SAST Wingees

Why do we ask less as we age?

I had the good fortune of listening to Andrew Sobel recently about ‘Clients for Life’ and one of the good traits to have was to be ‘curious’ and ‘ask a lot of questions’. He also joked about how a small kid will have around 100+ questions a day and by the time we are 50, the number of questions is down to 1 or 2 and it is usually – ‘Whats for dinner?’ or something routine. Well, we are all aware of that very well – so I didnt really think about it then. Couple of days back, my daughter (4 yrs) asked me ‘How does the right hand automatically know that it is itching in my left hand and it does the job by itself?’ I was literally thrown off my chair. So, I realized that not only our quantity, but the quality of questions also goes down as we age. Its been ages since I was asked such a great question by someone around my age. Any clues on why/how this happens? More importantly, how can we conciously reverse the same? Can we teach a person to be more curious? I’ll try to do some research myself, but in blogosphere spirit, thought I’ll post it here first. PS: Of Course, I am a super-dad now having answered that tough question.

Fine tastings from the world of movies March-April 2007

1. Rang De Basanti – the much talked about movie with a nationalistic bent. Studded with stars like Aamir Khan, Siddharth, Kunal Kapoor, Soha Ali Khan and Madhavan. Overall it is a good movie. But it didn’t make the great movie cut for a couple of reasons. The first 30-45 minutes should have been edited out. Aamir Khan struggles hard and overacts quite a bit to act as an youngster. In the later parts of the movie he does well in characteristic fashion. The Indian police going so much overboard under such untesting conditions is a bit over the top. The movie does score very high on the creativity front.

2. Stage Fright – Hitchcock’s movie, starring Jane Wyman, Richard Todd & Marlene Dietrich. Marlene Dietrich has done a great job. Unlike later Hitchcock movies which have acquired cult status, in this movie, the suspense is maintained till the end. Typical Hitchcock strategy is to make the audience know the suspense but not the actors. Overall, it is a okay movie but not upto the standard one expects from the master.

3. The Gift – Sam Raimi shows why he is an acclaimed director. Great acting by Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi. Excellent suspense and all round technical excellence.

4. The Devil Wears Prada – Meryl Streep at her best. She absolutely personifies the devilish, extremely talented boss. Anne Hathaway has done a good job as well. This is a must see movie.

5.   Sorry, Wrong Number – Classic, Must-see. Fantastic suspense, edge of the seat thriller. Barbara Stanwyck has done a sensational job.

6. The First Great Train Robbery – A nice time pass burglary thriller starring Sean Connery. Directed by Michael Crichton to boot.

7. The Illusionist – This is another must see movie. It is a period thriller, with Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti trying to best each other in acting. Rufus Sewell as Prince Leopold excels as well. The suspense is excellent as well. Music by Philip Glass is hauntingly good.

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Hunger

Egged on by peers and one’s own curiosity or hunger as Priya Raju calls it, most men (and some women) undergo this experience in their early twenties or late teens as the case may be. Read on for Priya Raju’s latest story.

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“Are you tense” – asked Mani. He was only 2 years older than others, but he already behaved like a man of 30. Self assured, calm.

“Mani: Have you been to such places before?” – Vipin asked. Damn voice – kept shaking so much, just nerves, that’s all. God, if only there was some wind. it was stifling.

“No he hasn’t – he just wants us to feel inadequate” – Joe mumbled in a barely audible voice to Amar. Amar cackled nervously – his throat was so dry that it came as a hiss. All of them burst out laughing. The pressure came down a little.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is sort of like a rite of passage” – Mani said calmly & paraded them inside the Strip Club. “My father took me to one when I turned 18”. Vipin followed unsteadily on his feet, pondering this unusual father-son relationship.

This was their 1^st field trip to this strange town. For Vipin, Joe & Amar, it was their 1^st field trip ever. They had worked thru the week, setting up the new application. Friday evening saw them with nothing to do. That’s when Mani nonchalantly asked them out on a field trip of a different kind.

It was pitch dark inside the club. Slowly their eyes adjusted & they saw a large, cavernous room with muted lights. There was a bar, doing brisk business. There was a lighted stage. “Oh, here is where the girls…” – Joe stammered. “Yes”, said Mani tersely.

Tables & chairs were arranged around the stage, lighted discretely. They moved towards the chairs, in a daze. Vipin felt numbed. Strangely, all feeling had left him.

A smartly dressed usher received them & politely took their drink orders. “Do you think he’s a pimp?” – Joe wondered aloud to Amar. Amar cackled again. This was his safety valve, his mechanism to release pent-up pressure. Mani gave a piercing stare – if looks could kill, Joe & Amar would be lying in a heap.

Some drink was thrust in Vipin’s hands. He nursed it mutely, wondering what he was doing here. Joe & Mani were downing their drinks. Amar was shaking in his socks. “Can I drink this, uh, later?” “Suit yourself, you wuss” – said Joe.

The lights came on at the stage. A skimpily dressed young girl, not much older than Vipin’s sister, came on the stage. She had something on her hands. Vipin stared stupidly at it. It took him some time to realize it was a mike. She was belting out a Hindi film song. She was attractive in a cheap sort of way. She slowly danced around the tables, singing in a nasal voice.

When she came close to them – “Khapde Nikaal, Khapde Nikaal” – shouted a big, burly man in the next table. A vein in his temple was throbbing. “Yea, take off your clothes” – shouted Amar, frenzied. He was standing on his chair – the burly man laughed at him. The girl looked at Amar coldly & said – “I’m a singer, not a stripper. Get it?” Amar fell on his seat like a deflated balloon.

When the girl finished, 2 women entered the stage. “Aren’t they over-dressed” – asked Joe. “It all comes off” – replied Mani smugly. So this was IT. The air around was stifling. The stage lights turned a fiery amber. For some reason it bothered Vipin. If only it would turn a normal color. “Mani, the lights” – “Sshh”.

The women were not too young. They must be above 30, thought Vipin. He couldn’t fathom the expression on their faces. It looked strangely familiar though. What was it?

The music – was it a Samba? Vipin wasn’t sure. On his right, Amar was gulping one drink after another. The crescendo of the music increased steadily. The women started by removing their scarves in unison. The crescendo increased steadily, little by little. Vipin eyed the folks around him. Joe’s eyes had a glazed look. The big, burly man’s face resembled some animal’s. Jackal, perhaps.

An hour later, the friends emerged from the club. Nobody spoke. “I – need – to – stop” – blurted Amar. And he vomited copiously on Mani’s feet. “You Jackass!” howled Mani, losing his cool. Amar fell like a log. He then wetted his pants. “Its my mistake, buying drinks for mamma’s boys like you” – Mani gave him a kick.

Vipin noticed that Joe still had that glazed look. “What cute….” – Joe started, then stopped. His eyes flickered open. “Oh, God – why did I come to a place like this!” – Joe started sobbing hysterically. “What will my f-f-father think if he knew!”

“Vipin – Its left to you & me to drag these slobs back to the hotel” – grunted Mani. He looked disgustedly at his fallen friends. Joe kept sobbing – it sounded like a hacking, labored cough.

After reaching the hotel, Mani lit a cigarette. “I know now” – said Vipin. “What” – asked Mani languidly. He looked satiated. Joe had stopped sobbing, but the glazed look had returned. “They looked tired” – said Vipin. “Who did?” – Mani. “The, what do you call them, dancers”. “What? Look Vipin – you are the only one that hasn’t gone weird on me today. Don’t start now”.

Amar mumbled something in his sleep. Mani switched on the fan. A stiff breeze started.

How to (not to) criticize?

Criticizing someone’s performance or giving feedback to someone is a tough thing to do. I’m sure all of you will agree with that. Recently I came across an article in The Hindu newspaper that seemed to violate every principle of giving feedback that I know of.  Article link: http://www.hindu.com/fr/2007/05/04/stories/2007050401880500.htm
A person called SVK had written this review about a vocal concert by Sikkil C. Gurcharan. He’s an artiste that I have covered on this blog before and in my view he’s actually pretty good. Of course, I’m not an expert in carnatic music like SVK. First the title caught my attention – “Free rein to vocal amplitude” by SVK Then the first paragraph went like this – 
” In asserting his loud voice, Sikkil Gurucharan sacrificed musical subtleties. A heavy voice carries with it an inherent inability to provide musical sensitivity. It hampers gracious negotiation of sancharas in alapanas with melodic refinement garnished by gana-naya technique. Of course, it can contribute to sumptuousness by vocal depth sans elegance of execution. If a musician consciously controls tonal modulation to impart these qualities, his kutcheri would certainly be top class.
In the kutcheri of Sikkil Gurucharan, under the auspices of Sri Thyaga Brahma Gana Sabha, the aim seemed to be assertiveness of his loud voice, solid in sound pattern but lacking in nadha subtleties. He gave a free rein to his vocal amplitude but cultured singing depends on delicate sensitivities.” SVK takes Gurcharan down further in the next few paras and sums it up with a damning conclusion that Gurcharan’s accompanying artistes did a better job! This article got me all riled up and I showed it to Priya Raju and she was quite upset as well and here’s why: 1. SVK seems to say that because Gurcharan has a loud voice subtleties escape him. The problem is that this attacks the recipient’s physical attributes as opposed to the output. This is like telling someone that the output is bad because s/he is having a low IQ. He could still say as an expert the concert lacked some subtleties, but to tie that back to the artiste’s loud voice is a hit below the belt. 2. SVK grudgingly acknowledges in between that some parts of the concert were good but later on again gives negative feedback. The problem again is that even if you find an entire performance completely bad, you can’t say that in that way.  You must think about the person receiving the feedback or criticism. I learnt a good technique in Toasmasters a while go known as the sandwich technique – you first talk about something good the person did, then talk about a couple of areas of improvement and then close with a good thing the person did. This technique works wonders because by talking postive things, you first grab the attention of the recipient, then deliver the message on areas of improvements and then close with a positive message reinforcing the good work the person is doing. Giving feedback is an art.  In my view it is the acid test of a manager.  SVK definitely flunked this test miserably (hope the hindu management will look into it). What about you? What type of techniques do you adopt?  Have you noticed any good technqiues when you received feedback?

Can passion be taught? – part 2

Milind Sathe (http://milindsathe.wordpress.com) has posted a phenomenal response to my question. Well done Milind. He quotes examples from his personal life on how he became passionate about Ghazals and Golfing and comes up with the concept of a trigger. The idea being that one’s passion needs to be kindled by a trigger. Where I disagreed with Milind is his assertion that passion can’t be taught.

I was talking to my niece Archana Mahadevan about this and she is of the opinion that it couldn’t be taught as well. She is smart and I respect her (she is joining Google and I’m proud of her). She recounted how she became passionate about advertising. Archana Raghuram is also of the view that it couldn’t be taught. But since I wouldn’t accept it, she has sort of agreed but not entirely I think.

Sujatha Manivasagam also seems to think that it couldn’t be taught. That set me thinking and I think it could be an issue of semantics. Would it help you all if I asked “can passion be learnt” instead of taught? In my mind, if you have learnt something you have certainly been taught. Maybe not in the strictest sense of having a real teacher and going to a class but you have been taught all the same. If you look at Milind’s examples or Archana’s aunt’s story it is clear that you can learn passion for a new subject and you most often learn to be passionate. Except possibly for child prodigies no one really is born with a passion for a topic.

We all learn it due to a trigger to borrow Milind’s idea. Now to answer Milind’s questions:
1. Can you be passionate about something you are not good at?

I am very passionate about public speaking, blogging/writing but I can’t say I’m good at these to the extent I’d like to be.

2. Can you be good at something but not be passionate about it?

I used to be good at math in college but I wasn’t passionate about it. I was passionate about physics. Up next, myself and Archana Raghuram explored the connection between ambition and passion.

Do you have to have ambition to be passionate? What is the connection? What do you all think?