<FONT COLOR="#FF0033"><B>Guest Article:</B></FONT> Manas Misra: Innovating life

Manas Misra

Research International USA

An Indian market researcher, who has worked in some unusual places across the world, thinks that human experiences have changed him far more than technology has.

Sometime ago, we were discussing the new innovations happening all around us and the manner in which they affect us. I tried pretty hard to come up with some innovation or technology changes that have turned me into a better or more rounded person. And I could not think of anything. Then I thought of all those strangers and unnamed people who did just that to my life.

While the innovation of technology touches us all at about the same level of comfort and provides a similar breadth of pay-offs, the changes in life caused by human interactions have a more lasting and life-changing quality.

Love of the family, friends, the feeling of falling in love, becoming a parent are some of the most intense feelings we would ever live to experience. But away from these, there are the experiences of interactions with complete strangers in far-off countries that have nothing in common with your background. Acts or events where seemingly ordinary people teach you something about who we are and what really matters in life.

On a cold wintry night many years ago, I landed at the Casablanca airport. I was there to start a new job, and due to bad weather and flight delays, I found myself without my luggage and without anyone to receive me at the airport. I knew as much of Morocco as of the moon. A taxi driver spotted me and offered to drive me to the hotel. He knew Arabic and French – I knew Hindi and English. We drove together in a raging storm that night into the city, which was all quiet and asleep. How many people tell you not to venture out in an unknown city with a cab driver in North Africa? He even hummed a latest Bollywood song for me. I am sure he did not understand a word of it, but he wanted to make me feel safe and comfortable. And he did. His fare? Exactly what was the regular airport-hotel fare. Tips were returned and a handshake and hug offered at the end.

Time and again in Morocco, I found the openness of hearts and homes for a complete stranger like me. Visiting Berber homes and eating with the village chief in the high Atlas Mountains or getting admonished by men on the street for not wearing a jacket on a cold day. All of them made space in their hearts for me.

While working in South Africa, I visited the black township of KwaMashu in Durban many times. A legacy of the apartheid days when blacks were restricted to certain sections of the city, a no-go area for many because of the fear of such localities. But I found some of the most fun-loving and welcoming people living in those areas. Was I afraid? No. But I was anxious – I did not know what to expect. But these were genuine, regular folks who were as interested in me as I was in them.

Or the old man in Cyprus who knew I was new to the country and made it a point to chat with me for a few minutes every day. An old guy who knew nothing about my work, but knew I was a homesick man trying to fit into the surroundings and also work to my full potential. He never needed to chat with me, but those 10 minutes every day made me figure out the loneliness and get on with life.

And these people have been everywhere where I have worked or visited. Ethiopia is a very poor country. In terms of per capita income and other growth parameters, it would be among the most deprived nations in the world. In 2004, I was travelling through Ethiopia for a research project on health initiatives undertaken by an NGO. The villages I saw were entirely made of mud wall huts with thatch roofs. There were no paved streets. There was no electricity or running water.

There I met a 13 year old boy, Freihot, who told me about his dreams. He wanted to become a teacher and open a primary school in his village. He never said he was poor and needed more money. I guess that was my perception of him. I wanted to do something for Freihot to tell him that he was doing great. But there was absolutely nothing that he desired from me. He did not want money or my pen or my shoes. He had a vision that was so self-sufficient and so complete that my presence or contribution made little difference.

Alan is my landlord here in Chicago. Now I have my opinion on landlords that ranges from bearable to obnoxious. When we were moving in, the first thing Alan did for me was offer his own car so I could go around and buy basic groceries. He had known me for a couple of hours at that time. He has been like that ever since. Offering to help, a friend.

And these people are all over. When I decided to work outside my country of birth, I had little idea of what to expect. Today, after nine years of having lived and experienced so many different cultures and regions, I think of that decision as the most life altering and enriching decision I could have ever made. When I hear people from other regions being called uncultured or insensitive or fanatics or barbarians or soulless, I long to ask those people how they figured that out. Standing in our own backyards, the rest of the world looks a pretty crazy, even scary, place. Till you manage to park your inhibitions and rest your preconceived notions.

I have realised that innovation is always about yourself. You learn something new from everyone around and hopefully manage to improve yourself in the process. Gizmos and gadgets are fine, but I would rather work on something more lasting.

(The writer, Manas Misra, is vice-president, Research International, Chicago, USA. You can write to him at m.misra@research-int.com)

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