SAST Wingees

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Fine Tastings of the Week v2.0 – this time inspired by twitterrers

Prolog

I used to do this series called Fine Tastings of the Week – the fine links i came across in my journey across the Internet. Lot of people appreciated that series but i couldn’t keep up with that series due to a variety of reasons, chief among them my laziness 🙂  i did this series because secretly i wanted to be a great link blogger  like Waxy , high hopes i guess.

Recently, many people on twitter tell me that the links i share on twitter are very useful to them. Thanks to all those twitterers who encourage me. I thought wouldn’t be nice if we could extract only those tweets that are containing links and my annotations “~” followed by some keywords like interesting, brilliant etc and create a blog post out of this? This way anyone who is not on twitter and also those that missed the important tweets can read them – a sort of a tweet digest – the Fine Tastings of the Week v2.0.

I called A. Prem (aka scorpfromhell), our very own UberBlogger/Twitterer and within a few hours he created a Yahoo Pipe that will do the same. very cool, right?

Fine Tastings of the Week

The numbered title links to the actual tweet followed by the tweet with the link highlighted.

1.How attention scarcity creates innovation opportunity

RT @kencooperusa: invisible hand of time: How attention scarcity creates innovation opportunity ~ brilliant

2. 8 things I wish I knew in college

8 thing I wish I knew in college ~ vv insightful /via @dorait

3. Was ‘God’s Wife’ Edited Out of the #Bible?”

RT @varnam_blog: “Fertility Goddess Asherah: Was ‘God’s Wife’ Edited Out of the #Bible?” http://ti.me/fbgFZr ~ vv interesting

4. phantomjs – headless webkit renderer

phantomjs – headless webkit renderer ~ vv cool /via @waxpancake

5. 5 ways enterprise microblogging can make you a better leader

RT @S_Sivakumar: 5 ways enterprise microblogging can make you a better leader ~ http://ow.ly/4m1FN (via @ParamShobhit) ~ vv insightful

Epilog

Hope all of you liked this approach to sharing the fine tastings of the week? Can you please comment and let me know your feedback?

References

I use a certain ratings scale for my annotations which are explained here.

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Guilty of Innocence

The minute I entered the classroom, I knew something was amiss. The girls were huddled together in groups, their faces bent forward, discussing something in whispers. This was not new, but strangely enough, even my group – the “Grand Band of Geeks” – was discussing something animatedly. I wondered what common topic had united my group with the rest of the class. The last time my group was this excited, we were debating if Pluto was a planet. It nearly came to blows.

I looked at my friends questioningly. “Sankari is missing,” said Arul. I shrugged my shoulders. Sankari had been absent for the past 2 days. “What’s so strange about that? She probably has a touch of flu.” I scoffed. “Why are you so excited? Is it a new strain of a virus?” I hazarded a guess. “No, you Dodo” hissed Latha. “She is MIA. Missing”.  I must have still looked clueless, for she added in an exasperated tone “She. Has. Run. Away”.

“What’s this?” I thought. We were in the 7^th grade, a little too early for boys, desperate love affairs and elopement. “We should ask Fatima,” I suggested. Fatima was our Class Leader. “Did you think of that on your own?” said Arul in mock amazement. For a group of girls had already gathered around a frazzled Fatima. When did Sankari run away? Who informed the school? Have the police been notified? “Girls, girls!” said Fatima, parting the crowds as Moses parted the Red Sea. “Sankari’s father gave a leave letter 2 days ago, stating she had a flu. But today, the Headmistress was notified that she has indeed run away from home. And yes, the cops are on it!”

“Golly! Do you know where she ran away?” asked Geetha. She was a tad slow on the uptake.  We rolled our eyes.

* * * * *

Our visibly upset class teacher, Miss Jacinta entered the classroom with our Headmistress Sister Maria in tow. We immediately simmered down and took our seats. Our Headmistress always had that effect on us.

“As you all know very well by now” said Miss Jacinta dryly “Sankari is missing”. “We heard she has run away from home, Miss” Geetha blurted out. Miss Jacinta flinched as if she had been slapped. “Girls, we don’t know if she ran away or if she has been kidnapped” she said. A hush fell over the class. “Don’t mince words, Jessie” snapped Sister Maria. “They’re old enough to know the truth”. She turned to us and said “Your class-mate Sankari left home in the dead of night 2 days back. She packed 2 sets of clothes and her teddy bear. She also helped herself to Rs 100 from her mother’s purse”.

“But sister, why did she run away?” asked Anne in a tinny voice from the backbench. “That’s what we don’t know,” said Sister Maria, with beads of perspiration on her forehead. “But the priority is to find her and get her back home safe”.

Wagging her finger, Miss Jacinta said, “This is not a hot bit of gossip. Please don’t spread unsavory rumors about Sankari. Gossip can destroy a girl’s life. Above all, don’t talk about this to anyone except your parents”.

Thus admonished, we settled back to thinking about Sankari and what we knew about her.

* * * * *

I knew very little about Sankari. My 1^st interaction with her was on a school play. I played a Noble Man (ours was an “All Girls” school) and Sankari played my valet. She would say “I pray thee for leave, My Lord” and I had to say “Of course, Jack. Here’s a purse full of gold coins for your service”. Jack was the hero of the play, so all of us wanted to play Jack. Sankari got that role because she had short hair. The rest of us were sore for a week, eyeing our long tresses with disdain.

Apart from that, our worlds seldom crossed. Well, they crossed occasionally. I tutored her in algebra, her weak subject. We lived in the same neighborhood and we sometimes took the same bus to school. We exchanged pleasantries, talked about cricket and music. She seemed like a cheerful, ordinary, if not an excessively bright girl. What could have caused her to run away?

“Have you seen her family?” asked Fatima. I nodded. They lived in a small, nondescript house 2 blocks away. Their fence badly needed repainting. Her father worked somewhere in an “office”, which is euphemism for “I don’t know what he did for a living.” Her mother was a homemaker. Sankari had a younger sister. Her photocopy.

They went out for a walk on Sundays – Sankari clinging tightly to her father’s hands. Once a month, they ate out in a restaurant – The same restaurant, every month. Sankari sat next to her father. He would feed her morsels sometimes. A normal family, one would say. And boring.

* * * * *

A few days later, Sankari was found, sleeping in an abandoned shed in a nearby village. She had not fought with the police when they found her. She obediently seated herself in the squad car.

We were warned not to probe Sankari – At all. “Don’t ask her why she ran away or where she went”, we were instructed. “Make no mention of the fact that she has been missing for the past 1 week”. Miss Jacinta turned a baleful eye towards us. “And if anyone makes even a causal mention of her disappearance or cuts a cruel joke – They have to contend with me”.

And so Sankari returned to school, 2 days later. She looked cheerful, as always – As if nothing had happened. We struggled, but maintained a normal relationship with her – we kept up the usual banter.

Miss Jacinta took me aside. “I need a favor from you, as you are the hall monitor”. “Yes, Miss?” I added helpfully. “Er, just keep an eye on Sankari without making her nervous. We don’t want her to, ah, do anything dangerous to herself”.  I goggled at Miss Jacinta stupidly, willing her to say more. But she dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

During lunch, our classroom was locked. The Hall Monitor barred everyone from entering the classroom. As you know, I was the hall monitor and here was Sankari trying to sneak into the room. “I just need my medicine,” she explained placidly to me. “I, uh, need to see the medicine” I insisted, following her into the classroom. “I’m the hall monitor”. “Sure” she said and handed me the medicine from her pencil box. It said “Paracetamol”. I wordlessly handed the medicine back to Sankari. Unknown to me, I had her on a suicide watch.

* * * * *

Where did Sankari go? What did she eat? Where did she sleep? Above all – Why did she run away? I never got any germane answers to these questions. Neither did my peer group.

Years later, I was having coffee with a client, who had become a close friend of mine. I was always puzzled by my client’s intense love-hate relationship with her father, though the details eluded me. On that day, she was talking about her sister – Millie. “Do you know, once Millie ran away from home? We found her 10 days later”. I nodded my head sympathetically. “My father – She couldn’t handle what he did”, she said tears welling up. “If only the cops knew, they would have thrown him in jail and lost the keys”.

I was slowly beginning to understand why Sankari ran away.

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The Happiness Quotient – Part 2

Ever since the Richter 9 Earthquake struck, we’ve been haunted by images of Tsunami ravaged Japan. Its hard to describe the tragedy unfolding in that country – A woman searching for her nephew among the rubble; the swollen sea sucking school children in; Stark images of battered bodies torturing us from our TV screens. Many people lost family members, their homes, their life’s savings or their livelihood.

To a greater or lesser degree, our lives are fraught with grief, loss or tragedy. The sadness from these is temporary. We may be scarred for life, but we move on. But what do we make of people who proclaim they’re unhappy for no tangible reason? What do we make of their search for happiness?

Many of those between 30 & 45 – especially from the upper strata of society – are unable to cope with the existential angst of living in a post-modern society. Pursuing a career saps all their energy and time. Many are in responsible jobs, which means dealing with inordinate amounts of stress.

Many live in nuclear families, so the support structures of a joint family are non-existent or scant. Their identities such as caste, race, language, religion and place of origin are becomingly increasingly irrelevant, leading to a feeling of rootlessness. Under the auspices of this altered landscape, people have to forge new identities and deal with Gen-Next and their burgeoning individuality – a new concept for India.

This leads to fatigue – and the question “Why am I constantly struggling? To what purpose?”. This either leads them towards Spirituality (along with the attendant god-men) or in a search for Happiness with a Capital H.

What happens when one is too happy? There’s a word for it – “Euphoria”. It is defined as “an exaggerated feeling of great elation and well-being”. “Euphoria” is Happiness on hyper-drive. Shall we see how euphoria feels like?

I was engulfed by this warm feeling of happiness. I was in a room surrounded by beautiful people. Everything was perfect. I felt a great closeness to all the people in the room as if they were part of something greater, beyond human understanding. I wanted to go around & hug everybody. Time had stopped. There was no a past or future anymore but I existed in a moment within space and time. And a beautiful moment it was. Every aspect of it, the people, the surroundings all seemed to fit perfectly together.

The band was playing drum and bass. I became one with the music. I couldn’t help but dance infectiously to its rhythms. It didn’t matter that no one else was dancing. My ego was gone. I was truly free to dance without worrying what others thought of me. I was charged up. And while I danced I began to feel that I was a soul existing inside a body. My body was not what defined me as a self.

Was that “Happiness”? Or that other, often misused word, “Spirituality”? Neither. It’s a description of an MDMA trip on the drug “Ecstasy”. Ecstasy floods the brain with 3 neurotransmitters – Serotonin, Dopamine and Norepinephrine. This elevates the mood for a short period and depletes the brain of Serotonin. Extended use of Ecstasy affects the neurons in the brain causing lasting damage.

So, we can safely conclude that prolonged periods of “Euphoria” will have the same effect on the brain – with our without ecstasy – Confusion, (interestingly enough) depression, impairment of memory, paranoia and attention deficit.

The school of life needs to dole out occasional hard knocks to us. We need to fail sometimes. Only then will our happy moments seem sweeter. Without unhappiness, there’s no happiness.

Is “Happiness” the same as “Bliss”? Bliss is defined as the “Supreme Happiness. Or Euphoria”. Ouch.

Why is happiness so important? The American Declaration of Independence grants every citizen 3 unalienable rights – “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness”.

I don’t search for happiness. Instead I focus on a few other words. I mentioned 3 of those words in Part-1 – Contentment. Maturity. Family & Friends (Ok, that’s 2 words). Here are a few other words.

• Stimulation. A happy brain is a stimulated brain. Learn new things – preferably something you’ve never done before. Dancing. Learning a new language. Making a short film. Doing puzzles. Joining a Book Club.

• Generosity. Be a giving person. If you do not have money, give your time. Be a volunteer. Select causes that you support – Is it Animal Welfare? Gay Rights? Educating Inner City Kids? Mentoring Immigrants? Pick one and start working on it.

• Expertise. At the risk of sounding rude: Do not waste your time on finding out what your calling is. Very few people have a calling – perhaps 5% of the population, the geniuses. The rest of us have to try things out & pick what appeals to us the most. Then, develop in-depth expertise in that field. This will be a fulfilling experience.

• Accomplishment. Or Success. When you look back on your life, what are the laurels you have won? Were you a sought out public speaker? Did you win a medal in Math? Were you praised for your singing? Are you so good in baking that you wrote a book? Or even – Were you the best bug fixer in the team?

I find that focusing on these words automatically makes me happy. For happiness is a by-product. You can’t chase it directly, it’s a derivative of what you do with your life.

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The Happiness Quotient – Part 1

I know an elderly woman – perhaps 60, looks 70 – who’s a sweeper in Blue Cross. She’s single and has a bed-ridden sister to take care of. She used to own a flat – “617 SQFT, madam”, she told me – but lost it due to her gullibility. She now lives in a hut, trying to make ends meet in the paltry INR 4,000 (approximately $100) per month paid by Blue Cross.

She’s reasonably fluent in English, but couldn’t find a better job. She finds her job beneath her dignity, especially since she comes from the upper-most caste in India – the Brahmins. She’s an unhappy woman, dejected with her life. Her sorrow is writ large on her well-lined face.

I empathize with her – I understand her unhappiness.

What I can’t understand is the burgeoning unhappiness amongst the upper middle class and the supra-rich in the world, particularly India. There are a lot of God-men and God-women pandering to this need, entrenching themselves well in this business of coaxing people that they deserve to be happier than they are.

What about the previous generation – those past 50? Did they need any classes on the Art of Living? Or on Life Bliss? Why then does this generation – those between the ages of 30 and 45 – need classes to teach them happiness and wellbeing?

To be fair, the previous generation didn’t have to deal with grueling schedules or work over the weekends. Their promotions were based mostly on qualification and seniority – not on merit as judged by their bosses. Appraisals were a mere formality – they were not heartbreaking affairs, as they are now.

Naturally, they made a lot less money than the present generation. Interestingly enough, they led happier lives. More Money = More Happiness isn’t a valid equation anyway.

Let’s try to understand why the previous generation was happier.

Their work-lives couldn’t have been stress-free, but they accepted it as part of life. They didn’t have an option. Acceptance makes burdens lighter. They also worked 9 – 5 jobs, which left a lot of quality time with family. And they placed emphasis on their family life – Family was the 1^st Priority. Their lives were filled with minor and major festivals and the intricacies of dealing with them. Their pleasures were simple – a visit to the temple, a concert and an occasional visit to a restaurant. Summer vacations were spent with the extended family.

Do you see a pattern emerging here? They derived pleasure from being with other people. They relished simple joys. They did not aspire for a bigger house, an LED TV or a vacation to Spain. They were – shall I say this – Contented?

So is “Contentment” another word for “Happiness”?

To understand happiness better, shall we see what happiness isn’t? Depression. As a chronic migraine sufferer, I go through periods of intense serotonin lows. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that determines how “Happy” we are, for want of a better word. So from time to time, I go through what can only be termed bouts of depression.

My “depression” (for I don’t know what else to call it) is organic. Contrary to what you think, I don’t feel sad when I’m “depressed”. My sense of humor actually kicks up a notch. But I feel “Flat” – In neutral gear. I don’t feel the “Ups” and I’m curiously detached. I become more obsessive about work. And I feel like an automaton – I’m incapable of feeling. While its not an unpleasant state to be in permanently, its far from being an ideal state.

So is happiness simply having constant “Ups”, feeling frenetically attached, letting your hair down at work and feeling intensely? Honestly, that doesn’t seem like a nice state – it sounds more like someone stuck at being 5 years old. You’ll end up getting hurt or fired – but hey, you’ll have constant “Ups”?

We’re getting definitely somewhere. Too much happiness ain’t good for you. What we need is – moderation. We need more “Ups” than “Downs”, we need to feel (but know how to engage the neutral gear), be attached (but know how to detach ourselves when needed), have fun (but know when to take work seriously). Gee, that sounds a lot like another word – Maturity. Or Balance.

So is sustainable “Happiness” the same as being “Mature”?

What is an “Up”? It’s a short burst of feeling good about yourself. The entire happiness industry is based on the principle that such “Ups” can be endlessly extended. The corollary is, if you aren’t so happy that you’re beaming sunshine from your butt, you’re a failure.

What do we call this extended “Up” cycle? There’s a different word for that too. Its called being “Cheerful”. Interestingly enough, they did a longitudinal study in 1922 involving 1,216 kids. All the kids who were markedly cheerful died early. The trouble is, those with a perennially sunny disposition are unable to assess problems and risks in a meaningful manner.

So what’s the use of happiness if too much happiness kills us? Happiness is a fleeting reward circuitry conjured up by our brains. Eat that chocolate. Flirt with that girl. Be praised by the boss.

Fact is, there are some things that are far more important than “Happiness”. Perhaps when people realize the pleasures from those, they’ll stop hankering after happiness.

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Maintenance, an Untouchable

“I’m de-motivated because I’m in a Maintenance project”.

“Can I move to a development project? I’d like to learn more”.

“But, my batch-mates are in development projects learning cutting edge technology”.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve heard these phrases – or variations to this theme.

I’ve always liked maintenance projects. It’s a challenge, understanding how another architect-designer duo visualized the application. I love reading through maintenance logs, to see what problems were fixed earlier. I like the thrill of anticipating problems & fixing them before they strike. I love the adrenaline rush of production problems. I think piecing together the business process from an undocumented legacy application suite is as fun as doing a jigsaw puzzle. But I seem to be part of a minority, a thin slice.

I’ve often wondered – Why do Indian Software Engineers hate maintenance projects? I’ve worked closely with Americans & they don’t seem to whine as much as Indians about being relegated to maintenance projects. In fact, they take pride in being Subject Matter Experts. It boosts their esteem that – when there’s a production problem, they’re the go-to guys/gals.

So what do we make of this uniquely Indian problem?

Look around you, if you’re in India. If you’re not in a village – for villages anywhere are beautiful – You’ll see an ugly 3^rd world country. The ugliness maybe interrupted here & there by state of the art buildings, like putting lipstick on a pig. But it leaves you with an overall feeling of – squalor and neglect.

The roads have more potholes than tar. The pedestrian walkways are dirty and disintegrating. Buildings cry out for a coat of paint. The glass windows are dusty, with the sun-control film peeling off.  Nobody has bothered to wipe the grime off signboards.  Garbage lies everywhere.

You enter a small shop & the vitrified tiles on the floor are broken.  Laminates are peeling off, revealing the ugly plywood underneath. Dirt-encrusted fingerprints are on the interior walls and nobody has bothered to wash them off.  Fitting room mirrors are cracked and spotted.

You visit a friend, to see the ceiling fans festooned in cobwebs. The kitchen chimney is coated with permagrime – dust and soot trapped in a thick film of grease. The corners of walls have chipped off, and a layer of dust has settled on the filigree work in the door.

You take your child to an amusement park and 2 of the 6 rides don’t work. Permanently.

You go to the local gym and find that the Elliptical rider emits a high-pitched squeak. In fact, it has been emitting that squeak for the past 6 months.

This is the classic 3^rd world look – A general air of neglect, slowly but surely embracing all structures in pervasive decrepitude. So much that a mall built 2 years back looks 10 years old.

And yet, everyone seems to be oblivious to it all. You are the only one complaining, so you must have put on Firang airs.

What causes this decrepitude? Our poor understanding of maintenance. We don’t understand that building spanking new things is less important than maintaining what we already have. We don’t understand the effort needed to maintain anything, be it a house, a store, a road, a pavement or an airport. We think our $$$ should be spent in building something, not in keeping it in good working condition. We don’t comprehend the pride in keeping a gym equipment in pristine condition. We are not ashamed when something we are responsible for breaks down.

In fact, we don’t design anything with ease of maintenance in mind. Nothing is maintained and nothing is built to be maintained. Given the general lack of awareness on maintenance, given the fact that maintenance is often given the lowest priority – is it any wonder that Software Engineers hate maintenance projects?

Maintenance – We don’t “get it”. It is our collective failure as a society.

Disclaimer: This blog neither supports nor condones untouchability. We merely used that word to capture the ethos of the Indian Software Engineers. Untouchability is an offense against the principles of equality enshrined in the law and a crime against humanity.