I have not posted here for three months now. About as long as it has taken me to accept the offer from McKinsey. Finally, my iPhone notes have taken shape as my last post for 2011. Which inevitably has to be a ramble. In no particular order.
On music.
Once more, I yearned to be reborn. For music. With music.
On possibility.
I have picked up some cues from close friends on the theme of possibility. On going back to school. On giving back to society. On writing that book. On backing that dream by plainly acting on it.
On cost.
Leaving Vopak was one of the most difficult decisions in my life. Bidding adieu to what has been the most enjoyable work environment in all my career. Worst of all, I leave hurting some people. Who had bet on giving me an opportunity; a break that I had used well. Too well. I take away an important lesson. On the cost of not pursuing what you truly want. Of taking a step that feels good, but you know is not towards where you want to go. You hurt people. Who have had nothing to do with your aimless wandering. Who have only been generous.
Giving up a good thing is more painful than having it taken away.
On Thatha.
I was never that close to Thatha. Or, I have not been, over the years that I have been away from India (15 to the day). My most vivid memories of him are from our annual summer holidays in Srirangam. Each year indistinguishable, yet no less enjoyable than the one past. Many things about me are invariably linked to a gene or two from his stock. My affinity for words - language, to be more precise. For photography. For books. My colour-blindness. And, as I recently realised, the infinite pleasure that I derive from and during a good shave. I do a lot of my thinking while shaving. Many ridiculous ideas, which have then gone on to affect the course of my life, have taken shape during the early morning ritual in front of the foggy mirror. Recently, I have given myself the allowance of relaxing in the hairdresser's chair at a Japanese salon, at least once a month. Just to feel good. Haircut, shampoo, shave. I remembered his daily ritual. Played out in front of us, every summer morning. The short stool. The hand mirror. The fine brush. The barber's soap. The double-edged razor blade. The after-shave. Today, my ritual. Rest in peace.
On investing.
This year was a terrible one for those of us looking for the great investment opportunity. Perhaps, I should have invested in myself. A truly unexpected series of events has resulted in a doubling of earnings, after all.
On hard work.
If there is one thing I really admired about and learnt from Ian, it is the virtue of relentless hard work. Considering what I have signed up for, that is a lesson to keep handy.
On age.
The day I saw the little boy execute a clear running jump over a garbage bin almost as tall as me. I cringed. About days long gone.
On progress.
When I was working on my photography and had an ah moment. On how lessons I had learnt in those first few months were now instinctive and ingrained. I could spot my own progress.
On decision-making.
Scissors-Paper-Stone when deciding which frame to pick.
On identity.
I am Anxious Man (as described by James Lasdun).
I am not my resume. I am not the sum of my experience, but of my experiences.
On reminiscing.
Walking to Keppel Club. Stephen Fry on the iPad. Down Dunearn Court and Chiltern Park in memory lane.
On hypocrisy.
Finding out that China lets the highest proportion of its women work, and India the lowest. A few hours after remarking to self that the Communist Party junket in Yangpu, Hainan was nothing but a testosterone-fueled orgy.
Seeing white friends who uphold the ideal of gender equality as practised in the West, make a beeline to the reddest-lit districts in Indonesia and Vietnam, because the going there is just a lot easier.
Wondering how the biggest deals get done by people waking up with the worst hangovers.
On communal hygiene.
How my home society has no conception of it.
On grief.
Do all those people who weep for Steve Jobs really feel grief - at the death of a salesman? No, thinks Max Hugo.
On Vopak.
Visionaries at the top.
Exceptional businessmen. Leo. Mark.
Friends for life.
No pretense.
The external interface.
The red carpet.
KNOC. EIPL. Balikpapan. Hastings.
Great manager. Deficient leader.
I met a Dutchman. The expensive solution to every problem. Petty when it comes to corporate subscriptions.
Write a report. Destroy a soul.
Analysis paralysis.
Cycle of exhaustion.
On 2011.
Surely, the most interesting year in my life yet.
Another year of marital bliss.
Turning 30.
Stepping out of a shell.
Two more jobs for me. One less for Apple.
The ultimate gift to God. At the Wankhede.
Asia Renewables. Self-renewal. Joanna coach.
Going fully digital with the Economist.
My first e-book. The biography of Steve Jobs. Read on an iPad 2.
Bhutan and the Himalayan Dreams.
East Africa and the holiday of a lifetime that we nearly did not go on.
A half-marathon half-run.
Winning a camera in a lucky draw and giving it away to make someone's day.
A friend lost at sea. Many years too soon.
Farewell to Thatha. After a full life.
Swinging clubs. Pushing pedals. Lifting weights.
First time on the A380.
The first few meals of Julie's.
Blissful weekends like the one of 20 November that went: Holland Village with friends, Toast Box, Neighbours over for home-cooked lunch, Affordable Art Fair, Baliwag Manok & Sanskruti at Lau Pa Sat, The Ides of March, Stephen Fry, Golf. Happy.
