What is ‘Wrong’?

Recently I came across an incident that is somehow questioning the very foundations of my adult existence—my perception of the difference between ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’.

The incident goes something like this. This Mr. Gentleman works in one of the well established, very successful IT firms running their operations in India. He is young and dynamic and because of his excellent professional qualities, holds crucial position in the firm. He manages a team of 25 other young and dynamic software engineers and has been held as a model employee and manager in his firm. He is married for 3 years now and had a beautiful daughter last year. It was this successful, almost envious life this gentleman was living, that made it all the more surprising for his colleagues when he was accused of sexual harassment by one of his subordinates.

A girl from his team has claimed that he has attempted to touch her during some late night stays in office and has threatened her of dire consequences if she doesn’t agree to sleep with him.

Without trying to jump to any conclusions here, I want to admit that whatever may the truth be and whatever may be his reasons to do what he did/her reasons to say what she said; nevertheless this report stirred me as if someone had just made me eat a spoonful of wasabi.

After fuming for a day, when the maddening effect was subsiding, I found Sanjog spiking with an interesting question—‘Why didn’t you ever do it!’ That was a new thought for my Gandhi-style-puritan and principle-stricken friend Sanjog. But I concede that the question was interesting enough to deserve a probe.

I had been a manager myself for sometime and had 2-3 female colleagues in my team at different times—and now when I think of them from ‘this’ angle—I do find them not entirely undesirable. And at this moment I get the answer to the question Sanjog has just asked me—“Why didn’t you ever do it!” As soon as I pictured my female ex-colleagues, and saw them from ‘this’ angle, it filled me with an utter, self-loathing disgust. Those were the girls I had worked with for years; I had groomed them, almost protectively, like my younger siblings. They had shared more than half of their life in those years with me—how could I even imagine betraying the trust I was entrusted with by those tender hearts?

But that’s just me, may be our Mr. Gentleman is a different person—with a different set of yardsticks.

I thought I had done sufficient explaining when Sanjog pops a new question—“Is your set of yardsticks better than his?”

Without a second doubt, the first instinct was to say “Of course”. But I knew Sanjog all too well to know that if the answer was that obvious, he wouldn’t have asked it in the first place. How on earth can he possibly think that in some perspective, Mr. Gentleman’s yardsticks can in fact be better than mine, or equally bad…or equally good?

“Let’s put the obvious to test.” He said reading my mind. “Now you think”, he almost shoved his super philosophy into me.

So I think. Not really knowing where to start, I pictured Mr. Gentleman—he was smiling; then I pictured myself—I wasn’t smiling. I realized that I really don’t smile that often. Despite equipped with all the ‘good’ yardsticks, I still fail to find sufficient reasons to smile in my life. Irrespective of whether Mr. Gentleman smiles more than me or not, my yardsticks are obviously not ‘good’ enough if it can’t give me the peace of mind that every human yearns for. I realize that Mr. Gentleman, in all probability, CAN actually smile more often than me—at least until he was caught. Does it mean that the principles you so strongly and desperately hold on to in life like a lone log floating in an ocean, actually have no relation whatsoever with how comfortable your life journey is going to be?

I also realize that once proven guilty, Mr. Gentleman’s life will be totally miserable. His misery will come from the fact that the society, including his family, might desert him and see him with suspicious, accusing eyes for the rest of his life, and accompanying guilt. I will never be in that situation. Does that fact alone makes my yardsticks better than his, and if so—Is the sense of ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ solely determined by what the society can and can not accept? Is there no ‘absolute’ reason that makes me a better human than him!!!

My sense of ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ was suspended in space like a moon stuck between the two equally strong centrifugal and centripetal forces of The Relativism and The Absolute, and it only created The Chaos.

“Do you want to think more?” Sanjog asked. No, I was tired and confused. I needed to sleep.
“So what are you doing here then, how can you make yourself do something you are not ready for? Use your ‘good’ yardsticks on yourself as well, respect yourself as well…you just might find that peace of mind you are so desperately searching for.” And he dissolved into the darkness of the night.

In the morning, I found a note from Sanjog—
“Your yardsticks are better. I’ve no objective reasoning (that you love so much) to show you this, but I think a deed is ‘Wrong’ if it causes someone to do what he or she doesn’t really want to—and that, my friend, is Absolute. And I also think the ‘Right’ principles can give you the real smile only if you have the courage to apply them to everyone, including yourself.”

Biology of Generation Gap

Change is the cornerstone of the very concept of biological evolution. Without change, this whole spectrum of colorful life pulsating on earth would probably have been mere figments of dreams in the Creator’s psyche. The same science that suggests evolution also tells us that the change from nothing someday to something today, has taken millions of years to unfold.

But in the tiny speckle of time that we humans get on this earth, we see a smallest fraction of this change manifesting itself in the petty thing that we so fondly call “The Generation Gap”. If we apply the basic logic behind the change and resulting evolution to the question--why every new generation wants to do something different from the previous one, this whole phenomenon seems to make perfect, even inevitable and desirable, sense.

But interestingly, what apparently remains unexplained through this line of ‘evolution’ary thinking is this—Why does the previous generation resist the change!!!

The answer might lie in Statistics!

What is the success rate of mutations? Define this question the way you want, but the irrefutable fact remains that a pathetically low fraction of mutations actually do end up being the more adapted ones in the surroundings. What happens to the huge gamut of unsuccessful attempts at being “something better”? Those individuals perish…without doubt, without mercy…they perish. They become the sacrificial offerings to the greater, more powerful force of change required for the species.

But this race for survival when seen at the microscopic level of each individual translates into the survival of ‘Me’ and ‘My kind’. Thus with such high odds against the success of the “different”; it’s not entirely unexpected that man, the intelligent being, gets protective of his own kind, protecting his child even from the most basic instincts—to fearlessly try to Change and to Improve.

Director's Cut

Jo Pyar Dar Jaaye, Who Pyar Pyar Nahi,
Jurm Hai, Aiyyashi Hai.

(the love that gets scared is not love, it's a sin, it's indulgence)


S is an Indian friend of mine who claims to have fallen in love with a Chinese girl Q. They meet everyday and spend the evenings together. I haven't seen him so happy in a very long time. If he doesn't meet Q one day, he becomes strangely quite and asocial. It would seem he has got addicted to the company of Q.

I have met Q several times, and the two really seem to be in love. They share an amazing chemistry between them. Both bring out the other one's free child in a very high degree, and as a good friend of both of them, I have had the good fortune of watching the beautiful phenomenon blooming almost in front of my eyes.

But...God, the greatest sadists of all, makes sure that every beautiful package has an ugly edge, so ugly that it's hard to overlook it and for most people, it’s a sufficient reason not to carry the package along in their lives and leave it behind in beautifully decorated garbage bins labeled as "sweet memory".

The ugly edge in the package of love between S and Q was C—the Chinese boy friend of Q. She had been dating him for a year when S and Q met. Now why Q gave herself the permission to fall for S in the first place can be an interesting study in itself, and will be very relevant to the discussion here; but unfortunately I don't have much of insight into the thought processes of Q. In any case, we will be making certain basic assumptions regarding the feelings between S and Q during this discussion that renders the initial feelings of Q towards S irrelevant to this document.

One day I noticed some turbulence in the usually jovial state of S. He explained later that C has discovered about Q dating him, and Q is in a terrible state due to the pangs of her conscious. Q was of the opinion that she should stop seeing S anymore.

I suggested S to look for some opportune moment and ask her certain questions. Part of the dialogue went something like this:

S: Tell me the truth, not what I want to hear. What do you feel when you kiss me? Do you ever think of C?
(Now normally no girl should be telling the truth for such a question, but my personal understanding of human nature makes me believe that under the given situation, she wouldn't lie to S. A person under such a situation wishes someone else to take the decision for him, and hence would tell the truth, especially if it's an ugly one!!!)

Q: I feel good, but I don't think of C.

S: How do you feel when you kiss C? Do you ever think of me at those times?

Q: (with certain uneasiness that S was able to notice) I think of you sometimes and I don't feel good at such times.

S: Do you sleep with him?

Q: No.
(Something in the way she said it, S claims, made him doubt the truthfulness of such a statement. Now against the light of my previous statement, this observation might seem contradictory in the first place, but, then again there are degrees of everything. Sleeping with someone is a much more profound way of the belongingness is expressed; it was, as compared to kissing, much more embarrassing for Q and, probably in her opinion, much more hurting to S. So it’s possible that she might have decided to curtail the truth here.)

If we were to believe the truth of Q's claims (which I would like to for the sake of argument here), Q had developed strong feelings for S over the period they have dated.

The focus of my interest now goes to the feelings of S and I wanted to validate his claims of love. I poked him for further details. I knew I wouldn't have to try too hard, because I could clearly see a glint of righteousness in his eyes. Any person who thinks he has done the right thing is more than eager in his heart to talk about it to someone he looks up to or to someone who looks up to him. The positive stroke during the process is too hard for most people to resist.

So S went on to tell me how he managed to lift Q from her sad state. He was able to convince Q to keep seeing him until he returns to his country[1]. He suggested keeping seeing each other strictly as friends (they would refrain from any sexual activities) as long as Q wasn't sure what she wanted to do[2]. S told Q of instances how much he misses her and how he finds it impossible not to see her. She acceded and S claimed that she felt better at the end of the talk.

Later in the evening, I was walking back with S when he called up Q. Q, in a very stealthy way, asked him not to call or message him that night. S thinks that her boyfriend has given her a surprise visit and hence he obeyed her instructions. I asked him why he would not talk to her even when he wants to — "I don't want her to get into any trouble" was the simple reply.

His supportive behavior might sound impressive to some people, but it got me thinking and for once I saw why god must create those ugly edges along each of the beautiful packages. Traditionally people call it God's way of testing—I see those ugly edges as pointy corners that slice your wrists and make you bleed to near death to make sure that you have earned the package.

I don't hold any contempt against my good friend S but in my opinion, S has misread his feelings in a big way. He failed to stand up to his belief (that he loves Q and Q loves him). During this whole episode,

• He has tried to be supportive and loving, though actually at a subconscious level he conveyed his reluctance to act "like a man" and left Q in as much dilemma as she started with. He has expected Q to feel better of the situation without giving her any real reasons for it.
• He has successfully obscured her view of the situation that she has just started seeing in clear light. Hence her relief can only be very temporary.
• He chose to remain a silent spectator when C comes to Q's place in the evening; even though S was aware that Q might have to go through a very difficult time answering C. The very discussions that evening between C and Q can decide the future course of his proclaimed love.
• His arguments have failed to assure Q of his love and his commitment to make her happy without which Q, who is more inclined towards S, shall remain in an inextricable dilemma until she is able to perceive the real depths of S's feelings and realize her mistake in believing the thought process of a person who himself doesn't actually believe in those!!!

Such people as S usually play the game of being a victim. They fail to stand up to their "perceived" believes and they blame circumstances and others for their failure; gathering pity from others. Another observation of mine reveals a very sad fact that girls tend to feel more for such victims and their stories, without realizing that the stories are just about to be repeated because the director is the guy himself and he loves tragedy.

[1] Please note "until he returns to his country".
[2] Somehow he considered sexual activities as the only means of cheating on C.

I love it, I hate it too

This is the story of R. The other day I an R were talking when American aggression against Iraq and Afghanistan came up in our debate. Now we both consider politics as something beyond resurrection, so we prefer talking about us rather than finding meaning to what the biggies do. Soon R said, “I don’t like what US does, I mean, it does whatever it likes,” (US is an “it” for us) “bomb anything, kill anyone, and that too for bullshitty reasons.”
“Right”, I said.
Five seconds of silence and R speaks again “But somehow I also admire US. It can do what it likes.”

Uh-huh, now that was catchy. He liked and don’t-liked US for exactly the same reason!!! How could that be?

R is a weak person, small in stature and timid in nature. His closest friends are not the one’s who look up to him but the one’s that he looks up to. He’s not very assertive in personal life and usually puts his own interests at the bottom of the interest stack.

Well…it’s not a very difficult thing to see that there might be times when such a person finds himself neglected by people around him despite his goodness freely oozing out non-stop like a fresh water spring. This injustice puts him in a perfect place to empathize with anyone who suffers, including the Afghans and the Iraqis. And if you empathize with these guys, no doubt you don’t like US. He’s basically a child who wishes there could be more justice in the world just the way he perceived when he was an infant in the arms of his mother.

Of course he’s not in his mother’s arms anymore and he gotta survive in this world which is definitely not fair. The survival requires him to be strong; but he feels some kinda insufficiency of this strength. Clearly it makes him admire someone who has this strength, just like he admired his father as a kid—his father who was all powerful and could fix any shitty situation (at least that’s what he perceived). Time has changed, he’s grown up into a young man, his father is an oldie looking at him to make important decisions of the family…but the child still admires power and authority and that’s what US displays.

Tough Armors and Weak Bodies

As always I was late. I boarded the company bus at the last minute. All seats were already occupied. I was relieved to see that I wasn’t the only one who will make the half an hour journey standing in the bus. I saw a girl standing near the door talking to another female sitting on the first row of seats. “Some how these girls always stick together” I mused (Fellowships).

I looked around. There were several guys sitting in the bus. I wondered what would I have done had I been sitting—guess I would have offered her my seat. I took a quick glance at her whole body—she was about 5’4”, slim built, somewhat beautiful, surely desirable, but most certainly very capable of enduring half an hour of standing.

A guy sat by the window next to the female our desirable girl was talking to. He was looking outside the window. Now I knew if I were him I would have offered the girl my seat. But somehow this guy was untouched by such chauvinistic spikes I always failed to resist. Did he feel any guilt? Did he feel ashamed of not doing what people expect him to?

I took a closer look at him. He didn’t look serious; he didn’t look lost in his thoughts. I am hell sure he wasn’t really looking outside either. His eyes had a look of a stoic. They looked hard, almost as if they had frozen solid. His lips firmly closed, he never looked inside the bus (not once even at our desirable girl!!!). His legs moved once in a while but his eyes were fixed outside. He had the look of an impeccable patriarch, of Al Pacino in Scarface. Experience can only teach you the kind of insecurities that are usually hidden behind those stony faces and confident looks.

Despite his apparently I-don’t-care look, I could see that he just has had an internal debate whether or not to give the girl his seat. Between the two debating parties, let’s say, the social-guy and the girls-are-equal-guy; obviously the latter won. But the former refused to leave the stage completely, and this tussle brought in the open a third guy—I-don’t-care-guy.

Only one question remained—who was he fooling?