Working Out Movie

The best way to keep up with what is trending on Netflix is to combine it with my workout. Recently, I watched Secret Superstar this way over a couple of days. There is much to like about the movie for a variety of reasons not to mention the one song that stuck like an earworm for days. To my desi self raised on a mix of Hindustani and Western classical music with a fair share of songs from old Bengali and Hindi movies thrown in, this tune was about musical umami. There was a little bit of everything I am familiar with in perfect balance. It carried me to a slower pace, an older time closer to the India I was familiar with it.

But most unfortunately, there were some triggers there too. The abusive father of the main character; his reign of terror in the house brought back memories I would much rather forget. It made me wonder if our domestic help I knew from age ten to the time I left India was still alive, if at some point she stopped being beaten and bruised all over by her delinquent husband, if her kids had finally rescued her from the hell I had seen her live in for years; if I would ever see her again.

M was like a second mother to me, a different kind of mother than my own but not less important. I remember in my teens, talking to her about how she could escape and become free. And how there were only dead-ends in her life - with illiteracy, six children that could not do without her and the endless grind of poverty. Unlike the movie where we are given a happy ending, none of my ill-conceived plans had a chance to deliver M.

There is a terrible sense of hopelessness that goes with being a woman who has choice as I did, to be a bystander in the life of another who has none. There is this thick, impenetrable glass wall that separates you both. You have the unique misery of  watching the pain everyday and no ability to make it go away. The facts of her life could not be altered, there was no way to swoop in and rescue her. So you talk about remedies that don't and can't work for her. Learn to live with the guilt and shame of not doing your part, not using your privilege to help those who need it most. Makes you wonder if you even deserve it.

I know she loved me dearly and was my most unabashed fan. I remember the pride in her voice when she spoke of me to just about anyone; the times she gave me a bit of what she cooked for her family on Diwali and Pongal. Those may have well been the best meals of my life. When I think of M, I see her big smile and boundless energy. There was an inner spark in her that nothing could dim. Watching the movie made me think about her influence on me and how she shaped my womanhood subconsciously. 

I hope I have lived my life in a way that would still make her as proud as my silly accomplishments as a kid once did.

Lo and Behold

Watched Lo and Behold today and there was a lot to ponder about. It's hard to go a week without reading something about AI taking us over much like in episodes of Black Mirror. This documentary traverses the path from the beginning of the internet in UCLA in 1969 to the present with a variety of experts weighing in on what the future holds.

I found this simple explanation Elon Musk provided in the movie very helpful in clarifying where the problem with AI lies

“I think that the biggest risk is not that the AI will develop a will of its own but rather that it will follow the will of people that establish its utility function.” 

He goes on to illustrate his point with an example

“If it is not well thought out—even if its intent is benign—it could have quite a bad outcome. If you were a hedge fund or private equity fund and you said, ‘Well, all I want my AI to do is maximize the value of my portfolio,’ then the AI could decide, well, the best way to do that is to short consumer stocks, go long defense stocks, and start a war.”

The most beautiful and memorable part of the movie was the segment where Ted Nelson was speaking of his epiphany at age five that formed the basis of his life's work. 

Nelson's use of language as he describes this event makes the best case for technology related disciplines benefiting tremendously from a strong humanities background. I could not help wanting to show this video to anyone student of humanities who ever said they are not good with math and science.

The Proverbial Canary

There won't be a Toys R Us because millennials are not having babies. I personally know of several members of that generation who are choosing not to take off as adults. At my place of work we did a millennial trend study that confirmed much of what we casually observe of this generation. They either live with their parents or share a place with an assortment of roommates because those are cheaper options. Neither is conducive to family building or long term relationships. The partners come and go along with the changing patchwork of gigs that form their income stream. There is no desire to own anything of substantial value and to that end not much desire for professional stability or advancement. 

If there are only three bills to pay each month and that too shared with five other people there is really no need to work too hard. If this becomes the pre-dominant lifestyle of choice for young people going forward, the implications extend well beyond toy stores. The desire to own tangible, material things coupled with that to form a family made the whole job driven economy possible. If both those needs are gone, people have very little to lose and a great deal of flexibility. There are obviously great positives in being free to take risk and afford change. But there are serious downsides. One gig can replace the other, roommates can be swapped, romantic interests can stay short and varied as nothing needs to happen next. 

The only limiting factor today is that the available jobs are mostly created by older generations and to that extent they have some control over this very nebulous millennial workforce and the nature of economic output created. In a few years, it will become their turn to define what work should be and how it should be performed. In this list of top twenty companies started by millennials there is not a single core engineering or medical research business for example. The entire focus of these enterprises is gathering and sharing content, goods or services. None address any real human need. The world would not miss even a single one of these companies if they ceased to exist today. But if electricity had not been invented, the car and airplane not been built in its time, we would have been a very different civilization and planet than we are today. The news of millennials in engineering and manufacturing is nowhere close to the headlines and that is reason for concern. 

It seems that we should mourn for a lot more than the demise of Toys R Us. 

Unrelated Rage

A childhood friend of J's wrote an essay in the local news paper about why he was walking out of school today. I have known of this kid for many years though we never met. Reading his essay made me cry. The pain felt raw and real in his words; he was able to inflict it upon the reader. While being in awe of this young person for being such a powerful writer, I was ashamed to be among the millions of adults who have failed our collective kids. He had not minced words in calling us out. 

How do I now deal with this toxic mix of grief, rage and shame that hits me every time I read something about this topic ? I don't discuss with other parents who for their part don't bring it up either. We find our safe space in such forced amnesia by implied consent. Today at school as tributes were read for the victims, our kids cried. Yet, we go about our days like nothing changed. We discuss plans for summer, their driver's license test, how they were grounded for staying out past curfew, the big soccer game coming up, the impending empty nest, how braces cost an arm and leg and their smile is still crooked. 

We cling to every shred of "normal" like so many talismans to keep our kids out of harm's way. We hope they will live to have families, careers and the American Dream. We try not to dwell upon the tragedy and find ways to move on. We pretend this is the best most positive way and there is no value in dwelling on past that cannot be changed. Mostly we feel powerless. Those parents and families had many dreams too. Tragedy is now an inedible stain in their lives they will never be able to wash away.

In Marie Kondo's book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, she talks about how people in times of extreme stress try to subconsciously fix what is wrong at the root by frantically cleaning and de-cluttering. I must have been doing just that later in the afternoon unable to process the difficult emotions I experienced reading that essay. I decided to vacuum the second floor to calm down. It was a bad idea because I happen to own one of these cruel jokes of a machine. It exists in my house only to taunt my spectacular lack of mechanical ability.

Once I take it apart, I cannot for the life of me put it back together. So if I need to remove the dust from the bag-less innards of this torture device after the second room, I am screwed. Who are these people that are giving this thing a 4 star rating ? Am I the world's greatest retard that can't put this thing back together but everyone else can ?  I am filled with self-doubt and rage that rise in huge alternating waves as I try in vain to finish the job that I started. Did they have even a single woman on the design team when they build this household appliance ? I am cussing like a sailor at the machine and J is doing her best to ignore me. She knows of my bad relationship with this vacuum cleaner over the years and that its best to stay away. In the past, her attempts to help me assemble it did not end well for either of us. It assumed symbolic importance for unresolved and unrelated disputes we may have had at the time.

I will resume this task another day when I have less need to transfer rage from one hopeless place to another. 

Second Chance

We will call him A. He turns thirteen in a few weeks and came into my life some five years ago. The first meeting is etched in memory. In my mind it is age he will forever be. A was a child then and young man taller than me already. Much has changed in both our lives this half decade I have known him. There was room in my heart for a second child but as I grew older and the dreams of a motherhood encore started to fade, that room turned cold and unwilling to receive love. Then I met A. Something about him made me want to rewind the clock. Try being a mother to another child and not repeat the mistakes I made and continue to make with J. 

The two kids have a lot in common but A is his own man too. He brings challenges I never experienced before and new rewards to make up for it. He forces me to be a better version of myself and I want to believe the improvements that follow help J out too. A makes me keenly aware of the value of time in a child's life. I was lucky to have met him when I did, at a time he was eager to talk about everything and only needed a willing listener. 

As his teen years draw near, the bar is much higher as I have learned from J. It is no longer enough to be an interested listener, he expects more and it is not always apparent what more is. There was the luxury of time to bring change you desired to see in the kid back then but not anymore. The years seem to fly by a lot faster beginning thirteen and influencing their inner worlds gets much harder. A is my chance to relive that phase of J's life maybe with more grace and wisdom this time around. He is also my chance to use the hard lessons of motherhood I have learned thus far and help another child.