Pretty Preggers, please be sensitive

Every other day, somebody is taking up a cause on social media. Pretty film stars and sports personalities are out there, apparently putting up a case for handling body shaming during pregnancy.

It is many years since I have had my first born. For all of us, the first one is a frightening adventure into the unknown. Additionally, I was in a touring job, on the other side of thirty and one miscarriage down. An eminent lady gynaecologist advised me to stop wearing heels and avoid sex (actually, so no major cause to shake your fists at ignorant bureaucrats). Luckily, I took my sister's advice to change my gynaecologist.

One of the city's flamboyant doctors, he gifted me with a fully illustrated book with lovely images of a lady's progression through the 36 weeks. Each page prepared you for not just the visual body changes but detailed out the likely physical challenges, recommended exercise, need for being loved and enjoying love making. A book that I shared with my partner and later gave on loan to our pregnant colleagues. 

We live, largely in a society that celebrates motherhood as the end of womanhood. Looking and feeling good during pregnancy, doesn't come in itself. It is understanding that 'eating for two' is not the normal. Weight gain should be controlled, stretch marks should be proactively handled and exercise is essential. We need this important handholding and advice not just posts on Instagram or Twitter, of extremely beautiful ladies exposing their baby bumps. Clearly, many of these taken by professional photographers.

Equally important is the post partum attention we are allowed for ourselves or showered upon by our near and dear ones. Not all of us are blessed with the opportunity to make a recovery with a beautician and gym or yoga instructor. Post motherhood, we are rudely reminded that the baby comes first.

So, pretty celebrities, share good advice, recommend the right reading, if you really want to help others. God bless, all of you look beautiful and it's good to share your journey. Please remember, though, your beautiful exposition of pregnancy might actually be giving us the, by comparison, social media blues.

Friendship

Friendship, the word has been on my mind for some time now. Tried checking out a few sites for a good quote on friendship, to start this piece and found mostly mushy or pontificating stuff. Now, why, mid-week and mid-summer should I be pausing to reflect on this word? It would probably make more sense for me to hold this back till Friendship Day and catch some attention on SM. Just before I lose your attention, dear reader, this writing is not a reflection on present day SM and its impact on friendships. Much has been written on that and all of us, who are deep into it, have to find our own sweet spot between shallow jokes and soul-searching conversations.

One does get into these Nietzschean phases, when one stops to reflect on this life, its meaning, the role of people surrounding us and our own response and reactions. There are times of transition, when you leave the old, behind, liberating yourself and move on. Mind, I do not use the word move forward, for existence is not unidirectional. To understand a friendship of today, you may actually want to go back many years. There are those years in everyone’s life, when friendship is in a way a commitment. When, jealousies do exist but you are artless in the ways of harming another. Or even, when, hurt is imparted short & sharp followed by an apology tendered as quickly and easily and the pain forgotten.

I stop, here, to deconstruct that friendship of our school days. A school or play hours within a gated community, para or mohalla has a largely homogeneous social (not always but generally economic, too) group.  This, probably, fosters better understanding and does ensure similar and shared expectations. As a youngster our social conditioning is also low. We are learning and with pride share that knowledge, rather than jealously guard it in the belief that knowledge is power. It is only in the innocence of this childhood that I have found a friend willing to take me through lessons in Sanskrit or Hindi (a struggle I faced in my three years of senior school in Delhi. Having moved from Bombay, I realised that a lot of what I knew as Hindi was actually Marathi and 3 years of the Sanskrit course I need to crack in the final year of class VIII)

The Aristotelian view of man being a political creature with a need to live with others sets in later. Some adopt this philosophy early in their teenage years and develop manipulative or even healthy artless means to grow and succeed. Others adapt to this condition reluctantly as society requires us to mingle to earn a living and survive. This view sets a premium on recognition and positive strokes, alone. Somewhere in this journey, we start consolidating on our expectations; learn to put on those polite masks and what success pundits urge us to do, develop our “brand”. 

A true friend, at that age, is hard to come by. At times, they are also, just hard to recognize. When conversations get limited to polite sound bytes, connect can only be superficial. Revisiting Nietzche at this point,  ‘A true friend might choose contra-arguments, go one’s own way and even fight against a friend’s plans’. A friend for Nietzsche is not someone who, ‘accepts your every word and blindly follows in your steps’ or even someone who tries to ‘offer you a helping hand’ – this only promotes laziness, vanity, weakness and decadence.

My take is the acid test of friendship is accepting a friend is better than you, telling her/him so but at the same time being able to give and receive feedback without rancour. Be a cheerleader to a true friend in public, and a mirror to him in private. Also, be brave to invite that same feedback for yourself. Fight the conditions that sometimes risk friendships but preserve the dignity of the other, choosing to stay away from blame games. 

Finally, returning to the friend as a child, friendships are not about sharing the material things of life. Sharing, is empowering a friend. Teaching him a new skill, being his critique but retaining the ability to step down or stand aside when the moment under the arch lights belongs to that friend.

Spot on

" I've had people tell me, "you've got such a pretty face, why don't you just lose weigh?". I don't think people realise  it's rude to talk about somebody else's body."

Vidya Balan on being judged on how she looks as reported in NDTV.

Ms Vidya Balan's statement, struck a deep chord.

About a month back, at a dealer event, a channel partner's wife comes up to me. "Madam, you have such a lovely figure. Why don't you do something about the spots on your face?" Something I have heard several times, over the years and worked on my own defence mechanism - humour.

Freckles. A genetic, should I say 'fault', from my mother's side of the family. Ma was therefore quick to spot the early light brown specs on my nose and cheeks. A little consultation within her ladies' group and she concluded that homeopathy would be a safe treatment, with no side effects. Who knows, miracles are always possible. Dad, whose bloodstream was pharmaceutical selling, immediately tried to wriggle out of it. "The only cure for baldness", he said (he was bald, in the days when new age hair transplants were yet to be discovered) "is selecting your parents with care and I would think the same applies for freckles!". Mothers, like they all are, was not to be put-off that easily.

Thereafter started our once-in-a-month, visits to the Homeopath. This soon became one of the father-daughter things we did together. Another being the occasional Sunday morning movie shows of Tarzan and Laurel & Hardy. We enjoyed the 8 km drive from Chembur to Dadar and back. I always loved to hear about his tours and I in turn reciprocated with the regular school gossip.

The Homeopath's chamber was probably in his residence. One of those old buildings, with a huge room and stretch table. The diminutive man was almost not visible behind an equally large book. It could however be that for an 8 year old, somethings remain "large" as perceived first. He would peer at me silently, shuffle the pages of his book, tap on a passage or two with his index finger, mutter to himself and then write out a prescription. Very few words were exchanged, which was just as well or Dad might have picked up an argument. This probably went on for about a year, till one different Saturday. This time, the Doctor, was sitting back in his chair. He wasn't particularly interested in checking my face but did look at me in a reflective manner. Then turned to my father and said, "why do you worry about the spots. These are freckles". Help! Like we didn't know. "These give her a nice 'English' look". If I recall rightly, Dad swooped me up and we fled, lest he changed his mind. Back home I heard some muttered conversation with the word 'Memsaheb' being mentioned.

Later in life, I have heard a lot about these freckles. In all fairness to friends and public at large, the stuff grew in numbers and became darker (probably delayed side effects of homeopathy). Recalling some of the memorable ones here.

From Mumbai, we shifted to Delhi where I finished schooling and came back to Bombay for college. Walking up the steps of Asiatic Society, a young girl stopped me. She was a tad disappointed that I couldn't recall her from school days. A neat jibe from her, "but of course, no one can forget the spots on your face".

When Garnier, L'Oréal etc first hit the market, there was one particular advertisement featuring a Dalmatian. Those days, walking through any departmental store, I could spot the gleam in the salesgirls' eyes. They chased me with a variety of anti-spot creams and one or two odd ones even managed to sell me a tub or tube much to the bemusement of my daughter. She, one day, decided to take things in her hand. With a most forbidding look on her face she would firmly put them off with a "we love her freckles". I tried a gentler one. In a quiet, confidential manner I would say "if my spots were to go away, I fear my husband would not recognise me".

So, full circle to Vidya Balan, body shaming does hurt. The fact that these incidents have stayed with me is a proof.

The fact also is, that you need a daughter to help you for good. Last year, peering at herself in the mirror she says, "most of my facial features match Papa's. But I love most the freckles that I have inherited from you". 

"Love you, my child"

Leader not Caregiver : a case for distancing from team

A random tweet caught my attention this morning - 'the most important part of #leadership is caring about other people'. Counter-intuitively this did not get my complete buy-in. The word caring conjures up the picture of a nurturing leader. The kind who looks after her/his team and goes on an overdrive on engagement and fun activities. He would , typically, rush in to pick up the cudgels with other functional teams, in the belief that his own team gives kudos points for a Boss who 'fights on their behalf'.

There is something very paternal and top-down about this term. There is also a gender bias, here, as many readings on women leaders seem to support this 'caring' quality. The tweet did force some introspection on this Sunday morning - the weekend immediately following a financial year closure.

While the Corporate euphemism is 'stretch targets', there are times when teams have to take (what I call) 'put you on the stretcher' targets. Many leaders believe that in such moments they have to roll-up-the-sleeves and plunge into the centre of action. Some go on an overdrive with textbook messages of 'you realise what you visualise' kind. Other caring bosses call for impromptu treats and promises of a drink-binge on achieving targets.

At the heart of all this lies a basic truth - nothing gives individuals a greater high than a goal well-achieved. It is knowing that you delivered at the time the Company needs more than your 100%. These moments are when a leader must actually step back and let the team be. So, let me redefine the statement, my way :

"The most important part of #leadership is caring enough to help others to achieve"

When a company faces challenging targets, the delivery lies in the dynamics between functional teams. Teams that might actually be working on conflicting goals. The Manager, most times must wear the hat of a diplomat or become an Internal Community Manager - just facilitating cross-functional communication. 

Distancing, somewhat like a lighthouse, is viewing the larger picture, picking up ahead the disaster signals and helping the team to navigate. Caring and distancing, to some extent, sounds like an oxymoron. Just a caring manager might become too close and protective of his team. 

Good leaders are performance catalysts amongst peers and subordinates. They understand the importance of mobilising a larger Organization, to help a collective set of individuals to sense personalised achievement.

T2 coverage on The Telegraph She Awards

Madhumita Basu, one of the three corporate winners of The Telegraph SHE awards, shares her journey with t2

Madhumita Basu, chief of sales and marketing, and a member of the country executive council of Lafarge India, receives The Telegraph She Award at ITC Sonar... My career started as a management trainee. I was fairly clear early in life that I would join the corporate world. My father (late Barindra Kumar Sircar) was in the pharmaceutical industry and I found it very exciting the way he travelled or how he prepared for his sales conferences. When I was barely 12, I used to help him prepare the charts for his conferences. Like a true leader he used to come back and give me feedback, saying people always asked him how his charts were the neatest and the best. My sister and I, we were brought up as ‘children’. There was no gender identity in the family space. For dad, we were two children who had to stand on their own feet. I believe the father plays an important role. If you see our Olympic stories this time, you’ll see the girls have been firmly backed by the father. Because he establishes a certain expectation from male colleagues and competitors even before you start your working life.  ... and Basu at her Sector V office.  I decided to give Calcutta a shot I was born in Calcutta, and raised in Bombay and Delhi. I did my graduation in commerce from R.A. Podar College of Commerce & Economics in Bombay and my management in finance from Bombay University. The year I was to start my career, 1985, my family moved back to Calcutta. My father was keen that I stay back in Bombay for my career, but we are a close-knit family and I decided to give Calcutta a shot. I got an opening at Exide, which was then Chloride India, a part of the Chloride UK Group, as a trainee. It was an exciting journey. I went on to take charge of the MIS (marketing information systems) and sales controller functions. In 1988, I was selected to go and work out of the Chloride Group office in London for about 10 months. I came back to India to a changing automobile market. I took charge of the advertising portfolio. New-generation cars were coming in, the manner in which you made batteries was changing…. Battery stores at that time were garage shops. In 1990, Exide led the transition from garage stores to high-end retail outlets. I am often asked why I chose to work in “male bastions” like automobiles or cement. But when I started, there were very few women as role models in the corporate space. Today we look at FMCG or banking as women-heavy sectors but I feel when all of us started our journey, we were a minority in our industry. I remember the first dealer conference I organised, the dealers confused me with the hotel staff (laughs). Frankly, I didn’t give much thought to this “male bastion” thing. And I was a general manager before I turned 30. In the year 2000, I was trained as an assessor by CII for its business excellence awards. I was also given a special citation for the CII Young Manager Award that year. I moved to Eveready in 2005.  Among the many products I handled, the interesting bit was battery-supported LED lighting systems. In 2006-07 it was still very new. Now it’s one of their primary businesses. Eveready was again a very different learning phase. Because FMCG and retail outlets are very competitive spaces, it’s very important to concentrate on the placement of your product, whereas Exide was more a franchisee model. I moved to Lafarge in 2010 as head of marketing and a member of the executive committee, cement division. The Lafarge Group is based out of Paris. Lafarge lays a stress on the channel-driven business, which is sale to consumers who build their own homes. One of our brands, Concreto, is across the country the most premium brand. We’ve had very innovative customer engagement programmes with this brand. Now I am handling the entire cement sales and marketing function and the entire branding direction for the organisation across its various functions. Work requires me to travel at least three days a week, anywhere from Gujarat to Haryana right up to the Northeast. In my previous roles, I have travelled to countries as diverse as Armenia, Singapore, Japan, South Korea, Dubai, even Afghanistan.  Women in middle management I am a past president of the Calcutta Management Association (CMA). I have actively tried to take time out for management sessions with the middle management in organisations like SBI or CESC or IBM or TCS. I came into contact with another The Telegraph She awardee, Smita Pandit Chakraborty, because I had held a couple of sessions with her team (at Phoenix Conveyor Belt India).  When I interact with women, particularly in the middle management, I do feel that the ones who make it have very definite leadership goals in mind. What challenges us most as women is you have your job and you have your family. In handling these two roles, many women take shortcuts in their own self-development. These, in a way, becomes limiting in a middle management career. So you don’t invest time in networking, in skill development… I know this lady who now has her own HR consultancy. She used to take a week off every year to go and skill-build in her field. Unless you do that there comes a time when you feel challenged by other colleagues around the table. If you don’t invest in your network, then when the time comes, you cannot leverage it.  A safety net of mentors You may not be able to move the system or an entire organisation overnight. What you can do is you can have senior ladies like me who have reached a certain goal, who have faced certain challenges, take on an active coaching or mentoring role. Because, you know, it’s a critical one or two years when you feel all these challenges are coming so somebody needs to show you the light at the end of the tunnel. A mentor-coach can also guide you to develop yourself. I need to recognise the role my family has played. Also the role my organisations have played. I have been lucky to work in organisations that have a gender-neutral footprint where what mattered first was the work you were doing. During a dealer conference tour in my Exide stint I had a miscarriage. My colleagues helped me to not only get to a hospital but get better and continue with my pending conferences. It wasn’t like, ‘Oh she has had a problem, put her on the next flight back home.’ What I would like to reach out and tell other young women managers is if you are not finding that ecosystem in the place you are working, but you still love your work, you must try to reach out to an ecosystem that can help you. And today social networking gives you that space to connect with other women managers. She Awards  Honestly, it was very exciting. To see that it is people in the business and corporate space who have noted your contribution, then you feel you are adding value, not only to others but more importantly to yourself. For me it was not just that moment of going there and receiving the She Award but a feeling that I am in a direction where I want to move forward.

A to Z Work Travelogue : A for Afghanistan

I could name a place, for almost every alphabet, that I would have traveled to on work. With the exception of a Q, X, V and Z, I could draw up a fair list of cities, towns and countries, traveling since the last 27 years. Each place is etched in the mind through first impressions, negotiations, food and sometimes a 'must visit' tourist site. Some of the memories are fading and unlike these days, photographing (and uploading on Instagram or FB) and recording food, people and moments was not a way of life. The act of listing the places, itself, brought back some memories and the urge to record these before they completely fade away.

I am yet to make up my mind on whether to do this in alphabetic series, by preference, randomly or basis my recall of the visit / place. 20 plus blogs is a long way to go, so let us see how this unfolds. On the first country, though, there is no second thought as A for Afghanistan is in alphabetic series, stands for intrigue and holds vivid memories.

The first images as we land in Kabul is a single word - devastated.

We traveled as part of a CII organised exhibition of products from 170 companies. The previous year, in December 2001, President Hamid Karzai had taken charge of a transition government of post- Taliban Afghanistan. Riding on the back of Indian aid, CII started working on meets and delegations from early 2002 and this particular exhibition was held at the sprawling Kabul Polytechnic Grounds in early October. 

The bus ride to our hotel and thereafter for the next 3-4 days to and from the exhibition grounds, stays in my 'ears'. I was caught by surprise at the blaring number 'Soldier - Soldier' from Preity Zinta's first movie and it stuck in the mind as appropriate for the dry, barren, bombed and destroyed structures on both sides of the road.

The next memory is of our car as it wound its way through the more crowded bazar streets. We had the luxury to move the wrong way on a one-way street. The crowds parted to make way for the 'mehmaan'. This beautiful Urdu word for guests was something we kept hearing for the next few days, as everyone stepped in with a smile to help us. 

The bazaar was crowded, with mainly street vendors. What caught our eye was the mounds of dried mulberry.

Highly recommended for the diabetic, was this white variant but the more popular type was black. I brought home a fair quantity and would probably still find some tucked in a corner of the refrigerator.  One adventurous member of the team picked up a Persian rug but otherwise there wasn't much to buy other than dry fruits, asafoetida  (of excellent quality) and maybe saffron.

.

In fact, the Indian exhibition was the shopping destination for the locals, who thronged the place during general visitor hours. We had engaged a young college student as assistant and interpreter. He stoically stood by us, fussing around and helping at the stall, while furtively checking his watch for the open hours. His day 1 shopping list included Sona Chandi Chyvanprash for his father! In comparison, the business sessions in the morning saw very little footfalls.

Not to say, though, that need and potential business opportunities were missing. We did manage a couple of business meetings, including one past 7pm, under armed escort. On the outskirts of Kabul, we visited a community living in row houses within a walled space. The only source of electricity was a generator set with loosely hanging electrical lines and light points in the homes of the 18 odd families that lived in this enclosed space. Clearly, there was need for storage batteries and mini wind power systems - our product line that was on exhibit. The need was, however, not backed by ability to pay.

A couple of business contacts, later touched base with us in Delhi & Kolkata.

They endorsed the Arsalan biryani and recommended a portion of roomali roti to be eaten at the end of the meal to facilitate digestion. In Delhi, I recall a marathon 12 - 14 hour negotiation round, punctuated by just their Ramzan prayer break. That too, at our office, they sought my help for a piece of cloth to spread out on the floor. My colleague was quick to pull out a banner, stating that it would bring our business luck. 

Wonderful moments, those. I learnt patience and tenacity and wish we could have converted it to some good business. 

Rotis, Ghee & Me

Some years back, at a Company do, I opted for the Continental lunch. An European colleague, his plate loaded with paneer butter masala, chicken curry and baby naan, wondered at my choice of what he called "foreign fare". I jokingly responded, "what you have on that plate is as foreign to a Bengali as what I have taken". At that point in time, though, I had yet to find out that there is truly nothing called "Indian food". Traveling through the states of Bihar, Rajasthan, Bengal, Haryana - you name it, the variety is finger-licking amazing.

On a flight back home, after an intensive tour of the Marwar belt of Rajasthan, I just said "no" to in-flight dinner. What I ate over the last few days is easier to capture in words and photographs. What cannot be shared, however, is the warmth with which the food was served, be it at a local Dhaba or a dealer's residence.

My first stop was a home-cooked "feast''. Nothing else could describe the 14 odd dishes that was placed before me. Two smiling young ladies shuttled between the kitchen and the table, with what seemed like an unending line of dishes. I was advised to start the meal with something sweet and wisely ignored the ladoos, cashew and malai barfis to opt for the malai kachori. Then came the main course. Bajre ki roti (a favourite and something I got to eat after many years) accompanied by a variety of dishes, all a first for me. I must be honest, here, the generous helping of ghee on the rotis is something I would like to forget.  I reached out first for what looked like the familiar Kari and was told that this is a slightly different dish called dahi-fry (yoghurt fired with spices). The ground turmeric dish with cashews and the Kair Sangari, were not just local but recommended only for winters and signalling that I was a very important guest.

The next day we stopped at a Dhaba. My colleagues were very concerned that I would not be able to sit at the desi tables - a charpoy, with a wooden plank at the centre. Two people sat bow-legged on either side of the plank, on which the food is served.
The Dhaba owner was briefed the previous day, so we had a proper table set up for us. Seeing his apparent anxiety over the preparations, I didn't have the heart to tell him that I would have enjoyed the charpoy seating (a lost opportunity to showcase how I stay fit with yoga,too). The dishes were slight variants of the previous day's meal.

On this long road journey, we were back at another Dhaba in the evening.

The bar was raised this time, with the local officer managing a bed sheet as a makeshift table cloth!
The high point of this meal was a special thick wheat roti called tukkad. Business was brisk at this place, as two tourist buses and a couple of trucks stopped by. I recall an explosion of flavours, of freshly cooked veggies, but got too busy eating with my ghee soaked fingers to stop and take some photographs.

The final meal, this afternoon was at a place called Baba Ramdev Restaurant. This time, we shared a couple of tukkads with gatte ki sabzi, tamatar - sev ki sabzi and the, by now, familiar dahi -fry. With all these meals, the garlic chutney, sugarcane jaggery bits, gond (guar gum) ladoos and glasses of buttermilk, need a special mention.

The restaurant manager, at the last place, was friendly. No, the demonetisation had not hurt their business much. As he philosophically put it "people may opt for one less roti, curry or ghee but eat, they have to"! As we rushed out of the place I forgot to check whether the Baba Ramdev name has added to their business with his ever growing showcase yoga and Patanjali fame. 

Somethings you save for another visit, another time!