What do you use your Facebook for?

Facebook is an unequivocally annoying entry on the "kids these days" list. I hear it everywhere I go and the funniest part is that although the discussion is always about somebody's adolescent kid wanting an android, I feel guilty when they start talking about it. Facebook (or the Internet) is not as evil as some Indian aunties may want to believe. But it is true that the insidious effects of social networking have already made it into research papers in psychology journals.

I  would read these papers and articles and sometimes wonder, "Man! Why didn't they call me as a subject for one of these studies?". For once upon a time, I was also bitten by the Facebook envy bug. I wasn't going through a particularly sorted/organized/conventionally happy phase in my life. So when I saw others' lives just "working out" for them, I used to feel extremely ungrateful. And I choose that word with a lot of thought because the basic feeling that drives envy is, in my humble opinion, a lack of gratitude. Even in moments of crisis, if you just take a few minutes and think about what you have, and are grateful for, the situation seems less stressful. 

When being on Facebook started making me unhappy, my first reflex was to blame all the happy people on my timeline for their happiness (and it made my situation worse). Then I did what so many others do. I deactivated my account. That did not help because it was hard to stay in touch with people I had met during my travels. So I came back and decided to filter my friend list. That helped a lot. I was down to about 200 something friends from some 700+  I had before. I chose to delete people with whom I was sure I was never going to stay in touch on a personal level. People you meet TAing or RAing during your PhD, extended social circles focused on just one activity that you no longer are a part of, friends' friends, people who read your blog but who have never actually met you -- basically people, who, I was sure won't really miss me or get hurt. 

Then I took a good  look at what was it that was actually wrong with my life. My envy was a mirror of my own mind. And covering the mirror is not the solution. I tried to fix those issues to the best of my ability at that time. One of the tools I used was meditation. I shall be eternally grateful to the guided meditations made available by Audio Dharma. This website has helped me cope with some of the hardest transitions and times in my life. And I realized that being grateful is important to feeling hopeful or happy; and there is always something to be grateful for. Just that one practice of being actively grateful helped me reduce my habit of comparing my life with that of others.

When I realized how much stress I went through just passively looking at others' pictures and posts, I decided for myself that my FB profile is going to be something that would never lead to such comparison or stress among people on my list. It was hard to come up with rules (and it is still work in progress), that satisfy this condition. But nonetheless I came up with a few. 

1. I post things that are not too personal but inspire me (and hopefully would also inspire others) such as pictures, quotes, good music, art blogs and comics.

2. I post links to videos, newspaper articles that would help me step out of my own life and look at the big picture. 

3. I don't express my own  political views (unless something really outrageous happens) on my timeline. And I try not to read these kind of posts by others, or interact with people who regularly post this kind of content.

It has been more than a year now that I have applied these rules. And when I go through my timeline, I feel happy about my choice. It has actually helped me detach from both the happy and sad parts or my everyday life. Going through my timeline is also a source of strength now because it always takes me back to things that I enjoy reading, watching and listening to. It is like a giant wall full of inspiring stuff. A little bit like Pinterest, but more interactive. 

So, I think I use my Facebook to inspire myself. What do you use it for? :)

  

The Lunch Box

Happened to watch this movie the other day.
The story emerges out of an implausible delivery mistake from a Mumbai dabbawala.  Ila's lunch box, which she prepares with a lot of effort and love for her husband, gets delivered to some Mr. Fernandes (Irrfan Khan). When she realizes that her husband is getting the wrong lunch box, she leaves a note for Mr. Fernandes, thanking him for showing so much appreciation (which she quantifies by the fact that the lunch box comes back empty every single day). Ila is trapped in a loveless marriage and Mr. Fernandes lives alone (and is sometimes lonely). Over time, their lunch box notes turn into friendship and they both start seeking strength in this every day exchange of letters.

Although the story is quite simple and at times seems rather slow, what sets this movie apart is the acting that fills the silences in the plot. Both Nimrat Kaur and Irrfan Khan display their remarkable talents of expressing what they want to convey without saying it. The movie also includes voice acting by Bharati Achrekar, who plays the role of Ila's neighbor, Mrs. Deshpande. The director takes his time with the cameras in a typical Mumbai government office, and slows you down by filling the frames with dusty files. Nawazuddin Siddiqui is delightfully annoying as Mr. Fernandes's  pesky assistant. All the fun is in the details and the execution.

I am glad I got to watch it before it left the cinemas. So if anyone is wondering whether they should watch it, well, do it right away!

Happy Birthday PurpleMoon!

This blog turns seven today.
Happy Birthday PurpleMoon.
I hope you have a colorful, exciting new year ahead. :)

Reading my grandfather's books

My grandfather passed away last week. It brought to an end, one of the most fascinating stories that I have had the privilege to be a part of. Growing up around him was not always easy. But as I go through all the memories I have of him, I realize that he has been an inspiration all along.

Aai and I were cleaning his room the other day. But it was really difficult to focus because we used to get lost in his books and his handwritten notes. He used to rise early every morning to read. Then he would write down his ruminations on bits and pieces of paper, usually on the back of  fliers and receipts (to save paper). Then he would staple all the relevant writing together. It is fascinating to read all his random notes. He would jump from religion to atheism; then connecting both at the end with a verse from the Geeta.

Going through his books has always been a treasure hunt. He never left any margin blank. His books are full of notes and references. So if you start with Kathopanishada and follow his references as directions, you'd end up reading Dnyaneshwari. And he makes it very easy for the reader. Usually, every reference carries a page number and a verse number. I have been given the task of talking about him on the last day of mourning. His books have all the footprints I need to write that story. All I have to do is follow his directions.

Life is not always fair or sweet. It would be boring if it were always good. A certain amount of struggle is necessary for happiness. Just the way a certain amount of doubt is essential for faith. There is always that one leap of faith that makes all the difference. I have been fortunate enough to witness two generations before me take such leaps. They have always held a special place in my heart. I owe a lot of what I know and how I think to my grandfather.

Rest in peace. You will be missed dearly.
And I will try my best to follow you through your handwritten footsteps. :)

The Happiness Hypothesis

I just finished reading 'The Happiness Hypothesis' by Jonathan Haidt. Jonathan Haidt is a professor at New York University Stern School of Business. His field of specialization is positive psychology. This branch of psychology is a recent development in this area. For almost sixty years, psychologists developed therapy and medicine to treat various maladies of the human mind. But all their work was always focused on what is going wrong with the human mind. Recently, a lot of focus and research has been dedicated towards gaining insight into the positive aspects of the human mind, happiness being one of them.

We are always inspired by heroes. By stories of triumph over adversity. We are inspired by people who walk their own path. Most of our religious beliefs emerge from stories of single messiahs who chose to lead people on a different path. Haidt takes inspiration from ancient wisdom to make a point. He begins his book by borrowing a metaphor from Plato. Plato describes the mind as a wild elephant controlled by its trainer. Haidt uses this same metaphor to describe our unconscious mind (elephant) and conscious mind (trainer). Often the disharmony inside our mind is caused because the elephant does not agree with the trainer. When the elephant and trainer are in harmony, happiness comes naturally.

The world is becoming full of rich and unhappy people. But this is not a product of time. The author of the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes, a king in Jerusalem expresses sadness after he tries to get all kinds of pleasures under the Sun. He expresses it as "chasing after the wind". Happiness doesn't really reside on the other side of seeking success, planning success and achieving success. It is only truly found in going towards success. The pleasure of achieving goals can be remarkably fleeting. That is why it is also important to know and choose the things that make you happy. Then he quotes Shakespeare,
"Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing"

The part I enjoyed reading the most was Haidt's take on 'absolute freedom'. Watching people from different cultures interact in the 'melting pot' of university lives, I have often wondered about the different ways in which absolute freedom has the ability to tie you down. It is interesting to know that absolute moral freedom, which is devoid of social ties and obligations, actually leaves people feeling lonelier and more depressed. Our attachments and obligations to our spouses, our families and our societies actually make our lives happier. The lack of these kind of obligations even has a word. It is called 'anomie'.

Another interesting part in this book was how 'being in the zone' makes you happy. Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi, another famous positive psychology researcher, through his studies, proved that 'being completely immersed' in a task makes people happy. It makes us so happy that it is rated about chocolate and sex. It reminded me of the ancient Hindu concept of being 'one' with what you do.

Although all of this is interesting, it is also true that people are actually born with happy genes. Genetics influences our disposition far more than we realize. Happy people, according to Haidt are also the winners of this cortical lottery of good genetics. So people battling with depression need something more than an attitude transplant.

A box of letters

Recently, my mom was appointed to be the half hostess of a "family chat show", organized for her cousin's 75th birthday. She was supposed to interview him on his life, while a representative from his wife's family did the same for her. Taking her role as a hostess very seriously, my mom skipped work on Saturday and "studied" for the interview. :)

It was during this study that I accidentally stumbled upon an old box of yellowed letters. These letters were written to my grandma by her siblings, who resided all over India and abroad. My aaji handed that box over to my aai before she died (with permission to read its contents, also extended to me).
First, I came across a neatly written essay, dated 7th July 1933. It was about a caged bird, narrating its story. "I have a lot to eat, no fear of predators, but I have no freedom!", it said, written in a beautiful hand. I don't know who it was. Must have been my aaji or one of her siblings.

The letters that followed, were full of pain. My aaji's decision to marry my grandfather was extremely controversial at the time (it would be even now). Her letters to her siblings must have carried a lot of justification because their replies were full of calm counseling. I read those letters and I could slowly put together the reasons behind their life long chemistry. I watched them too late in life. But even then, the distribution of affection was justified now, that I read these letters.

It is remarkable how this art of writing letters has vanished with my generation. My aaji's eldest brother maintained a letter-log. He made a note of all the letters he had received and replied to, in a dated book, so that none of them were left unanswered. He used to sew together small booklets of coloured paper during his extended stays at various places, and send those booklets as letters. Each letter opens with, "Your letter dated XXX arrived on YYY"". I find that adorable. Who cares about these things anymore? Perhaps these letters read so calm because their writers took their time to ruminate, consult and mull over the situations at hand. Maybe some letters never reached aaji because they were torn between their conception and delivery. Maybe some of them were too harsh, too negative, too disappointed or disappointing?

 It takes so much of "thinking about someone else" to even begin writing a letter. It has something from your side and then it has something for the receiver. You have to take active interest in their lives, their kid's progress at school, their spouse's well being, their marital joy (or the lack of it), their employment and promotions. You have to be polite, use appropriate salutations (especially for the elders in the family), make sure that everyone in their family is mentioned in the letter. It reads like a task that would most definitely help you detach from your own life. And isn't that such a wonderful thing?

In one of those letters, my aaji's elder sister consoled her by quoting a shloka from the Mahabharata.  
God does not protect us like a shepherd would protect his flock, by pushing them forward. He protects us by giving us reason (to act). With that reason (and the subsequent actions), we protect ourselves.
It is a poetic thought for a depressed sister. But over the years, I have come to believe that many of our personal decisions in life are inspired, not by rational thought but by a strong emotion. People are very good at rationalizing their emotions. Sometimes, we rationalize what we really want to do. Sometimes we rationalize not doing what we ought to do, because we do not have enough courage to do it. Sometimes we rationalize our choices because we envy someone who has done exactly the opposite and seems incredibly happy. Sometimes we rationalize because we are tied down by fate. But these rational fences don't work until we are truly at peace with ourselves. And it takes great courage to be at peace. I think towards the end, my grandmother was truly at peace with her choice. These letters just introduced me to her inner turmoil, when she was probably as old as I am now.

Reading these letters made me realize why I wanted to return home. I just woke up on a Saturday morning, already knowing that I wanted to go back to India. I still had eight months in the United States before I could actually return. Nothing changed my mind during that time. I was astonished at this sudden clarity because it had never happened before. But over this past one year, although I have come up with a million reasons why  returning home is the right choice, and, if pitched against someone with an industry job in the US, I would also have a million reasons why this is not the right choice, I know the difference. The difference is that I am at peace here. And any amount of rational thought is ineffective in undoing that peace. 

Talking Science

I have realised how much philosophy there is in speaking in Science. The more I move, the more it is obvious to me that Science also plays the role that a language would play in our lives.

Recently, I started working for a biofuel company with a pilot plant and R&D unit, close to my town. On my first day, I was introduced to two chemists who work on the NREL protocol. I caught up with them in less than half a day. All of us had worked extensively on the same standard method. I started my PhD with that method, and they had worked on it day and night for the past two years. But unlike me, they never worked with the big names in biofuel research. Nor did they get to attend conferences. But their results were spot on, with consistency, throughput and precision that made me feel inferior.

It was a humbling moment for me. You don't really have to travel the world to be good at something. When I meet people who do their jobs with great love and infinite patience; people who never express their opinion on the future of the world that they are silently helping us build; people who figure things out on their own, independently, because they carry out the same experiments in the first shift, and then the second shift, it makes me realise the futility in quantifying achievements.

Stepping out of the somewhat monolithic structure of academia, it is refreshing to be a part of a diverse group of people with diverse and interconnected technical problems (that always need urgent solutions). It is also funny to see how, when the end goal is profit, people miraculously learn to leave their ego aside (at least when they are in trouble).

But more than everything else, I am constantly amazed with this common language that all of us speak, all over the world.