I was delighted to find jackfruits in the local supermarket over here last year. I did not buy any because I was too intimidated. Though the fruit was cut into four large sections, it was still pretty huge. This time I was again delighted to find it. I kept debating whether to buy it. I even placed it in my shopping cart and took it around while I mulled over my decision. I realised that I did not have coconut oil at home. The idea of coconut oil and my question of buy or not to buy took me back… many, many years ago. The thing is the jackfruit is not any ordinary fruit for me. It is a fruit I love but the love is tied to the love of a whole lot of other things, memories of all of it. Memories of Mangalore, memories of some of the best times of childhood I have had in Mangalore, memories of my grandmother, her home, memories of her keeping the jackfruit ready for when we arrived from Mumbai, the ritual and ceremony of cutting the jackfruit, the anticipation of it, the drama of all of us big and small sitting in a circle to eat it… coconut oil would be poured in small steel bowls, we would all have to apply it lavishly to our palms… that would make sure that the jackfruit sap wouldn’t stick to our hands when we pulled out the flesh. Grandmom would cut the jackfruit and pass around portions for us to pull out of and drop into a large vessel. She would comment on how there was nothing falling into my vessel ;) It was a festival in a way, and like any festival, it would last many days. The fruits that were left were made into many dishes, some steamed, some fried. The seeds were put into curry, the thick wedges around the fruit in a pickle, nothing was wasted. The whole house would smell of the sweetness of jackfruit… I realised that I didn’t feel like buying the jackfruit in spite of how much I wanted it because the thought of chopping it and eating it all by myself seemed… rather drab.

A few days ago though I found slices of cut/cleaned jackfruit in a plastic container sold with other cut fruits in our campus canteen :) I got those because it would be like eating any readymade fruit. Later that evening I was passing by a big fruit shop by my place. A man was cutting jackfruit with gloves on. No coconut oil needed. Blew my mind in a way! Times have changed, the world has moved on in so many ways…

On a funnier note, a Chinese lady colleague remarked to me the other day that my 'sweater is very sexy’. I was a bit shocked. Had half a mind to ask if she meant it as a compliment… or? Then decided against it lest something got lost in translation… hehe!

In case you folks hadn't noticed already, humility is not one of my top virtues. Mind you, I appreciate it very much in others, and I wish I could embody it. But I am coming to think I am just not wired for it. I have a theory about why. I think it has to do with my innate propensity for honesty (which translates into honest evaluation of myself and others). If somebody asked me how good I am at sport X, I would simply say I am bad at sports in general. This one isn’t particular. What about maths? Not my strength at all. Am I being humble? Nope. Just honest. If someone asked me a question about something I know a fair amount about, but I am not confident enough, I'll qualify my opinion. Again, not being humble. Just honest. But in the same vein, when something happens to be in an area I have researched to death or when I believe I am right about something or my intuition strongly prompts me a particular way or I smell bullshit, I won't mince it. I will come across as arrogant maybe. But all I am is honest and earnest! Trouble is more people in the world admire humility (because it makes them feel better about themselves) than honesty (because it can be threatening to insecure people or bullshitters or the like). I am not saying humble people are dishonest—absolutely not. If they were, I wouldn't appreciate the quality myself. Though I make a distinction between the real humility and fake one. Like in all things. The really humble, as the saying goes, are actually great ;)

What I really love about genuine humility and what I wish I could cultivate more of is the detachment that comes with it. One is not attached to an estimation of oneself, estimation of others, estimation of one's knowledge or anybody else's or anything. There is an openness to judgment without judging anyone rigidly... I suppose it's very different from my strong attachment. There is a letting-go-ness to humility which I wish I had because attachment is pretty exhausting... But maybe there is something to be said for honesty, attachment, loyalty, and so forth too, even if it neither wins you popularity nor makes life easy.

Many years ago, when I was still working in India, I was looking to move to another job. I was in a bit of a dead-end, or so I felt, and I had this desperate desire to move. Maybe it was nothing more than the angst that comes out of being in the same place for many years, and seeing the last few people you knew, jump ship. I applied for a job in a different city. Now I am not sure why but at the time it felt like a perfect job. It was just a mid-level role, nothing fancy. I had my heart set on it though. I travelled to this city for the interview. It was one of the worst interview experiences I have ever had. There were 6-7 different interviews with different teams lined up for me through the day, starting with a written test at 8.00 am and ending with a phone interview at 8.30 pm with someone in the US. I was already disoriented because I had commuted to a far-away location in a different city early in the morning, but the relentless performances of the day pushed me to my limits. I remember as I was walking out of the premises later that night, the security person was surprised: he asked me if I didn't arrive very early that morning? It was one of those ‘kind words from a stranger’ moments, that’s why I still remember! I wasn’t just imagining this harrowing day.

I did not get the job. I remember crying. I don’t remember why I took it so badly. In hindsight, it wasn't such a great opportunity at all. But I think from my vantage point at the time, it seemed like one. Many times since then, over the years, I have looked back at this event to remind myself that what looks good may not be so good, what looks bad may turn out to be or lead to something better. That job would have taken me away from my family, my home, my city much earlier… and it wasn’t worth that at all. I was in a way lucky I didn’t get it! What I actually got after that was much more up my street in any number of ways. And though the step I took after that (to move to academia) was not directly connected to where I went, I somehow think one thing leads you to another in some way or the other. What is meant for one, comes to one. Later or sooner…

I am teaching 'reflective practice' these days. That's all I have been thinking about. How to get students to practice reflection? When I look back on my distant past, no one ever told me to reflect. Or showed me how to. I started reading as a kid. That's when it perhaps started. I enjoyed reading. Around the same time, I discovered my love of writing. Scribbling all sorts of things that came into my head in my 'diary' (I think I stopped the diary ritual only when I started this blog). The reading, writing, reflecting almost went hand in hand. Maybe I should add intensely pondering on experience? I remember reading chapters from the Bible (which was one big book of stories for me!) and writing my thoughts down. Or reading poems and copying my favourite lines. Or recording interesting quotes in a file. And so on. Turning them in my head, chewing them with my pen. Nobody ever told me to read or reflect or write or think or be critical or anything. Not at home, not in school, not in college. Our Indian education system wasn’t designed for that sort of stuff anyway. I was chastised rather for being 'argumentative' or always hanging out with books. Maybe writing was a way to talk about the things I was thinking about with myself... making sense of them. Once I discovered a love of this kind of thinking/talking by writing, I couldn't stop. Like a child who doesn't have to be told to love candy or ice cream. So how do I teach anyone to love it...? I can only expose them to it maybe...

I am conscious that the world I am referring to is a different world. Nobody may have told me anything or shown me anything but for a curious mind, all this was stimulation. These days with so much ready stimulation in the form of social media and what not, maybe kids do not have the space to explore for themselves these deeper joys, to focus on one thing like reading or to focus their thinking somewhere like writing or just to get to know one’s own thoughts.

An interesting analogy popped in my head. Reflecting is now like breathing for me, not like drinking water. You can forget to drink water or drink it from time to time. You don't forget to breathe... you don't even know you are breathing...