HAPPINESS: Where do you find this commodity?

I asked this question to my audience of 25 corporate executives while facilitating a training session on Motivation and inspiration. The responses I got were varied and wide spread. People found happiness in amassing wealth, purchasing latest electronic gadgets, visiting places, establishing new relationships, owning sizeable houses, adopting to latest fashion, watching movies, playing games, watching cricket matches, gossiping and so on and so forth. Nothing very unusual, considering the fact that we are living in a materialistic fast-paced world where technology reigns supreme. No wonder people tend to derive momentary motivation from all such activities. But do these mundane activities really inspire one to live a fuller life? A life of satisfaction and realization?

Abraham Maslow’s need hierarchy, one of the oldest and widely accepted theories of motivation based on satisfaction of human needs at various levels as a source of motivation is something which needs to be understood in this context. Maslow explains that in order to be perpetually motivated one has to go up and reach the tip of the pyramid i.e. reach the level self actualization.

 Maslow’s Need Hierarchy (represented as a pyramid with more basic needs at the bottom)

(image source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki)

This level of need refers to realization of a person’s full potential. What a person likes to do or is capable of doing he must do that to get inspired.  In other words a painter is never tired of painting and a musician is never tired of playing music. That means if a person is interested in inventing something new and is capable of doing it he will never need any external impulse to get motivated. He will be so engrossed in his work that he will derive internal satisfaction and supreme happiness from his work itself. This is real happiness and the ultimate motivator.

All external impulses enumerated by my audience above are temporary motivators. Once you get the thing you desire your motivation is gone. But if you are an internally satisfied individual and derive pleasure from what you are doing you enjoy your work and get eternal happiness. You never feel tired of working long hours and the more you work the more refreshing you feel. This is my idea of real happiness.

The real happiness comes from within. It does not lie in the outside world. In a later stage Maslow came up with a newer dimension of need, Self Transcendence: The self finds its actualization in giving itself to some higher goal outside oneself. And what could be this higher goal? Spirituality? Altruism??

Have you ever found happiness in the innocent smile of a child?

Have you ever noticed the expression of contentment on the face of a hungry beggar eating the stuff given by you?

Have you ever found the chirping of birds melodious to your ears during dawn or dusk?

And finally, Have you ever experienced the extra ordinary pleasure of a job well done?

If your answers to the above questions are anything less than an emphatic “YES” then you need to introspect a lot to find the real happiness as I perceive it.

CHILLI CRABS: MY FAVOURITE SINGAPOREAN CUISINE

As a child my favourite pastime was to go to the paddy fields with my grandfather and literally dig out the small crabs from their hideouts. I was quite afraid to catch those decapods scurrying really fast on the grassland but my grandpa was adept in grabbing them. He would collect tens of them in no time put them in a small container made up of bamboo sticks with a lid. When the container filled up we would return as the crabs made lot of scratching noise inside it trying vainly to crawl out. On reaching home my grandmother would take out the crabs one by one and break their legs and separate their hard flattened carapace and the folded abdomen. They would try to grab my grandma’s fingers with their pincer like big legs but hardly succeed. I enjoyed seeing how they were dressed and made ready to be cooked. Only the big legs with pincers were used for cooking along with the hard cell and abdomen. The little legs were discarded. My mother would cook them in an earthen pot and the aroma of the curry would work as an appetiser for me. I enjoyed the gravy and the meat that came out after cracking the hard cell of the big legs.

Crab meat has been a favourite dish for me right from my childhood. As I grew up we shifted to Brahmapur,  a town near the Chilka lake in Odisha. This salt water lake is famous for fishing of various kinds of sea food including prawns and crabs. After coming to this town I was amazed to see very large crabs being sold in the market wrapped in nets as those live crabs had the capacity to slice your finger with their awesome pincers. My father would get one of those crabs and my mother used to put it in boiling water without taking out the wrapper net. Once the crab died and got boiled she would take it out and cut it with a knife. She would then cook it with some spices adding a few pieces of potato. Unlike the paddy field crabs these Chilka lake crabs had a lot of meat and tasted much more delicious. And aroma of the gravy was really unique. One has to eat this crab curry prepared in a Odia household to know exactly what I mean.

If you are coming to Odisha for a visit then don’t miss the Chilka lake and try crab curry with plain steamed rice in a coastal restaurant. I bet you will relish the meal.

I have never eaten crab outside my state, Odisha. I hardly find it in the menu card of most restaurants. Few star hotels might have this item in their menu but not many common men have access to those places. The Chilli crab in the Singaporean takeaway menu fascinated my appetence for crab meat. This cuisine is prepared using mud crabs and stir-frying it in a semi-thick, sweet and savoury tomato and chilli based sauce. Despite its name Chilli crab is not a very spicy dish. Chilli crab has been promoted by The Singapore Tourism Board as one of Singapore's unofficial National Dishes, and can be found in seafood restaurants all over the island. It is traditionally eaten with bare hands as a means to savour the juicy crab meat with its sweet and spicy chilli sauce.    

This dish was created in 1956 by Lim Choon Ngee and his wife Cher Yam Tian at a humble seafood eatery at Kallang River. Their original version was fresh crab cooked with chilli and tomato sauce, and served with crusty French bread. But now several variations are available in various restaurants in Singapore. No Signboard Seafood, Red House, Seafood Paradise, Jumbo Seafood, Mattar Road Seafood Barbeque are some of the top restaurants offering this delicacy.

            However, I still doubt if this crab preparation can actually beat the simple household crab curry preparation in Odisha.

To know more about Chilli Crabs and other Singaporean cuisine click on the link: http://discover.stayfareast.com/

My Most Memorable Day with the Girl I Married #Together

It was 3rd July 1989. The most memorable day of my life. The pinch of the sultry summer was being manifested by the profuse sweating from my entire body. It was past eleven - approaching midnight. My bhabi (sister-in-law) literally pushed me inside the room and closed the door from outside. Although fully aware of the occasion I was a bit nervous. There I was, all alone in the company of the girl whom I married just a couple of days back. I had not even seen her face well. Since my parents had finalized the marriage without asking for my opinion, I had decided not to see the bride before the marriage. I did not know much about her except that she was a post graduate in science and the daughter of a commerce professor. And I never got the chance to exchange a word with her. This was for the first time that I was going to be face to face with her. Although we had tied the nuptial knot and taken the vow to remain man and wife for life, we were still strangers to each other.

She was sitting quietly on the floral bed, clad in a dazzling red zari saree, her face partly hiding under the ghunghat (veil). I was not able to decide how to begin with. Should I lift her veil?  Or should I just begin the conversation by asking her the name?? I was in a fix. I was lost in the ocean of my thoughts. The musical clock struck 12 and I came back to the reality of the situation. I was feeling awkward. I was unable to digest the fact that the girl was none other than my wife, my own wife - the girl who, by virtue of having married me, had become a part of my life. I could hardly realize that I had absolute right on her; her body, her mind, her thoughts, her soul, her everything. I was sitting on the chair in one corner of the room and brooding over my next course of action. I did not know how much time had passed. Finally the silence was broken by a few sweet words ringing like the cooing of the Koel, "Won't you come here? To me?? Are you not happy with this marriage???"

I was chuckled - dumbfounded. Who was it? The voice was coming from the bridal couch. A looked up. A pair of large tear-bedimmed eyes from under the veil was staring at me. I was perturbed by the melancholic look on her face. A string in my heart's beena trembled in distress……… Am I not doing injustice to her by not speaking at all? A sense of guilt overwhelmed me. Slowly I went up to the floral bed and sat close to her. I lifted her veil a bit and looked into her deep blue large eyes. Tears were still oozing out of her eyelids. I begged her pardon for my uncalled for indifference and apologetically requested her to stop the tears. Gradually she became normal and a ray of charging smile flashed on her face. I asked, ”Will you tell me your name?” “Don’t you know that?” she questioned. “Yes I do”, I quipped, “I have heard it from others, but I want to hear it from you.” She laughed and the tense atmosphere got diluted.

We then talked, talked and talked. There was no specific topic. We told each other about ourselves, about our likes and dislikes, about our college life, about our friends and about a lot more things. Finally she asked why I did not go to see her before marriage as it was a common custom in our society. I told her frankly that I had full faith in the choice of my parents and since the marriage had already been finalised I did not feel the necessity to honour the custom and ruin the suspense of that fateful night.

Her face was brightening up. Probably she was appreciating my frankness deep in her heart. She stared at me for a while. Then suddenly she sprang up and put both her arms around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder. She sobbed as she told," You are not an ordinary man- you are extra-ordinary. I am really fortunate enough to get you as my life partner. I had absolutely no idea that there could be such a tender, loving heart underneath your fierce bearded look. I am really proud of you. And I promise to be with you in all adversities. Nothing in the world can ever separate us." I was moved by her words and held her in tight embrace. I switched off the lights and in the darkness two souls mingled to become one and inseparable. Two hearts had started beating together with divine bliss.

This post has been written for Housing.com and their #together   campaign. Check out the below link: https://housing.com/

THE PANGS OF LEAVING THE COMFORT OF MY HOME

My mother was unable to hide her tears in spite of her best efforts as we were waiting for my father who had gone to fetch a rickshaw to carry me to the railway station. It was the first time since my arrival on this earth I was going away from the comforts of my home to stay in a hostel to pursue my graduation. Not that I was not apprehensive. But I was trying hard to conceal my feelings just to provide emotional stability to my parents. My parents had just one consolation that two of my other classmates were also going with me to stay at the same place. My father advised the three of us to stay in the same room in the hostel and be with one another all the time. Although he was not so sentimental I could notice a tiny drop of tear welling up in my father’s eyes when the train started moving from the platform.

The next day all three of us got down at Rourkela. My friend Ravi’s uncle had come to receive us on the platform. He took all of us to his house in Sector 4 which was barely two kilometers away from our dream destination: the Regional Engineering College(REC), Rourkela. We were supposed to report in Hostel No.1 (the fresher’s hostel) by 4 PM. After lunch Ravi’s Uncle took us to the Hostel and we were busy getting ourselves registered. On our request all three of us were accommodated in Room No.51 in the second/top floor of the hostel. We occupied our beds with a lot of enthusiasm with the dream of becoming engineers after four years flashing repeatedly in our mind’s eye. Little did we know at that moment that several nightmarish experiences were awaiting us.

Ragging. I had heard this word from several people and I knew that it was being practised in technical colleges. But I had no idea exactly how people rag or get ragged. I am talking about 1980 when ragging was in full force in almost all technical colleges in India. And following the death of few students in IITs and else where finally ragging was banned in this country and laws to prevent the same was enacted.  But when we reached REC (now NIT, Rourkela) the first lesson that was taught to us by the seniors was that we were now branded RENGCOLLEANS and we must learn to behave properly to keep that brand image intact. We were told to speak only in English and in no other language. Some of my friends who were not very fluent in English and mixed up with Odia or Hindi were badly beaten up. The second lesson was to utter obscenities in every sentence that we spoke. It took us a lot of time and innumerable slaps to mouth “mothers .... and sisters....” and other naked slangs. Then we were taught to learn by heart and recite in chorus the Rengcollian song/anthem which was nothing but a song composed of most dirty vulgar words. We were asked to smoke/drink and do other inhuman things like pissing on each other f***ing each others’ *** and so many other things which are difficult  to describe. Those who obliged were spared and those who refused to do such acts were beaten up black and blue. Since I belonged to the second category I had to tolerate a lot of physical torture. Once they beat me so much that I literally saw stars coming out of my eyes and became unconscious. My body was so swollen that it was very painful to wear my shirt for several days.  I was weeping all the time. I was pining for  my mother’s lap to get some comfort. I was feeling like calling my father and asking him to take me out of the place. I am sure had my parents seen me in that condition I would have never become an engineer. But coming from a  lower middle class background and thinking of the precarious financial condition in which my family was at that time I simply had no other choice but to tolerate everything silently. I was just praying to God to save my life. My only consolation was that I was not alone undergoing such treatment and most of the freshers were going through the same ordeal. My father used to tell me often, “nothing is permanent in this word and time heals all wounds”. I remembered these words of wisdom and waited for the divine justice to trickle down.

This torturous trail continued for almost one month and finally one night several seniors raided our hostel and dragged us to their hostel. We ran completely naked and they played several pranks on us like making us enact several vulgar scenes. After about one hour of torture which they termed as “Mass Ragging(MR)” they threw a grand party and made us comfortable. All this was happening in front of several onlookers including mess boys. Then finally after we ate our fill they announced that from that moment onwards we were accepted as registered Rengcolleans and there would be no further ragging. They shook hands with us and hugged us. Finally the ordeal came to an end.

The following day we were not forced to go to the classes in a line and nobody stopped us anywhere to ask a vulgar question. Nobody slapped us for not wearing a shoe. The fear of ragging was gone and probably we had started preparing ourselves to welcome freshers the next year on similar footing.

The pangs of leaving the comforts of my home was never felt again. This months long ordeal had made me much stronger mentally. I was no longer afraid of anything or anybody. I had developed myself as a bold individual who could call a spade a spade. Now in retrospect I realise that had there been no ragging I would perhaps have remained a naive, homesick, fearful and extremely submissive person that I used to be. But the only negative aspect of  ragging was the physical torture that was inflicted on us and the use of extreme vulgarism. I had never divulged this chapter of my life to my family so far. This will be a surprise to all my family members when they read this entry.

This post has been written for Housing.com and their #StartANewLifecampaign. Check out their concept video here: