Beauty of un-manifested potential

'I, at any rate, am convinced that He(God) isn't playing at dice', wrote Einstein in a 1926 letter to Max Born, a German quantum physicist.
The statement reflected his long held view that quantum mechanics, built on the assumption of a fundamental uncertainty principle limiting the capacity of an observer to measure physical properties, wasn't beautiful enough to be loved by God.
For long I have sided with his view. It is queasy to believe in a scientific description of reality that suggests an electron can be part here and part there at the same moment, and only when you actually go ahead and try to find it, will it come into existence, either here or there. It is not comfortable to believe in a world that is fundamentally built on uncertainty. It is easy to presume the theory is not clean or beautiful- the occam's razor quite literally cuts through it.
My thoughts, over the past few year have, however, changed.
I wrote a long time back in another post that the most beautiful love stories are the ones that are never completed. When you have to part ways before getting together or maybe immediately after. That's when the beauty of the love leaves the real and enters the meta-physical. It is not bound by the practicalities of the real-life, it can metamorphose into any form in your mind and be radiantly colored with millions of emotions and truths at the same time. When the love becomes real, it gets manifested into one exact reality, one definite experience, one real truth. Still feels great, but not as beautiful.
During my b-school days, there was almost a fad of wearing IIM branded merchandise. While the fact that these t-shirts came in cheap (like Rs 300 cheap), also added to their demand, there was something special about carrying the brand on you. I think it made us all very happy wearing those t-shirts but looking back I don't think the happiness had anything to do with any specific achievement at that point in life. After-all, at that point, I had no job, no girl-friend, no car, barely enough money, and a lot of stress related to what my life would be. I think the happiness came from the limitless possibilities that life held out. In our heads we were CEOs and gurus and subject matter experts and writers. The limitless possibilities of our yet un-manifested potential made us feel that life beckoned loudly and something special was about to begin. As soon as you come out of these institutes though, you become marketing managers and investment bankers and credit risk analysts. Still make money, but not as beautiful.
Pick up an achievement. Any one that you have ever imagined in your head, worked hard towards it and achieved. Did it feel as great as it did in your mind, before you got it? What went missing? Did the achievement look smaller in retrospect or did you not get something you thought would come with the achievement. Did the achievement look easier in hind-sight or did the fact someone else got it too started to bother you. Did you not factor in the fact that you'll be analyzing it once you've achieved it in your imagination? I think you get the point.
So today I think exactly opposite to what Einstein said. I think there is an innate beauty in the un-manifested. Un-manifested is the whole, unbroken, while any manifestation is touched by reality, broken. Un-manifested is the dream, the manifested are the choices. Un-manifested is the soul, manifested are the senses. Assuming that God loves beauty, I believe, he doesn't only play dice, he revels in it.

PS: This blog idea seemed like a much better idea in my head. I am not kidding!

Come Inside.

Come.

Hold my hand and walk-in,

Mind your head, and mind your feet,

I am sorry if it smells weird, I am so used to it, I forget.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

But don’t touch anything. Not yet.

Let me quickly lock the door once.
I don’t allow visitors here anymore. Not everyone gets this place.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

Let me show you a cup-board,

There are many of these here. This one is of lies.

You can go through them if you like, but you would not like what you find,

No souls were hurt though as the cupboard was filled. Okay, maybe a few.

But it has not always been like that

Come.

Look under the bed there is a bag

I hide it so someday I can forget it. It has all my fears.

It has spiders and monsters at the bottom, but on top it’s mostly people.

It has a few I could fight- of heights & the deep blue sea.
And some I believe I can’t ever win.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

See my reflection in the mirror.

The mist makes me look weird. Since I was young I’ve tried to wipe the mist

But it doesn’t go away. Sometimes I feel there might be no mist.

I think maybe I am the weird reflection. Am I? Don’t answer. I won’t believe you.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

Look at the walls. Aren’t they beautiful?

They are patchy I know. But even the patches are my favorite colors.

Others painted them with their colors once. I allowed them to.

I tried hiding their paint with mine when they left. No one but me paints these walls.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

See this locked room.

Inside I’ve dumped everything that my soul couldn’t carry.

It has my rage and greed and envy and pride. And all the people I hurt with these.

I lock it and the thick wooden door holds the voices inside.

At times, the lock breaks and the voices start seeping out. Happens quite often.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

Here near the hearth. It is the warmest place in here

It is where I spend most of my time- it has my friends & stories, my ideas & ambitions

And it has the white flower. That I know will grow into greatness.

I tend to it every-day. It is unique and beautiful but it is very weak.

You can water it some-day. I won’t mind that if you do.

But it has not always been like that.

Come.

Now show me how your head looks from inside.

Ahem Ahem...

    Long time since I’ve been away from this page. It wasn’t because nothing much was happening in my life, on the contrary, it was because too much of happening around me and I just couldn’t get around putting all the words on paper.

    Much has happened in my professional and personal life since the last time I saved my keystrokes on this page. This post however will not be about those changes. And for that matter, this post isn’t about anything else as well. I just want to break the silence between me and my blog. Silence has this weird way of going from friendly to comfortable to uncomfortable with time. And not only that, silence has a shield of its own. With each passing moment, the words required to break the silence need to be more and more meaningful. Therefore, the best way to kill silence is to take it by surprise. To stuff it up with something trivial when it was expecting was something very grand. And to this effect I publish this post. A post of nothing to tell I’ll be talking soon…

Home

For the longest time I remember, home was simply the place where my mother lived. It was also the place where you didn't shout too loudly, didn't break things and certainly never wrote on the walls. It was the place where you returned to from school, the place you returned to from games, the place you returned to from the market… it was simply the place you returned to. Sometimes we'd have guests at home and during those days my Mom would discipline me much more often. She'd make me eat at the dining table and make sure I watch TV from a distance. So having guests at home was always a nuisance to me, especially when they'd stay too long. But I was always sure they would be gone soon, after all, they too had a home somewhere where they must return to.

The best part about home was this seemingly unquestionable permanence. I would return from school and it was always waiting for me in its neat and tidy form. I would have my room that would have my cupboard that would have my toys and my clothes. The drawing room would have our sofa facing our TV with our choice of channels. In the bathroom were my soap and my toothbrush. Basically, everywhere around was our stuff.

And there was always food. I knew food was my mother's forte. Her cooking could simply beat the shit out of other mothers' cooking. And she would mix and match the food so perfectly –the paranthas would accompany rajma in the afternoon and the same rajma would be floating in the evening only to team up with rice. Looking back I am amazed at how much she could make from what now appears to be only a handful of vegetables and pulses. Maybe it was never about the variety anyways, maybe there was something about being at home and she making it.

I remember changing houses a couple of times when I was young. That never used to change much for me though. Once it just changed my school bus stand and at the other time it changed my bus number. It meant making new friends on the way to my school and back and new friends in the street to play with. But as soon as I returned back home, I was back in the land where all stuff was clean and all stuff was mine. Where fridge bottles automatically filled themselves, dirty clothes - washed and ironed found their way to my cupboards. And there was always Mom around.

The first major change came when I joined under-grad. Luckily, my college too happened to be in Delhi. With more time and more freedom I could explore much more of the city and I understood how my home was connected to everything else. The college, the cinemas, the markets, the monuments, friend's houses and even the roads became familiar. Delhi became a place I shared with my friends and family. Delhi too became home.

The first time I moved out of my home was for Microsoft, in early 2008. It was also the first time I tried to come to terms with the reality that homes change. I guess the process of leaving home that started back in 2008 has now ended. I now don't miss home and Delhi in the same sense I once did. I guess I've learnt the art of putting together a home- at least the make-shift kind. Put in some cleanliness, some cupboard full of personal belongings, some books, some lights, and some photographs. Surround yourself with caring friends and get to know the places. The water bottles and clothes need slight more attention but it works out in the end. The only limitation is Mom can't be here and food can't be great, but that would be too much to ask from a make-shift home anyways.

In another few months, I'd have moved again. A new place to work at, a new city to belong to, a new home to create. A dear professor describes a home as the human attempt at pissing around the territory that belongs to him, just like a dog does. Despite the coarse language, I'd have to say he isn't too far from the truth. I guess home is just the place we call our own. It is a place that houses our stuff and stacks our kind of food. It is a place where you know the shortcuts around, on roads and otherwise. It is a place where strange isn't too strange and unfamiliar is still quite familiar. It is a place that is surrounded by friends. And most importantly it is a place where you are surrounded by your loved ones. Here's hoping we all build happy homes.

10 things they do teach you at IIMs

So I’ve finished a year of MBA, or in quantitative words “I am half a manager”. In hindsight, it wasn’t that bad after all. In-fact, I could go out on limb and confess that the last term was actually very good. The past year was one with a lot of learning, most of it involuntary. It just came about as a consequence of trying to survive in the new world order that exists inside these institutes.

I’ve read about so many articles about ‘list of things they do not teach you at IIMs’. That is of course a more interesting topic to write upon, because the things they do teach are mostly academics that tends to be inherently boring. However at a good b-school, what they teach and what you learn is not really the same. A b-school is designed like a system, and not just a student-teacher interaction. The lectures, projects, quizzes, assignments, committees, clubs, internship, events and everything else are part of the system. And the system manages to teach you much more than what you’d gain in a classroom. So how does the system work? I really have no idea. You just have to be a part of the system to reap its rewards.

Regardless of how they managed to put it across, there are a few learning that changed the way I think about things. I would like to share ten of them here. Are these ten the only takeaways from the first year? Nope. This is just my list. So will reading this list equate to a year at the institute? Not really. I can share these observations, but I can’t share the conviction I have in my mind about them being true. Their strengths, weaknesses, limitations and assumptions are all context driven. Does it justify investing a year in b-school to gain that conviction? I think so!

1. Diminishing marginal utility: The more of something you have, the less its demand and vice-versa. Explains why sleep during exams, time during projects and girls already committed are so much in demand.
2. Price: It is the cause and it is the effect. It is the truth. Getting the price right is priceless. In the words of one Mr. Druker, if you can measure it, you can manage it
3. Objective comes first: Aim and then shoot.
4. Sunk Cost: Same as the age old “don’t cry over spilled milk”. Every second is a fresh start.
5. Find the right word: Because there is one out there and only IIM grads know them
6. Know the audience: Understand the people who’ll evaluate your work
7. MECE: In all alternatives and options try to be Mutually Exclusive-Collectively Exhaustive. It just makes you look smarter and more manager like
8. Cite: Tell your sources. Only they show that you are a graduate from a well known management institute of Northern India.
9. Market yourself: Soap sells, coke sells and even work sells. Includes opinions, view points and criticisms. Customers include professors, committees and companies.
10. You’re the best: You are the culmination of millions of random events, circumstances and choices. You are unique. And as fate would have it, those events are just the perfect combination for being a future Fortune 500 CEO

Who am I?

Am I the place I was born,

Am I the name I was given,

Am I my voice, my face, my skin,

Am I what my mother taught me to be right,

Am I the people I grew up calling friends,

Am I the man my girl-friend always wanted,

Am I the God I believe in,

Am I my family’s dreams,

Am I the future I should want to see,

Am I the advice my friends give,

Am I the hero of my favorite film,

Am I the eccentricity I conquered, or

Am I the habit I couldn’t,

Am I the voice that sounds like mine in my head,

Am I just a blank slate splattered upon by millions of random dots?

Please tell me I am not.

Please tell me I exist. 

Forms of expression

"Leave an impression"

"Put your best foot forward"

"Imprint the memories"

"Shoecase your love"

All these are not guidelines towards living a life of happiness and virtues. These are often used euphemisms for invitations to a birthday bump party @ IIM Lucknow.

What is a birthday bump party you ask? I envy your ignorance. It is a party where the birthday boy (referred here as the victim) is picked up by a group of people (called perpetrators) and then given some highflying kicks on the a**. Apparently, many gifted students at IIML have discovered their love for football during this "high flying" interaction. And many not so gifted people continue to try and work towards a "kicking" future through these interactions.

Today I was the victim. Despite my best application of strategy (including bribes, divide-and-rule and the most effective, run-like-the-wind) I was not so lucky today. The principle element that undid my strategy was ‘the cake’. Since the SynapsE members had got a cake for me, it would have been rude (though infinitely prudent) to refuse to go. So there I was, with me staring at the cake and eleven Synapsians staring at my a**. It would not have been that bad if only they hadn’t stopped staring. First they picked me up... (The content here has been suppressed because it may seriously shatter the IIM dreams of budding aspirants) ... after which they let me fall to the floor.

You see, being a day scholar most my life, my a** is accustomed to a totally different kind of treatment. It has so far contacted more-or-less cushioned surfaces or even gentler elements of nature like air and water. This inadvertent meeting with leather shoe surfaces at high velocity has totally caught it off-guard. As it withers under the pain of friendship, the pain turns to a new found vengeance. I can already see how innocent victims like me are pulled into this racket of becoming perpetrators. I was an innocent bystander to all the birthday proceedings in the past. But not anymore. The following year shall see me kick my way to bumping glory. Lord save thy a**es !

Now I will stop writing. It is time again for a walk around the room.