Sunday, April 23, 2017

The Price of Perfection

It's no big secret that I am a perfectionist. I'm driven by results and I'm stubborn until I get it. I get complimented many a times for being a dedicated and hard-working person.

But is perfectionism good?

To answer this question, I felt it is pertinent to analyse the reasons that watered this certain characteristic in me. I feel our education system has made me ruthlessly competitive. Over the years, the social approval that came associated with academic success fueled my desire to study hard. I enjoyed the process and everything was rosy and nice.

However this came with its drawbacks that I have been noticing only lately. This attitude came with subtle messages that I did not realize even existed. It has sowed tendrils of doubt and a deep fear of failure. I treated failure as an obstacle that is to be quickly crossed by redoubling effort. It had strongly bound my happiness to quantifiable success. If not quantifiable, at least by the approval of others.

There came a moment in my life where the Universe I carefully constructed with hard work came crashing down like a pack of cards. The societal approval disappeared, the results evaporated and all my efforts were in vain. I could feel the haunting fear in the pit of my tummy that failure was imminent. I increased my efforts so much that it bordered on desperation. I learned later that there is some wisdom in the phrase "haste makes waste".

Soon, in every facet of my life I was facing failure, be it personal or professional. As far as the eye could see, there was only darkness. Who am I, if not for my results? What do I believe in?

I was struck by an identity crisis so clear that I felt like a bleak helpless baby once again.

Thankfully, in the 21st century, every individual has a lot of tools to help themselves. I'm grateful to my friends, family and the Internet for pulling me through. I don't see the light yet but I feel I'm getting there.

Part of the healing comes with the acceptance. This blog post is my way of accepting my flaws and working with them.

Perfectionism is not bad as such. Without it, I would not be where I am today. However, when it developed low self-esteem and the craving for validation due to external mismatches of expectation, it became a monster that devoured me.

So next time I see failure approaching me, I will not bulldoze it with hard work. I will face it, bite the bullet and learn from it. My life is not a statistic. When life is firing cannon balls at me, it's better to build an armour of self love than let it batter my soul.

Dedicated to every lip biting perfectionist out there - you are enough :)

Monday, February 20, 2017

For the Love of Me

"What is emotional branding?", the voice of the instructor thundered across the class. The glint of her immaculately starched saree in the brightly lit room caught Lavanya's eye. "What an oxymoron", she thought. How could marketing ever be emotional? There is no ethics in business. A business exists to sell itself. A detached voice describing something "emotional" in an austere manner did nothing to impress her about the topic.

As this seemed to be the buzz in marketing, she thought she should take her training seriously. But her scepticism got the better of her. How can one be forced to be emotional to cater to making money? This form of marketing seemed to rely on poetry that cannot be commanded.

Lavanya's position in the company wasn't great and she knew it. She had to pull off the hair-oil commercial as soon and as effectively as possible. What could make her pitch stand out?

There are few typical ads that the brand already had - the dramatic visualisation of hair and the promise of spectacular results(with appropriate disclaimers in fine text as well). What could she possibly do to impress them? What would make their brand linger?

She contemplated stressing on the the minimal use of chemicals. Perhaps that would appeal to a wider audience.

As these thoughts had strayed into Lavanya's mind, the instructor was sternly looking at her, though she was oblivious to it. After a few goosebumps, Lavanya jumped out of her reverie and pretended to take notes.

After the session, she stepped out of her glass prison for a break. She hated her work. She was tired of failing every pitch. As she walked into the canteen, she was flooded with offers for Valentine's day. As if she needed anything else to ruin her day! Married to a job she did not love, she had no time for relationships.

She moodily bought her food and sat alone in a corner. In this consumerist era, how could she pitch an ad that connected with someone? She herself was so irritable that it seemed impossible that she had the capacity to make any other person happy, let alone millions of viewers.

A curl of hair fell on the table. No matter how disconnected she was with fashion, hair was her weakness. If at all anyone can pitch an ad for hair oil, it had to be her. When she was a child, her biggest nightmare was to wake up with no hair.

Perhaps it was the nourishment that was firing her brain cells. She thought about how superficial society had made her feel about hair. The fact that the loss of hair was something mortifying seemed laughable logically.

She finished her solitary meal and walked to the wash-basins. As she caught herself in the mirror, she couldn't help sighing at the sight of her new hair-cut. It was supposed to give her confidence but it changed nothing about how she felt about herself.

Confidence. There is so much of beauty in confidence and self-love. She had grown old with fear and disappointment. What would she not do to be the happy and cheerful person she was a few months ago?

Confidence. For centuries, women have been sold upon the idea that looks equal confidence. Lavanya knew that wasn't true. How could she use her ad to make someone feel confident?

And suddenly, the story line for the ad came in one glorious moment of inspiration. What if she confronted her fears, took away the superficial and came up with an idea that oozed with confidence? What if someone could feel good and hopeful seeing her ad? She was nervous about the idea but she felt some inkling of hope. She started liking herself more for coming up with the idea.

Thus, she came up with an ad about a cancer survivor who returns to work, bald and proud. Her own insecurities helped her come up with an endearing screenplay that helped her win the pitch. It helped her regain her confidence little by little and love what she does to the best of her conscience. So this Valentine's day, she realised she has begun falling in love again - with herself!


This post was written for Chennai Bloggers Club February Contest in association with woodooz and Indian Superheroes. I was paired with marketing tech professional - Subhashini who wrote the technical details of marketing here. Go watch the ads there! 

Sunday, February 12, 2017

The Story of how I Began Cooking

I find someone's views on cooking to be the litmus test of whether I can see eye-to-eye with a person or not. For example, a very good friend of mine commented that he found it odd that a group of female room-mates had a cook. I was speechless. I'm not going to bother arguing that statement because what is wrong with that is absolutely apparent. So every time some one asks me whether I know how to cook, I always say no because it makes the conversation much more interesting :)

I contemplated long and hard whether to write this post :P

I was addicted to packet soups and noodles. Nearly every day I used to have them. Obviously, that did not bode well with my health. I developed a stone in each kidney when I was 21.

After that, there was a blanket ban on any of these "instant" items.

But, winter was coming.

I tried. I made do with rasam for a while. Sometimes, just hot water. But I was an addict. I was having withdrawal symptoms. Something had to be done fast :P

So, I swallowed my pride. And I asked my mother to make a soup from scratch.

This led to an hour long monologue where my ungratefulness over two decades was stressed. It ended with the usual statement referring to the fact that my age is that of four donkeys.

With no other option left, I wrestled my ego and placed my right foot inside the kitchen. With a smart-phone connected to YouTube, I attempted to make an onion soup.

The searches were so contrived.

Chop onions finely.
How to chop onions finely?
Saute onions till translucent.
What does saute mean?

After half an hour, I tested it on my family for possible poisoning. To my complete amazement, they liked it. Or at least pretended to. I started dusting the china at home and taking out soup bowls that my parents hadn't used since their wedding.

Then, there has been no turning back. Soups, pastas, appetisers and anything I don't get at home were experimented and burnt and re-attempted and arranged beautifully for photos on Instagram.

Because that's what's important isn't it?

In conclusion, cooking isn't a big deal. The trick is in the recipe. There is no magic secret that you need to know. If you love to eat, you'll love to cook as well :)

This post was inspired by my weekend experiment to make potato chips at home.

P.S. To those of the unlikely people interested in the recipe that's available everywhere on the Internet, you cut potatoes very thinly, keep them in water for at least half an hour and then dry them thoroughly and fry. I microwaved them.