Analyzing Expertise
When I was a child, the word “expert” gleamed in my thoughts like a star. I thought of experts as someone special. They had higher degrees. They wrote books. They appeared on television. I assumed they had access to knowledge that the rest of us could hardly aspire to.
But as I grew older, my notion of expertise changed. The shift began when it occurred to me that my parents were experts. Silly for me and my education system (particularly my education in English language) I foolishly thought of my parents as not being particularly knowledgeable. But as I grew older, I realized they both had their fields of expertise.
My mother was a master cook. She knew exactly how to mix, how much heat to apply to a mixture, for how long to produce a particular kind of curry and she could make curries that were elegant and exquisitely delicious. My father was a legal expert, a challenging and complex trade, which he practiced for years in Hyderabad. He was also a poet in Urdu.
Like all expertise, my parents’ skills came from years of observation, practice, experimentation and work.
Becoming aware of my parents’ expertise opened my eyes to what it really means to be an expert. I began seeing expertise all around me—expert shopkeepers, teachers, accountants, telephone operators, carpenters, shoe menders. I watched many become experts at raising children, balancing budgets, managing households, entertaining, offering emotional support, organizing events and many other things.
Then, I realized that I am an expert too. Discovering my personal expertise was an important step that made me write as strong as it can be in a language that does not belong to my forefather and is not mine.
RISE ABOVE
WHAT ARE YOU AN EXPERT AT? Think about the skills you have perfected over the years. Think about the things you pride yourself in, the tasks you are especially good at. What do people come to you for advice on? What kinds of things do you know that others may not?
Don’t say you are not an expert at anything. You absolutely are. Recognize your own expertise and Say it out loud:
I AM AN EXPERT AT _______________.
Post Script:
FOR FELLOW WRITERS…
When you write, claim your expertise. Write with an awareness of your own unique skills and knowledge. That awareness will show up on the page as strength, sureness, authority and passion. When you acknowledge your own expertise, your writing will become brighter, clearer and more confident.
Look Around to Beat the Block
I woke up gasping for breath. It was 4am. The nightmare had startled me. I stealthily moved past my wife, Gayathri and son Harsh because it was too early in the day. After slowly sipping a glass cool water from the ‘matka’ (earthen pot), a sense of normalcy and mental equilibrium were restored.
As the black-eyed Sr. Content/Copy Writer of a leading Hospital Group of India, I was tipped to be the next big communications guy in the corporate world. But on this particular morning, fear took over my sense of sanity, my creativity having gone kaput. I failed to understand how I was unable write a script for a promotional video campaign I was working on.
I recalled, with a heavy heart, the sequence of events from the previous evening. My boss had called me and exhorted, “Listen, Sanjay, we are making a promotional video on preventive health for social media. I want a brilliant copy… Not some thrash. Remember, YOU ARE NOT writing for a nursing home. You are writing for one of the top healthcare brands of the world
Returning to my seat, I whacked my brains but fell short of my own expectations. Better counsel saw me leave for home. I went in vain to the bookstore to get my hands on some of the recent best-sellers. However, I failed to get any sleep. Now sipping cool ‘matka’ water, I wondered if Peter’s Principles were staring me in the face. Have I reached a saturation point? I shuddered at the thought.
Around 6:30 am, Gayathri brought him a cup of coffee and went to get ready for the day’s chores. Harsh breezed in with a “good morning pappa! I have to rush to have a bath. Can you help me with my school bag and books?” But there was no respite for my early morning blues.
Later, while having yet another cup of coffee by a spot in the balcony, my eyes fell on a pair of Pigeons (a grey and a white one) on the top of the roof top of the other side of my apartments, just yonder. They were oblivious of my presence, engaged as they were in a battle of one-upmanship, literally.
A piece of cloth was dangling on the edge of the roof top, stuck to a bamboo stick. Each was trying to outwit the other to get hold of the tattered piece. I was so absorbed in the amazing Tom and Jerry-inspired melodrama that for some time trivia like my assignments and deadlines were far from my mind.
“Would they succeed in fulfilling the mission they have embarked upon? Would they continue undaunted or give up after a few attempts?” I wondered.
The pigeons were in no mood to give up, though. They were apparently made of sterner stuff. After a mutual compromise of sorts, the grey pigeon made way for his `senior’ to try its hand.
With no competition, the rejuvenated pigeon meticulously cut a lining and Eureka, it took the shred to another rooftop and placed it at a vantage position. Thus, assured of its conquest’s safety, it came back again and again, eventually shifting the entire cloth to the newfound haven.
The sense of déjà vu, the pronto celebration after the methodical and diligent attempts, the never-say-die spirit they embodied came as an instantaneous wake-up call to me.
Inspired by the pigeons’ dogmatic fortitude to overcome impossible odds, I was almost at once transformed. The dauntless exuberance exemplified by the pigeons spurred him on to a new high.
Bolstered thus, I dashed off to my office and began thinking of a suitable script for the promotional video. My energy was bubbling and my mind was on top gear. The flow of thoughts and words were amazingly crisp.
Lo presto! The good old Sanjay was back. Hitting peak form, I came up with a script that was not only good but fetched record ‘likes’ and ‘shares’ on social media for the company.
I dedicated the success to those two pigeons. They taught me a lesson that no institute, no management guru had ever imparted. It was the need to rekindle creativity while braving all odds at the hour of reckoning.
DECIDED TO BE A WRITER? LISTENING TO MY INNER CALLING…
So… you’ve decided to be a WRITER.
CONGRATS! …Or I should say… “MY DEEP CONDOLENCES”
You’re in for a life time of UNCERTAINTY.
Family, friends, loved ones…BE PREPARED TO LOSE THEM.
This road can be a LONELY ONE
But…Don’t worry,
You’ll make ACQUAINTANCES.
Their names are…FEAR, ANXIETY, SELF-DOUBT…
They’ll be by your side forever
Through every EMBARRASSMENT and REJECTION
Always whispering in your ears, “YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.”
Yet, you live for that moment.
When the SPARK STRIKES…
…AND YOU TOUCH THE LIGHT
When NATURE SINGS, SKIES PART & GODS TREMBLE.
*CREATIVITY!* Nothing can compare to it.
It NOURISHES the SOUL… And ENRICHES the SPIRIT.
The SACRIFICES REPAID in Full
Or, at least that’s what you’ll tell yourself!
Four steps forward, two steps backward…
ON A JOURNEY THAT NEVER ENDS
But, don’t let me scare you
The decision was never yours to make
After all… YOU DON’T CHOOSE THE CALLING,
THE CALLING CHOOSES YOU.
— Idle Doodling by Sanjay Shukla, the Lonely Recluse
PS: Just wanted to say that I still suffer from extreme self-doubt, uncertainty and fear while writing… but, I also have lots of fun.
Inspired from quote by Steven Pressfield in his book, ‘The War of Art’: “The artist committing himself to his calling has volunteered for hell, whether he knows it or not. He will be dining for the duration on a diet of *isolation, rejection, self-doubt, despair, ridicule, contempt, and humiliation.”
Dear Pappa, I don’t know if I miss you
I feel pain every time I remember you, or see something you loved or hated or some random incident I know you would have commented about. Sometimes I know exactly what you would have said. I know the look on your face and the tone of your voice just like you were sitting next to me.
Those moments put an ache in my chest, but I don’t know if that’s me missing you.
Sometimes I think it’s just regret.
I know I wasted so much time, but even now, I can’t say what I could have done to avoid it. It always felt like you had an overwhelming need to teach me, guide me, or to protect me. But I always wanted your respect more than I needed your protection. Who knows? Maybe I didn’t, but it felt like I did.
I am writing this to you, though you have been dead for several years now. Though I know it’s too late I wish you can see these lines. I feel I must say some things to you, things I didn’t know when I was a boy in your house, and things I was too stupid to say.
It’s only now, after passing through the long, hard school of years; only now, when my own hair is gray, that I understand how you felt.
I want to do what we didn’t do enough of while you were alive. I want to tell you the truth about some things – the hard things. I am not embarrassed of being an adult, and yet feeling like a child now. I must have been a bitter trial to you. I was such a fool. I believed my own petty wisdom, and I know now how ridiculous it was, compared to that ripe, wholesome wisdom of yours.
I miss your awkward silences whenever I came late home. I miss your radical political thoughts and philosophies. Inspired, I led a procession against government’s reservation policy in my college and we had a huge argument after you came to know it. You believed in the boys don’t cry theory. You lived up to it. But I have seen you cry once. It was when the police swooped down on our house to arrest me for standing up for a cause and you didn’t know where they were taking me.
I miss feeling judged, and found lacking.
I miss having to fight for a hint of admiration from the man I admire most, only to have it given with a pound of correction.
I miss accomplishing something big, and you being the first person I call.
I miss Mummy having to play the peacemaker.
I miss having to bite my tongue trying to control my temper whenever we had arguments.
Like any son, I miss showing off for you.
I miss knowing I had just made you proud.
I miss just knowing you’re there.
Most of all – I miss the hope that somehow things between us might somehow get better with time, even though I knew they never would. I don’t have to wonder about that anymore now.
Pappa – you were always my greatest hero, my biggest disappointment, my harshest critic, and my sturdiest shoulder; and if you ever doubted how fiercely I loved you– then I’m sorry, Pappa, because I do.
I always have.
But, I’m still not sure I miss you….
Open Letter to a Doctor: Dear Doctor, I am More Than a Disease
Dear Doctor,
I am your patient. I am more than a disease, a number or a problem. I have a name. I may be 150000th patient to you. But you are the only ONE to me. I also have feelings, intelligence, passions and dreams for my life ahead. Like lakhs of people out there, I depend on myself and others depend on me with innumerable jobs and responsibilities. Like others, I am also motivated by the desire to help make this world a better place than I was born in.
Those books you read were written by someone like me. The chair you sit , the food you eat, the medical equipment you use, the house you live in, the roads you travel, the clothes you wear, the music you listen to and the security who keep your surroundings safe all exist because of someone like me.
All I am trying to do is live my life the best way I know how. When something goes wrong with my body, I depend on you to help me so I can go on living a life that has meaning; a life that I can be proud of, a life that will be a positive example to others after I am gone…
What I need from you is honesty; no more discussions about my condition in medical lingo with your fraternity keeping me right there. I am not afraid to hear the truth. What I need from you is compassion: not pity – rather a sense that you can imagine yourself in my shoes.
Dear Doctor, please don’t ever forget that everything you say to me has a potential healing power as well as the power to wound. Remember that I could be you and you could be me. We are in this together.
Hyderabad Movie Theaters; A Faded Memory Now
Here’s a list of some of the iconic standalone theatres in Hyderabad that have faded into oblivion. Hope this brings back some good old memories…
Yakut Mahal Theater – Developed during Nizam in 1934. 1952 movie like Aan (first full color) was exhibited here. They say, Nizam and his family used to watch movies here. There were separate seating arrangements for Ladies & Gents and a curtain used to separate them at the beginning, during interval and after the movie. Peerless Magnarc Projectors from the US, Chicago were used (still in use).
Zamrud Mahal Theatre – 1940: Known for movies like Awara, Jewel Theif, Naseeb (played close to one year). Right in the middle of Abids, Zamrud was one of the oldest and grandest in terms of its location, as far as Hindi movies were concerned. Huge posters of Hindi films (of course, they were painted then), were displayed all over the theatre. Heard there separate sitting for Male & Females and there used to be a curtain as a divider, as well. Funny!!! And, there used to be a break during Namaaz.
Sagar (Abids) – 1925: Aalam Aara – The first Talkie Movie – Heard that the moviegoers used to carry newspapers to burn below the benches to force the khatmal out….
Sudha, Alka, Asha – Shal-ali-banda (Old City) These three theaters use to be the pride of old city. Perfect spot for Hindi and Telugu moviegoers.
Sangeet Theatre -1969 – Ultra Stereo Optical Sound in 1994, a Digital Theatre System in 1995 – the first movie to showcased was “Camelot” . There were so many movies played here ‘Gone with the Wind’, ‘Falling in love’, ‘Oh God’, ‘All that Jazz’, ‘Dirty Dancing’ and so many more.
Anand Theatre: Located at SD Road, Secunderabad, was a cousin of Sangeet theatre.
Skyline, Sterling – 1990s: These theatres, a major landmark in Basheerbagh, were the Hollywood movie buff’s paradise. Blockbusters like Jumanji (Robin Williams), Chicago, Titanic, Golden Eye and many Bond movies had great runs here. The movies, Basic Instinct ran for close to an year in Sterling
Odeon – 70 MM, Deluxe, Mini Odeon: The complex at at RTC crossroads had three theatres, Odeon Deluxe, Odeon 70mm and Mini Odeon. They were entertainment hubs and popular release centres for Telugu movies for many years
Palace Theatre – This theatre was located at the corner near GPO and was quite spacious. It generally played Hindi movies. It seems there used to store near to it called Ajanta Cool Drinks. This Ajanta Cool Drinks only served cool drinks but had an elaborate set of rules one of which was that you cannot comb your hair in the store!
Navrang, Ashok and Vikranti – Side by side – The three theaters stood side by side on the busy Jamnagar road, almost at the junction of Mojamjahi market and played Hindi blockbusters all the time. – Don movie was played in one of the theater, Bobby and many more.
Maheshwari-Parmeshwari – Came in 1980’s, esclators were the major tourist attraction, first in public space. So many movies, “Mr.India”, “Saajan”, “Hum Aapke Hai Kaun”
Liberty – Himayatnagar-Tankbund Junction – English Movies – “Silent Movie” – 1976 – and “African Safari – 1968” – The Sound of Music and Guns of Navarone
Natraj, Ajanta – Clock Tower – During Rishi Kapoor’s “Karz” movie, there was big gramophone set up here which was the main of attraction at that time.
Dilshad Talkies – 1939: Old Hindi movies – Muqaddar Kaa Sikandar – 365 Days.
Ramakrishna 70 mm – Sholay – 532 Days – Deewaar – 365 days, Maine Pyar Kiya – 365 days.
Other notable mentions:
Lata theatre (Nampally), Santhosh-Sapna (Abids), Farheen-Shaheen (later became Surya), Basant Talkies (Kachiguda), Sham-Regal (Lakdi-ka-pul), Sai Kishore (Narayanaguda)… each one has its own story, its own chunk of history, in its own language!
A Tale of Hope in Adversity
I was severely sick and hospitalised after positive results of the COVID-19 test in February 2021. I got up slowly from my hospital bed, leaned into the washbasin and splashed some water on my face.
Suddenly, I was coughing uncontrollably, gasping for my breath. Dont know what caused this reaction… whether it was lung infection, exertion or a panic from the realization that I had COVID-19. She came running towards me. Not away from me!
I could not put my mask back and hence, my coughing would have meant sending virus into the air around, with force. But, there she was, running towards me. She was passing through the corridor. Heard my sound (may be an unintentional plea).
Realized I needed help. She had no protection on, except for the mask. She was not yet geared up for her shift that was about to begin. Yet, she rushed towards me. Held me. Made me sit, gently patted all over my back, eased up my breath and called for help. All this happened, may be in just 2 minutes. Then, they connected me to oxygen. And she kept telling me that I am going to be alright, all the while.
She knew the risk of coming so close to a highly infected patient coughing not wearing a mask. She surely knew that she was not well protected. Yet, she CHOSE to rush towards me. I could not even express my gratitude except through my eyes filled with gratitude & gratefulness.
Head Nurse: Gayathri.. She has a family. Kids waiting for her to be home, safe. After each shift that felt so tiring and as if extending into eternity, she could choose not to turn up at the hospital. She chose to show up. Am so very sure, she would have done similar act of kindness to anyone, not just me. If these are not acts of selflessness, compassion, care and bravery … what else are? Hospitals/Healthcare facilities are so full of those Angels like her.
Different names, different designations and different locations. Patient’s Religion, Region, Class, Caste, Age, Gender . . .NO BAR. Life simply is an Act of Love. And BREATH, the cause of life, needs no barriers. We are all the same there. Together!
Yes, I get it that we need to maintain distance, stay apart physically. We need to be careful. But, we do not have to run ‘away’ from and abandon each other.
Hope lies in Support, in whatever form.
That is what the thousands of Gayathri_jis of the world are standing for 🙏🙏🙏
— By Sanjay Shukla ‘Jigyasu’
Bounce Back! No Matter What.
Live Life to the Hilt!!!
Two decades back, I experienced one of my most serious depressive episodes that ended up nearly taking my life. But, through a series of events, both of mis- and fortune, I survived. Usually, it’s recommended to take about two years off from any stressful work before returning to full society, but I was not seeking any sort of professional help back then and remained undiagnosed.
Well, the cost of getting professional help was not within the reach of a rookie writer like me. I did not have the budget for hospital or clinical care. It was a long and devastating uphill battle to get back to normal life. I still have the after effects…
And then, came a whiff of fresh air giving me a new lease of life. Thanks to that “lovely one” for being there.
I dedicate *(to myself)* a short poem, “Invictus” by “William Ernest Henley”, in memory of those days.
“Out of the night that covers me…
…Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods maybe…
… For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance…
…I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeoning of chance…
My head is bloody but unbowed.
“Beyond this place of wrath and tears…
…Looms but the horror of shade.
And yet the menace of years…
…Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate…
…How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate…
…I am the captain of my soul.”
—- The Lonely Recluse
Love, Hope, and Joy
LOVE, HOPE, and JOY
These three flowers of fruitful life
Scatter their precious perfume and wings of angels.
Their unseen power transforms worlds ugliness to beautiful vision,
Storms of anger to gentle peace, And brute passion to Divine affection.
Hope & Love
My touch will kindle hope in your heart
I shall reside in your soul as peace.
My love will fill you with bliss
Fear not, but walk forward with faith
My hand is your safety.