18, and I'm dead

My daughter is 18 - which should be a celebration of the coming of age of the eldest in my family. Except that, until yesterday I was 18. Don’t bother with the Math.

I am 45, but lived like I was 18.

What did my 18 look like? Get drunk, get laid – in between those endeavours, rock the world, make an impact, schmooze, chill, cash-in your cool-ness, occasionally… show up in the real world and be a man.

Now that my daughter is 18, I feel a chill. Please do not be the 18 I was. It’s a waste.

... like Messi missing a penalty

The big change for this Fifa World Cup in Russia is, it’s my first world cup sober.

Also, it is the first world cup since 1998 that I have not counted-down, previewed or held an expert commentator’s view for a major media organisation.

In fact, divorced from a mass media reality that is no more a pithy, all-inclusive to describe how information is consumed, I am simply watching this world cup, carefully.

The other big change? Everyone nowadays knows just enough football to make a sensible world cup

comment. And that is painful. Like Lionel Messi missing a penalty.

Bad habits kill

The bad habit is cool and funky; an indulgence to be worn on the sleeve as a star for a person who is just too talented to be bothered. And youth seems to stretch on forever.

The bad habit takes root and grows into a way of life that enjoys a narcissistic world view.

Then, the bubble bursts. Middle-ageism dawns.

The way of life becomes a burden and for the first time I am able to see it for what it really is; a degenerative, soul-crushing choice that cannot be reversed.

Bad habits kill. They can and they will.

I am...

I am of the view that members of the clergy should stay away from social media.

I am of the view that my children should stay away from social media.

I am of the view that my wife should stay away from social media.

In fact, apart from me, everybody I love and care about should be social-media defiant.

I am the person who understands when, where and how to best use and optimise social media for it to have the least negative effect on my life.

But, you know how life is.

I am so full of crap.

Sexist and bigoted...

And back in Pune.

I always assumed I was the epitome of gentleman. As assumptions go, several boomerangs slammed me in the face to suggest otherwise; but none involved being sexist or bigoted.

A close buddy of mine got crucified for being sexist and bigoted. The buddy was close enough for me to feel the pain of every social media post.

Was I sexist and bigoted too?

Turns out by today’s definition of sexism, I am; and by today’s understanding of feminism, I am.

I am from a different era.

One where you thought before you spoke, or wrote.

I know nothing; and damn! that's ok?!

There used to be a time, in another millenium, when not knowing stuff was a problem.

My very being as a person would be brought into question by an over-imaginative, pernicious mind if I did not know stuff.

I was 20 and the goal of life was to know everything; not to be a know-it-all, but to be all-knowing.

A couple of decades later and I believe my midlife reality check has begun by the realisation that I probably know nothing. That’s just the reality check.

The midlife crisis stems from realising that it is ok to know nothing.

Poof!

What Dubai offers you is the opportunity to form a perfect little bubble in which to, with some comfort, live your life.

It’s not a matter of good or bad, in terms of quality of life in the bubble, it’s just that the more years your spend there, the more coalesced the bubble gets in terms of engendering a new perspective of life.

Leave Dubai and depending on where you go, the bubble can go with you – if you have enough of money.

Or then… poof! Bubble bursts.

I came back to India after 10 years in Dubai. Poof!