Saturday, December 20, 2014


Some notes and memorable moments from my recent trip to Kutch with Jayeshbhai, Nimo, Sheetal, Madhu, Bhaskar, and Malay. 

The Rann of Kutch, also known as the White Desert, was unlike anything I had laid eyes on in my life. A totally unique visual experience. We walked out to the middle of the desert at night and then the next morning. You are walking on wet slushy white salt. You can eat the “sand” and it is pure salt. It cakes your chapals and you have to kick it off from time to time. Otherwise as Jayeshbhai said, your chapals start feeling like kilos of weight.

Rann Utsav is a yearly desert festival where people come from around the world to live in tents, roam the desert, ride camels and horses, and enjoy local cultural music, dance, and food. It started as a 3-day festival but with help from Gujarat Tourism and determination of the local community, it grew to 15 days, then one month, and is now a 3-month marquee tourist event with Amitabh Bachchan as the spokesman. The tourist experience is top-notch; the tent cities are massive and an engineering marvel to bring running water and electricity to the white desert. The tents themselves are very luxurious, with tiled bathrooms, wooden floors, high ceiling living rooms with sofas, ACs, and super-cozy beds with fresh sheets and soft pillows. You hardly remember you’re out in a desert.

The first day we had a lovely and memorable welcome to Bhuj by Sushmadidi, Sandeepbhai, and the rest of the Abhiyan/Sahjeevan ecosystem. Sushmadidi and Sandeepbhai have helped build an MS-like community in Kutch with many organizations doing genuine work. We were welcomed MBL Retreat-style and had a heart circle. Nimo shared a story about a conversation he had with his dad to explain simply and clearly what he does and why he doesn’t have a traditional career. If he got a job, he would work hard for his boss or company, and in exchange get a paycheck. The beneficiary of his hard work is his boss and company. If instead he serves society, he works just as hard, if not harder, but the fruits of the work benefit all of society. For that, the “paycheck”, comes from the community, which he accepts with humility and trust.

It was a pleasure spending one-on-one time with Bhaskar. He is such a delightful chap. His passion for wildlife photography is inspiring. He shared a memorable story of how he was preparing his portfolio for an application, and wasn’t getting satisfactory shots. There was an opportunity to go to a far off place where a friend recommended he would get some good ones. He was determined to get the right shots, even after several outings, so though it was far he thought he would try to go. He went in the night to the station looking to catch a bus to the remote location. People told him there was no bus going there, but there would be one the next morning. Should he wait or come back the next morning on a random tip? Reluctantly, he went home half giving up. But he couldn’t sleep, so he got up at 4am to go back to the bus station. Still no bus. But someone suggested he could just take his motorcycle and go. So he rode 6 hours to the location and took some shots deep in the woods. Unfortunately he didn’t let anyone know he was going and he had no phone reception, so when he came back late that night he had tons of worried family and friends mad at him for taking off like that. The story shows his passion for his craft and his friends and family love for him.

We met many memorable people on the trip. Anandiben was there to initiate Rann Utsav, and gave speeches to the local community. In an event celebrating a sanitation project which built 1000 toilets in a village cluster, she talked about all the yojnas (“schemes”) the GOI was enacting to help villages. Many were around upliftment and empowerment of women, which I thought was notable and bold given the area was majority conservative Muslim families. Even at the speech itself, the males took up the left and center aisles, the covered women sat to the far right slightly back. One yojna is for 33% of the police force to be female. Another was for women to have free health care, the logic being mothers always sacrifice their own personal health to keep savings for the children. They put their own health as a lower priority. I thought it was interesting that such a scheme rests on an assumption that is beyond debate in Indian culture, but would probably never make it in a country like the US where the sacrifice and trust and respect of mothers isn’t as universal.

Another interesting person we met was Mia Hussein, the sarpanch of Dorodo Gaam where Rann Utsav is mainly held. He is an enterprising cat, having built up the tourism industry from scratch. He had an office with framed photos of him with Modi, Anandiben, Amitabh, and other celebrities. He has brought schools, hospitals, and tourism to his village, certainly all signs of “development”. He has also got a bank to open up a branch, not just an ATM, in his village, and has wifi access throughout. He is a charismatic guy, Jayeshbhai called him “Radhay of Dorodo” (“Heart of Dorodo”).

We met Ashishbhai, a young “Gram Shilpi” graduate from Vidyapith. He has committed to move to a village and serve for his *entire* life. One village, his whole life. He moved his wife out there, and just had a young child. Ashish chose to serve in Ludiya, but faced challenges being a Hindu in a majority Muslim area. He has received terrorist threats, but is determined to find his service path. He is very brave and inspiring to me on many levels. He shared some fun facts about rural Internet use: folks use What’s App like crazy, they call it “Workshop”. Mostly for photo sharing, as they use Facebook. The other main use of the Internet is pornography. This casts a whole different shade to the perceived noble goal of Internet connectivity to every village in India.
Mehmoodbhai is another friend of Jayeshbhai. He lives in Dorodo, and is a very highly regarded award-winning musician and artist. He is a massive guy but like many village folk has a warm, delicate, gentle manner. We visited his humble home and sat with him and his goats, where he sang us some folk songs. His voice is so sweet and innocent, it was lovely to be in his presence. Seeing him together with Jayeshbhai was very sweet, they have such a loving and light bond based purely on joyful heart connection.

Speaking of Jayeshbhai, he was the MVP of the trip. At the risk of piling on hero worship, I want to record some of the things I observed about him as we spent a few days together. He is very observant, especially sensitive to moments of beauty. We were in the car in deep conversation and he stopped to point out a distant flock of birds where one was white while the others were dark. Another time we were driving by a rest stop where a couple busloads of uniform-clad school girls were drinking water. He saw one plastic cup blowing in the sand as we drove by at full speed. He had the car stop to pick it up and engage with the girls in a teachable moment.

He moves effortlessly between social activists to powerful politicians to business moguls to village folks. He is absolutely the same simple loving soul in all contexts. He is totally comfortable in his own skin, and doesn't pander to anyone. However powerful or famous, he introduces all seven of us with each of our back-stories as if we are the dignitaries. His conversations acknowledge the darkness but are mainly concerned with the light, the good in each human being; highlighting each of their higher selves. Inevitably, the person melts and smiles warmly; “Jayeshbhai, anything for you”.

During one meeting with villagers who were disputing the government over wild land being turned over for tourism and development, during a tense moment he shared from the heart. He asked everyone to be in silence, then offered personal stories to respond less with head and more with heart. I was especially touched when he emotionally shared how this vistaar of Kutch was very special to him as he spent a year doing rehabilitation after the earthquake. The experience changed his life and gave him an opportunity for service, for which he is forever connected and indebted to this land and its people. He was careful to acknowledge not the logical arguments, but the glint in the eye and determination of the farmers who were telling their stories.

It was a treasure of a trip.  Thanks to the Boyz for the memories.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Clever Ball Catching and Ravi's Leap

Last week we had Sunday morning football practice in Jamalpur. The players from that slum continue to anchor the MS football program, being amongst our most talented and committed. Recently they have nurtured a girls team to start learning the game as well. The leader of the girls team, Sonal, was a bad apple before, getting into trouble and bullying kids. But after embracing football, she has left all the gambling and gangsterism, even going back to school as a 16-year-old learning to read with the 5th graders. She and her family attribute football as the catalyst. Now her parents want her to make a name for the family as a football star.

Now that there is a girls team as well, we went to Jamalpur to practice rather than making the 40 kids all travel to the ashram. There were two stories from the practice that I wanted to record.

The Jamalpur kids play in a dumping ground next to a riverbank. Once in a while a ball bounces over the wall and into the river. They have an ingenious method to retrieve the balls. They keep a gunny sack filled with heavy rocks on the side. When a ball splashes in, they immediately spring into action. One person runs and drags out the rocks. Then they start throwing them around the ball to get the ripples to move the ball to the near-side bank. They keep doing this until the ball trickles to a break in the embankment where they can reach down and scoop up the ball. They've even created a scooper made out of an old bag and rope that they throw in to scoop up the ball from afar. I love how they stay prepared with the rocks and how they used a local materials for an effective solution.

The other story is about Ravi, one of our veteran players. Ravi is one of the sweetest kids on the team. He is quiet but confident. He is very responsible; he looks after the other kids and always helps with managing the equipment and setting up drills. This past Diwali his family was in a tough financial situation. They had no money to celebrate Diwali, where typically all family members get presents. The Jamalpur football players are very close; they are like brothers and remind me of the Goonies. They all knew Ravi was not going to get any presents, so they all pooled their own gift money together. They raised Rs.1000 and bought Ravi new clothes. This is no small amount and in my book no small act of generosity. I told the children that this is the real meaning of team. Team isn't just about passing the ball to each other on the field. It's having each other's back in life. I couldn't have been more proud.

During this practice Ravi was on fire. He's developed into our top two or three players in the program. He scored about 4 really exceptional goals. One was an upper-V rocket, another was a great header off of a throw-in where he got good position and caught it high and strong, a couple other speed plays. After one of the goals he scored and ran back to his side in celebration. He yelped and his hands were outstretched. He leaped high in the air, kicked his feat out, tossed back his head, and landed into the arms of a teammate screaming. It was a leap of joy, pure joy. It was breath-taking. Just writing about it right now, I can see it in my mind's eye and it brings tears to my eyes. I wish more than anything that I could have captured that goofy glorious jump for joy.

Football is a simple game. It's basically a ball and some open space. But with that bit of nothing, a child going through very tough times can experience unbridled joy. What strength and resilience and dignity these kids have. It's so inspiring to me.

This was, in a nutshell, why I love these kids and feel blessed to have them in my life.

Monday, September 29, 2014


Narendra Modi's birthday was a couple weeks back. I knew this because it was also the week that the president of China, Xi Jinping, visited India for business/diplomacy. The plan was to celebrate with the China team in Ahmedabad, where Modi's team greeted and took them around the city.

To prepare, Ahmedabad was cleaned up in a big way. Hundreds of AMC workers in neon bibs showed up on the streets daily for a week up to the event, sweeping and cleaning. Way more AMC guys than I'd ever seen before, they just seemed to come out of the woodwork. It wasn't clear whether they were the regular AMC cleanup team that has never shown up for the job, or whether they had brought in extra dudes. Potholes got filled, driving and walking lanes got painted, plants lined the streets. Tons of fun and cheesy signs welcoming the President were put up everywhere, I loved the two hands where the one for Anandiben was clearly a man's hand:

The cleanup work only happened along the planned route that the China + India contingent would take during their visit. This is an old trick that Modi and now Anandiben uses: they drive around Ahmedabad, and wherever they go things get fixed as people opportunistically save their jobs. I always thought it would make sense to send fake CM vehicles around the city constantly.  It was clear that this was an effort to make a good impression on Xi and China, to show off Ahmedabad as an example of "India Shining". And in true India Shining fashion, a shiny veneer was sufficient.

I was going to just let this pass as an amusing event, but the day before the visit I noticed a new level to the "cleanup". AMC rolled out miles of a green tarp material along the roads, basically putting a curtain over any unseemly sights. This included the Tekra, the slum area next to my house:

I felt outraged by the tarp, it's why I decided to write this post. It's one thing to create a facade by cleaning up some pre-selected streets, but to delete people and their homes from the view? Isn't the Tekra the most real thing Xi could see about India? I felt upset about it mostly because of the psychological damage I supposed it would have on Tekra residents. If I were them, I would be pissed that Modi is embarrassed about the way I live and would rather pretend that I don't exist. Even the whole idea of strategic cleanup, what message does that subtly send to your people? Maybe Modi figured that since this is basically what China does with foreign visitors, they would expect the same treatment? I wasn't sure if locals were as upset as I was about this, maybe I was over-reacting?

On the day of the visit, I got stuck in Vadaj where they had blocked traffic for an hour to let the Modi and China teams pass through. This is a typical occurrence. Even when the CM drives through the Ahmedabad streets, they close everything off kilometers in all directions. In front of our apartment on Ashram Road, they had kids in their school uniforms standing at arms length apart alternating China and India flags. I thought it was pretty lame, and some of the kids were passing out standing in the heat for hours:

I wonder whether Modi chose to have the China team land in Ahmedabad rather than Delhi because it would be easier (or the only possible way) to have this level of control over the environment. In one sense, you can't blame him and it's what you'd want if you were an Indian citizen. But the whole thing felt inauthentic and contrived. Politics.

Thursday, September 25, 2014


I am stressed out. Stress has been building up in my life seriously in the last year, but I was in denial about it until just recently. Since I diagnosed myself as suffering from stress it has gotten me to reflect quite a bit on it. Stress plays out for a person in two ways, physically and mentally.


Physical Stress

Starting about a year ago I started experiencing upper back and neck pain. It would most noticeably appear during meditation and in the mornings when I woke up. I initially interpreted it narrowly as being due to those activities; around the same time as the pain showed up I had stepped up to two hours a day of meditation, so perhaps the pain was due to the additional sitting. Also I was not feeling comfortable on my bed, the mattress was sitting uneven against the metal rail base, perhaps I wasn't getting proper back support at night. Anji had suggested that I was stressed, but I told her I didn't feel stressed and I don't get stressed. It was an ego thing.

My theory of a purely physical problem continued to be my truth until a few weeks ago. I was sitting in meditation and it suddenly hit me that the back pain had a mental component. Almost immediately the acknowledgement of that reality changed the physical manifestation of the stress. I no longer felt stiff back waking up in the mornings (so it wasn't the bed). I started feeling the back and neck pain during both morning and evening meditation (before it was just evening, which was consistent with my theory that it was due to extra sitting). After the aha moment I felt quite silly. For some reason I had spent a year telling myself that this pain was qualitatively different from the sensations I observe all the time in meditation. It wasn't a sankara, it was a purely physical condition due to my bed being screwed up. Acknowledging the mental component of my stress immediately changed the nature of it.


Mental Stress

Since the aha moment I have been observing the mental side of my stress. I read up on why/how mental stress manifests physically. Essentially mental stress causes the muscles in your neck and back to involuntarily contract. That repeated contraction closes and even damages blood vessels in that area and restricts blood flow. The pain is due to lack of blood flow because your muscles are not relaxed.

After I realized my stress was mental, it was easy to pinpoint the real cause. Work has been tremendously busy in the last year and especially in the last 6 months. All the cliches of getting buried by your startup showed up in a big way. Every day is jam packed, back to back to back meeting or task or unexpected issue with hardly a free moment to take a breath. There are two areas of the company that I have been taking on additional burden, fundraising and dealing with fundamental technical issues. Both have presented what at times feels like insurmountable challenges, and since I'm the only one that can do them, I feel alone on an island with them. Our telephony systems have been churning from one disaster to another for a year and it has taken a massive effort to keep things from blowing up. We recently added SMS alerts when lines need to be watched or restarted. It is a huge stress looking at your phone and seeing the 15 times the system has generated a fault. These alerts even come in the middle of the night, I've gotten scared of keeping my phone on. With fundraising, negotiation is a grueling process which is time consuming and mentally draining. In particular I find working with legal documents so difficult, you are scrutinizing every sentence to try to decode someone's intention. You feel defensive and threatened and scarce.

In the mornings, I frequently wake up anxious as my mind turns onto the million things I need to accomplish that day. I am constantly thinking about things to do, even when I sit. I can't turn off my mind from thinking about work. Multitasking, sometimes in the mornings I feel numbness in my face as I try to do email while debugging while helping Aartiben prepare food. I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I'm at work doing something that requires deep concentration like debugging, but I'm rushing to get it done because the whole time I'm nervous that someone or something is going to interrupt me and take my attention away. Every day I feel like I'm racing against the clock to finish the day's work. One of the major sources of stress and anxiety is that I always feel that there isn't enough time. It makes every decision heavy and deliberate and burdensome. I feel like I'm walking up a mountain trail that keeps getting steeper and steeper. Things seem to keep piling up on top of itself, and no matter how fast I work the pile keeps growing.

Compounding the stress is a feeling of lonliness. When there's the tallest pile of shit on me, I feel the most alone. During those times I feel most seperated from my friends and family.


Coping With Stress

I felt like the last month or so I've suffered a lot mentally dealing with the challenges at work. It has taken a toll on me mentally and physically. I've picked up a few things along the way to help me cope. The fundamental breakthrough was acknowledging that I was stressed, that changed the nature of it from a mysterious physical phenomena to a mental dynamic that I have to see myself through.

I was super inspired by this talk by David Brooks on depth of character. He argues that a life chasing after happiness is ultimately shallow. The mark we should be aiming for is beyond happiness, it's depth or holiness. Among the ways to cultivate depth of character is to suffer and to struggle internally. People often name times of adversity, not times of joy, as turning points in life. The times where you really had to dig deep and discover what you are made of. Those times come in the midst of intense suffering. So embrace suffering as a teacher and an opportunity to build depth. There's no way around, you have to go through.

Awakin gatherings have been great group therapy for me. The last several circles I've shared about my stress. The other week I shared that there are a few simple things I realized help with my stress. First was to breathe. I observed that the times I felt anxiety set in, my breathing turned shallow. So I started deliberately taking deep breaths during those times to get the oxygen flowing and it has helped tremendously. Second was to listen to music, especially light and uplifting stuff. I have gotten away from music recently because it messes with my meditation, choosing instead to listen to podcasts when I'm at the gym or classical when I'm at work. But the other day I happened to put on Sid Sriram while on the treadmill and just hearing his voice took me to another place. It was so uplifting, it made me feel human after a long time. I realized that part of the stress comes from feeling mechanical, listening to talking heads and having no spontaneity. Music introduces freshness and humanness and brought me back from feeling like a robot. The last tip I shared was to recognize small victories. I realized that when we are facing technical problems at work, when even a small thing goes right, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted. Makes me feel like it's just a matter of turning the corner and things will be better.

At another Awakin Prakash shared something that stayed with me, a lesson he learned from a spiritual teacher: when we feel tension, that is a signal that the ego is strong in us. We are tense because we feel that we are the Doer. In reality we are all just instruments of the Law of Nature.

The one time in my routine where I still feel totally free of symptoms of stress is when I'm pumping iron at the gym. My back pain melts away, I'm not dealing with anyone, I'm doing something I love and is good for me, I can take my mind off of everything. It's my last refuge.

I know what I need to do to continue to deal with my stress. I am burned out, I need to get away and unplug and untangle. I need to get more help at work and directly tackle the big problems.

I look forward to reading this post years or even months from now when I probably won't be able to relate at all to what I'm going through in the moment. Knowing the impermanence of this experience doesn't make the suffering go away, but it helps detach and put it in perspective.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Patel Academy

My nieces Sonia and Sarina (ages 11 and 7) sometimes record videos with questions on topics they are curious about and send them to their masis, masas, mamas, and mamis for answers. Sort of like a family-powered, demand-driven Khan Academy. Patel Academy. Recently they sent me and Jay a question about how FaceTime works:

They are very cute, I especially loved Sonia's articulate enthusiasm and Sarina as she avoided getting slapped in the face. I took the question up because it was interesting, I knew the answer, and thought it would be fun to make the video and delight the girls. I wanted to do something Khan Academy style because the response required a diagram to explain properly. I eventually settled on screen capturing an animated powerpoint, which gave me all the control I needed and perhaps better graphics than drawing on a tab. It was also way easier to set up than a screen-captured stencil and tab:

The video was a big hit with the girls. Sejal and Sanjay were also thrilled, and so was I! I believe Sal Khan got started with his videos in much the same way, making them for young family members. I could see why it was so engaging. It took me a while to do the pixel graphic, but most of the time was taken up recording the voice-over. I tried to make it perfect, since a video lasts forever. I stubbornly didn't script it out, so did about 30 takes before I got it decent. But the whole time I was totally energized and excited to do it. It's fun to think about how to simplify complex topics, fun to produce videos, and most of all fun to think of and feel love for my nieces. They came back with this response and follow-up questions:

This was vintage Sejal, who with Sanjay sent back such sweet and heartfelt notes of praise and gratitude. I was grateful too for the opportunity to be part of the game and feel close and connected to the girls even though I'm so far away. For my responses I did one each for Sonia and Sarina's questions, who asked about what the Internet's "pipes" were and how computers work with 1's and 0s:

Video used like this is an outstanding way to learn and engage. It takes thoughtful effort to record a video response and even the question. Both sides are engaged deeply as they organize their thoughts to record something with quality for the other. It was good fun learning and re-learning (CS61C flashbacks when explaining opcodes!).

I think a great model for growing Khan Academy (if they haven't already done this) is to decentralize the video production and empower TedX-style Khan Academies like Patel Academy. I would have loved some peer-review of my videos and suggestions to improve. If Khan Academy is really to scale, the only way is to birth a million local informal KhanX Academies amongst social groups large and small. Also it's great if the student, not just the teacher, record so the learning is demand-driven and the student's engagement is stepped up by creating, not just consuming.

Imagine, even, if the students turned around and started producing their own instructional videos to keep the chain going!

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Driving Delight

Over the last year or so, the most pleasant experience I've had living in India has been that of becoming a licensed driver, and more recently, a car owner. There are many aspects of daily life in India that, put mildly, are a challenge, but I've been delighted by the experience of being a driver with my own car.

I've already written about how driving has subtly but profoundly improved my day-to-day life. In short, I feel more independent, and free of the sometimes harsh often tedious transactions associated with riding rickshaws or public transportation. Now I sit in my nice clean new air conditioned Maruti Suzuki Wagon-R, which has transformed getting around from hassle to something like enjoyment. 

Since I've started driving, I have also discovered the secret world of delightful facilities and services that come with driving a car, and more specifically, being a car owner. I've come to believe that car ownership is one aspect of Indian life that matches the convenience, reliability, and modernity of the US, and in some aspects beats the US.

Buying my car itself was relatively hassle-free. It was just like it would be in the States, I showed up to a local dealership one day, saw what they had, bargained off of clearly written rates that checked out, and bought the car the next day. There was one hitch in the experience that the car I bought got sold before the salesman submitted the paperwork, and I had the T.I.I. sirens going off in my head, but it got rectified in a pretty satisfactory way. The on-the-road ("out-the-door") price included insurance and maintenance, and there were no hidden fees. Very straight-forward. Even dealing with the RTO for registration and license plates was more or less straightforward. The RTO (Indian DMV) sent me an SMS to show up for a license plate appointment, which was facilitated by the dealer that even helped me reschedule. At the RTO I didn't have to bribe anyone (though one guy tricked me out of Rs.100 by saying I had to pay a penalty for rescheduling), and my license plate came as advertised. I had to wait about 2 hours, but that was what I was told would happen so my expectations were properly set. They fit it professionally and I was on my way.

My car is great. I had my eye on Wagon-R for a while because it looks just like my long-time car at home, Suzi, which was also made by Suzuki. My Wagon-R is named Laila. Anji came up with the name and Aum approved it. Laila is a joy to drive, she is fully loaded with power features, and smells great thanks to my little "perfume" (air freshener). I can plug in my iPod and listen to rap on Indian roads, which I will probably never get tired of. But usually I have the radio off so I can concentrate. There's nothing like having a new car. And since Maruti Wagon-R's have great reputations, I have no worries about it maintenance wise.

Probably my favorite aspect of driving a car is going to the petrol (gas) station. This is one of the rare arenas where India beats the US in customer experience. In an Indian petrol station, it's full service. You pull in and an attendant directs you to a pump. There is almost never a line. Then the attendant asks you how much to fill, you pay him, as a matter of protocol he requests you to check the meter to make sure it's zeroed out, and then starts pumping. Meanwhile you're just chilling in your car and the attendant squeegees your windshield. The attendant is almost always friendly and *never* hassles you about change. In fact, you can reliably break large notes with them, pretty much the only place you can do so in Indian life.

I recently took the Gujarat Express Way from Ahmedabad to Nadiad, and another time to Baroda. The freeway was clean and besides super aggressive drivers that make moves that literally pay no regard to other drivers' lives, cutting people off and squeezing you behind trucks for no reason, it felt just like I was on I-80 going from Sacramento to Mountain View. Even better because there's very little traffic. The toll tax is clearly written on a sign and the booth attendants give you a scannable receipt that they beep through when you exit the freeway. There are lots of signs to direct you, even in Ahmedabad city the signs are super helpful and between them and asking strangers you can get anywhere pretty much stress-free. Roads in the city are also not bad; despite negative reputation of the state government I routinely see potholes one week disappear the next.

I ordered pleather seat covers for my car, since Ba insisted we have them and it seems every Gujarati blindly assumes that you must have seat covers or else it's barbaric. The guy I ordered from sent the installers to my house one evening. It was a team of four young dudes that showed up like X-Men. I expected a crusty old man on a bike that would take 4 hours to do the work, but these young bucks attacked my car like true pros and got the job done within 30 minutes. In India, seat covers form-fit and require unbolting and removing the seats to install. These kids worked like a true team and did a fantastic job. The seats looked great. Like with petrol stations, this was one of those rare times in Indian life where what you got from a customer experience standpoint was way beyond what you expected your money would buy. The customer was delighted.

I broke loose my rearview mirror driving the wrong way of a one-way street (I regret it, wasn't my choice, and won't do it again), and was a bit worried about how hard it would be to get it fixed. Where are the Maruti service centers? Will they hassle me or make me do something with my insurance? Will it take forever or be expensive? Turns out I was apprehensive for no reason. The service center was in Naranpura close to Ba's house, and even it had useful signs from the main road to guide me there. The dude at the service center quickly took a look at the mirror, drove the car behind, and within 5 minutes returned with the electric mechanism working perfectly. He had also put into place a part of the plastic case that had slightly dislodged, which I had forgotten to mention. He had me sign a slip and that was it. No charge! I told him this was great customer service, and I love being a Maruti owner.

The promise and potential of consumerism/customer experience in India functioning at a world-class level is on display in the arena of car ownership. Way on the other end of the spectrum is consumer banking, which is the shittiest thing ever. But that's for another post.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Corruption Is The Root

During the last Indian election the Aam Aadmi party shook things up and offered many people hope of working for a corruption-free India. I wasn't following the elections very closely, but from what I gathered, AAP's platform was that corruption may not be India's only problem, but it is the first problem because it is at the root of many others. It is the mother of all systemic problems in India.

It's possible to understand "corruption is everywhere" in the abstract and even in the mundane in Indian daily life. For example traffic cops take small bribes and hassle you for no reason all the time. But I had a real epiphany about how corruption colors everything about life here while I was at the RTO getting my car's license plates.

I've written about how doing most things in India, like opening a bank account or getting an Internet connection or registering for an exam or getting your license plates, is full of protocol. There is paperwork everywhere and it is nerve wracking because people will nitpick your paperwork and find any reason to reject it. You are missing this document, this document must be notarized, your signature doesn't match, your signature isn't signed across the photo, your photo isn't passport sized, you made a correction in the date but can't cross-sign dates, I've heard it all. In the US paperwork is a formality; in India people make livelihoods out of pushing papers, so it's all scrutinized to an obnoxious level.

I realized that when you have these very rigid almost ritualistic protocols to do everyday stuff, it requires a gatekeeper to check your work. And as a gatekeeper you can stop folks from getting what they want. And if you have the power to stop, you have the power to be fed. So why is Indian life so full of annoying paperwork and processes that often reject you out of stupid technicalities? Because that provides a pretense for someone to take a bride.

If AAP's vision comes to fruition and corruption is eradicated from Indian society, the annoying ritualized protocols will also fade away. If there is no opportunity to be greased, why am I keeping this gate so tightly?

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Candy Crushing It In AnyVillage, India

Over Raksha Bhandan holiday I visited Bithli, Masi's gaam. Since Bhoti got married, Masi and Masa have mostly shifted base from Baroda to Bithli. Masa manages the farming operation and Masi entertains an endless stream (though slightly less bandwidth than Aalap) of guests.

While I was there, one thing totally captivated my attention, beside the huge 15x10 foot wall length portraits of Keya and Sujit on the second floor of Masi's house. As far as I could tell, Candy Crush had swept up the entire male population of the village. Everywhere I went, men were playing. Every house had the same scene: all males head down, sometimes sitting in corners out of semi-shame, working their thumbs nimbly over their sleek touch screens.

Masa told me he himself plays five hours a day. Five hours a day! Candy Crush when you wake up in the morning. Candy Crush while waiting for lunch. Candy Crush while relaxing after lunch on the porch. When your wife yells at you to get off of the phone, pull out your tab and Candy Crush on there. That's really crushing it. Masa has become an expert player. Conversations in all male huddles, which tend to form throughout the day in gaam life, never concluded without chit-chat about what level someone reached or what quest was completed or little quirks and ways to cheat the game. Dhruv taught me a bit and I found the game interesting and pretty challenging. But nothing I would play for hours every day.

I thrilled at how this game had penetrated this random Indian village and taken it by storm, so far away by distances of space time and context from where it originated. What would happen if the Candy Crush Braintrust, what I imagine as a cadre of 20-something hipster-types in a posh industrial area in SF plotting the next move for their game to conquer the world, visited Bithli?

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Manav Sadhna Blue Stars Update

There have been a few landmark moments for the MS Football team over the last few months and it is high time I write about them. First, the team has officially been named the Manav Sadhna Blue Stars. The children decided on the name themselves after nearly six months of passive deliberation. The 'Blue' is the children paying homage to my high school team, the "Blue Devils".

In July, The Blue Stars participated in the annual Sintex Cup, hosted by Kahaani, one of Ahmedabad's premier and most active football clubs and one of our program's best supporters. Coming into the tournament, we faced a tall task because we were forced to play in the U18 division. The divsion below was U14, and since our A team has players ranging from 13-17, we got caught in the middle. Playing against older boys would not be easy, but in three matches we put up a solid effort. In the first match, the children never backed down throughout a 5-0 defeat to a team from Rajkot, one of the best teams in the tournament. Our biggest challenge was keeping organized defensively and maintaining enough possession to attack. In the second game we had our breakthrough, scoring our first goal ever in tournament play. It was off of a quick pass by Daval which Nilesh pushed in from five feet. The kids reacted like they won the World Cup. They lost the match 6-1, but there was no way to tell by the demeanor of the teams which team won after the game. I personally felt a sense of relief that we had finally broken through with a goal in a real match. In the final match of the tournament we were shut out again, and the team didn't play up to their potential against a weaker opponent. They played like they had already gotten what they came for in the tournament. It was gratifying to put one big step behind us (scoring) to clearly face the next huge one (winning). The kids got enough of a taste that they remain fiercely hungry, and completely unfazed by losing.

Today, we had another truly memorable day, holding our Sunday morning practice in Jamalpur, a medium sized slum in the old city. There are a group of about five players on our team from Jamalpur that form the backbone of the program. Ravi, Mayur, Daval, Hitesh, and Dasarath are our historically most committed players. They travel the furthest for Sunday practice, and are usually the first to arrive. They are also amongst our best players. They hold their own daily soccer practice in Jamalpur with local kids, whom they have introduced to the game completely on their own. This day was a long time coming, as they have been insisting that I visit Jamalpur and see where they come from and how they play.
They play in a dirt patch on the riverfront. It is littered with large colorful piles of garbage. Walking up the clearing I was thrown off because the colors almost made it look beautiful.

The Jamalpur kids had been prepping the ground for the past week, pulling wild grass and cleaning up garbage. They had even booked a garbage removal service to come with a machine and scoop up the heaping pile they had gathered up. That machine didn't show up, so at 5am all the local kids woke up and moved the pile to one side with their hands to have a good place to play later that morning. It took my breath away. They also built an incredible homemade goal, inspired by a photo essay I showed them during World Cup on goalposts from around the world. I felt awe and admiration for the passion and dedication these kids show for the game.

We practiced for a couple hours with over 40 players, using the fantastic collapsible goals brought over by Eashan from the UK, and then went to visit some of the players' homes. This was something I was really looking forward to. Connecting with how these kids live, breath, where they come from, it all felt long overdue since they have have been an important part of my life over the last couple years. I wanted to meet their parents to understand the kids better and also engage the parents to feel part of the program, hear out their concerns and dreams, and generally develop a deeper connection with the kids and community. I truly feel that these kids are talented in their own ways and have such great potential, and I was delighted to find that each of their parents saw the same. They want to grow up to be accountants, artists, or work with computers. Mayur's mother, a 10th-grade pass-out who has worked 17 years for a local NGO, traveling all over India and addressing crowds of thousands, spoke about how she sees soccer matches on TV and how she envisions her son there. How she is grateful that her son has an opportunity to develop to his full potential. She sees Narendra Modi, who came from a modest background to be India's PM, as an example of how any child, including her own, can reach grand heights. In their very modest 200 sq. foot one-room home, I was humbled and grateful to hear Daval's father talk about how he sees his future in his only son. He works late nights till 12 or 1am to support him and his two daughters. He carefully monitors Daval's progress in school and only asks us to look after him well. All of these families are working class; Mayur's father supervises a clothing factory, Dasrath's mother is a vegetable seller, Daval's Dad is a clothing decorator. All of them wanted basically the same thing: continue to play football, but also to give the same effort and attention to their schoolwork. I told Mayur's mom that in my personal experience growing up with sports, my achievement in school and soccer were correlated; both reinforced and supported achievement in the other, such that I probably wouldn't have been as successful in either had I not had both. This is the message we will impart, perhaps more frequently and explicitly, to our players.

Working with these children over the last few years has caused me to question having my own children. If I can be around children like these, give love and support in the ways I feel most connected to, and actually feel that I'm influencing them positively in even a small way, that is enough. If I have my own children, I would have to prioritize them first. And there are so many millions of children already in the world that need love and support.

We ended with a meal arranged at Manav Sadhna's Jamalpur center (Manav Gulzar), the first place in India I've ever seen with a temple and masjid side by side. As we left, I felt exhausted but filled up with real joy and gratitude for having these kids and this project in my life.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Unsung Hero

Raghu Makwana, a friend and long-time pillar of the Manav Sadhna ecosystem, passed away yesterday. Lot of people closer to him will probably be posting more detailed tributes about him and his work (UPDATE: beautiful writeup by Sid) , I want to share some of my reflections on what he did and who he was, and what it means to me.

Raghu was a true unsung hero. He wasn't famous, he didn't have followers, his work was small. But it was done with a deep purity and with a vast amount of love. He was a real-life manifestation of Mother Teresa's credo: "We can do no great things; only small things with great love".

I will remember a few personal moments with Raghu. First was his smile and his loving embrace. Having no legs, he was low to the ground, so to give him a hug you'd often have to crouch down on the ground. But it never felt unnatural or abnormal. In fact his "disability" didn't enter my conciousness much if at all when interacting with him. That may be one of his most inspiring qualities. He had such dignity, he never let you feel sorry for him.

And he never felt sorry for himself. As Amitabh shared today during the funeral, he was a modern-day Shravan. Instead of asking his parents to take care of him, he took care of his parents and his entire family.

He took care of so many others as well. He treated the 30+ maa-jis he served through Tyaag Nu Tiffin like his own mothers. Jayeshbhai noted today that he would feed all of them before he ate himself. So he acted like a mother to them. That motherly love is close to Godly love. Jayeshbhai called Raghu "baghwaan nu maanas" ("man of god"). And that's why he left us so early; God called him up to do His work.

I will never forget Fernando's sharing during an Awaking circle just after he had spent a day making the tiffin rounds with Raghu on his custom-made hand-pedalled cycle. Fernando was an MS volunteer from Guatemala. That day when he saw Raghu interacting with the maa-jis, he felt closer to God than he had ever felt. People were confused about him coming to volunteer in India. Why were you going? Were you depressed or crazy? Why are you leaving your good career and all your friends? Fernando didn't have an answer to the question until that day with Raghu. That day, he realized he had come to India to tell his "masterpiece" love story, and it was about a man with polio in an Indian slum serving meals to old women.

Countless others have been  touched by Raghu's feats of love. Abdul Kalam once saluted him and presented him an award. Jayeshbhai shared that a volunteer from the other side of the world heard about Raghu's passing and called him, crying and crying. She was from a different country, followed a different tradition, observed a different religion, spoke a different language, but had connected with Raghu's heart. And so she was crying and crying about how this soul could have left us so suddenly.

Nisha and I talked tonight about pure work. Without putting any labels on it himself, Raghu did pure, heartfelt work. I remember speaking to him a year or so ago after his first 10-day, he had a visible glow. He had seen how the inner work related to the outer, how he had connected the dots and gained a spiritual perspective to performing each action. He had reached a new understanding. And since then he had put it into practice.

These days I find myself thinking about legacy more that I probably should (read:EGO). What is Raghu's legacy, now that he is no more? His work was a drop in the ocean, but it was so pure, done with genuine love, beyond seeking self-congratulation or external accolades. And that purity itself rippled out. Fernando wasn't moved because Raghu was an exemplary social entrepreneur. He was moved by the depth of Raghu's compassion and love.

I find myself feeling more and more that for me planting seeds of compassion and love is the only legacy worth striving for.