Saying no nicely is a skill that serves you well in all things great and small. This weekend, we were sitting in our living rooom in the middle of the day, and there was an unexpected ring at the door. I opened it to see who it was. A smiling man with a coupon book in his hand gave me his quick pitch about free raffle coupons and something to do with water-purifyers. He was a pleasant enough fellow, he spoke well, and he was trained in all the subtle tricks of the trade. As he talked about the free coupon, he tore one out at the perforated edge in a seamless move while never looking down at his hands, and held it ready to offer to me. I listened quietly and then said no. I didn’t slam the door on his face or anything, I just thanked him but said we weren’t interested. He in turn thanked me for my time and that was that.

This sort of thing happens regularly in everyday life, there’s always someone trying to sell you something. It could be a product at your door, a project at work, an idea amongst friends. The selling never stops. You try to sell people on your ideas too. That’s the way we work. What gets us into trouble is that we are scared, or shy, or feel guilty to simply say no. This compulsion to agree with everyone and accept everything thrown at you is the cause of more troubles in life than any other single trait.

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I didn’t read any baby books when I was growing up, by that I mean books specifically written for infants and pre-schoolers. I got thrown straight into the deep end with fairly serious comics, books of folk tales, and some other strange things that most wouldn’t consider appropriate childhood reading. It was only natural after growing up listening to stories from Indian mythology and fables from around the world, lovingly narrated by my parents and grand parents. These stories weren’t protective, or clean, or politically correct, instead they were raw and brutal and beautifully human. It was a time when He-Man cartoons were being shown on TV and the idea of moral stories for children that didn’t all involve cute teddy bears, was considered normal and healthy.

During a recent chat with a friend, our rambling conversation drifted towards the issue of being a parent and the trials of growing up. Our discussion reminded me of an old story I had read somewhere, and I shared it with her in short bursts of instant messaging nuggets. She loved the story, so much so that she later went and shared it with her 8 year old son. When he reacted with similar enthusiasm, she asked me to send her a version for her to keep, and this is what I wrote:

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Since when did everyone expect to get paid to be nice and do the right thing? Look around you, it’s happening as we speak. It’s not new, of course, it’s been going on a for a while. Right from the beginning of time, religion has been promising you good karma, a luxurious after-life with an attached bath, or at least a favourable promotion in the next life as compensation for being nice. That was all fine and good in a slightly abstract way, but the moment doing the right thing started to become worth your while in cold hard cash, we were doomed.

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This morning I was up bright and early with a spring in my step and a purpose in my heart. While I slowly woke up in bed, I had decided that today I would shun all distractions and write like there was no tomorrow. A few hours of concentrated effort could easily earn me an article or three for my blog, and then I could go back to unfocused endeavours without as much guilt.

After making sure I was within the legal limit of sleepiness for operating a piece of computer equipment, I sat at my desk and opened up my note book (the real life dead tree one that I write my ideas in). Sure enough there were a good handful of article ideas, at least a couple of which I could tackle without too much research or other preliminaries.

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Events, festivals, and celebrations are excellent knots along the infinite thread of life. For human beings lost without a frame of reference in unending time, they serve as good reminders to think, to thank, and to re-evaluate our existence. But while habits can be a force for good, they can also be the end of consideration and thought.

I can say without slipping into nostalgia that most human interaction during celebratory times has been reduced to the perfunctory. Not because we care less, but because we take it upon ourselves to show and prove that we care for so many more people.

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Libraries and bookshops might be great places to meet people, but I fear sexual equality is in peril in these houses of intellect and tripe. I was at the biggest mall in the world yesterday, and in it is one of the largest bookshops I’ve had the pleasure of losing myself in, Kinokuniya. Yesterday was part of the Eid holidays here in Dubai, so we were there trying to consume time in the largest possible chunks. What better place to do that than a book shop that never ends?

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I had a very disturbing vision last night. In a deep reverie between consciousness and sleep I was abruptly transported into the cavernous interiors of the latest largest mall in town, Dubai Mall, which I recently visited. There on the obscene Olympic-size ice rink, bathed in the shifting neon glow of the giant LED screen looming over it, I saw a stampede of teenagers gathered. They were the cool kind of teenager, with their hair spiked just so, and their ill fitting jeans draped around their over-sized sports shoes just so. A murmur filled the air, and when I pushed through the uniform horde to listen in to what they were talking about, I was shocked.

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