Love is a mental disorder

It was a typical setup for such traditional restaurant,high back seats neatly packed against each other with a square table in between. He was sitting next to a young couple having an argumentative conversation and he inadvertently became part of a important chapter of their life story.

“Loving is not always an easy task. Love comes with it's share of pain and guilt. Men fall in love more than women but you simply do not care.” she said.  

“ Yea! when women do fall in love, they become addicted to the feeling more easily. But unfortunately I am not a woman” came the reply.

“People invariably find the person who they fall in love with attractive and they write poetry or sing love songs. You are so different and difficult,” she quipped.

“This is not funny!” he said. “ Love is a mental disorder and I cannot transform into an insane to impress you. I am what I am. Period.”

“What's that you said? Now I know, I must be mad to love you so much” she said with tears in her eyes.

“Different people may exhibit different symptoms of love but when you list them down and compare with the diagnostic criteria of madness, you will realize.I will give you some example..” but before he could continue, she snapped.

“ I do not want any of your stories and explanation. I would rather be mad than sane for the sake of my love.”

“Preoccupation with lover is no different from obsessional illness. Feeling the urge to cry or ecstasy are bipolar disorder often referred to as depression. All points to one reality ….. Love is a mental illness.” He wanted to clear out the smog collecting around their relationship. But she got up and walked of saying ...

“ I was in love but you are SICK! Tomorrow morning I will be better but you will remain a loner till you change yourself ”

She never saw him again........
#thatstory

Deception, thy name is Trompe-l'œil

There is an interesting story about deceptive painting involving two renowned Greek painters from around 464 BC. Zeuxis, once produced a still life so real that it convinced the birds to peck at the grapes in there. Parrahasius, a rival artist later invited Zeuxis to judge one of his paintings after pulling back a tattered curtains in his study. But when Zeuxis tried, he could not, as the curtains too were part of that Parrhasius's painting. 

This form of painting would probably be categorized as l trompe-l'œil.

Trompe-l'œil as defined by Wiki is French for "deceive the eye". This is a technique of art which uses realistic imagery to create the optical illusion that the depicted objects exist in three dimensions. A typical trompe-l'œil mural might depict a window, door, or hallway, intended to suggest a larger room.

This is also written as trompe l’oeil in English and is thought to have originated much earlier than our documented history. Examples are found in murals from Greek and Roman times.

This also reminds me of our own mythological story of Mahabharata. When the Pandevas invited their cousins Kauravas to their new palace, Duryodhan had trouble differentiating real from illusions making a clown of himself in the process.

About a decade ago, I was involved in a project for one of the royals and that was my introduction to the world of trompe l’oeil. We had crew of artist sent out from our Rome office to do carry out the task. It was the female bedroom of the suite in his so to say winter getaway. The idea was to have the drapes painted on the walls to match those installed on the windows. I was the architect overseeing the commissioning of the fit-out and was quite pleased to be part of the overall experience. While leave some imagery from that job here, I will save the description of its application process for another time and place.

Life is not fair

Life is not fair.It is a thought she felt started to cross her mind more often than anyone else in the whole world. This negative feelings came back without fail during her childhood whenever things went against her wishes. In the face of all odds of being a single parent, her mother was the epitome of positivity, who always kept her motivated. That was some 24 years back when she was just a little girl of 10 and could barely perceive what fairness in life really meant.

“ I am born out of a wedlock and have never seen my father” was her biggest complaint. As a teen, she could barely find solace in the assurance that she was a love child born out of deep love and affection between two persons. It was too deep a philosophy for her to understand the complexities of human lives, their social constraints, their limits and helplessness. A couple who love each other cannot always get married and it is their love that let one see the constraints and shines the light to move on.

“ Life's not fair!”was the first thought that came to her mind this morning. She could feel that he was gone. And, soon this house, this bedroom, the furniture, the garden with the trees they planted together will have little meaning. The hibiscus, the rose, the marigold in the garden will lose their colors and look pale.

They both agreed that this relationship was on borrowed time with no future of its own. The temptation of stealing this period of togetherness weighed much heavier than being with someone else for eternity.  Now that he is gone, it was the strangest feeling she ever had.

Maybe it is her destiny that she was re-living a chapter from her mother’s life or perhaps it was coded into her genes...

On the way to Reunion

The Reunion“I shall name him Ujjyal”, my grandfather declared soon after the birth of his first grandchild. “He shall bring glory to the family”, was his wish first time as he saw me. His dream, I learnt later was to see his grandson take charge of large construction projects. As a young boy, he was fascinated by a British Engineer in charge of constructing the long span rail bridge across the village river. He himself had done quite well considering the humble beginning and accumulated significant amount of wealth during his lifetime. Over the years he developed an uncanny habit of investing in the right business, right property and right people. If there was one thing that he missed was the genuine respect of people. The respect doctor, an engineer or a collector so easily commanded all the time. Since his children couldn’t fulfill his dream, it was passed down to his grandson. The family had moved to Lutyens’ Delhi from neighboring Haryana soon after I was born. My father inherited the business acumen and created a business empire no one in the village would dare to dream. He kept the doors open to new ideas, never ignoring the latest trends or buzzes. Wealth came with its natural privileges allowing us the passage to most sought after schools, clubs along with social acceptance among the New Delhi elites. Though I had two younger siblings, it was me who remained the chosen one to fulfill grandpa’s dream. I was engrossed in those thoughts when the alarm went off breaking my state of trance.It was still dawn when I stepped out of the cab and walked towards the entry gate of the Delhi airport. The early morning February air was pleasantly cold.I was travelling to Bengaluru to attend a college friend's wedding. It had been four years since we graduated from the same college. This wedding was also going to be a reunion of our batch-mates. But what I didn't know was that the reunion would begin much ahead of time; right in the queue in front of the airline counter.
I was almost certain it was she. Same height! Same long hair! Same complexion! Curiosity had my eyes glued to her for about 60 endless seconds, and when she turned, she proved me right. My ex-girlfriend stood two places ahead of me in that queue. We had never met after the college farewell.I still remember the first time I saw Anna in our college campus with that rustic look so commonly visible on the streets of Delhi. But for her it came with a combination of tremendous self-confidence and a pair of very expressive dark eyes. The naughty smile in the left corner of her lips appeared to be carefully cultivated. She might not be a conventional beauty but was attractive enough for me to have her image engraved in my memory since the first sight. It is so much different from the person who is standing ahead of the queue today.The past five years I have reminded myself again and again that I had willfully and forcefully got myself removed from Anna’s life. I carefully nurtured an environment that would foster mistrust, anger and frustration. Eventually when I succeeded, I was more hurt than anyone else. If you have to elucidate your position, they say you need to break the ice spontaneously when you come across that person. If you hesitate, it will be even more daunting and that's precisely what had happened when our glances met. I hesitated and turned away not knowing what to do or say. She walked away after checking-in while I stood there with my adrenaline rushing up. First I wished for our seats to be next to each other and then I decided to request the lady at the counter for that.“Good morning sir! May I have your ticket please”, she said courteously.“Yes, off course,” I stretched my hand and then quickly supported it on the counter.“Only one bag?” she asked“and a handbag” and after a pause requested “may I have a seat by the window.”“Sure, sir” was the answer.
I despised moments like this for failing to put forward a simple request,while having no problems making business pitches or board presentations. I left it with destiny and I hated it.The flight was only half full. Neither Anna nor anyone else sat beside me. I closed my eyes and went back to my incomplete morning thoughts.“Marriages are made in heaven”, but no one has ever defined any specific place where boys would fall in love. It could happen anywhere but if a list was made, engineering college campuses will surely top it. There must be something in the air that makes boys so much more vulnerable. But when we look at the number of successful relationships evolving from those affairs, it's anyone’s guess how far are those places from heaven. Marriages are definitely not made in engineering colleges, I was convinced. There of course shall be exceptions like Aniket and Vanshika, whose wedding is turning out to be the first reunion of our batch mates with near 100% attendance. I remember the day was 28th of January. A day that was no special to the place or the country. Neither was it of any importance to all those who lived around us. I decided to make it very special for myself and Ana. I believed this decision was going to change our life forever. I had been close to her for more than a year by then and we were very comfortable in each other’s company. When I proposed to spend rest of our lives together, she did not have to think twice before accepting.“This is the second life changing incident of my life” was all that she told that day. She confided later that the first one was during her childhood days and gave such lucid description that I could still visualize it.The scene in a developed country or a large Indian metropolitan city would be very different, she said. There would be frenzy of activities with ambulance, sirens and men in white uniforms running with stretchers. She described the little girl of 4 years and 7 months, who stood by the door of their humble house of 3 and half rooms. The dilapidated white ambulance, a Second World War remnant too did not turn up at their door steps that day. They were simply not
important enough.  She felt an aura of gloom around her though could not comprehend its gravity.Since that day everyone was worried about Mohit uncle, her father’s elder brother who lied on the bed helplessly. She was not allowed to enter his room as freely as before. She watched him and her family suffer for the next 5 years and a half. Each of those days made her more resolved to be a doctor to relieve others of their pain and agony. But going through a medical college was too much for her their limited means. Her good grades however got her into this engineering college of great repute.In the 1980s, Indians in smaller towns typically lived under conditions of near-pan-optical surveillance. Any purchase made at the neighborhood store registered not only in their register but also in the eyes and the memories of the shop keeper who knew the entire family. The young girls were more under scrutiny than anyone else. She couldn’t as much walk to the post office without her movement having tracked and analyzed. In the contrast the contemporary condominiums in the cities and the suburbs offered a striking degree of anonymity where it was no longer a rule that one has to know her neighbors.Coming to Bengaluru from a small town called Amarpur and adjust the complexities of a big city life was challenging for young Anasua. The most difficult of all was to handle the independence and anonymity, but it was only a matter of time before she would transform herself to the Anna I came to like, love and sometimes hated myself for doing so.“Hello stranger”. A familiar voice from the past woke me up. At first I thought I must be dreaming. Looking to my right I found Anna sitting next to me with her magnetic smile.“What a wonderful surprise”, I continued without stopping for a breath.“It is so good to see you! You know, I wanted to come and meet you. I even wanted to ask for a seat next to you. But I couldn't do it and you beat me once more. You were special and you continue to remain special.”

Manhandling a Jacket, Allen Solly way

Till this time “mishandling” and “yours truly” never featured in the same sentence. Last week an attempt has been made to tarnish the reputation built over years by representatives of Madura Fashion & Lifestyle, the company that owns the brand Allen Solly.  I have been accused of mishandling a jacket, for Christ’s sake! By this post I shall make others aware and caution others to be careful as this could happen to anyone. I could approach them as I purchased from a physical store in a high end mall, I shudder to imagine how desperate who purchases online would be.

We used to buy Allen Solly products as it is an Indian brand and in the same time lending support to the Make in India initiative in our own way. A premium brand is distinguishable by its willingness to accept its deficiencies and addressing those to ensure total value to their customer. Little did we know that Allen Solly in its dealing with us will demonstrate none of these characteristics while pretended to be one.

The shocker came in the form of my Allen Solly Jacket which I had worn sparingly for 3 odd months.  A casual jacket is seldom worn and more so when one resides in the Middle east where the opportunity to use worm clothes comes once in a blue moon.  After using it on a few occasions, I noticed the collar of the jacket having a defect of peeling.  Following winter, I took it back to the store in Kolkata. The staffs were visibly embarrassed and decided to send it to Bangalore for replacement, verbally assuring us that it was a manufacturing defect and the company would compensate.

A month later the store informed that the quality team has sent the jacket back and I received a letter stating that it was neither a defect of the fabric nor that of manufacturing. On a follow-up email they informed that based on comprehensive analysis by “Quality Care Cell” they concluded that the damage is noticed due to mishandling of the product. 

How does one mishandle the collar of a jacket that it starts peeling off?  Obviously, they did not accept the product is of substandard material and shied off from their responsibility of replacing the faulty product. At the very least they could have rendered an apology for selling substandard material to a customer in the garb of premier product.

I have made my decision not to purchase their products again and would caution people to learn from my experience and be prudent while making the next purchase decision. It’s another reminder for, “all that glitters are most certainly not gold”.

I am reproducing the mail that they had sent 

Our old teacher

Myanmar is under the spotlight as Ann Suu Kyi is finally set to have a say on her country’s affairs. She made big sacrifices to ensure democratic rights for common people and in the process becoming an inspiration for countless young people around the world. Myanmar has been under international scanner in the past decades but this time it brought back one childhood memory.

The only time we had a private tutor coming to our home was when I was in grade 3 and my elder sibling was in the 4th. He was an old man in his sixties with balding head, thick eyebrows and a hardened face that bore marks of tough journey his life has endured. Our association lasted less than a year but I still have some memory from those early days. His primarily role when I think back was to help with our homework and engage us in some routine activities. As a consequence we were disciplined about our afternoon study sessions, something that continued all through our student life. 

For us he was irritatingly punctual, never missing to turn up at the correct time every afternoon. My sister once demonstrated how easily ink from her pen got soaked into his khadi kurta. I thought it was a sweet revenge but her argument was that she was verifying if he washes his clothes.

At times he shared some of his life experiences and the one that I remember vividly was his escape from Rangoon on foot. In 1941 when Japan was planning to attack British administration in Burma, he told us the law and order situation in Rangoon worsened rapidly. Indians with the scars of Burmese riots of the past decade still fresh, panicked and prepared to leave. The Japanese air raids on Rangoon in December that year created chaos. The perception of people was that the British would withdraw leaving behind the Burmese mob to plunder the Indians. A mass exodus started.

The British administration restricted the exit through waterway to British and Anglo Indians only. With the railroads bombed, they were left with no other choice but walk on foot. Even the shorter road known as the “White path” were reserved for army and other government personnel. They were forced to take the long and perilous path called the “black route”. It was a long trek through the mountains and forests in the north. They were clearly not prepared for such a journey. The transit camps along the route were running above capacity. Rainwater trapped in the layers of banana plants once saved his life inside a dense forest and many a times they improvised in order to filter stagnant water.

People moved in closed groups of trustworthy companions and mostly within their tribes. The worst sufferers were women, children and many perished on the way. There were no one to remove the corpses as people left behind their deceased. Some even walked off to save their life without completing the cremation of their own children. Their state of the mind was such that no one even bothered to remove the gold ornaments from their dead before marching away.

It was too difficult for young minds to reason such miseries inflicted by human on fellow beings. There were lessons to be learned from the story our father had explained, “You need to believe in yourself and have determination to successfully make a journey of such magnitude. When one is struck between a rock and a hard place with no alternatives, one gets enormous strength to fight for survival”, he told us.

Unfortunately, people around the world continue to push others to make such perilous journeys and they continue to perish in large numbers.

Checklists & Construction Success

This was first published in LinkedIn

I have been a proponent of checklist all through my construction management days and I usually practice what I champion. The checklists has been part and parcel of construction process and procedures for years. Other high risk industries like Aviation, or ship building too uses this as missing a step could result into expensive losses of time, money and sometimes human lives. The Hedge fund managers too have their own checklists.

In our industry it is mandatory to attach a checklist while submitting “method statements” or ITP (Inspection and Testing Protocol) for consultant’s review. These are equally important while conducting a Risk Assessment before commencing a fresh construction activity at sites.

It is difficult to apprehend why there should be such resistance in implementing a powerful tool like this one in their day to day work activities. It would be interesting if a research was carried out to find out if the reason behind this reticence is ignorance, over confidence, the “I don’t need it, I know it all” state of mind or a combination of many such factors.

As a matter of fact, Checklist are tools to make an expert perform better. Human memory and attention often fails when it comes to routine matters and important aspects can be easily overlooked. Checklist can solve our dilemma about when to follow the protocol and when one’s own instincts. It also comes handy when faced with a situation requiring us to process high volume of information.

Aviation pilots uses one before takeoff and landing and someone once explained that is not a recipe for how to fly a plane but a reminder of key things that often get forgotten or missed if not checked. Since then when I notice the aircrew making the routine checks before takeoff, I get reassured.

The organizations that practically implement these processes are few and far in-between. This results in high volume of avoidable rework and frequent incidents leading to life changing losses to humans. The direct impact on the project is invariably low quality, higher cost and delayed completion.

It was a shot in the arm listening to Dr. Atul Gawande, a Boston based surgeon highlighting the advantages of using Checklists in his TED talk. His narration about collaborating with WHO to develop a universal “surgical checklist” and making significant difference to the world was very intense. He admitted that the idea of checklist was borrowed from high risk industries such as aviation and skyscraper construction. Interestingly enough it was a team from Boeing who provided him assistance while preparing the first checklist for medical field.

Checklist can be categorized into two distinct types. The first one is “Do-Compare” checklist for general routine tasks which one does out of memory and compare against the list. The second one is “Read-Do” checklist are like recipe and mainly for events that are very new for the users.

I wish we play our part to use this powerful tools more extensively to improve the KPI (key performance indicators) as well as make our construction project sites a safer place to work.