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Insights from a Yoghurt Nazi

Prolog

As Microsoft quickly found out to its chagrin, associating with Seinfeld in this day and age, may not be that fashionable. But hey, i am no Microsoft and I love Seinfeld. The inspiration for the post’s title comes from a super Seinfeld episode called the Soup Nazi.  In an earlier post, we covered how to build passion.  While passion goes a long way, we need some mechanism to build expertise in a certain area.

The Yoghurt Nazi

As I thought about this, I was struck by Priya Raju’s deeply formed opinion about Yoghurt (Curd). She looks at the texture, color, the level of sourness etc and only if it met her standards, she would consume it. I jocularly refer to her as the Yoghurt Nazi after the Soup Nazi in Seinfeld who has a zillion rules.  As for me, i have no taste in Yoghurt and would be okay with anything as long as it is yoghurt. However, i am very opinionated about which vegetable should be added to what kind of dish. I am the Food Nazi. My grandfather was a gourmet and i would like to think i have inherited some of his genes. Whereas Priya Raju didn’t have such opinions about food except that it taste good. Interestingly, she would try a lot of different cuisines effortlessly and spot trends, i found myself, slightly more reluctant to try newer cuisines.

Sound of Music

Then i started to look at tastes in music and i found another interesting thing. While i had a strong opinion about what is good music, i generally tended to experiment and discover newer genres of music, I found Priya Raju had a greater ability to say which is great music and she didn’t experiment as much as I do with music.  I also observed similar patterns in taste for movies.

The Taste Spectrum

Then I had several discussions with Priya Raju and we realized that to have a good taste in something you need to have a certain degree of expertise and a certain degree of enthusiasm for it.  We then proceeded to categorize people and plotted the diagram above that i call the Taste Spectrum.  On the X axis expertise going from -5 to +5 and Y axis is enthusiasm going from -5 to +5.

1. Nazis – these are people who have high expertise and slightly less enthusiasm than the trendspotters (see below). Expert critics, connoisseurs, gourmets would belong here.
2. Trendspotters – these have slightly less expertise compared to Nazis but have a higher degree of enthusiasm compared to them so they try more new stuff and may be the first ones to spot new trends.
3. Normal – these have medium level of expertise and medium level of enthusiasm.  If you take music as an example, many people would be in this category – everyone likes music for the most part.
4. Indifferent – these have zero expertise and zero enthusiasm. They simply don’t care about the stuff.
5. Rigid – these have some medium level of expertise but their enthusiasm is medium negative.  They will hold onto what they have tried and liked and won’t try new things that easily.
6. Bad Taste – these have a great level of enthusiasm but medium negative expertise. They may enthusiastically choose the wrong things.
7. Finicky – these have both medium negative expertise and medium negative enthusiasm. They don’t have expertise to discern and won’t try new things as well.
8. Haters – they have poor expertise and poor enthusiasm. they simply hate the stuff.

The Taste Zones

Once we plotted the spectrum, we could see 3 broad zones emerging

1. the love zone – Normal, Trendspotters and Nazi. They really like the stuff and this group as a collective has the greatest level of enthusiasm and expertise – these are the talented boys/gals.
2. the hate zone – finicky, haters. They have crossed over to the other side. the talent-free club.
3. The middle zone – indifferent, rigid, bad taste. They have potential to move to either side depending on how they develop their open-mindedness or their abilities.

Taste Translates

Overall, what we find is that, if we can develop our taste in one area, we can quite easily translate that into areas where our professional success may depend upon.  All of us belong in the love zone in atleast one thing – music, movies, yoghurt , food, travel. If we can develop that area and become a Nazi in that, we can then transfer that ability to other areas that matter in our professional lives.

Epilog

What do you all think? What are you a Nazi in?

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Pray, where is the cream of India?

After the Beijing Olympics, the media has gone to town with small-town India. Suddenly, we seem to have discovered talent there! The population and infrastructure pressure on major metros has made industry discover tier-2 and tier-3 cities. This is still the story of urban India being played out. What Olympics or what industry would it take to ‘discover’ the villages? Gandhi said India lives in its villages. Nehru spoke of the Discovery of India. We are yet to discover it and this post is an attempt to be part of that journey.

Several years ago I was talking to the Vice-Principal of a ‘Public’ school located in north India. He announced with aplomb his deliverable as a teacher and educational administrator. He said, “You know we prepare the cream of India at my school!” I was perturbed that a senior teacher could display such snobbishness and stupidity! Snobbishness because he was clearly bragging about the wealthy character of the students at his school. Stupid because he had no clue about the history and character of the wider educational experience in India. So much for being a Vice-Principal.

There seems to be a widely-prevalent fallacy prevailing in middle-class circles that the ‘cream of India’ is being educated at ‘international’ and ‘public’ schools, as these terms are understood in our country. One would like to think that irrespective of their class character and geographical location, schools of all hues across the country are preparing the future generation of leaders and citizens of our nation. The parents mean well for their children but the assumptions on which their decisions are made are well off the mark. The first assumption is that the brand names of these schools would enable their children to climb up the career ladder in the future. A big brand with low marks does not get their wards anywhere; The second assumption is that because these are affluent schools, the quality of education offered is superior and their children would study better.

Year after Year when the 10th and 12th standard results are announced, less known and almost unknown schools seem to be the ones with the toppers. On the contrary, the environments of the so-called public/international schools promote degenerate habits and values that are bad for the children themselves. If the assumptions of parents are misplaced, what could be the driving forces that propel the parents to search for and uphold these institutions even if it’s at great cost to themselves and loss of achievement for their wards. The motivation is a kind of conspicous consumption in the educational market and a myopic vision of what constitutes success for the younger generation. What schools did some of the great achievers in India go to – let’s look at every field be it science or business or governance. The recent examples of APJ Abdul Kalam, Manmohan Singh(his early schooling) and the late Dhirubhai Ambani seem to belie the assumption that only public or international schools produce successful or eminent persons/leaders. Numerous would be the examples like these who have studied in ordinary institutions and by sheer grit and determination made their way to the top. Our parents, elders and so many of our nation-builders have been to very unassuming, ordinary and in fact rural institutions.

India is already a role-model to the world through its democracy, pluralism and its social welfare principles for the less fortunate. In our rhetoric to becoming a ‘superpower’ (whatever that is) we seem to want to ape the behaviour and consumption patterns of societies whose history is different from that of ours. The scandals that have hit the headlines in the recent past whether it is to do with boys circulating MMS images of their girlfriends or underage alcohol-induced hit-and-run cases all involve children belonging to the ‘creamy’ schools. There seems to be evidence that we might be producing in the years to come generation of spoilt brats who are more into consumerism at an early age clueless of either their parents labour in affording their education. I watch with consternation the behaviour of the Gen-Y (at least in the metros) and their day-to-day concerns and priorities. What makes for a successful school or an achieving student? It is not the school buildings nor the glitter of the uniforms nor the number of cars parked outside it. It is the care and concern shown by teachers; it is the well-rounded scheme of education with a good component of extra-curricular activities; it is the interest and time given by the parents to complement the efforts of the school in ensuring the achievement of their children. It is the tenacity and fortitude of the student to persist in their studies regardless of the meagre or absent resources. It is the availability of scholarships that would enable less well-off families to afford education.

Perhaps the urban mall-dependent Gen-Y is not to blame given the social environment all around with all the mdeia / resources at their disposal, the gadgets available and the negligence of their parents. It was heartening to see the positive response from several sections of Indian society to the movie ‘Taare Zameen Par’ in terms of the requisite change required in parents/teachers attitudes to children.

The key word here is ‘teachers’ – till date I recall with great reverence all those who taught me for the values and the perspectives they instilled in us. We had a great scholar President in Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan (Teachers Day on September 5 recently passed us by – celebrated in Radhakrishnan’s honour) but today’s pop/film star celebrities are the ones who inspire Gen-Y. Alas it is ‘Pokkiri’ in, Gandhi out! All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy indeed. So, what forms of recreation and extra-curricular development can we hope for our children? Imagination plays a great role in what the child can dream for him/herself, the family, community and nation. But in what direction this passion/imagination/talent? This imagination is fired not by inane films but by how the child’s mind is cultivated and moulded into being a responsible and empathetic global citizen. The role therefore that a teacher plays in cultivating a child’s mind cannot be understated.

One can’t stop individuals or groups from thinking that they constitute the cream. They are free to think that way. However, it would be a sad future if one were to think that the cream would emerge out of exclusive gated communities like public or international schools. In my view, every citizen who puts her/his shoulder to the wheel and contributes her/his might to the building of a strong nation represents the cream. Such citizens are the real elite or leaders. Those who think for themselves and transcend various prejudices are the cream irrespective of the social strata that they come from. They don’t have to have positions or designations to do their job well whether at work or at home as parents. The only difference with this cream of India is it performs its calling silently without making a noise about its role and contribution. They are the unsung heroes and heroines. If only we could provide equality of opportunity to our citizens with its attendant resources, it might well be that the rhetoric of India becoming a country to reckon with may no longer remain just rhetoric. It could well become a reality!

The cream therefore ladies and gentlemen is everywhere. Its just that the ‘Discovery of India’ by our intellegentsia is as yet very incomplete. I rest my case.

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The Accidental Historian

I don’t renege on promises. Unless the bribe is considerable. And it involves Italian food & a glass of Port. Then, I don’t give a hoot about promises. Every ideal is negotiable & now you know the economics of my avouchments.

This here is a promise I’m keeping though. Last week, I said I’ll write a follow-up post on my unusual hobbies. To my utter consternation, I couldn’t zero in on a particular hobby. Should I write about the time I collected chocolate wrappers? I made it into a sort of neighborhood drive. Even the adults were hooked. Remember the Broken Glass collection? And how we broke perfectly good bangles to add to the collection? Because only shards were legit. How about the time when Raman’s mother chased us with a stick, shrieking “Hooligans!” when she spied us with her glass vase? Or, what was left of it.

Never mind. I’ve had many resplendent habits. But, I decided to write about a hobby that hounds me to this day. I collect old books. The older, the better. And not just any old book. I collect books that offer me more than their presumed content. On my lap is “The Ghost of Blackwood Hall”, a Nancy Drew mystery. On its fly-leaf are the words “To Caroline from Dad – August 9, ’52”. To Caroline, from Dad. Its a poignant & touching phrase. I’m not a fan of Nancy Drew, but I simply couldn’t leave the book forlorn on the Thrift Store shelf.  I’m faintly troubled by the voyeuristic nature of my hobby. But all it takes is another old book to stifle the clamor of my conscience.

I’ve always been addicted to books. I was a sickly child. Typhoid, Measles, Bronchitis – You name it, I got it. I was bed-ridden a lot & I couldn’t play with other kids. Though I have to admit I didn’t miss it at all – I’m bone-lazy, nerdy & aloof. During my convalescence, my companions were books, our German Shepherd Brownie & our Grandpa’s adorable, magnificent no-name ginger cat. I would read my favorite passages to Brownie & Ginger, or show them pictures that caught my fancy. Ginger looked appropriately sagacious & uttered scholarly meows, but I regret to say that I couldn’t interest the dog in books at all. He just stupidly slobbered over the pages & tried to shred them.

I don’t know about other languages, but Tamil has a lot of Weekly Magazines. These magazines have an age-old habit of publishing novels – 1 chapter every week. Every chapter was illustrated by a famous artist – and it depicted a major event in that chapter. “Illustrated Weekly” used to do this too. Since Indians are by nature thrifty, they would cut the pages carefully & bind all the chapters into a book. Et Voila, they had a card-board bound, calico backed novel – a piece of gift-wrapping paper served as the “Cover Art”. I’m particularly attracted to this kind of books. Every book has an elusive fragrance, a character. You can capture the evanescence only if you read it with the original illustrations.

Plus, these books are bona-fide historical records. For along with the story could be that week’s Editorial, Tidbits, World News or Sports Trivia. They give the reader an authentic whiff of that period – Primarily because people left these tracks inadvertently in the magazines, without any intent of creating epochal relics. One can flimflam official records because of the desire to deify oneself. The bound books – let me call them that, for lack of a better name – are a fund of period information. News items on the State of the Union – always leave me wondering whether I should chuckle or grimace. Here is an example from “Kalki”, Circa 1988.

A startling discovery was made in the Indian state of Meghalaya. During a routine Status Review of the Education Department, it was discovered that most of their primary school teachers were illiterate. They affixed their thumb impressions to receive their pay checks, since none of them had mastered the art of signing their names.

Often, magazines dredge up stories from the annals of history. Here is a sample from “Ananda Vikatan”, Circa 1966.

When Edward VII of England visited France, a ball was given in his honor. After dining magnificently, the men started a heated debate – “Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?” Each one had an opinion, naturally. “I’m sure she’ll be Egyptian” said one. “No, Indian” said another. “You fools. Greek women are the prettiest” said a third. His Royal Highness put an end to the debate thus – “Its my wife!” he declared. Nobody had the nerve to challenge him.

For the Sports Trivia buff in all of us, here’s a sampler from Kalki, Circa 1995.

A funny thing happened in a Chess Tournament in 1927. Aron Nimzovich was playing Milan Widmar in New York. Mid-game, Widmar tried to light a cigarette. Nimzovich threw a hissy fit & the organizers begged Widmar not to smoke. Widmar complied immediately. After a few minutes of maintaining peace, Nimzovich kicked up a storm again. The organizers were non-plussed – “My dear Sir, Mr Widmar isn’t smoking!”. “I know” retorted Nimzovich earnestly. “But, he looks like he wants to smoke!”.

History to me is beyond what the kings did. It doesn’t stop & end with the castles, the aristocrats & their numerous battles. Prominent people bore me – We have a superfluous glut of information about them as it is. I want to know about the commoners. I’m simply devoured by curiosity about their habits. And I want to feel their culture in my bones. What were their cherished beliefs? What were their quirks? What were their pre-occupations & passions? I think if I know what they ate, the clothes they wore, the jokes that made them laugh & the stories that enthralled them – I’ll “get” the sub-text. That is, their culture.

Old advertisements really give me a kick. I particularly like the Ads from the 1940s & 1950s. Margarine (Vanaspathi) was touted as a “Healthy Alternative to Oil”. People were urged to use “Sunlight Soap” – unless you used soap, your clothes might get torn. And my personal favorite – An Ad for the very Indian “Panama” cigarettes. From “Ananda Vikatan”, Circa 1966. The company praises stores that stock their cigarettes for their patriotism 🙂

I’m intrigued by what people of a by-gone era coveted. What was the i-phone of that period? And more interestingly – How much did it cost? Here’s an Ad from “Kalki”, Circa 1967. For Rs 323, you could buy a 5-Valve, 3 Band Radio. If you wanted 6 Valves, it would set you back by Rs 415. For a pirate’s ransom of Rs 668, you could get 6 Valves, 5 Bands & a Ferrite (whatever it means) aerial. And wonder of wonders – 2 speakers.

“So, how did you get interested in old books?” my husband asked. “Did some First Edition catch your fancy?”. I threw up in disgust. I’m not a “First Edition” snob. I collect books for the pleasure of reading them. The brag value of owning a book is for the snooty at heart – it is lost on me. “Then, what started this – your – love affair with old books?” he persisted.

My uncle once loaned me an old, dog-eared copy of World Proverbs. The book had ink stains, it looked naked without its covers & a colony of bookworms was feasting on the pages. But, it had this profound Arabic apothegm that I can’t get out of my skull:

He who knows not, but knows not that he knows not – He is a fool; shun him.
He who knows not and knows that he knows not – He is simple; teach him.
He who knows, but knows not that he knows – He is asleep; wake him.
He who knows and knows that he knows – He is wise; follow him.

He looked unconvinced. “You know, that incident sounds too good to be true”. “Wee-llll, now – I was trying to satisfy you” I said. “We have a dire need for everything to have a discrete beginning. Things have to start somewhere & end unambiguously in an apocalyptic BANG!”. “Maybe you just love nostalgia” he suggested. I shrugged. “Or maybe I don’t have a damn clue. You have to admit that quoting the proverb was a neat touch”.

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Can a man be a friend of feminism?

We are glad to publish this post by our friend Dr Abdul Fakhri. Please welcome him warmly by commenting on his maiden post. Also, do check out Dr Fakhri’s book when you get a chance.  – Priya Raju.

These are a few random thoughts about Gender, Feminism and Sexuality. The old adage that while more things change they remain the same holds true in this case. Unless men and women make a radical departure from our ancient deep-rooted assumptions and prejudices nothing will change. Change that makes the world a better place to live in – I can’t see why anyone would have second thoughts about that.

My thinking about this subject was sparked off by a group of lady colleagues fervently defending the right of women to go to work in an office. I was at first a bit surprised and then very sad. Surprised because I thought we had reached a point of consensus ages ago in civil/political society that affirmed the right of women to work. And there are still people debating that. Come on guys! We are not in the paleolithic age!

Sad because I thought we take pride in Kalpana Chawla/Sunita Williams as icons of women’s/nation’s emancipation and seek to inspire our daughters along those lines but are still bogged down by very fundamental assumptions about women’s ‘location’ in society.

Irrespective of caste, language, religion and even geography, gender is the most common dimension where one can see similarities across societies. The ‘sisterhood’ faces challenges universally. One would be amazed to note how much domestic violence is part of family life across the world or for that matter crime against women. No culture or social group can claim a holier-than-thou attitude towards gender issues. Having said that, it must also be made clear that the level of debate and the extent to which these issues are addressed varies from society to society and country to country. The Euro-American societies have over the years  seen a lot of ferment on these issues and they are able to cope with these issues better. They have not sought to push things under the carpet. Does that mean that our cultures have not had a progressive presence? There is so much out there to name a few:  Pandita Ramabai worked for the emancipation of women. Our very own Periyar was a radical feminist of his time. Bharati spoke of “Pudumai Penn.” And many more to name just a few.

Which brings me to the purpose of this post. The debate, policy and research on these issues has reached light years ahead of what our ‘brotherhood'(sic) is busy with – the rather paltry right of women to go to work.  The debate is about redefining masculinity. About expressive and assertive female sexuality. About alternate sexuality or transgender issues. About redefining the legal process to be more friendly to women and the transgendered. About reshaping policy to meet the changing needs of our time.

The most basic of all identities is ones gender identity. But there is an acute biological determinism about how  people see these things. At a conceptual level, recent thinking on these subjects shows that there is increasingly a clear delineation about gender identity at at least three levels. At the first level is biology or biological fact about a person being born a male or a female. At the second level is the social sex whether the person sees himself/herself as a man/woman. Lastly and at the final level is the sexual orientation of the person whether s/he prefers someone of the same or opposite sex. At what level of permutations and combinations a person’s thoughts and emotions may be differs from individual to individual. Rigid straitjacketing of the roles of individuals whether men/women has never worked through history and will never work. Life is about fluidity and identities including gender identities are always in a flux.

Clearly gender is not equal to biological fact. Gender is culturally and socially produced. That there are men who prefer to live their lives as women is testimony to the non-biological reality of gender/sexual emotions. While it is sad that such men are sneered at by mainstream society, what is not noticed is that they have made a tough choice to abstain from patriarchal structures by abdicating the power that a man has in society. That is the key word POWER. Lord Acton had said “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Men seek that absolute power over women in society by setting the rules of the game. Gender is not so much about just the right of women to work but the power relations between men and women. Despite the relationship between husbands and wives being the most intimate space of their lives it is still amazing how power plays a vital role in marriages.

It is heartening to notice the increasing awareness of gender and transgender issues in the media. While some of this can become reduced to voyeurism and caricatures, still there is light at the end of the tunnel. Whether it is TV chat shows or films there is an increasing realization that we have to grow up on these issues. The onus in this sphere is clearly on the men as the power-bearers. Women already have too much on their plate to go about conscientizing men as to how they ought to conduct themselves. A redefined masculinity is not just about help in changing nappies of the child or doing household chores but about a fundamentally changed and different perspective about how we look at the world. Abhorring power and control in gender issues could also lead to a  breakthrough in caste, religious, ethnic, racial  and cultural spheres. It is all intertwined. We have to transcend gender issues to achieve a more peaceful and equitable existence. To those who believe in a God, it is the complimentarity of ‘Gods creation’ – the sexes that needs to be understood at the very outset.

The need of the hour is for more men to empathize with feminism. Can a man be a feminist?  Perhaps yes or Perhaps not. Not because there is another kind of biological determinism that insists that only women understand their exploitation. Yes because through ages there has always been the benevolent(sic) male who has stood up for the right of women. Alright, if a man cannot be a feminist, at least he can be a ‘friend of feminism.’! What better or higher virtue can women attribute to men than being called true FRIENDS!

Our age is about transcending gender and transgender! To those who are still debating whether women can go to work,  I say ” Yawn! Gentlemen(sic), Good Morning, Wake up and smell the coffee!”

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My Days as a Collector

For those of you whose pulse quickened at the word “Collector”, imagined lurid tales of my days in the Indian Administrative Service & were licking their chops for some dirty gossip – This post is about the junk I collect. Fooled Ya! I’m so unsorry.

Whenever we visit other people, I’m amazed by the sheer lack of geegaw in their homes. What gives? We have a copious supply of baubles, decorative & otherwise. Objet d’Art are strewn in every room, including the bathrooms. There aren’t enough walls to hang our paintings – half of them are stacked in a cup-board. And I’m still coveting a few Art Deco prints of Tamara de Lempicka. We had to convert a bedroom into a library for our books, CDs, DVDs & vintage Cassettes. Since we buy at least 1 book every week, our bookshelves are packed like a can of sardines.

I’m a compulsive collector. Our home is my museum. Sometimes I wonder what Freud would make of me. According to him, avid collectors are compulsive neurotics who are very anal retentive. As if we need a dead guy to proclaim that I’m neurotic and anal. Its too obvious! So let’s ignore the tedious Sigmund.

Life would be a tiresome bitch were it not for our hobbies. For George W, its war mongering. Miley Cyrus poses for racy pictures (some of them with her obliging dad). Michael Jackson holds sleep-overs with kids (pardon my pun). And Kim Kardashian makes home videos (har har). Like I said, we all need our pastimes.

When we were kids, my brother joined the local Numismatics club. And I tailed along. How excited we were when we got our 1st (& lamentably last) US $1 bill! We entrusted it to our mother for safe-keeping – and she reverently placed it next to her diamond ear-rings. In those days, inertia & a poor economy made Indians sedentary – very few people ventured out of our shores. So after enthusiastically collecting a few slotted pennies, we had to sit around & twiddle our toes. Numismatics, Shumismatics. A hobby is interesting only when there’s some Indiana Jones kind of action going. So I dropped out after the 1st month & left my brother in a lurch.

Next up was Philately. Stamp collecting sounded cool. Our father bought us a Stamp Album from the erst-while Moor Market in Chennai. For a few weeks, no letter or package was safe from our ransacking & pillaging. We accosted – almost attacked – the beleaguered postman every day, in our quest for stamps.

After having our fill of Indian stamps, we grew sullen & withdrawn. “What’s the matter with them? Cat got their tongues?” wondered our uncle. “Which would be a blessing, considering their non-stop prattle” our dear dad jibed. “Don’t you have any friends living abroad? Do we lead such wretched lives that no one from America, Africa or Europe care to communicate with us?” we asked plaintively. Not that we craved human contact with other cultures, we just wanted their stamps. “I do have a pen-pal in Germany” mused our dad. “And I have friends who have family in other countries” said our aunt. “Then what are you waiting for?” we goaded them thanklessly.

We were crest-fallen when their toils yielded puny results. “I know a company that sells foreign stamps” our wise mother said. Somehow, buying stamps to fuel a hobby didn’t sound cricket to me. One needs to sweat it out. But, my lazy brother eagerly acquiesced. We learned a lot from the stamps our mother bought – and our lingo changed overnight. We referred to countries by their postal names. Ceskoslovensko, Magyar Posta, Deutsche Bundespost, Helvetia, Polska, Tanganyika & Sverige figured prominently in our conversations.

After the initial excitement, stamp collection became a drag. Its the hunting, not the possessing, that’s exciting. Possessing makes you smug, not that we minded the bragging rights that came with it. Hunting makes the fruit that much sweeter – and I longed for it. Soon, I renounced Philately as a high-brow hobby, labeled my brother an “Elitist” & chased unusual hobbies of my own making.

I read recently that compulsive hoarders (AKA pack-rats) have a lesion in their right frontal lobe. Said lesion removes all restraint & makes people less discerning in determining the worth of an item. I must have a golf-ball sized hole. For though I’m not a pack-rat & I choose collectibles ostensibly for their value, I happily bounce from 1 hobby to another.

More on that on my next post.