Inspirations (16 of 25) - Baradwaj Rangan, Film Critic and Author

Let’s assume that you have an annual pass to a museum.  Driven by an inexplicable passion for art, you go there every weekend, roam around and stare at painting after painting.  Each time you look at a particular favorite of yours, you experience a high but struggle to find the right reasons or words to express what it is about the painting that yanks you out of the present and lifts you to a different plane.  But one day, you pick up a newspaper and read an exquisitely crafted write-up on this work of art and it changes your perceptions of art, makes you dig deeper, makes you question certain choices that the artist would have made and helps you engage your intellect as opposed to just your senses.  In this case, is it just the artist that has inspired you?  What about the author of that write-up?  What is his role in your enriching your experience?  Is he an inspiration as well? 

National award winning film critic Baradwaj Rangan, through his intelligent, witty and thought provoking essays on film and filmmakers has certainly enriched my movie watching experience manifold.  I wrote about Kamal Hassan earlier in my Inspirations series and how he routinely – for well beyond the duration of a movie - transported me to the worlds that he was creating as a writer and as an actor. (“Mahanadhi” is a case in point.)  But in Rangan, I see a person that will help me traverse the worlds that are created by an actor or a director, respectfully question the paths, twists and turns and yet, never hesitate to express my unabashed admiration and love for the works of a creator. 

With my strong interest in writing and my even stronger interest in watching movies, Rangan’s write-ups make me enjoy my two strong passions to the fullest.  But more importantly, they help me articulate my own thoughts.  I will give you an example.  In his wonderful book, “Conversations with Mani Ratnam,” he routinely discusses casting choices from Vijaykumar in “Agni Natchathiram” to Manisha Koirala in “Bombay” and Jayasudha in “Alai Paayuthey.”  Up until I read the book, I had never quite thought of what may have gone into casting certain actors for certain roles, be it the major or the minor ones.  Then, when I watched “Jigarthandaa” and “Madras” recently, I appreciated one casting choice while questioning another.  In “Jigarthandaa,” one of the hilarious segments involve an acting coach who teaches the basics of acting to a gangster.  A little known character actor was cast in the role.  And, he did quite well too.  But I felt that the director Karthik Subburaj should have chosen a better known actor, say one like Nasser who is known to take acting very seriously and played off his image.  I thought that a well-known face would have lent the role more gravitas.  On the other hand, I liked the fact that Jayabalan (the antagonist from “AadukaLam”) was cast in what was actually a minor role in "Madras."  The fact that his face adorned the huge wall that became the bone of contention to two warring factions in the movie made me appreciate the Director for his choice.  He utilized Jayabalan’s image from “AadukaLam” well and ensured that the wall (with his image) gained a life of its own during the movie.

With his keen observations and thoughtful word choices, he has also made me look at movies that I have loved immensely over the years, through a fresh set of eyes.  His write-up on "Anbe Sivam" and the chapter in his book on “Nayagan” are two examples.  As much as I love “Anbe Sivam” and had come to terms with its minor flaws, he made me think about Kamal’s indulgences as a writer while not losing sight of his wonderful performance as an actor.  And, one of the things that you will notice in his writings is a certain respect for filmmakers that strive to make good, even if flawed, cinema.  His write-ups on Selvaraghavan’s works may make people think that he cuts too much slack for Directors with unique touches but imperfect execution.  But dig deeper, you will see that he does not turn a blind eye to the flaws in, say a “Mayakkam Enna,” a flawed film, yes.  But a fascinating character study nevertheless.  Thanks to his writings, I have been able to think deeper about the disparate elements that combine to make a whole picture rather than just giving a one-dimensional, “I loved it” or “I hated it” kind of a response.  

The intelligence and intellect doesn’t mean that his writing does not have an element of fun.  Wit, understated humor and occasional cheeky irreverence all mark his work.  For instance, he concluded his scathing review of "Anjaan" with the following line - "You go in expecting a meal and you end up with a… toothpick."  

If I were to pick one element of his writings that I generally disagree with, it's his writings on movies and filmmakers from an earlier era.  While he undoubtedly respects a Sridhar or a Sivaji and appreciates a "Motor Sundaram Pillai" and Sivaji's understated acting in that movie, I wish some of his writings would also incorporate some more context and history that may make the current generation appreciate the works of an earlier generation.  For instance, I remember reading that he was not a huge fan of Sridhar's works except for the music and cinematography.  Of course, he is entitled to his opinions of Sridhar's movies.  But I also wish that he had written about how Sridhar's dialogues and direction heralded a new era where conversations were unfussy (as opposed to the dramatic, long-winded dialogues of the "Manohara" days) and how he essentially sparked off a wave of triangular (and sometimes even quadrangular!) love stories.

All said and done, you must be wondering what is so inspirational about a person that helps me experience movies better.  Well, one of my favorite lines in “Sindhu Bhairavi” is one uttered by Suhasini to Sivakumar – “Neenge oru genius; naan oru veri pudicha rasigai!” If you remember that scene, you will remember the kind of high that Suhasini experiences as a rabid fan of music, one who is yearning to learn and evolve…just as a fan, not as a creator.  Well, Rangan helps me channel my ‘veri pudicha rasanai’ for the movies in new ways.  If I am the movie equivalent of the art fanatic roaming the halls of the museum, then he is the newspaper critic giving the wanderer some very good direction!  And that I find to be truly inspirational in its own way.

Start watching at 18:18

Inspirations (15 of 25) - Music Maestro Ilayaraja

He is a master in a language in which I don’t know even the basic semantics.  His exquisite expressions in the language swayed an entire generation, from the uneducated to the erudite.  Well, can one read a book without understanding the language in which the author wrote it, yet feel exalted, mesmerized or moved?  Probably not.  But when the “book” is a movie score, the “language” music and the “author” Ilayaraja, most definitely, yes!

Before I proceed any further, it makes sense to hear this sample.  This piece is titled “Do Anything” from his album, “How to name it.”  The titles of the track and the album are as arbitrary as they can be.  You and I don’t know the “situation” (in Tamil movie parlance) for which it was composed.  There is no context or content to lead us into this.  But just listen to the piece in its entirety first.

There is something that this piece – which I feel is so symptomatic of Ilayaraja’s music – always does to me.  Whatever mood I am in when I listen to it, it yanks me out of my world for at least a few minutes beyond the duration of the piece and calms me down.  Having practiced yoga for the past seven years, I am reasonably aware of my breathing patterns and my centeredness (or the lack thereof, at times!) and it is absolutely no overstatement to say that this piece has a meditative effect on me.  The piece starts out with the gentle melody of the flute and from the time the group of violins play right up to the crescendo reached by the rustic part of this piece, there are so many emotional notes that the piece hits that different pieces touch me the most depending on my mindset at the time of listening. 

In one of the best books on filmmaking, “Conversations with Mani Ratnam,” Ratnam makes a wonderful point on how well-placed songs in a movie heighten the mood or the emotion that the filmmaker is striving for and essentially provide the audience with an abstract, stylized way of experiencing that high.  He makes this point when explaining why he didn’t place a song in the Karthik flashback in “Mouna Raagam” and how that high was attained by the scenes themselves, hence rendering a song redundant.   But take the same movie and two splendid, elevating songs tuned by Ilayaraja.  The first one is “Nilave Vaa” which starts right after the wife demands a divorce from the husband in the first week of marriage.  Aided by the Late Vaali’s marvelous lyrics (“Ammadiyo Neethaan Innum Siru Pillai…Thaangathamma Nenjam Neeyum Sonna Sollai”), Ilayaraja’s tune and SPB’s singing all combine to give the perfect end to that sequence.  Ditto for the “Chinna Chinna Vannakuyil” which represents an even more interesting situation.  The wife that had once described her husband’s touch as “kumblipoochi oorra maadhiri irukku,” has now fallen in love with him and makes eye contact for a fleeting moment after she bumps into the husband.  Without a song, it is hard to imagine how the filmmaker could have meaningfully ended this sequence.  Instead, starting with S. Janaki’s “la la la…” the music joyfully and tastefully conveys the ecstasy felt by the wife.  A combination of the lilting tune, Janaki’s lovely rendition, Revathy’s graceful emoting and some beautiful lines (“Puriyaadha Aanandham Pudhidhaaga Aarambam”) form the most eloquent explanation of the wife’s silence.  What better way for a “Mounam” to pave the way for a “Raagam?”  Moviemaking is an audio-visual medium and this kind of perfect harmony of audio and visuals has truly enhanced how I have felt during and after a movie.

Of course, to just describe Ilayaraja’s penchant for melody is hardly doing justice to the astonishing variety of his oeuvre.  In the late 70s and 80s, at his peak, he was equally at ease helping us experience the poetry of Bharathiraja’s creations, enjoy the mindless guilty pleasure of SP Muthuraman’s masala films and relish the complex musical subjects of Balachander.  Ever since the grand arrival of AR Rehman, his outputs have been limited and even quite underwhelming in terms of quality.  But Ilayaraja’s background scores for movies continue to be a treasure.  The music in this sequence (watch from the 18:38 min point) from “Sethu” is enough proof of how his music can elevate a sequence.  Director Balki, at an audio release function, played a sequence from “Paa,” first without music and then with Ilayaraja’s background score.  Try doing the same for this sequence and you will know how Director Bala was able to make us understand Vikram’s feelings for Abitha without a single line of dialogue. 

Cinema and music are both escapist mediums.  But the escape from reality doesn’t have to always be condemned or even looked down upon.  Especially if in the way creators such as Ilayaraja express themselves help us experience our own emotions in a heightened, wondrous manner, the escape journey is well worth the time we invest in it.  After all, the ways in which art can uplift us are sometimes as ineffable as the language in which the artists do so. 

Inspirations (14 of 25) - Ravi Shastri, former cricketer

“Ravi Shastri maximized what God gave him,” said commentator Harsha Bhogle in an interview.  It is perhaps the most perfect summation of a man who has polarized opinions like few other, yet was a vital, if underappreciated, cog in the Indian cricket wheel of the 1980s.  It was a wheel full of incredibly talented cogs that didn’t always work in concert with one another.  It was a wheel that occasionally spun in the right direction and achieved notable successes but to me, the Indian cricket saga of the 1980s, especially from 1986-90 was a story of how much further the wheel could have traveled had the cogs been realigned.

On youtube, if you search for videos of Shastri batting, you unfortunately will find only one rather unflattering post of a Shastri innings of 10 off 63 balls, that too in an ODI.  Yes, you read that right – 10 off 63 balls!  Yes, that’s one fifth of the innings consumed for 10 runs (that funnily enough includes a boundary!)  Yet, the video is a sad representation of a man who not only hit six sixes in an over in a first class match but also, when backed by the team management and selectors, could go anywhere from being a dour opener to a very useful lower order hitter.  Sure, there is no excuse for an innings of 10 off 63 balls.  The truth is there were days when Shastri could not get the ball off the square.  There were days when Shastri could not bring himself to run quick singles.  Heck, there were days when Shastri could not bring himself to get out and end his (and the spectators’) misery.  But if you carefully look at the statistics of his career and try to get some context for some of his awful miscalculations, you will quickly realize that it is mostly concentrated in the last part of his career.  To understand Shastri’s failures in the last two or three years of his career (the notable exception being his typically solid-but-not-spectacular 206 at Sydney where he made a mess of Shane Warne’s debut) is to understand the failures of the Indian cricket system.  But a bit of context first…

The first five years of Shastri’s career offered ample evidence of his ability to adapt and to evolve.  In his debut series against NZ in 1981, he was primarily an off spinner who could bat lower in the order.  By 1983, he opened the batting against Pakistan, in Pakistan, and scored 128.  By 1985, he alternated between opening the batting and batting in the middle order (in Tests and ODIs), his off spin was marginally effective but the most important development was that he had become vice-captain by the age of 23.  Mentored and backed to the hilt by Sunil Gavaskar, Shastri came into his own as an effective, thinking cricketer who was an integral part of the think tank and was built up to be the future captain.  Gavaskar stepped down as the captain after the victorious 1985 WCC and Kapil Dev took over with the hope that he would recreate the magic and deliver on the promise of the 1983 World Cup win.  But if you dig deeper, you will see that Kapil rarely had the smarts as the captain.  What he could do was lead the way with stunning performances with the bat or ball but it was very rare that Kapil could stomp his authority as a captain through an intelligent tactical move or an inspired choice of selection.  By 1986, Dilip Vengsarkar had become one of the best batsmen in the world, stylishly crafting century after century.  The powers of Indian cricket, in their infinite wisdom, decided that the best player in the team would become captain.  So, after the fiasco of the 1987 World Cup, Kapil was sacked and Vengsarkar became captain.  As Harsha Bhogle notes in his biography of Azhar, the two year grooming period of Shastri was completely wasted. 

What Shastri possessed were a shrewd mind and a go-getter spirit.  Where Vengsarkar won over was in sheer batting talent.  It poses a very interesting question – who should lead a team?  A less talented but smart youngster or a more senior, more talented but less astute leader?  Save a home series win against a NZ side, Vengsarkar’s tenure was a failure, not only in terms of less than stellar results but also low team morale and poor direction for talented players.  (Vengsarkar was once supposed to have yelled at Azhar from the pavilion when the latter was in the middle, batting slower than what Vengsarkar expected!) 

Shastri meanwhile continued to be an effective all-rounder (even if not a dominating one), even making a fighting century in the West Indies.  His performance in the Tied Test betrayed his shrewd cricketing mind.  Sure, he exposed the last man Maninder Singh to Greg Matthews but it was only after he played a superb knock under pressure (48 off 40 balls…in a Test; Mr. Youtube poster, why not post this?!) and ensured that India did not lose.  By the late 80s, the players had a serious dispute with the Board (headed by Raj Singh Dungarpur) over pay issues.  Vengsarkar was dropped.  Krish Srikkanth was dumped as a player after one series as a captain.  And, the captaincy was handed over to Azhar.  Did the selectors ever think of Shastri, now in his 10^th year as an international player, with a few years of experience as a vice captain?  I don’t know all of what happened in the offices of the BCCI but from what I have read of this period, it is safe to say that Azhar was deemed a “safer” (read, more subservient) choice as a captain by the board than any of the seniors.  That was one of the most horrible decisions in the history of Indian cricket for Azhar was a fiasco of colossal proportions as a leader, being a poor communicator and an even poorer tactician.  Sure, he was a glorious sight to watch as a batsman and he had a number of successes in the Indian dustbowls in the early 90s but I find myself hard-pressed to attribute even one success to his captaincy. 

By the early 90s, Shastri had declined as a player.  He had started to have knee troubles and played in the World Cup despite that and limped – literally and figuratively – to pathetic innings such as 25 off 67 balls in the crunch game against Australia where India was chasing a stiff target of almost five an over.  It was a sign that the end was nigh.  He made the mistake that many others such as Kapil made of neither quitting nor evolving when the signs of decline were clear (the way Sachin reinvented himself, curbing his aggression, post 2007-08). 

But, what an empowered Shastri would have done, had he taken over the captaincy in the mid-to-late 80s is a matter of conjecture.  But I sincerely feel that given his superb track record as captain in domestic cricket and his deep understanding of the game, especially in Tests, that he should have at least been given a proper chance to prove his mettle.  The failures of the team under Vengsarkar and Azhar proved that the captaincy should have been given to the best leader, not the best player.  It is a testament to Shastri’s adaptability that he scored runs under all four captains in the 1980s, all with different styles.  

He is an inspiration to me for the sheer reason that as a player, he turned up and put in his best efforts and made sure that there was not an ounce of talent (even if limited) that he left unutilized.  He is an inspiration to me for the way in which he ignored his critics who highlighted his lack of flair but didn’t always appreciate his grafting ability.  His supreme confidence in himself may have bordered on arrogance but the fact is that far more talented players fell prey to self-doubt and muddled minds.  The fact that he was able to score more than 10 centuries, making hundreds in Pakistan (against Imran, et al), in West Indies (against Marshall, Patterson, et al) and in Australia (against McDermott, Hughes and Warne) all go to show that he could fight it out in his own way.  To put it succinctly, Shastri certainly maximized what God gave him.  It is just sad that Indian cricket did not maximize Shastri for what he offered.

PS: The lack of any mention of Shastri the commentator of present is intentional.  To me, the facet of Shastri that inspired me the most was that of a cricketer, not of an expert.

Inspirations (13 of 25) - Ra. Parthiban, Film Actor and Director

One of the most controversial figures in my list of Inspirations, film actor and director Ra. Parthiban figures in my list because of just five (“Pudhiya Paadhai,” “Bharathi Kannamma,” “Swarnamukhi,” “Housefull” and “Kudaikkull Mazhai”) films that he has featured in, two unforgettable cameos (“Aravindan” and “Anthapuram”) and  a book of mostly wonderful poems that he wrote, “KirukkalgaL.”  It is hard to imagine an actor who has divided opinions so much, who has abused his undeniable talent in some unwatchable films, whose checkered personal life has been the subject of much criticism.  Yet, he has - through a small set of meaningful, hard-hitting films such as the ones that I have listed above – made a lasting impact on people like me and even been an inspiration in a few ways.  It is just sad that a close look at his career can serve as a lesson in how to not mess up a legacy.  More on the actual legacy first.

Charting a “Pudhiya Paadhai”

Come April 14, 2014, it would have been 25 years since “Pudhiya Paadhai” released in the theatres to a rapturous response.  Making his debut as an actor, writer and director, Parthiban did not just make a splash with his effort.  Instead, he redefined the rules for jumping into the water.  “Pudhiya Paadhai,” for whatever flaws it may have, is a raw, bold and beautiful piece of cinema.  Every line of dialogue uttered by Parthiban in the movie is as bold as bold is.  Sample this piece uttered by Parthiban (an orphan in the movie) to a woman who tries to abandon her illegitimate child under a tree in the middle of the night:

Watch from the 0:37-3:11 point (WARNING: This scene has really graphic language)

After writing a script that sparkled with wit, raw emotion and inimitable play of words, Parthiban the actor added even more weight to the controversial subject with his acting which again was raw, rough around the edges, yet hit you in the face with punches so hard that it hurts (for the right reasons) even 25 years after the movie was first made.  What really has hurt me (for the wrong reasons) is how his career has rarely lived up to the promise shown in this movie.  With exceptions, that is.  Except that the exceptions are so exceptional that it is sad that his career in films overall has turned to be a case of mostly wasted talent.

If Parthiban had only made the half a dozen or so films that I listed in the beginning, he would have been acclaimed as a master actor and even more masterful script writer.  (He is known to frequently write his own lines for the movies that he acts in even if he doesn’t get credit.)  Blessed with big, powerful eyes, gift of the gab as well as superb diction, Parthiban’s strength as an actor is dialogue delivery.  But one has to see him in movies like “Housefull” to note how masterful his body language is.  As a story writer and director, he has a yen for the different.  But what started out as a yen turned out to be obsession.  Obsession to the point that his films started being very distanced from the mainstream.  A film like “KudaikkuL Mazhai” has a number of brilliant moments but placed in a screenplay that gads about in an unconventional way, the filmmaker ended up catering to a very small audience.  One of Parthiban’s flaws as a filmmaker has been to almost want to take a vengeance on the audience for failing him commercially.  A sensitive (but undercooked) effort such as “Sugamaana Sumaigal” was backed up with a cheap “Ulle Veliye” and a wondrous film such as “KudaikkuL Mazhai” was succeeded by a crude “Pacha Kudhira.”  Now, how do you preserve a legacy of films such as “Pudhiya Paadhai” and “Housefull” if your oeuvre also contains drivel like “Kundakka Mandakka” and “Kadhal Kirukkan?”

You must be wondering, “All this and yet, you not only like him but also consider him an inspiration, no less?”  It now behooves me to tell you why my answer is yes!

The unconventional inspiration

Where Parthiban has really influenced me is in my approach to writing as well as my perspective on things that would have normally made me squeamish otherwise.  Through his forthright approach to dealing with uncomfortable subjects such as a rape, abandoned children and the effects of violence (in “Housefull”), he has inspired me to not shut my eyes to things that happen around me and instead, as a responsible adult, to talk and write boldly about issues that reveal the darker side of humanity.  For instance, the first short story that I wrote was called, “True Love.”  Sounds innocuous except the fact that it was about someone afflicted with AIDS.  Another story that I wrote was titled, “White Doves,” and was about domestic violence.  I wrote the story after watching his “Housefull,” which was a 2 ½ hour paean to non-violence.  I said to myself, “The type of violence that bothers me the most is domestic violence, so I better write something about it.”  I will openly admit that I have not done anything substantial as yet (such as joining a non-profit organization that helps victims of violence) about the things in the society that bother me.  But I once received a letter from someone (who had seen my story on Sulekha) who wrote to me that she had lost her partner to AIDS and that my story meant something to her.  That was truly gratifying for a budding writer and I have to thank Parthiban for making me approach a sensitive topic without shying away.  Maybe the day will come when I do something substantial such as what he does with his “Manidha Neya Mandram.”

Apart from my writing, my approach to public speaking has also been influenced by Parthiban.  In my Toastmasters Speaking Club as well as at work (where I give motivational speeches at group meetings), I have given some speeches on topics such as how my wife dealt with an unfortunate miscarriage to how I have tried to curb my short tempered nature after reading a book on habits.  Whenever I type up the contents of a speech, I would think about the places where I would have to state something bold in order to make an impact and would strive to make lines sharp without sounding unnecessarily sensational.  Sure, there are places where subtlety has a place.  But as I have seen Parthiban demonstrate time and again, there are instances where making a point in a brutally honest manner can be very effective in conveying something important.  For instance, at a group meeting at work, as part of a motivational speech (during a time of reorganization), I spoke about three people – Randy Pausch (who kept a sunny attitude through his terminal cancer), Sheena Iyengar (who, despite her blindness, has made a profound impact on people’s lives through her book, “The Art of Choosing”) and my wife, who dealt with a miscarriage in a mature manner without complaining.  I finished my speech saying, “Each of these three people had every right to complain.  But they did not.  So, let’s not sit and complain about something that’s beyond our control.”  I through twice about saying this in a professional setting and whether it was too personal or prescriptive but then I said to myself that there was a point worth making and it was worth making only if made in no uncertain terms.  That was that.   

I recognize that this write-up does not talk about the less admirable traits of Parthiban.  But as I wrote in my piece on Imran Khan, for a person to be an inspiration of mine, I don’t think he or she has to be perfect.  I just want to take the best out of a disparate set of people and find inspiration to view the world through different lenses.  And, a different lens is something that Parthiban has indeed given me.  I just wish that he acquires the 20:20 vision of hindsight to look back at all the mistakes that he has made in his career, a career whose “paadhai” has lost a lot of direction since he set foot in a gloriously “pudhiya” manner 25 years ago. But is it ever too late to get back on track?

Inspirations (12 of 25) – Robert Kelley (Author of “How to Be a Star at Work”)

Robert Kelley, with his book, “How to Be a Star at Work” did me a tremendous service - he made me rid myself off a demon called self-doubt and made me feel completely empowered as a professional.  If you haven’t read his book, I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that it is one of those self-help books that is full of flowery prose and utopian ideas.  But in truth, Professor Kelley’s book is a far cry from that.  More on that in a bit.  First, let me give you a bit of history to provide some context.  Actually, it’s not “his-tory.”  It’s my story!

As I look back on my days as a student, I think it is safe to say that I was a much better and wiser student at 27 (during my business school days) than I was at 17.  I hit some purple patches as a student in middle school but in high school, I was very mediocre (and, that might sound charitable to those that have known me during those years!).  The frustrating thing for those that cared about me was that they all knew that I was capable of much better things than my grades suggested.  As I started excelling in school during my undergrad years and later as a graduate student, I knew one thing for sure.  A good work ethic- under the watchful, supportive eyes of my parents- was one key difference between my good and bad years as a student.  During my five years as a software engineer, I continued to have a fairly good work ethic and it definitely stood me in good stead.  But it is one thing to work hard and another thing to work smartly.  During my years as a software professional, I had the mindset of a good student that would work on things assigned to him and (mostly) completed his work on time.  I used to be happy with my work but on days when things were not great at work, somewhere within, there was a gnawing feeling.  Would my work ethic, which had transformed me as a student during my undergrad years, be good enough to make me realize my full potential as a professional?  I hadn’t quite found the answer to that question when I decided to return to school to pursue an MBA.  At this stage, I used to (literally) have nightmares of my high school days and would get dreams such as not finishing an exam on time and failing big time!  I smile now as I think about it but I certainly didn’t smile when I went through those days and nights of self-questioning.

Going into my MBA after having worked for five years, I knew that I was interested in marketing and I wanted to get an education to supplement my interest.  But I also knew that I was looking for something more than marketing courses.  I wanted an experience that would change my attitude as a professional.  In the confines of a school, I had a safe environment in which I could take chances, learn new things and even fail honorably if that meant that I learned something in the process.  As I introspected on my prior years as a student in the US, I realized that I had a fear of failure and was obsessed about grades.  During business school, I kept repeating to myself that I had quit my job not just to get good grades but to find professors and peers who would help me discover things about myself and evolve as a professional.  Good grades had to be a byproduct of a sound learning experience.  There was going to be no two ways about that.  That was when two people changed my life forever.  One was Randy Pausch, whom I have written about and spoken about at multiple places.  The other was Robert Kelley.  Professor Kelley taught a class called, “Developing Star Performers.”  A second-year student had casually mentioned that it was a very “different” course.  It was one of those electives that I was on the fence on at the time of signing up for different courses.  But I decided to take it anyway since the title definitely held intrigue!

On Day 1 of this course, sitting in a huge auditorium amidst 60-70 other students, I was eager to see the kind of tone that the Professor was going to set.  Was this going to be a series of platitudes about star performers?  Since the reading material for the course was his own book, would this course just be an advertisement for his book?  Or, was it going to be something else?  Well, 20 minutes into the session, I knew the answer.  He started off with a quiz on star performers vs. average performers.  He asked us to answer True/False to a series of statements.  Statements such as, “Star performers have higher IQs than average performers.”  “Star performers have better innate leadership qualities,” etc.  Once we took the quiz, he blindsided us with something.  He said that all those statements were false!  Amidst a bunch of “what the heck” responses from students, he said something that changed me as a professional forever.  What separates star performers from the rest is not what they have but how they use what they have.  Pause to read that line again since my entire write-up is a tribute to Professor Kelley for having come up with that.  This was the set up for a discussion of the “star performer model” where he listed a set of important traits and behaviors that star performers excel in, such as taking initiative, building a knowledge network and engaging in self-management.   The fact that he created this model based on extensive research at companies such as AT&T, 3M and Hewlett Packard also gave me the confidence that he did not pluck these out of thin air and instead, these were observed behaviors of star performers. 

Today (as of Dec 2013), having worked for nearly five years after business school, I can reflect on my career pre-MBA (my five years as a software engineer) vis-à-vis post-MBA and state that the years after my MBA have been more fulfilling and rewarding.  The ghosts of self-doubt that had seeped into me during my years of high school had only been partly exorcised during my initial successful years as a student in the US.  Kelley’s course really was the starting point for me to get rid of the residue!  Through his chapters on taking initiative and building a knowledge network, he convinced me that I had it in me – just like anyone else – to engage in certain behaviors and transform myself into a star performer.  In other words, the one that had to truly make me feel empowered was not my manager (though a supportive manager helps!) but really, myself.  In the past five years, a lot of the successes that I have had have been a result of following some of the sound pieces of advice that he has provided in his book.  Though I don’t consider myself a star performer yet, I know that I will feel a sense of accomplishment just in my attempt to become one.

I am 32 years old.  And, I have many more years as a professional to come.  And, in those years, one thing that I will look to as a feedback loop of sorts is Professor Kelley’s book.  Just in case any demons stop by to say, Hello!

Inspirations (11 of 25) - Balaji Balasubramaniam (BB)

Inspirations (11 of 25) – Balaji Balasubramaniam (BB)

An accessible expert

Two things that make modern film criticism a very unenviable task are 1. It is difficult to write a review that is accessible yet is professional enough to merit serious thought and 2. For those that don’t get paid to write film reviews, it requires tremendous commitment and time management skills to watching films and writing analytical pieces in addition to one’s day job and spending quality time with family.  One person that has managed to do both of these successfully for close to 15 years is Balaji Balasubramaniam (aka) BB, a software engineer by profession and a film critic by choice (http://www.bbthots.com)

One of the things that I admire a lot about BB is how much he has evolved as a critic.  Without any formal training in film criticism, he has, over the years, managed to combine his love for writing and love for the movies with an increasingly analytical approach to writing that goes beyond just calling a film good or bad and instead, makes interesting observations.  The best part of it is that he has managed to always keep his writing accessible to the lay person who might be thrown off by fancy language or film jargon.  His reviews of “Match Point” (http://bbthots.blogspot.com/2006/05/match-point.html) and “Iruvar” (http://bbthots.com/reviews/) are cases in point.  In the former, you will see how he makes a very keen observation of Emily Mortimer’s character in his masterful review of Woody Allen’s masterpiece.  And in the latter, note how he draws our attention to how Prakash Raj makes concerted efforts to make things happen while things just happen to the Mohan Lal character.  This is a far cry from his early reviews where he made comments like, “a nice movie without a single boring moment.”  I say this not to take a cheap shot but rather, as an attempt to express my admiration at how much he has grown as a writer just out of his own interest and passion. 

Clarity of thought and economy of words are things that you will observe not only in his film essays but also his travel entries, book reviews and lovingly written pieces about his children.  I think it is safe to say that my own writing has improved thanks to reading his reviews.  When I met with him in person a couple of weeks back, I told him how, for instance, his “Hey! Ram” review introduced me to the term, tour de force! 

An accessible inspiration

Over the past few months, I was absolutely certain that I wanted to include BB in my list of inspirations.  But I took a while to form my thoughts as to why I considered him an inspiration as opposed to merely a very good writer whose blog I follow.  The reasons are two-fold.  The first reason is that I took not only reviewing films but also watching films seriously after reading his reviews.  In the 90s, I used to be a huge fan of DS Ramanujam, the film critic who wrote many a memorable essay on Tamil films for “The Hindu.”  But my moving to the US in the late 90s coincided with his retirement and as a result, there was hardly a film reviewer whose writing inspired me to watch films with a keen eye.  But very quickly, I discovered BB’s site to be a must-read as I awaited video cassettes (yes, they were in existence just a decade ago!) of Tamil movies at our Indian store in Memphis, Tennessee.  Even though I am not nearly as prolific as he is, his writings inspired me to watch movies with an analytical eye and approach film criticism with a level of maturity that would be expected of, say, a book reviewer. 

The second, more practical reason why I consider him an inspiration is that he continues to inspire me to manage my time well and create time for writing, which is something that I am passionate about.  When it comes to engaging in hobbies that demand creativity and focus, we invariably hide behind the convenient excuse, “Oh, I have no time for this in the midst of my busy schedule!”  Over the years, the frequency of my writings has waxed and waned due to personal reasons.  But last month, my wife and I bought a new laptop (since our old one was practically unusable!) and I told my wife that I will use this purchase as an incentive to start writing at least an article a week.  All this might (rightfully) sound like mundane detail that might not deserve a place in an article about an “inspiration.”  But a lot of times, it is a lack of awareness of simple, self-imposed barriers that hinder our creativity.  Through a number of conversations that I’ve had with my wife in the recent past, I have realized that we both admire BB’s time management (we even asked him about it when we met with him recently) and commitment to engaging in a hobby that is not passive (like watching TV) but instead, is creatively stimulating.  As a recent TIME article pointed out, some people tend to mistakenly think that work (that we are assigned) tends to expand to fit the time that we have and that we don’t find enough time for the things that we truly want to do.  But the article made the crucial point that time will expand to fit the things that we truly want to focus on.  Thank you, BB, for driving home that counterintuitive line of thought. 

PS: I find it to be incredibly serendipitous that the first article that I write as part of my “one article a week” goal is about the person that inspired me to do so!

"Sridhar Ramanujam, 33 not out" - A short story

Sridhar Ramanujam, 33 not out
A short story by Ram Murali

Sridhar Ramanujam was a splendid timer of the cricket ball, whose cover drive was executed with supple wrists and effortless grace. But there is a good chance that hardly anybody outside of Tamil Nadu first- class cricket circles knew that. The year was 1993, a good 15 years before the Indian Premier League gave budding state level players a stage to display their talent alongside the cricket world’s international stars. Back then, cricketers who played for Tamil Nadu traveled by train to play cricket, stayed in hotels that had a few stars less than five and were paid an amount that was a tiny fraction of what was paid to the players in the Indian team. These were trivial non-issues for Sridhar, for he loved the game. Simply loved the game. And, he was good at it too.  But, was he good enough?

Sridhar had just turned 33 but was as fit as he was at 23. He had played 126 first class games, made 9215 runs and had scored 15 centuries. The number of Test matches that he played was zero, a number that, in the eyes of those few who had followed his career, did absolutely no justice to his talent. Some said, “Bad luck.” Others cited the instance when he got a chance to prove himself in the Irani Trophy match (often considered a make-or-break for Test selection) in 1988 but got out in single figures, thanks to a horrible lbw decision. Regardless of what others said, Sridhar continued to be positive and hoped for a break. On October 10th, he got a phone call from Mr. Venkat, a well-wisher and mentor of his in the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association. Sridhar was standing in the living room of his two-bedroom apartment with his cordless phone in one hand and his wallet and car key in another.

“Good morning, Sridhar. How are you?”

“Very fine, Sir. Nisha and I are just getting ready to do some Deepavali shopping. How are you, Sir?”

“Sridhar, can I talk to you for five minutes or are you in a hurry?”

“Can you give me one minute, Sir?”

Sridhar, with one hand on the speaker of his cordless phone, whispered to his wife, “Nisha, Venkat Sir says this is important. Perumal-a vendiko (Pray to God).” As Nisha went into the prayer room after showing him thumbs up, Sridhar sat down to continue his conversation.
“Sorry, Sir. Tell me.”

“Sridhar, you have been a great talent for Tamil Nadu. As you know, I am one of your biggest fans.”

The pace of Sridhar’s heart beat increased just a tad as he cut to the chase and said hurriedly, “Sir, is it bad news?”
“Sorry, pa. I feel very bad to tell you that you have not been selected for the South Zone team for the Duleep Trophy.”

If good news sometimes takes time to sink in, bad news can give one a sinking feeling in the flash of a second. Sridhar though, was always a floater.

Sridhar closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, “Sir, do you have any further feedback on my last season’s performance?”

“Oh Sridhar, of course you have always rendered yeoman service to Tamil Nadu. Last season, your century against Hydrebad was superb. But they’re looking to select youth for the South Zone team since they want to replace Amre before the Sri Lanka series.”

Sridhar had always wondered why Venkat always said, “they” when he gave him good or bad news. He had never asked who “they” were. This time, it was no different.

“Sir, I guess if they’ve decided that I’ve had enough chances, I can’t do much about it. Plus, as you said, the focus should be on youth, not me. Okay sir, anything else?”

“Continue to practice, Sridhar. I am sure your time will come.”

“Sir, maybe my time has come. Anyway, I promised to take Nisha to Kumaran’s (clothing store) today.  We will visit you for Deepavali to get your blessings.” “God bless you, pa.”

Mysterious are the blessings of God, thought Sridhar, as he walked into the prayer room. Nisha looked at him, stopped in the middle of her prayer and hugged him tightly. She said, “I am sorry.”  She had heard not one word of the conversation. It’s just that they had been married for eight years. Sridhar smiled at her and said, “Let’s go. Parking will be a hassle if we don’t leave now.”
***
That night, after dinner, Sridhar and Nisha were relaxing on the couch, watching Sun TV. He lowered the TV volume one notch and said to Nisha, “I’d like to discuss something with you.”

Nisha replied, “Sridhar, come here come here. I just felt a kick! Place your hand on my tummy.”

Sridhar placed his hand on Nisha’s tummy, eagerly awaiting the next kick. Nisha said to him, “Tell me now.”

“One minute. Let me first feel the kick!”

They looked at each other without saying anything. Sridhar felt the kick. He kissed Nisha on her forehead and said, “Nisha, I want to call it a day.”

Nisha could usually predict what Sridhar would say when he got pensive but this time, she was taken aback.

“No no no, you can’t, Sri. This is very impulsive, so unlike you. Please reconsider for my sake.”

“Nisha, I started playing cricket when I was nine. In the last 24 years, this game has meant a lot to me. But as I look ahead, I don’t see a future for me in the game. I am not getting any younger.”

“But you are super fit. Remember the catch that you took a long-on in the Goa game, Venkat Sir said that it reminded him of Madan Lal.”

“But once you are over 30, it is a barrier. I even had a conversation with Venkat Sir once about mental maturity and how I was peaking two years ago in all the facets of my game, both technical and mental. But the call never came.”

“You still enjoy the game, Sri. Don’t you think you should play till you’re at least 35?”

“Vijay Merchant once said that you should quit when people ask ‘Why?’ and not, Why not?’”

“Forget about Vijay Merchant. I really think you’re overreacting. The thing is, this is not like you.”

“No, Nisha. I did think about it this afternoon when you were taking a nap. The way I see it, I can spend more time here with you and from Jan 14th, with the papa (baby) too. I can also concentrate more at work. Last year, my work suffered quite a bit because of all the traveling.”

By now, Nisha realized that Sridhar could not be convinced otherwise. She leaned on his shoulder and said, “Hey, there’s a Revathy movie releasing on Deepavali. Can we watch it?”

Sridhar guffawed and said, “Yeah, ‘Marupadiyum.’ I heard that it’s a remake of ‘Arth.’ ‘Arth’ was very heavy. Let’s think about it later. Go to sleep now.”

At around 3:00 am, Nisha woke up to drink a glass of milk. She saw that Sridhar was still awake, going through the scrapbook in which Nisha had compiled photographs and newspaper articles on Sridhar. 

She noticed Sridhar’s eyes were a little moist. She said to him, “Get some sleep, Sri.”

He replied, “You know, I just feel bad that I never got to make an impact. I mean, at the international level. Zero impact. That’s what I feel bad about.”

Nisha, in a bid to ease the tension, said, “Make an impact on me now by getting me some milk!” Both of them broke into laughter instantly. The wound healed temporarily. But the pain remained.
***
The next morning, Sridhar went to the beach for his usual morning run, wearing his worn out pair of shoes. When he returned, he noticed a brand new pair of running shoes and a pair of sandals outside his apartment.

As he entered the living room, he saw his teammate Vinay and Vinay’s wife drinking tea. He said to Vinay, “Enna Pudhu Maaple (newly married), this early?”

As Nisha walked in from the kitchen with a tray of biscuits, Vinay said, “Sir, I have some good news. Venkat Sir called me yesterday to tell me that I’ve been selected for the South Zone team. I wanted to tell you this in person and get your blessings since this will be my Duleep Trophy debut.”

Sridhar put his arm around Vinay’s shoulder and said, “Congrats, da! I am so proud of you. I always tell Nisha that you will go places. See, I am right!”

Nisha shook hands with Vinay’s wife and said, “Congratulations, Vidhya! Vinay, Vidhya is your good luck charm!”

Vinay smiled bashfully and said, “Yes, akka (sister). She is! Sridhar Sir, you are a big reason why I am playing in Duleep Trophy.”

As Sridhar and Nisha sported quizzical looks at each other, Vinay continued, “I don’t know if you remember, Sir. Before my first game for Tamil Nadu two years ago, I was sitting near the pavilion rope, twiddling my thumbs. You put your arm on my shoulder and took me for a walk around the ground. I actually don’t remember much of what we spoke about but one thing I remember clearly. As we walked past the D stand, you told me that the fans who sit on the uncomfortable benches and cheer for us, those are the ones that matter, that as long as we can make them happy with our style of playing, that we must consider ourselves lucky. You told me that enjoying ourselves is the most important thing because that enjoyment is very infectious. That really…that really made a huge impact on me, Sir.”

Sridhar looked at Nisha, gave an acknowledging smile and said to Vinay, “Best of luck, Vinay. I am sure you will do well.”

By the time Vinay and his wife left the house, Sridhar’s pain had vanished for good.

*** THE BEGINNING...***