Merry Xmas and all the best for Y2K10

For the last decade, I have sent an annual newsletter. However, with the rise of Face Book, Link din, Digg, Delicious and other social networking sites, this newsletter is irrelevant. However, there are countless who have not signed on. Please do not take this letter seriously. It is my view with a dash of sarcasm, a sprinkle of comedy, a wallow in sybaritic poetic license. No animals were hurt in writing this. It is not leaving a carbon footprint.

It is freezing outside. We have experienced one of the worst winters on record. The game of the global warming crowd is always amazing. Emails were intercepted among the cabal of the IPCC (International Panel on Climate Change). They knew their data was faulty and distorted. Some of the strongest advocates of global warming were promoters of global cooling in the 70’s. Does anybody remember peak oil theory and acid rain?

It feels like yesterday I bought Jean from the hospital. She will be six in March next year. She loves school and art. She has enrolled in ballet lessons. This weekend we are off to see The Nutcracker at the National Ballet. Peter Ottman who is the senior Ballet Master and a good friend will be giving us a backstage tour. Merci Beaucoup Peter.

I am going into my 9th year of marriage with Debbie. She continues to love me unconditionally and put up with my mordant sense of humour. She has made me a better person and a great listener. She loves staying at home taking care of jean and taking care of four kids.

On a daily basis, an invitation comes my way for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Someone always wants to pitch a deal to me. At the TIFF, someone gave me two tickets to the gala of The Slum Dog Millionaire. I regret not going. Because it was in Toronto that the momentum built up leading to the Oscars. Does the west continue to get its jollies by viewing India through the filth covered lens of poverty porn. There were countless discussions about this movie. I look at it as art. It was written by an Indian, shot in India and had Indian actors.

This decade has experienced some watershed moments. 9/11, the credit bubble but the coronation of Obama will go down in history. Here is a master orator, whose mellifluous speech, opened the heavens and parted the water. Hosannas rang down from high. He has a big burden on his shoulders and I have hope. On the other spectrum, looking at Michael Jackson and Tiger woods sends me to the liquor cabinet for a Socratic like double hemlock.

My alma mater celebrated its 150th year. Let us put that into perspective. The Cuban revolution and Barbie are fifty years old. The Jumbo 747 is 40, the Iranian revolution is 30 and it has been 20 years since Berlin and Tiananmen. We were making history as the first batch of grade 12 students. I feel so proud to be among the congeries of Felix Rosetti, Ruskin Bond, Ratan Tata, Kumar Gaurav, The King of Bhutan, Pakistan’s ambassador to London, the head of RAW, Generals, Admirals, Chief Ministers. The present cabinet has two Cottonians. I was crying when I saw the different pictures. Even a stamp was issued for this occasion. I want to thank every Cottonian who has enriched my life.

Everyone is amazed at the growth of social networking. Man was made for relationships. We thrive on it. As we get older, we crave to get back to our past and understand it better. I am on Linked in and Face book. One is for business and one is more social and personal. Thanks to everyone who is a connection.

I was barely ten years old when I went to Dubai. Has it changed? As time went it became a city built on superlatives, its pedigree built on the biggest this and the most expensive that. No ambition was too gluttonous for the oasis. Icarus was warned by his father not to fly close to the sun. Pride, arrogance, hubris always leads to ruin.

Every year, a friend always makes a difference in my life. Mayette Magpile has been a friend for 20 years. She is a sister who I never had. We have fought like cats and dogs at times. We are at different spectrum in our reasoning sometimes. But I have never doubted her unconditional love for me. A long time back when I was single, her husband came to me and said to get married. His reasoning was he was sick and tired of hearing my name daily as Mayette prayed for me. As I get older I realize we need to have a lot more grace towards each other. We need to forgive and look at what we have in common.

I will be completing 10 years with Research Capital. We merged with J.F. Mackie this year. The last two years have been challenging. I want to thank clients who have given me their business. Without you, I would not be around. I have a website going. I am writing for www.oyetimes.com. I will not be continuing with my blog.

I have left the most important part for the last. Life is Short. We are but a mist here. I lost four people this year. When you lose someone, a part of you goes away. It hurts. Only time heals everything.

The St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican City took 120 years from 1505 to 1626 to build. Over this time, Magellan’s fleet has sailed around the world, Henry VIII has six wives and disposed four, Shakespeare has made the world his stage and an extraordinary feat of architecture had emerged. This should remind us of the progress of man. Things move forward relentlessly. The world is better and more exciting and we are never to forget this fact.

Take care and please kiss your spouses, hug your kids and make a difference.

Gerald Godinho

Slay The Dragon and Walk Away Free

"You'll seldom experience regret for anything that you've done. It is what you haven't done that will torment you. The message, therefore, is clear. Do it! Develop an appreciation for the present moment. Seize every second of your life and savor it. Value your present moments. Using them up in any self-defeating ways means you've lost them forever."
Wayne Dyer


"There is often in people to whom 'the worst' has happened an almost transcendent freedom, for they have faced 'the worst' and survived it."
~Carol Pearson


We all have skeletons in the closet. Those things we hide from everyone. We do not want anyone to know about it. It is in the attic. The best locks protect it.

Disappointments have a major effect on us. That super spiritual husband who we married. How he walked out on you. That model. She was so lithe and lissome. She smiled at all your jokes. How she left you for another man. He came with the backing of the Sanhedrin. He was awesome. Now he is dull and boring. He played a charade to get you. The business deal fell through. Married but cannot have kids. The list goes on.

Have you ever had a demon? A chimera so huge that even an army could not slay.

It was the summer of 86. I had just finished my first year of university. The internship had gone well in Geneva. I had made some good tips. I set off for London England.

One day at the underground, someone tapped my back. It was S. Sidha. He was a couple years my junior at School. He told me about Ajoy Hakim’s Suicide.

I met Ajoy in grade 11. Why did we become such good friends? May be we were outsiders. He was the teacher’s son. It could be we were both “Christians”. Perhaps we loved books, art, and the theatre. Maybe I looked at him through a clear lense.

I remember us going up the mountain. We would light up a Dunhill. We talked about Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. We were idealists. We would be graduating soon. We were on the cusp of greatness. Freedom at last.

After doing our grade 12 exams, we backpacked India for a month. Nothing prepares you for the Taj Mahal. You study about it. It is deep in your psyche. You transcend into another world. I was only 17 then.

We went to Lucknow. His aunt was the principal of a boarding school. Did I mention a girl’s boarding school? We are supposed to think with the right head. It was my first exposure to the real Mughlai cuisine.

After our short sojourn, it was time to say goodbye. We knew it would be a while before we would see each other. Both of us knew that we would be fighting the establishment that believes in becoming doctors, lawyers and engineers. Little did I know, that it would be the last time I would see Ajoy.

Early in life, we follow the map mapped out by ego, a path of ambition, competition, striving and achievement. At mid-life, we question the direction we are heading. We yearn to find our true calling. And you have to be willing to meet the demon.

The very thought of going back to visit school brought shudder up my spine. Did I really want to deal with seeing all the places? Was it worth the trip?

We were the first batch of grade 12. However, we were orphans. No trace of us existed.

Did I really want to meet some teachers that I had harbored bitterness?

I kept thinking about boxing. I practiced so hard for a year. The coach told me to lose a match to a fellow student. That decision has haunted me.

I had become a hippo crate. I was a cheerleader for something that I did not even want to return. I had blocked certain aspects of the experience.

Talking to Raju Singh changed it all. Here was a Cottonian who was real and vulnerable. He was honest to the bone. He had gone through a lot challenges in life. I finally realized that our generation was maturing. It was just not about conquest.

My talk and email exchange with Arun Sawhney got the ball rolling. He told me he never went back to school for ten years. He was escaping. Nevertheless, in life you have to face your demons. You have to be that David and cut the head of Goliath. Look at the positive and focus on that.

Asheesh Santram’s email was the dealmaker. He talked about renewing our bonds.

I called him. We were talking after 27 years. He was Ajoy’s cousin. He gave me the breakdown of what had happened. I felt like he was the physiotherapist. One by one, he was breaking down the tendons and letting the blood flow. The blood brings rich nutrients which results in healing. I am not sure why I waited that long to make the call. He provided me with Anup Hakim’s cell number.

Anup was Ajoy’s older brother. He was teaching at school. I called him. This was the catharsis. Anup did not recognize me the first instant. However, he got it. He called me the boy who was always with Ajoy. We talked about how he had directed both the plays for Lefroy House. How our class did not respect Mrs. Andrews. She walked into our class thinking that we would greet her only for us to ignore her. She walked out on us.

We laughed about many issues. I finally asked him about his parents. He explained to me the whole story. I told him about Mr. Roshan Lal. Anup had a positive spin on the issue. He was not sure whether to take his parents accident a positive or negative. Would he have abandoned them when they became old and fragile?

I finally asked him about Ajoy. I told him this issue had bogged me for a quarter of a century. I was trying to track him down all along. It was refreshing to talk to Anup. He was the surgeon who had taken the thorn from my flesh. I gave him the phone number of another friend. They had a great chat and thanked me for connecting them.

I finally let it go. I was free from the bondage of guilt. I had felt like Hercules carrying this weight. It felt light.

In life, we go through experiences to keep us humble. Hubris is a cousin of success.

The oven bakes you to add flavor. To become a butterfly the larvae has to break through the cocoon. We have to go through storms. It helps us appreciate things better.

I was looking at BCS through myopic eyes. One cannot let one incident mar your view. I cannot paint the whole canvas with one stroke. I was looking at the glass half empty.

I forgot to mention that I met one of my closest friends Ash Virk. Anup Bhalaik was one of the nicest and super people I have ever come across.

Life is an art as much as a science. It is a marathon not a sprint. Sometimes in our youth, the cabal judges us by that sprint.

BCS was an experience that embedded our names and lives into history. We are concatenated. I look forward to the renewing of bonds and reawaken the good that came from school.

I met the Messiah of the Internet

I rarely take a lunch break. I prefer to eat at my desk. The phone rings constantly. Information changes rapidly. It can affect decision we make.

I do make exceptions. If the public company is amazing or the speaker is influential.

This lunch meeting was beyond exception. I had a lunch appointment with the new Messiah of the internet.

I have known Jeremy for two decades. Ever since he was in university, he wanted to be a minister. I kept telling him to pursue his dream. He was hesitant. Somehow, he wanted it from heaven. A voice so powerful it would shake him. He wanted a halo around his head with a powerful beam of light from the stars.

I have told him countless times to get a degree in theology. No. His belief is that divinity school is full of liberals. They do not believe in the Bible. He would leave school with his faith weakened he would reason. He wanted to do it on his own. The internet was the future of evangelism.

What brought us to this luncheon was the continuous barrage of emails I was getting from Jeremy. He would bombard me with spiritual information on Face book.

We sat at the restaurant. It was nearly 5 years since we had seen each other. I was excited.

After the formal pleasantries, we moved on to discuss a variety of issues.

We talked about where we were at in life. He was 40 and still single. I asked him what he was looking for in a woman. He had about 15 points that she must have. He wanted to go through the Spanish inquisition with them. I shared with him that what we look for at 20 is different when we are 30. At 40, it is a completely new ball game.

We talked about careers. He still did not have a job. He wanted to be a minister and lead the single ministry. I told him could I be honest with you. He agreed. I said no 40 year old could relate to him. He has never had a job, a girlfriend or a career. He lives in his parent’s condominium. What could he offer single people? Go get a real job. Get a life. Experience the warm embrace of a woman. Get used to some set backs. He was not getting it.

He would have none of it. He had arrived. He was the creator’s gift to women. After all, he was a super spiritual person. He would pray about it. The wife would arrive in the mailbox. The perfect job would just happen.

The topic came to his church. He was critical towards other churches. He found fault in their doctrine. His had the right one. His had the correct solutions. He gave me a name of whom he was restoring. I called that person. He told Jeremy to buzz off.

Jeremy insisted that because of his qualities he had landed an interview for a job in the ministry. After lunch, I brought him over to my office. I took him to the trading room. The average age of people working was 35. These people were willing to listen. What could he offer them?

I wanted to share with him that he was not interested in looking for a wife. From his conversation a mistress, mom, house cleaner perhaps. I wanted to tell him to find someone who loves him unconditionally. That he needed to look in the mirror and see what he can bring to the table. I wanted to share stories. Why waste my time. We parted ways, as I had to get back to work. He promised me he would send me an email regarding the interview.

A couple of months passed and I had not heard from him. I ran into a common friend. After a while, the topic came back to Jeremy. He had gone for the interview. However, they told him exactly what I had shared with him. They wanted him to get some real life experiences. Go get a real job. Get a wife and then come back and apply. The single adults needed someone who they could respect. He was not the right candidate for the job.

It has been nearly two years since that event. Jeremy is still single. He still does not have a job. I got an email from him recently. I did not reply. I am careful about choosing my battles.

I now understand Pharisees a lot better. They are legalistic, judgmental and old school. They do not want to change. They walk around with tassels of scripture around them. They do not want to listen to anyone they consider beneath them. It is so easy to become a hypocrite. Sometimes instead of wanting to become a Messiah we should listen to what he had to say. They are like whitewashed tombs, which looks beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones.

He was 5 years my junior at BCS

I had 300 emails in my inbox on Monday. Fifty were concerning a retired schoolteacher. He was in his mid 80’s. His health was frail. His family abandoned him. His plight had made headline news in the local newspapers. The old boy’s network started raising funds for him. The email flurry continued for a few days. By Friday, the emails had died down to a few. I went through my junk email. One email was from Arun Sawney. It was cool, calm concise and collected. It stated the facts. It was solution oriented. It looked at the big picture regarding issues facing our alma mater. I was impressed. At the end of the email was a cell number. I wanted to talk to the writer.

I introduced myself. He had heard about me. I realized he was five years my junior. At boarding school, you probably talked to someone two years your junior. However, a quarter century later it did not matter. We were two old Cottonians. Here was a mature individual. He was a successful businessperson. He had a keen interest in school. He had a positive outlook.

We talked about us being the first grade 12 batch to graduate from school. How we were just 10 in our class. I shared with him that three were dead. One of them was my best friend. He remembered Ajoy Hakim very well.

Ajoy Hakim had committed suicide. His home was close to the classroom. Arun remembered the gunshot. He told me the whole story. For the first time in my life, I was sharing how that incident affected me. It was one reason I never went back to school. The memories are still there. The wound is still raw. Arun shared about how great Ajoy was. He was friendly. He cared.

Every Old Cottonian looks forward to reading his name on the board. I shared my disappointment with Arun. They never wrote our names on the school board. It could be that Mr. Hakim the senior master found it painful. It could be so many reasons. I asked Arun to take up our case. He did not flinch. He said every Old Cottonian was entitled to that. It was our birthright.

We became friends on Linked in and Face book. We shared emails and chatted on line.

At school I am sure, I ignored Arun. He was just another junior. How many did I ignore? Did I make a difference in their lives?

Arun healed me. Here was a person on the other side. He was willing to listen to me. He was intent on resolving our cause.

He made me want to visit school again. It felt good.

As we go about our lives, sometimes we ignore those that cannot help us. We fail to recognize those that cannot make a difference in our lives. Arun made me think again. Thanks for making my day.

Thanksgiving

"The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these, who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving."
~H. U. Westermayer

As we celebrate thanksgiving this weekend, I am grateful:

• Learning to Dance in the Rain
• To be alive and in good health
• To have a beautiful wife who loves me unconditionally and believes in me
• For a beautiful daughter who thinks I am the worlds best dad
• Both my parents are alive
• Canada has welcomed me with open arms and is a land of opportunities
• For a great job that I love and a great company to work for
• C4, a wonderful, safe place to worship
• Wonderful neighbors
• Friends all over the world
• HIS, BCS, Les Roches
• The opportunity to travel as it has expanded my horizons
• Awesome small group
• Good nights sleep
• The wonderful garden and its creator
• Bees for honey, Maple tree for syrup, Swiss chocolates
• Ice wine from Niagara
  
  I have learned to focus on what I have. The best things in life are free.

Filipinos are Awesome

About 32 years ago, I accompanied my mom to a luncheon in Dubai. Her Filipino colleagues were hosting it. It was a feast for behemoths. Every dish was amazing, laid out in gargantuan style. This was my first exposure to Filipino hospitality. Most of them were at the bottom on the corporate totem pole. They did not make much money. However, they had big hearts.

At Les Roches, one of my closest female friends was a Filipino. Didi was down to earth. She was humble and always had a smile. She runs a very successful restaurant in the Philippines. I spoke to her recently. The voice was still the same. She was happy go lucky.

The new accounts department at work is efficient. The three Filipinos are amazing and helpful. A couple of times, I go back and have a good laugh with them.

Debbie and I share a good and healthy teasing relationship even before we were dating. I always tease her about her friends. She never has anything negative to say about anybody. She talks highly of the Japay family. She baby-sat some of the kids.

A couple of years back, the whole Japay family had moved to Newmarket. We stayed in touch. We even went over for meals.

This summer I heard that Leah Japay Cidro and Frank Cidro had become elders at their local church. I got on the phone and congratulated Frank. He invited me over for dinner.

On a beautiful day, we headed over to Newmarket. I was looking forward to seeing them. I knew there was a feast ahead of us. Food and Friends make a great combination.

I met Fanny the 80-year-old Matriarch. She has the most amazing skin. Noela and her dark prince were there. She was glowing. I was not sure if she was going to the gym more often. Suzette the studious architect gave me a warm hug. Leah and her daughter looked like sisters.

It was relaxing sitting down with Frank. He is humble, down to earth and real. You want a lesson on poverty ask him. Do not go to some fat cat, who is plastic and fluttery, made one trip in their life to Cuba, and shows you their pictures. You want a lesson on hardship ask him. Do not ask some one who sleeps on a three thousand dollar mattress and complains about his job.

Frank is a shepherd to his flock. He knows what it is to be a sheep. He was not judgmental. He listened. He had worn some tough shoes in his life. I shared with him my own experiences. I felt I belonged here.


On our drive, back I shared with Debbie about how grateful I was for her friends. They were a close and tight family. Love was oozing from every brick in that house. I am sure they slept well. They did not hurt anyone but just accepted people.

I had to remind myself that they were real Christians. They never once said, I am praying for you. They fed you. They never gave you the idea that they were too busy for you but rather met you face to face.

It does say humble yourself and he will lift you up. Soar high. It is lonely at the top. Never get the ivory tower mentality. Never forget your roots. Anytime you want to break bread I am there.

Skill Sets Required

The headlines roared “10 % of workforce cut”. As I continued to read the article, the spokesperson for the company said, “The skill sets of those impacted do not line up with the long term trajectory of the business”. In other words, they were dead wood. They had attitudes of entitlement. They had never upgraded their skills. Punch in and punch out. They joined at 17 and wanted a golden watch at 55.

An expert commented on the situation. His take was change or die.

It got me thinking. We focus so much in our lives to develop skills to get a job. What about the skills sets to be a husband and father? Does a school even exist to teach us? Our very social fabric depends on this. Wives eventually lay us off. Kids down size us.

Men are natural boneheads. We are fixers, insensitive, visual, and selfish.

When I first got married, I thought I had arrived in heaven. All my problems are resolved. Marriage is a very expensive place to find out who you are. The spouse is like a mirror. The weaknesses magnify. It is a relationship where you learn by trial and error. You learn as you move along.

Some have a false idea that if they marry a practicing Christian, it will be different. All stats point in the other direction. Study after study show that it is no different.

Fatherhood has its joys. It also has its challenges. In a marriage, you change from focusing on you to us. The equation changes with children. The shift in dynamic brings its own challenges. It is pure joy.

When I come home tired, I just want to switch the TV, eat and just chill. Jean wants me to play. She wants me to listen to how her day went. She wants me to comment on her paintings. Debbie just laughs all along. Most times, it is fun. Sometimes it is all about self-denial.

Change or die rang in my ears. Modern men have to develop a whole set of soft skills. Listening, patience, communicating, relating, flexible, cooking, helping with chores, diaper changing. For those with strong patriarchal backgrounds giving her importance and equality is important

End of the day, both the roles have made me a better human being. It has made me balanced. It has changed my view on life. Jean in all her innocence says I have to become a better listener. She is only 5 years old. I have a long way to go. Children just speak the truth.