Where is Your Heart?

Often, I am regarded as a top performing employee by external stakeholders and internal stakeholders in my set up. Although it does not surprise me, it does gives me a sense of fulfilment. The answer to how I achieve it lies in my experience across five organisations. Here's first of my lessons:

In the early part of my career, during a training program, I met Joseph, an old man well past retirement. He was teaching us the importance of making to-do lists, prioritising, and developing personal skills.

He had no presentation with him. For five hours in between tea and lunch breaks, he spoke to twenty-odd people in a well-lit room. 

He would make us clap between the sessions so that we stay awake and listen to his ramble. A technique, I witnessed for the first time but certainly not the last time. Honestly, he did not ramble.He spoke. He spoke with all his heart and we listened with rapt attention.

As the program ended I asked him why isn't he carrying a presentation with him, a norm in those days. Pointing his finger at his heart, he said, "I remember it here. If you put your heart in things you will not only remember but succeed too."

Unfortunately, social media was unheard of in those days. LinkedIn was not even born.I wanted to keep in touch with that old man but I did not muster up the courage ask for his email or phone number. I always thought I will retrieve it from the HR department. But, I didn't. 

However, ever since his lesson has stayed with me. I use it every day. But there is a consequence. When you put your heart into the work in a professional environment, the challenges are many.

When working across diverse functions, it is possible that people are not as motivated as you, and their priorities are different than yours.

It leads to workplace conflicts. It is said, that one must not be aggressive, and keep their cool when dealing with the conflict. But, I have noticed over all these years, talking softly has never worked in my favour. I have had to put my foot down and stand my ground on numerous occasions.

Surprisingly, the same colleagues forget the rift, move on, and above all, respond to the call of duty. 

I am thankful to Joseph for teaching me to put my heart into doing things personally and professionally.I do hope to get in touch someday.

Invisible Boat

Yesterday Mom was discharged from the hospital.

Before Mom was admitted to the hospital, before she knew that she was in for a long haul at the hospital, she spoke about a dream - a dream where dad spoke to Mom and took her to a paradise. The scenery which mom described was beautiful.

Dad has been gone for more than thirteen years. I miss dad and often I have seen him my dreams. I have dreamt that we lead absolutely normal lives as if he was alive. Sometimes I dreamt that he watched over me like a guardian. But we never talked.

I have many cherished memories with him. On the other hand, Mom had both kind of memories with him - bitter and sweet. Maybe, it was the reason they talked to each other.

I could have explained to Mom about the science of dream then, but I didn't. I couldn't break her reverie. She needed it.

After Mom got admitted to the hospital, I had series of dreams which were scary, funny, and weird.

These dreams drained me, worried me, and ironically, one of them had me in splits. I drew the line here and applied science to dreams.

It was the only way to defeat and master my fear.

And then, I’d a dream yesterday night.

I walked with my partner on a marshy land, among the darkness of dead green mangroves and sea plants, we heard the waves beat against the shore, happy and madly in love.

We soon were on the shore of a creek, and it was along this creek we found a boat, a boat in which we could escape to a boundless horizon.

In the backdrop of a grey sky, quiet sea, and an absent sun was this boat, anchored.

The boat had a wooden outline, when looked upon closely it resembled a broken dried up branch of a tree, which might have washed up on the shore but I could feel the boat, he could too.

But the boat wasn’t there, it was an invisible boat, yet both of us saw the exact same boat.

And then he said, “You know you should write.Finish what you began.”

I smiled.

I woke up.

I could explain the logic and science of this dream and I am sure you could too, but don't break my reverie yet.

The Metamorphosis - Recap

Yesterday, I was reading a comic caper written by a debutant author on Juggernaut Books. The book was okay except I failed to get intimate to any of the characters. The humour was mostly in the form of punchlines, often delivered without an effect.

I got bored.

I decided that I am not under oath to finish this book right now though I will finish it, eventually. But not today.

Reading The Metamorphosis was on my mind for a long time. Three months to be exact and I'd made at least three attempts to get past the first page, and I failed.

A week back, I saw, it was about only eighty-four pages, and I thought Eighty-Four pages! This could be easy and I could tick off one more reading goal on Goodreads. It is a different matter that I am yet to declare my reading goals, publicly.

So, I embarked upon the journey to read about a Salesman Gregor Samsa who was morphed into a beetle, overnight.

Kafka doesn't delve into the reason of transformation of  Gregor Samsa, but as a reader, I felt compelled to know the reason of this sudden transformation. Based on the information available, I'd two deductions -- either he drank a portion at a shady tavern, or a bug bit him at some textile company.

Unlike me, the reasons of Gregor's condition were the least of the concern for the author and his protagonist. To them, their major concern was that it would be impossible for Georg who is the sole breadwinner, to conduct his duties for the family in the form of a bug.

Slowly, I started enjoying adventures of the vermin that was Gregor Samsa.  His attempts to open the doors of his room which he bolted on the previous night, out of habit, were hilarious to say least.

On two occasions, he babbles out throwing the reader into a fit and scaring away the chief clerk of the company. The world - his sister, father, and mother, and the chief clerk cannot hear him anymore. His words are eerie squeals to them.

At this point, I felt Kafka loved to tease his readers and I also felt that this man knows humour.

GregorSamsa was confined his room, his sister was the only one who attempts to understand him. His father and mother have been left bewildered.

His father has also been left with the important matter of dealing with the finances in the present condition.

Visibly, the family is stressed and worried but they hope that someday Gregor will transform back into a human.

For three months, Gregor Samsa witnesses his family's financial and emotional suffering and regrets his inability to do anything about it.

After a while, Gregor begins to enjoy his life as a bug. His office work, his travel rumination, the chief clerk, all of them become a distant memory to him.

On the other hand, with time becomes difficult for the family to comprehend that Gregor could come back.

Layer upon layer, Kafka digs into the mindset of Samsa household, their feelings and response to the events. As a reader, I devoured these relationships struggle and transformation.

Surprising among these are his dad's transformation.

In a world, which widely divides itself over smallest of reasons, Kafka's hundred-year-old novella brings out the harsh realities of relationships, which ironically aren't different across the globe.

Upon finishing the novel I felt light. I felt there's this another dimension in which I could walk. I felt I am drugged.

I wanted more!

TL;DR - The blogger thinks that the was a literary genius and people must read him.

You can read the book for free here.

Sultana's Dream and Me

Feminism has been made synonymous with the total annihilation of opposite sex, so, I don't wear my feminist badge on my sleeves, publicly.

Also, I don't express my views on anything and everything, that is dished out in the name of feminism these days, in real life or social media.

My feminist thoughts, at the maximum, on the verge of an outrage, are lashed out in a few chat windows, or on my husband, but, never in public.

Begum Rokeya

However, if you Google Sultana's Dream then, everywhere it will show that the story was written by a feminist author Begum Rokeya.

The statement speaks volumes about the author, who also built schools for the education of young girls. She must have been a brave and a fierce lady in a period which was excessively regressive and counterproductive for women.

I was fascinated with  premise of the story, so I dug a bit on the internet, and I found, after reading the manuscript of Sultana's Dream, Begum Rokeya's husband said,

"Terrible revenge."

On Goodreads, not long ago, a reviewer called it, "badass."

Nine out of ten reviewers marvelled at the fact, that, this story was written in 1905, by an Indian Muslim woman, whose first language was Bangla.
 
"1905!  Fascinating," said Gabby, an internet friend whose opinion I have valued ever since I sent her a friend request on facebook.

Sultana's Dream is about a Purdahisin woman Sultana, who travels to Ladyland with another woman whom she mistakes as her friend, Sister Saira.

When she finds out that the woman is not Sister Saira, she is tensed but Sultana is soon comforted by the lady.

In the Ladyland, men are sent in Zenana or Purdah after women of the Land win war against an enemy without any help from men.

In the Ladyland, women are in charge of everything.

Ladyland is full of fearless, confident women and they are everywhere. All the errands are run by a woman.

In fact, these women, call shy Sultana, mannish. Sister Saira tells Sultana,

"They mean you are shy and timid like men."

If you put men or women away in Purdah, then being shy would be natural, irrespective of the gender.

This (Putting Away Men) seems eccentric but Ladyland is prosperous, mud free and science oriented and crimeless.

Sister Saira tells Sultana,

 "But we do not trust our zenana members with embroidery!" she said laughing, "as a man has not patience enough to pass thread through a needlehole even!"

A little further in the story, sister Saira tells Sultana about how men work,

"They dawdle away their time in smoking. Some smoke two or three cheroots during the office time. They talk much about their work, but do little. Suppose one cheroot takes half an hour to burn off, and a man smokes twelve cheroots daily; then you see, he wastes six hours every day in sheer smoking."

Today, we have put men in charge of everything- in education, in the judiciary and in government and I find it's effect in my sister's feedback about the story,

"Here we are in 2017 only, and this text is from 1905, we probably will struggle for hundred or more years."

A dream in 1905 and still a dream in 2017.

The story is whimsical as it is Sultana's dream but, is futuristic.

Begum Rokeya's Ladyland is utopian which emphasises on educating women and use of science such as Solar energy, Rain Water (including storms) harvesting and air-cars. Ladyland has Truth and Love as a religion and is war free.

Putting away men was a trope to tell, women, in fact, are equal or in many cases a better than men.

After reading the story I may have changed the glasses with which I view the world.