baali

Timothy Ferriss is an author, entrepreneur, blogger and television host. He’s best known as the 4-Hour guru who helped pioneer the ‘lifestyle design’ movement. This quote is taken from Ferriss’ first book, The 4-Hour Workweek, which I read when I was in the middle of my career change and helped motivate me to eventually start this website. The book teaches people to rethink the outdated idea of working a 9-5 job and to use today’s technology to find the perfect work/life balance.

Ferriss recently debuted his new TV show, The Tim Ferriss Experiment, where he applies his life-hacking rules to a number of different disciplines.

I was fortunate enough to meet Tim and contribute some illustrations to his latest book, The 4-Hour Chef. Here’s a blog post I wrote about it with some behind-the-scenes sketches.

RELATED COMICS Chris Guillebeau: 11 Ways to be Average. Terence McKenna: Nature Loves Courage.

- Zen Pencils was named one of PCMag’s top 100 websites of 2013!
- Yay, it’s finally the first comic of 2014. It’s taken me longer than I had planned to update the site again, but I’m happy to say my holiday really energised me for the year to come and I’ve already got a couple months worth of ideas for comics that I can’t wait to start drawing. Thanks for your patience.

"I thought I was raising independent children, but they’re 18 and 21 and I’m having trouble getting them to leave the nest. So I set a fall deadline. It’ll be tough but I’m going to stand firm: college, job corp, army, anything. I’m hoping that even if they fail, they’ll at least find out what they want to do. I want to help them. But I want to be their counselor, not their provider."

"I don’t know why I’m not able to throw myself 100% into things."

"What’s the scariest part about having a child?"
“He doesn’t think he can get hurt.”

Premchand (1880-1936) is not an author most of us pick up eagerly to read. This is a fall-out from having to study him in school, as part of Hindi literature. Dhanno said the other day, while watching part of ‘Bhagwan Dada’, “Why are they talking like characters from a Premchand story?” and she did not mean it as a compliment.

I began re-reading Premchand again, only a couple of years ago. Yes, his characters do tend to pontificate, about their ideology and beliefs, rather a lot, but I think that was pretty standard practice in most novel writing in those days.

What had me hooked first was a scene in ‘Nirmala’. Nirmala is a young girl, married off to a much older man, with 2 sons. Despite her understandable dislike of this relationship, she goes into the marriage determined to fulfill her duties. She likes little children and makes friends with her husband’s children, but her husband’s widowed sister, who lives with them, keeps indicating that she is a step-mother. At one point, Nirmala, as a mother, wants to scold and slap one of the boys, but holds back because she becomes conscious that she will be blamed for being a step-mother. It is a small moment, but leads to so many misunderstandings, and a growing distance between the family members that ends in break-ups, death and loneliness.

This scene also resonated with me, because I remember once, Teja scolding Dhanno, outside a restaurant. She was 6 or 7, we had barely started our relationship, she was being stubborn, and refusing to come off a toy horse, much after her stipulated share of rides. A close friend said to Teja, “It’s amazing how you scold her. I would be so frightened to do it, scared to upset her, scared of what she would think of me.” But Teja never treated Dhanno with kid gloves, and that had her accepting him without question.

Premchand also goes into great detail with each one of his characterizations. No one is black or white. At the most heroic moments, people have other thoughts racing in their minds, they are brave, but also petty, mean but also forthright, generous but also misguided, selfish and selfless, and everyone changes from time to time, growing, learning, affecting and being affected by not only each other’s actions, but also each other’s thoughts. The internal workings of Premchand’s characters is fascinating, particularly for any aspiring writer. I would recommend reading Premchand, only if to study development of character.

Through the other novels, it is this unfailing logic of events rising from small decisions, good and bad, small cowardices and misdemeanors, small resolutions and courage, that bind a whole world together. This fits into my own perspective of how life is, each one of us, each act, each thought inextricably linked with the other.

The novels I have read are, apart from ‘Nirmala’, ‘Premashram’, ‘Karmabhoomi’ and ‘Gaban’. ‘Premashram’ and ‘Karmabhoomi’ are the more difficult to get through, because they are also top-heavy with political ideology. ‘Gaban’ is quite an interesting tale of a weak, young man, fascinated by money, and all it can buy, and a wife who is naive enough not to question where the money is coming from, the chaos that unfolds because of this character flaw. However it leads to greater maturity and happiness for all in the end.

Another aspect of Premchand’s novels, is the women despite their traditional roles, are very strong, and often come to their senses much faster than the men.

I see in my own self, the continuous flow of thoughts. In my actions, when I am hurt, miserable, angry, envious, I often get carried away in the moment. When I am friendly, confident, bright, positive, I can see myself from the outside. And I can also hear a litany of thoughts in my mind, quite contrary to my outward behavior. This is a matter of my own temperament. And I guess all enlightenment comes through one or the other, to lose oneself in the moment, and to observe every moment, or rather a balance of both.

While you are at it, my review of Premashram.

Long Day

"Back in 1976, two hundred tall ships sailed into New York Harbor for an exhibition. Millions of people came to see it, and my boyfriend and I managed to get exclusive permission to print the programs. We sold them for $3 a piece, and at the end of the week, we had $750,000 in dollar bills piled up in our small studio apartment. It was absolutely thrilling."
“Are the two of you still together?”
“No, he took his half of the money and bought a farm upstate. I refused to go with him. But we’re still best friends.”
“So who came after that?”
“There were others. But I don’t currently have a steady, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

"He was away for almost four years during the war. When he wrote me letters, he was never allowed to tell me where he was. So he’d draw cartoons to help me guess."

First of all, Ban honking. Then Ban Dhoom themed car-reversing tunes. Ban car reversing tunes.

Ban anger-inducing annoying stupid speed breakers that exist in the middle of the road for no reason other than to make men impotent. Ban public display of middle finger by angry car drivers. Ban angry people from driving cars. Ban angry people from driving anything. Ban anger.

Ban unhealthy food. Actually don’t. But ban them from being eaten by children. Ban peas pulao and one-fourth naan at buffet lunches during all-day bullet point filled power point presentations. Ban power point presentations. Ban bullets.

Ban reality television for kids. Ban children from talking like grownups. Ban grownups from stealing children’s childhood. Ban anything that takes away childhood from children.

Ban preferential treatment to car owners in hotels. Ban discrimination against single people.

Ban ridiculous marketing campaigns asking men to shave in order to get laid. Ban asking men to shave. Ban anything except condoms that men have to buy so that they can get laid.

Ban full page real estate ads. Ban any kind of real estate ads.

Ban ridiculously expensive mineral water that claims to have Gold, Silver, Bronze, Diamond, Emerald, Ruby, Sun, Moon, Milky Way, Big Bang, God Particle in ultramicroscopisitical quantities. Ban fairness cream. Ban photoshopping wrinkles. Ban wrinkle free creams to get that perfect fake smile. Ban fake smiles.

Ban messing with the hair to get that messy look. Ban baldness curing solutions.

Ban playing with guilt by NGOs.

Ban people from walking around the room while brushing their teeth.

Ban people from talking on mobile phones in movie theaters. Ban interfering when others are speaking. Ban unproductive Parliament adjournments.

Ban plastic chairs.

Ban complicating discussions on sports and music by elitists. Ban complications. Ban elitism. Ban priority seats. Ban priority seats until I am given priority seats.

Ban ‘Caveat Emptor’.

Ban laughing at others’ misery. Ban misery.

Ban using money as a measure to define success. Ban using social status to define success. Ban defining success.

Ban goodbyes.

Ban linguistic barriers. Ban contempt to familiarity.

Ban patriotism as an excuse. Ban boundaries.

Ban people from taking themselves seriously. Ban taking language seriously. Ban grammar nazis. Ban intolerance. Ban hiding behind tradition. Ban confusing history textbooks with Future for Dummies.

This and all too much to ask. So Happy New Year.

"I want to be a ballerina."
“What’s going to be the best part about being a ballerina?”
“Spinning.”

Sometimes only a hug can make things right. A centering of the soul after a day spent out of sorts. I often look to tyke for this balance. Our routine is to get home from school, have a bite to eat and then cause mayhem – or “masti” as we call it. (He mostly converses in English but there are a few Marathi terms – like “masti” –  that bring out his impish smile; the realization of impending fun.) Masti-time is usually utter madness. I’ll tickle him, pin him down, he’ll try to do the same – I’ll lay claim to his feet or his neck and act like I’m eating them up. He’ll squeal with a mixture of terror, anger and delight. Five minutes have passed; they’ve effortlessly wiped out the preceding five hundred.

I know this can’t last forever. He’s growing up after all, and peer pressure arrives sooner than it did when I was young. The other day his mom tried to kiss him at the bus stop and he responded with an angry, embarrassed stare. He’s five.

I’ve loved holding him close since birth. In direct contravention of established Westernized parenting rules, he slept with us – cuddled between us in the center of the bed. This did result in sleepless nights for both of us when he cried out to be fed or changed, but it was worth it. In retrospect, it was totally worth it.

He still likes being held when he’s sad, angry or just wants to hang out. I savor these moments while I still can. Ruffling his hair, giving him a hug, kissing his cheek, using ridiculous terms of endearment – mish-mashed Marathi, English words and listening to his attempts at repeating them. Allowing me my moments of parental whimsy.

Strictly speaking for myself, a physical connection to my child is a huge part of being a dad. Especially since it’s not based on the same intrinsic depth as a connection between a mother and child. I think dads have to work harder to connect with their kids and it takes them a while to form that bond. With me it was mostly functional in the beginning – changing diapers, feeding, cleaning bottles, baths. It probably took a couple of years for tyke to stop thinking of me as the guy who hangs around and runs errands from time to time. My wife was a huge catalyst in pushing me to explore the different facets of my relationship with my son. As a first-time dad, it’s nerve-wracking and very puzzling. You love your child but you don’t know how to make it better, deeper. They don’t really communicate when they’re babies so the only thing you have is a physical connection. Holding him close, his smell, his baby breath, the feel of his tiny fist, the surprisingly strong grip on your finger, the babbling as he tries to tell you about his latest encounter with Elmo.

These days we have a lot to talk about; music, books, movies, cartoons, superheroes, Legos, sports. He’s a smart kid who loves taking in knowledge and new experiences. It’s easier to connect with him today, but I’m still loath to give up on our physical connection. Some days, work is relentless. The grind starts early at 6am with calls, carries on at work and I get home and continue working. Those days are the closest I get to feeling like a homicidal maniac. And yet, ever so often tyke will playfully approach, see that I’m busy and just give me a hug, sit with me for a couple of minutes and run off to play with his friend. I can’t really explain in words how important these moments are for my sanity.

A friend posted this amazing video about how we condemn our boys to live within the narrow confines of what defines masculinity. Be A Man, we tell them, while denying them the roadmap to empathy, kindness and cooperation.

This is a gateway to patriarchal attitudes based on a paradigm of invincibility and physical superiority. The video mentions many such triggers, one of them being a lack of closeness. Closeness does not make a boy more vulnerable, ”girly” or “sissy”. I sincerely believe it’s the best way for him to truly relate to his father and see him as a human being he’d like to emulate. Closeness teaches us empathy, love, kindness, the small but significant joy of sharing an unsullied, unhurried moment together.

I’ve noticed a visibly platonic distance between father and son at the morning bus stop. They’ll look at their kids indulgently, but continue to maintain a manly separation. I think that’s rubbish. I think they all just want to tightly hug their kids and wish them a great day at school and kiss them on both cheeks. And the forehead, and the nose, and the chin, and both ears…and…you get the point.

A few weeks ago I read the following post on a friend’s Facebook wall

“It’s a bit strange when you sneak into your 18 year old son’s room for the early morning kiss and caress while he is sleeping before I head off to work and then you see Plato and Aristotle books on his bed. He was reading that before he fell asleep. And then you think back all those years back when he would read noddy and Thomas the tank engine in that cute boyish piping tone. Whilst you’re proud and happy he has become a man reading philosophy, missing the memories of the little boy with twinkling eyes battle with the feelings.”

It made me very emotional. It also gave me hope – that there are fathers who truly understand the importance of demonstrating love and affection to their sons; that it’s normal to want to hug and kiss your son even when he’s eighteen. I used to be very embarrassed when my father would try to hug or kiss me in my teenage. Somehow you became less of a man when that happened. Of course, that’s utter rubbish. I’m much more demonstrative of my love for him today as a thirty-three year old, much to my dad’s amusement. I’ll be the one hugging him tightly and it surprises him, but I don’t care. I have a lot of false machismo and apathy to make up for.

For what it’s worth, my son’s going to have to put up with random kisses, hair ruffles and hugs, whether he likes it or not. I’m gong to sneak into his room and cuddle up with him in that tiny bed because the world will swallow me in the morning and I’ll miss seeing him.

I’m going to be a doting dad. I’m going to keep him close.