Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome goes beyond merely feeling undeserving of your achievements. It’s a pervasive struggle that many face, which Jiddu Krishnamurti might describe as “conditioning.” Yet, its complexities often reveal darker layers. Over the past 10 to 12 years, I've endured multiple surgeries—some due to accidents, others stemming from genetics, and some potentially from lifestyle choices. These procedures leave scars that extend beyond the physical, prompting the existential question: “Why me?”

With each surgery, imposter syndrome tightens its grip. You begin to question the validity of your pain: Is it real? Am I imagining this? It must be all in my head! This internal conflict is especially pronounced if you're not severely restricted; you may manage to walk and complete simple tasks, yet struggle with physical activities that once came easily. The loss of those abilities can be mentally devastating, and I suspect this state of mind is more common than acknowledged.

We often see inspiring videos of individuals with disabilities excelling in extreme sports, which can intensify the feeling that your own pain isn’t valid. You try to “suck it up” and push beyond your limits, often exacerbating your condition. My surgeon measures success through range of motion, which I appreciate, but I yearn for pain relief. The surgeon’s advice can sow seeds of doubt: “Manage your pain with medication,” they say casually. Options like Gabapentin for nerve pain, Diclofenac, Meloxicam, Celebrex, Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Tramadol, OxyContin, or, God forbid, Dilaudid are presented as solutions. Yet, the constant use of these medications can wreak havoc on your liver or kidneys, not to mention the drowsiness that renders you ineffective at work. You find it hard to focus and wonder when this cycle will end.

Often, the most “helpful” comments come from those who know nothing of chronic pain. You can replace any ailment, but the response is typically the same lazy remark: “Be thankful; it could be worse.” Such condescension can plunge you deeper into the abyss of imposter syndrome.

Working with a great therapist has helped me unpack these feelings. To truly heal, you must delve into your past and confront the root causes of your insecurities. This requires vulnerability and honesty with both your therapist and yourself. Unfortunately, there’s no magic pill to cure this syndrome or break the pattern.

Incredible India

• The rustic smell of earth and the arsenic laced air.
• A forlorn dog, looking for food.
• A businessman on the run with $1.7 billion.
• Three businessmen on the run with $3.5 billion 
• Five bare foot toddlers running towards free food. 
• An aged cobbler on the street fixing soles, while broken souls walk past him all day. 
• Wires, wires and more wires. 
• A large leafless tree ostracized by the birds and apologetic for not being able to provide shade. 
• A cow rummaging through trash waiting for a plastic ban to take effect. 
• A selfish crow with a large piece of bread in his beak with uncanny resemblance to Nirav Modi. 
• A swanky couple exiting an Audi Q5 immersed on their iPhone X. 
• An equally un-swanky doorman hoping to buy an iPhone X in his lifetime. 
• A streetcar named desire parked on a street named despondence.
• An election poster on a wall that admonishes posters on the wall. 
• A man blissfully taking a piss on the wall under a “do not urinate sign”.
• A mosque, a Syrian church and a Hindu temple on the same street. 
• A run down shack, a gated apartment complex and a fancy bungalow on the same street.
• A corner shop with no corners to be found anywhere.
• A sign proclaiming “Lane Discipline” with no lanes on the road.
• A temple priest offering salvation while pelting stones at a stray dog.
• Street sounds creating a melodic symphony that resembles a dirge.
• A perfidious taxi driver ogling women passengers while massaging his crotch, with a sticker on the rear of his car that reads “This taxi respects all women”
• An auto rickshaw driver stopping in thick traffic to assist an old, visually impaired woman to cross the street.
• A big rig truck with “horny please” sign on the back
• A car with the sticker honestly proclaiming “Sometimes when we miss someone, we keep checking their profile…” 
• A tempo (mini truck) with this sign painted on it’s back. “No one stays a virgin, life fucks everyone”
• A used sofa cum bed on sale. 

Social Construct!! What is it?

Construct

“An idea or theory containing various conceptual elements, typically one considered to be subjective and not based on empirical evidence: history is largely an ideological construct.”

My mind is in the rut for the last 10 days about Social Construct! Within minutes of arriving in another country away from the friendly confines of your home, you start sizing up the environment around you, especially if it is your first time in that country or it is a place that you are unfamiliar with. It is similar to your first date. You are anxious, dying to get to know your date and the possibilities that lie ahead for you with this person. Exploring a new or an unfamiliar country is much the same. Your mind starts to stretch. Your senses (all of them) are challenged. There are things you immediately are attracted to and there are some elements that either make you uncomfortable or just absolutely repulse you. There are plenty of emotions that emanate which can be anywhere in the spectrum between great and awful. Regardless, you leave with more than you came with.

That’s why travel, as timorous as it may be to someone who doesn’t get out often enough, it can also change the minds of the staidest and ensconced in their surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with those who choose never to leave their comfort zone to explore. My neighbor in Ohio had never driven farther than Sault St. Marie in Michigan which was only a few hours ride from Avon Lake, Ohio and had never even stepped a foot on an airplane. When he died at a relatively young age of 57, he left this big beautiful planet traveling a radius of no more than 300 odd miles. Did that make him less of a human being? Well, it depends on who you ask. If you asked him, he would say no, because he lived a fulfilling life. To him that meant being a good dad, raising 7 kids, running a pharmacy, being kind to anyone he ever met. He left an amazing legacy for his future generations of empathy, charity, loads of love and affection and much more. I miss him to this day. I have had the great fortune of meeting many others in my life who were ordinary people but made a profound positive impact on others. No books were published by them, they didn’t produce complex mathematical formulas, they didn’t run for office or do anything that would make them memorable to more than a few handful of people that crossed paths with them. They did change the world though. In their own small way, good or bad, they changed this world. They gave and they took. By definition that changes our environment.

Every living being on this planet contributes to its change. A cow provides milk to a child. That one cow alone made a difference in the life of that child, even if it was for one afternoon. I hope people stop and see trivial things around them and realize that even a fallen leaf on the road was part our ecosystem and made an impact. It is irrefutable.

Why then, do I ponder all of this? It’s primarily to search for what makes this world run. I am beginning to see that this world is based on some complex physical phenomenon that equates us in ways that are inexplicable to all of us. Epiphany, right? Actually no, I am sure I am not the first to propose this but “deep in my heart, I do believe” (a song we used to sing at our school assembly), that everything balances out in this world. That our life is based on a physical formula that we have not been able to decipher and I hope we never do. Because this needs to remain the greatest mysteries of our lifetime or perhaps the lifetime of this planet. Let that mystery die when this planet turns itself into a black hole.

Just like for every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction, just like every magnet has opposing forces, just like for every summer there is a winter. Everything in this world is balanced. You may not agree with that balance but unfortunately you have not been given the power to fix it and let’s take a moment to thank the universal forces for that. Humans have made extraordinary advances in every field and we can prolong life, attenuate the pain, the suffering but we are never able to control it. The schedule of people coming and going from this earth is not in our hands. You may think that by murdering or taking another life, you alone determined their fate? Nope, nada, nyet. That was an equation. You were a variable in that equation. End of story.

I could go on with multitudes of examples but I don’t want to turn this blog post into a polemic.

So that bring me back to the question that has been playing on my mind. What social construct should one follow?

Here are a few questions to ponder.

·      What is a social construct?

·      Who created it?

·      What gave this person or a group of people the right to create it?

·      Who manages the changes to this construct as we evolve?

·      Are laws based on Social Constructs?

·      If so, why?

·      What role does religion plays in it?

As we struggle in our own individual way and we all do really struggle. Grappling with challenges in life is universal. Mental, physical, health and other struggles are non-discriminatory. The cross all boundaries. There may be varying degrees of it but the pain and suffering doesn’t discern between the rich and the poor. Social constructs become meaningless and we turn to things that bring us comfort. Opioids, god, faith, people, alcohol, solitude whatever it takes to fix our ailments. You are Steve Jobs one day and the next day, deracinated from your throne of power and reduced to a rubble.

Trust me, this is leading somewhere. Stay with me.

Since this is my blog, I alone get to dictate the ending. It isn’t here to please you or to seek opprobrium. It is merely here to share my thoughts while I fly over the North Pole on my flight. I don’t know, there is something that I like about writing on a flight.

Over my 52 years, I have seen a lot. I have done a lot. Both good and bad. Have not kept track of the metrics and couldn’t produce a bar chart of it if anyone asked me for it. One thing has turned out to be prominent. Being nice in this world to others is far more fulfilling than being mean. Giving a part of you, whether it be physical, emotional, monetary, time, compassion or anything positive, makes you feel far more fulfilled than the opposite. There is a big caveat though and I am going to dumb it down tremendously. Give, but please don’t expect the behavior of the other person, pet, plant, tree, to change because of it. The second you put any expectation on it, you are breaking an equation. That equation will work itself out and you need to trust that the unknown universal force will work.

Please try it. The world is in desperate need for compassion. You need not look past Ghouta, Syria unless you were too busy counting likes of your post on FB of a selfie you took while eating that incredible Tiramisu at Gary Danko.

Thank You Dodger

Dear Dodger,

They say that all dogs go to heaven. There was even a movie made on it. I didn’t get to watch it. You see I am only 11 weeks old and I don’t know a lot about the world yet. I do feel your presence though and I wanted to write this note to thank you. I know you will wonder why but let me explain. 

I was born on November 18th, 2017 in Terrell, TX. It’s about 32 miles from Dallas, TX. I belong to a large family of Labradors and Poodle’s. My mom’s name is Paris Parker and my dad is a Labrador named Chip. I am a labradoodle. Brown and White. I have heard that my eyes have depth. I don’t know anything about that but my mom and dad’s owners raise puppies and sell them online. This is where my story begins. 

One fine day while I was running around the farm in Terrell with my siblings when I heard Kathy our breeder call out my name. She sounded excited and told me that I was going to California. I had no idea what that was or where it was. After a few days of trips to the vet, some shots and paperwork, the next thing I knew, I was being driven to Dallas Fort Worth for a trip to California. 

My ride was short but cramped. I was in a small crate and when I arrived at the airport, there were a ton of strange people putting tags and stickers on my crate. It was all very confusing to me. Scary even. Here I was playing in a large farm one minute and then the next minute, I was in a small locked crate and being sent to an unknown place being handled by unfamiliar faces. I had water and food in my crate but I was really scared. After arriving at the airport there was paperwork to be done and a few hours later, i was handed to a lady with American Airlines. I was given a final goodbye and sent of to an unknown destination and to people who I didn’t know. I can’t read but the sticker on my crate said CARGO! I may be a puppy but even I know, that I am not CARGO! I am a human!! Well, a dog. But still, I am way more human than most humans.  

The flight from Dallas to San Jose was long. Very long. I was annoyed and I must have annoyed many by my incessant barking but what could I do? I am a baby and I was scared and I had no idea where I was being sent and what was going to happen to me. Eventually, I fell asleep and was woken up by a loud thud. A few minutes later, I heard lots of commotion. Strange noises were coming from all over. I was tired and didn’t know what was going on. Then all of a sudden I saw light. My crate was removed from the dark cargo hold in the belly of the plate on to the tarmac. It seemed like a gorgeous sunny day in California? 

Another 30 to 40 minutes passed and I was brought to an office where two people were anxiously pacing the room. The lady who carried me in to the office told them that they had to show ID and sign paperwork. All of a sudden I see this really pretty face peering through the grill of my crate trying to catch my eye. All I could see were two strangers and they were as apprehensive as I was. They were your mom and dad and soon to be my mom and dad. 

It seemed like it took forever for the zip ties to be cut before the crate door could be opened. Your dad, was holding an iPhone and trying to record the entire episode. He thinks he is a millennial but he is really old and lame. Your mom though, she was all love! Within minutes, I was in her arms and she must have felt my heart beat, because it was racing. I had no clue or idea where I was or who was holding me. All I know is that it was gentle. 

The ride home from San Jose airport was short and I arrived at your house. I was greeted by a number of people when I arrived in Fremont. Everyone seemed so excited to see me but I was still not sure of what was happening. It was a big day for me and I was exhausted. Luckily I found two arms that were warm and welcoming. 

It was strange for me in many ways. Kathy, my breeder had given me a name. She called me Proud. My new parents were not sure what to call me. They debated for hours. They called me Sandy, then Duke, then Kershaw but finally settled on Rio. I like that name but somehow I get called Dodgy quite often and I wondered what or why that was. 

As days went by I found out that Dodgy was your nick name. You had lived in their home and their hearts for almost 14 years and after your passing they could not come to grips with getting another dog. On my first day, my mom was very distant with me. She held me and comforted me but it felt like she was not entirely comfortable with my presence. She was happy and she was sad. She was very conflicted but as days went by, I realized she felt that she was perhaps cheating on you. You were their dog for so many years and she loved you like no one else. Losing you has been hard on her but I want you to know that she still loves you and the way she treats me is a testament to that love. 

Your dad though, oh boy. Has he changed or has he changed? I am sure you can see from wherever you are that I get away with murder. Don’t be dismayed though. You may have gotten a rough deal with him but you paved the way for me. That’s why I am writing a thank you note to you Dodger. You taught my dad to love and nurture a dog. If it hadn’t been for you, he would have not known how to handle a puppy. He may still have a thing or two to learn but he does seem to be making significant progress. All dogs go to heaven. You did and you carved a place for me in the hearts of my parents. I miss my siblings and my family in Terrell but I think I can get used to this new place and the weather is nice as well. I am full of mischief but I hear that I am being signed up for some tutoring or at least that’s what it sounded like. 

They miss you dodgy, they still call me that at times but it doesn’t bother me because it comes from their heart and I know it is full of love for you. 

Rio

Dodger

Rio

Perfectly Imperfect

In the course of my lifetime, I have managed to piss off a

number of people. Unfortunately, there isn’t any definitive

authority that measures this statistic to compare with, nor is

there a benchmark for people with this behavior pattern to

gauge against. Whenever I attend a large party, I can’t help but

look around and identify people who I am either at odds with or

I chose not to associate with due to some previous form of

altercation or argument. This disturbs me and in my journey of

healing my soul, I often introspect and find ways to understand

the root cause of the issue.

There are many afflictions in this world where one can relatively

easily understand if you are affected by it and perhaps some

concrete ways to address it! There are some interesting ones out

there. The Aboulomania for instance, it involves occasional

onset of crippling indecision, there is Boanthropy, a strange

delusional disorder whereby a person believes himself to be a

cow or an ox and then there is Mary Hart Syndrome, it turns

out that there are reported cases of people experiencing seizures

upon hearing Mary Hart’s voice on TV. I don’t know who she is

but it sounds frightening.

To my knowledge, pissing people off or being overly combative

has not been classified as a infliction, disorder or a syndrome so

far or at least to my knowledge. Jiddu Krishnamurti once wrote

“ I am born with a label. I see that, as a human being, I am the

result of innumerable influences, social compulsions, religious

impressions, and that if I try to find reality, truth, or God, that

very search will be based on the things I have been taught,

shaped by what I have known, conditioned by my education and

by the influences of the environment in which I live. So can I be

free of all that?” I am not invoking this paragraph as an

absolution for my past paroxysm’s but merely an attempt to

discover my conditioning as a child and as a youth. Invoking

Jiddu Krishnamurti once again, “ If I set about deliberately to

free myself from my conditioning, that desire creates its own

conditioning. Whereas, if there is an understanding of desire

itself, which includes the desire to be free, then that very

understanding destroys all conditioning”. I know, heavy stuff but

this is a crucial step towards freedom.

My development as a kid was normal, there were no

extraordinary circumstances surrounding my childhood. There

were occasional severe beatings meted out by my dad for inane

pranks or harmless mischiefs but I can’t say it was unusual for

that era. Looking back, I do sometimes think that some may

have been over the top but these alone could not be a

contributing factor to my aberrant behavior. What then could

cause this? Why am I so high strung? Why do trivial things set

me off? Why do I have a biological core related to

combativeness?

To understand this, one has to understand anger. Most folks

only associate anger with loss of control, which is true but at the

very core, anger is an emotion. It can result from a conspecific

threat, a perceived loss or a feeling of unjustness among many

other factors. A key component of anger involves ego. The loss

of an identity that you have created of your own, the beliefs

about your personalty, talents and abilities causes anger. This

type of loss could be perceived or real. Contrast this with a loss

of an object (inanimate or otherwise) which is dear to you, in

such a situation you feel an emotion of sadness. The difference

between anger and sadness is the existence of a “willful agent”,

someone who acts deliberately. Think death by natural cause vs Murder.

We as human beings are nothing but a collection of our past

experiences. I am unable to identify the reason for my

preferences other than the fact that we are all conditioned by

our environment. Questioning our beliefs, values, goals and

judgements is the right thing to do because these are things we

hold dearly and identify ourselves with and every time anyone

challenges these, we get angry. Who then needs to change? Our

impulse always tells us that it’s the other person who needs to

change, but ultimately it is us who needs to act to make the

change. We need to question the basis of our sense of justice.

Self esteem plays a big role in anger. Having a low self esteem or

a low sense of self worth can cause hypersensitivity to criticism or

disrespect. I clearly see where I vacillate on a daily basis from

weak and vulnerable to strong, capable and worthy. I think

therein lies my problem. Somewhere along the line, I developed

a sense of low self esteem. I am not going to blame anyone in

particular for this as it does me no good, in fact I can't say that I

even know how it developed. All I know is that it took years to

develop it and it will take years to overcome it. The book “I am

OK, you are OK” delves into this complex topic and has been

used for many years to address issues related to self worth.

As cliche as it may sound, personal growth is a journey not a

destination. We need to work on it cognitively every day and

forgive ourselves for relapses and be forgiving and respectful to

others. I am confident that I will be able to find peace and

harmony in this journey of mine. I am however, content in
knowing that I am perfectly, imperfect.

O Captain, My Captain.

In the late 70/s and early 80’s, the vast majority of immigrants to the USA from India were mostly divided into two categories. The highly educated and those who never saw sunrise at a college, much less a high school. Unlike today, where the Indian diaspora is comprised of all sorts of people, the mid 80’s was mostly segregated into two broad categories, the very affluent or the working class. I belonged to neither when I arrived on the shores of this great country in January, 1986 with suitcase full of dreams and a jar full of my mothers tears. I belonged in a category that didn't exist or perhaps I choose to think that it didn’t. I finished high school on a wing and a prayer and in college those wings had been clipped and god was ignoring my prayers as it had figured out that I was just a disingenuous jerk. 

My goal was to achieve success at any cost without putting the necessary effort to achieve it. The lure of the short cut was omni present. The pressure to prove myself to my parents and the desire to show myself that I was capable were paramount and enveloped me like the thick fog of San Fernando Valley where I spent my first 7 years in the USA. With no life jackets and little guidance, I dove into the deep end of the pool without knowing the perils that lay ahead of me. 

After myriads of gigs and plenty of sputtering, I found my path in technology. I signed up for a programming course in Cobol, Assembly and Basic. I have never been a good student. I may not have been clinically diagnosed with ADHD but keeping my attention on anything for more than 20 minutes has proven extremely hard to this day. Many ADHD patients tell me that I am lucky that I can hold my attention for that long which much to my dismay took away a convenient crutch. It’s odd but when life takes away one thing, it give you something else to compensate. My compensation has been persistence. I don't give up that easy. Quitting is not in my DNA and that has held to me to good stead to this day.

After meandering for years in technology, I found myself looking for more. No, this story is not going to lead you down a hackneyed “true calling” drama. That may happen to some and every time I hear about it, I feel jealous pangs. For those who were successful executives but found their “true calling” by running a taco truck, I am envious of you and at the same time extremely thrilled that you found it. Others, like me, tend to slog through and are either risk averse or are more worried about taking care of their families and tend to stay closer to their comfort zone. I don't think there is anything wrong with either approach. 

After having spent about 15 years at various programming roles, I found myself looking for a job at Cisco Systems. Don't ask my why, but every once in a while when I drove down Tasman in the late 90’s, Cisco was teeming with energy and I used to dream about working there. Share prices were going up like a rocket to the moon and fortunes were being made under my nose every day. There was a party going on and I was outside, wistfully looking in, wishing that I was invited. A few years later, as luck would have it, a dear friend who was in a very influential position at Cisco referred me and I found myself standing in the lobby of building 12 on none other than Tasman street waiting for the hiring manager to come get me for a lunch interview. 

What transpired after that, changed my life in ways that will be hard to describe but I will try. The door from the office building to the lobby opened and I saw a gentleman with long blond/white hair and a beard walking towards me. With an aura of a sage and face that personified composure that only belongs to people who are evolved, Henry D White approached me and asked me if I was Kartik? Indeed, I said and shook his hands. He took his left hand and put it on my right shoulder and with a gentle squeeze told me that he was very happy to see me. We waited for another manager to arrive who was going to be a part of the interview and proceeded for lunch. For various reasons, my hiring at Cisco took an inordinately long time but this period allowed me to interact with Henry prior to joining his team. My career which spans about 31 years has been filled with managers who have been extremely supportive of me and I consider myself lucky to have escaped for the most part, the dreadful managers who do nothing but further their own cause. I didn’t know this when I joined Cisco, but my tenure under Henry White changed me forever. Not just as a manager, but as a human being. 

I joined Cisco in 2005 and the company was doing well, the luster had started to peel but the culture was still great. There were more layers of management at Cisco than a Baklava and you could find all kinds of managers, directors and VP’s. There were those who only managed upwards and there were plenty who managed downward but there were few who were extremely effective. Henry was one of them who clearly stood apart from the rest of the crowd. He stood “head and shoulders” above others. That was a line he told me one day that I will never forget. “Look me in the eye” he said, “You need to stand head and shoulders above the others, because you are capable of it”. My eyes kept betraying me, but Henry leaned in from across the table and insisted that I comply. “You have the ability to make profound changes at Cisco”, he said. Never had I ever heard those words. That was the power Henry had. The power that came from doing nothing but paying attention to you when you met him. You were the most important person to him in his presence. I can safely say, I was not the only one who felt that way. Practically everyone who worked for him was treated much the same way. There was no discrimination based on your title. Equal treatment for everyone. I rarely left his room after our 1:1 without feeling great about myself and inspired to do the right thing for the company. 

I know some HR folks will cringe about this, but some of my best moments were when Henry would sneak into your cubicle behind your chair and put his arm on your shoulder and tell you how great you were and for no particular reason. His sense of humor was for the ages and many of his stories cannot be retold in a blog post but suffice to say, there was never a dull moment when Henry was around. If you happened to be in a meeting with Henry and there were big wigs, he would make sure you got more exposure than himself and he was quick to help you if you strayed off course. Who does that these days? 

Reorganization at Cisco was as common a phenomenon as breathing is with humans. The dreaded day arrived and Henry was re-assigned to another role and moved to another building. A grown man went home that day and bawled his eyes out in front of his wife who had no idea what had happened. I explained that I wasn't going to be reporting to Henry anymore. 

That reorganization didn’t stop Henry’s relationship with me. Like a true leader, he stayed in touch regularly and made sure I stayed on track. Who does that these days?

This world lost Henry to colon cancer almost two years ago and there isn't a week that goes by where he isn’t there with me. Maybe not physically but his guidance and coaching shaped me and as silly as it may sound, I find him sitting next to me in many of my meetings, silently telling me what to do and with his hand on my shoulder, he says “ you are doing terrific”.