Robot vs Empathy Dragon - Which type of an aid worker am I?

Which type of an aid worker am I? I was in a visioning meeting, for a new and growing NGO, and one of the presenters said that there are two types of aid workers- the emotionally invested and the professional. The professionals are the MSW's (Masters in Social Work degree holders) and the PhD's. The emotionally invested are the ones who have been victims of the issue that they are working against or at times people who are just incredibly passionate about the issue (empathy dragons).

So which one am I? I would like to answer that question a little later. At first I would like to look at the advantages and disadvantages of being one or the other. The professional has many advantages, because being dispassionate has its perks. In the hindi movie 'Munna Bhai MBBS' Boman Irani plays a professor who tells his students something like- "it is better not to have an emotionally connect with the patient. I have performed thousands of surgeries and never have my hands shivered. But if I were to operate on my daughter, will my hands be steady?"

In other words, he is making a plea- do not get close to your patient. This is especially required in an aid worker's world because it can be increasingly frustrating when the people we work for tend to continue down their downward spiral, regardless of the aid workers so called 'implementation'. Children go missing in a community where the aid worker has diligently set up a 'Child Protection Unit.' After all the awareness programs and nutritional supplements distributions- children continue to be malnourished. And in my case...

Being dispassionate also mean that the aid worker will have a work life balance. In a country like India, where the population is very high- the 'beneficiaries' or the 'clients' just keep coming. The queue is always long. It is better to shut shop after 6pm and leave even if some things remain unresolved. This view is like a double edged sword- one end the aid worker will get blamed for becoming numb and callous, yet at the other end is physical and psychological burn out. You rev an engine too much without giving it rest and without oiling - the engine will break. What use is a broken engine?

At this juncture I would like to talk about Sharmila (name changed). Sharmila is living with HIV and has been an advocate for women and children who are living with HIV, for many years now. She is incredibly dedicated and hard working. Even though she needs medical attention herself, she has never let that be an excuse. Her drive propels her to give solidarity to people living with HIV regardless of the distances and time involved. But I have seen her visible drained at times and frustrated more than once. To the casual observer she may seem like a loose cannon who erupts in anger and lets off steam by ranting about obscure and irrelevant things. She is always questioning the dedication of the professional social worker.

Can there be a middle ground? A bit of emotional investment and passion is good. Too much of it and you lose moral high ground in many arguments and people will think you are not professional enough to make sane and unbiased decisions. Too little of it- and I have seen people like that, people who work for a promotion and a raise- too little of it, and you become a robot who lacks empathy. The humanity in you is lost to the hustle of a material life. Just another beneficiary, just another OVC (orphan and vulnerable child)...

So which type am I? That is an article for another day.

The end of the bullet chronicles

I once joked to my wife, that I love her the most in this world... second only to my Bullet (classic 500 motor bike). Today I am selling that bike and I am breathing a bit hard.

When I told the buyer- I would sell it to him and I left for home, the speedometer went haywire and rotated in fast clockwise circular motions- almost as though I was on a time machine rewinding time.

In a day and age when materialism has become a philosophical topic accessible to the masses, in a passé conversational way, the phrase 'do not get attached to material things' rings about like a siren, almost in a mad, pointless counter noise to the bombardment of commercials in mediums all around us- our smartphones, our tv's, our newspapers, our webpages, ringing again and again with images and sounds of thing we may need and should want.

The nausea that is generated, by purchasing these objects, gives me a headache and angst that can be described shabbily like this- I bought the damn thing, the novelty wore out, now I want something better.

Yet somehow- my Bullet was the one expensive piece of material that vapourised all the angst- made me forget, that I am a slowly wasting biological mass.

I had bought this bullet even though many people, some whose opinion I really valued, suggested that I do not pay all that money for a bullet 500cc.

"The 350cc is a lot cheaper and will have a better resale value."

"The bullet 50 years ago had the same vibrations. They have not made any major advancements on the new bike. So buy an old bullet."

Well, I went ahead and bought the 500cc anyway, a good 30k more than the 350cc at that time.

The first memory of sheer ecstasy that I remember very clearly was when I had to visit a friend in Kelambakkam. The bike was not very old, so I had to ride at 50km/hour or less and I remember that in open roads- it felt like a train.

I felt like I was on a cloud that somehow developed a drum for a body, that pounded out velocity in a consistent manner- relentless, powerful.

I have had virtually no complaints in the past five years. The one series of annoyances I had was with a battery that leaked and melted its terminals, once a week for three weeks. In search of a remedy (for battery retained its power and so the mechanics recommended that I do not change it) I changed all the wires ... till finally everyone including me realised that it was the damn battery.

I have made many solo trips to Bangalore and back. A half a dozen trips to Mahabs and Pondy with my wife- who was my girlfriend back in the day, so you can see why that would have been extra great. Where ever I went the bike stood out. It looked majestic and it made me look like a king.

Then why am I selling it?

I have been joking to my wife that my life has a new motto now- dream small. This may sound depressing at first but the name is more about 'utility' and 'practicality.' This shit about aim for the stars and at least land on the moon, just creates unrealistic expectations and pain. Aim for the moon and land on the moon- dream small!

So this new motor scooter I plan to buy is a part of this initiative. When my grandma wants bread and eggs, I will not have to worry about where it will go, on a scooter. The footrest, the area below the seat- so many places where the damn egg can go without breaking.

I hated riding the clutch for four kilometres, in a stop and go, bumber to bumper traffic, on a 500cc bullet that is meant for an open highway.

The buyer I was selling to, brought his wife to show her the bike he was going to purchase. I told her she will love the long rides with her husband and recount our (Shru and I) experience of driving to Coorg from Chennai.

"She took the Shatabdi (a train) to Mysore and I rode till Mysore on my bike... Cause her back will hurt if she rode on the pillion all the way... Then we both rode together to Coorg..."

As I tell her, my voice breaks and I felt a bit of breathlessness. It is really happening- I am selling my bike.