Saturday, July 24, 2010

The happiest man

This is a story I had read long back in school, some 12 years back. I do not know why, but this story has stayed with me till today. Maybe its the simplicity of the story, the really insightful messages, small learnings..I still read it whenever am down and every time I do, I feel overwhelmed. Some of you might have already read about this. For those who haven't, hope you like it.

The HAPPIEST man

Jacob Kominiski never achieved fame and never accumulated wealth.

He was a simple tailor and pleased to be one. He walked the streets of our Brooklyn neighborhood with great dignity, but always with a glint of laughter in his eye .He was my father and most successful human being I ever knew.

As a child, I did not fully understand his worth. When I saw how hard he worked for so little material award I felt sorry for him and a little ashamed at his lack of ambition. I was wrong on both counts.

He worked for a Seventh Avenue dress manufacturer and one summer evening he brought home an enormous sketch pad, a handful of soft pencils, and some wool and silk and cotton swatches. He announced that the boss was giving him a chance to become a dress designer, something he had long hoped for.

Night after night, he worked until midnight or later. A slight man with thin fair hair and shoulders rounded by his trade, he stood by the kitchen table,bending over the sketch pad to make quick,swirling lines while mother stood near by,mending. She was a beautiful woman with long auburn hair piled high above a serene face. He thought no one in the world could match his wife. He once said of her, “Where she walks there is light.” Sometimes pop would draw an outstanding ornament so they could both laugh. Laughter was the part of everything he did. Every night at dinner, he reported the amusing things that happened in during the day. (We never heard of any defeats or frustrations.) The most ordinary events were hilarious when pop told us about them

When at last the sketches were finished, he took them off to work. Nothing more was said about them. Eventually I asked him, “Pop, what happened to the drawings?" "Oh," he said, “They weren't any good.” Seeing my dismay he said, "Danny, a man can't do everything in this world but he can do one job well. I found out I am not a good designer, but I am a good tailor."

And there, I found the key to the man, the key that let me understand better as I grew older. Jacob Kominiski never pretended to be something he was not. Free from vanity or unrealizable ambition he was able to enjoy each day as it came.

Pop enjoyed all men, but he reserved his friendship for a few-especially five cronies who had emigrated with him from Russia at the time of First World War. Once a month they gather in our kitchen for an evening of talk .All these men had achieved business success. Yet in many matters it was to Jacob Kominiski they turned for advice, knowing that he saw life clearly and his opinions could not be warped by envy. I once asked my mother, "Why do they come here instead of meeting in their own big houses?" She thought for a moment, and then said, "I think maybe they left the best part of themselves here. They need to come back to it every now and then."

When I was 13 my mother died .Through my own grief I was aware of the great loss this was to Pop. But he made only one reference to this almost insupportable sadness. He said, “To be happy every day is to be not happy at all." He was saying to his sons that happiness is not state achieve and keep, but something that must be won over and over, no matter what the defeats and losses.

In my early teens, I ran away from home for the simple reason that i was bursting with curiosity about the world outside Brooklyn. I talked a pal of mine into going with me. At night, we appeared at the local police station to announce we were hitchhiking to relatives and asked to be put in a cell until morning. It worked well until we reached a small town in Delaware. The chief of Police said, “You kids look like a couple of runaways. You say you are from Brooklyn? I shall just telephone and see if there is a 'wanted' on you." He found that there was indeed a missing person alarm for me. He soon had my father on the phone. After hearing I was alright, Pop seemed to relax. “You want me to send him home?” the chief asked. "Oh, no”, father said." He wants to find out something. He will come home when he is ready." I was on the road for two weeks, and when I finally walked down the familiar street towards our house, I began to get apprehensive. I was afraid i had hurt Pop by running away. How could I find the right words to explain to him why I went? As it turned out, it was Pop who found the right words. When i came through the front door he looked up from his newspaper, and a wonderfully warm and relieved smile went over his face. Then he gave me a wink and said," There's food in the ice box, Danny." The words he had always greeted me with when i came home from school or play. So nothing had changed between us. He understood me, and my searching and longings, so unlike his own or my brothers.

His patience with me during my late teens was infinite. Both my brothers had jobs and were hardworking, responsible citizens, but I was moody and restless and could not settle down. I wanted to express myself, but I did not know how. Pop supported me uncomplainingly; once a week i found a five-dollar note tucked beneath my pillow, to save me the embarrassment of openly receiving pocket money.

My shortcomings did not escape the notice of Pop's cronies. One evening I heard a voice say," Jacob, I speak to you as a friend must speak. Danny is becoming a loafer. You should not allow this to happen." Pop said," My son is searching for something he can devote his life to. I can't tell him what it is. He shall never be happy unless he finds it for himself. It may take him longer than others, but he shall find it. I do not worry about him."

Later that year I got a job as an entertainer , and suddenly I knew this was the career I had been searching for. The world of the theater was far removed from the world of Jacob Kominski, the tailor, yet i found myself returning to him time and again, for the same reason his cronies did.

When i was 20, I got what every actor dreams of a permanent job! The A.B.Marcus show, 'La Vie Paree', was an extravaganza that had been touring the world for a quarter of century, and i joined the cast. But I had a problem, I went up to Pop and put it to him. This was at the depth of depression, actors were out of work by the hundreds, yet I wanted to leave the show because I needed new experiences and challenges. Also, I was scared.

Pop heard me out, then said, " It's very to have a steady job. You shouldn't be ashamed of liking it. But there are some people who always have to test themselves, to stretch their wings and try new winds. If you think you can find more happiness and usefulness this way, then you should do it." This advice came from a man who had never left a secured job in his life , who had the European tradition of family conformity and responsibility, but who knew I was different. He understood what I needed to do and he helped me to do it.

For the next few years I worked in nightclubs, and then i got my big theatrical break, appearing in 'Lady In The Dark' with Gertrude Lawrence. After that I went to Hollywood, but even the glamor of movie capital did not awe Pop. For some of the time between his retirement and his death at the age of 80, Pop lived with me and my family there.

We had a big party one evening, and soon there was a crowd round him listening to his stories about Brooklyn and his Ukrainian Legends. I thought Pop might enjoy hearing some of the old folk songs we used to sing, the music and the memories were too much for him to resist, and he came over to join me. I faded away and he was in the middle of the room singing alone _ in a clear, true voice. He sang for 15 minutes before some of the World's highest-paid entertainers. When he finished there was a thunderous applause. This simple, kindly old man singing of our European roots had touched something deep in these sophisticated people. I remember what my mother had said about Pop's rich cronies: "I think maybe they left best part of themselves here. They need to come back to it every now and then."

I knew the applause that night was not just for a performance; it was for a man.

- Danny Kaye.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

For the love of Economics!

My niece hates Economics! In her 12th now, she was getting advice from me, without her even asking for it, about her future career choices. I suggested, with a big smile on my face, "why don't you major in Eco?" I expected her to thank me for this wonderful and inspired suggestion when I heard, "Cheeee!! Eco!! It's so boring! Try as I did, I could not convince her to change her mind. And hence, I am writing this blog to show how interesting can Eco be. I love Economics! Due respect to all famous economists, I have taken some liberty here! Dear niece, this is for you!

In the last few weeks, we have been constantly hearing about the high inflation in our country and the PIIGS reeling under recession. I am actually feeling the after-effects of both. A recessionary Hairline and an inflationary Waistline! How I wish it were the reverse! But what gets me worried more is the fact that my Mom is also worried about this. Let me explain. She sees me like this and there is that look on her face. I DREAD what's coming! "Beta, what are you doing..Look at you!! I think you should get married now..before...........She purposefully leaves it hanging, like a noose..."Before what mom?! Before my Hairbank goes bankrupt and my trouser buttons burst open??!!"

What is with mom and other middle aged ladies! These ladies are the perfect example of a Cartel! Just like a cartel, they collude and scheme to get young people like me married, hooked and booked! They are active all year round, but they come into their elements during family functions - weddings, birthday parties etc. Just like a cartel, they do not actually give the appearance that they are colluding. They move around discreetly in groups of 2 to 3 and creep up on you, stealthily, when you least expect it. "Hello, Mrs. Parikh! Your son has become so big!" Sighhh..The tag has been made. I want to run away. Mom joins the action. "Yes, he is now an MBA, working with a bank" The cartel moves in for the kill. "Oh! I have just the perfect girl for him. She too is an MBA!" Mom gets that familiar look in her eyes. "I know! I have been telling him since when that he is set now." I know it's time for me to beat a hasty retreat..

Mom feels I am set now. I ought to be, right? An MBA, a decent job?? But I feel that there's something missing. Even though on the surface it seems I am moving ahead, rising higher up the ladder, but deep down I feel that I am stagnating..a case of Stagflation! There just seem to be too many things to contend with. Too many variables. And unlike that most fundamental of Eco Fundas 'Cēterīs paribus', here all the variables are constantly moving, in different directions pulling you along with them. But I know I have to move on, aware that the "Invisible Hand" is there to guide me, just like the "Invisible Hand" of Adam Smith worked for the benefit of all.

I think I have written enough! I am sure I have displeased economists by using such important terms in such a frivolous manner. But more than that I am worried that if I write any more, the purpose of this article would have been defeated and my niece will definitely not take up Economics. You see, the more I write, the more bored she will be to read even a single additional line. Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility at work!