago, the Father of the Nation did tell us, "If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do." The implications would be dire if our business leaders and entrepreneurs actually decides "going John Galt" . Possible decay in the economic dynamism and lack of employment growth is just the tip of the iceberg. But there will be a revolution - one that protests against government's unconstitutional regulations and taxes. For that, entrepreneurs must take action. Now. Of course, it will be challenging to emulate our larger-than-life fictional hero, John Galt. However we do have exemplary heroes like Dhirubhai Ambani or Steve Jobs, who were infact true-to-life John Galt.

And the morning-after with a cup of coffee.

So if you are an entrepreneur, I challenge you to pick the role model you most identify with, and take actions before you lose your profits, freedom and ability to innovate. Repeat this loudly - "Get the hell out of my way!" everytime the bureaucratic puppets try to control you. The impeding question is no longer "Who is John Galt?" but its more of now "going John Galt". I want more owners and investors in this country to manage the economy. And if this sounds like capitalism outcry , so be it. 

‘The guilt is ours… If we who were the movers, the providers, the benefactors of mankind, were willing to let the brand of evil be stamped upon us and silently to bear the punishment for our virtues—what sort of “good” did we expect to triumph in the world?’ - Atlas Shrugged.

The man who loves his birthdays

My friends often tell me that when it comes to birthdays (either mine or theirs), I get super excited. Sometimes even more than them to celebrate their day. Par kya karoon ? Aaj pata chala hain ki yeh toh genetic locha hain (This is genetic disorder).

I woke up today with a SMS saying, "Happy Birthday to me." And who else could that be other than my old man. So when I teased him he is getting too old to make a big deal out of his birthday, prompt came the reply, "Don't forget my age determines yours as well'. It will be wrong to call this jokestar my dad, 'coz he has been more like a friend to us. Always the life of any party with his humor and impromptu dance moves, I bet today he has quite few aces up his sleeve.

Honestly, I never felt any generation gap between us. He made our childhood Peter-Pan's like, taking us from the Never- Never land of pirates and magical creatures during the bedtime stories to the world of Harry Potter where we did mock spell duels(btw, the only spell he knows is "Lumos").There has never been a dull moment with him even when I was sick 'coz he sang me lullabies till I was old enough to remember the lyrics. Everything always seemed so right because he was always there to tie my hair ribbons, and shoe strings tight. They say Gemini dads are the best, and I got very lucky on that!

Growing up with him was like being a treated as a young adult ever since I can remember. He never built me a doll house, but instead made me a whole hydro-electric power project model for my science fair. We worked the whole night building the model out of plaster of paris, with him adding the minute details like where the worker camps should be during the construction of such project. He taught me not only to dream, but to dream big. And when I decided to leave home at 16, he was the only one who understood my need to be out there to find myself. I am glad he had always let me walk my own path, without burdening me with a list of do's and don'ts like most fathers. No wonder I hum “My heart belongs to daddy!” when I  fix that bulb, pay my bills, negotiate with the boss, and say it how it is to the bank manager. Because in between fun and games, he taught me how to tackle life, be self-sufficient, emanate confidence, and build good relationships with men. 

So on this day when you turned a year "younger", let me  thank you for every single thing you've done for me in life, every single smile you've given me, every single tear that you've gulped on my behalf. And even though I am a bit far away, I promise when I am back home I will bake your favorite cake, and we shall toast to the new year of your life with your favorite whiskey (I will get that as well!). Love you Papa, you are the best!

Birthday boy doing what he does best - living larger than life!

Trip to the Dark Side of the Moon... and back

I write this as I am coming down from my Dark Side of the Moon trip. Last night I  experienced what I can best describe as feeling - infinite. The Pink Flyod audio-visual tribute at Hamburg Planetarium was a total treat to all the senses. The cosmic stage set with choreography of 3D images, laser beams and occasional smoke released in the air was blockbuster stuff. Of course, the music from the entire album, Dark side of the Moon was intense as always, and with the great acoustics you could feel it in your skin. The show is actually a collaboration with the Salt Lake City Planetarium (USA) and proved to be a whole new platform to experience Pink Floyd on the 40th anniversary of the album.

There is something about this psychedelic music that I had always enjoyed listening to sitting upside down among other things. The rush of blood to the head with the music reverberating in the ear drums makes you float higher with the musical crescendo, and then dropping into a dark abyss. The songs remind us of our place in the cosmos, and the fact that how infinitesimally relevant our individual hopes and fears are actually in this vastness. Irony is, these two factors govern our whole lives. Many say the prism in the album cover represents ambition and madness. I think its pretty neat. (For those interested about this artwork, can follow this link further.)

Anyways coming back to the show, the visuals are designed to make you feel like you are on an acid trip. The theoretical smoke released occasionally during the show further confirms my above statement. I love the effect of laser beams cutting through this haze. All in all, the show is a total mindfuck. Excuse the last word, as I find no better way to explain that feeling. As you immerse yourself in that moment, there is love, joy, peace, elation, sadness - all hitting you at the same time. You can either close your eyes and savor the moment, or dare to keep them open and bask in it. Either way, you feel infinite.

There's someone in my head but it's not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon....

Insurance

Mothers are like our old-age insurance

Not only they teach you to get old gracefully

But also show you what you will be like when old,
Like a mirror to the future.

Thank God, mine is an entrepreneur, doctor, an amazing singer - my supermom

But most importantly,

Someone with a Big and Beautiful heart.

Now, I can't wait to get old.

Something borrowed

~Dance Like No One's Watching~

We convince ourselves that life 

will be better after we get married, 

have a baby, then another. 

Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough 

and we'll be more content when they are.

After that we're frustrated that we 

have teenagers to deal with, 

we will certainly be happy 

when they are out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete 

when our spouse gets his or her act together, 

when we get a nicer car, 

are able to go on a nice vacation, 

when we retire. 

The truth is there's no better time 

to be happy than right now. 

If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges. 

It's best to admit this to yourself 

and decide to be happy anyway. 

One of my favorite quotes comes 

from Alfred D Souza.

He said, "For a long time it had seemed 

to me that life was about to begin -real life. 

But there was always some obstacle in the way, 

something to be gotten through first, 

some unfinished business, 

time still to be served, 

a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. 

At last it dawned on me that these 

obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see 

that there is no way to happiness. 

Happiness is the way, 

so, treasure every moment that you have. 

And treasure it more because you shared it 

with someone special, 

special enough to spend your time... 

and remember that time waits for no one.

So stop waiting until you finish school, 

until you go back to school, 

until you lose ten pounds, 

until you gain ten pounds, 

until you have kids, 

until your kids leave the house, 

until you start work, 

until you retire, 

until you get married, 

until you get divorced, 

until Friday night, 

until Sunday morning, 

until you get a new car or home, 

until your car or home is paid off, 

until spring, until summer, 

until fall, until winter, 

until you are off welfare, 

until the first or fifteenth, 

until your song comes on, 

until you've had a drink, 

until you've sobered up, 

until you die, until you are born again 

to decide that there is no better time 

than right now to be happy... 

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

So, Work like you don't need money. 

Love like you've never been hurt and 

Dance Like no one's watching.

- Author Unknown

Came across this poem while ago, and it got stuck in my head since then.  It is a stark reminder of how much we lose while waiting for things to fall in place, for the pieces to fit in the jigsaw of our life, that we often lose sight of all the happiness that has always been around us, and most importantly within us. Ironically, the day all these things fall into place will be the last day of our lives. We are our obstacles, the pain, the gore and everything that is wrong in our lives. We are also the good moments, and the little joys in our lives. Its up to us how we define our lives. A little bit of this, and a little that. Sugar and spice, and everything nice, eh? 

Holmead and "Crude Expressionism"

Art and music needs no language. Once you delve into them, they speak to you in their own way. Personally, I feel every artist has a story to tell.  I don't know much about art, but I admire the story behind every piece of art.

So when I found myself today at a Clifford Holmead Philips art show at Ahrensburg, I was mesmerized by this expressionist's strokes of brush. The young Phillips was born in 1889 and apprenticed in his father's furniture factory in his late teens. His life took a sudden turn when he accidentally ran over a chicken in 1912. German art collector Alfred Moeke, who helped organize the exhibition of Phillips' paintings at Shippensburg University's Kauffman Gallery, says Phillips vowed never again to eat meat or own an automobile. He sold his auto and bought an ocean-liner ticket.

During a six-month journey around Europe, he spent much of his time in art museums and determined to become a painter.

Even though his earlier work was influenced by European expressionism and mostly related to Bibilical myths, it was his later work on capturing human facial expressions that fascinated me the most.

They were dark, cynical and rough. Also I learned for the first time what shorthand painting was all about.

The strokes are harsh, raw, and stark with emotions. The way he consumes the canvas with color and palette knife is simply savage, and very primal. The untamed, and unconventional style reminds me that life force should never be controlled. When the painter paints or the poet composes or the musician plays or the dancer dances, these are all expressions of your life force. Not only are children born out of your sexual energy, but everything that man has created on the earth has come out of sexual energy. And Holmead's works are full of life energy. He said, 'No I am not satisfied with painting a photographic image. Art is more than that.'"