Well, it has been a really long time since I wrote something on my blog. For most of this year, I have also not maintained a journal. What started out as an attempt to save time in what was turning out to be a busy work life as a consultant has now turned into a more principled stand. My journal was always meant as a disciplining device - I started it when I started disciplining my mind back in Class 7 or so. Now, since I do not reflect on my activities at the end of each day, I do not feel the need to change an unproductive phase of my life. My idea was to start living life without crutches, and I do not feel I'm doing a good job of it.

I have often been called arrogant, and I deflected that criticism (both internally and externally) by arguing that arrogance is a refusal to change. I was always a proud individual who would be very sensitive to public criticism, but also someone who would internalise what even the worst of enemies would have to say about me, and then act on it. This made me willing to change, and hence not arrogant. Now that I do not have my journal, I take far more time to internalise and react to things, and hence my resistance to change has increased. Now, in the true sense of the word, I am turning arrogant. For example, earlier if my best friend would say something critical of me, I would think about it while writing my journal. Now, I try to forget it as soon as possible (so it doesn't screw with my happiness), and hence I do not change.

That brings me to the question of motion in life. Motion is a beautiful feeling, a great distraction. It is also a sieve that separates the ephemeral from the persistent. I have found it a massively useful tool to not get stuck on to a certain feeling, emotion or person. If I try to move on in life, I will either forget the thing, or remember it. If I forget - it is a sign that it was not important at all. If I still remember it, that is a call for action. I have seen far too many people - some of my closest friends - ruin their happiness because they get stuck on to something. People change, situations change and life itself changes. Your happiness will only be guaranteed if your mind shows the pace and agility that the world and nature around you will show.

I strongly believe that if you want to be truly happy in your life, you need to detach yourself and be an involved observer in the world (what I now refer to as the 'Vishnu' model of enlightenment). At every step, you have to be conscious of the things happening around you, and your own feelings. At the same time, you need to realise that most things in this world, and most emotions you feel, are temporary. A break-up, for example, is not going to give you the pangs beyond a part of time. I personally emerged strongly from a terrible relationship crisis. Yes, it took me a bout of clinical depression and nearly a year to completely come out, but I did it. Today, I can look back at that time with no bitterness - and I wish I had known back then that it never matters. But well, it is the falling down which taught me how to get up, and for that I am forever grateful.

This is not my first post on arrogance, and will certainly not be the last. Given that arrogance is something that is felt, and responded to differently by different people - accusations of arrogance will continue with most individuals till they die. Very often, arrogance will be a natural accusation for someone who goes on to transform or revolutionalise things - this is because years and decades of indifference make some institutions so cold to internal change that only a heated external force will be able to transform it.

What I have tried to do is to crystallize my thoughts and come up with a definition that is both specific and actionable. In that spirit, I define arrogance as a unwillingness to change. I am all for people with strong opinions, for I believe that it is such people that can get the world around them moving in a particular direction. However, even this revolutionary genius must, in its heart of hearts, be open to its fallibility.

When people call me arrogant (especially in a materialistic sense of the word), a part of me does feel hurt. Primarily because all the struggles that I have been through seem to be ignored when such a judgement is passed. For example, when my espousal and praise of an iPad is construed as materialism, I go back to the days when I would have to take the DTC bus every alternate evening to go to a dingy cyber cafe and start filling my US undergrad applications. Those applications bombed, not because (I believe) I did not materially have the goods, but because of my lack of knowledge and information. Today, the iPad is a ready window to a world of information. Not only does it help me keep track of news all the time (unlike my first few months at McKinsey when I didn't have the time to read papers), but also to be quick in replying to people who reach out to me, to post on Absolute Interview etc. The iPad, hence, is an enabler - as much as it is a materialistic indulgence. Yes, it hurts me when people accuse me of having turned 'elitist' or materialistic. 

However, it is extremely easy to rationalise away this discomfort. That people do not know my entire history, least of all the struggles hidden in my past, will always be true. Not even my best friends know all about how and where I came from. The reverse is also true - I do not know people well enough. Does that mean we do that judge people? No - that would certainly make the world extremely boring and indecisive. I would encourage people to be judgmental and form opinions. The only caveat I would put in is that this judgment based on half information should not be functionally important, and should not be 'arrogant' in my sense of the word - i.e. unwilling to change.

On the flipside, I am enjoying this phase of my life where I'm being 'arrogant' in the conventional sense of the word - spiteful, disdainful, impatient and extremely sarcastic. Firstly, after having spent a couple of years avoiding those traits, I find accepting them extremely refreshing. It is a new and exciting phase of life. Secondly, I find that it has made me more effective in my dealing with people. It enables me to be bold and brash, to call a spade a spade and hence to get to the point quickly. Since I know that my fundamentals are rooted in my introversion and my humble beginnings, I am sure that I don't run the risk of over-doing it. Plus, as long as I am keenly aware of this, I'm sure I won't cross the path of no-return.

Here's a final submission. I feel extremely pained by the egocentricity of people around me. Some of them who turn to our common friends in order to wash dirty linen in public, another set of people who cry and post on facebook about their (self-inflicted) pain and suffering. It is their loss of context that surprises me. I do not complain about the fact that they don't 'care' enough about me - they shouldn't care about me excessively, and for once in life I can say 'it doesn't matter' with my hand on my heart. What bothers me is that they forget that they are irrelevant in the bigger scheme of things, and hence their 'pain and suffering' and 'tears' is only a fraction of an irrelevant thing. In life, they are holding on to maya, which if they hold on to any longer will cause their conscience to be put into slumber, perhaps a phase of self-pity and decay. Instead, they must unshackle themselves and experience rasa, or the manifestations of life, including its joys and sorrows. That will be the path to a happy life, I believe.

Here's an article that has been trending on facebook today. It argues how marriage is a selfless act, and that it is the spouse's happiness that should decide whether one gets married or not:

http://sethadamsmith.com/2013/11/02/marriage-isnt-for-you/

I'm not anywhere close to being an expert on marriages, but here are my two cents on the subject. I have a few points of vehement agreement - for example, that best friends should fall in love.

However, this post is to highlight my points of disagreement with what has been said, and here they are:

• Just logically, the article fails to explain why it is important to keep the other person's happiness as the top-of-mind consideration. It addresses this when it says - "the more you love that person, the more love you receive." This is obviously a self-centered argument. Except for the altruism of making someone happy, why is it important? No answers there.

• Sridevi says in English Vinglish that someone who is not happy in a relationship also cannot make others happy. This is very critical from my perspective. A happy soul can be a powerful beam of hope and joy for lots of people, and hence if there is a source of constant discontent in the person's life, would it not be better to cut it off? Would you rather make 1000 people less happy than make this 1 person happy? Why not be a man/woman of the world?

• People will often say "I did this for you, I did that for you." Now that means this individual is very self-centered. Will a marriage/relationship succeed if one of the parties is such? Why should the other, less self-centered person not break this bondage, free himself/herself up and be a source of joy to people who more deserve it? 

• I fundamentally believe that people who make a list of what all they did for a relationship aren't people worth being around. Plus, if all you did is not good enough, why should one even bother about you? Second, often times it is not what you do, but what you don't do or restrain yourself from doing that proves how much love you have. People who in their childish exuberance do what they think is in the best interest of the relationship are likely to vitiate the atmosphere so much that it is better to exit.

In conclusion, I do agree with the Walmart philosophy that one should return what one doesn't like. Relationships and societal norms are creations of human beings, there is something more fundamental that is out to be achieved by people - something that isn't dependent on these human boundaries. It is what takes you closer to that goal which is important.

Leaving college

If you have ever experienced the numbness of bottling up an overwhelming feeling, you will know what I am talking about. I knew it would hit me hard, and hence I got done with it as swiftly as I could. As I picked up my luggage and made my way from my room in Mukarji East to the small gate behind the Principal's house - a path that we would frequently use while going to grab a bit at the South Indian Cafe - the weight of the moment was overpowering me; but I promised myself not to look back, not to feel weak and never, perhaps, to say that I want to undo that moment.

We were one of the last to leave college that summer, and had said several goodbyes, and often shed a few tears. The moment of our own separation, hence, was pushed into the future. There was, thus, nobody to bid us a goodbye, except for the friendly college dogs. I was probably happier that ways; when I was leaving, the place felt dead, as if it had nothing to give to me. That sense of finality, of completing, was something that made the moment more tolerable.

Deepika Padukone says in Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani that memories are like a pack of sweets - when you open it, you can't have just one. That truly encapsulates the experience I had the previous night, while clearing my residence room. Gifts that had gathered dust in one corner of my room, objects that had a strong naphthalene stench from years of storage in the trunk and kind words that my friends had written for me - they all came back to hit me really strongly. I was moved enough to make one final dash, to go to South Delhi to meet a friend I had had a fallout with. It was the most impulsive decision of my life.

Next day, after watching a movie with my friends, I was all ready to leave. The packing had been done the last night, the clearances obtained and the memories neatly tucked in a cherished corner of my brain. I went to the room earlier occupied by my first year roommate, looked into the empty room and closed my eyes. The cycle of college - freshers coming in, graduates passing out - would go on even after we were gone. It was much like the cycle of birth and death, and that day I got a glimpse of how it would feel to die. It is in these moments of bereavement that one seeks solace, and like Kate Winslet said in Titanic, I promised to never let go - of my friends, these memories and learning.

Then, with the help of Gaurav, I picked up my luggage and went to the waiting taxi. I promised to never look back, never miss college. Because I knew that I had hidden the pain of separation somewhere, and if and when I'll open that part of my heart, there will be no end. I hold on to that moment of time very dearly. Someday in the distant future, in a tranquil moment with my friends (now all old men and women), I will open that capsule, and be overwhelmed. Till then, the show of my life must go on.

P.s. A lot of other things happened that day, of course. I've mentioned only the things I would like to remember when I read this post a decade down the line.

Over the past few weeks, as my knowledge of the deprivation of India's citizens has grown, my faith and belief in education in higher economics has declined. A senior once told me that at a time when the world is growing disillusioned with the 'unrealness' of economics, we as a discipline continue to focus on mathematics and statistics as a major, major component of what we do - and hence drive further into 'unreal' territory. For example, if I were a policy maker, would it help me to be spend days in my armchair and be 100% accurate about my answer, or put two and two together, and provide a broadly correct answer. In consulting, we call it the '80-20' answer - as long as I have discovered 80% of the answer (and arguably the more important components), is it worthwhile to spend effort looking for the other 20%?

My view of the economy has turned more sharply into a 'production and distribution' mechanism. By production, I refer to goods and services that augment human happiness or welfare. I use distribution in a very generic sense. For the economists who seek to change our country, the final agents who act upon our recommendations will be people who are not at all acquainted with economics. I wonder what will be more likely to move them to action - to say that my regression has been corrected for X,Y and Z errors; or to weave the insights together into a compelling story of 'so-what's'.

What has helped me in the past few days is some very elementary notion of how people behave, especially their social behaviour. Concepts such as externalities, public goods, asymmetric information etc have been the concepts I can most often refer to, when reading about India's social issues. To draw insights from the heap of data before me, I have not yet found reason to look at advanced statistics or mathematics. It is logic, and some basic idea of correlations that have been most helpful. For everything else, I can refer to the published knowledge of people who are far more erudite than I can hope to be.

There is a broader theme I would want to answer at some point, but I'll provide a flavour of that here. I find our collective distaste of the 'corporate sector' very jarring. We often paint it as a selfish, ruthless and inhumane world. But here I have learnt skills that my education (in economics, or otherwise) would have never taught me. Here I have learnt the basic idea of economics, to economise! It isn't always necessary for me to kill myself in the relentless pursuit of perfection, to engage in debates that will change neither my life, nor anyone else's; it is here that I have learnt most to value others' time, and my own; it is here that I have learnt to be respectful towards contributions that people in other fields are making - for example, by the simple method of calling them 'experts' (thus acknowledging our own lack of expertise). It is here that I have learnt to come out of the ivory tower, and have learnt humility. When among economists, I am as proud of my training in consulting, as I am about my training in economics among consultants.

The final set of questions I have to answer are - how can I ever hope to be a good economist if I'm not there on the ground (by 'on the ground', I do not mean 'rural surveys' or 'visits'. I mean being part of the people who are generating value in the economy)? how can I hope to change the world if I am cut off from it? How can I hope to lead change if I am distant? How can I change people's lives if I am more into numbers and statistics than into people?

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Disclaimer: This article is written in the spirit of questioning. Since I have not received postgraduate education in economics, I am ill-equipped to comment on its utility. One day, I hope to pursue higher education in economics - however, I do not want to go into it with even the slightest notion that economics is the saving grace of humanity. Only then, I believe, will my education withstand challenges.

Shouting at my hollowness

Sometimes, I read what people have written about me on various social media fora, and I have an urge to write back - either to clarify or to deny, perhaps even to retaliate. This is the amygdala hijack that psychologists talk about. Since somewhere, my emotional core is threatened, I will tend to react immediately, without much thought.

But then I hold myself back. I consult a few friends who are more level-headed. They tell me to hold back, to not write, to not engage in public vilification of others. To damage someone's self esteem is one of the most detrimental things that you can do to them, and though I'm sure I've done it several times, but it is neither correct not encouraged. True love isn't about going on writing thesis on what true love is; it isn't about trying to feel loved by enabling others to act in a particular way. We're humans, we have our pitfalls - we might never know what true love is. All we can do is to be kind, because everyone here is fighting a great battle.

I'm not immune to public opinion - I keep on reading what was written about me. It is an experiment, a Gandhi-esque experiment. To hold back, to not respond; to keep loving, praying and hoping. It is an experiment to not shout back at my own hollowness; to not blame others for my miseries. Nobody can control me, or hurt me, unless I let them; and I hope I'll never blame anybody for hurting me.

I should do whatever it takes for me to be happy; because if I'm not happy, I can't make people around me happy. I would love to be in a world where we are all inter-connected capsules of happiness. I will not shout at my hollowness; but move on, make new bonds, live new lives. Because every new person is going to teach me something, and as the eternal traveler, I must learn.

The Happiest Moments of My Life

Here are the happiest moments of my life that I can recall right now. Of course, I've been far happier over an extended period of time, such as the time spent on the Andrews Lawns with my friends in the first year of College, or the numerous trips that I went for. But here are those moments that are forever etched in my mind:

1. Columban Open Quiz, 2008:
   On the face of it, Kritika and I didn't achieve much at the Columban Open Quiz. We came 3rd in our qualifying round, and were then eliminated in the quarterfinals. However, to put it in perspective, one year back, in Shubham's team, I probably knew just 1/30 of the answers (and we didn't qualify for the quarters). I wanted to prove to myself that I could do well at quizzing. I had absolutely no background in quizzing, and found it more intimidating than exhilarating. Over the next one year, I embarked on a journey with Kritika where we saw each other grow as quizzers. The moment when our name was announced was both unbelievable, and the happiest moment of my life.Then when we did well at the Columban, I remember going back to my room and feeling empty - as if I'd been relieved of a big burden. I left quizzing soon after that, but it gave me confidence of several things - (1) I, or anybody else, is not mediocre; we can survive among the big boys if we want to (2) to be happy in what you get, and not be sad for what you didn't (3) to make the journey with someone is far more pleasant than to make it alone. Kritika is still among my best friends; and to think that we started as merely quizzing partners (and moreover, we both have nothing to do with quizzing anymore).
   
   
2. Manchit's House, 2010:
   I suppose I've given as many surprises to my friends as they've given to me. Yet, the one time when Aashik and I went all the way to Manchit's house in Meerut to meet him encapsulates the joy of giving surprises. Manchit had just fractured his foot and was recovering in Meerut. It was holi, and Aashik and I decided to go meet him, without telling him in advance, of course. It was also the day before Holi, so we were slightly scared. Pranati was our partner-in-crime, picking us up from the bus stop, and then taking us to her home (because, on the way, we saw Manchit leaving for the doctor). Then the wait for Manchit to return, then the wait for Pranati's dad to return; and finally landing up at Manchit's place unannounced. What that experience taught me was to not think too much; just going ahead and doing what the heart feels like.
   
   
3. Europe, 2013:
   To be honest, most of you would find my Eurotrip quite drab; it was a touristy trip that neither I, nor people of my age, would've found particularly exciting. But while waiting for boarding at the Rome airport, I felt a sense of achievement unlike anything I'd felt before. Here I was, living a dream that I had never imagined would come true. Secondly, I did it all on my money. My brother once told me how empowering money felt, and this was the first time that I understood what he meant. Yesterday, while seeing Paris in Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani, I reminisced of how being there was so unreal. To stand in the Louvre's courtyard waiting for Yash, to climb the narrow lanes of Amalfi in Italy and taste the original pizza, to search for an artist in Piazza Navona, Rome, who could make a sketch for Manchit, to compete with Japanese women to buy a spray paint for Gaurav, to walk along the streets of Amsterdam aimlessly - it all feels so unreal now. It felt like a sweet reward for all the sacrifices I'd made on the way; as Amrish Puri in DDLJ would have said 'Ja, jee le apni zindagi.'