I feel like books have a way of shaping the journey of our minds.

And there are certain books that drop in at just the right time, leaving behind ideas and emotions that our minds bind to, which eventually shape the way we move forward.

That is what I seek — ideas and inspiration. Ideas that lie underneath all the minutiae. The details matter, but only to the extent that they establish credibility. Outside of that, it is the ideas that linger. It is the courage that inspires. It is the vulnerability and self-awareness that binds you to the author as tears of unfulfilled potential trickle down, all somehow connecting back to your own personal journey.

Of the 35 books I read last year, these lingered.

Humankind by Rutger Bregman

In a year marred with hopelessness and negativity, Bregman dared to defend that humans are basically decent people. Most humans are okay, and our MO needs to involve trusting people more.

Bregman is an excellent thinker and writer, and when you layer years of history on him, he has an engaging way of finding patterns that are hard to argue against — like people are generally good; and if you don’t get scammed at some point in your life, you’re probably not trusting enough. He is unafraid of challenging Harari and Pinker, and at one point, he also takes on the holocaust. Yeah, I know.

Bregman fills the pages with unconventional and riveting anecdotes that make for a pretty fantastic read. And after reading this book, for a well-earned bonus, microwave some popcorn and go listen to this podcast where he discusses it with Steven Pinker.

Livewired by David Eaglemam

If you have heard of Eagleman, you know that he is a neuroscientist and more crucially, an excellent writer. He has written a plethora of books about the brain that should pretty much be classified as neu-erotica.

In his newest book, Livewired, he talks about the brain (again). And talks about its plasticity and adaptability (the usual brain stuff). But what really stayed with me from this book is when he talks about what we can learn from the brain. I know that sounds meta-weird but hear me out.

The brain, in combination with our human body, is highly adaptable and nimble. If you lose your hearing, our other senses compensate, and we quickly adapt. If we lose a leg, we still hobble along. Add some prosthetics and electricity to the equation, and the brain figures out a way to make sense of all the data it receives and still function.

Now contrast that with some of the machines and products we build today — a slight malfunction, and kaput they go. They are not “livewired” as our nimble brain is, they are “hardwired”. This simple idea really struck a chord as I start thinking about the social enterprise I am currently building — how can we be “livewired” as an organization?

Cradle to Cradle by William McDonough and Michael Braungart

Waste and poverty and “sustainability” is the space I am currently starting something in. So, this year I read quite a few books around that, but none of them were as powerful as this one. And I was annoyed because I was late to this party, and I wish I had read this book earlier. Why?

Well, the authors strip through all the tree-hugging, elite idealism that mars the sustainability space with an ideological alternative that makes a lot more objective sense.

They preach that we do not have to necessarily reduce our consumption but instead, redesign the way we consume. Instead of reducing our carbon footprint, how can we ensure that carbon stays where it needs to be — in the soil, and produce cars that take in CO2 and spit out oxygen as a by-product instead like trees? If we like long hot showers, why not build a shower and a plumbing system that infinitely recycles the water instead of drowning yourself in moral misery?

Yes, a little radical, but they also practice what they preach. So, if you care about sustainability, please read this, and reconsider if we want to be in a world that is merely sustainable, or ina world which thrives with humans as net positive assets of the ecosystem.

A Promised Land by Barack Obama

My hero. I teared up, and at times wept, through many parts of this book. Barack Obama is not perfect by any means, but his integrity, intellect and intention are nothing short of inspiring.

It is amazing how tough politics is; how the opposition, at most times, cares only about leverage. It has almost become a classic example of how a democratic system set up for debate-based progress is exploited through filibusters and propaganda.

It seems like it is all about gaming the game which in itself is worth mourning while accepting it for what it is, before perhaps, trying to alter it. A world where there is little room for good people, but a dire need for a lot of them.

And I learnt so much about the world through this book — the history, the context, the complexity of decision making, the varying sides of an issue and the importance of the people around you.

But hands down, the most effusing feeling I had after reading this book was the sheer admiration and respect for this complex man. A person who holds dearly onto the two most defining tenets of humanity: truth and self-awareness.

I will defend him and what he stands for with all my might, and this is despite him being far from perfect. Because as true as Shakespeare was when he said that the “evil that men do lives after them”, I want to fight for the good they do that does not have to inter with their bones, especially when it is drowning in copious amounts of good and good intentions.

There were other books that also played their part. Katherine Boo’s non-fiction narrative of the lives of waste-pickers living in urban slums left me weeping. Don Moore’s take on the perils of overconfidence and under-confidence in decision making felt like the right dose of reality I needed when I read it. Robin Jeffrey and Assa Doran’s Waste of a Nation gave me a detailed overview of the waste space in India, along with a couple of crucial advisors for what I am pursuing.

In the end, in a year filled with loneliness and a big fat pandemic, books, once again, served as worthy companions. Here’s to continued cheery companionship in 2021, minus perhaps, the pandemic.

P.S. Goodreads is where I maintain my reading lists, and sometimes review some of the books I read if I am sufficiently shaken. Plus, it’s arguably the only social media platform I’m not ashamed of spending time on.

Have you heard of the difference between causal reasoning and effectual reasoning?

Well I hadn’t either. But when I did, it gave me that tingly, joyous feeling that resonance beckons. It helped me make sense of the loneliness I had been feeling in the pursuit of entrepreneurship.

Wait, don’t Google it, let me explain.

Aurangabad

I got locked down in Aurangabad. I was supposed to be there for a three-week project, but then the mighty forces of (human) nature had other ideas.

The three weeks quickly became three months, and the illusion of my “plans” swiftly fell through. Nothing is for certain; that is the only certainty.

It was again one of those full circles of sorts. I spent the first nine years of my life living in this little (ish) city. And there I was, some twenty years later, imbibing society-life, like my first memories vaguely remember it.

I was fortunate (again) to be living there comfortably with (another) one of my uncles. For the past few years, the concept of family has always been through the phone — a stray obligation that sprinkles enough guilt to warrant an escape, only for reason to correct course.

But now, in India, it’s family loving through and through. No escape needed, just spoilage. Lots of spoilage, and finally the idea of home is starting to feel real.

It’s been 8 months here since I have been back, trying to start something that addresses man-made injustice. The pandemic has arguably been the only hiccup so far, but I can hardly complain. In fact, it became a reason to engage more immediately in relief efforts.

I worked locally with the organization I had the three-week project with. Their roots across the city allowed us to deliver relief to thousands of homes where relief was needed. And then nationally, we used data to direct donors to the most economically vulnerable states.

It was a whirlwind of pain and hope.

Pain because the pandemic amplified the gap between the fortunate few and the unfortunate many - it suddenly sucks even more to be poor.

Hope because it brought out the best in people. I met people who cared and did, who put themselves aside for a second, who embraced uncertainty to provide an inkling of certainty to those whom certainty refuses to coddle. Humanity, on average, is good. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be better.

This whole ride has been a stark reminder of the need for long-term, systemic solutions to man-made problems. And it was time to refocus on why I was back in India.

Over the last few years, I have worked with several entrepreneurs around the world. They all talked about how lonely the entrepreneurial journey is. I used to just nod along: “yea yea, sure”. But now, for the first time, with a little more skin in the game, I can empathize with them. It’s real. It’s scary. It’s weird.

A month or so ago, I was sure I am going to start up in Aurangabad. I built this sophisticated decision-matrix to figure it out, incorporating the best of reason while dropping in a drop of heart. And I was convinced.

But it’s never that straightforward, is it?

There are so many layers to every decision, so many moving parts streamlined by guardrails, compressed by time, unperturbed by information that exists but hasn’t found you yet.

But what if there are no real guardrails? For instance, I don't have massive amounts of student debt. Or unquenched wanderlust. Or a newborn. I’m in this for the long haul so there’s no real rush to figure it out either, right? I can pretty much be anywhere, and start almost anything.

And what about the doom of objectivity? Objectivity is generally coupled with lucidity. Until you realize that your emotions and personal desires make for a perfectly objective reason. Long haul, remember? The longer I maintain my sanity, the longer I get to work.

All this doom and gloom leads to a swooping epiphany. I am so lucky to have these choices. Because I have invested in such few certainties, I can embrace the wave of uncertainty to push me towards a shore that makes the most sense.

I can’t float around forever obviously, but this floating time is precious. As soon as I make my first investment in something physically certain — office space, a hire — the anchor drops. It’s much harder to re-calibrate then. Most people don’t have so many choices. But maybe sometimes, being spoilt for choice is a valid notion.

So yes, Aurangabad might no longer be where I start up.

Mumbai & Pune

I was in Pune for a couple of weeks for a couple of complicated reasons. But then a connection, a meeting, and suddenly, possibilities abounded, flinging open the doors of a future in Pune that were very much closed. I certainly didn’t see that coming. And no, this is no romantic complication.

In Mumbai now, and this is very much where the heart sits. It reminds me of the best of New York — the hustle, the bustle, the convenience, the people. There also seems to be more of an ecosystem here of like-minded folks doing some version of something similar.

And I finally have my own space. As much as family is awesome, I don’t think I have ever spent this much time with it over the last 13 years. I am used to my space, and that’s one luxury that seems to have become a necessity.

I have spent the last week trying to get settled in as quickly as possible, and that’s exactly when time seems to race. An amazing aunt has lent me her apartment here which I’ve made into an area of isolated comfort. I am focused on productivity and that seems to be ramping up.

But it’s not always hunky dory, I still have so much to figure out about what I want to start. I’m also desperate to just know when I’m going to stop moving — but that is a symptom of luxury that I need to bear.

The mornings are normally full of hope — let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. But during the evenings, when weariness weighs in, everything seems a lot less appealing. The easier path seems so much easier, but never tempting. Because from the get-go, if I wanted to do something easy, I would not be going down this path.

But that doesn’t make the evening hopelessness disappear. In fact, it stings even more — “you signed up for this.” And you feel that just a few more straws and kaput goes the camel’s back.

Back and forth, back and forth it goes.

Causal Versus Effectual

Amidst this cerebral tug of war, there’s always room for an explanation. Understanding the war is half the battle, right? And that’s when Madhukar Shukla’s book dropped in to say hi.

I heard about causal reasoning and effectual reasoning for the first time, and my mind yelled hallelujah. Or eureka. Or something like that when something that’s not your tongue clicks.

Let me quote, because well, we shouldn’t recreate the wheel:

Causal reasoning involves finding the optimal solution to achieve a predetermined goal with a given set of means. The focus is on arriving at a solution which is the most efficient, cheapest or fastest, etc. It is a useful way of approaching a problem when the situation is relatively predictable and the means and ends are more or less clearly defined. Sarasvathy likened causal reasoning to the act of solving a jigsaw problem. Solving a jigsaw puzzle assumes that the perfect picture already exists, and one only needs to find and put the right pieces together in the correct configuration.

(Shukla, Madhukar. Social Entrepreneurship in India (p. 54). SAGE Publications. Kindle Edition.)

Meanwhile:

Unlike causal reasoning, effectual reasoning does not start with precise objectives; rather, it starts with broad possibilities of yet-to-be-made future, and with the means and resources available to the entrepreneur. Entrepreneurs use these to make small experimental beginning, learn from the successes and failures of these steps, identify and co-opt partners, mobilize support and resources in the process, and tweak and modify their goals as they go along

(Shukla, Madhukar. Social Entrepreneurship in India (p. 57). SAGE Publications. Kindle Edition.)

Right?

As much as I think I have my idea all laid out in my head like a massive jigsaw puzzle, it is anything but. I have a vague-ish vision; I have resources and I (seem to) have the will.

Right alongside that is a fog of uncertainty. And the kicker is that the fog must exist. It should only lift as I tread along this path, unraveling permutations and combinations that I can’t even begin to imagine right now.

It’s embracing effectual reasoning, embracing the resources I have to steer towards a direction that makes sense but is not lucid. It will never be lucid, but it’ll almost always be about chasing lucidity.

While that might be true of the macro goal, the micro is all about causal reasoning. While I don’t know what the final jigsaw puzzle looks like, I can start seeing what the pieces are. And maybe causal reasoning is the way to manage the fruition of those pieces, while holding on to effectual reasoning as a guiding light to the overall vision.

All the while, like we already know, uncertainty will be certain. And uncertainty is almost always the root cause of discomfort.

So it all comes back to that cliched age-old way of being — finding balance while embracing discomfort.

Nice, wow, that was therapeutic, thanks for reading. Hopefully, I saved you a Google search.

I have been on a nervy adventure of starting a social enterprise focused on multidimensional poverty here in India. For those that have been following, some of y’all are probably wondering — dude, get with it already. Noted, noted, almost there.

For now, here’s where my heads at.

When it comes to starting a social enterprise, it’s super important to understand your burning, or the depth of the problem you care about. It’s a never-ending process, but probably the most important.

Over the past three years, I have been fortunate to have the resources to really understand the poverty space. I took all that and some of the skills I have nurtured to break down the problem in the detail that I needed. If you’re curious, here it is in all its pomp. If not, then this is what’s relevant:

~300 million people in India (or ~22%) are multidimensionally poor, and below is how they break out by occupation.

~79% of all poor workers in India (~62 million) work either in agriculture or construction. Low skilled factory workers come third at 3%, which is substantially lower. The rest are 2% or less.

So if I was to follow my own research, it’s pretty clear. Focus on farmers. And if I want an urban life, focus on construction workers. Those are the biggest pieces of the poverty pie and they need the most amount of attention.

But that’s not what has been on my mind.

I have been drawn to the waste management space (specifically solid waste) in India for a couple of reasons.

One because it employs some of the poorest — waste pickers, scavengers, rag pickers. And two, because there is value in waste that can fuel financial sustainability, and make mother earth better.

With regards to the first reason, there isn’t a whole lot of data available that isolates the poorest in the waste management space. Case in point: the data set I used in that graph-y analysis mentioned earlier. Out of the 50,000+ entries that were collected, I found maybe ten or twelve entries that had their job description as “waste picker” or a Hindi-equivalent. Some were grouped under agriculture, some under construction, some under coolies, some under sweepers, but to cut a long story short, this is not a category that’s looked at closely from a macro research perspective.

There is probably some overlap with the “sweepers” category and there might be some noise is the “sanitation workers” category, but it is not explicit. And that matters because being a municipal sanitation worker versus a rag picker is significantly different.

Here’s an exert from Assa Doran and Robin Jeffrey’s excellent book, Waste Of A Nation that throws light on this darkness (emphasis my own):

On the frontline of rubbish recovery are the people who collect waste. Scavengers, waste-pickers, ragpickers — by whatever name they are called, they carry a burden of poverty and prejudice. They are commonly regarded as dirty people, dislocated migrants, indifferent to basic hygiene. Their scavenging of open dumps is taken as an affront to social order and urban sanitation. And the fact that they work in places that were once regarded as no one’s land, or the commons, but now are often claimed by the state or private owners makes them ready targets for police harassment. Little is mentioned about the effects of their work in reducing the amount of rubbish destined for landfills.

The most vulnerable scavengers work in grim conditions on mountainous landfills, such as Deonar in Mumbai, Okhla in Delhi, Dhapa in Kolkata, Kodungaiyur in Chennai, and less prominent dumps like Belgachia at Howrah in West Bengal. Estimates put scavengers’ life expectancy at thirty-nine years. In their search for defecation space and salvageable materials, adults and children have learned to tread lightly. At Deonar “there are cracks and crevasses” that can trip, and even swallow, waste-pickers, Doron was told when he visited the smoldering mountain, “and kids inhale the toxic fumes” spewed by the mountain. In 2017, a landslide at another site, East Delhi’s giant Ghazipur dump, killed two people.

The usual competition on open dumpsites comes from rats, dogs, pigs, monkeys, and birds — all thriving on mixed rubbish. For ragpickers, sporadic fires generate an acrid haze that makes breathing difficult and presents the greatest health risk. Waste workers register high levels of tuberculosis.

Doron, Assa. Waste of a Nation (pp. 211–212). Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition.

Also, Kaveri Gill wrote an entire book on poverty and waste-pickers based on her research in Delhi. It’s a little dated (2007–10), but she does have estimates for amounts they earn. When adjusted for inflation, waste-pickers make about 30% less than urban construction workers and low-skilled factory workers.

High-level estimates peg the the number of waste pickers in urban India between 3 and 5 million. Another exert from Doran and Jeffrey on how elusive a real number really is:

“The census does not have an occupational category for ragpickers or waste-pickers. In New Delhi, a common estimate was that between 200,000 and 350,000 people worked as waste-pickers in an urban area of 16 million people in 2011. Rough calculations suggest that India’s 53 cities with populations of more than 1 million support close to 2 million waste-pickers, and its 465 cities with populations between 100,000 and a million sustain a further 1.5 million. At that rate, urban India in 2011 had at least 3.5 million people handling waste every day, and these calculations do not include the manual scavengers who clean the dry latrines described in Chapter 3.”

Doron, Assa. Waste of a Nation (p. 189). Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition.

For the record, there are also about 2.5 million “manual scavengers” who jump into sewers and cesspits, and I am not even looking to focus on them for now.

How do you quantify this sort of poverty? Of a group that barely gets isolated from a research perspective. Of a group whose life expectancy seems so absurdly low that it’s hard to believe. Of a group that competes with rats, dogs, pigs, monkeys and birds. Of a group comprising low caste folks and stigmatized minorities that either way get treated like shit. What statistical weight do I put on what factors to spit out an index that quantifies inhumanity?

Look, this does not mean that being a poor farmer or a poor construction worker or a poor tobacco product maker isn’t as bad. Those lives need uplifting as well, and in some dimensions, even more than waste-pickers. For instance, urban tobacco product makers earn almost half of what urban waste-pickers earn. And when it comes to poor farmers and poor construction workers, we have already seen that in absolutes, they encompass countries worth of people.

But where do waste-pickers lie in a world where even holistic data evades them? Even if there was data available, it’s not just as simple as what the “data says”.

There are other philosophical factors at play here that are almost impossible to program in while contemplating starting a social enterprise. Such as the importance of a viable starting point, the future of work, the probability of success (where the metric is the # of people lifted out of multidimensional poverty) and the scalability potential of a model with high, untapped intrinsic value. Each of these factors could probably do with an entire book worth of explanations, but I’ll spare you the additional dramatic justifications, at least for now.

Or maybe I am overthinking it? Rationalizing my gut in true Haidt-ian fashion? Maybe it is as simple as what the data says and I just focus on farmers and construction workers and tobacco product makers?

This back and forth isn’t startlingly novel, so it’s not like Jesus has returned and I need to reevaluate everything. It has been hovering around for a while. The only difference now is that it is time to make a decision.

P.S. It’s a strange time to share — the pandemic, the isolation, the emotion-filled search for purpose. It’s almost like you’re not allowed to talk about anything else. I felt a little weird putting this out there, more than the usual. And yea, just that.