An Image

You know how some images stick in your mind for years, even though they may not mean anything very much; may not even be beautiful? I have a ruined hut in my mind which is like that. I had seen it in Chakwal, Pakistan, for a few minutes, in between some other things. I have written about my visit to Chakwal already.

My sister visited me in November, bringing with her a box of slides of Pakistan which I had left with her. Most of them have a nasty purplish overlay, which I've been trying to clear away through the magic of Photoshop. I was scanning the slides from Chakwal, and found one of the hut. Fittingly, perhaps, it was ruined; I couldn't bring it to life. And yet the photograph succeeds for me, because it suggests something coloured by the imagination:


I love the little tree, which someone carefully planted beside the door -- I had forgotten it. This is what I wrote:

It was the most rudimentary structure, enclosed within a low stone wall. The pale stones, mud mortar crumbling away, the half-fallen thatch of the roof through which blue sky was visible, the rotting door, the broken wooden bedstead -- all seemed touching. I wondered about the lives it had contained, and why they had left it. The air was very quiet, sunny, clear and cold.

Independence Day

August 15 is Indian Independence Day. Last night someone from Guest Relations called us and said that the hotel was having a flag-raising at 8:00 this morning, and invited us to attend. To my surprise, R agreed – he avoids ceremonies of any kind, and we never get up before 8:30. But we duly walked up to the hotel gate at five minutes to eight. A group of employees was arrayed around the flagpole; the security guards in their uniforms were trying to look military. Coffee and Indian sweets were kept ready at tables to one side. One of the staff came up to us holding a tray covered with pins in the colours of the Indian flag: saffron white green. R picked out a flag pin, I chose a small rosette shape. Then we waited. A few hotel guests trickled in, but most were staff. 8:00 came and went and R, always obsessed with time, began to be impatient. Finally, at 8:10, a car drove in the gate: the Manager had arrived. He drove a little beyond where we stood, got out and hurried back to the flagpole. As he passed us, R showed him his watch and said, “Independence came late to India.” (He told us afterwards that he had attended the Chief Minister’s flag-raising, which had been late.)

The flag was already at the top of the flagpole, folded into a small bundle. The Manager pulled the rope and unfurled the flag, from which flower petals showered onto the watchers below. Everyone applauded, and a tinny recording of the national anthem was played. The Manager shook hands with the assembled staff members, and we went to breakfast.

In the afternoon we will fly back home. When we scheduled our return for Independence Day we didn’t think twice about it; now, with the new state of high alertness, and an additional warning for today, we are dreading the prospect of delays at the airport. All passengers must now arrive at the airport 90 minutes before the flight time (for, in our case, a 20 minute flight). We don’t know whether we can carry on the laptop, my camera, R’s camera bag crammed with lenses – none of which we would like to pack into our suitcases.

It will all happen, one way or another. This day will slide into the past, and tomorrow morning I will wake up in hot Chennai, and walk downstairs to start the day, as if this place, with its concerns and ceremonies, never existed.

Necesitamos Simplicidad.

Hoy en Dia todo es demasiado complicado. Entender aquello que nos rodea es una tarea imposible. No es extraño que la enfermedad del momento y la del futuro sea la depresión; uno se siente minúsculo rodeado de tanta sofisticación a nuestro entorno. Uno debe además estrujarse la vida para simplemente sobrevivir, puesto que alguien nos ha convencido, de que no se puede vivir sin una hipoteca, una casa en la montaña y un gran coche en el garaje.
Hay quien dice que, lo más importante es encontrar el equilibrio entre “vivir y ganarse la vida”. Lo segundo sin lo primero es malgastar nuestro tiempo.
Para encontrar un equilibrio en nuestras vidas debemos aprender a preguntarnos ¿es esto lo re que realmente quiero ahora?
En el contexto anteriormente descrito, en el mundo empresarial será necesario hacer propuestas simples, fáciles de entender. La idea de estas propuestas es que no es preciso dar un exceso de servicios al cliente, sino que si se da lo básico para abaratar el precio significativamente, muchos estarán agradecidos (estrategias nofrills de las líneas aéreas de bajo coste).
El concepto de simplicidad como valor añadido, se impondrá. Es mejor dar algo simple, que se entienda fácilmente, que algo complicado Esto ultimo será fundamental en un entorno de infoxificacion (sobredosis de información), que nos conducirá a una ansiedad ante la elección , tenemos tal cantidad de opciones entre las que escoger que lo difícil será decidirnos.
Con el tiempo aprenderemos a apreciar a quien le comunique las cosas con simplicidad. El negocio de la comprensión (ayudar a que las cosas sean mas fáciles de entender y de usar) será de los mas boyantes. Y además una de las principales razones del éxito de una propuesta innovadora será la del rendimiento inmediato; que inmediatamente tras comprarlo ya podamos usarlo, lo que implica que sea fácil de usar. Simplicidad y usabilidad inmediata Irán de la mano y abrirán un espectro de posibilidades en el futuro comercio.