The Laws of Perversity (Never say Never)

Its my hypothesis, that there is a trap set at every step during our lives. Its been pre programmed. You just need to find it. And its not that difficult. Just the right mind set and you are in there.

As a kid, I remember my father thinking of buying a Volkswagen Beetle, as a family car. Nothing unusual about that. One in every four cars on the road was a Beetle in those days. This is before the Government of Pakistan decided in its infinite wisdom, that they should tax higher literage cars more than others. So before the Japanese cars took over in Pakistan (and really the world), you could see the Beetles every where. We all went and checked out the Beetle at the showroom and my mother categorically stated that it was a horrible, ugly looking thing, and she would not sit in it. So, alas, no Beetle!

Cut forward 14 years and I was back in Pakistan, studies completed, I had recently joined Unilever, on whose princely salary, all I could afford was an old second hand car, Alhamdulillah. Guess what I ended up buying ? A dilapidated 14 year old Beetle! ( this car had a mind of its own. It would forever stop on Clifton Road at the most inopportune times and caused me constant heartburn). And of course my mother sat often in the same ugly car, for the next 3 years. A soft trap, but nevertheless, one which repeats itself all the time.  

Never say Never!

Just go ahead and state your intentions of not doing something in a categorical fashion, and more than likely, the exact thing you denied, you will end up doing. Now, somewhere there is a Murphy’s Law, which states that anything which could possibly go wrong, well it will go wrong. Similarly, I think there should be a Perversity Law. If you say something will “Never” happen, well sadly it will happen.

In my own personal experience, it has occurred exactly like that. I stated I would not study abroad; I did. Never do Chartered Accountancy; I did. Would not join a commercial organisation; I did. Did not want to be heading an operation; I did. Once I left the commercial world, would never come back; I did. Would never smoke; I did. Will always exercise and have no weight problems; well in the last ten years done little exercise and had the mother of fights to keep the weight in check.

I wonder where this stops and how many others suffer from similar results. Friends I have enquired from, all have a similar story to tell. So is this a worldwide phenomenon? Then the thought occurs, if it is so common, why don’t we humans, stop stating things in a categorical fashion? Or better still, only say “Never” to things you actually want to happen, thus engineering a perverse reaction, all to your benefit. That should lead to the perverse happening., which is what you wanted in the first place… right? If you see what I mean.

So then, my fresh, new Laws of Perversity.

A) if you are sure in your mind you will “Never” do something and you state it out loud for general consumption, you will end up doing it.

B) if you are sure in your mind something will “Never” happen and you state it out loud for general consumption, it will happen.

C) if you are blessed with a high IQ and a devious mind, and believe (A) or (B) are true, and then you state the opposite deliberately, thinking its going to assist you to achieve the same, you are wrong! It will catch you out and it will not happen. It simply reads your intention.

D) Law A and B are therefore the only true laws, based on the confidence of your statement.

Therefore, my conclusion, after a lifetime of experience … Never say Never!

*the picture has been taken from Wylio.com a free picture site.

Chai please, it's not Coffee

It all started with the Nestle advertisement. The obvious commercial interest was to drive conversion from tea to coffee. That too an instant coffee mix. To me it looked more like a quick brazen attempt to drive convenience. Tea requires ritual and hard work to get the right cuppa. Instead go for an instant coffee mix, which will give you a quick strong fix. Notice no comparison of taste or tradition. This is the modern quintessential person, who has no time nor any interest in the softness of palette. He or she is in a hurry to fix it with a strong hit. 

What caught my attention though was an argument going on between some of my social media friends. There are two clear sides to the argument. One side is annoyed at this sacrilege of chai tradition - it's chai and not tea.  The other side is like   "What's the issue? Both are 'Gora' historically and so anyone or the other would do".

I had written a blog on Tea some five years back, on Borderline Green. It was about the relationship I personally have had with tea all my life, from drinking to being involved with tea and tea whitening companies. The blog also related the historical aspects of tea, its usage and production. But this is different. It's trying to judge between the qualitative aspects of two arguments. 

The argument of it being chai, tradition and significantly Pakistani, is emotionally an appealing one. It drives my sense of belonging and culture. It makes me someone. So personal bias immediately tilts towards it. Also, it so happens that I have the inside track, on the history of our tea tradition. Remember, I actually worked in Unilever and Lipton (and later Brooke Bond) who owned the tea market for half a century in Pakistan. 

During my years with Unilever, I had personal contact with the Chairman Habib-ur-Rahman (late). Habib sahib was very different. He would reach down 15 job classes to a junior employee and inspire him. So I can remember a session, when he described how both tea companies in the late 1940s and 1950s actually used ground activation to spread tea. A whole set of donkey carts would go off into the rural areas. They would carry tea leaves and a movie projector with generator power. Village to village they would assemble people and show them movies. As part of this entertainment they would sample tea. The tea would boil endlessly and become strong, thick, sweet and end up being described as karak. Apparently this activation went on for a few years and out of it was born our tradition in Pakistan of karak chai. Karak was the very characteristic which Tarang (Engro Foods) tried to replicate so successfully a decade ago.

The other 'import of Gora culture' argument, is perhaps not quite true. Tea (not chai) came via the Opium Wars, the preferred weapon the British used to beat China on its head. Tea plants were smuggled out of China to India to start tea plantations. As it so happened, it was indigenous Indian tea plants which eventually worked and this skulduggery came to nothing. But, neither tea nor coffee are products of temperate climates anyway. They do not grow in Western countries, but are imported from Africa, South America and Asia. They were drunk a millennium before any Portuguese sailor ever saw them. It was an acquired taste for Europe and later North America. So I am not sure how it can be claimed as Gora culture.

For me the argument spins on the usage of milk in chai. It is so, so different from anywhere else in the world. In India its masala chai. In Britain it is a weak milky tea, and in US and others, it's no milk. In Pakistan its Habib sahibs 'karak chai'. For us the thickened, sometimes sweetened concoction is our creation and over 70 years has become our tradition.  So to all wannabes out there. Chai please, its not Coffee!

Related link. /https://sarfarazar.wordpress.com/2012/07/14/tea-best -drink-of-the-day/

Karim Bhai

— 06 April 2012

Sometime in October 1983, I happened to be driving past the Hanging Gardens Apartments on the way to a friend’s place to play cards. That area of Karachi was still being developed and the famous Boating Basin was yet to be commissioned.

1983 was a year when we old class fellows had returned from our studies abroad. Karachi was home and had been our shelter for the first 18 years of our lives. It was a joyous homecoming. Life was still young and hopeful. Early career and a slog at work, was compensated by a lot of eating out and then playing cards all night. Come early morning we would go home, have a short nap, shower and be off to office. The invincibles! As friends we were doing a lot of catching up for the 6 years we had been abroad. It was a carefree time and life looked rosy.

So on this particular day, driving to my friend Adil’s house, I saw a rather bare looking pan store in the newly constructed Hashoo Terrace. This was manna to me, as at the time that whole area was bereft of shops. Turned out that I was the first customer – it was a Saturday morning. A couple of paan and cigarettes were supplemented by a chat with the new proprietor. Karim and later additionally ‘bhai’, as it turned out was a smiling individual, who loved to be happy and talk. Cricket was his forte, but he would also listen to us about girls, work and travel experiences.

Karim Bhai became a regular supplier for all of us and we would also indulge in deep conversations with him. I was at that time working for Unilever on a princely sum of Rs 6500 a month – don’t laugh, it was a top salary in those days when the Rupee went far.  At the end of the first month of operations, I asked Karim Bhai how much profit he had made. His reply, Rs 7500, left me flabbergasted and he went into peals of laughter. Later I said to a couple of friends that I might as well have stayed back and started a paan shop, rather than go to the UK for CA.

The years moved on and we did not remain young and carefree – yes marriage and promotions, real spoilers of freedom. Some of us left smoking and we stopped playing cards regularly.  But my attachment to Karim Bhai still remained. I would stop for a paan and now started developing the relationship by experimenting with the types of paan. He was still jolly, though now I had outpaced his earnings, but we raved and ranted about Pakistan cricket together.

Unfortunately work took me abroad and in the 90′s, few and far between, I would come to Karachi and a visit to Karim Bhai was obligatory. His hair was turning grey and weight had gone up. Apparently constant standing to deliver paan to customers had taken a toll, and he suffered from sciatica. On a couple of visits he would not be there, because of the pain. I wish I had asked for his address and gone to see him wherever he lived. Finally, in 2005 I returned to Karachi permanently.
One evening I took a drive to the paan shop and he was not there. I asked after Karim Bhai and some new assistant said ‘but he died’. The assistant showed me the sign on the shop, which had now changed to some other name, as the ownership had passed on.

How does one evaluate such a loss? For me a part of my life had gone. The pain was all the more, because of the regret of neglect which swept over me. I had allowed trivial matters to control my life and overlooked an essential. No amount of regret or sorrow will change that feeling of inadequacy.

Today, when I look back and analyse my life, it’s full of so-called successes. Strangely though, compare the memories about friends, family and small things versus the memory of lives successes, there is just no comparison. I cannot picture my CA results, or being made CEO, or driving a posh company maintained car, or receiving various awards along the way. But I do remember friends and family vividly. I do remember a paan wala’s laughter as he told me he had trumped me on my salary.

That is the very essence of life, but we learn it back-ended, having traversed through it.  We all must look after our friends and family, because they will not be with us always and then we don’t want to face the regret of lack of fulfillment.

You all will have your Karim Bhais. Nurture them while you can …