ANOTHER BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM MY LITTLE ONE

My little one is not little anymore but still she is my little one. These words from my little one are big words for me.

I BELIEVE IN MY MAD PURSUITS

Last Sunday, me and my family, were driving back from church, after the release of "Yeldho", the CD containing songs sung over the last 20 years plus by our church choir, the Celestial Voices. Several thoughts on this drifted through my mind and what dominated more were those about the singing madness that still persists within me.  We had slogged through several weeks of practice sessions and recording sessions at the studios, that had run into late hours in the night to get this done. And now, it was a great feeling to see it getting released. Listening to the song from the CD with all the music and harmony is one thing. But when I was sitting under a tree shade for practice in our church premises, along with the bass singers of which am a part, I could hear the plain raw melody of the supranos who were practicing inside the church. Their song slowly and softly spread all around the church, as though going up the church steeple, when the group hit the high notes. There was no music accompaniment, but still, that was a unique feel.

These days if I love a song, I keep humming or singing that, right through the day, especially on weekends. My family often would ask me whether I had got hooked on to it so much that I cannot sing something else. My father in particular, would sometimes tells me, that I am old and that people around are going to think why I am singing all intense romantic songs describing women and their features:) Now this clearly meant that all of them were yet to see a real worth in those singing attempts. Of course, they would love to hear Christian songs being sung during prayer time, but they would not believe that anything  beyond it, was worth trying now.

In the early eighties, I was approaching high school and that is when I got too passionate about songs and started singing them, sometimes right through the day. My father seeing me in this state would ask me whether my focus was in the right direction. But I was clearly mad about singing and I think he was very circumspect about acknowledging it, lest I lose focus on my academic pursuits. But singing in me, never died and I often went full blow when my father was not there at home. And in case he was there, I would get into the singing mode, while in the restroom.

But as we all know, madness and passions stay forever at least in some dormant form, how much ever these are ignored by the world around. And what lay dormant for about four to five years from then, started slowly but diffidently showing its face while I was into college. For me to realize that I was good at anything and to be confident about it, I had to always look up to my father to acknowledge. And so, if he had not acknowledged my calibre in an area, to me it was like I was really wanting in something in those areas. So, this meant that I was always a person who wanted to sing, but who was at the same time, not free and confident on stage to sing. My college mates had to keep pushing me to sing and my first stage performance was a classic royal fiasco, where I stood breathless on stage with the song all stalled. But still, my friends found me good and took me along wherever they had a get together and so I had a chance to belt out Hindi, Malayalam and Tamil songs in these small encounters. And this continued even after I got into organizations for work and is happening even now. I have sung for small groups and on stages,in these places, all without music accompaniment. Now, this for me is like being in a radio mode, to sing when friends demand. We could also term this as Music as a Service, if we align it with the latest trends in Cloud Computing:) It's only that instead of paying me money, they very liberally praise me. But then, this never fetches one an identity.

In the late eighties, while I was yet in the last year in college, mp3 players, cd players and mobile phones were still technological marvels yet to sweep India, though am not sure where else in our world they had taken off. The radio was still a big thing. My journey to college was through the public road transport and I would get to hear film songs being played at shops and marriage halls while travelling. I must confess that many times on my journey back to home, I have left the company of my friends in the bus and got down, hearing melodious songs being played at these places. Such was the madness in me and am sure I would have driven my father into a rage if he had got to know this. There have been several instances, when my wife and daughter have nudged me, because I was loudly humming or singing some song that I was mad about, in public.

It was just the day before that I had spotted an article on the Hollywood stunt director Lee Whittaker. He was the brain behind the stunts that we got to see in films like Viswaroopam, Linga and Bahubali. He grew up on a farm near a lake in Kentucky and was always jumping off the barn, riding horses and motorcycles, driving boats and swinging across creeks on a vine. He was wild and adventurous. No one back home believed he was doing action, because in his small town, Hollywood was never a real entity. Well, when madness takes a direction and brings in an identity or a monetary angle to it, that's when acceptability sets in. And until then, every person with several items of madness of this type that he or she pursues, will be looked upon as truly mad or crazy beings. It is ironical that until we build an identity or strike a monetary return, the many things that we pursue with our heart and soul into it, will remain many times as pieces of madness on the outside.

These days, an identity in solo singing comes when you penetrate into the last three or last two rounds of some reality singing show. Most of them prefer a Carnatic base. Otherwise it is the pure Carnatic singing road that is there which is a much tougher turf. But for Christian folks, carol singing and choir singing are great opportunities, though these belong to a different genre. Once we are able to fit into a group's harmony, we are in. For me, this has given me an identity. I began singing for carols when I was just 8 years old. The expectations in carol singing are not that demanding. But choir singing demands more accuracy and therefore more focus. For me, choir singing remains to be a very humbling experience because, whenever I think that am a great singer and that my voice should be heard more, the choir reminds me that I have to listen to the others and sing in harmony. That's because choir singing is not about one person singing but it is about a huge group striking a super level harmony.

Looking back, I believe, that it is important to believe in these pieces of passion or madness that each of us have in different forms and to slowly breed them, even if the whole world around thinks otherwise. After seeing the CD released and listening to the songs, my family sees value in my pursuits. But then, to polish my singing, I had to hold on to my restroom singing for decades. We never know when our pursuits will gather force and give us an identity or monetary returns. There is no doubt that when life drives us to mad corners, with its several vague twists and turns, these pursuits of madness, will come in handy and save us from really going mad.

IMPACTS TO AN ORGANIZATION - A PERSPECTIVE

TRYST WITH KITTENS

My daughter and myself went around our house trying to take snaps of a few kittens that came into the world just now. They don't belong to us and for that matter to anyone. But they gave us real joy. These were shot by my daughter.

Here's the little kitten beating the heat with a green seat.

MY FIRST RENDEZVOUS WITH PROFESSIONAL HAPHAZARDNESS

It was just the second week at work for me in my first ever job. I was into the night shift right away. Since we were on an overtime mode, the first batch which I was into at that time and which started at 6.00 am in the morning, would close only at 6.30 p.m. My first department where I was posted was the precision machine shop. As a rookie engineer, I had to learn to man the line with an experienced supervisor. In the process, I also had to pick up the technical aspects. I was given a potpourri of small things to do every day while into this like getting the drawings, route cards, material and tooling ready for the upcoming job. I also had to co-ordinate with the crane operators and helpers to unload jobs that got completed on machines. Besides this, I also had plan machines for any jobs that came up at random as a deviation from the normal production plan. The supervisor was a young guy and was supportive.

Did I enjoy it in full? I would be lying if I said yes. For me, it was like a career shock when I got into all of this together, all of a sudden. Coping up with night shifts, dealing with reticent labour, getting used to the noise, heat and smell of a shop floor and adapting to a new kind of learning and that was learning on the run.  But I think, the ability to persist was both my strength and my weak point. It was a weak point, as once I sensed something little good in it , I would continue and try to see if I could find more good things in that space and remain. But as in the case of all situations, in the middle of this struggle, there were a few things that I loved. Production technology was my passion and so the very fact that I was in the midst of a huge variety of machines overwhelmed me in a positive manner. I loved the pair of heavy industrial boots that I wore and it was beautiful to see it when I non-chalantly stepped over the huge bluish silver metal chips mixed with coolant. I wished at that time, that I should have had one of those yellow industrial helmets with the company's logo on it, but I knew I would have to wait for a while for it. Up above, on the truss roof structure, it was great to see flocks of pigeons and to listen to their cooing and grunting once a while. Some of them even took a ride on the carriage of huge machines when it moved as part of a machining process. It was fun to watch. The smell of the golden shower tree, just outside the machine shop was different, sometimes superb and sometimes too acute for the nasal faculties.

In order to get the tools for the several lathes ready, I had to very often explore the insides of a little steel shelf. It had a huge stock of High Speed Steel (HSS) tools lying haphazardly inside. The insides were pretty unkempt too. Many of the tools could not be used and one had to be extremely careful so as to get back without getting the hands cut. After a few encounters, I decided to do something about it. The second night shift stint everyday as I noticed never happened in full. Beyond 9.30 pm, the whole administration office aisle turned into a mortuary. The workmen would be snoring to glory in the air-conditioned area, but me and my supervisor, were expected to be awake as guardians of the work ethics. So I thought that the best time to do this would be beyond 9.30 pm. And so one night, I set to work and took out the entire contents from the shelf. Some workers, who were getting to sleep a shade late, saw me and passed some jeering remarks. “The new fellow is trying to discover something in the middle of the night?” shouted one to the other as they went by. I hung on. I segregated the good pieces from the bad ones and arranged them inside with neat tags. The bad ones I kept aside for the supervisor’s scan. Besides this, I also spotted a bunch of costly ceramic inserts (modular cutting tools) that were to stored at another proper place and consumed. My young supervisor appreciated me for what I did but beyond that it just went unnoticed, not that I was looking for further kudos, but then, I wanted this new system to happen. 

I moved out of that shop in six months as part of our rotational training and when I checked back a few months after I had left, the shelf had attained its old state again. It pained, when I saw the shelf again. When I look back now after 25 years at work, I have come across many such haphazard and improper entities at work and I have rolled up my sleeve to clean up real dirt, or to take issues out of the dark corners, talk it out and clear the road for the team or even overhaul long pending jobs as part of special task forces. These actions only created more animosity amongst people around me and what stood out was that it never garnered real top management support. 

But still, even today, my mental faculties never curtail my tongue and my hand to address issues and to clean up the dirt. When I leave the place, like a writing on the seashore, it get’s washed away. Who will appreciate a garbage collector? Very rarely do people do that. The world mostly sides with limelight and shining work. Every morning, I hear the garbage man yell out his frustrations on people dropping waste on the road and the footpaths. But I don’t think anyone takes him seriously. The same state continues. It’s the same that I have seen in organizations, common social gathering places or even with my roommates.

But then, will I stop? Never!!! Traits will remain.

THE DANCE OF THE EVENING SUN

These were shot from a moving vehicle on the OMR Road in Chennai, between Siruseri and Sholinganallur. Again, I used the same 2.0 MP camera of the antique Nokia E63 mobile.

The sun has several beautiful faces.

THE DRY AND BARREN ART OF SUMMER

All these were shot from a moving train. Nature looks beautiful when dry and barren too. That's it's specialty. Again,

I used the 2.0 MP camera of the antique Nokia E63 mobile.