Jay Rege’s Blog

“The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention”. When I read this quote on one of my friend’s Facebook statuses, like the many other statuses, I really couldn’t comprehend this one either. Now I don’t know about you people, but I have pretty normal family and friends. When we talk of ‘gifts’, we actually mean materialistic things that money (or mastercard) can buy; not such philosophical mumbo jumbo. So I really doubt if ‘attention’ as a gift would actually work with the people I know. Say I show up at a party and while I am there, I do nothing but focus my entire undivided attention on the hosts - I am certain that such a gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. It could actually freak my hosts out. Anyway, I don’t want to try it out. To begin with ‘Gifting’ has never been easy for me, and I don’t intend to complicate it any further.

Gifting is a complex ordeal. It involves a whole socio-psycho-financial analysis that I am not so good at. It starts with analyzing the reason for gifting followed by assessing your relationship with the person you buying the gift for. In most cases you have no idea what this person likes, at the same time you don’t think it’s a wise idea to just ask what gift they want. You don’t want to spend a whole lot of money either, yet you want to make a decent enough impression. All these factors add to the complexity of the situation. But while buying gifts is complex enough, faking happiness when you receive a totally useless gift is far more difficult. I guess that’s why as a kid my parents never let me to open gifts the moment I received them. They said it was bad manners to do so and insisted that I should open the gifts only after the party was over and all guests left. They probably knew that I was not good at hiding disappointments and wanted to avoid any sort of embarrassing situations that would have resulted from my unexpectedly ‘honest’ comments on seeing the gift.

But times have changed. Recently, I have often found myself in situations where my friends and family insist that I open the gift right in front of them. Thankfully over time I have matured as well. I have learnt to camouflage my disappointments. Experience tells me that the use of the words “Wow”, “Nice” and “Thank you” in a sentence followed by explicitly mentioning that you always wanted that gift item, works perfectly: “Wow, I always wanted a nice Pen, Thank You.”; “Wow. Nice. A photo frame, we always wanted one. Thank you”; “Nice, wow, I was just about to buy myself a coffee mug. Thank you”. Try it, it works. It has always worked for me except once when I hastily went “Oh, Nice, I always wanted a …..ehhh, hmmmm……. a wine cork opener?, …a can opener?, no, a screw driver?…a swiss knife??…well what is this?” It happened to be a multi-utility vegetable slicer. But that’s life. Every trick fails sometimes.

As a child, I remember, gifts were a lot less fancy than what they are today. In fact they were boring too – as boring as a stainless steel utensil with the gifter’s name and date engraved on the side/bottom of it. But amongst those many boring gifts that I have received, the most common and my most hated gift was a ‘cut-piece’. Some of you younger folks might not know what that is, but back then we had this tradition of gifting not shirts or pants, but rather long stretches of cloth called a ‘shirt-piece’ or a ‘pant-piece’ (collective known as a cut-piece). You then had to go to a tailor and get the shirt or pant stitched.

Now if you are wondering why I hated the cut-piece so much, well here’s how the story goes. Every time I got a ‘shirt-piece’ as a gift my mom would religiously take me to this old tailor to get the shirt stitched. The tailor would patiently take my measurements and ask us to come back after a week to collect the shirt. We never discussed designs or styles with the tailor. That was left to the tailor’s discretion. The only thing that my mom would request the tailor was to return the leftover pieces of cloth. That was her only concern. Unfortunately the honest tailor always obliged. Now these leftover pieces would end up as a bag (the typical cloth ‘thaili’) that would be used for grocery/vegetable shopping. Now can you imagine my embarrassment having to wear a shirt with two large pockets, large colorful button (yup, that was the tailors idea of fashion), a long collar, and a perfectly matching shopping bag to go with it. Back in those days we didn’t even have all these ‘say no to plastic bags’ campaigns or those ‘save the planet’ facebook kind of groups. If we did, I would definitely join all such online groups and flaunt an ‘environmental friendly activist’ kind of image and somehow use it as a cover up for this whole matching shirt-bag debacle. But unfortunately, I just had to live through all the embarrassment – all because of that ‘cut-piece’ gift.

Talking of environmental friendliness, one thing that my family invariably recycles are ‘gifts’. Many gifts that come into the family get recycled (they are re-gifted). Now I actually don’t have a problem with that. I feel it’s a smart thing to do. The only problem I have is that my parents even recycle the wrapping papers. They have a whole stack of saved up wrapping papers, unwrapped from gifts, folded and kept aside for future use. Unfortunately my parents are not very skilled at this art, nor do they care much about it. So often the wrapping paper on every gift they re-gift is usually crumpled, sometimes it’s a little shorter than the gift, and at times it has few leftover pieces of tape from the earlier wrapping. I have often brought these things to their notice, but their standard reply is “Who cares about the wrapping? It’s the gift that matters” leaving me with nothing more to say. Well on second thoughts, it’s a good thing that they don’t use fancy paper to wrap recycled gifts. At least it doesn’t raise expectation of the recipient. A real exotic paper with an old re-gifted piece of crockery set wrapped inside doesn’t make a great combo anyway.

PS1: What’s with this whole ‘return gift’ thing that popped up these days. It is my humble request to all you people that please don’t invent such new gifting practices. Don’t complicate ‘gifting’ any further.

PS2: I still like wedding invites that explicitly mention ‘No Presents’ on it. That’s one request I always oblige to.

In everyone’s life, there comes this defining moment that changes one’s whole outlook towards life. It makes you think, retrospect, ponder, and wonder; you suddenly mature beyond age. This defining moment is thrust upon you unexpectedly, when you are least prepared for it. You are caught off guard, not sure how to react to the situation. And for most of us, this moment is when for the first time in your life some idiotic stranger on the street addresses you as “Uncle” or “Aunty”.

If you happen to live in India, you first experience this being called ‘Uncle/Aunty’ moment sometime in your late 20’s (My sincere sympathies to those who have experienced this tragedy in their early 20’s). You are really lucky or a liar (and mostly the latter) in case you managed to stay away from being addressed as an Uncle/Aunty till you hit 30. But it really doesn’t matter how old you are when you first experience this tragic moment. The effect is equally devastating. And ironically the person addressing you as Uncle/Aunty is generally not a toddler, but some stupid, dumb, overgrown kid in his/her upper teens who does not have any respect for humanity or mankind – going about addressing youngsters like you and me as uncle/aunty.

I remember the time when my wife and I, on a warm and cosy afternoon during our honeymoon, were treading the paths of some hill station in southern India. My wife wanted to visit the local marketplace and so she stopped a school going girl to ask for directions. This kid (must be in her 9th or 10th class) was nice enough to explain us the way to the marketplace. When she was done with her explanation, just to reconfirm I asked “So we take the first left, and then the second right?” Without the slightest hesitation she replied “YES UNCLE”. She was loud, she was clear, and she had no regrets or remorse for what she had just said. But those two words - “Yes Uncle” - had left me speechless, embarrassed, and clueless on how to react. It was as if my whole world had been brought to a screeching halt, and then turned upside down. I was trying my best to remain ‘cool’, but in reality I was an emotional wreck. I looked at my wife, hoping she had not heard those words. But the smile on her face, that was growing wider and wider, told me that she had found one of the most blissful moments of her married life. And then when you think life can’t get any crueller, it just does. With that wide smile my wife looked at that girl and said “Thank You”. I don’t know if the thanking was for helping us with the directions or calling me Uncle. Anyways I was too disoriented to think anything. But what happened next will remain etched in our memories till we die. That girl looked at my wife and as she walked away said “WELCOME AKKA !!” (‘Akka’ means elder sister).

It is surprising how one of your most embarrassing moments in life can be your spouse’s most cherished moment. But then that’s life and you got to deal with it. But every time you think you have learnt to deal with life, some idiot pops up from nowhere and says “Uncle” – and this new idiot is older than the earlier one who called you Uncle. School kids, college kids, and even the door to door salesman now call you uncle. Even the telemarketer on the phone sometimes used that five lettered word to address you. Soon you lose count of the number of times you have been called Uncle – just like you lose count of the number of your white hair that keep lurking on your head.

Some days ago I was at the local market where I bumped into this kid selling lemons who said “Uncle, limbo le lo na, paanch rupaye ka teen”. This time I thought, let me not let the kid get away with calling me Uncle. After all I was his prospective client. So let me show the kid that I am not (yet) uncle material. So before I let him close the deal on the lemons, I asked “Kya re, tere ko kya mein ‘Uncle’ jaise dikhta hoon?”. I was hoping the kid would say something that would be apologetic in nature. Instead he looked at me rather surprised and said “Aap ko pata nahi? Aaj kal ‘Uncle’ fashion mein hain !!”. Now what more could I say? I was sort of stunned by that answer. I just did an “Hmmm…Oh, Ok!”, smiled at the kid and bought not three but six lemons.

The kid’s answer was sure gratifying enough for me to force myself to believe that all those people who have ever called me Uncle (including that school girl whom we had asked directions) were just following the latest fashion trends, and that those Uncle-ing references had got nothing to do with my age, appearance, or demeanour whatsoever. But still, it’s my humble appeal to all you young and old: Just stay away from this fashion at least when talking to me. I have a name, call me by that name. If you don’t know my name, just ask. I will tell you. But please refrain yourself from using that five letter word, at least for the next decade, however fashionable you might think it is.

Last week, on my way back from Pune, when the bus stopped at the rest area on the expressway I was happy to see a McDonalds there. It was a little after eight in the evening, I was hungry, and it had been a long time since I had sunk my teeth in a Mac burger. Now don’t hate me for saying this, but I kind of always liked McDonalds. In the Americas the McDonalds was my occasional getaway for a clean, affordable and a quick hunger quenching experience for under $5. Although not a delicacy, I still enjoyed biting into the big-mac, especially when on a road trip. The Indian version of the McDonalds though not so great, and expensive too, for nostalgic reasons, I decided to dine there.

After I was done with my dining, I asked the restaurant attendant on the whereabouts of the restroom/bathroom. Surprisingly they didn’t have one in their restaurant, but instead he directed me to the one at the other end of the rest area. Now it was dark outside. It was slightly drizzling, so the entire area was mucky. As I headed out waddling my way down that mucky path, at the far end I could see a dimly lit shanty with some hustle bustle around. I assumed that it must be the loo, and continued in that direction. There were no signboards anywhere but as I moved closer, the stench coming from that shanty confirmed that I was headed down the right path. When I finally reached the place, the scene inside was nothing but yuck. It was disgusting.

To begin with, the place was dimly lit; barely enough for one to figure out the architecture of the place. I guess, someone was taking the idea of energy conservation a little too seriously. As I quickly glanced the around, I noticed that one of the urinals had a branch of a tree stuck right in it, Well that wasn’t decoration or a ‘Go Green’ attempt, but rather an indication that the urinal was ‘out of order’ (like they sometimes stick a tree branch in open manholes – that same way). Some of the other urinals were completely broken; they didn’t need those twigs or branches to indicate their non-operational state. The ones that supposedly worked had no flushes. Instead there was a pipe that hung a few feet above that dripped water into them. I never figured out if it was a just a leaking pipe of someone’s idea of an automatic flushing system. I didn’t dare to venture any closer to figure out that mystery. I quickly relieved myself and exited that stink hole.

As I walked out of that place, I realized that what I missed about the American McDonald was not just the burger, but rather the holistic refreshing experience. For that matter not just McDonalds, but most American fast food joints and rest areas come equipped with a fairly clean public toilet system. Having spent about six years in Uncle Sam’s land, and now settled back home in Mumbai, that’s something I really miss in India. A clean restroom with all the necessary accessories is a non existing concept in the Indian public domain. In India if you ever feel the need to ‘go’ while you are on the go, you could be in big trouble. In most places, even finding a public restroom is a rarity. Having found one, being able to use it is an accomplishment in itself.

Well I need not write more about my yucky experiences, but as an end note I would like to cite this notice that was pasted in the toilets of one of the coffee shops in the city. It read “Please Do Not Use the Toilet Paper to Wipe Your Face”. On reading this I looked around, but apparently there was no toilet paper anywhere in there; leaving my mind unnecessary wondering about its disappearance and usage.

To all you parents out there (and to those who intend to be one some day), here is some parenting advice:

Picture this
Scenario 1
Venue: Dining room. Time: 8:00 PM.
- Mom at a dining table - sorting out some bills.
- Her four year old at the table too, playing with dinner (eating some, dropping some)
- Mom goes to kitchen, leaving her bills and cheques on the table.
- Kid gets up from the chair, picks up a pen and draws an apple on mom’s cheque book
- Mom comes back, sees the apple and says “Oh, how cute”. Mom kisses the kid and asks “Did you draw this?” Kid lets out a big smile and a affirmative nod. Mom kisses the kid again and says “Now quickly finish your dinner and I will let you eat a chocolate later”
- Kid gets back to dinner, and mom looks at the apple in admiration

Two weeks later (Scenario 2)
Venue: Same dining room. Time: 8:00 PM.
- Mom again at the dining table - sorting out bills.
- The same four year old is at the table, again playing with dinner (eating some, dropping some)
- Mom goes to kitchen, leaving her bills and cheques on the table.
- Kid gets up from the chair, picks up a pen and this time draws a flower on the cheque book
- Mom comes back, sees the flower and yells “Who asked you to do this? You have started becoming naughtier day by day. Go and finish your dinner” Kid all confused; just stands there staring at mom. Mom shouts again. Kid doesn’t react. Mom gets angrier. Spanks kid. Kid cries. Mom forcibly makes kid sit on the chair and yells “Stop crying and do not get up from there until you finish your dinner”

Now this is what I call good parenting; the key to which lies in the ‘unpredictable behavior’ as a parent

In the above scenario, the kid probably never figures out what went wrong the second time. ‘Why did mom hit me? Last time when I drew the apple, she gave me a chocolate. This time I drew a flower and she hit me. Maybe mom doesn’t like flowers. Maybe she only likes apples. But I can draw a good flower. But I should have drawn an apple’ is what the kid thinks. What the kid doesn’t know is that mom had a bad day at work today, plus the amounts on the bills were higher this time, plus the bills were already a week overdue, plus she had an argument with dad a little while ago, plus the cheque on which the flower was drawn was the last leaf in the cheque book; and hence all the outrage and the spanking. But whatever be the reasons, mom’s actions today will result in making her a good parent.

If you want to be a good parent, be unpredictable. Your kids should never be able to predict your behavior. If they do, then trust me, they will manipulate you left, right, and center. Like it or not, you got to understand and accept the fact that your kids are a lot smarter than you. Now whether you lost your smartness with age, or you never had it in the first place; it doesn’t matter. The bottom line is that you cannot outsmart your kids (they are cunning, opportunistic, and manipulative too). Your only defense against them is the fact that you are a generation older. Hence you have the advantage of being titled as a ‘parent’, and when looked at from a height of just 2.5 ft above ground level, you appear slightly demented and scary as well. But soon your kid will outgrow this inherent advantage that you possess. Then the only weapon that you will be left with will be your ‘unpredictability’. Don’t lose it. Let your kid grow up with the thought that ‘Boy my parents are weird. You never know how they would react to anything’. Only then there are high chances that he or she will turn out to be a good kid.

Finally, spanking your kids is absolutely fine. Let not those parenting magazine and the media make you think otherwise. When your child misbehaves, you may try talking to your kid and see if they listen. But be careful, sometimes the kids answer back and you may trip over their arguments. So it’s best not to waste too much breath, and land up in an embarrassing situation where the kid beats you in an argument. Just hit them. 80% of the parents I know spank their kids. The remaining 20% are liars.

The only time you may run into trouble for spanking your kid is when you have your own parents around. You hit your kid and for some strange reason your parents start behaving as if they are the torch bearers of the ‘Anti Kid Spanking’ movement. If you try reminding them of all the spanking you received as a kid (and as a teen), you will realize that they suddenly suffer from selective amnesia. If not, their explanation would be “That’s because you were a spoilt kid”. But that’s okay. Don’t let their behavior bother you too much. They are just being your ‘parents’; ‘unpredictable’ good parents.

‘Chai-Pani’ – when translated to English means ‘tea and water’. But if you have lived in Mumbai for long, you know exactly what it means. Yes it means ‘bribe’ - especially the petty ones paid to government officials to get things done. We hear about it, we speak about it, we read about it; it’s part of our system and ironically we have accepted it as standard operating procedures. Yet being in a situation where you experience a ‘chai-pani’ moment firsthand, is a feeling quite queer in itself; definitely not a comfortable one for the first timer.

Offering ‘chai-pani’, is not as easy as you think. You don’t just walk up to the officer on duty, put a few 100 rupee notes on his table and say “Here. Take it. I need my job done ASAP”. Just because you are willing to pay, doesn’t make life any easier for you. You still need to follow the rules and procedures. You still need to run from pillar to post, fill out the required forms, wait in queues, and be confronted by rude officials. At some point during this whole running around you even begin to develop this futile hope that maybe you might just be lucky enough to get things done without having to offer any chai or pani whatsoever. But soon you realize that it isn’t your lucky day and parting with your money is inevitable.

Now your greatest fear is how do you make the offer? What if you get arrested during the illegal act? What if, like they show in movies, the officer you are dealing with turns out to be an out right ethical guy who just fumes at the very mention of ‘chai-pani’? What if there is an anti-corruption squad watching your every move, waiting to pounce on you the moment you pull out the cash? It’s a scary thought. But public officers I guess are good mind readers. They understand your anxiety and apprehensions at making a direct offer. Hence after they are done with all the required formalities, in a mellowed tone they put forth their request “Jara humare chai-pani ka bhi dekho saheb”. For the first time you get addressed as ‘saheb’. That’s when you let out a smile, a sigh of relief, and a few hundred bucks and ask “Par kaam ho jayega na?” “100 percent. Aap befikar raho”, comes a prompt assurance.

Now there is ‘chai-pani’ and then there is ‘Settlement’ or ‘Adjustment’. Settlement/adjustment is ‘chai-pani’ given to cover up your mistakes. So making a ‘settlement’ offer is a little more difficult than offering ‘chai-pani’. A few days ago I was caught by a cop for a traffic violation. After checking my driving license and pointing out my mistake (which of course I admitted) the cop said he would give me a traffic violation notice (a ticket). I was fine with that. But then the procedure was a bit skewed. On issuing me the ticket, he said he would withhold my license. Then anytime within the next three days I would have to report at the police station, pay the fine, and collect my license. I tried to argue that I was willing to pay the fine right there, but the cop refused to accept it. Apparently he was not ‘officially’ allowed to accept money, and I was not in the mood to make any ‘unofficial’ contributions to his kitty. But the problem with the whole procedure was that, to collect my license I had to visit a police station close to the place where I had committed the offence – which was unfortunately an hour’s drive from where I live. Which meant, the next day, I had to drive an hour each way just to pay the fine and get my license back. So finally I decided to go in for the ‘settlement’ route.

“Kuch settlement nahi ho sakta hain kya?” was my benign request. My request brought about a complete change in his demeanor, transforming him from a tough cop to a friendly gentleman. For the first time I saw a smile on his face, which was a good enough indication that he too preferred a ‘settlement’. So looking around, and ensuring that nobody was watching us, I pulled out my wallet. But the moment I opened my wallet, I realized that I only had a 500 rupee note in there. That was way too much a price to pay for ‘settlement’ and I didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask for change in such situations. But left without a choice, hesitatingly I put forth my concern. “Saheb, chutta nahi hain” I said as I showed him the lone 500 rupee note I had. But that didn’t bother him at all. He patiently pulled out his wallet, drew four hundred rupee notes and handed them over to me as he pocketed the 500 rupee one. The ‘settlement’ was complete and I drove away from the crime scene.

But the settlement actually doesn’t end there. Your guilt, your conscience, your so called ethics do not let you get off that easily. But then you try to console yourself: the poor cop is anyways overworked and underpaid; toils all day in the hot sultry weather bearing all the noise and the pollution; probably my 100 rupee would be spent towards fulfilling a need that he or his family has been waiting for long. You try to justify your actions with thoughts like these, as you constantly look back in the rear view mirror to ensure that you are not being followed by an anti corruption squad :)