To be or not to be, that indeed is the question.

Everyday we face a lot of questions. Whether to wake up now or later, whether to have breakfast or not etc These are more trivial and more pertained to the individual. Then come the questions at a social level. Whether to drop your mother at her work or not, to overtake the car in front or not, whether to overshoot a signal or not. How do we decide the answers to these questions?

While we are on the bed, we enjoy the comfort of the mattress and take the route of procrastination. The question of breakfast, even though it depends on whether we got up early enough or not, is decided by the time factor. Then the same applies to dropping our dear ones. Ultimately time seems to be the devil that presses us on the roads. We try to compensate by trying to beat the traffic, overshoot signals and putting all around us in danger. The funny thing is it all starts with an impulsive decision to simply sleep longer.

Once I said to myself I am reaching my workplace an hour early come what may. I did and the difference was striking. I found myself keeping calm and travelling the same route in the same time. This time, I kept my cool to let those in a hurry ahead on the road, wait for all the signals as required before the stop line and still spend the same travel time. What was so different this time?

The mere thought that we are in the comfort zone lets us be gracious, courteous and at the same time punctual. I also found myself calm in handling those questions pertaining to possible chores to be done on the way. So if this zone is so good, why can't we maintain things in the comfort zone? The problem I think is once we are in that comfort zone we soon start to get laid back in our approach. We push the limits of the comfort zone unintentionally for the worse and ultimately get back to that place where we blame time, time and again.

So flitting in and out of the zone - how does that work? Well, I used to work in a school. My timings are as fixed as they can be. I have observed myself that whenever I need to do something extra in the morning before school begins - could be something as simple as bringing few papers from the store cupboard - I consciously plan to leave early and even though I may not leave by the exact required time, I still fall in the comfort zone. The thing is this work has to be something absolutely urgent for the day and you really care about that being done. So you have to do something that you usually don't do,

So how often do these days occur? Again for me, these are days after long vacations where I need to be early to pull the covers off the shelves and fold them away neatly. These are more forced upon rather than self-motivated. so the right question would be "How often do you want these days to occur?" Even though the answer "Everyday" may escape our mouth, the difficulty behind that is not seen.

I mentioned that we tend to push at our comfort zone with regard to our travel plans. I think the pushing of our comfort zone is the key, but at a more broader perspective - the work we do at home or anywhere else (even travel is part of this work). We need to constantly think and do what is that one extra thing we can do to make whatever we did or are doing better. Working out of your comfort zone is an often used phrase. I've found that whenever I do that keeping in mind the capabilities I have and not worrying about the end result, the job seems to go on well enough. To be or not to be working out of your comfort zone - that is the question you need to answer for yourself!

Montessori and Me - Part II: The Montessori Course

Disclaimer: I would like to clarify that by Montessori, I mean the philosophy that Dr. Maria Montessori, an Italian doctor, put forth for helping the young minds of the world live in this World. I use the word live here because after all, quoting Dr. Montessori, education is a way of life.

The above disclaimer shall be repeated keeping in mind, new readers who might chance through this blog :). So plow straight ahead the next time :).

I had preliminary talks regarding the fellowship around December 2012 and was advised to get started with the books on Montessori which are published by Kalakshetra Foundation. I started with “The Child in the Family” and later “Education for the New World” before moving on to the heavy ones - “The Absorbent Mind” and “The Secret of Childhood”. Frankly, at the beginning, I was too skeptical if I'll get through even a single book. I somehow hadn't read much of non fiction books by then and I used to find it difficult to complete them. But with these books, I hung on to them from day one. My reading was protracted as it was confined to train journeys (I still had to work you know). So I found myself flipping back interestedly every time I restarted. I figured that I could relate to many of the thoughts and examples mentioned in the books in my own life. I found myself nodding along at many a point. The more I read, the more I was convinced of doing the course and the fellowship.

The books talked about the need for the child in a family should be treated as an individual working at his own self development. They spoke about the amazing powers that children have at an young age which helps them to adapt to this World into which they are thrust upon. They also dwell on the Sensitive Periods that children have, which when harnessed methodically, can enhance the child's development manifold. But all these together drove down the truth that children learn by themselves. All adults can do is help them in the process by providing a conducive environment. The child is very similar to a seed which when given the appropriate conditions at the appropriate time and in appropriate amounts can grow into a fully blossoming tree.

The fellows had an orientation in June 2013 through book reading sessions and also certain preparations needed for us to work with children of the 3-6 year age group. The preparations predominantly focused on how we need to be humble and let the children always have the spotlight in the environment. The mantra was to always “Follow the child”. We also had sessions that helped us to be conscious of our own movements which will be always watched by the ever absorbent children. We brushed up our language skills and also were given tips on prioritizing which helped us later during the actual course.

All geared up for the Mumbai leg, three of us fellows began the actual course there. The first few days of the course was spent on the aspects of children that I spoke about earlier and how children change physically and emotionally as they grow up. We also had lectures on the human needs and tendencies that drive and help the children in their process of self development. Then more particularly, we understood the characteristics exhibited by the children of the three to six year age group. Once this foundation was set, we proceeded towards how the environment needs to be prepared for the children to develop. The usual materials that form the part of this environment were broadly classified as Exercises of Practical Life, Sensorial and Culture. Culture included Language, Math, Botany, History etc. The major part of the course was covering these materials on why they are used, how they were designed, how they are to be shown to children, the major aims of them and when we should show them to the children. The reinforcement of the earlier theory can be seen in the designing of these materials and this can be felt only by our practice with them repeatedly.

During the course, I slowly realised how things that I liked to do came in handy. I had to juggle between travel, cooking, running to schools, attending lectures, running a marathon, reading, loads and loads of writing, illustrating, material making, painting and some football as well. I used to be an active participant in the Craft classes in school – ever enthusiastic to paint or stitch. These were called for during illustrating or material making. Running was a wonderful time to listen to your body and gave me the calmness that was needed to live in the moment. This helped me greatly to think and consciously act. My tryst with ink pens was re-ignited through the need to write my albums worth a 1000 pages. My constant obsession to plan or organise helped me manage my time and energy during the course. The ever constant craving to live away from parents on my own made me cook as well!

It was towards the end of the course that we had to write the essay on Indirect Preparation. But I had seen it coming all along that like I predicted there wasn't any lecture on that. This was the essence of Montessori according to me. The cherished experiences in life at one point will come back in your life at the hour of need later. These past experiences, if they were ones that were underwent willingly and with concentration, serves you as a boon. You seem to do things that you never considered you will do, but seem to be always prepared to do it. It was a coming together of several seemingly unrelated things. The Montessori environment for the children is based on this very essence. When the children are probably in the environment you may or may not see the changes happening, but when they do blossom out, it seems a miracle.

Our trainer always used to say, the Montessori course is just the First Period – an introduction, to understand Montessori. The Second Period – period of association, is much much longer. The Third Period is the one of mastery. I have just stepped into the second period...

Montessori and Me - Part I: How it all Started..

Disclaimer: I would like to clarify that by Montessori, I mean the philosophy that Dr. Maria Montessori, an Italian doctor, put forth for helping the young minds of the world live in this World. I use the word live here because after all, quoting Dr. Montessori, education is a way of life.

The above disclaimer shall be repeated (hoping against hope that this will be a first of many posts) keeping in mind, new readers who might chance through this blog :). So plow straight ahead the next time ;).

I have been repeating myself over the past year and half as to what I am doing with my life, so I plan to dedicate this first post to try and explain myself and how my tryst with Montessori began.

It was my second year in college when I was all enthused and very eager to attend my first lectures on Electronics and Communication Engineering (ECE) at the fabled National Institute of Technology, Tiruchirappalli. I hung on to every word (that I could make sense of) the first  few weeks. But soon I found my interest slipping away. One of the things I am proud (not all times though) of inheriting from my parents is I think too much. So with one such retrospection, I wondered how I could not like the lectures I so wanted to be in (getting into ECE there is another story).

The cross examining of myself led to the fact that my seed of interest was probably not brought up in a conducive manner. I have to admit. I was not one to read books on my own to learn something new. Maybe, I never cultivated the habit or maybe I didn't realise I had to. So school passed, thanks to all the wonderful teachers I had at Bhaktavatsalam Vidyashram and the last two years at DAV, Mogappair (not all at DAV). But now, I was all at sea in college. The lectures seemed droning, barring one or two (there were more in the later years, but it was too little too late). I was barely clinging on to my interest. It was hard to self-learn when the interest passes away. But somehow, I scraped through the year (and the later ones as well for that matter).

The other line of thought focused on the lecturers. They hardly seemed to care about what they were lecturing on. They had certain things to say and they said that, but not with any kind of passion or the will to pass on some knowledge. (More on this can be found here at my earlier post.) I started to think how difficult it would be to actually say what you knew in a manner that was liked by the rest.

Opportunity presented itself in the form of C++ (Oh! I love C++ from school days) classes for juniors through a club in college. I tried my hand, though with only few juniors to listen. I thought it went ok. (it was only for 3-4 days though as we had a very low response towards the end)

The other opportunity was through SPIRIT-ED which was more of a challenge. Handling 30 enthusiastic 6th to 9th graders once or twice a week to pass on knowledge about computers in about 45 minutes, was a lot about planning and managing time. Again the children seemed to respond well (which was more due to the fact that it was about computers and not because of me).

The experiences felt good for me and so the idea of a teacher got stuck. But three years of scraping through meant I hardly knew about ECE. Predictably my GATE results fell flat. (Also, thanks to my desires for voluntary work in innumerable situations). One thing was sure. I should not be a lecturer in ECE department in any college, if anyone else should not suffer what I did. The idea temporarily shelved I joined Athenahealth.

Then, I looked for more such opportunities once I started working. Then MAD (Make A Difference) and Bhumi happened. I took up teaching English rather than Math (which is always my favourite) as I believed my favouritism to Math was in-born, thanks to my parents -both working in banks. I always was naturally attracted to numbers and geometry and I never can recall how I learned them or imbibed the interest in them. But English was different. I had to struggle to improve my vocabulary, my speech and general conversation. Having fairly overcome this, thanks to innumerable opportunities at Bhaktavatsalam Vidyashram and NIT Trichy, I could understand some of the difficulties, if not all, that young minds faced with regard to learning English.

I was impressed with the curriculum and training at offer at the NGOs and how they were supposed to help the children initially. I was a regular, saturday 10 am to 12 noon teacher at centers in Chennai for the first two years. I was fairly able to execute my lesson plans during the first two years and again the children seemed to reflect the effort - a proud moment then being one of my class children winning a spelling bee contest across all centers we were handling. At the same event the first seeds of doubt were sowed with regard to the needless competition we seemed to have created. Some tears were being spilt while I was proudly looking at my child.

The third year at a center, I took up friday evening classes, thanks to some volunteer shortage. Man, that was challenging. Children who were knackered after school had to be taught English and our lesson plans were to be executed. First two weeks I remember closing classes at 7 40 pm (scheduled being 7 pm) simply because they had come late. I knew soon, it wasn't working. I had to re-invent myself to keep their interests and needs in mind and in class. I found Mosquito bands that were a need and converted them as an opportunity to get them to class early. But children showed me even better. I used to limit the bands to five to reward early birds. But halfway through the class, they naturally began to share. I was amazed. Meawhile, I started to find out each of their interests and tried to work the class around them, trying to give individual attention and group attention at the same time. It worked to some extent. More importantly, I finally seemed to have caught their attention. They actually looked forward to my class. But I felt that was still a work in progress. That year end I just made sure we did not have any competition but just a workshop from which all who attended (budget constraints meant we had to choose only a few per class) benefited.

A long time ago, a friend of mine had mentioned in passing about the Montessori philosophy in a CRY volunteer meeting. On further questioning him then, all I came to know was that it was a philosophy that avoided competition and arouse the interest of the children naturally. The organisation which he was working with then threw open a fellowship in December 2011. I saw it the first time and was interested on the outset and my eyes lit up when it mentioned a year is to be spent on Montessori training, but failed to grab the opportunity then. My third year at the NGO (2012-13) turned out to be the last nail that spurred me onto apply for it in December 2012- January 2013. And that is how it all started...

Those Tendulkaresque Moments...

2003. In two days' time I had my tenth Social Science exam. I was easily among the toppers in the 150 odd batch of students in the subject and was expected to be in the 90s atleast. But there was this minor thing on March 1st, the epic India v Pakistan match at the World Cup. A stiff target of 270 odd. My dad who had actually taken off a week or two I think to coincide with my study holidays didn't even have the heart to stop me! Both us being cricketers, atleast at a local club level, enjoyed THAT scintillating six over point and we both knew that that signalled an end of day's study for me! I, unsurprisingly to me, ended up with an 85 but Tendulkar got the 97 for me ;).

Same year. Same WC. March 23rd 2003. The final. Tenth board exams over. Time out! Everyone of my cousins had gathered at my house for the day. The pasting we got all over Johannesberg not withstanding, we still wanted to see India fight. We geared up for the chase and the first over began. That not-so-convincing pull for four. Hope. Next ball the caught and bowled. Shattered!

1998. Midnight. Damn power cuts. Sharjah. Missed the 143 during the sand storms. Sat down the next day for some glorious batting on his 25th birthday! The cup was ours. Period.

1999. Day 2. At chepauk for the India v Pakistan test. 3 balls played. Caught at point trying to play Saqlain with the spin. Disappointed. Missed the second innings marathon 136. The tears. The shame.

2001. Again at chepauk. Day 3. India vs Australia. Perfect day. The Dravid six of Gillespie over long off over the MCC stand right after tea and the Tendulkar six of Miller over D stand vividly in my memory!

Finally 2013. February. Last test at Chennai. At chepauk. Went there only for three hours of play. The perfect three hours. I enter and soon we were two down. Cometh the man. Three balls - three exquisite fours. Worth every second I spent getting fried in the chennai sun. The next day couldn't go. He couldn't make the 100 as well.

Now though I have loads and loads to write and study for my Montessori diploma, I take these few minutes to remember that one man who I grew up watching. I may not get to bid him farewell even though am in Mumbai (thanks to everyone who gets those complementary tickets), but here's to that one wonderful ray of hope even in the deepest of darkness through twenty odd years of Indian cricket. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

P.S: This blog was inspired by a Sidin Vadukut's tweet!

A Redonkulous Day

Mumbai. The previous times I had been here, my ventures out with my cousins mostly have been in private vehicles and not much of public transport. Now that I am here for a year on my own, public transport had to play an important role. Being from Chennai, I have an aversion for autos! I hardly used to use them there (save that one month in Feb 2010 which led to this post). Naturally, here too I avoid them in spite of the meters. But then there was this one day...

The day began at a nominal 6:30 am. The morning rush to get ready with some ad hoc cooking meant I left only by 8 10 am. I had to be in a Santacruz school by 9 am and I stay at Charkop, Kandivali. Had to take an auto to the station if I had any sense. Took one. Reached station by 8 25. Paid around 50. I had the necessary money though I thought I'll be short.

The station is were I had an absolute brain fade to catch a fast train rather than a slow which would take me direct to Santacruz. My reason being, already it was late, I would get something from Andheri. The plan went alright till Jogeshwari, but just past, the train was shifted to the fast line and was halted at a signal. A slow train went past. Then my train ambled to the station. Clock read 8 45. I fought my way out. Ran to the slow train platform to find the train that just came in leave. Screwed! I ran to get an auto just fed up!

The exit I took led me to a one way that went opposite to santacruz side. Wretched luck. I had only 50+ in my pocket (after finding a few hidden notes later and scrambling all coins) and I calculated that if he went round about I'm gonna be short. I ran towards SV road and managed to get an auto. With my eyes pleading with the meter, I reached my school by 9 15 @52 bucks. My directress was chill. Saved!

12 15 I leave. With only 5 bucks going to Santacruz station with no ATMs on the way was pointless. So caught an auto to Bandra, telling autowala that I need to go to an ATM if he is to be paid. He took me to the first ATM on the link road. Just as I was getting down, he braked hard and I banged my knee on the edge. I thought it was alright until I reached the ATM. Inside, as I typed to get my money, I felt a shooting pain on my knee. I touch and feel drops of blood on my off-white pyjama. The ATM on cue beeps saying no 500s only in 1000s. Without thinking I typed a 1000 and got it. The moment I stepped out I realised no autowala is going to give me a change for 1000. Damned!

So I ask him to stop at a chemist, so that I can get something for my knee and get change. The wonderful people there said no change but offered their band-aids for credit! Stunned! I haven't even seen them before. I gave them the 5 bucks I had and got two. But still no change for my 1000. I suggested to the autowala to go to a super market. He had a better idea or so I thought - petrol pump.

So we went to the Bharat Petroleum outlet on link road close to Bandra. Auto had to stop opposite side. I slowly cross the road and ask the first cashier. He says NO. Next cashier said ask someone inside. Then I go further in where a cashier is counting the collections and ask him. He said NO on the face. Flabbergasted!

I literally begged him and told him my auto was waiting and am coming straight from an ATM. He thought hard before giving me ten 100s. I thanked him and got onto the auto. Autowala then explained that petrol pump people have been conned to give change for fake notes, so the hesitation. I got to Bandra without any further hitches reached my institute. Relieved!

An environment day special!

It was the month of December. The Chennai autumn was unusually chilly and I needed some more warmth. Warmth in my mind and not the physical warmth. A satisfaction of taking care of something. Something of my own. Something that depends on me, that lives with me but cannot live without me. The sense of responsibility. The sense of a routine.

That's when I met Pari. She lived in a packet hanging onto dear life. She was budding and young, ready to sprout into a matured and beautiful adult. It was friendship at first sight. I decided it has to be her. I got her a new home. A bigger home. With all the support that she needed. I carried her away from her foster home and adopted her to be my own.

She promised a lot to me as well. The friend who listened to me in all adversity, silently and patiently. Swaying away from side to side understanding my worries and concerns. The mentor who showed me the patience required to make every budding idea into fruitful results. The tutor who taught me that in every branch lost in life is a firewood gained to kindle new thoughts. The teacher who instilled in me the value, every breath of air lived to help someone else adds more life to oneself. The big sister who provided me the shade required when scorched by the heat of this world. The mother who took care of me, fed me and never asked me a why or a what.

All this for some water in exchange everyday. She was the best. The spring was impending. She was blooming and bursting. There could be nothing that goes wrong. Or so I thought.

Then they came. The swarming worms who just cannot stand looking at somoeone who gives something to them. They wanted more. More and more. Pari, was willing to give. She gave and gave. Gave and gave. But one cannot keep giving forever. She had to take back something or die. Sadly, the worms never understood this, nor could she tell them. Her demise was a great blow to me. But even in her death, Pari just told me "Life is short dear. Live it to the fullest, the way you can".

A Story to Tell (continued)...

He was climbing and climbing. Non-stop. Relentless. Inch by inch. Foot by foot. The summit was in sight. With that final spurt of energy, he pushed himself to the top. There he stood, bathed in happiness of reaching the peak. The glow within him seemed to have oozed out. He then realised that the sun was just coming out on the east. He turned east to witness that red ball bounce out of the horizon, like it does every other day. The glory and splendour of this 2-D circle was simply marvellous at this early hour. He was simply fortunate to be there.

Meanwhile, behind him, there fell a gloom. While he took in the morning rays on his body, there were clouds gathering thick and fast behind him. He turned around to see the gathering mists of water ready to collide with each other and spill out their content on him. It was a sight to behold too. Who doesn't love to get drenched in a rain? Especially after all the climbing and hiking!

He was confused, though. On one side, there was this beautiful sun with all its energy ready to shower him with Vitamin-D. On the other side, there was respite from the all sweat and grime gathered in the wee hours of the morning. He was confused which one he wanted. The glory of the morning or the gloom of the rewarding rain. He decided he'll close his eyes and decide.

It was then, that he wished, how nice it would be to ask someone to choose for him! While his mind cast around finding who that someone could be, his eyes simply created the answer for him. He opened his eyes and saw her. She was draped in green matching the wonderful background, with those eyes, buzzing like honey bees, that could pull him in like an iron to a magnet. She was smiling and she radiated energy like the sun to him. She was welling up in the eyes, at the same time, ready to throw herself on his shoulders and drench him completely. He was immobile. Stunned. Thrilled. She was walking. Slowly. Towards him. Closer and closer. Closer and closer. He could hear her footsteps now.

Dhoom! Dhoom! Dhoom! Did the rain start? Are the thunders striking? She was very near him. He could see the flutter of those eyelashes. DHOOM! DHOOM! DHOOM! The thunder was almost upon him. He realised there were pellets of water hitting him. She was barely a foot away from him, but somehow not drenched by the rain. And with one final DHOOOM he heard his brother calling out "What the hell are you doing in the bathroom for so long?".

He opened his eyes, turned off the shower and stepped out into reality.

P.S: I am back :D