Knitted Strands

What is the hardest thing in life?

It is not something that can be measured. It certainly isn't something concrete, its tangibility long washed away by the waves of relentless qualms. It is something that is not discernible and yet fathomable, something that is not understandable yet comprehended, and something that is not obvious yet painstakingly apparent. Its verity actually a travesty of its former self.

It's single most dominating mannerism would be the pretentious palpability of ungrateful souls. Souls that have forgotten, taken for granted, misplaced trust, strayed loyalty, and most grievous of all, losing the pure faith of other unswerving souls.

In every life connection we each make throughout our lifetime, each strand of bond we sew unto other acquaintances along the journey are like determining dominos that ricochets off the wall of cogent reckoning padded with layers of faith and belief. It is the porous nature of these layers that is the coercive aspect of this relationship dynamics which allows us to accept, nurture, forgive, forget, heal, learn and renew.

Every now and then some of these strands are knitted together into a circle of closer affiliations. It is here where the ball of closely-knitted strands start to roll that eventually it becomes so entangled and entwined that it is almost impossible to untie it. One could cut it but what if these strands are made of tougher materials?

The only way is to burn this ball of intertwined amity with the searing fury of the fieriest inferno that can destroy and melt away the strongest and deepest of relations to the very last fiber of it.

In the last couple of weeks, I learned that the hardest thing in life is knowing which bridge to cross and which bridge to burn.

Timing Cry

Time was not linear. Far, far from it. Time wrapped in on itself, converged and entwined and embraced events and feelings and moments, then danced away into separate gleaming, shining, precious strands that stood alone and resonant before merging again into the vast stream.

The Preserver rested and dreamed, and time wove itself in and around and through him. Memories fluttered through his mind like gossamer-winged insects: a word that shattered centuries, a thought that changed the course of a civilization. Individuals whose insights and aspirations and even greed and fear turned seemingly inalterable tides of destiny into something new and fresh and hitherto inconceivable. Moments where everything teetered precariously on a crumbling brink, where something as intangible as an idea would send everything hurtling into oblivion or pull it back to safe, solid ground.

Each thought, word, deed, life was a mere drop in the vast ocean of time, constantly merging and separating to merge again. The concept would challenge some minds, the Preserver knew; but his mind had been destined to hold such contradictions as things being separate and having no separate identity. Grasping such elusive concepts was what he was born for.

Over all these thoughts of words and lives and ideas floated a terrible urgency and fear. Time was not linear; time was shifting and changing. But there were patterns that floated to the surface, their interwoven strands so clear and strong that even the dimmest minds could grasp them. Inevitability? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Again and again the pattern appeared in the swirling waters of time and destiny and luck, submerging and manifesting with a cold precision that made even the Preserver quail.

All the knowledge he held was precious; every memory, every sound, scent, sensation, voice, word, thought. All were vital to his being.

But this knowledge, of the pattern that had happened so often before and was about to happen again–ah, this was what made the Preserver more than important to his time.

It was what made him indispensable.

He opened to what was out there, every second that ticked by in its nonlinear, unique majesty challenging him to close in on himself, to not expose himself to the pain of the debris caught in the swollen river.

He could not allow himself such luxuries.

Not when the horrific knowledge of what had come before, and what was certain to come again, polluted the waters of time in his psyche.

He summoned all his energy, and sent forth the cry.

Of Skis, Guitars and Guns

I guess being on the road can be a harrowing experience if one lets it. For me, the 24 hours travelling time I clocked yesterday weaved by easily. It is amazing what the loneliness and solitary mood escorting me at the outset can be a rousing force to put a ceasefire to my lonesomeness. I met about three to four different characters throughout my journey - people whom I never would have thought I would know in my life.

On my first leg of the journey, I sat beside a couple who was returning to Sweden. We warmed up to each other almost as soon as I took my seat. We mostly talked about vacation spots particularly in Bali and they kept mentioning how beautiful and nice KL was. They briefly visited KL just a few days ago and wanted to return for a longer trip next year and asked me for some recommendations. I broached the subject of visiting Sabah and they were convinced, I hope they see it through. We even shared a common interest for skiing and I now know the spots to go to if I ever visit Sweden. These were very polite, humble and nice people. They asked about my job and purpose to New York, I even found out their first grandchild was born a week earlier and they can't wait to see him. They even shared a little about their marriage - marrying at the age of 20! When we parted at Arlander, it was with a sense of apparent friendship. They kept on reminding me how beautiful KL is, and how great and friendly its people are.

I met another interesting character on my way from Stockholm to Newark. Here was a lady who just got married a couple of weeks back and was missing her husband so, so badly even though he was just 20 rows behind us. I found out that she manages 3 local rockbands in Sweden and her husband discovered the 3 bands and also co-managed them with her. She is more on the administrative side and her husband more to the talent discovery and song production side. She let me hear some of the songs they produced and although I do not understand most of the words, the tune was very nice. I liked it very much. They were going to Brooklyn to visit the husband's family after their marriage and we talked a little about meeting the right person of your life and doing the things you love with the person you love - there can be no greater joy, or at least one of life's greatest joys. And these two were hardcore rockers that came complete with the tattoo and piercing package. They were dating for 17 years before tying the knot.

The final character was by far the most interesting. I met him at the arrival in Newark airport. He was my driver. During the trip to the hotel, we began our conversation with the usuals - weather, journey, time, vacation spots and the likes. Eventually I learned more about him. This chap was formerly in the army and was an army detective during the Vietnam wars. He was stationed there for 2 years and completed his tour of duty in '68 just before the US pulled their troops out of there in '69. He then enlisted in the police force and then became a detective in the NJPD. This career of his lasted 27 long years and he has been to many parts of the world and seen many things. He was asked to join the NYPD but declined many times for reasons he only wish to leave it as - he loves life. He spent the next 17 years in semi-retirement as a limousine driver. His grandson is enlisting to become a member of the NYPD and he owns a house in a small island in the Bahamas where the water is only 48 feet from his house. He is divorced, does not speak freely of his wife and children and has strong reservations against the current leader of his country.

I finally arrived safely at New York and realized that meeting these people truly has added to my perspectives in life. But recalling all these people I met along the way and the conversations I had with them - I can't help but see the irony in all that has happened to me or around me the past 24 hours or so. Some people are too refrained in living their lives, some has too many open-ended outcomes, while others use sincerity as a weapon to smother the doubts in their hearts. We are all knowledgeable in our own ways and using it to assist us in the best way to live our daily lives. It is not our job to judge others for what they think, do or feel.

The paradox of an informed society is that over a period of time, it is susceptible to bias towards the same sources that project powerful information.

The Other Glass Story

I could only sit still in silent sympathy as I watched him digest the news of the passing of one of his closest friends. The abridgement was overwhelming and his staggered silence was the greatest testament of all to his loss.

The passing of one individual that day rattled the entire household and unnerved us all. It felt like He took away something or someone that was part of our lives in one instant and then expunged all emotional connection and relation that was ever existent and replaced our temporary void hearts with that of blissful ignorance. At least that was how I felt...

The suddenness was unsettling, epsecially towards him. I feel for him because to be at such an age now where you have fewer friends and even fewer true friends, this loss is significant. Plans for the entire day were cancelled in exchange for self-imposed mourning. Walking down the lonely path of remembrance was what he needed as he viewed flashbacks after flashbacks of his own vivid hallucinatory images of what once was and what it could have been.

I pitied him even more so as I approached him. The creases and wrinkles on his face was deeper and more defined that afternoon, filled with deep apprehension and sorrow. There was nothing much I could do, or say...as I walked away. I knew he was embracing this loss and strengthening himself up. It was the only thing he was in control of, his feelings.

As I comtemplated on this turn of events, I realized how old he has become and how fragile he is becoming. Time which was once a measure of wealth has now become a gauge for longevity. The permanence of his existence and purpose in this world are now measurable, distinct and variable. I knew he felt like what if it was him instead.

And I can relate to his feelings. After all, the person in question was a man of great stature with enviable humility. He was one who despite his achievements overseas, remain a very down to earth man and to be in his presence was to be humbled by him. A person who placed his family first above all else, a man who provided unceasingly and abundantly and a friend who cared unconditionally and indiscriminately. It is also because of all these traits that he was highly valued by his company, widely known for his commitment and dedication beyond his scope of responsibilities.

When I looked back at the man sitting downstairs, I see so much resemblance in both and I feared the worse. I can only pray and hope to Him that he will start to realize that he is still working too hard for his age and he should start to let go, first by learning to trust others and then loving himself more. It would be such a pity for one to work so tirelessly and provide ever abundantly only to not able to enjoy the fruits of your own labour and nurture your legacy in the end. That man left behind a wife and a daughter and I sincerely pray for them to be strong in weathering the life ahead.

At the end of the day, I thought to myself that life is not so much about getting the highest paying job or the most rewarding job or the best track to career supremacy. Working should be viewed as a way of life, not living your life away with it.

I could only imagine that family's loss when I think of the things that their father would have wanted to do with them still, the marriage in which he wished to walk his daughter down the aisle with, the grandchild he had hoped to carry one day and knowing that at the end of his tenure on earth one day, he could finally rest satisfactorily knowing that his life was not measured by the number of breaths he had taken but by the number of moments that took his breath away. I sincerely wished that for him for he was such a fine man. But often in life, we do not get what we want, sometimes not even what we wanted for others.

It is cruel...

I will never look at certain things the same again because seeing one man who has already done it, and living with one who is doing it is not an easy task. As much as how we are all taught to believe that everything happens for a reason and God always has plan for everything, I could easily as well look at my life in a perspective of a half-full glass rather than a half-empty glass.

But there is another side of this 'glass' story that few of us realize. Imagine holding a glass filled with water. It is not about how heavy the glass is or what is the weight of the water inside. The key lies in how long do we hold this glass. It is easy to hold it for a few meager minutes but as the duration lengthens and the minutes become hours and the hours become days (if that is even possible), the act becomes tougher until it reaches impossibility. It is simply the longer we hold it, the heavier it becomes.

Looking back at our life and how we balance it with our work, holding this same glass of water reminisces the way we handle our work stress. If we carry our burden all the time and bring home our stress for the most parts, sooner or later this uncompromising weight will come crashing down on us. We have to learn to put things down for awhile like resting the glass of water after a few minutes only to carry it again, and again and again. When we are refreshed, we can continue on carrying the burden.

Work is never ending but our life will end one day so learn to let things go everyday and never carry it home. You can just easily pick it up tomorrow.

As to the bereaved family, I pray for them strength and hope that they do see the only way to show others that they are strong is to be weak in their hearts, but stay remembered...

Penury of Credence

It felt like the crucifying crushing of a thousand perfidious stakes through my heart. It felt like the overwhelming pressure of the paltry waters drowning in the ocean depths of hypocrisy. It felt like vindictive suffocation from the duplicitous air of unyielding intellect. And it felt like the misplaced trust of an unfaltering stanchness on an emotionless rock of affectation.

I lived through these senseless adages in a day that was filled with perpetual pleasantness until the hammer of adjudication fell in one fleeting motion of reversed affability. There was no way I could have envisaged the coming of the corporate onslaught. A circuitous blow from one of your own is usually not expected. It was almost evocative of a friendly fire literally behind enemy lines. Suffice to say, I was unprepared from the result of coming up short in my wildest imagination department.

We sometimes sell ourselves short of our own expectations in order to meet the unrealistic demands of others. I then wonder how could I have allowed myself to be placed into such an uncompromising situation to begin with. To live with this given obduracy is to condemn yourself into reviling reproach.

With recent events snapping into place in a series of perspicacious puzzle, I cannot help but be contented in the discernment of my own vocation. The acuity acquired is astute and inestimable. Hence for now, I shall immerse myself in the unrelenting forbearance of elucidating waters.

The proving grounds which I have so often and consistently whet upon will now serve as a reminder of how perilous and precarious it can be at times of unremitting adversity. The order of the day is the penury from which all my source of destitution stems from. With this in mind, I know that the custodians of my trade maturity has only so much to offer in terms of enduring enthusiasm in revealing the road to perdition before me.

It is very hard to live through such proxies day-in and day-out but I know the resilience lies within me as I try to shirk the belief that I am already at the edge of my patience and tolerance...two words among the very few in my life from which I borrow all my credence from.

And as I move onwards with both eyes affixed onto the finish line, I learn that life as I see it, is not painted with colours...but by colours of knowledge, choice and absence where we attach our faith onto. Sometimes we see the colours, sometimes we gain and lose some knowledge, sometimes we observe the choices, sometimes we recognize the absences...

And sometimes in life we do not get things the way we wanted, but we gain extra knowledge of what others wanted.

The Devil Is In the Details

In five days, the crusading contingent from Old Trafford will take on the expedition of the season. These seeking souls will be presented with a providential prospect of re-writing the history of football for the land which they hail from - England; and the charismatic club they humbly serve - Manchester United.

These gallant knights from the proving grounds of Carrington Field will embark on a valiant quest to invade the Roman fortress of Olimpico, wherein await the Catalan knights from the Camp Nou and their horde of Spanish culers. But how did it all began? Where did it all turned for both clubs? What were the stones that shifted in order for this momentous event to fall into place?

It all began about a month ago on a fortuitous night during the campaign to raze the Emirates where United - led by Sir Alex Ferguson, produced an awesome and overwhelming attacking display to destroy Arsenal. Park Ji-sung's opener was a result of fate and preordained fortune coupled with the faux pas of a young individual by the name of Kieran Gibbs - whose name will be remembered by the United followers for a while.

At that point in time, the United contingent went delirious. They knew the prospect of Arsenal getting three to go through was so remote to be beyond comprehension. But if United's opener came courtesy of good fortune, their next was the result of sheer audacity and bold impudence mixed with soaring ability.

Ronaldo scored a crackling freekick from 41 yards. To even think of going for goal from the spot would be dismissed by most as rash and imprudent. As Ronaldo stepped back and waited, ready to unleash his missile, Almunia knew what to expect. Indeed, it could be argued that from such distances, Almunia should not have been beaten. But as Ronaldo let loose his projectile - with venom and vigour, infused with his bodily spite and malice, and watched his shot dip and flicker, Almunia was powerless to prevent it from ripping into the net.

The rest for that night was history. As Sir Alex's men capered in exultant glory and cavorted in triumphant glee, he ordered them to tone down their merriment out of respect for the conquered combatants. It was the only mercy the Red Devils showed all night. Yes, not the chivalrous knights of Old Trafford but in truth, the fiendish Devils in disguise. The victory however, came with a price.

Darren Fletcher - one of the most honest men under Sir Alex's command, was red-carded in that battle. He was the only casualty from that fateful battle and will now miss the invasion to Rome and the siege of Olimpico.

His was the result of an unfortunate decision by the match referee in the form of a war priest whose blessings for the champions before the conflict and deliverance during the scuffle ensued in an error of tidings and injustice.

However costly this casualty was, Fletcher will be remembered as United's martyr on the day the history books were opened to be re-written. The rulling must stay as was etched in the stars. The decision of the referee should be final no matter what as it would destroy the very fabric of football reality should a red-card decision in a match of such magnitude proportions be ever reversed.

In a way, it is like opening Pandora's Box if you can challenge every decision. When you rule that it is not a red card, you are also saying it is not a penalty, and therefore not a goal. What do you do then? Start changing the results of matches afterwards? It almost feels like heresy in football. It would destroy the very foundation of decades of match rullings.

As harsh as it was, it is not an excuse and the Reds will go marching onto the Roman plains in five days. United have a date with destiny and under the tutelage of Sir Alex himself, will take on Barca hoping to come out victorious but not unscathed. Difficult and impossible decisions will be made, strategies and tactics will be revised and retried, knowledge of the enemy will be hungrily extracted and no soul will be left untouched by the deciduous inquest of the Red Devils.

The key to success and the devil, is in the details...

Vanquished

The sun rose up into the enthralling expanse of the surreptitious skies and descended into the mesmeric mesas spread out across the haunting horizon of the furtive flatlands. The wind blew athwart the untainted uplands and left behind a lingering squall of riveting breeze. A streak of fiery flare whizzed across the blackness of the starlit night, leaving a trail of blue brilliance as the only evidence of the overlooked shooting star.

The outline of a distinct figure stood at the edge of a ledge observing the singular spectacle unfolded before him. With a knowing gaze, he tilted his head down and noticed the periphery silhouette of reality around him...the realization that he has not trespassed in the secret plateau lately. It was the infringement of steadfast constancy that has been purged from this land.

But little did he knew that just at the apex of the distant horizon looms the encroaching enigma that will revivify the inhospitable terrains that now plague the panorama before him. As the tectonic shifts of relentless reproach reshapes the ground below his feet, weariness cloaks the lone figure but not before imparting on him the truth that if he cannot be contented with what he has received, be thankful for what he escaped instead.

Reeling from relentless restlessness can be resentful but rewarding if rightfully requited.

Without Wind

Launching a new range of products is like going through the entire process of making a baby, expecting one, labouring for one and finally looking after the baby during its infancy. It is almost as if you were playing the part of the expecting parent, as a he or she where applicable.

Before launching a product, you have to sit down with the key stakeholders of your company to discuss the prospect and feasibility of this launch and the planning involved in all related functions. Topics that are commonly touched are the launch timing, market positioning, competitors, financials, demand and supply planning. It is just like the forethought that a couple has before deciding to make a baby - the timing, financial aspects and supportability of this endeavour all comes into consideration. It is what we like to call prudent thinking.

Once all plans are finalized and management has given the project a go-ahead, the execution begins. Demands are forecasted, supply planning begins, marketing initiatives are conceptualized and new product development is initiated. Very much like the conception of the baby in the womb of the mother.

When pregnancy is confirmed a couple of months later, preparation for the birth of the baby begins. This is reminiscent of what happens when trade plans are confirmed, the artwork and formulation of the product finalized and approved and production planning begins. It is like what we do in anticipation of the baby coming into our life - seeking professional counsel in clinics or hospitals for mothers-to-be, shopping for the baby cot or the clothings, and preparing that heavenly baby room in the house.

Strange enough, the entire process of a new product launch spans approximately 9 months as well just like the pregnancy of a mother. What is even more uncanny is that the nearer the timeline of the launch approaches, the more complexity in the project arrises just like the more frequent contraction of the mother's womb when her expecting date looms nearer.

Finally when the baby is due, Murphy's Law kicks into full swing and anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The baby's expected dates are never exact and sometimes they are born earlier or later. In severe cases, giving birth may be a problem and the mother has to opt for a caesarian instead. In some instances, the place where the labouring takes place is not even planned. Similarly with the launch timing of a new product where sometimes it has to be deferred to a later date due to supply issues or moved forward due to business needs related to competition. Sometimes it is so critical that the products itself has to be airfreight from the sourcing site to meet the timeline - this to me is what I call 'pulling a caesarian' on a new product launch.

But after all the months and months of hardwork and planning, the product is finally launched and everyone in the team can breathe a sigh of relief, but only temporarily. It is like the calm before the next storm. You still have to monitor the sales and the market offtake. Perform a litmus test on the project to see if the demand captured was correct, how is the product doing at the consumer level and whether the launch is going according to plan. It is like that first moment when you hold the new born baby in your arms, checking if he/she has all 10 fingers and toes, ensuring if the baby can see and hear and cry.

Some weeks and months later, you still have to go back to the clinic for a follow-up check on the health of the baby. If there are any problems detected, the doctor will give advice and treatment accordingly for those less-fortunate babies to ensure every fighting chance of survival is given to the baby. It is no different with the new product. Every month the management will review its performance. Forecasts are adjusted accordingly until it reflects the true demand, consumer behaviour towards the product are still monitored and supplies are managed diligently to maintain an optimum level of inventory.

The rest, they say is history...

The milestones of the launch are like the milestones of the birth. We always look at the sales target achieved, market share obtained, brand equity developed and customer service level maintained but little do we realize it is like looking at our baby taking the first step, uttering the first word, going to school and so forth.

Be it a successful launch or not, it will always be our baby and it is love unconditional. It is what we all here go through day-in and day-out. When I look at it again, I see the irony of what we already do in our work with that of our lives, in the backdrop of a baby company. It is priceless.

It is never easy what we do as we are all very different people with different background and different mandate in the company. But we all strive to achieve the same goals. For me, it is about learning to adapt and meet everyone halfway. Deep down inside, I think the failure to launch maybe the single most valuable experience I can take away from this when it all finally comes to an end.

I cannot change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination. I am almost there now finally...

But a constant question remains at the back of my mind - what if there was no wind to begin with?

Intricacy Without Delicacy

Jamie folded her arms across her chest. The mood in the meeting room was becoming thick with tension, “We have been tolerating this immature behavior for some time now”.

“I totally agree. I think we can use this incident as an opportunity to make the change,” replied Terence. Already feeling a trail of sweat trickling down the back of his head, he continued, “I do see your point but it’s not like we can control our customers”.

All this is good finding but can we go on with the training? It’s almost 5pm…

“Yes, we don’t control the customers but we can teach them, educate them and share with them the problems we face when they do not co-operate with us,” interjected Lynn who suddenly became animated with life.

Suddenly Carrie felt the need to cut in as well, “It is so ridiculous when we have to reject back the orders just because their order is short of 1 or 2 pieces”.

Terence’s hands were both on the table now, “I see your point but who are we to educate our customers, we cannot just tell them what to do”. He chanced a glancing look to his side at Amber and continued, “Besides, we need to also try to understand their ordering system. They consolidate the total quantity from all outlets into one single order and more often than not, these numbers are not round figures and they do not have a system or program to round up the numbers”.

Great! This is going to take longer than expected. I thought this was supposed to be a training, how did it become a discussion now? When will this end?

“But can’t you tell them that for us, we have a minimum order quantity and everytime the order is short of 1 or 2 pieces, it gets rejected and this affects our customer service”, added Michelle with a scoff.

“It’s true you know, Terence. We are talking about our KPIs here. This is something that can be easily controlled and solved,” uttered Erica in the most innocent manner.

At this point, Terence was hoping that Amber would add a few words here and there to support him. Isn’t she part of his team anyway? But to his dismay, she continued to sit silently beside him.

“But I don’t see why we can’t solve the problem from our end. We can easily manipulate the orders upon receiving to round up to the nearest number as well”, retorted Terence.

Guys, guys! Stop it please, it’s past 5pm now and we are still going nowhere with this. I think I have to take this into my own hands. Should I intervene? Use subtlety? How do I make this end?

Jamie began again and this time with less aggressiveness in her tone, “We can manage it on our end but it is too much unnecessary work”.

“Non-value added as well”, said Lynn.

“Imagine you have to manually edit the orders line by line in the system. How many orders we have in one day from this customer?” queried Michelle.

“About 20 orders for one region…” declared Nina.

“So that is about 100 orders in total!” stated Jamie.

“That is why it’s so much work. Daily, do you want to key in 100 data points?” challenged Rachel.

That’s it. I know what to do now. I’ll just throw them off in a different direction that will lead to the conclusion I want. I can’t take this anymore. This will work.

“I guess that is a lot of work,” Terence conceded.

I saw my chance and started, “I think this is a good discussion. This is definitely an opportunity we can explore for both sides. We need to solve this, so will we be organizing a separate meeting for this?”

Immediately, everyone stopped the discussion and realized the time is past due and we have severely moved off topic. “Let’s follow up with this another time, we need to get on with the training first”, announced Jamie.

Ahh, the power of subtlety and sincerity!

The rest was history. How simple it was. Sometimes it is in front of us but we missed it. Sometimes we must recognize a problem for what it is and act on it but do so with the right state of mind, the right resources, the right commitment and the right timing. If knowledge can create problems, it is not through ignorance that we can solve them.

Portals of Discovery

More often than not we live through our lives as a series of connecting dots interweaving it with defining and profound events intertwined within the conundrum of possibilities.

Sometimes we are on a collision course and we just do not know it, whether it is by accident or by design. Either eventuality presents the same degree of futility. There is not a thing we can do about it.

A new man on the job changed the frequency and amount of work being sent each time to a group of workers in the suburbs. The first few shipments were inefficient due to this change which resulted in lesser work actually shipped out.

A few days later, a woman in the suburbs was on her way for her morning grocery shopping. But she had forgotten her basket and went back to get it. When she had gotten the basket, the phone had rang. So she stopped to answer it and talked for a couple of minutes.

While the woman was on the phone, Naveen was preparing lunch at home for his wife at work.

While he was cooking, the woman was off the phone now and had gone outside to her waiting husband in the car. But while she was momentarily distracted in locking the gate which took a handful of seconds more than usual, her husband hurriedly decided to drive their other smaller car instead.

Now while her husband was getting the smaller car ready, the woman got into the car just in time. The husband, who had been waiting for a long while, decided it best to take the smaller car to save on petrol, anticipating a long day doing groceries with his wife since the woman had been pretty slow so far.

All the while, Naveen was cooking.

The couple drove and had to stop for a boy crossing the street who left for his football game 15 minutes later than he normally did because he forgot to set his alarm. While that boy, late for his game was crossing the street, Naveen had finished cooking and was getting ready to do some house chores until noon before sending the lunch to his wife.

And while Naveen was taking out the garbage, the house phone rang. He picked up the call and his wife informed that work would end before lunch; a lot earlier than it normally would that day because there was not enough of work to go around from the new change in shipments. Her supervisor had sent all his workers home early because they were on hourly wages.

Naveen was already on his bike to pick up his wife home.

The husband earlier was waiting outside a bakery for the woman to pick up a cake which had not been packaged yet because the girl who was supposed to do it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot. When the cake was packaged, the woman was back in the car, which was blocked by a delivery truck.

All the while Naveen was driving.

Then the delivery truck pulled away and the couple in the car was able to move. While Naveen, the last to queue up behind some motorcycles at the traffic light, waited patiently for the bike in front to restart its engine when it suddenly died off during the wait for the green light.

Nearby was the couple approaching the traffic light as Naveen finally moved along.

And if only one thing had happened differently, if the bike's engine had not died off; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that cake had been packaged and ready because the girl had not broken up with her boyfriend; or the new man on the job had ensured the workers had enough work to go by; or the boy had set his alarm and got up 15 minutes earlier; or the husband had not decided to change cars; or that woman had remembered her basket and locked the gate faster; Naveen would have crossed the street and the couple would have driven by.

But life being what it is - a series of intercepting lives and incidents out of anyone's control. The couple did not go by and the husband was momentarily distracted as Naveen unknowingly followed the bike in front across the street when the lights just turned red. And that couple hit Naveen.

He died on the way to the hospital but his wife was informed that he was in a critical condition at the hospital. Close family members withheld the truth until she was safely there for fear of her emotions affecting her judgment.

Naveen left behind a faithful wife - Prema, and four loving, and bright daughters with the youngest being six and the oldest at sixteen.

About a month ago, I discovered that a man's errors are his portals of discovery.