The Concept of Fairness

Present time, Ladies Washroom Cubicle

Fairness - "The quality of treating people in way that is right or just; without discrimination in judgment", according to the Cambridge English Dictionary, one of the top results for fairness on Google.

In the privacy of the washroom cubicle Naina let her hot tears fall as she Googled the word that was on her mind ever since her showdown with her Manager and Senior Manager. No, she wasn't sad. She was furious and something else, which she couldn't quite put her finger on. After this incident, it felt like the rose tinted glasses through which she had thus far viewed the world had fallen away and she was only just beginning to see the world with all its cracks and ugliness. It was a rude awakening. A feeling akin to a rug being pulled out from under her feet, a sense of instability. Her faith in the goodness and fairness of the world was shaken.

                                                                                          

                                                                                         ***

Naina thought back to the time she had joined this company as a fresher, a year ago. She had been so psyched about being tagged to a project straight after her training. Many of her batch mates were still on 'the bench'. In those initial months, Naina's motivation levels were very high. She was a quick learner and her manager, Kabir, recognising her skill and ability, gave her progressively more and more challenging work. The first few months were blissful for Naina. She woke up each morning excited to go to work. To her, Monday blues didn't exist. She got to learn a lot about her field and the way of doing things during this time.

From early on, Naina had an excellent work ethic and she readily took ownership and responsibility for all the tasks that she was assigned. Her manager made it a point to give her credit where it was due and to make her understand where her work fit in, in the larger scheme of things for the organization. The environment was very conducive to growth, especially because even criticism was given constructively and in a very considerate manner - over one on one meetings. Such criticism was not frequent for Naina but the few times that it did come her way, she would accept it gracefully.

All was well for about six months, after which Kabir was given an opportunity to work at the client-side in the USA. A senior member of the team, Hitasha was promoted to serve as the manager in his place. Naina was not particularly concerned, because she had gotten well enough along with Hitasha in the past. Until Hitasha learned the ropes, Kabir managed the team remotely. After a few weeks, Hitasha took over from Kabir in all capacities.

That Hitasha would prove to be Machiavellian in her management style came as a surprise to Naina. In all of Naina's previous interactions with Hitasha, she had never seen the domineering, 'my way or the high way' side of Hitasha's character. Still, Naina gave her the benefit of doubt because she supposed Hitasha needed the team members to now see her as the boss, someone who gets work done and is tough as nails. Thus, some equations between Hitasha and the team began to change. They now had a subordinate - supervisor relationship with each other.

In a few more weeks it became apparent that Hitasha was taking her authoritarianism a bit too far. For fear of being seen as a 'soft' manager, she had taken to micromanagement to ensure that work was being done exactly as she wanted it. She tried to win over clients by committing to deliver projects in lesser time than the team required to actually complete the work. She would then make the team put in extra hours or weekends to help her meet the unrealistic deadlines that she had already committed. She rarely permitted team members to even apply for leaves. She would publicly berate any team member whose work she deemed unsatisfactory, in that harsh voice of hers that carried throughout the floor.

She used the same technique to manage both diligent workers and slackers, much to the indignation of the former, who took pride in their work and needed but a gentle reminder or constructive feedback to prod them along. What Hitasha managed to achieve by this was not cooperation from the slackers who couldn't care less anyway, but a sharp dip in motivation of the diligent workers. They felt that Hitasha was constantly breathing down their necks and yelling at them. They could do nothing right no matter what they did, so what was the point in even trying? To top it all, Hitasha also indulged in favouritism. It was ironic that she yelled more at the diligent workers than at the slackers, some of whom she had an affinity to. Since Hitasha's tyranny began, six out of thirteen people in the team submitted their resignations within weeks of each other.

Naina tried to stay out of Hitasha's way as much as possible. She did her work as best as she could within the tight deadlines. Hitasha started allocating tougher and tougher tasks and projects to Naina which initially seemed like a good thing. Problems started cropping up when the complexity of the tasks increased so much that Naina realised that her close to one year of experience in the organization was not sufficient for her to do justice to the project. She needed time to reach out to people more skilled and experienced than herself in order to proceed. This time was not accounted for in the tight deadlines set by Hitasha. So Naina ended up submitting a couple of tasks late, because she believed in quality work even if it took slightly longer. However, Hitasha could only see that the deadline was not met. She held Naina responsible for losing face in front of the clients. This put Naina in Hitasha's bad books.

Hitasha's eye, (much like Sauron's from the LOTR) was on Naina now. The tough projects kept coming in, always with unrealistic deadlines. Over the months, Naina's speed and accuracy improved but her motivation levels were not what they used to be. This was attributed to Hitasha humiliating her everytime she didn't submit a project on time, while at the same time always forgetting to appreciate her when she did keep to the deadline, even though the times when Naina did a good job were more frequent than those when she didn't.

The stress at the workplace started taking its toll on Naina's health. Her appetite while at work was almost non-existent due to acidity. It was with a heavy heart that she entered the office each day. Weekends were eagerly looked forward to, the way a prisoner would look forward to an escape. This was when Naina realised the importance of a peaceful work environment which nurtured its employees. No amount of money could justify such a toxic work environment, at least to her. She actively started seeking other job prospects.

                                                                                          

                                                                                         ***

The last straw was a few weeks ago. Naina had already been working on a complex project when she was given another task. The task was simple but tedious requiring at least half a day. Hitasha who usually came in at 11 a.m. and worked till 8 p.m. sent an email about the task allocation to Naina and another team member, Vinay at 2 p.m. Naina worked in the 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. shift. Ping! Her computer signalled a new email. It was the task allocation email from Hitasha. 'To be completed by EOD today', the mail read. Naina stared at the mail in disbelief. Her day ended in the next three hours. This was completely ridiculous. She told Hitasha that she couldn't do it that day, her shift would end soon and this would require half a day.

Hitasha was completely unmoved. 'You aren't leaving this office until you finish that task. I don't care how late it gets,' she said.

Naina saw red. Not being allowed to go home was a low blow. It was something she resented above all else. How dare Hitasha? 

'I'll try,' said Naina defiantly and stormed away.

'I don't want you to try. I want the task finished today. Or else... ', Hitasha ranted to Naina's disappearing back.

Naina knew she wouldn't be able to complete the work that day, but she got started with it and stayed in office till 6:30 p.m. She would now be able to finish the work before 11 a.m. the next day before Hitasha arrived. In the process, Naina missed the office shuttle that took her home each evening at 5 p.m. Getting home was a bit of a struggle without the shuttle because the office was in the middle of nowhere.

The next day a nasty email from Hitasha awaited Naina. Hitasha had complained to the Senior Manager about Naina always 'leaving early' and 'neglecting work'. It was apparently a trend she had noted right from the time she started managing this team. The unfairness of it hit Naina hard. She finished the cursed task and then went to ask her colleague Vinay if he had submitted the task the previous day. He laughed it off saying he would do it in a few days and that he had informed Hitasha about it. More unfairness. Tears of anger a welled up in Naina's eyes and she quickly excused herself.

Naina wrote to the Senior Manager saying she believed she had been treated unfairly and requested a one on one meeting. The meeting was scheduled for noon that day - in a meeting room and not an open cubicle, thankfully. Naina arrived five minutes early mentally prepping herself up for what lay ahead. In walked the Senior Manager, Biswas, a man of about fifty. Naina had interacted him a few times to brief him about the projects she had worked on. He was not the type of person who would instil confidence in someone. The original Machiavelli, he had been Hitasha's primary mentor. Chances were he would take Hitasha's side of the argument, but Naina had to try. A few minutes later Hitasha sauntered in.

'Okay Naina, tell me what the problem is,' said Biswas with a smile aimed to intimidate. Hitasha fixed her gaze on Naina scornfully.

Naina told him about having to complete tough projects in unrealistic times, about the most recent task which she had turned in a day late. She also talked about how Vinay had been allowed more time to work on a similar task whereas her own request for more time had been denied.

Naina looked at Hitasha as she told them about how she came at 8 a.m. everyday. Everyone else came late, even Hitasha, so she only saw that Naina left at 5 p.m. She never paused to think that this girl has been here for nine hours. Hitasha always assigned her more work after 2 p.m. and expected her to complete it the same day. It was important for Naina to catch the office shuttle that left at five because otherwise travelling home was a struggle.

To this Hitasha said, 'If you want fixed hours, you should look for a government job. This place is not for you.'

'That's easy for you to say, you always leave on time. Besides, you have a laptop, you can work from home anytime,' Naina shot back at Hitasha.

'Now, now,' Biswas interjected with a chuckle.

He continued, 'I agree with Hitasha. If you are not up to the long hours you are not fit for this job. All the other team members remain in office till 9-10 p.m.'

Naina pointed out that they were all bachelors who lived away from home, so naturally they preferred to stay in office, have dinner and then leave for their rooms where they would have no one to talk to and nothing much to do. Long hours didn't necessarily mean efficiency.

Biswas continued as if Naina hadn't spoken, 'You must also know that we are answerable to clients. Do you know that we have to hear much worse from them if we don't deliver projects on time, than what you hear from Hitasha?'

'Have you given a thought to why she is so hard on you? She is under a lot of pressure and people like you waste her time this way. Still she is doing a commendable job.'

'Now I don't want to hear any more complaints about you. Do you understand?'

Naina was speechless. The two of them had teamed up against her and now there was no reasoning with them. They simply refused to listen to her. Even if they did listen, they would twist the problem around so that the finger was always pointed at Naina. They had successfully pushed her into a corner.

Naina hung her head and nodded. Her foremost thought at this moment was to escape to the washroom before she lost her composure. The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of these people. She didn't want to give them that power. With herculean effort, she managed to hold up just long enough. She excused herself and rushed to the nearest washroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Hitasha's triumphant expression.

                                                                                        ***

Back in the Ladies Washroom Cubicle 

As a child, Naina's parents had always taught her to be fair. Even if the world wasn't fair in return. During the blissful oblivion that was her childhood, she hadn't fathomed the ways in which the  world could be unfair. But now she knew. And it made her feel such a sense of being wronged that she almost couldn't breathe. The tears had stopped. Now came a sense of resignation. Hitasha and Biswas would never admit to being in the wrong. She could complain to Human Resources, but what was her word against that of two managers? It would get messy. 

Naina took two deep, steadying breaths, dried her face and stepped out of the cubicle. Looking at the mirror, she tried to right her appearance as best as she could and walked back to her desk. She knew what she had to do. She logged into the employee portal, filled out the resignation form and hit the submit button.

                                                                                         ***

The three months of notice period were hell for Naina. But at least she knew she would soon be out of this place. She had given several interviews for jobs in the meantime and had been selected at two places which seemed promising. She would select one of these as her next workplace after some consideration. Due to this ordeal,  she at least knew what she 'didn't' want her workplace environment to be like. Thank God for small favours, she thought wryly. She had also come to the difficult conclusion that much of the world is not a fair place. But we must always set off assuming that it is,  at least for our peace of mind. If it later turns out that it isn't fair, well, we can't do much about it, except be strong, stay true to our principles and values and try to improve the situation to the best of our ability. If that doesn't work, the only option that remains is to get out of the situation. Staying and fighting is just not worth the emotional toll it takes on us.

                                                                                       

                                                                                          ***

On her last day in the organization, as Naina sat composing the customary 'Goodbye Email', her mind came up with a lot of choice things to say to Hitasha and Biswas. But she overcame the urge, because she didn't want to stoop to that level. It would mean that they still had power over her and she was trying her hardest not to let it affect her sense of confidence and self worth. It was soon time to leave. She mustered will power and walked up to Hitasha and Biswas to bid them farewell. Biswas told her that she had done more harm than good to the project. Naina took the words with a smile and turned away. Though they hurt, they didn't do as much damage as she had feared.

She packed her bag and walked out of the office with her head held high, her mind singing, 'Good Riddance, Good Riddance' on a loop. As she sat at her favourite window seat in the five p.m. shuttle, she heaved a huge sigh of relief. She was free at last. What a coincidence that the next day was 15th August, the Independence Day!
                                                                                            
                                                                                         --X--

My Best Friend's Wedding

There was festivity in the air. It was a riot of colours. Red, the colour of love, was predominant. Melodious strains of shehnai could be heard playing in the background. Flowers adorned walls, doors and windows. It was a happy day. A day which would see two young people being bound together in holy matrimony.

The banquet hall was bathed in soft yellow light. Guests: relatives and friends of the bride and groom were mingling. Weddings are after all times when all relatives, near and dear, take time out from their busy, disparate schedules and assemble together to bless the newlyweds. Topics for conversation were no doubt many. There was a lot of ground to be covered, starting from the last time they had met each other. Children banded together, delighted to have so much company. Teenagers could be seen clicking selfies to go on their various social networking profiles.

A stage was set up at the front of the banquet hall. It was carpeted in red velvet and rose petals. In the middle of the stage, a mandap decorated with colourful flowers was set up. Holy fire burned in an iron vessel enclosure.

My eyes followed my best friend as she walked the seven sacred steps around the fire with the man who would be her husband. She was the most beautiful bride ever. Resplendent in her elegant red silk sari, matching jewellery and flowers adorning her hair. But her best adornment remained her genuine happiness, which added a radiance to her face which I hadn't seen before. It made her look ethereal, despite her tired eyes, the aftereffect of having had to be on her feet for major part of the past few days, engrossed in the wedding preparations.

I was struck by a wave of nostalgia as I watched the look of quiet resolve on her face, the determined straightness of her posture, the small, private smile on her face. She was ready for this. Ready to leave behind her adolescence and step into adulthood, ready to take on the responsibilities that would be heaped on her by the society post marriage.

How had time flown so quickly? It seemed like it was only yesterday when I met her for the first time. We had both been twelve. I had been made to sit beside her in class. After just one day at school spent in countless conversations with her, I knew we would be best friends for life. We had so many fond memories together.

The marriage ceremony was complete. My friend was a married woman now. My eyes started to well up. Melancholy swept over me as everyone stood up to sprinkle rice and flowers on the newlyweds. A part of life as I knew it was over. Our childhood was gone. We were on the precipice of adulthood. Would we lose each other in the maze of responsibilities, keeping up appearances and fulfilling expectations? The thought made me cringe. I realized I was not alone in feeling miserable when my eyes fell on my friend's mother making a herculean effort not to burst into tears. My heart went out to her.

It was time to go up to the stage to wish the newlyweds. I quickly wiped my tears and schooled my features. Wearing a smile which didn't quite reach my eyes, I walked towards the stage. When I came to face my friend, her infectious happiness broadened my smile automatically.

Despite my best efforts, two traitorous tears managed to escape. My friend's eyes were wet too. "Congratulations girl! Don't be a stranger", I said in a shaky voice while hugging her tightly.

"Never", she replied with a wink. Her voice was steady. "You are stuck with me for life." I managed a small laugh at that.

I turned to her husband to shake his hand. "Don't you worry", he told me solemnly. "I'm going to take good care of her."

"Thank you", I said. I could see the mutual love and respect my friend and her husband had for each other. Comforted that my friend was in good hands, I took my leave.

I felt my melancholy giving way to happiness for my friend. And this time, my smile reached all way up to my eyes.

***
(Image created using www.canva.com)

Where the Mind is Without Fear

I

It was a beautiful Monday morning in Ahmedabad. The sky was an unadulterated blue and only the chirping of sparrows, crows and the occasional Pariah Kite, broke the silence of the otherwise quiet morning. It was not yet time for the morning traffic, so the air was not filled with irritating honks and curses thrown at people for bad driving. February had given way to March but despite being sunny, mornings were pleasantly cool.

Twelve year old Drishti was excited to go to school that day. Her parents had finally deemed her old enough to commute to school on her bicycle.

A van had been in the employ to transport Drishti to school and back, ever since she started school at the age of three. Anywhere between ten and twelve children used to be squeezed into the van for each trip. This was fine when Drishti was young. As she grew older and taller, Drishti started hating van travel, with its cramped spaces. That's why when her parents bought her a bicycle - a pretty lavender Ladybird - she resolved to learn to ride it well enough to be allowed to go to school on.

She had learnt to ride the cycle in half a day. However, convincing her parents had taken more effort.

"It's not safe for a child to be on the streets alone, in this big, bad world", Mother said.

Drishti couldn't argue with that logic so she looked beseechingly at Father.

Father was silent for a few minutes. Drishti patiently waited for him to announce his decision. She knew he was weighing the pros and cons of allowing her on her own. After some deliberation, he finally said, "Okay, you may go."

Drishti was delighted, but she didn't dare feel completely victorious just yet. She tentatively turned her gaze to her mother.

For a moment Mother looked betrayed at Father's decision, then she sighed and said, "I suppose I need to stop protecting you from the world all the time and let you take some decisions on your own. You are old enough."

Drishti gave a triumphant whoop and threw her arms around her parents.

"I promise I'll drive safely!", she said as she skipped away to clean her cycle till it gleamed and to ensure that it had enough air in its two tyres. Her parents shook their heads, smiling. Drishti's happiness was contagious.

This was yesterday. Today, Drishti got ready for school earlier than usual. She had butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't particularly nervous, it was just anticipation and excitement at the prospect of finally, finally being able to ride her cycle to school. 

The school was not very far from her house, just ten minutes of cycling down a straight road with minimal traffic. At 7:20 a.m. Drishti secured her school bag in the cycle's carrier, placed her water bottle in the front basket and set off, waving goodbye to Mother when she rounded the corner. School started at 7:40 a.m., so Drishti figured she would reach with at least ten minutes to spare.

As her building disappeared behind her, Drishti felt a thrill like no other. It was a perfect day to cycle. Slightly sunny, just the right amount of warm and cool. There was also a light breeze that made her neat pigtails sway. It was a different feeling altogether, being able to drive oneself to one's destination. She felt free, independent and in control of her life.

The roads were familiar to her, having lived in the same locality all her life. She passed by several of her neighbours out on their morning walk. She called out greetings to each of them as she sped past. By 7:30 a.m. she was at her school gate. She felt a huge sense of accomplishment and it was with a grin just as huge that she asked the gatekeeper where the cycle parking was.

Till the previous week, students parked their cycles along the back of the school building. This was a temporary parking space to be used until the basement parking was made ready. The gatekeeper pointed to an open shutter just beside the main steps leading up to the school. It was painted the same colour as the school wall which was probably why it had slipped Drishti's notice all this time.

Beyond the shutter, Drishti could see the beginnings of a corrugated slope leading down into the basement. As she watched, a student descended the slope on his cycle and disappeared into the darkness below. Drishti gulped. She had never ridden on slopes. This slope looked especially menacing with its corrugations and turns. Her thrill from having ridden the cycle to school by herself was starting to ebb away at the thought of having to go down that slope to reach the basement parking.

The gatekeeper smiled at her apprehension and said, "You can get off your cycle and push it down the slope if you're scared."

Even pushing her cycle down the slope seemed fraught with danger. What if she lost control of her cycle and it hurtled down the slope, with her bag and water bottle falling off? Many such scenarios played themselves on her mind in a loop, scaring her further. But she couldn't just stand there. The clock was ticking, it was already 7:35. She had five minutes in which to park her cycle and reach class.

She steeled herself and cycled towards the now open shutter. At the beginning of the slope, she stopped and got off her cycle. She surveyed the slope. It wasn't a long one. It had a turn towards the end as it met the basement floor. On one side of the slope was a wall and on the other side were pillars at equal distances. It was this side that seemed treacherous. Drishti told herself that she would be fine as long as she stayed close to the wall. She made sure her bag was still secure in the carrier, gripped the handles of the cycle tightly and pushed it down the slope.

She could feel gravity pulling down the combined weight of the cycle, her bag and water bottle and her heart skipped a beat. She pressed the brakes almost all the way and started walking. The corrugations on the slope helped break her speed. After a few steps, she gained confidence and getting to the basement safely seemed an achievable feat.

Another cycle whooshed by. It was Aishwarya, one of her classmates. The expression on Aishwarya's face was the kind one wears when on a roller coaster - thrilled cum terrified. Drishti looked at her retreating figure somewhat wistfully. She wished she were that brave.

Drishti successfully navigated the turn on the slope and the ordeal was over. She had finally reached the end of the slope and was now inside the basement parking.  She paused for a moment to catch her breath, her heart was still beating fast. She found a spot to park her cycle, locked it and slowly made her way back up the slope. Walking up the slope wasn't scary at all. On her way, she saw several more cyclists with similar thrilled expressions.

II

It was English class and they were going to learn a new poem: Where the mind is without fear, by Rabindranath Tagore. Drishti was called upon to read the poem aloud to the class.

"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high... ", Drishti read out. It was a very profound poem, written during India’s freedom struggle to inspire people to fight for their freedom. As Drishti read, she couldn't help but think about her fear of going down the slope that morning. She thought about how helpless and terrified it made her feel. Then she thought of the expressions on the faces of students who made it down the slope and suddenly, she was filled with a strong desire to overcome her fear. She resolved to at least try to ride down the slope the next day.

Drishti cycled back home after school with Aishwarya, who lived just a few buildings away from her.

"How did you find driving down the slope today?", Drishti asked Aishwarya.

"It was awesome! I was a bit scared at first, but I had both my brakes pressed halfway down. That took care of my speed. From then on, I didn't even realise when the slope ended. It was very quick!", she replied.

The next morning, Drishti was at the top of the slope at 7:30 a.m. "I can do this", she told herself even though she was petrified. She forced her legs, which seemed to have suddenly acquired the consistency of lead, to pedal forward. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. She was gaining speed. Her tyres made loud clap-clapping noises as they hit the corrugations, sounding similar to the pelting of rain on cemented ground.  She pressed the brakes and slowed down to a speed she was comfortable at. A couple of students passed by her on the slope. This unsettled her a bit, even though she was near the wall edge of the slope and out of their way.

She had almost made it till the end and was approaching the final turn when she heard a faint click and realised with a panic that her bag was about to fall off the carrier.

"Keep going!", Aishwarya said as she rode past, "Let your bag fall, you can pick it up when you go back up the slope."

Drishti figured she was going to have to follow Aishwarya's advice because there was no way she could stop on the slope to pick her bag up while also keeping the cycle from hurtling down the slope. She continued pedalling forward as her bag slipped from the carrier, and a moment later, fell to the slope with a thud. Drishti sighed in resignation, she couldn't help it.

She finally reached the end of the slope. Relief flooded her and she released the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. She locked her cycle and together with Aishwarya, walked up the slope towards her bag.

The bag would have lain there harmlessly till she went to pick it up, if it hadn't been for a student speeding down the slope. He seemed to not have noticed the bag lying in his path and was headed straight for it. Drishti contemplated running for the bag, but she would never make it in time. Besides, her sense of self-preservation wouldn't allow her to put herself in front of the speeding cycle.

Aishwarya shouted at the student to watch out for the bag while Drishti frantically waved her arms in the hope that he would notice. His eyes widened when he finally saw the bag inches away from his front tyre. He managed to swerve at the last minute. His brakes screeched as he slowed to a stop at the basement.

"That was close!", Aishwarya said. Drishti was still speechless. She could barely stand up, her legs were trembling so much. The student with the speeding cycle came up the slope after parking his cycle and gave them the evil eye as he passed by.

"You should watch where you're going!", Aishwarya called after him indignantly. Drishti mumbled a barely audible apology to him which he acknowledged without turning around by lifting his hand up in a semi wave.

Drishti's heartbeat hadn't returned to normal yet, but the danger had been averted. The student hadn't met with any accident and the offending bag was safely slung over her back. She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if the student hadn't swerved. Aishwarya made her snap out of her reverie, "We've had enough excitement for a day. Now let's get to class." Drishti allowed herself to be steered up the slope and towards her class.

It took Drishti a week to muster enough courage to brave the slope again. This time, before descending the slope, she made sure that her bag was firmly secured in the carrier. She felt the now familiar lurch of her stomach as she went down the slope and started gaining speed. She surprised herself by not braking excessively. She was going fast, but she knew she was in control. She was not afraid anymore. Now that fear was out of the way, she was able to experience the joy and thrill of the bumpy ride down to the basement. It gave her an adrenaline rush just like a roller coaster ride would. Her heart was beating fast, but not out of nervousness. The sense of accomplishment she felt this time was even greater than that she had felt when she had first ridden to school on her own. She had finally conquered her fear of riding down slopes. She laughed and released the brakes completely, her breath quickening as she went faster than she had ever dared to previously. Before she knew it, she was in the basement parking. The smile didn’t leave her face throughout the day.

III

Ten years later….

Drishti usually took the bus to work, but today was different. Today, after weeks of self- affirmation, she had decided to take the plunge and drive the car to work.

It had been two years since she obtained her four wheeler driving license. She could drive well enough when someone, preferably someone who knew to drive, was in the car with her. She had never driven alone. She was terrified of it. When she asked herself why that was, she came up with this reason: in case there was a problem, she needed someone for moral support.

She scrunched her nose at her own reason. Moral Support! In this day and age when women needed to assert their independence and competence, she needed to stop making such excuses and just meet her challenges head on. She would improvise as she went along. That's why despite being terrified, she was making herself drive to work alone.

As she made her way to the car parking, she passed by some school kids reciting a poem. Exams must be going on, Drishti thought.

"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high, Where knowledge is free, Where the world has not been broken into fragments, By narrow domestic walls...", the kids were saying.

Drishti was struck by a sense of Deja Vu, an overwhelming feeling of being there, in that time and place, before. She wracked her brain to recollect what was so familiar about this situation. It could be the poem. This poem had been part of her school curriculum too.

School. Yes, that had to be it. She remembered cycling to school. And God, she could never forget the formidable "slope" that led to the school's basement parking. She remembered the day she had conquered the slope as if it were yesterday. Her twelve year old self had been terrified of meeting death or grievous injury at best, going down the slope. But she had gone down it anyway. How glad she had been that she had had the courage to do so.

She had been a lot braver as a child, Drishti mused with a smile. And somehow, that thought was enough to inspire her to continue walking towards the car parking instead of taking a U-turn leading to the bus stop.

She got in the car, turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life. Her heart was beating fast, but she ignored it, instead thinking of the little girl who braved a slope despite her fear of it. She reversed out of the parking and drove away with a widening smile, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline in her system.

                                                              ******

"Courage is not the absence of fear but rather, the judgement that something else is more important." - Meg Cabot, The Princess Diaries #1

What goes around, comes around. Or does it?

Mr and Mrs Hariharan were a delightful old couple who were liked and respected by everyone in their residential building for their kindness and good humour. They were especially good to their servants and everyone else who worked for them, known even to shoulder the responsibility of educating their maid’s children.

It was a cool Monday evening. Mr Hariharan had stepped out of the house to buy some groceries. Normally, Mrs Hariharan would have accompanied him, but today their maid, Rita, had had a family emergency. She had informed them that she would come to their house to clean utensils a little later that evening. Mrs Hariharan urged her to take the day off, but Rita said she would come. So Mrs Hariharan stayed home. When Rita did come to their house, she had a wild expression on her face. On being asked if she was alright, Mrs Hariharan got only monosyllabic replies. So she decided to give Rita her space and not pry.

Mrs Hariharan settled on the sofa in the drawing room to begin her daily praying ritual. She had read just one verse when she noticed an unusual movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up from her book and was shocked to find the usually jovial Rita looking almost murderous, standing in front of her brandishing a long knife. Mrs Hariharan recognised the knife as belonging to her own kitchen. What was Rita playing at?

“Put the knife down, Rita. And tell me what’s wrong.” Mrs Hariharan said, trying to portray a calmness in her voice that she didn’t feel. Her heart was beating fast because she seemed to be trapped in her home with a crazed Rita whom she couldn’t quite place. This Rita was completely at odds with the calm, mild natured Rita she was familiar with.

“Get up and hand over all the money in the house to me.” Rita spat out.

Mrs Hariharan froze. Her mind went on overdrive. She evaluated her situation – she was all alone at home, Mr Hariharan was not expected home for at least another hour, the neighbours won’t be home from work yet. She could call the security, but how would she do that without Rita noticing?

“Come on make it fast, I don’t want to have to hurt you.” Rita said impatiently.

Mrs Hariharan slowly rose from her seat. Rita moved closer and trained her knife near Mrs Hariharan’s throat, its point almost touching her. Though Mrs Hariharan was terrified, the dominant emotion in her was that of sadness. She could still not believe that Rita would betray her like this. After all her kindness, this was how Rita had chosen to repay her.

“Don’t do this Rita. Just put the knife down and go home. I am willing to forget this whole incident if you stop right now,” Mrs Hariharan said in an attempt at making peace. Her efforts were wasted. Rita was not going to budge.

“Save your breath, I’m not going to back out now.” Rita said, her expression cold, unfamiliar.

Mrs Hariharan decided to give in. She knew that she couldn’t fight off Rita, not with her arthritis ridden bones. The only way to get rid of her was to give her what she wanted. She would report Rita to the police as soon as she got out of this nightmare.

Mrs Hariharan felt like she hadn’t known Rita at all, if that was even her name. She proceeded to the drawer in the TV cabinet where she kept her purse. Mr Hariharan didn’t believe in keeping a lot of money in the house. Instead, he withdrew money from the bank as and when required. It was much safer that way. And how right he was, thought Mrs Hariharan as she retrieved the purse with trembling hands. There were two thousand rupees in the purse which Rita snatched away greedily.

“I want more. Is this all you have?” Rita asked.

“Yes,” replied Mrs Hariharan.

“I don’t believe you. I think you really don’t have a sense of self-preservation,” Rita said.

She was going to nick Mrs Hariharan’s neck to draw some blood, to scare her into submission when the doorbell rang loudly, startling them both. Saved by the bell, thought Mrs Hariharan. But her relief was short lived.

“Don’t move. You will not open the door,” Rita ordered.

Mrs Hariharan prayed that it was Mr Hariharan at the door and that he had thought to take his set of keys with him. Sure enough, a minute later, she could hear the key turning in the lock. Mrs Hariharan dared to hope again.

The door opened and Mr Hariharan came in saying, “Look who decided to pay us a surprise visit!”

Mr Hariharan and their two sons Ajay and Vijay froze for a second at the scene in front of them – Mrs Hariharan held at knife point, holding a purse in her hand and Rita holding a knife trying and failing to look menacing. Ajay recovered from his shock first and quickly got into action. He rushed to Rita and deftly took away the knife from her hands. Vijay went to his mother’s side. She had sunk to the floor out of relief and exhaustion. After seating his mother on the sofa and giving her a glass of water to drink, Vijay went to help his brother contain Rita. She had a resigned expression on her face, but she was still struggling to escape. Mr Hariharan was calling the security and any neighbours and friends he could reach over the intercom. Within a few minutes, three black uniformed security guards came to take Rita away. She was sobbing now. The guards had no sympathy for her though. She gave one last pitiable look at Mrs Hariharan and allowed herself to be led away. Mrs Hariharan couldn’t stand to look at Rita so she averted her eyes.

The ordeal was over but Mrs Hariharan was badly shaken. Mr Hariharan put an arm around her and they sat in silence, grateful that nothing worse had happened. Neighbours and friends started trickling in after the security spread the word. Everyone was shocked. One of the neighbours offered to drive Mr and Mrs Hariharan to the police station to file a complaint. His wife brought them steaming Dal Rice because she figured Mrs Hariharan wouldn’t be in a state to cook after an ordeal like this. Ajay and Vijay decided to spend the night and the next few days at their parents’ house so they could keep an eye out for them.

*********

That night sleep was hard to come by for both Mr and Mrs Hariharan, even though they knew that their sons were in the next room. They had lodged a police complaint. In addition, a society meeting was held where the security measures of the building had been updated. All maids working in the various houses of the building were now required to have a photo ID which would be issued by the building management after due background checks.

The moon was full that night, casting its white light into Mrs Hariharan’s bedroom. She was grateful for the light. It made her feel safe for some reason.

“Why did this happen to me? I thought good begets good. What goes around, comes around and all that. The entire concept of Karma, is it all just talk?” Mrs Hariharan asked her husband morosely as she was getting ready for bed. The events of the day had made her doubt herself. Ever since she was a child, she had been taught to be good and kind to others. But after today, she was beginning to wonder if being good was overrated, that maybe what she had been taught was no longer applicable in today’s dog eat dog world.

Mr Hariharan smiled as he straightened his glasses. “Tell me, are you being kind, generous and good to people out of expectation of something in return from them?”

“Of course not!” Mrs Hariharan said indignantly. “But I certainly didn’t expect Rita to behave this way.” Mrs Hariharan was quite hurt by what she saw as an act of betrayal by Rita.

“As to your question on whether good begets good, here’s what I think,” Mr Hariharan said from his armchair next to the window. “What goes around, does come around, but not necessarily from the same source!”

“What do you mean?” asked Mrs Hariharan, confused.

“Agreed, what Rita did today was totally uncalled for," Mr Hariharan said. "But think of some of the good things that also happened today:”

1) It was nothing short of miraculous that our sons and I came home when we did, or who knows what might have happened.”

2) Our neighbours all rushed to our side when we called for help. Diya from next door made us dinner. Did we ask her to? No. Yet she did and how useful it was to us, when you were too disturbed to cook. Similarly, her husband took the trouble of driving us till the police station and back.”

Why did these things happen? Maybe it was your good Karma that protected you, maybe it was Fate. We don’t know.”

“I hadn’t thought of it quite that way” said Mrs Hariharan deep in thought. A verse of the Bhagwad Gita came to her mind, ‘Karmanye Vadhikaraste, Ma phaleshou kada chana, Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani’. This verse meant that one should concentrate on one’s actions and not worry about the results of those actions. In other words, one’s actions shouldn’t be motivated solely by the fruits of those actions. We will definitely avail the fruits of our actions, whether good or bad, but the despatching of fruits is not our department. That responsibility is solely the Universe’s.

In light of this verse, her husband’s words started making sense and Mrs Hariharan finally understood. She wouldn’t forsake the goodness of her heart just because of this one incident. She helped people because it made her happy that she could be of some use to them, not because she wanted something in return. She knew that the Universe will return the favour as it saw fit, in its own good time.

This was quite an epiphany for Mrs Hariharan - that Karma does exist, but it works in mysterious ways. The boons or banes of Karma strike at the unlikeliest of times and we are almost always taken unawares by it. Smiling to herself, Mrs Hariharan fell asleep watching the flickering of Mr Hariharan’s reading lamp.

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Brand 'You'

The world we live in is a cruel, unforgiving one. A world spoilt for choice. A world where we are being constantly evaluated and are expected to prove our worth: by the society, our friends, colleagues, bosses, even our own family. Where an impression can make or break our career. Where people would like to know, as quickly as possible, why we deserve their precious time and attention when there are so many other equally if not more capable people out there. What differentiates us from others?

Thinking about the answer to this question reminds me of a conversation I had a few years ago with a relative of mine who had come to visit. At the time I had just completed my formal education and was nervous about the prospect of entering the big, bad world having lived in a protected environment for so long. I was greedy for any advice that she could give me. The wise lady merely told me this: “Any task that you take up should be done to the best of your ability. Let there be no compromises, because it is after all ‘You’ who are doing it. Whether it is a menial task like dusting a shelf or something more intellectual like writing a program or giving a presentation, pour your heart and soul into it. The difference will definitely show. It will also give you a high like never before, the high of a job well done. This is the key to happiness and success.” I was blown away by her simple yet profound words.  I will always remember them.

If we come to think of it, the lady was talking about what we have come to know today as branding. So what exactly is branding? It is a marketing practice of creating a name, symbol or design that identifies and differentiates a product from other products. (http://www.entrepreneur.com/encyclopedia/branding) This term can be extended to ourselves too. We’re all unique. We matter. We have been put here for a purpose and we can make a difference. But the world doesn’t know this. In order to show the world what more we can bring to the table, we need to follow the wise lady’s advice. We need to start building and nurturing the brand that is us, so that we are remembered, even long after we’re gone.

The tricky question is, how one can go about doing this. Here are a few thoughts:

1. There is nothing you do that isn’t sending a message, one way or another. – Steve McKee (http://growthpress.net/15-branding-quotes-will-inspire-take-brand-next-level/) Our every move is being scrutinised by someone or the other. So we might as well give them something good to look at by always putting our best foot forward! It may be exhausting initially, but it will always be worth it. Our work will soon begin to be identified by the uniqueness that only we can add to it.
2. The way it has always be done, is not the way it must always be done. – Steve McKee (http://growthpress.net/15-branding-quotes-will-inspire-take-brand-next-level/) ‘Thinking out of the box!’, ’Innovation!’, ‘Imagination!’, ‘Creativity!’- We’ve all heard these words more times than we can count. They stem from human tendency to quickly tire of what is routine and monotonous. That’s why we’re always looking for newer, faster and more efficient ways of doing things. People who are able to step out of their comfort zone and look beyond the tried and tested ways to tread the less travelled path make it big in this world.
3. An eye for an eye would make the whole world blind. - Mahatma Gandhi. Treading the path of goodness and righteousness may be scoffed upon in today’s dog eat dog world. But personal vendettas and grudges never did anyone any good. A kind deed never goes waste. What goes around does come around, though not necessarily from the same place. This is something to think about.
4. No one likes a whiner. Anyone can complain about what’s wrong in the world, but not everyone can come up with ways to right what is wrong. So instead of whining, focusing one’s energy on devising and implementing solutions to various world problems can go a long way in setting one apart from others.
5. Happiness is infectious. It is true that life is not a bed of roses and that there is unfairness galore in this world. People who are happy and enthusiastic despite the gloom that surrounds them are sought after. Smiling, laughing people are often considered more agreeable and are welcome anywhere they go, because they lift the spirits of those around them.  

Finally, creating a brand for ourselves doesn’t mean losing our identity to what the world thinks we should be. In fact, it is exactly the opposite. It is about embracing our uniqueness and using it to do some good from which the world can benefit. Thus the world needs us to step forward, into the limelight. We’re all works of art, which up till now never got to see the light, as Selena Gomez sings in her song, Who Says. So pull up the blinds, open up the windows and let the world see and experience: Brand You!

On Forgiveness

On picking up any book on self development and happiness, we'll find that one of the primary ways to stay happy is to forgive: forgive those who have wronged us and most importantly, forgive ourselves.

So what exactly is forgiveness? It might not come as a surprise to know that Google actually has a definition for it: "Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, lets go of negative emotions such as vengefulness, with an increased ability to wish the offender well." In simpler words, forgiveness is when we let go of feelings of revenge and resentment in response to an offense against us.

Forgiveness has many merits. Almost every religion professes it. The important question that comes to mind is, what can be forgiven and what cannot be? Can the parents of the girl ever forgive the man who raped their daughter, can the world forgive terrorists who killed so many people in various instances of terrorism? On a more personal level, can we forgive our parents, friends, colleagues for the various ways in which they wound us?

In order to answer this question, it is important to know what forgiveness is not. Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing the seriousness of the offence committed against us, or releasing the offender from legal accountability. It can improve damaged relationships, but doesn't mandate reconciliation. It does not obligate us to have positive feelings towards those whom we forgive. (See reference)

However, to forgive is easier said than done. Our pride plays a big role in this. We equate forgiveness with giving up our stance, our point of view, which we so strongly believe in. We ask ourselves why we should be the ones extending the olive branch every time, why other people can't realise 'their' mistake and apologise, atone?

No matter how justified we may be that the other person is wrong, we must swallow the bitter pill and forgive. Here's the best reason to do so: "for our own peace of mind!" We keep walking around with the heavy burden of hurt pride and feelings, anger and resentment. These negative feelings eat us up from inside and gradually seep into everything we do unless we take measures to stop them. When we forgive, the burden of negativity gets lifted off our shoulders and we feel lighter. Forgiveness empowers us to recognise the pain we have suffered without letting the pain define us, thus enabling us to heal and move on. (See reference)

"The opposite of love is not hate, but apathy, where you simply don't give a damn!" This is a very profound line I read in The Secret of the Nagas by Amish Tripathi. We should aim for apathy when we forgive: forgive with all our heart and then never look back on the incident again. It's over and done with. We can't change it now. We should never hold grudges, because having grudges means we are still affected and that we haven't forgiven ourselves.

Forgiveness is not for the faint hearted, as Mahatma Gandhi has rightly said. It is an attribute of the strong. Thus, we should never feel that by forgiving someone, we are being weak, that we are sacrificing our pride and self respect. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Forgiveness is not easy, but we can practice until it becomes second nature. We will then know true happiness and peace of mind.

Reference: http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/topic/forgiveness/definition

Picture Courtesy:
1) http://www.lifehack.org/articles/communication/forgive-others-not-because-they-deserve-forgiveness-but-because-you-2.html

2) http://www.allthingspossible.biz/what-is-it-costing-you-to-hold-onto-your-grudges-2/

3) http://www.motivationmagazine.com/articles/the-power-of-forgiveness