‘But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth the earning.’

—Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice)

Being able to say little white lies easily must make life so much simpler and pleasant, I imagine. Lies that don't really harm anyone but could benefit you because they create the right impression. If I said to someone that I think they are a good listener, it would certainly make them feel good, they might warm up to me more, and no harm done at all. In fact, that person might even start building their listening skills. But... this is not something I could or would do. If you ask me why, I can't give a very convincing answer I suppose. But I'll try. The main thing is that I am rationalizing something that is hard coded in me and not something I deliberately choose to do (or not to do). I very much wish I could make my life easier by simply saying nice little lies whenever the occasion seemed to call for it; no complications, no fuss, they love me, nobody gets hurt, everybody's happy. But I can't…

I suppose my orientation comes from a compelling desire for authenticity. A sense of inauthenticity is so deeply uncomfortable to me that any other gains could not compensate for it. It is not a question of whether small lies make things easy or benefit me or make someone else feel warmer towards me or anything like that. It only comes down to a question of whether what I am saying matches what I really believe or how I really feel. If I do not feel someone is a good listener, I cannot bring myself to say it. While on the face of it there is no harm, to me making someone believe what I do not believe to be true is intrinsically harmful. Of course, I try my best not to say something that could potentially hurt another person without serving any purpose. I wouldn’t tell someone they are not a good listener—unless they specifically asked me. If they did, I’d have to say it. Another example: if a boss asked me if I enjoyed working with numbers and if this question was important for a bigger role, maybe the boss himself just wants me to agree because it's not that big a deal, I could still not go along. I will have to say the truth even if it means I lose something, or the other person will like me a little less for it. I do know that I have lost sometimes, and people have liked me less sometimes, for sticking to my truth. But I have always felt, on reflection, that those things or people were not meant for me. If instead of appreciating my honesty and authenticity, they penalized me for it, they did not deserve what I brought to the equation.

One person once called me ‘naïve’ after an event because I guess they thought I was unaware my honest response would go against me. I knew it perfectly well but that didn’t mean I could do anything about it. What’s the point of getting something in the short term at the cost of losing who you are? Funny thing is, this person who called me ‘naïve’ seemed to think that by favouring others who could have lied to get what they want he was being smarter, than by choosing someone who didn’t. Tell me who’s naïve? ;) I believe it’s this tendency to reward smooth lies that gets people in places for which they have no competence. And these people continue to lie their way through because that’s the only way they can survive. There is an excellent phrase that captures exactly this: ‘fake it till you make it’!

I'm going to let the cat out of the bag. This 'investment' I hinted at a few blog posts earlier. It is top of my mind now and most likely will be for a bit. I am moving into a new house shortly or so I hope. It's been—unbelievably!—almost 9 years since I have lived on the university campus. Most of it as a student but still... You folks who already have a very good idea about my feelings regarding change might have astutely guessed that I am more nervous/anxious than excited at the prospect of moving out. The very fact that I was plonked in this one location for this long (if you keep aside my eclectic international forays ;)) should suggest my love of rootedness. I was literally forced to take this long overdue step... though for a few years now I felt I needed to make it. Come to think of it, many of my movements have happened when I have been pushed in some way. I love my comfort zone and God knows that... that's why He takes matters into His own hands I think... hehe...

Well, it's the first time in all my life that I am going to actually live in a house that I have bought. It's a funny thing but I feel that as I have grown older, I have become less and less enamoured by the things I would have thought worth aspiring to when I was much younger. Now material possessions don't have as much of an aspirational value for me. I am inclined towards whatever makes me comfortable and peaceful nowadays. More possessions usually mean... more burden. With the new house, I am hoping a bit of temporary discomfort and disturbance will eventually lead the way to comfort and peace. However, I do not look forward to the next few months at all…

One big trouble is, as I said in my earlier post, unlike in India (I mean Mumbai) people seem to love to do everything by themselves over here. Every time I am asked if I am going to do the painting of the house myself, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry? I mean, do they not know me at all? the very idea? I wouldn't know where to even start?! I don't have a concept of painting a wall, you know? That’s a specialist job in Mumbai. I wouldn’t do painting just like I wouldn’t wake up one day and drive a bus. It’s a skill in its own category is what I would have thought, but apparently not over here. Anybody could do it by the looks of it, the way anybody could take out the bin. A few days ago, I joined a colleague on a trip to a carpet place. We don’t do carpets in Mumbai either. I kind of liked the idea of going to such a place though. It felt a bit quaint, and I like quaint. My eyes glazed over when the carpet guy started talking square metres. I have no concept of square metres either :( He seemed to like explaining technical stuff and at one point he was explaining different kinds of carpet fibres with an analogy about him and his current wife, and him and his ex-wife. No kidding!

Recently I read this therapist's advice to a person who said they don't have the will or energy to make a sandwich. The therapist asked them why they don’t just eat the meat, veggies, bread etc that would have gone into the sandwich instead. It would do the same job. Why did they have to do what everyone else was doing ‘normally’? Another example was of someone who found it hard to shower with the lights on because of body image issues. The answer was why they don't switch the lights off. Why do you have to do something a certain way because everyone does it that way, or that’s the way for some arbitrary reason it is supposed to be done? Why not do it in a way that works for you (and doesn’t hurt anyone else)? Why not do what feels comfortable, satisfying, doable to you?

I have to say that this advice resonates with me a lot. Until just a year or so ago, I feel like I was hanging on a lot more to my ideas of how things need to be done. Taking it easy made me feel guilty, like I was slipping up on some unstated standard. I do believe it's good that I have this strong sense of discipline that makes me push through things even when I am not feeling it or when I am not that motivated. It stands me in good stead in areas such as my writing. However, in other areas I want to give myself a lot more grace, I should say. I want to be kinder to myself, say when it comes to cooking or cleaning. I want to do what feels comfortable or doable. I don’t want to feel like I am letting go of discipline but rather that not all things demand that kind of discipline. Nor do they need to be done a certain way because that’s how it’s always been done, or everybody does it that way. It’s okay to go easy, to just be sometimes. To give an example, I do not like wasting food at all. It's something I have learnt from childhood where we didn't really have abundance. It's sort of stuck on. But there are occasions when it's kinder to myself to throw out something than to force myself to consume it, or to have food from outside than to cook. That's the balance I try to maintain where I am not being completely thoughtless about buying/wasting, but not so hung up about it that it sucks the joy out of my everyday life. I try to make space for what feels more comfortable and easier at times... It takes some getting used to. But feels good to give yourself permission to not make everything a target you have got to achieve :)

So I went to get my veg biryani yesterday as per usual at the market. Last Saturday it was again sold out before I got there, so the chap asked me if I wanted to try their Chicken wrap. Apparently it was very popular. I figured no harm trying, who knows I might discover something I like? The chap asked me to report back next time. I didn't expect him to remember. He must have a lot of customers I'm sure. But probably not that many Indians in this town? When I asked for the biryani, he asked me how I liked the wrap last time. I had mentally rehearsed that if he should ask this question I won't say I didn't like it—instead I said I preferred the biryani ;) I did not like the wrap at all actually. The chap said, it's more a 'gore-waala' taste. 'Gore' means 'white' in Hindi (or in Urdu). The wrap was more to white folks' taste was what he meant. I guess I was looking for what tasted like Indian food and the wrap tasted like... not Indian nor anything I could pretend to like... so I was back to the familiar, tried, and tested!

On the matter of me blurting things out honestly. I wish I could pause for a second between what pops in my head and what comes out of my mouth. It's usually too late by the time I have heard it myself. The other day I was standing in a queue at this Subway. There was this young Indian guy right ahead of me. Normally people don't make conversations at these queues (thank God!). I had my earphones on as well, as usual. The guy smiled politely at me and asked if I was a lecturer. I had to get one earphone out and say that yes, I was. He asked, ‘what did I teach’. I got the other earphone out this time, and told him. Then he said he was studying software engineering, and he didn't suppose there was something in common… or something to that effect. Meaning being if I might be teaching something in his course. I don't know why or how I just came out with: 'I don't think we have anything in common'! I wanted to say the disciplines were very different or didn’t have anything in common, but the actual words must have sounded rather personally offhandish and standoffish. The guy just looked straight ahead after that and didn't say a word. I felt mortified but then thought saying anything more could make a bad situation worse—not to mention the side-effect of inviting more conversation! It was only going to be more awkward because I had already spent 2-3 minutes thinking through all this instead of spontaneously correctly myself! I just quietly went along with the queue after that and got my order. Maybe it was the suddenness of being in a small talk situation when I least expected it that got all my brain wires tangled up and words muddled... oh well, that’s just me :(

I interacted with a young Indian girl today. She asked me where I was from. I said from Mumbai but originally from Mangalore. I usually say the last bit because it gives more context of my heritage, though I have grown up in Mumbai. Mumbai is a city where people from all regions have settled—but we still speak our regional languages, have regional foods, etc. Turns out she was from Bangalore. Most Indians I have bumped into here have been from the north, so I was pleasantly surprised. She asked me if I had been to Bangalore, and I could actually say I have. Then she said, I had always heard that women from Mangalore and Coorg are beautiful. I was surprised at that, I half smiled, half laughed. Then she again reiterated, women from Mangalore and Coorg are very pretty. I blushed am sure... and giggled a bit probably... hehe... and said that she was good at flattering. One second I was my usual serious self and the next one I was grinning like an idiot. I heard myself saying she could pop in anytime if she wanted a chat! Kind of made me think about the fact... that in spite of my stated aversion and immunity to flattery... I wasn't all that immune? Or maybe not everyone knows what exact buttons to press to get me eating out of their hands ;)

I feel like I operate in some sort of happy tension between love of structure and love of freedom from constraints of structure. I did not realise this explicitly until someone pointed out to me how I was critiquing rationalist thinking in a highly rationally structured form. I reflected about this. I mean, my daily life is dominated by routine and structure. I am the opposite of spontaneous or 'going with the flow'. I rarely change my mind on things once I have made it up—but for that reason I won't commit to anything that I am not 100 percent sure I can deliver. Sometimes people could see it as me not wanting to do things... but it's me weighing up if I can go the distance. My idea of commitment is not about what I feel in that moment, it is about whether I can stick with it till the end. You could say no one knows if you could stick with something till the end, you might change your mind, circumstances might change, etc. But I see a commitment as something that goes beyond all this; it's primarily about will, decision, and effort. It is also about desire and that's what I assess at the commitment stage itself. If I do not desire it, I might not have what it takes to stick with it, so I must decide if I want to go the distance. Reason I am going into all these thought processes is to show that I am constrained by both internalized structure and externalised structure. If I have to travel somewhere, I am drawing up a plan to the minutest detail with plan B for everything that could go wrong... you see what I mean?

So what do I mean by love of freedom from constraints? How I see it is that I need even more structure in practical life and relationships because it affords me the solid ground in which to soar freely in the world of ideas. That is the arena where I want to fly unfettered. Does that make sense? If everything around me is predictable and works undisturbed, I then have the freedom to float inside my head. Just because my PowerPoint slides have a rigid structure to them, that does not mean the ideas they contain have to be linear or formulaic, right? I do not see the point of worrying about the format of the slides because what is important is the content we are talking about? Just as I do not see the point of me being inefficient about how I get my groceries when I could use that time to think about what makes a certain type of sentence more beautiful than another? Just because I love structures around practical things does not mean I love structure for its own sake. Nor does it mean I see truth or the good as structured or linear or following a structured logic? Do you see my point?

I asked Claude (yes, my forays to understand AI better has meant I experiment with it—more on this later) about this and it came up with a wonderful explanation based on my MBTI type which as you know is INTJ. You'll probably understand the explanation only if you understand MBTI cognitive functions really well. So introverted intuition and extroverted thinking are the first two functions in my cognitive stack (there are only two MBTI types INTJ and INFJ among 16 who have introverted intuition as the first in the stack). So Claude's point is that introverted intuition is unfettered, unconscious, and free, and extroverted thinking is all about laying down systems, processes, planning etc. That's why it makes perfect sense that I am driven to fly with my intuition into abstract territories completely unfettered by any constraints, but my feet at the same time are also firmly planted on the ground. That also apparently allows me to bring my insights back to the ground in some structured form rather than letting them waft vaguely in the air...

I suppose I invoke God too often on this blog for someone who claims to not know if God exists or not. 'I do not know' seems like the most honest position because one cannot 'know'. But the fact that I keep invoking His name must reveal something. That I wish He exists. I am not indifferent to His existence at all. Quite the contrary, really. In fact, all questions for me fundamentally lead to the question of, is there a design, whose design is all this?

I think I draw a whole lot of comfort from even the possibility of God's existence. All's right with the world or will be if He exists... and... while this might seem like a surprising tangent, it was what I was actually getting to... there are some presences in our lives that are a bit like that. They give the kind of comfort that the idea of the existence of God gives. Even if God is not talking to us directly or showing up all the time, the very notion that he’s up there watching out for you, is comforting. These presences too make you feel that all's right with the world or will be with them around. They envelop us with their warmth and care and goodwill and… sheer presence. Perhaps parents are a good example of this. Which is why they leave a deep hole nothing can fill when they are gone. And sometimes we are lucky to have similar other presences come into our lives. Maybe they are literally God’s gift! They make you feel that all is right or will be... as long as they are around.

On Sunday mornings, I have readymade Chinese dumplings with a lovely sauce for breakfast. All I have to do is boil them in a pot of water for a few minutes and done! I got to know about these amazing easy-to-make dumplings from my old Chinese housemate about whom I have written a few times at the time. When you take the dumplings out from the freezer, they are all stuck together randomly in the pack. Some are loose, some are stuck. Earlier I used to try to separate them when I got them out. Some would even break a bit, and they would be all over the place in the boiling water. Then I read somewhere that I shouldn't force them to separate. I should just put them in the water as they are, and eventually they'll separate on their own when they start boiling. I don't need to force it.

Today when doing this it struck me that this could be an analogy for human relationships as well. Something I am not too good at. I think I approach them like I did initially with the dumplings. Getting them to fit the shape of what they should be like ideally. However, I realise that when I let them be, let the thing do its own thing, allow it to breathe, to be itself, who it is rather than who I want it to be... they might naturally open themselves up to me, literally and figuratively. This approach is not how I usually operate, this sort of openness to what will become than to force a ‘be’... but perhaps I could learn…