I am sitting in the OPD of a close friend from MBBS days. He is a very competent and astute Physician, let’s call him ND. I have been meaning to consult him for quite a few days, but could never find the time to do so. I have not been feeling well of late, and many people have commented that I was looking off-colour. Even I have noticed that not only my mood, but also my skin looks darker.

Today, a surgery got postponed, and I got free earlier than expected, so I finally landed up at ND’s clinic. We are meeting after many days and have chai and chat for some time before we become doctor and patient.

Me: My skin looks darker, and I have been finding these dark stains on my shirts sometimes and even on the bedsheets, for the last few months now. It is almost as if there is some fine dark powder on my skin.

ND leans forward. The clinician in him is now interested.

ND: What sort of stains? Blood stains?

Me: No, no! Just some dark smudges here and there. I see them on my handkerchief also, after wiping my face sometimes. At first, I thought it was the fine cement dust from that Metro slab fabrication unit across my house. But then I noticed that it happens the whole day, even when I am not at home.

I wipe my face and show him. There is a grey smudge on the cloth.

Now he is very interested.

ND: You look somewhat tanned. Are you out in the sun a lot?

Me: Are you joking, bhai? I am rarely out of the OT and OPD on most days. I don’t remember when I last saw the sun.

ND: Did you just take a vacation?

Me: Not recently, no! We do go on vacations to all touristy places during the kids’ holidays. The only problem then is that there are crowds everywhere. But we make it a point to see all attractions and do all possible activities wherever we go. The trip has to be full paisa vasool. But I often come back more tired than before.

ND: Any other symptoms?

Me: Yes! I’m gaining weight, losing hair, losing my temper and my sanity, and I also feel tired and lethargic most of the time. I don’t even feel like getting up on most mornings!

ND: Then sleep late on some days…

Me: Arre, what sleep late? Even if I am just 10 minutes late on some day, the OT staff and Anesthesia chaps start calling up. And frankly, starting late screws up my entire schedule later in the day. I start my day rushing, always racing against the clock. I fear that one day I may dash my car into someone on the way to work.

ND: How’s work?

Me: Hectic mostly. Running from one place to the other, seeing patients, operating, with the bloody phone ringing all the time.

ND: Operate a little less and get some more rest, then. And switch off the phone.

Me: Not possible! Too many commitments. And switching off the phone is impossible.

ND: What do you do in your free time?

Me: What do you mean by free time?

ND: Say, when you are in the hospital but not operating or seeing patients…

Me: Then I worry about the staff salaries, the new instrument purchase, repairs of old equipment and the hospital loan EMIs.

ND: And when you are free at home… What do you do then?

Me: That is when I worry about the kids’ college fees and the home loan EMIs.

ND: I see! And if I may ask, how are things between you and the Missus?

Me: Well, the Sensex is mostly more interesting, if you know what I mean….

ND: Do you and the Missus spend quality time together? You know, like going for walks, or long drives or maybe to the movies, without the kids?

Me: Yes, sometimes. We went to see a movie recently. The hero was that eccentric chap, what’s his name? Randhir or Ranbir or something..

ND: How was it?

Me: Don’t know. I was getting phone calls and replying to messages most of the time.

ND: Do you have your meals on time?

Me: I have my meals when I get time. The timings are not fixed. Sometimes I have lunch at 11 am and on some days, at 5 pm. You know how it is, na?

ND: And what about exercise?
Me: What about exercise?

ND: I mean, do you exercise regularly?
Me: I just told you na, I am running around here and there the whole day!

ND: Do you do any cardio, weight training, or yoga? Have you tried Pilates?

Me: What’s Pilatays? Some new restaurant?

ND: Never mind! Do you have any hobbies? Or something you like to do to de-stress?

Me: Yes! If I operate more, I think I will be less stressed.

ND: But what if there is a complication?

Me: Then I will be more stressed!

ND: So, if you operate more, you will be less stressed, but then the complications may increase, and then you will be more stressed. Right?

Me: It doesn’t sound very intelligent when you put it that way.

ND: Never mind.

Me: Why are you asking me all this useless stuff? I am worried that I may be having some fancy syndrome or some occult malignancy. I googled my symptoms, and even Google and ChatGPT are not sure what it is. Now I am even more worried. Do you have any idea what is happening?

ND: Yes, I think I do.

Me: What is happening? Why is my skin darkening and leaving stains on my clothes and bedsheets?

ND: It is not cancer or some exotic disease, you idiot! It is ash! Can’t you see that you are burning out!

“Turn right in 200 metres!” The Google Maps Didi was very categorical about the right turn. I had to turn right in 200 meters. There was no right turn. There was a house. But who was I to argue with the all-knowing Google? I drove my car into the compound, almost killing their cat. Luckily, I stopped just in time and did not ram into their door. The door was saved, but nothing would grow in those flower beds for years to come. The soil was going to be too traumatised on seeing how my car had massacred the plants. The homeowner came out in a huff. Understandably, he was not amused. On the contrary, he looked positively pissed off and also held a very stout-looking stick in his hand. All plans to get out and apologise were cancelled immediately. I hurriedly reversed my car and ran in the exact opposite direction of what Maps Didi told me.

Nowadays, it is customary to switch on Google Maps the moment you set off for a new destination, and many times even if you are going somewhere you have gone before too. We do not want to use even the few brain cells it takes to remember the route. It is so much easier to switch on Maps and let it spoon-feed us every detail. Even zombies are better than us. In every zombie movie I have seen, they at least have an idea of where they are going, and seem to manage to reach there without Google Maps or GPS.

The whole animal kingdom (which has no formal education and cannot read or write) is full of animals and birds that migrate hundreds and thousands of kilometres and manage to reach their destination correctly each and every time, year after year. On the other hand, we Homo sapiens, the most evolved and technologically advanced species on the planet, sit in our cars like brain-dead dodos and just follow the instructions of the stupid Maps Didi.

As long as you are in a city or town, Maps is precise and fairly accurate, like an engineer. But the moment you are in a remote area, then Google Maps becomes an artist and starts taking creative liberties. Depending upon Didi’s mood on that day, you may reach within 100 metres of your destination or 20 km away. Sometimes, you start getting the feeling that the Maps Didi is actively plotting to kill you.

Many years ago, we decided to drive down to a disappointing place called Wilson Hill, about a 100 kms from where I stay. I had a vague idea of where to exit the highway, after which I turned to Google Maps for guidance. Till we were on main roads, the instructions were fairly accurate. After we left the main roads and the narrow rural roads started, the instructions became a little dicey.

Being completely enslaved by technology, never for a minute did I think of stopping and asking a local for directions. Finally, Didi told us to turn right onto a fairly narrow road. Now things were very tricky. Though there was no sign of Wilson, the hill had definitely started. And the road was too narrow for 2 cars to pass. Not for a second did I stop to think that the road to a reasonably well-known tourist stop is unlikely to be so narrow. Being a complete slave of technology, I blindly followed Didi. Then came the last instruction: “After 100 metres, your destination is on the left”.

After a 100 metres or so, I looked left and there was only a steep slope going down. I looked down the slope. Maybe Wilson was standing somewhere down the slope. Nope! There was only a slope, no Wilson! Maybe Maps wanted me to jump off the mountainside. Sorry Didi! It was not happening today.

Then I thought that maybe she was dyslexic, and I tried to turn right, but on the right there was an equally steep mountainside. The option was either jumping off the slope or climbing the mountainside. I began to count the advantages of jumping off. I was definitely not going to climb a mountain!

The only road was forward. I moved on, and the moment I found some space, I turned around and drove back to the main road. Once there, I did the smartest thing in my life: I asked a local chap on a 2-wheeler for directions to Wilson Hill.

We have forgotten the good old, time-tested technique of stopping and asking a local pedestrian, a shopkeeper or a panwala for directions. Technology is the new God, and we are the blind believers who have given up common sense in exchange for convenience. Trust me, in the next few years, kids will be using Google Maps even to reach the toilet.

Once, an acquaintance invited me to the inauguration of his new office. It was in a part of the city which I had rarely ever gone to. True to form, I loaded Google Maps, entered the address and started navigation. After some time, I was blindly following Maps Didi in an area which I had never visited before. After an hour, Didi finally announced: “You have reached your destination. Your destination is to the right”. I parked a little further ahead and stepped out.

There was a white vehicle in front of the gate from which people were carrying out a dead body. I looked at the board. Instead of Shri Ram Society, Google had brought me to Shri Ram Crematorium.

I leaned back on the bonnet of my car and watched the body being taken inside for the last rites.

I was no longer angry or frustrated with the Maps Didi.

For a change, Google Maps had brought me to the correct spot.

Though not today, this was certainly the final destination!

Today, I am feeling very dejected. One by one my old friends have started leaving me. These are not just someone who I met recently. They have been with me ever since I can remember. We have been together since childhood, literally never apart for a minute.

But it was inevitable, I guess. I turned 50 this year, and it was probably just a matter of time when this started happening. Age eventually catches up and this was bound to happen one day.

Just like everyone feels that accidents happen to others only, this is also something which nobody feels will happen to them. But as we say in Hindi “Honi ko kaun taal sakta hai”? (who can avoid destiny?).

And at this age, someone who was there yesterday will suddenly not be there today, leaving behind a vacant spot. Everyone knows that it can happen to anyone, but still it feels unexpected when it happens to you.

These are the fellows who were with me forever. I could never imagine a day when we would be separated or away from each other. I have cared for them and nurtured them through good times and bad. I have also spent time and money and the best that science had to offer in an attempt to save some of them. I have spent all the ups and downs of my life with them. And suddenly, they have departed. They are no longer there with me. The vacant spot they leave behind in is heartbreaking.

The premature loss is probably because of advancing age and an unhealthy lifestyle. And yes, stress! Stress is a big problem and can affect all aspects of your mental and physical well-being. But whatever the reason, once they are gone, they are gone. We all know deep inside our hearts that they will never come back. No matter how much we wish or how hard we pray, the empty space they leave behind will never be filled.

But still, I cannot come to terms with reality. I try to console myself, but my sadness cannot be eased.

They are gone forever.

Nothing will ever replace them.

Why did they have to go so early?

Why did they have to leave before I did?

I stand in front of the mirror and stare at the bald spot on my head.

I never imagined that hair fall and balding could be so traumatic!

The difference between a curious and enthusiastic 5-year-old and an uninterested and bored 17-year-old is 12 years of formal education.

The Western world realised the importance of free thought and innovation and now leads the world in science and technology. This happened, in spite of the fact that traditionally the West was a less permissive culture, where free thought and new ideas were often met with resistance from the establishment. To make my point, I fall back upon some examples from the history and mythology of the East and the West.

When Adam and Eve became curious about a fruit which was forbidden, and took a bite, they were punished and banished from Eden. And this was the couple from whom humankind eventually spawned. Curiosity was not at all welcome! When Galileo came out in support of Copernicus’ theory that the Earth moved around the sun and not the other way round, he was prosecuted for heresy by the Church. He was forced to apologise for his views, which were considered blasphemous at that time. This same culture evolved and later gave us men like Leonardo Da Vinci, Newton, and Einstein, who understood that “the important thing was to never stop questioning”.

On the contrary, ancient Indian culture was much more willing to accept the new and the unconventional. When Hanuman, as a child, became inquisitive about the Sun and rushed towards it to eat it, he was initially hit by Indra and pushed back. But eventually, he was rewarded with extraordinary strength by Surya, the Sun God himself and granted the boon of immortality by Indra, among other boons by other Gods. Historically, we welcomed scholars and travellers from foreign lands, who represented different cultures. Huen Tsang, Megasthenes, Ibn Batuta, Marco Polo and Vasco Da Gama are just some of the foreigners who came to India and whose views and stories have been incorporated into our history thereafter. This civilisation, which valued free thought and welcomed questions and new ideas, has degraded into one where now, a good student is the one who imbibes information quietly and does not ask too many questions. Any student who is too inquisitive is often labelled as a troublemaker by teachers and over smart by other students.

Our education system and otherwise internet-savvy society collectively refuse to admit that the same information is now readily available to everyone within seconds. What will differentiate the educated from the uneducated is their ability to apply the knowledge, the capability to solve problems, to innovate and create.

Even at home, we rarely nurture the inquisitiveness in our children. It’s a fact that we do not have enough time or patience to answer their silly questions. Their questions may sound silly to us, but are probably momentous to them. We all remember growing up and asking questions to adults, which were never answered satisfactorily. And whenever we asked the grown-ups for an explanation, the reply would mostly be “because I say so”! When this happened a number of times, the child would realise that it was pointless to ask questions, and curiosity would slowly die away.

Recently, in a public forum, Minister Piyush Goyal lamented the lack of fresh ideas in our newer start-ups. To paraphrase him, there are few fresh thoughts or innovations which aim to solve the problems of the future. What we have instead are just glorified ‘dukaandars’ (shopkeepers) who are just remixing old ideas and selling them in newer packaging. Someone is making healthy cakes and ice creams while others are delivering groceries in 10 minutes. While these ideas are profitable and contribute to improving the economy and generating employment, they are just another way of selling or delivering the same old things, or in other words: ‘dukaandari’. The cutting-edge innovation and the ideas which may become the Microsoft, the Apple or the Tesla of tomorrow are woefully missing.

While his statements mostly ring true, it is just a reflection of how our system has faltered. From the primary school level itself, free thinkers are side lined. Lateral thinking is not incentivised. On the contrary, students who can master rote learning are encouraged and rewarded. Regurgitation of texts and information is what gets the marks. Examiners are given exemplars of how a question should be answered. If done in any other way, marks have to be deducted. So, even if an examiner really likes an unconventionally written answer, he or she may be forced to give it fewer marks, because the system demands it.

A student who does not conform to conventional rules may be ridiculed or even punished. Anybody who tries to think differently is cast aside, and we all know that our society is not very kind to such people. Ideas, dreams and hope are killed in a single stroke.

If they were students in India today, Archimedes would have been given a zero in Maths and made to stand outside the class. And Newton would have been sent to consult a doctor to check if the apple had caused brain damage. When Leeuwenhoek saw something on the slides under his magnifying lenses, his teacher would have scolded him for fooling around and not cleaning the slides properly. And the penicillin dish would have been thrown into the incinerator, and Fleming would have been sent to pick up his PhD guide’s children from school.

While we are acutely aware of the problem, like most of us, even I do not have a solution. But it is true that our education system and our society have failed miserably in this aspect.

Every time a child is stopped from getting his hands dirty or prevented from pushing a plate or glass to the floor, we are aborting an experiment, a real life learning experience. It is the loss of a chance to learn something new.

All that we finally expect from them is to get marks and crack some entrance exam.

It would not be wrong to say that the CAT killed curiosity.

So did NEET and JEE!

Once upon a time, conferences used to be events where people went to learn and upgrade their knowledge and skills. Meeting old friends and colleagues, mini-reunions, and get-togethers were a bonus that used to happen in the free time in the evenings.

Then Covid struck, and turned the world of academics upside down.

Physical conferences became impossible. So how would doctors remain updated and informed? Webinars were the obvious solution. Urologists (and doctors in general) were starved of work and fed up with Netflix and most began attending webinars just to overcome the boredom and to take a break from sweeping and mopping the house.

But Indians are not known for moderation. Once people got the hang of webinars, there was a literal flood. There was a webinar happening every weekend, then on weekdays and soon there were two or even three webinars happening simultaneously, every weekend. The inevitable happened: normal people grew bored of webinars. No matter where you went, the same people were speaking the same thing like on the TV news debates, but with more civilised and polite participants.

Then physical conferences restarted and soon became lavish events in luxurious 5-star hotels and resorts. The focus shifted to the venue, food and liquor. To be fair and true, even I prefer the venue to be in a high-end hotel. I feel that I’ve earned that break. Most of us do.

About a year in advance, the ‘unbelievably early bird’ registration starts. After a month or so, it is changed to the ‘very early bird’ category. A few weeks later, the conference organisers start posting messages about the deadline for the “very early bird” registrations. After 33rd Sept, it will become the ‘quite early bird’ and the charges will increase. Then it changes to ‘early bird’, ‘on time bird’, ‘almost late bird’, ‘just a little late bird’, with the organisers constantly expounding the benefits of registering early. Finally, a few days before the actual event, it becomes the ‘very late bird, but it’s ok, we need the money’ category.

The conference promotion starts about 5 to 6 months in advance. For the next 6 months, the organisers try to entice people to register for the event because they can visit a famous temple nearby, or some exotic caves about a 100 km away, or take a direct flight from the host city to Kathmandu and go trekking in the Himalayas. The available attractions keep on increasing as the days pass. There is a food street, or a small tea shop which is famous for its rude and abusive owner, and a sunset point, which is also a popular suicide destination. If you are lucky, you may actually be able to see someone jumping off!

There is a query: what will the spouses and kids do? Well, the organisers have planned a very family-friendly event, the spouses and kids will be well taken care of. For the kids, we have hired special nannies who will make sure that the pesky rascals don’t disturb you, even if the nannies have to beat the bejesus out of them. How will you learn if you are constantly disturbed by the bratty kids?

And the spouses? Oh, don’t worry! We have a range of activities for them: cooking classes with Gordon Ramsey (where, for once, somebody will give them a true feedback on what their cooking actually tastes like), music and singing classes with Dhinchak Puja and Chahat Fateh Ali Khan and as a bonus, we have also called Rahul Gandhi to hold a training session on public speaking. Then there will be guided tours of textile showrooms, the chat-pakoda street, the hookah bars and the jewellery shops. As a special offer, the local jewellers have promised to quote double rates and then reduce them by 5% as a ‘special’ conference discount. And after all this, if they are still bored, we will arrange for someone to jump off from the sunset point. Just remember to have your phones fully charged and the Insta filters ready! It will be literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (someone else’s lifetime, of course)!

The sports events start a day before the actual conference and there is generally cricket, table tennis, badminton, running, and chess. Mud wrestling would be an interesting sport to watch, I opine in a mail to the organisers. They ask me to come early and organise the game. I politely refuse. Do they think I am free and have no work? I will be engaged in a sleeping marathon at that time. I am a committed and focused player and don’t have time for stupid games like mud slinging or pig wrestling or whatever it was.

When the actual conference begins, the delegates start pouring in and milling around the registration desks. There is a lot of camaraderie, hugging and back-slapping as old friends meet. Most delegates become younger by 10–15 years, the moment they step into the conference zone and meet old friends and acquaintances. After some time, the crowds move from the registration desks to the tea and coffee counters. Then somebody reminds everyone else that there are some lectures going on inside the halls, which may be helpful, if attended. Everyone finds this funny and has a hearty laugh and the chai pe charcha continues, regardless.

There is another species seen strutting round in the hallways: the ‘faculty’ members. These organisms are seen hopping from hall to hall, wearing their worthless ‘faculty’ badges of a different colour. They flit around, delivering rehashed lectures which nobody pays any attention to anymore. They are known to deliver the same lecture, on the same topics, at every webinar or conference, and now have even given up the pretence and use the same slides over and over again. Even the lame jokes and the stale punch lines are the same. These are the high and mighty of the academic brigade, who have been sent by the almighty to dispense their limitless wisdom to the poor, untrained, and inexperienced masses. Most of them are regular guys like you and me, once they get off the podium. But then, there are also the pretentious, egoistic chaps who are extremely offended the moment someone questions their methods or results.

There are also the social media heroes who have their own WhatsApp groups, YouTube channels, blogs, websites and FB live sessions. They move around everywhere with someone or the other taking photographs. They are the self-proclaimed king of something (laparoscopy or stone surgery or cardiac something or whatever) and constantly bombard everyone with their heroic surgical exploits and how they saved some patient who any other doctor would have definitely killed. The moment they get off the stage after their lecture or paper is presented, their social media status is updated with this ‘achievement’ and the whole world is informed that the great doctor has delivered a talk and enlightened less worthy doctors on some topic. These guys wouldn’t understand the meaning of humility if it were given to them as an iv drip or an enema.

The lecture halls mostly consist of the session convenor, the speakers, the chairpersons, the AV guys and some election candidates. Come to think of it, the social media dons should contest in elections. Elections have this magical power to convert the biggest egoists into humble chaps who politely keep requesting everyone to vote for them. The election candidates will congratulate the speaker, ask a question after every talk, make a point, or share their own experience, but will disguise it as a question.

There is one hall which is always full: the finance session. After Covid, almost all conferences have started a session on managing finances. Doctors used to be and many still continue to be woefully incompetent in managing money. It is a sad reality that this is one of the most heavily attended sessions, in what was originally an academic event.

The main attraction of the conference is often not the academics, but the ‘gala dinner’ and the live performance by a famous singer. In addition, there may also be a talk by a cricketer, an IAS chap, some minister, a motivational speaker, a mountain climber, a deep sea diver, or a circus clown.

The days begin early, and some health freaks attend yoga classes, go running or cycling in the morning and reach back in time to attend the sessions also. They torture themselves in the name of health, while the peaceful and contented souls like me laze around in our warm and comfortable beds and reach the conference venue late, or sometimes don’t reach at all.

The days rush by and friends depart, taking along with them fond memories and planning to meet again in the next zonal or national or some other conference. The commonest promise is “If you are coming there, then I will also plan”!

All the nonsense and jokes exchanged in the corridors are remembered, all the gyaan gained in the halls is immediately forgotten. The 15 or 20 years, which had been lost earlier, are regained as soon as the return flight or train is boarded.

Finally, the event is over. Now is the time to formally appreciate and thank the organisers and the office bearers on the WhatsApp groups. Even here, the election candidates are at the forefront in their effusive praise. Words like “academic feast”, “excellent venue”, “wonderful hospitality”, “delicious food”, “superlative arrangement” are showered upon the organisers (and are mostly well deserved also). Late in the night, one of the tired and over-stressed organisers finally posts a well-crafted, politically correct, message, making sure to thank everyone, including God, Donald Trump and the past, present and future presidents and office bearers of the society for the success of the event.

After this, the group goes silent and everyone gets back to their lives.

The fun and games are over, and everyone has to get back to work.

Till the next conference, of course.

For which one has already registered as a “prematurely early bird” in this conference itself!

According to ‘Game Theory’, a zero-sum game is a situation where one participant’s gain is directly equivalent to another participant’s loss. It’s a competitive scenario. Success for one party necessitates a corresponding loss for another. The “value” or prize being competed for (e.g., money, property, votes) is seen as a fixed quantity that can’t be increased or decreased. [Source: Google Baba].

On the recommendation of my friend, Rajan Sharma, I recently read ‘The Almanack Of Naval Ravikant’ by Eric Jorgenson, where I read about another concept: the positive-sum game. It led to this train of thought. [It’s a very good book. I recommend reading it too!]

As opposed to a zero-sum game, a positive-sum game means that all participants can get more and prosper, without reducing the others’ share. There is no fixed amount or property which has to be divided. The rewards can keep on increasing as the participants progress. If someone earns more, it is not at the expense of anyone else’s earnings. All partners or participants can gain without any of the others losing.

Zero-sum partners see the results or gains as a fixed amount. They think that they will get less if you get more. Thus, instead of raising the bar and trying to achieve more, you end up competing with your own partner to get a bigger share of the existing, fixed income or resource.

Find partners who have a positive outlook. Partners with a zero-sum attitude have decided that the end result or reward being chased is finite, and think that they will get less if you get more. Thus, instead of trying to raise their goals, they end up competing to get more out of a fixed endpoint or income. People with a positive-sum attitude see how they can team up with others and how all can grow together. They keep looking for positive-sum people to partner with.

The zero-sum guys may start off well, but they have already subconsciously decided their limitations, and so, they will never progress beyond a certain limit. They are trying to get more from a fixed resource, and the only way they can do it is by making others get less. The positive-sum guys think about how everyone can collaborate and grow. They are not bothered that their partners are earning equally or better than them because they are also earning enough, which, in all probability, is more than the zero-sum guys.

The zero-sum guys are insecure. The positive sum guys are secure. They do not envy other people, nor do they become insecure seeing others prosper.

The zero-sum guys want to do better than the others. They are in a race which they have to finish first, to get more of the reward. The positive sum guys want to just do better and do not compete with their partners or other participants. And in doing that, they exceed everyone’s expectations, even their own. These people are not bothered if someone else is doing better than they are, and are secure and satisfied.

In life and in business, look for positive-sum people. They are force multipliers. The zero-sum guys are force dividers.

Nobody is perfect, but this same fact is utilised or manipulated differently by different people. The zero-sum guys will try to take advantage of their partners’ faults or deficiencies to increase their gains. The positive-sum guys will often cover up for their partners’ deficiencies while at the same time realising that they too aren’t perfect. They allow their partners to do things which they themselves are not good at, and thus, the positive attributes of both (or more) partners supplement each other. The effect of this is often not additive, but multiplicative.

Unfortunately, many of us are zero-sum guys. We know how to compete to get a larger share of the existing pie (or pizza or paratha or uttapam!). The positive-sum people, when they are lucky enough to find others like them, are the ones who grow exponentially. They build the big brands and the big institutions. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak were two positive-sum guys who gave the world Apple!

With zero-sum partners, you lose money as well as peace of mind.

With positive-sum partners, you gain peace of mind and prosper as well.

In life, in love and in business, one must always look for partners with a positive-sum attitude.

Choose wisely!

I turned fifty this year.

People my age are nowadays referred to as ‘middle-aged’.

That’s cute! But rather absurd!

How many 100-year-olds do you see around, to be calling a 50-year-old middle-aged?

Whatever the case may be, most doctors are at the prime of their careers around fifty. Workloads and family responsibilities are both at a peak around this time.

I have a friend in the IT industry who actually retired 2 years ago. But, for me, retirement is nowhere on the visible horizon of life. Most doctors never retire. They either remain active and one day drop dead at work. Or they gradually fade away as their faculties become blunted. Yes, patients do notice when a Physician’s attention wavers and a Surgeon’s hands start trembling.

Some time ago, we were discussing ‘middle-age’, finances and retirement on a WhatsApp group. The discussion went something like this:

A: Retirement is problematic if taken in a literal way, which generally means not working at all. Right now we are working for money.

B: But if we become financially independent, then work comes without the added baggage of stress. That’s when you really start enjoying what u do. That is how retirement should be, ideally. One can keep working without the tension of earning.

A: Then you can work till the last breath and not feel the strain at all. The key is not to work for money. Your finances should be sorted before 50. After 50, you should not need to work for money.

Me: Sorting out finances by 50? Not having to work for money after 50? One doesn’t even realise when one turns 50. At least I didn’t!

The age of 50 does not fall upon you like Thor’s hammer or Obelix’s punch. It descends slowly, like dark clouds gathering before a storm. You do not realise what is happening till it has become quite dark and the rumbling has started. That is what ageing is like, a developing storm!

I agreed with the viewpoint of my friend (who, as you would expect from his naivety, is also much younger than I am) that one should not have to work for money after 50. I reviewed my finances and saw that they were lagging behind my age by around 20 years, but I heeded his advice and stopped working for money.

I did not pay my staff the next month. There was a revolt. They surrounded me and started singing ‘Bella Ciao’! I told them that I am no longer working for money as I am now 50. They said that that was my problem, and they were still in their thirties. That made sense, and I paid up their salaries. I also told them that they were out of tune and needed to take singing classes. I got some very malevolent looks.

I then stopped paying my phone, electricity and gas bills. When the company people called, I tried explaining to them that I was now 50 and so ……… but they threatened to disconnect my phone, electricity and gas lines. I requested to talk to any senior chap who was in his fifties, but they wouldn’t connect me to anyone who could understand my middle-aged point of view. Finally, I had to pay off their bills too. I can live without electricity for some time, but if the internet were to get disconnected, my kids would also revolt and start waving black flags in front of me. Frankly, all these companies need to hire some experienced fellows at their call centres. These young chaps have no respect at all for seniors.

Next, I tried to explain the 50-year-old wala funda to the petrol pump guy, after he had filled up my car’s petrol tank. I can never post his reply on a family-friendly forum.

I now tried to get my kirana shop guy to give me groceries for free. He was definitely in his fifties. So I tried to convince him also to stop working for money. He gave me a strange look and immediately told his Chhotu to run and close the door. Then he snatched back all my groceries. This was again accompanied by lots of colourful language, which is best not reproduced here.

Despite all these setbacks, I still did not lose hope. Unfortunately for the others around me, I don’t lose hope easily. Over tea the next day, I suggested to my better half that I was thinking of stopping paying the school and college fees for our daughters. She very politely asked whose great idea this was. Not wanting to let my friend “A” take the credit, I told her that it was my original idea, and she must feel so proud of marrying a brilliant fellow like me! I would rather not go into the details of the conversation which followed. Needless to say, I quietly paid off the school and college fees without making a fuss.

In fact, I went a step further and asked the school chaps if they also wanted the next year’s fees in advance. They declined and disconnected the call. I called again and insisted. They again declined and disconnected. I called again. Now they said that they would have gladly accepted my offer, but I had probably forgotten that my daughter was in 12th grade and would not be in the school the next year. And could I please stop pestering them now, as they had work to do! I tried asking the person on the phone if she was fifty years old, but she disconnected the call again.

While I agree with my friend in principle that one’s finances should be sorted by the time one turns 50, life in general seems to disagree completely with me. At the magic figure of 50, the home loan EMI still has to be paid, the bloody school and college still expect their fees on time, the ungrateful staff want to be paid to work and living without electricity and internet would be quite unpleasant. Half of humanity would not have bowel movements if their wifi were disconnected. In addition, loss of wifi is also likely to cause severe withdrawal symptoms, psychosis and a very real risk of becoming re-connected with reality. I can manage the withdrawal, psychosis and constipation, but I don’t think that I will be able to deal with reality any longer!

The internet is a dangerous place. One must post very carefully, because one’s stupidity and oversmartness will both remain online forever. And my friends, trust me, because of your brilliant advice, I have also learnt a lot of colourful language which I will put to good use the day you turn ‘middle-aged’!

So, my friendly advice to my young “friends”: you will also be turning 50 in another ten years.

And on that day, a vengeful 60-year-old will be waiting, ready to ask you how turning 50 feels.

And about the state of your finances.

And he will remind you buggers, of all the idealistic and impractical advice you gave him, which has been preserved forever in WhatsApp chats..

I will wait, with a grudge, ready with some very vicious comments!

And a very colourful vocabulary!

Just you wait!

Over the last decade, I have been invited to various conferences to deliver talks and participate in debates and panel discussions. I usually readily accepted the invites and considered them as a recognition of my expertise and experience. I had again gone to deliver a couple of such talks at a conference recently.

My talk is scheduled immediately after the lunch break. As I stand behind the podium, I see the largely empty hall and the vacant seats. Just a few people are there: the speakers for this session, the speakers and chairpersons for the next session, the audiovisual guys and a few election candidates looking for someone to pounce upon, for canvassing. Most of the people for whom we are ostensibly speaking are still in the lunch area, enjoying the sumptuous food and the uninhibited company of friends. I deliver my talk with all the sincerity that it deserves. A friend clicks a few photos of me on the stage, which I am expected to post on social media later (but I never do). I begin to wonder. There is hardly anyone here to hear my pearls of wisdom. Who am I doing all this for? Definitely, it is not for the audience, because there is none. I am doing it for myself. To prove to myself that I still matter, that I am still relevant.

Every year, our professional society holds elections for various posts. All the candidates go into overdrive, asking for votes and marketing themselves on social media. Most regular members, like myself, wonder what they will gain by winning elections. I mean, life is so busy and complicated anyway.

Are they just doing it to satisfy their egos?

What is their motivation for adding this complication to their lives?

What are the election candidates doing all this annoying campaigning for?

To ‘serve’ the society?

To look after your (and my) interests and concerns?

Bovine excreta!

They are also doing it just to try to stay relevant.

Life is challenging enough in most ways, juggling family and work and finances, more so in the so-called ‘middle-age’. So many people go overboard on social media broadcasting to the world, their each and every movement and activity. A lot of them may be narcissists and egoists, but the massive marketing on social media is not just a means of propagating your name. It is more of a sign of insecurity. A heavy social media presence is just a sign that a person is not secure with what he is, and he is just trying to tell the world that he matters.

Some people market their hobbies in the same way. Let’s be clear: hobbies are for yourself. When one does reading, singing, dancing or writing as a way to spend one’s time, it is a hobby. But when these evolve into performances and publications, they no longer remain hobbies. They are an announcement and appeal to the world that “ I exist, I matter, look at me, acknowledge me”.

The same holds true for speakers at conferences. Most speakers are either trying to assuage their own egos or just trying to remain relevant. Election candidates for professional societies (like associations of doctors) are also just trying to remain relevant. Trying to stay in the limelight is just a way of proving your worth to yourself. The movie stars, the election candidates, the middle-aged singers and dancers, and the writers are not trying to display their skills to the world. They are just trying to get the world to notice them.

In Douglas Adams’ masterpiece “Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy”, there is a character called Ford Prefect, who has been sent by the Galactic Council to survey the Earth and report back about its suitability as a galactic tourism destination. After many years of travelling and enjoying life on Earth, he just describes the Earth in the Guide just as “Mostly Harmless”. The hero, Arthur Dent, is shocked and disappointed that this is all that there is to say about this great planet with billions of people and centuries of civilisations. This is the author’s very witty way of saying that in the larger scheme of things, we hardly matter.

All the hype and hoopla, the lectures, the social media posts, the media marketing, the elections and the professional rivalries, everything will not amount to much. When we are gone, we will probably be remembered only as “a good doctor”, “a nice person”, “a nice chap”, or something similar. That is all that our lifetime’s worth of experiences and work, and struggles will be worth.

In the footnotes of history, most of us will be categorised as “slightly relevant”.

Or, as Douglas Adams would have put it, we will all finally just be “mostly harmless”.

NOTE: When a hypothetical, overweight, middle-aged individual, who has given up struggling with weight loss and is busy working all day to secure his family’s future, starts writing blogs and books, he is probably just trying to convince himself that his life also has some meaning. When some of the posts are appreciated and liked, it just keeps up the illusion that he may also be slightly relevant!

It is Navratri time in Gujarat. The nights are alive with loud music and revelry. DJs and singers belt out traditional garba songs, and young and old people move rhythmically to the tunes.

I am not a garba type. It is too structured and orderly for my taste. I am more of a bhangra person. Bhangra allows more freedom of expression with much less restrictions on how you should move your limbs or torso. There is no right way, and there is no wrong way. You can do whatever you want, and it counts as a dance move; the more vigorous, the better. If the same were attempted in a garba circle, it would cause chaos, cursing and fights.

But I am going off track. Today’s article is not about the dance, it’s about the music.

I sit at home tapping away on my laptop, getting distracted in between by YouTube Shorts and WhatsApp chats. I can hear the loud music playing from at least 3 garba venues in the vicinity. Every day, the singers sing or the DJs play the same songs, over and over again. Sometimes, the same song is played many times over on the same night. I wonder why people don’t get bored of listening to the same stuff all over again.

I ask the Missus if the garba revellers may be getting bored of listening to the same songs over and over again.

Do they look like they are bored, she asks me.

It doesn’t appear so; they are dancing away happily, I observe. It must be some mental problem to listen to the same song so many times and not get bored, I opine.

Do you remember our last road trip to Ahmedabad, she asks me.

Of course, I do! It took us 7 hours instead of the usual 5 because of all the construction work on the highways, I recall, as I curse Nitin Gadkari silently.

And… she says, leaving a very pregnant and very dangerous pause.

And what? As usual, I miss the cue.

And I had to bear 5 hours of your ghazals playlist, she says.

But they are beautiful ghazals, I remind her.

Yes, but you have only 10 ghazals in the playlist, and you played them about thirty-seven times back to back, she reminds me.

But they are beautiful ghazals, I remind her, again, more politely this time. I mean, Jagjit Singh and Gulam Ali are Jagjit Singh and Gulam Ali, right?

You really don’t get it, do you? She says this and rolls over and falls asleep.

I stay awake wondering what I have missed.

Later, I fall asleep, convinced of my theory that listening to songs repeatedly and not getting fed up is a mental disorder.

The next day, I have to see patients at 3 different hospitals before I reach my own place. So we will be spending a lot of time on the road. I connect my phone by Bluetooth to the car music system.

Chandan Das sings

“Na jee bhar ke dekha, na kuchh baat ki, badi aarzoo thi mulakat ki.

Sitaron ko shaayad khabar hi nahi, musafir ne jaane kahan raat ki”.

I suddenly realise its contextual similarity to Meer Taqi Meer’s “Patta patta, boota boota, haal hamara jaane hai….”

I replay Chandan Das 3 more times to see if my hypothesis is correct.

It seems so. I feel like a proper ghazal aficionado!

Next plays “Dikhayi diye yoon, ke bekhud kiya” from the movie Bazaar.

It is one of my favourites. It ranks somewhere near Jagjit Singh’s “Jhuki jhuki si nazar” and Gulam Ali’s “Chamakte chand ko…”, a song which should be made the anthem of midlife crisis.

The car is filled with Lata Mangeshkar’s divine voice, singing Khayyam’s brilliant lyrics:

“Parastish ki yaan tak ke, ae but tujhe,

nazar mein sabhon ki khuda kar chale”.

I find this line intriguing.

It has more depth than is apparent.

I replay and revise the ghazal 4 times, and finally I decide that this ‘is’ the best line from the whole song, and it indeed has a very deep meaning.

I ask my driver to take us to our own place next. He doesn’t hear me. I ask him a bit more loudly this time. Maybe he couldn’t hear me over the traffic. He still doesn’t hear me. I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. He pulls out the earplugs from his ears, and I convey the instructions to him. We move towards our hospital.

On the way, he fondly remembers our previous car, a Santro. But we have been using this Innova for the last 12 years, I remind him. We sold off the Santro 12 years ago. And the Innova is better in all aspects, I tell him. Though the mileage is lesser, it is much bigger, it is much safer with all the airbags, it is so steady on highways, the AC is so powerful, and the height and leg space are unbeatable. I list out all the plus points to him.

Nahi Sir, the Santro was much better, he says.

It had no Bluetooth!

Vikas was everyone’s friend. A very old friend. He had been around ever since I remember. Very few people had ever seen him, but his traces were all over the place. They also said that he was present mainly in foreign countries. We used to be in awe of him. He was a real busybody. We wouldn’t see him for quite some time and then would find him in unexpected places many times. He was like that, erratic and unpredictable.

The years went by and I became busy with my medical training. In those years of medical college, post-graduation and then while I was specialising in Urology, we used to mostly stay indoors and were largely cut off from friends and family. I lost touch with him for those few years. But when I stepped out of training and into the real world, he was right there. He was seen at many places and it was obvious that he had been busy.

I again got used to seeing him around. Loans became easier to get. This was like a shot in the arm for Vikas. Now he went into overdrive and was all over the place. Anywhere you went, or saw, you were sure to see Vikas somewhere, he had become omni-present, you just couldn’t miss him. But he was still not the intrusive rascal he would become later.

The other day, the gas supply at home was cut off. I called up the gas company and they said that some work was going on for Vikas and a gas pipeline had been punctured by mistake. After I Swiggied my lunch and Zomatoed my dinner, I reminded myself to tell Vikas to be more careful next time. You can’t just go around drilling into gas pipelines. But then he was like that only. When something had to happen, it had to happen, whether someone liked it or not.

The Metro work started in our city about 5 years ago. It is still going on. And on. And on. Half of the main roads are blocked. Every morning I set out for the Hospital from home, the drive takes twice as long, sometimes even longer. The Metro teams have occupied the roads everywhere, overnight. There was a rumour that the Chinese President had called the Metro guys to learn the tricks of how to effortlessly occupy land. The trick was in appearing overnight and digging up the land. The poor locals, who have to reach their offices and shops, learn to ignore the large holes in the ground and just try to reach their offices on time. After a few days, they have forgotten what the road looked like and don’t even notice the blocked roads and the diversions any more. The Chinese are very open to adopting newer technology and I think the Indian Army should shift more JCBs to the Indo-China border, instead of tanks. But I digress. I was informed that all this was also for Vikas. I had always thought that he was a patriotic type, but the thankless bugger was a bloody Chinese spy. I googled some choice Chinese abuses to use on him whenever I next met him. Wouldn’t he be surprised!

A few days later, there was a crowd demonstrating on the roads. Their lands had been taken away from them to build a highway. And they were told it was being done for Vikas. The sneaky bastard was now grabbing poor people’s lands!

Over the years, a lot of roads were built. But they disappeared almost completely after the first rainfall of the season. While driving, you would sometimes find small bits of road hidden away between the potholes. Now you actually felt bad for these poor patches of precious tar and to save them, you would continue to drive through the potholes.

The drainage system was also revamped, also for Vikas, apparently. After this, there was waterlogging everywhere with the slightest of rains. One family in our building left a tap running before leaving for their Diwali vacation. The next day, the whole area was flooded and the NDRF fellows came in their boats with food, clean water and a locksmith. Vikas had probably become bored and gone elsewhere.

I got news that there was some construction being done for him nearby. So I decided to try and meet him there. After breaking the suspension of my car, and then wading through knee deep sewage, I finally reached the flyover which was being constructed. There were machines digging away and drilling, and mixing concrete. The whole area was engulfed in fine cement dust. Not only could I not see anything, I couldn’t even breathe after a few minutes. In between my gasping and coughing, I asked the supervisor where Vikas was. He said that all this work was being done for him only and that he would be here soon. It had been a wasted trip, I had missed the slippery chap again. He wasn’t here either.

Soon I realised where he was.

He had gone to the mountains. Maybe he had gone there to find himself. While we were seeing his traces everywhere, he was probably overworked, and needed a break. Or maybe, seeing all the destruction being done in his name, he needed to leave everything behind and go and find himself. Whatever the reason, his presence was soon felt. The mountains were dug up to make broader roads, so that more people could go to hill stations to cool off. The millions of tourists to the hills left behind tons of garbage, paan stains and bad memories for the locals. The mountains started becoming hotter, the ice caps disappeared and they were no longer chill stations. There were now frequent new reports of landslides and cloudbursts and roads being washed away. Vikas had been found. After screwing the happiness of the city chaps, the rascal had gone to bugger up the peaceful lives of the simple hill folks.

Someone asked about the purpose of all this construction and remodelling. Who was benefitting? Who was Vikas doing all this for? Who were his partners in these projects? Vikas did not belong to anyone. He was a free soul. He was with everyone. He belonged to everyone.

After all, he was Sabka Vikas!