I wanted to move to another table to save myself from getting upset and reacting, or maybe I was just saving said Mallu….the outdoors had been moved into the indoors, there were no free tables. And thus I had to suffer this kind of depiction of India for another half hour as I went through the soup and main course. Good meal, stupid India, didn’t gratify.
As far as I am concerned, his passing was no longer a matter of sympathizing or for that matter empathizing with someone else who has lost a dear one. This is as close to home as it can get. This is Papa. Papa was special. He wasn’t just papa, he was my friend. My friend is gone, and he’s not coming back, ever….
So, the kid is at school, a new phase of his life, away from home, away from all things familiar, away from family, away from friends, new friends to be made, a life ahead of him. A life for him to shape the way he wants it.
The instructions then, for Round Two were to judge the twenty six who made it through the elims out of the two hundred fifty odd who had initially applied. Not only were we to judge but also mentor and that’s a bit of a trick. Only twelve will make the grade this time, and move on to Round Three.
There are some things that just set me off, one of them is misinterpretation of age-old Indian traditions, culture and doctrine handed down through generations from Father to Son, from Guru to Disciple, from Mother to Daughter. So when people start banding the institution of Guru, I get set off.
Startup success sin’t measured purely in terms of funds invested. The Punt or the exit isn’t the measure of success, Profits are.