On Measurement and Immeasurables

Ever since I attended business school thirty five years ago I have been obsessed with measurement.  That is one thing business school does to you.  It teaches you that you cannot evaluate what you cannot measure.  And, at the risk of oversimplifying, management is all about evaluation or assessment.  So it teaches you to measure all kinds of phenomena.

So over time I took my tendency to measure to new levels of obsessiveness.  Long before we were invaded by fit bits I used to count the number of steps I walked.  I measure with great effort the time it takes me to chant various slokas and I have carried out extensive analyses of the speeds at which I chant the many slokas I know by heart and the time it takes to complete each of them at the various speeds I chant them. 

I measure the number of shaves I get with each disposable razor and therefore the cost of each shave.   I have a meter running in my head that calculates the cost of each shave. 

 

I estimated the number of cups of tea that I needed to make on the new water heater that I bought for making tea in my office for Rs 900.  Each time I make a cup of tea I remind myself how many more cups I need to have made before the heater would have paid for itself.  I reset this number for the fact the price of a cup of tea in coffee shops increased even while I was recovering the cost of the heater. 

 

Let me also remind you that before I bought the heater I had figured out that the time taken to make my own tea was less than the time in going to the lounge for having tea.  And this did not include the time I spent often in unproductive gossip at the lounge.  When I worked out the time spent on such gossip it would often prove to be even more costly as I took time to work out the emotions that would get stirred up on getting to know things that I would have been better off not knowing.

Before I bought my new scooter I worked out the number of trips I would need to make to my office to recover the investment I would make in a scooter that I wished to replace my car with for my office commute.  I did this under multiple scenarios depending on when I would sell the scooter in case it started giving me a back-ache.

Although I am a terrible penny pincher myself, occasionally I give away a minuscule fraction of my relatively meagre earnings to some people or causes I consider deserving.  I keep track of every paisa of it, right in my head.

I guess you get the picture – I am one helluva measurement monster.

Now that is not without many other collateral costs.  It makes me a miserable spouse, father, son, son-in-law, sibling, nephew, colleague and whatever else.  I can go on.  Luckily for me and the women of this world I have never been a boy-friend.  Imagine the reaction of this woman who realizes that I had been measuring the cost per unit of intimate moment that I spent with her by dividing the cost of an evening out by the number of minutes I got look at her beautiful face or hold her delicate hand!

 

I pressed on with my counting, remorselessly.  I have believed that life would be one unstructured financial and emotional spaghetti if one did not measure.

 

But out of the blue, some weeks back this question struck me like a bolt:  What would I do with the results of all those measurements?  

 

This question crossed my mind a few weeks back when I had occasion to interact with this super wealthy benefactor.  He is a fairly old man. I first said to myself that the measurements that this man would have to deal with would be well beyond my puny, tiny brain. 

 

But then just as instantly this other thought started bothering me: What would happen when he left this world, as indeed he would have to some time?  How relevant would all that measurement be to him once he ceased to be in this world?

 

It struck me at that moment that whatever we measure in life did not seem to matter in the larger scheme of things.  That said, I do not know what makes for that larger scheme of things. 

 

It did occur to me though that once I am gone what would matter is what I have done for those that I leave behind.  The joy I would be able to give them out of what I have provided them would matter I am sure to them.  The misery I would leave behind by the hurt I may have caused would matter just as much.

 

Ironically, school did not teach me how to measure such emotions.  Which is perhaps why we always talk about indescribable joy or immeasurable suffering.  If you cannot describe how can you measure?

 

Under the circumstances it appeared reasonably safe to say this about the larger scheme of things though:  What one can measure does not seem to matter.  And what matters, it seems, one can never measure.

Nanni….Namaskaaram…