Last Sunday I left my flat with the aim of buying an immersion heater and a 100 Watt bulb because early morning bathing was getting increasingly painful and it was worse with teh light out :) . I walked into the first electrical shop and asked for an immersion rod. Like an empowered citizen of modern India, I checked for the ISI mark and approved of the product. The shopkeeper, a sardarji, promptly wrote out a bill for the same (without me asking for it) while telling me that I would have to get the light bulb from another store.
I put the bill in my pocket and trudged along the lane to another electrical shop. Here I asked for a 100 W light bulb. While the store-help was getting the same, I checked with the storekeeper about the price of an immersion rod. He saw the packed device in my hand and asked me why I needed another one. Before I could answer, he 'commanded' me to show him the bill of the last purchase. I don't know what overcame me...I just gave him the bill. He looked at the bill for a few seconds then took off his glasses while shaking his head.
Storekeeper: Are you literate sir?
Me: Eh?
Storekeeper: Do you know how to read sir?
Me: Eh?
Then he handed me the bill and said, “If you do know how to read, could you please read what is written in the item column?". That was the first time that I took a look at the bill. The item column had an entry – an undecipherable squiggle. I looked up sheepishly and found the storekeeper staring at my face.
Storekeeper: What?
Me: Naught!
Storekeeper: What?
Me: Naught!
Storekeeper: What?
Me: Naught! ...Nothing…Nothing is written on it.
Storekeeper: Do you watch television?
Me: yeah.
Storekeeper: Do you watch anything other than Fashion TV?
Me: Eh?
Storekeeper: If you do, don’t you know that the bill must be a clear document of purchase? Don’t you know that tax indications and clear product information must be mentioned on the bill?
By this time, I was already red (yes, if you look closely, you can make out the colour even on my face!). I hurriedly paid for the bulb and while mumbling something incomprehensible about the terrible weather, quickly moved out of the store.
Last Sunday a class 5 pass storekeeper taught me something valuable. He taught me the value of consumer rights and also of the duties that protect the rights…it is a lesson that I sure won’t forget in a jiffy.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Its just 'cricket' - What can I say?
I tried very hard to ignore the issue (one of the billion others) currently plaguing Indian cricket. In fact, I would not have been writing this piece had it not been for my elder brother. He sent me his views on the entire issue and that’s when my self-imposed boycott of the subject was called off.
Before I begin, please let me make it very clear that assuming cricket to be a
religion (I’m an Indian…aren’t I?), Sourav Ganguly is my patron saint. He actions on and off the field always appeared to be rebellious. He never took the dominance of the white man lightly and never hesitated calling a spade by whatever name he felt like. He induced aggression, the likes of which were never seen before in Indian cricket. He also had an uncanny knack of getting out of sticky situations (Yes, Mr. Dalmiya?). If you noticed, I used the past tense…methinks that the might of the maharaja might have finally run into its match.
Gregory Stephen Chappell would, at this moment, contest every single point I mentioned above.
Cricketing history would give him the right to do so. He was one of the finest cricketers that Australia had produced (and she’s had quite a performance at that !). He was an adamant leader and a leader who wanted to win at any cost…any cost! He has a brilliant track record of having played 87 tests and 74 ODIs at averages of 53.86 and 40.18 respectively. What really speaks for him is his success rate as a captain in test cricket– 51%.
The coach alleges that the captain is a systematic saboteur, and I quote famously,
Before I begin, please let me make it very clear that assuming cricket to be a
religion (I’m an Indian…aren’t I?), Sourav Ganguly is my patron saint. He actions on and off the field always appeared to be rebellious. He never took the dominance of the white man lightly and never hesitated calling a spade by whatever name he felt like. He induced aggression, the likes of which were never seen before in Indian cricket. He also had an uncanny knack of getting out of sticky situations (Yes, Mr. Dalmiya?). If you noticed, I used the past tense…methinks that the might of the maharaja might have finally run into its match.Gregory Stephen Chappell would, at this moment, contest every single point I mentioned above.
Cricketing history would give him the right to do so. He was one of the finest cricketers that Australia had produced (and she’s had quite a performance at that !). He was an adamant leader and a leader who wanted to win at any cost…any cost! He has a brilliant track record of having played 87 tests and 74 ODIs at averages of 53.86 and 40.18 respectively. What really speaks for him is his success rate as a captain in test cricket– 51%.The coach alleges that the captain is a systematic saboteur, and I quote famously,
I can assure you sir that all my actions in this matter, and all others since my appointment, have been with the aim of improving the team performance toward developing a team that will represent India with distinctions in Test match and one-day cricket.
As I said to you during our meeting in Colombo, I have serious reservations about the attitude of some players and about Sourav and his ability to take this team to a new high, and none of the things he has done since his reappointment has caused me to change my view. In fact, it has only served to confirm that it is time for him to move on and let someone else build their team toward the 2007 World Cup.
This team has been made to be fearful and distrusting by the rumour mongering and deceit that is Sourav's modus operandi of divide and rule. Certain players have been treated with favour, all of them bowlers, while others have been shunted up and down the order or left out of the team to suit Sourav's whims. John Wright obviously allowed this to go on to the detriment of the team. I am not prepared to sit back and allow this to continue or we will get the same results we have been seeing for some time now. It is time that all players were treated with fairness and equity and that good behaviours and attitudes are rewarded at the selection table rather than punished.
I can assure you of my very best intentions.
In a single stroke the coach has augured that Sourav, John Wright and the bowlers had a nexus. Sourav was the ringmaster, John Wright was the clown, Pathan, Zaheer, Bhajji et al were acrobats and the chaps in the middle order were extras waiting for a casualty to happen.
Reprimanding a player for consistent non-performance is one thing but questioning the integrity of the Indian captain is very certainly another. The earlier pages of his ‘report’ paint a picture of a paranoid Ganguly causing schism in a 'unified team' and Mr. Chappell had better furnish proofs for those charges.
That being said, there is no excuse for Sourav’s inconsistent performance. He has no right to be eating into 9% of a full strength team ONLY because he was the prime architect of an almost successful ‘Team India’. In all probability he is beyond his prime. If that is true, he needs to exit gracefully without causing himself and the rest of the team any discomfort. A player of his legendary status should not be asked to ‘jump the wall’.
About the ‘review committee’, the lesser said the better. The committee, in its existence itself, is a farce. Come to think of it, the former captains sitting on the committee now look like idiots (no disrespect to their playing days). This is a committee that cannot implement anything. They can only ‘suggest’ remedies. Somebody please tell me, are we talking about a tummy ache here? There is no doubt left in my mind that all this deliberation would only lead to 'compromise'. There are further queries:
How can an ad hoc committee do anything of consequence in a situation like this?
Aren’t the selectors supposed to have their say in this?
Who the hell is Mr. Dalmiya to be on the board?
Whatever the outcome of this feud be, Indian cricket stands to lose. The captain’s integrity along with his physical and mental state has been questioned. The coach, in turn, has also been branded a liar by some of the bigwigs of Indian cricket. The board has, for the past year, looked absolutely despondent. With board, coach and captain losing credibility, whom do we believe?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Financial growth - The but(t) of it all
Is unbridled financial growth any indication of a company’s employee satisfaction? Many of you might think this to be a stupid question. To be honest, I always believed that higher financial growth meant higher employee satisfaction. Recently, though, Microsoft opened my eyes to the financial growth versus employee satisfaction balance.
Microsoft is easily the most profitable player in the tech industry. And it's raking in more moolah than ever, with a net income of $12.3 billion on revenues of $39.8 billion for the past fiscal year. Its twin monopolies, the Windows PC operating system and the Office suite of desktop applications, give it crucial advantages when it plunges into adjacent markets, such as server software for corporations and instant messaging for both businesses and consumers.
All that said and done, are its employees happy and satisfied? Methinks the answer is "maybe not".
In 1998 Microsoft Corp. hired computer scientist Kai-Fu Lee away from hardware maker Silicon Graphics Inc. The move showcased the software giant’s thorough dominance of the computer industry. Lee's expertise was in speech recognition, considered one of the next big leaps in computing. With people like him flocking to Microsoft's labs, it seemed but obvious that the digital world's reigning champion had a secure lock on the future. Things, however, did not turn out that way. In July 2005, Lee bolted from Microsoft for Web search king Google Inc. When asked about his shift into Google, Lee smiled broadly and threw both arms in the air. "I feel great, I can't wait to start work tomorrow morning."
Contrast that with how Lee felt about Microsoft. He painted a distinctly unflattering picture of the company's inner fabric. Lee, who opened Microsoft's research lab in China in 1998 and moved to headquarters in Redmond, Washington, two years later, fretted over what he saw as repeated blunders. He detailed how the more than 20 product-development centers in China tripped over one another, duplicating efforts and even fighting over the same job candidate. Lee called the company "incompetent." He praised Google, noting, "the culture is very supportive, collaborative, innovative, and Internet-like -- and that's bottoms-up innovation rather than top-down direction."
Lee is not the only one giving Microsoft a caustic treatment. Much of the sharpest criticism comes not from the outside world but from within. Scores of current and former employees are criticizing the way the company operates internally. Recently two researchers sent Chairman Bill Gates a memo in which they wrote: "Everyone sees a crisis is imminent" and suggested "Ten Crazy Ideas to Shake Up Microsoft." Many workers, like Lee, are in effect saying: "I quit." More than 100 former Microsoft employees now work for Google, and dozens of others have scattered elsewhere. Employees' complaints are rooted in a number of factors. They resent cuts in compensation and benefits as profits soar. They're disappointed with the stock price, which has barely budged for three years, rendering many of their stock options out of the money. They're frustrated with what they see as swelling bureaucracy, including the many procedures and meetings Chief Executive Steven A. Ballmer has put in place to motivate them. And they're feeling trapped in an organization whose past successes seem to stifle current creativity. "There's a distinct lack of passion," says one engineer, who would talk only on condition of anonymity. "We're missing some spunk."
Ironically, these were the very same characteristics that made Microsoft a popular workplace years ago. The company rode high and its employees rode high with it. Everyone slogged so that the company, and they themselves in turn, could do well. The stock prices soared and growth was the flavour of their work. Creativity was encouraged and passion was a common characteristic of Microsoft employees.
So what happened along the years? Was it poor leadership? Probably not…that is an unlikely theory. The most probable reason for employee dissatisfaction might have stemmed from the sheer size, financial stake and non-maneuverability of the organization. Microsoft, in short, had grown beyond the dreams of a creative thinker that was once William H. Gates III.
I don’t intend to claim that high profit making organizations will absolutely have employee-work dissatisfaction...that would be silly. All I’m saying is that monetary growth is often not the correct gauge to measure an organization’s success. A successful organization will definitely need to make excellent money (heaven help them otherwise!) but it will also need to necessarily ensure the constancy of the passion that ensured its progress. As they say, "The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions. "
Financial data and the case study for this piece were taken from The Business Week
Microsoft is easily the most profitable player in the tech industry. And it's raking in more moolah than ever, with a net income of $12.3 billion on revenues of $39.8 billion for the past fiscal year. Its twin monopolies, the Windows PC operating system and the Office suite of desktop applications, give it crucial advantages when it plunges into adjacent markets, such as server software for corporations and instant messaging for both businesses and consumers.
All that said and done, are its employees happy and satisfied? Methinks the answer is "maybe not".
In 1998 Microsoft Corp. hired computer scientist Kai-Fu Lee away from hardware maker Silicon Graphics Inc. The move showcased the software giant’s thorough dominance of the computer industry. Lee's expertise was in speech recognition, considered one of the next big leaps in computing. With people like him flocking to Microsoft's labs, it seemed but obvious that the digital world's reigning champion had a secure lock on the future. Things, however, did not turn out that way. In July 2005, Lee bolted from Microsoft for Web search king Google Inc. When asked about his shift into Google, Lee smiled broadly and threw both arms in the air. "I feel great, I can't wait to start work tomorrow morning."
Contrast that with how Lee felt about Microsoft. He painted a distinctly unflattering picture of the company's inner fabric. Lee, who opened Microsoft's research lab in China in 1998 and moved to headquarters in Redmond, Washington, two years later, fretted over what he saw as repeated blunders. He detailed how the more than 20 product-development centers in China tripped over one another, duplicating efforts and even fighting over the same job candidate. Lee called the company "incompetent." He praised Google, noting, "the culture is very supportive, collaborative, innovative, and Internet-like -- and that's bottoms-up innovation rather than top-down direction."
Lee is not the only one giving Microsoft a caustic treatment. Much of the sharpest criticism comes not from the outside world but from within. Scores of current and former employees are criticizing the way the company operates internally. Recently two researchers sent Chairman Bill Gates a memo in which they wrote: "Everyone sees a crisis is imminent" and suggested "Ten Crazy Ideas to Shake Up Microsoft." Many workers, like Lee, are in effect saying: "I quit." More than 100 former Microsoft employees now work for Google, and dozens of others have scattered elsewhere. Employees' complaints are rooted in a number of factors. They resent cuts in compensation and benefits as profits soar. They're disappointed with the stock price, which has barely budged for three years, rendering many of their stock options out of the money. They're frustrated with what they see as swelling bureaucracy, including the many procedures and meetings Chief Executive Steven A. Ballmer has put in place to motivate them. And they're feeling trapped in an organization whose past successes seem to stifle current creativity. "There's a distinct lack of passion," says one engineer, who would talk only on condition of anonymity. "We're missing some spunk."
Ironically, these were the very same characteristics that made Microsoft a popular workplace years ago. The company rode high and its employees rode high with it. Everyone slogged so that the company, and they themselves in turn, could do well. The stock prices soared and growth was the flavour of their work. Creativity was encouraged and passion was a common characteristic of Microsoft employees.
So what happened along the years? Was it poor leadership? Probably not…that is an unlikely theory. The most probable reason for employee dissatisfaction might have stemmed from the sheer size, financial stake and non-maneuverability of the organization. Microsoft, in short, had grown beyond the dreams of a creative thinker that was once William H. Gates III.
I don’t intend to claim that high profit making organizations will absolutely have employee-work dissatisfaction...that would be silly. All I’m saying is that monetary growth is often not the correct gauge to measure an organization’s success. A successful organization will definitely need to make excellent money (heaven help them otherwise!) but it will also need to necessarily ensure the constancy of the passion that ensured its progress. As they say, "The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions. "
Financial data and the case study for this piece were taken from The Business Week
Thursday, September 08, 2005
The Lion City
Mixed moments of anticipation followed closely by gushing speed…SQ 407 took off to deliver us to the Lion City - Singapore.
The Flight
After Thai Air, Singapore Airlines was like paradise. The seats were spacious enough and the entire ambience was conducive to comfort flying. Once we were airborne, the stream of food and drinks started flowing. The food and wine were excellent by any standards. Although they did not serve Dom Perignon, their La Vieille Ferme Rouge was just as good. The in-flight entertainment also was a class apart. Latest movies and music albums filled the system and we were soon absolutely comfortable in our seats. An hour into the flight, air disturbances took over. From then on, till we touched down at Changi, the plane rattled like a, …well, rattle. I did not catch a wink of sleep on the flight primarily because I was loaded with too much entertainment and secondarily because the weather was unruly.
Changi – The Airport
The name ‘Changi’ is derived from the Changi tree that finds pride of place in Singapore. The Changi tree is protected by law and the airport is an outstanding tribute to it. Okay, I admit that I have not been to many international airports but it is difficult for me to imagine an airport better managed and facilitated than Changi. The airport was absolutely spic and span with travellators and escalators in almost all places. The most amazing characteristic of the airport was its deathly silence. In fact, this was exactly the case with all of Singapore. The people were absolutely quiet as if under some oath of silence. The immigration officials in Singapore were lightening fast and very friendly. It took all of 10 minutes for us to leave aircraft and get onto the streets of Singapore. This too after several lingering moments watching the different airport sights.
While returning to New Delhi we spent three hours at the Changi airport and still managed to be just in time for the boarding. Why? We were just taken in by the amount of shopping that was possible at the airport. Enormous duty free shops held center stage and they were offering everything from imported chocolates to imported wine at reduced prices. The airport had centers in the lounges that offered free Internet access and no one was seen hogging the terminals. Hello Indira Gandhi International Airport! Anybody listening?
Singapore City
The entrance to the arrival gate of Changi airport was decorated with stunted palm trees and the drive to the city only demonstrated why Singapore was probably the cleanest city in the world. There are probably more dustbins than there are people in Singapore! Jokes apart, I doff my imaginary hat to all the citizens of Singapore for keeping their country so beautifully clean.
The transport system in Singapore was really admirable. Although the teksis (taxis) were very expensive, buses and the MRT (Mass Rail Transport) were very affordable means of travelling. The frequency of the MRT and the bus service was definitely above par. We practically never had to wait more than a minute or so for transport.
Singapore gave me an impression of a flourishing Asian city albeit with a strong European flavour. Expensive tastes, fast cars, quiet people, business and more business. The people are very dignified and helpful. In fact, there was never a moment during my trip when I felt like an outsider amongst them.
Jurong Bird Park
You need to see this to believe it. If you love birds, don’t pass u
p this experience for anything. Although the price of the ticket was cutthroat, Jurong Bird Park was ceaselessly amazing every second of the time spent there. Every kind of bird that we ever studied or dreamt about was present there. The true beauty of the park was the proximity with the birds sans cages. The pelicans, swans, flamingos were all beautiful. My favourite experience was feeding the lories. As the picture would probably tell you, I was delirious with joy! The Bird Amphitheater was also great with the macaws, toucans, hornbills and parrots doing their histrionics with extreme dignity.
The birds of prey looked out of sorts in their enclosures. These birds belonged to the free skies and even their large cages looked small compared to the skies. The enclosure of the hornbills was
excellent. We ‘met’ many different types of hornbills and 'spoke' with some of them. We also saw the world’s largest species of pigeon. This pigeon would easily weigh about 8-10 pounds each and stretched to at least 2 feet from beak to tail. JBP also boasts of the world’s highest man-made waterfall. This waterfall, at the waterfall aviary stands at 30 meters and is a majestic sight to behold surrounded by the mist of the rainforest.
The ostrich, emu, cassowary, penguins…I could just go on. If I start to completely describe the JBP, it would take me all of 2 hours and loads of writing space. So I’ll just say this much, whatever you do in Singapore, for your own sake, please do go to the JBP.
Night Safari
Those of you who are from India, please don’t waste your precious dough on this. It is simply not worth it. Somehow all the animals looked drugged to me. They were unbelievably stationary for wild animals. The leopard trail, however, was the only notable exception. We walked through an enclosure with king size bats in its. You could touch the bats for all anyone cared. The leopard was only a 6-inch fiberglass wall away from us. That was all that was between the king of the night and us. The tram that took us through the safari showed us more cattle and deer than we had ever dreamt possible. One animal that was a genuine surprise package was the tapir. Well, that’s about it!
Sentosa Island
The meeting schedule was too tight…still we accommodated the Sentosa trip and we would have been silly to miss it. After our entry, we took the free bus to the underwater world. This cost us a fortune compared to the
fares it had to offer us. We saw some fantastic sharks, dugongs, sea-dragons etc but nothing worth the money spent in gaining admission. Also, the souvenir shop in its premises was incredibly expensive. In short – no fire, only smoke. After having spent 40 minutes underwater (we had to recompense for the dollars spent there!) we took another bus and headed out for the musical fountains. These fountains were some of the most amazing that I had ever seen. It came packaged with a complete hologram show. The entire musical extravaganza was held under the auspices of the 23-meter tall merlion that stood towering over everything else.
The show went on for all of 15 minutes. Thereafter, we went to the Siloso beach and ate at the Seven Eleven store there. By the time we had completed our rambles on the beach, we were close to 10:30 p.m. A helpful bar owner arranged taxis for us. The taxi that arrived to pick me up was a Mercedes Benz - C class. Admitted, that was a first and special too!
Malls
Singapore has malls that are really worth visiting…unfortunately I am not too much of a shopping person. However, I still managed to go to Suntec City Mall. There was an ongoing electronics exhibition that allowed us to get away with great prices. We even bought a Sony digital camera and saved at least INR 7000 on the bargain. The Suntec City mall had 5 ‘towers’, each for a different commercial purpose. It was wonderfully organized.
I also visited the Raffles City Mall. This was actually more amazing than the Suntec mall. It had a fountain that danced (not to our tunes though) and had almost all the major international fashion and food chains possible in it. The entrance to the mall had tall artificial palm trees that looked like sentries.
Clarke Quay
All I can say is that this could easily be called the Venice of Singapore. A beautiful riverside with eateries and shops on both sides, this is the source of eventful walks and beautiful sights. The riverbank was lined with barges that were excellent places for eating. The opposite side of the road had numerous pubs, ice-cream parlours and small shops selling dandy items. There was also a spot where you could do partake of reverse bungee jumping and get your horrified face taped for S$45. Worthwhile?
Little India
You’ll know when you get there. As soon as I got out of the MRT, the first wall to my right had the words "Fu** Co**" sprayed in large black letters. Absolutely aghast, I turned away only to see walls stained with betel juice. This had better be India…little or not. The first time I went to Little India, it was after the Night Safari and almost 11:00 p.m. The restaurants were shutting down and I just about
managed to get some food from an Andhra food joint. The biryani was as sumptuous as that made in a Shiraz or a Karims. After dinner, I had to nearly wait for 10 minutes to get a taxi. The taxi drivers wanted to hurry away from Little India as fast as their wheels could take them (which was about 80 km/hr).
The second time that I went to Little India (Actually the MRT stop before it) was to visit the Mustafa shopping center (Serangoon Road). Be forewarned, if you are from a developing nation, (where a S$ would mean 28 bucks) don’t try to buy clothing from Singapore (Mustafa or not). Only the toiletries are a little cheaper than India. You get a lot of original Gillette, Nike and Adidas products for much cheaper than you can imagine - Bigger the brand, more the margin.
Food
Good food… that is the key to a satisfying trip anywhere – at least that is what I believe…and good food we did have. Lets start with Indonesian. Kintamani, the Indonesian restaurant in Hotel Furama Riverfront was an excellent choice. The food was almost Indian except that it was much sweeter. Even the meat items were far sweeter than admissible to the Indian palate. We had different preparations of fowl, and red meat, each matching up to the other. Finally the dessert arrived – a dish called Tjendol (Bride’s tears). It is a sweet drink with milk & some jelly things in it.
Chinese food was unimaginably different from our usual Chinatown fare. We had steamed rice, beef steak, fish and chicken in soya sauce. Dessert was a sweet drink made of dates, something that looked like seaweed and some other ingredients (I’m sorry I could not catch anything the bearer said about the dishes).
Water was ably substituted by green tea. Although it looked very simple, it was delicious and very satisfying.
For our timely dose of Indian masala we went to Muthu’s Curry. My, my…what amazing curries. Apart from home, I have never ever tasted such classic recipes. The ambience was very calming and conducive to good eating. The bearers were very friendly and eagerly showed us what we were going to eat. My eyes sought out and zeroed in on a large flower crab. Ten minutes later I began to deflower the crab that was done rare in an explosive curry. Niju had the famous meen thala (fish head) curry. It was definitely the best food that we had in Singapore.
Seafood was at its best at Shangrila, one of the most posh hotels in Singapore. Here I had some fabulous stuff. The chef in charge of cold seafood helped me in my selection of the choicest items. I had live oysters with Tabasco sauce and lime (mind blowing). This really pepped me up and I went ahead and had octopus tentacles with some weird sauce (I had lost count of new sauces by then). This was also marvelous. Apart from this I had plenty of squid, lobsters and crabs. The crowning dish was a bowl of shark fin soup. Although I partook of the dish, the story behind procurement of the shark fins was very painful and I silently vowed to never consume that dish again. Dessert also had unbelievable variety. I had tepanyaki ice cream and strawberries dipped in molten chocolate. The height of bourgeoisie was the existence of a chocolate fountain. People could simply collect some of this molten chocolate and dip their candies or fruits in it to enjoy a delicious bite.
My tight business schedule disabled me from going out to try ethnic Singaporean dishes but I did try the various satay (Although all the Southeast Asian countries will lay claim to it). Other joints that I visited were KFC, McDonalds and Burger King. Most of these international food chains are available only in select cities in India. The food was simply amazing and it is a pity that most people in India do not get to taste the crispy fried chicken of KFC or the celebrated beef burger of McDonalds or the turkey bacon burger of Burger King.
The Flight
After Thai Air, Singapore Airlines was like paradise. The seats were spacious enough and the entire ambience was conducive to comfort flying. Once we were airborne, the stream of food and drinks started flowing. The food and wine were excellent by any standards. Although they did not serve Dom Perignon, their La Vieille Ferme Rouge was just as good. The in-flight entertainment also was a class apart. Latest movies and music albums filled the system and we were soon absolutely comfortable in our seats. An hour into the flight, air disturbances took over. From then on, till we touched down at Changi, the plane rattled like a, …well, rattle. I did not catch a wink of sleep on the flight primarily because I was loaded with too much entertainment and secondarily because the weather was unruly.
Changi – The Airport
The name ‘Changi’ is derived from the Changi tree that finds pride of place in Singapore. The Changi tree is protected by law and the airport is an outstanding tribute to it. Okay, I admit that I have not been to many international airports but it is difficult for me to imagine an airport better managed and facilitated than Changi. The airport was absolutely spic and span with travellators and escalators in almost all places. The most amazing characteristic of the airport was its deathly silence. In fact, this was exactly the case with all of Singapore. The people were absolutely quiet as if under some oath of silence. The immigration officials in Singapore were lightening fast and very friendly. It took all of 10 minutes for us to leave aircraft and get onto the streets of Singapore. This too after several lingering moments watching the different airport sights.
While returning to New Delhi we spent three hours at the Changi airport and still managed to be just in time for the boarding. Why? We were just taken in by the amount of shopping that was possible at the airport. Enormous duty free shops held center stage and they were offering everything from imported chocolates to imported wine at reduced prices. The airport had centers in the lounges that offered free Internet access and no one was seen hogging the terminals. Hello Indira Gandhi International Airport! Anybody listening?
Singapore City
The entrance to the arrival gate of Changi airport was decorated with stunted palm trees and the drive to the city only demonstrated why Singapore was probably the cleanest city in the world. There are probably more dustbins than there are people in Singapore! Jokes apart, I doff my imaginary hat to all the citizens of Singapore for keeping their country so beautifully clean.
The transport system in Singapore was really admirable. Although the teksis (taxis) were very expensive, buses and the MRT (Mass Rail Transport) were very affordable means of travelling. The frequency of the MRT and the bus service was definitely above par. We practically never had to wait more than a minute or so for transport.
Singapore gave me an impression of a flourishing Asian city albeit with a strong European flavour. Expensive tastes, fast cars, quiet people, business and more business. The people are very dignified and helpful. In fact, there was never a moment during my trip when I felt like an outsider amongst them.
Jurong Bird Park
You need to see this to believe it. If you love birds, don’t pass u
p this experience for anything. Although the price of the ticket was cutthroat, Jurong Bird Park was ceaselessly amazing every second of the time spent there. Every kind of bird that we ever studied or dreamt about was present there. The true beauty of the park was the proximity with the birds sans cages. The pelicans, swans, flamingos were all beautiful. My favourite experience was feeding the lories. As the picture would probably tell you, I was delirious with joy! The Bird Amphitheater was also great with the macaws, toucans, hornbills and parrots doing their histrionics with extreme dignity.The birds of prey looked out of sorts in their enclosures. These birds belonged to the free skies and even their large cages looked small compared to the skies. The enclosure of the hornbills was
excellent. We ‘met’ many different types of hornbills and 'spoke' with some of them. We also saw the world’s largest species of pigeon. This pigeon would easily weigh about 8-10 pounds each and stretched to at least 2 feet from beak to tail. JBP also boasts of the world’s highest man-made waterfall. This waterfall, at the waterfall aviary stands at 30 meters and is a majestic sight to behold surrounded by the mist of the rainforest.The ostrich, emu, cassowary, penguins…I could just go on. If I start to completely describe the JBP, it would take me all of 2 hours and loads of writing space. So I’ll just say this much, whatever you do in Singapore, for your own sake, please do go to the JBP.
Night Safari
Those of you who are from India, please don’t waste your precious dough on this. It is simply not worth it. Somehow all the animals looked drugged to me. They were unbelievably stationary for wild animals. The leopard trail, however, was the only notable exception. We walked through an enclosure with king size bats in its. You could touch the bats for all anyone cared. The leopard was only a 6-inch fiberglass wall away from us. That was all that was between the king of the night and us. The tram that took us through the safari showed us more cattle and deer than we had ever dreamt possible. One animal that was a genuine surprise package was the tapir. Well, that’s about it!
Sentosa Island
The meeting schedule was too tight…still we accommodated the Sentosa trip and we would have been silly to miss it. After our entry, we took the free bus to the underwater world. This cost us a fortune compared to the
fares it had to offer us. We saw some fantastic sharks, dugongs, sea-dragons etc but nothing worth the money spent in gaining admission. Also, the souvenir shop in its premises was incredibly expensive. In short – no fire, only smoke. After having spent 40 minutes underwater (we had to recompense for the dollars spent there!) we took another bus and headed out for the musical fountains. These fountains were some of the most amazing that I had ever seen. It came packaged with a complete hologram show. The entire musical extravaganza was held under the auspices of the 23-meter tall merlion that stood towering over everything else.The show went on for all of 15 minutes. Thereafter, we went to the Siloso beach and ate at the Seven Eleven store there. By the time we had completed our rambles on the beach, we were close to 10:30 p.m. A helpful bar owner arranged taxis for us. The taxi that arrived to pick me up was a Mercedes Benz - C class. Admitted, that was a first and special too!
Malls
Singapore has malls that are really worth visiting…unfortunately I am not too much of a shopping person. However, I still managed to go to Suntec City Mall. There was an ongoing electronics exhibition that allowed us to get away with great prices. We even bought a Sony digital camera and saved at least INR 7000 on the bargain. The Suntec City mall had 5 ‘towers’, each for a different commercial purpose. It was wonderfully organized.
I also visited the Raffles City Mall. This was actually more amazing than the Suntec mall. It had a fountain that danced (not to our tunes though) and had almost all the major international fashion and food chains possible in it. The entrance to the mall had tall artificial palm trees that looked like sentries.
Clarke Quay
All I can say is that this could easily be called the Venice of Singapore. A beautiful riverside with eateries and shops on both sides, this is the source of eventful walks and beautiful sights. The riverbank was lined with barges that were excellent places for eating. The opposite side of the road had numerous pubs, ice-cream parlours and small shops selling dandy items. There was also a spot where you could do partake of reverse bungee jumping and get your horrified face taped for S$45. Worthwhile?Little India
You’ll know when you get there. As soon as I got out of the MRT, the first wall to my right had the words "Fu** Co**" sprayed in large black letters. Absolutely aghast, I turned away only to see walls stained with betel juice. This had better be India…little or not. The first time I went to Little India, it was after the Night Safari and almost 11:00 p.m. The restaurants were shutting down and I just about
managed to get some food from an Andhra food joint. The biryani was as sumptuous as that made in a Shiraz or a Karims. After dinner, I had to nearly wait for 10 minutes to get a taxi. The taxi drivers wanted to hurry away from Little India as fast as their wheels could take them (which was about 80 km/hr).The second time that I went to Little India (Actually the MRT stop before it) was to visit the Mustafa shopping center (Serangoon Road). Be forewarned, if you are from a developing nation, (where a S$ would mean 28 bucks) don’t try to buy clothing from Singapore (Mustafa or not). Only the toiletries are a little cheaper than India. You get a lot of original Gillette, Nike and Adidas products for much cheaper than you can imagine - Bigger the brand, more the margin.
Food
Good food… that is the key to a satisfying trip anywhere – at least that is what I believe…and good food we did have. Lets start with Indonesian. Kintamani, the Indonesian restaurant in Hotel Furama Riverfront was an excellent choice. The food was almost Indian except that it was much sweeter. Even the meat items were far sweeter than admissible to the Indian palate. We had different preparations of fowl, and red meat, each matching up to the other. Finally the dessert arrived – a dish called Tjendol (Bride’s tears). It is a sweet drink with milk & some jelly things in it.
Chinese food was unimaginably different from our usual Chinatown fare. We had steamed rice, beef steak, fish and chicken in soya sauce. Dessert was a sweet drink made of dates, something that looked like seaweed and some other ingredients (I’m sorry I could not catch anything the bearer said about the dishes).
Water was ably substituted by green tea. Although it looked very simple, it was delicious and very satisfying.For our timely dose of Indian masala we went to Muthu’s Curry. My, my…what amazing curries. Apart from home, I have never ever tasted such classic recipes. The ambience was very calming and conducive to good eating. The bearers were very friendly and eagerly showed us what we were going to eat. My eyes sought out and zeroed in on a large flower crab. Ten minutes later I began to deflower the crab that was done rare in an explosive curry. Niju had the famous meen thala (fish head) curry. It was definitely the best food that we had in Singapore.
Seafood was at its best at Shangrila, one of the most posh hotels in Singapore. Here I had some fabulous stuff. The chef in charge of cold seafood helped me in my selection of the choicest items. I had live oysters with Tabasco sauce and lime (mind blowing). This really pepped me up and I went ahead and had octopus tentacles with some weird sauce (I had lost count of new sauces by then). This was also marvelous. Apart from this I had plenty of squid, lobsters and crabs. The crowning dish was a bowl of shark fin soup. Although I partook of the dish, the story behind procurement of the shark fins was very painful and I silently vowed to never consume that dish again. Dessert also had unbelievable variety. I had tepanyaki ice cream and strawberries dipped in molten chocolate. The height of bourgeoisie was the existence of a chocolate fountain. People could simply collect some of this molten chocolate and dip their candies or fruits in it to enjoy a delicious bite.My tight business schedule disabled me from going out to try ethnic Singaporean dishes but I did try the various satay (Although all the Southeast Asian countries will lay claim to it). Other joints that I visited were KFC, McDonalds and Burger King. Most of these international food chains are available only in select cities in India. The food was simply amazing and it is a pity that most people in India do not get to taste the crispy fried chicken of KFC or the celebrated beef burger of McDonalds or the turkey bacon burger of Burger King.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Tears of a Nation
"The agony of shattered dreams
or that of a condemned station
augmented by haunting screams
and the renascent tears of a Nation"
It was early evening of November 1st, 1984 and Block 32 of Trilokpuri, a resettlement colony in east Delhi, was gently bearing witness to the end of yet another day. The women were beginning to prepare dinner while their men-folk were returning from work. Suddenly the streets were filled with a fierce uproar. Men, turned blind by hatred, stormed into every house. Women were raped in the presence of their families while their terrified families pleaded for mercy. In one of the many incidents, a woman was gang-raped in front of her 17-year-old son; before leaving, the marauders torched the boy. Scores of families were killed over the three days and nights of non-stop violence: most of them were butchered by putting burning tyres around theirs necks. Trilokpuri, like the rest of the Sikh settlements in and around Delhi was turned to ashes. Street dogs gorged on rotting human entrails; drains overflowed with charred and mutilated corpses; women, wailing and clutching children fled the wild mobs armed with every conceivable weapon. The very last shred of human dignity was torn away and trampled under foot.or that of a condemned station
augmented by haunting screams
and the renascent tears of a Nation"
21 years later, a packed upper house witnessed a particularly somber scene. The Prime Minister of the nation, ironically a Sikh himself, apologized for the tragedy that took place in 1984. "I have no hesitation in apologizing to the Sikh community. I apologize not only to the Sikh community, but to the whole Indian nation because what took place in 1984 is the negation of the concept of nationhood enshrined in our Constitution," he said. An emotional Dr. Singh said that while one cannot rewrite the past, "…as human beings we have the will power and we have the ability to write better future for all of us".
1984 Delhi to 1993 Bombay to 2002 Gujarat – The situation remains the same. As a country we fail to protect the secular fabric that binds us. Humiliating history also fails to prevent us from committing such heinous crimes against humanity and against the very concept of nationhood. As soon as such communal crimes are committed, various leaders of the society start the blame game to ensure maximum mileage for the next election. No one thinks, even for a second, about the corpses that once had the breath of life but now have only a family to weep for them.
The date or the community is irrelevant. True relevance is only of the fact that the nation must be responsible for its people. That means we must accept responsibility for each other. This can happen only if we learn to accept our diversity as our greatest boon and learn to love and live with each other.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Software Testing, Trials and Tribulations V 1.01
The entire education wing of our mother-company was implementing software to automate the publishing processes. Our Delhi office was abuzz with activity because our foreign colleagues were going to arrive at (Read: Take over) our office.
They say that the Gods must be crazy…yeah, looking at what I had to undergo in the initial session, I’m sure that that’s pretty much the same for the rest of us!
The schedule-overview session saw a remarkable happening – over 50 well dressed ladies and gentlemen getting stuffed (now don’t get the wrong idea!) into a 12 ft X 30 ft conference room. For the first time the poor room, once the pride of the office, looked like it had met its match. On top of that we had a (our own) high ranking official declare that it was the largest room we had (so not true) – Embarrassment 1 & 2 (the official was the first embarrassment!).
The next session brought out the humiliation factor. There I was sitting in a group of editorial and marketing ‘experts’ with an Aussie ‘sheila’ telling us how to use a mouse! My ‘geek’ pride got kicked in the you-know-where. I felt like I was being dragged through 3rd grade. The level of tutoring might have been painfully stupid but the product was, by all means, useful. It made our current system look like the caveman’s tally. Suddenly sheila’s laptop cable got disconnected and the room suddenly became a hive of activity with every single guy giving her a view on how to put the damn thing back together…truly amazing considering that these would be the last people to normally help you around the office. They were vying for the bonus of getting a front row view of what her skimpy top was trying (in vain) to hide. Aside: You should have just seen the faces of the other women go…this shiela literally pulled the ground from under them! Interestingly, the office boys had a competition about who would serve her the most cups of tea in a day.
Throughout these sessions, apart from getting an overview of the system, I also got a fairly good view of our attitude towards whites and also towards change. We are still shit-scared of both. With the whites the issue is more than skin-deep. I have often mentioned it in my discussions. With change, it’s the who-moved-my-cheese syndrome…if you can call it a syndrome. The whites are considerably staunch in their belief that we Indians are scared of them. We augment that by not speaking up when we are supposed to and also by speaking out when we should have held our peace. Discretion is the better part of valour. Indiscretion leads to disgrace. I was observing the look in the eyes of some of my colleagues. Man! There was a slinky desire to please…the only missing formality, as I see it was raising an arm, standing up, lowering the gaze, and addressing the dude as ‘Sir’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating disrespect. I am the first to give respect…as long as drooling is not part of it.
The general sessions came and went…as and when the top officials felt like having an audience. Finally, lots of cancelled sessions and successful lunches later I was ‘invited’ for a ‘discussion’ with the ‘elite’ group. The group consisted of an expert from our Aussie office (not the showstopper please…although even this lady had her personal fan following), a programmer, my boss and several other people. They discussed, they decided and I clapped…case closed.
Okay jokes apart, the system turned out to be excellent for our work. It had several modules for the successful functioning of a publishing company. Everything was covered from the publishing process itself to finance and inventory. However, there were still modules that they had to activate without which the remaining modules only increased our workload. All in all, I was pretty happy with the implementation (as if anyone cared). My boss worked very hard for it (as the editorial expert) and she deserved kudos for it.
Such work on an international scale deserved dinner and dinner it was. It was probably the single-most boring dinner I had ever been to. It was a steamy evening made worse by itsy-bitsy showers. I was the only guy from the Indian editorial team. As if this were not enough, the Englishmen sat together, the Aussies sat together, the Chinese sat together while the Indians sat scattered. Among the Indians, the bigwigs sat together leaving us small fry to linger around like unwanted kids. Some of our senior and most respected officials were playing the role of the court jesters to entertain a group of foreign women. I was just wondering where all this would lead to. Anyway, I chose a hitherto unoccupied table and was immediately joined by another Indian colleague who was in the same predicament as I – To leave or not to leave.
Soon an Aussie, who was an exception to the rule of groupism, joined us. He did not mind having his dinner with a ‘brownie’. However, ‘elite’ company did not come cheap…I had to ‘actively’ listen to his graphic description of kangaroo meat processing in Sydney. By the time he got to saying, “On Delhi roads I would normally have to drive my car up another’s arse” I was at the end of my patience. I was just hoping that the dinner in itself would be sumptuous. I could not have been more off the mark though. The food was almost entirely made for the effeminate taste buds of the goras. The word ‘spice’ needed to be thoroughly redefined to the cook. I finally settled for some dinner-rolls with Hawaiian Chicken salad and some ice cream. It was positively the worst corporate dinner that I had ever attended.
Finally, the good-byes were said and the visitors returned to their countries after having ‘gifted’ us with an automated system. Although the automated system promised to make our work easier and more standardized, it also signaled change. It demanded that space be made for paradigm shifts in our work policy and this, it seemed to me, was not acceptable to several of us. However, the truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to resist change the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant changes also begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of changing.
They say that the Gods must be crazy…yeah, looking at what I had to undergo in the initial session, I’m sure that that’s pretty much the same for the rest of us!
The schedule-overview session saw a remarkable happening – over 50 well dressed ladies and gentlemen getting stuffed (now don’t get the wrong idea!) into a 12 ft X 30 ft conference room. For the first time the poor room, once the pride of the office, looked like it had met its match. On top of that we had a (our own) high ranking official declare that it was the largest room we had (so not true) – Embarrassment 1 & 2 (the official was the first embarrassment!).
The next session brought out the humiliation factor. There I was sitting in a group of editorial and marketing ‘experts’ with an Aussie ‘sheila’ telling us how to use a mouse! My ‘geek’ pride got kicked in the you-know-where. I felt like I was being dragged through 3rd grade. The level of tutoring might have been painfully stupid but the product was, by all means, useful. It made our current system look like the caveman’s tally. Suddenly sheila’s laptop cable got disconnected and the room suddenly became a hive of activity with every single guy giving her a view on how to put the damn thing back together…truly amazing considering that these would be the last people to normally help you around the office. They were vying for the bonus of getting a front row view of what her skimpy top was trying (in vain) to hide. Aside: You should have just seen the faces of the other women go…this shiela literally pulled the ground from under them! Interestingly, the office boys had a competition about who would serve her the most cups of tea in a day.
Throughout these sessions, apart from getting an overview of the system, I also got a fairly good view of our attitude towards whites and also towards change. We are still shit-scared of both. With the whites the issue is more than skin-deep. I have often mentioned it in my discussions. With change, it’s the who-moved-my-cheese syndrome…if you can call it a syndrome. The whites are considerably staunch in their belief that we Indians are scared of them. We augment that by not speaking up when we are supposed to and also by speaking out when we should have held our peace. Discretion is the better part of valour. Indiscretion leads to disgrace. I was observing the look in the eyes of some of my colleagues. Man! There was a slinky desire to please…the only missing formality, as I see it was raising an arm, standing up, lowering the gaze, and addressing the dude as ‘Sir’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating disrespect. I am the first to give respect…as long as drooling is not part of it.
The general sessions came and went…as and when the top officials felt like having an audience. Finally, lots of cancelled sessions and successful lunches later I was ‘invited’ for a ‘discussion’ with the ‘elite’ group. The group consisted of an expert from our Aussie office (not the showstopper please…although even this lady had her personal fan following), a programmer, my boss and several other people. They discussed, they decided and I clapped…case closed.
Okay jokes apart, the system turned out to be excellent for our work. It had several modules for the successful functioning of a publishing company. Everything was covered from the publishing process itself to finance and inventory. However, there were still modules that they had to activate without which the remaining modules only increased our workload. All in all, I was pretty happy with the implementation (as if anyone cared). My boss worked very hard for it (as the editorial expert) and she deserved kudos for it.
Such work on an international scale deserved dinner and dinner it was. It was probably the single-most boring dinner I had ever been to. It was a steamy evening made worse by itsy-bitsy showers. I was the only guy from the Indian editorial team. As if this were not enough, the Englishmen sat together, the Aussies sat together, the Chinese sat together while the Indians sat scattered. Among the Indians, the bigwigs sat together leaving us small fry to linger around like unwanted kids. Some of our senior and most respected officials were playing the role of the court jesters to entertain a group of foreign women. I was just wondering where all this would lead to. Anyway, I chose a hitherto unoccupied table and was immediately joined by another Indian colleague who was in the same predicament as I – To leave or not to leave.
Soon an Aussie, who was an exception to the rule of groupism, joined us. He did not mind having his dinner with a ‘brownie’. However, ‘elite’ company did not come cheap…I had to ‘actively’ listen to his graphic description of kangaroo meat processing in Sydney. By the time he got to saying, “On Delhi roads I would normally have to drive my car up another’s arse” I was at the end of my patience. I was just hoping that the dinner in itself would be sumptuous. I could not have been more off the mark though. The food was almost entirely made for the effeminate taste buds of the goras. The word ‘spice’ needed to be thoroughly redefined to the cook. I finally settled for some dinner-rolls with Hawaiian Chicken salad and some ice cream. It was positively the worst corporate dinner that I had ever attended.
Finally, the good-byes were said and the visitors returned to their countries after having ‘gifted’ us with an automated system. Although the automated system promised to make our work easier and more standardized, it also signaled change. It demanded that space be made for paradigm shifts in our work policy and this, it seemed to me, was not acceptable to several of us. However, the truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to resist change the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant changes also begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of changing.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Power of Saying 'No'
The world today moves at a truly mind boggling pace. Gone are the days when 8 hours of work earned us a peaceful rest with our families. Our lives, as we know it, are governed by our irrepressible urge to please and please further. It is in this quest that we have given up the freedom of doubting, the willingness to forgive a mistake, the possibility of searching and experimenting and most of all the choice of saying NO to any authority --literary, artistic, philosophic, religious, social and even political.
This apparently mighty word is getting rarer by the day. NO, the word in its true essence is now an embarrassment to most of us. It does not matter how much we are pushed around, we never say NO. The reason for that is very simple – our education and tutorials.
We are taught to say NO to strangers, NO to objects that don’t belong to you, NO to drugs and NO to premarital sex among other things. Excellent…but nobody taught us to say NO to being pushed around, NO to doing work that is not ours. No…when it comes to work, never say NO. Work is Worship…Other’s work is also worshipped. Come to think of it, even we would not like anyone to say NO to sharing our work! There is but a thin line between enthused work and coercive labour. That line, I suspect is often been crossed all around the world.
Picture this for a start – Zach is a dude in the toilet paper industry. Neck deep in scheduled work, Zach goes all out to do a job that was not his own but was expected from him. He, along with 5 teammates had to bail out their unit and their proprietor from public shame and dire consequences. 7 days on the job that was menial to say the least, (large amounts of lousy data entries) they are finally asked to take it upon themselves to provide the finishing touches to the assignment. Behold their agony when they have to work very late into the night to complete it to save their unit’s behind. They do the work, albeit screaming like madmen (nobody else was around to listen to madmen…except toilet paper)…even miss their dinner for the sake of the job and deliver it on time. You know what they get for all this team spirit, effort, passion and pain – That’s a five letter word that I would not say in public.
Yeah you heard me right…nobody cared once the objective was achieved. The time, the effort…everything was forgotten in a second. What remained behind was a backlog of toilet paper suppliers, tired sinews and an implosive anger. They were rubbed the wrong way…with zero degree sandpaper.
Whom would you blame for what happened and the after effects?
After a lot of thought, my take would be that it was the fault of the guys who agreed to doing work that was not theirs. This dude Zach, he just never learned to say NO. I’m not talking about an aggressive NO…nothing like our Bollywood stars vigourously shaking their heads, snapping their fingers and saying, “na thakur na!” I am talking about an assertive NO. Something like, “No, I’m afraid I can’t sit late tonight and complete this task. I need to catch up on some important mails.” Instead Zach’s reply to the coercion was, “Definitely, it will be ready by tomorrow morning.”
Learn from a 2-year-old. Ask him to do things that he ‘thinks’ is not worth his while and you will get a sharp NO. You can do all you want but he would not take the hint. If the kid can do it, why then are there billions of adults who can’t? The reason is very simple – We, the educated adults have learnt the pinch of a long word ‘consequence’. It teaches us that we have the duty to be right and also snatches away the freedom of being wrong. This realization puts us in chains and liquidates everything our forefathers shed their blood for.
Apparently Zach is the product of the system and a hopeless case…nothing different can be expected from him. However, you, who are reading this can change and right the wrongs. You can stand up and use the 2 lettered word that was once the power of an enslaved nation. Remember that no one can make you accept anything without your consent. As the great Galileo once said, “I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.”
This apparently mighty word is getting rarer by the day. NO, the word in its true essence is now an embarrassment to most of us. It does not matter how much we are pushed around, we never say NO. The reason for that is very simple – our education and tutorials.
We are taught to say NO to strangers, NO to objects that don’t belong to you, NO to drugs and NO to premarital sex among other things. Excellent…but nobody taught us to say NO to being pushed around, NO to doing work that is not ours. No…when it comes to work, never say NO. Work is Worship…Other’s work is also worshipped. Come to think of it, even we would not like anyone to say NO to sharing our work! There is but a thin line between enthused work and coercive labour. That line, I suspect is often been crossed all around the world.
Picture this for a start – Zach is a dude in the toilet paper industry. Neck deep in scheduled work, Zach goes all out to do a job that was not his own but was expected from him. He, along with 5 teammates had to bail out their unit and their proprietor from public shame and dire consequences. 7 days on the job that was menial to say the least, (large amounts of lousy data entries) they are finally asked to take it upon themselves to provide the finishing touches to the assignment. Behold their agony when they have to work very late into the night to complete it to save their unit’s behind. They do the work, albeit screaming like madmen (nobody else was around to listen to madmen…except toilet paper)…even miss their dinner for the sake of the job and deliver it on time. You know what they get for all this team spirit, effort, passion and pain – That’s a five letter word that I would not say in public.
Yeah you heard me right…nobody cared once the objective was achieved. The time, the effort…everything was forgotten in a second. What remained behind was a backlog of toilet paper suppliers, tired sinews and an implosive anger. They were rubbed the wrong way…with zero degree sandpaper.
Whom would you blame for what happened and the after effects?
After a lot of thought, my take would be that it was the fault of the guys who agreed to doing work that was not theirs. This dude Zach, he just never learned to say NO. I’m not talking about an aggressive NO…nothing like our Bollywood stars vigourously shaking their heads, snapping their fingers and saying, “na thakur na!” I am talking about an assertive NO. Something like, “No, I’m afraid I can’t sit late tonight and complete this task. I need to catch up on some important mails.” Instead Zach’s reply to the coercion was, “Definitely, it will be ready by tomorrow morning.”
Learn from a 2-year-old. Ask him to do things that he ‘thinks’ is not worth his while and you will get a sharp NO. You can do all you want but he would not take the hint. If the kid can do it, why then are there billions of adults who can’t? The reason is very simple – We, the educated adults have learnt the pinch of a long word ‘consequence’. It teaches us that we have the duty to be right and also snatches away the freedom of being wrong. This realization puts us in chains and liquidates everything our forefathers shed their blood for.
Apparently Zach is the product of the system and a hopeless case…nothing different can be expected from him. However, you, who are reading this can change and right the wrongs. You can stand up and use the 2 lettered word that was once the power of an enslaved nation. Remember that no one can make you accept anything without your consent. As the great Galileo once said, “I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.”
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Of Franchise & Follies - The Salad Issue
I was led into a very thought-provoking issue by one of the few men who inspire me and for whom I have genuine respect - My elder brother Shayne John. He told me, "If you don't think much of a person's integrity or ability, criticize that - propaganda that attacks a person is absolutely scurrilous and shows how low public debate in India has fallen." He was referring to a forward that supposedly discussed the private life of some very famous people.
I do not normally investigate the private lives of people. However, just for the sake of a good debate, I wrote about why normal rules of decency don’t apply in India…Imagine a public debate between 2 Prime Ministerial candidates in India.
[Jacob]
Blinded by the glare of the propriety of Democracy we fail to notice that 'exercise of franchise' devoid of a specific social-structure background means nothing...at least in India. In a country like India, an educated person would be part of a minority. A 'reasonable' and educated person would be part of an exceedingly small minority. Frankly, in our scheme of things, criticism of integrity would not be worth much...it sounds good...better on television as a discussion between a couple of JNU professors...In truth, nobody buys it...and even if they do, it does not change ground realities.
Like the East India Company of the late 1700s (after 1757) and the great West Indian sides of the 1980s, fear is the key for the continuing breed of power vendors - they distribute it like cheap lager, through the brooding gunslinging certainty that their 'bhais' and 'sadhus' bring to every tight display of 'franchise'. Even today, as I am writing this, the only terror in our minds is that of an encounter with these menaces. More than 50 years after our 'assumption' of 'self-rule', we have not been able to successfully exorcise the ghost of feudal submission, albeit in the backdrop of the 21st century. 60% of the country may have cell phones but it has not changed the basic equations that govern their political psyche. Swaraj started out in 1947. It failed much before that. 'Swaraj' was demonstrated by a headstrong Mr. M.K. Gandhi as 'my rule'. His shameful treatment of popular politicians and open bias for Nehru makes for good reading material.
The situation is made dicier by the knowledge that an election involves choice of the lesser evil. We are not making much progress in the light of the 'politics-is-the-last-refuge-of-the-scoundrel' proverb. Honest people do not wish to get embroiled in politics... the few who do get annihilated (take Mr. A. K. Antony for instance). In the face of such a situation, people - educated or not - tend to flock together on the basis of community...religious affiliation is the name of the game. The point is not whether Dr. Manmohan Singh's grandfather was a Marthomite or not. The point is that his being Sikh wittingly or unwittingly fits perfectly into the dynamics of the political strategy of the ruling party. If his grandfather were a Marthomite, it would suit his party just as well - The more the merrier (And I very much respect Dr. Singh). In India there is an incongruity in the communal allowances made to Indians - For the common man the option is an 'OR' gate while for the public figure an 'AND' gate is critical. Multiple affiliations signal the ability to prise open multiple vote banks. Is it just co-incidence that the President as well the Prime Minister of the country, appointed by different parties, are part of minority communities? Is it entirely an assumption that Dr. P.C. Alexander was not appointed president because:
a.) He was part of a smaller (vote-bank) minority.
b.) It would be an anomaly if both the President and Prime Minister (Ms. Sonia Gandhi was touted to be P.M. at that time) were of Christian origin?
You are absolutely right about the level of political rhetoric existing in India. However there is nothing anybody can do about it. The truth is that India was Gandhi's gift to Nehru (wittingly or not...I won't debate). The point is that we, as a people, are governed highly by the social stys we are born in. Our 'loyalty' is unerring and as stated by Abraham Maslow's theory we strive for acceptance within our community. That is the reason why we stick by our 'favourite' politician or dynasty or pastor or sitcom. In any other country the religious affiliation of the ruling dynasty is strictly their business but not in India. Unfortunately, for those who look at the world through ‘developed’ eyes, the situation is the same even in the US of A. Conservative Christians grouped together and voted Dubya back into power...and he is probably the least popular leader in the whole wide world! This is a perfect example for my earlier points - criticizing lack of certain traits in your local politician might not do the trick anymore. Criticism does not ever inhibit scoundrels. They act in spite of it and it gradually yields to them.
I do not normally investigate the private lives of people. However, just for the sake of a good debate, I wrote about why normal rules of decency don’t apply in India…Imagine a public debate between 2 Prime Ministerial candidates in India.
[Jacob]
Blinded by the glare of the propriety of Democracy we fail to notice that 'exercise of franchise' devoid of a specific social-structure background means nothing...at least in India. In a country like India, an educated person would be part of a minority. A 'reasonable' and educated person would be part of an exceedingly small minority. Frankly, in our scheme of things, criticism of integrity would not be worth much...it sounds good...better on television as a discussion between a couple of JNU professors...In truth, nobody buys it...and even if they do, it does not change ground realities.
Like the East India Company of the late 1700s (after 1757) and the great West Indian sides of the 1980s, fear is the key for the continuing breed of power vendors - they distribute it like cheap lager, through the brooding gunslinging certainty that their 'bhais' and 'sadhus' bring to every tight display of 'franchise'. Even today, as I am writing this, the only terror in our minds is that of an encounter with these menaces. More than 50 years after our 'assumption' of 'self-rule', we have not been able to successfully exorcise the ghost of feudal submission, albeit in the backdrop of the 21st century. 60% of the country may have cell phones but it has not changed the basic equations that govern their political psyche. Swaraj started out in 1947. It failed much before that. 'Swaraj' was demonstrated by a headstrong Mr. M.K. Gandhi as 'my rule'. His shameful treatment of popular politicians and open bias for Nehru makes for good reading material.
The situation is made dicier by the knowledge that an election involves choice of the lesser evil. We are not making much progress in the light of the 'politics-is-the-last-refuge-of-the-scoundrel' proverb. Honest people do not wish to get embroiled in politics... the few who do get annihilated (take Mr. A. K. Antony for instance). In the face of such a situation, people - educated or not - tend to flock together on the basis of community...religious affiliation is the name of the game. The point is not whether Dr. Manmohan Singh's grandfather was a Marthomite or not. The point is that his being Sikh wittingly or unwittingly fits perfectly into the dynamics of the political strategy of the ruling party. If his grandfather were a Marthomite, it would suit his party just as well - The more the merrier (And I very much respect Dr. Singh). In India there is an incongruity in the communal allowances made to Indians - For the common man the option is an 'OR' gate while for the public figure an 'AND' gate is critical. Multiple affiliations signal the ability to prise open multiple vote banks. Is it just co-incidence that the President as well the Prime Minister of the country, appointed by different parties, are part of minority communities? Is it entirely an assumption that Dr. P.C. Alexander was not appointed president because:
a.) He was part of a smaller (vote-bank) minority.
b.) It would be an anomaly if both the President and Prime Minister (Ms. Sonia Gandhi was touted to be P.M. at that time) were of Christian origin?
You are absolutely right about the level of political rhetoric existing in India. However there is nothing anybody can do about it. The truth is that India was Gandhi's gift to Nehru (wittingly or not...I won't debate). The point is that we, as a people, are governed highly by the social stys we are born in. Our 'loyalty' is unerring and as stated by Abraham Maslow's theory we strive for acceptance within our community. That is the reason why we stick by our 'favourite' politician or dynasty or pastor or sitcom. In any other country the religious affiliation of the ruling dynasty is strictly their business but not in India. Unfortunately, for those who look at the world through ‘developed’ eyes, the situation is the same even in the US of A. Conservative Christians grouped together and voted Dubya back into power...and he is probably the least popular leader in the whole wide world! This is a perfect example for my earlier points - criticizing lack of certain traits in your local politician might not do the trick anymore. Criticism does not ever inhibit scoundrels. They act in spite of it and it gradually yields to them.
Monday, June 20, 2005
The State of Reason
Chirping birds in the warm sunshine
A comfortable seat…without the incline
Testy waters flowing at breakneck speed
This is where I do my deed
The work involves constructing away
From a platform with a continuous sway
Ridiculous plans without foundation
Like a decree with a regional ration
As if the deed were not stress already
Others can hardly remain steady
What do we do if one of us does fall?
What do I know? It’s not my call
Feel it stab…feel it sting
Just one of ‘us’ doing his thing
Deep inside you start to wonder
Will my ‘own’ rip me asunder?
This is my state of reason
Catalyzed by the act of treason
Aided by bovine apathy
Guided by age-old pithy
Asks the alchemist at that moment
How long will you bear this torment?
Will you not their inequality decline?
How else will you build your spine?
Then does my wounded self speak
"Do not think me pale and weak
For even in the unsoundest moment of my darkest day
I’m the predator and they are the prey."
A comfortable seat…without the incline
Testy waters flowing at breakneck speed
This is where I do my deed
The work involves constructing away
From a platform with a continuous sway
Ridiculous plans without foundation
Like a decree with a regional ration
As if the deed were not stress already
Others can hardly remain steady
What do we do if one of us does fall?
What do I know? It’s not my call
Feel it stab…feel it sting
Just one of ‘us’ doing his thing
Deep inside you start to wonder
Will my ‘own’ rip me asunder?
This is my state of reason
Catalyzed by the act of treason
Aided by bovine apathy
Guided by age-old pithy
Asks the alchemist at that moment
How long will you bear this torment?
Will you not their inequality decline?
How else will you build your spine?
Then does my wounded self speak
"Do not think me pale and weak
For even in the unsoundest moment of my darkest day
I’m the predator and they are the prey."
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Operation Hope
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not- Anne Bradstreet (1612 - 1672), 'Meditations Divine and Moral,' 1655
sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”
The moment we rolled down the windows of our Qualis, the stench struck at us like a slap on our face. It seemed that this was a treatment meted out to uninvited prying visitors from a different socio-economic culture. Our welcome was not grand, in a matter of speaking. However, it was a reception that mere mortals like us would remember for a lifetime. The dilapidated building looked at us in deep sorrow…beckoning us to lend it some honour in its hour of nakedness. The grounds loyally embracing the old building lay bare silently accepting the human faeces being piled on it. The ‘caged’ hence protected saplings, provided by the New Delhi Municipal Corporation, growing in the midst of the wilderness were keenly telling their story. It was a story in likeness to the lives led by the people in the area. Posh housing colonies set amidst uncivilized impoverished and rejected destitute. If these silent witnesses could speak out they would have narrated a very tragic tale…a tale of a destitute destitute-home.
“There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to- Jane Austen (1775 - 1817), Mansfield Park
expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns
to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find
comfort somewhere.”
Enter Esther. Make no mistake, this pint sized woman is in no way related to Xeres the king of ancient Persia. However like the Esther of old her love for ‘her’ people was more than ‘evident’ from her eyes. Our mutual introduction done, we walked through the front door of the institution. While walking through the door we felt a caressing on our heads. Imagine our horror when we realized that the source of affection was actually a network of naked wires coming out of their meter board! We were then taken around the single storeyed building and shown the different rooms. There was a room for sewing machines where the local womenfolk would stitch bed-sheets. There was a cramped classroom where almost 40 children of varied ages sat and stared at their instructor. There was a room where the teachers assembled. Finally there was a broken down room with a board ‘Centre for Performing Arts’ - This was their toilet. Just taking in the sights any ordinary person could estimate the pathetic environment that the children and women spent their days in.
Our team, after absorbing the initial shock, immediately sprung into action. While Sharda, Ruby and Sandhya held a meeting with the women Avantika, Kavita, Niju, Manoj and I spent our time with the children.
“
There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct or- Niccolo Machiavelli (1469 - 1527)
more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the introduction of a new
order of things.”
The children as expected were extremely shy at first. It seemed that the presence of their instructor inhibited their interaction with us. On our request their instructor left them completely in our hands. A couple of songs and several handfuls of toffees later the children opened up to us. We then got down to knowing their names - Ruby, Isha, Poonam, Mahesh, Rumina, Sarita among others – Children whom fate had dealt a crippling blow, children who with their apparently nameless faces would automatically disappear in the labyrinth of social inequalities. The singing reached its crescendo with ‘I am a soldier’ – their favourite song. A round of story telling followed the singing. I tried to tell them the parable of the ‘Ten Talents’ in the context of rural India. We then distributed pencil boxes and notebooks to the children. The distribution complete, we encouraged the children to break their inhibitions by dancing to the tunes of the latest film tunes. The children danced whole-heartedly along with Niju, Kavita and Avantika. Their enthusiasm was infectious enough to keep us going longer than we had planned.
After a fabulous round of dance, we distributed food packets to the children. Just after this Niju and me spoke to the children about personal hygiene. The children, although they looked like urchins, were aware of the various forms of personal hygiene. This came as a very pleasant surprise to us.
“Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried- George Washington (1732 - 1799)
before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth,
and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to
the appellation.”
Our most enterprising contribution was the provision of seeds of seasonal fruits and vegetables for the purpose of gardening. I had a wonderful time, through an interactive session, giving them a few specific tips on planting these. These seeds were selected on the basis of economic and time-bound viability. They could grow vegetables year-round to feed their families, and any surplus would be a source of income. As an extra measure of enthusiasm, we expressed our desire to revisit them in August – to partake in the fruits of their labour. The success of our maiden venture could be gauged by the fact that the children could identify each of us by our names…or nicknames shall we say.
"Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity."- Sean O'Casey (1880 - 1964)
Our trip was based around the premise that it would not be a one-time affair. On grounds of plain old humanity it is imperative that these people receive our continuous support…much beyond the requirements of a ‘Global Volunteer Day’ programme. From a corporate perspective, it is a social obligation that we must live upto. The difference is in empathizing with these destitute and not sympathizing with them. We must realize that what these women and children are in is a situation. If not solved soon enough, it will become a problem.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Never let the (Wo)Man get you down.
This is probably one the most debatable pieces on my blog. It’s also going to be a very short piece at that. This basically puts the blame of the exploitation of women squarely on the shoulders of the woman.
Most ‘liberated’ women try and speak like Jack Black in School of Rock – “Don’t let the Man get you down”. Standing in the midst of the cackle that surrounds them, they have difficulties deciding on the real perpetrator. Little do they realize that the largest obstacle that stands in the way of their potential being fully realized is feminine. There is a stark difference in the culture, nay, the psyche of the women in the ‘free’ zone and those outside of it.
Last night, while travelling in a cab with a few women of varied ages I noticed an aberration in a ‘free yourself’ movement. One woman was trying to put the brakes on the other girls. She was trying her best to thwart the expression of their thoughts. Now, that is a difficult thought to live with. She was also noticeably behaving like she was stricken by some male chauvinistic disease. What I realized after a few moments of thought was that though the women of the rest of the world (outside the Indian subcontinent and the other arid places) have managed to create an identity outside of their association with men, we Indians are, at best, struggling to get to the half way mark.
The woman finally draws her own lines…That should always be the attitude…achievement in any field is no substitute for mental servitude. Yes, have a heart and your manners around you…even drape the cultural nine-yards around yourself but never…Never let the (Wo)Man get you down!
Most ‘liberated’ women try and speak like Jack Black in School of Rock – “Don’t let the Man get you down”. Standing in the midst of the cackle that surrounds them, they have difficulties deciding on the real perpetrator. Little do they realize that the largest obstacle that stands in the way of their potential being fully realized is feminine. There is a stark difference in the culture, nay, the psyche of the women in the ‘free’ zone and those outside of it.
Last night, while travelling in a cab with a few women of varied ages I noticed an aberration in a ‘free yourself’ movement. One woman was trying to put the brakes on the other girls. She was trying her best to thwart the expression of their thoughts. Now, that is a difficult thought to live with. She was also noticeably behaving like she was stricken by some male chauvinistic disease. What I realized after a few moments of thought was that though the women of the rest of the world (outside the Indian subcontinent and the other arid places) have managed to create an identity outside of their association with men, we Indians are, at best, struggling to get to the half way mark.
The woman finally draws her own lines…That should always be the attitude…achievement in any field is no substitute for mental servitude. Yes, have a heart and your manners around you…even drape the cultural nine-yards around yourself but never…Never let the (Wo)Man get you down!
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Between Battlefields
News: I had to travel to Haryana to meet the chaps who make us loads of dough – not art-of-living-babas dudes…the Profs. Give me time to mention a few facts and I would be done. The glorious past of Kurukshetra, I would not even touch. I may briefly remark that the present Kurukshetra is a pilgrimage center: it’s the place where the war between the righteous brothers and the hundred other brothers took place. Brother versus brother…bloodshed aplenty…bring on Martin Luther King…save our souls!
So, it may seem a little out of colour (pun intended) for me but I had to quit my condo at 6:00 a.m. to reach the railway station in time. The wind almost froze my ‘you-know-what’…in fact I was just happy not to be superman (man of steel with ‘you-know-what’ of steel). The train left the station at half past 7 and virtually whizzed past desolate trees, urinating dogs and half-naked children. On entry, I saw that the train had its own charms (really good-looking I tell you!). I sat in my seating hoping that some beautiful miracle might happen to keep me company for the next 2 hours. Exactly like clockwork along came a gang of – hold your breath – retired military chaps. Apart from the pain of having a beautiful wish crushed under marching orders, I had to deal with the chap sitting adjacent to me. This chap was made of an exceptionally sonorous material. God knows what He used for construction…was it necessary to bring in bronze to add variety to human species?
A minute into the journey, my attention was caught by a little kid (with a Brit. accent) sitting behind me. Junior was having trouble managing his mother who was behaving in a manner most unbecoming of civilized people. Just imagine her cheek – asking him to don a sweater through the journey. Which self-respecting male would wear a sweater? When he saw that she was becoming difficult he said, “But you said that I would have to wear it if I felt cold…you promised and now you want to break it…and that is a very bad thing.” I could see that the kid had a bright future…after all, how many of us can successfully fend off mothers? All this while junior’s little sister was playing hide and seek with me. She would quietly peep from behind my seat and if I turned around, she would slowly fade behind the seat. I played hide-and seek with her till the moment she thought that I was too daft to play with and dumped the idea. (Guys, this is getting serious – even small kids dump me!). Suddenly the broadcast system came alive with the voice of an absent lady declaring that we had reached Panipat. Junior looked out of the window at the platform and said, “I want to go and fill some water!” - How funny is that? Although the kid did not realize it, he had a good sense of humour (Pani is water in Hindi). Panipat was the great battlefield that finally stamped Mughal supremacy over India. It can be considered our very own waterloo (pardon the pun!). It was ironic that one battlefield lead to another that lead to a third – my first battle with the throes of the academic community.
Breakfast was being served – finally. I was just beginning to lose my patience with waiting and (not) playing hide and seek. Now when my tray comes what do I see? - 3 spoons. No fork, no knife and of all people, it happened to me. By this time I was hoping that nothing else goes wrong, this being my first trip. Soon the voice of the absent lady crackled again and it was time to get my rump off the Shatabdi and onto a rickshaw plying on the dusty streets of Kurukshetra.
Kurukshetra was like any typical North Indian village-town hybrid. I was expecting a Basanti to show up with her tanga except that I was on a cycle-rickshaw with a Jay-paji in charge. Even with my sweater and jacket on (I could not fend off my mom…not then, not now!), my you-know-what were in danger of becoming dessert. The short ride to the University campus cleared a lingering doubt – Yes, mule-shit and horse-shit are different. It also gave birth to another doubt – what was the horse thinking?
While these thoughts were lingering in my mind, my trusty Jay-paji had already reached the University campus and was steadily progressing toward the NIT (National Institute of Technology) guesthouse. Upon reaching the guesthouse I entered with a swagger (after all I was an executive with a Multinational and my booking was done by a senior member of the faculty) and called for the manager. On my asking him for a room to put up in, he simply said, “Booking is cancelled sir. Pakistanis have come to stay. Conference no?” I stood there too stunned to say anything reliving the times when guesthouses such as these had boards saying: ‘Dogs and Indians not allowed’. Was I going back to such a time? What would a self-respecting, ration-card (and driving license and voting card and passport) holding Indian like me do in such a circumstance? Would there be bloodshed and hell to pay for igniting the fervour of patriotism in an Indian?
A minute later, after having paid my rickshaw-puller, I was lugging my bag and taking a walk to the Computer and Electronics department in search of shelter. So you think that I ran away from the battlefield? No. I decided to exercise the quality of mercy that is so strained...
The Computer Science department had a dingy looking office with a fat aunty sitting at a terminal and playing solitaire. On my asking the whereabouts of the Profs. (All their rooms were locked) she said, “pata nahin” (means don’t know in Hindi). This coupled with the fact that I was visiting one of the premier seats of Engineering in the country must not give you wrong ideas about the country dudes. Wanting to loosen up a little, after my stiffening journey, I decided to saunter a little and discover a few things by myself. First stop – HOD’s office. The deliberations began after this meeting and continued with other teachers all through the day (I’m leaving out all the sad and boring parts).
It was 5 PM when I took off from the university campus. It was a day spent entirely in the engineering college amidst some really good teachers. The cycle rickshaw was taking its own sweet time and I was not complaining. It was courtesy the rickshaw that I saw the largest tank in Asia – The Brahmsarovar – An amazing piece of work. Evenings in Kurukshetra are a time to behold. The beauty of the rustic township is worth the praises in the Puranas. The hotel I was putting up in, (oh, I forgot to tell you sooner…I managed to find a place to stay!) was probably the only ‘decent’ place to stay in Kurukshetra. After a long and tiring day, I just switched on the television and went to sleep – The pursuit of academic nirvana takes its toll. Hunger woke me up. It was 9 PM already and I quickly freshened up to go for dinner. After reaching the in-house restaurant, I ordered some oriental food that looked promising on the menu card. Two hours had passed and I was still eating…God bless the cook’s khadi socks!
7 AM: I was left at the edge of sudden realization that the entire world was up and I was not. Forty minutes and I was well on my way to the University block. I was chock-full of the good energy that drives mules to work. The unbridled love for all nature’s creations was on the verge of gushing out. Then I met Dr. K.S. Ghouri.
It is amazing to notice how the turnaround time for emotions and their build up is considerably lesser than that for reviewers. There is no questionnaire, no pages of silly paper work and most definitely no protocol on honorarium received. There is but one single outburst and it comes through like a deluge. This dude Ghouri could be the standard test for faculty of juvenile detention homes. If the faculty could handle him…they could handle anything!
Of course, appearances are deceptive. Any editor, for instance, who had been standing outside the front entrance of the Bio-Tech Department at twelve o’clock on a fair Saturday afternoon might easily have made a mistake.
Such an editor would probably have jumped to the conclusion that this was a department with very serious students and teachers. He would have mentally praised the efficiency of the department and put his best foot forward to meet the inmates.
Sherlock Holmes himself might have been misled. One can almost hear him explaining the situation to Watson in one of those lightning flashes of inductive reasoning. “Elementary, my dear Watson! If the students were of a normal ‘university’ temperament, you would have heard the ruckus that heralds their presence. Also, it is a fact that a fair Saturday afternoon is the best time to study bottled up invisible creatures that are a threat to our existence.”
As a matter of fact, only the inmates of the University campus recognized it as a sign of desertion. The entire building was emptied out because a Pakistani delegation was present in their auditorium (are you listening …architects of peace).
As I left the premises of the University (not having anyone else to meet!), I turned around to take a last glimpse of that enormous tribute to learning. Then I resumed my journey toward the railway station.
With four hours to spend at the station, I had my priorities mapped out – Find the First Class Waiting Room, settle down with John Mortimer, tuck into the plantain bought at the station and wait for the Shatabdi to turn up (on time). After a long walk along the only inhabited platform of the station, I decided that the open platform would be preferable to the urinal that they call ‘Waiting Room’. Four chapters, half a dozen plantain and a couple of 40 minute naps later, the train arrived.
The journey back to base was very uneventful. This was predominantly because my eyelids insisted on going on a strike. My vision was slowly getting blurred and gravity was taking its toll on my head (damn Newton!). Dinner aboard the Shatabdi was an equally sleepy affair and for the first time New Delhi station was a heart felt prayer.
It did arrive eventually and I gently stepped away from what was my first professional trip. It definitely gave me enough input to put on my tour report (the remains of which are spilled here) and also enabled me to get the right perspective between two battlefields – where the mind bleeds for want of knowledge and victory is much more than a rarely used word.
So, it may seem a little out of colour (pun intended) for me but I had to quit my condo at 6:00 a.m. to reach the railway station in time. The wind almost froze my ‘you-know-what’…in fact I was just happy not to be superman (man of steel with ‘you-know-what’ of steel). The train left the station at half past 7 and virtually whizzed past desolate trees, urinating dogs and half-naked children. On entry, I saw that the train had its own charms (really good-looking I tell you!). I sat in my seating hoping that some beautiful miracle might happen to keep me company for the next 2 hours. Exactly like clockwork along came a gang of – hold your breath – retired military chaps. Apart from the pain of having a beautiful wish crushed under marching orders, I had to deal with the chap sitting adjacent to me. This chap was made of an exceptionally sonorous material. God knows what He used for construction…was it necessary to bring in bronze to add variety to human species?
A minute into the journey, my attention was caught by a little kid (with a Brit. accent) sitting behind me. Junior was having trouble managing his mother who was behaving in a manner most unbecoming of civilized people. Just imagine her cheek – asking him to don a sweater through the journey. Which self-respecting male would wear a sweater? When he saw that she was becoming difficult he said, “But you said that I would have to wear it if I felt cold…you promised and now you want to break it…and that is a very bad thing.” I could see that the kid had a bright future…after all, how many of us can successfully fend off mothers? All this while junior’s little sister was playing hide and seek with me. She would quietly peep from behind my seat and if I turned around, she would slowly fade behind the seat. I played hide-and seek with her till the moment she thought that I was too daft to play with and dumped the idea. (Guys, this is getting serious – even small kids dump me!). Suddenly the broadcast system came alive with the voice of an absent lady declaring that we had reached Panipat. Junior looked out of the window at the platform and said, “I want to go and fill some water!” - How funny is that? Although the kid did not realize it, he had a good sense of humour (Pani is water in Hindi). Panipat was the great battlefield that finally stamped Mughal supremacy over India. It can be considered our very own waterloo (pardon the pun!). It was ironic that one battlefield lead to another that lead to a third – my first battle with the throes of the academic community.
Breakfast was being served – finally. I was just beginning to lose my patience with waiting and (not) playing hide and seek. Now when my tray comes what do I see? - 3 spoons. No fork, no knife and of all people, it happened to me. By this time I was hoping that nothing else goes wrong, this being my first trip. Soon the voice of the absent lady crackled again and it was time to get my rump off the Shatabdi and onto a rickshaw plying on the dusty streets of Kurukshetra.
Kurukshetra was like any typical North Indian village-town hybrid. I was expecting a Basanti to show up with her tanga except that I was on a cycle-rickshaw with a Jay-paji in charge. Even with my sweater and jacket on (I could not fend off my mom…not then, not now!), my you-know-what were in danger of becoming dessert. The short ride to the University campus cleared a lingering doubt – Yes, mule-shit and horse-shit are different. It also gave birth to another doubt – what was the horse thinking?
While these thoughts were lingering in my mind, my trusty Jay-paji had already reached the University campus and was steadily progressing toward the NIT (National Institute of Technology) guesthouse. Upon reaching the guesthouse I entered with a swagger (after all I was an executive with a Multinational and my booking was done by a senior member of the faculty) and called for the manager. On my asking him for a room to put up in, he simply said, “Booking is cancelled sir. Pakistanis have come to stay. Conference no?” I stood there too stunned to say anything reliving the times when guesthouses such as these had boards saying: ‘Dogs and Indians not allowed’. Was I going back to such a time? What would a self-respecting, ration-card (and driving license and voting card and passport) holding Indian like me do in such a circumstance? Would there be bloodshed and hell to pay for igniting the fervour of patriotism in an Indian?
A minute later, after having paid my rickshaw-puller, I was lugging my bag and taking a walk to the Computer and Electronics department in search of shelter. So you think that I ran away from the battlefield? No. I decided to exercise the quality of mercy that is so strained...
The Computer Science department had a dingy looking office with a fat aunty sitting at a terminal and playing solitaire. On my asking the whereabouts of the Profs. (All their rooms were locked) she said, “pata nahin” (means don’t know in Hindi). This coupled with the fact that I was visiting one of the premier seats of Engineering in the country must not give you wrong ideas about the country dudes. Wanting to loosen up a little, after my stiffening journey, I decided to saunter a little and discover a few things by myself. First stop – HOD’s office. The deliberations began after this meeting and continued with other teachers all through the day (I’m leaving out all the sad and boring parts).
It was 5 PM when I took off from the university campus. It was a day spent entirely in the engineering college amidst some really good teachers. The cycle rickshaw was taking its own sweet time and I was not complaining. It was courtesy the rickshaw that I saw the largest tank in Asia – The Brahmsarovar – An amazing piece of work. Evenings in Kurukshetra are a time to behold. The beauty of the rustic township is worth the praises in the Puranas. The hotel I was putting up in, (oh, I forgot to tell you sooner…I managed to find a place to stay!) was probably the only ‘decent’ place to stay in Kurukshetra. After a long and tiring day, I just switched on the television and went to sleep – The pursuit of academic nirvana takes its toll. Hunger woke me up. It was 9 PM already and I quickly freshened up to go for dinner. After reaching the in-house restaurant, I ordered some oriental food that looked promising on the menu card. Two hours had passed and I was still eating…God bless the cook’s khadi socks!
7 AM: I was left at the edge of sudden realization that the entire world was up and I was not. Forty minutes and I was well on my way to the University block. I was chock-full of the good energy that drives mules to work. The unbridled love for all nature’s creations was on the verge of gushing out. Then I met Dr. K.S. Ghouri.
It is amazing to notice how the turnaround time for emotions and their build up is considerably lesser than that for reviewers. There is no questionnaire, no pages of silly paper work and most definitely no protocol on honorarium received. There is but one single outburst and it comes through like a deluge. This dude Ghouri could be the standard test for faculty of juvenile detention homes. If the faculty could handle him…they could handle anything!
Of course, appearances are deceptive. Any editor, for instance, who had been standing outside the front entrance of the Bio-Tech Department at twelve o’clock on a fair Saturday afternoon might easily have made a mistake.
Such an editor would probably have jumped to the conclusion that this was a department with very serious students and teachers. He would have mentally praised the efficiency of the department and put his best foot forward to meet the inmates.
Sherlock Holmes himself might have been misled. One can almost hear him explaining the situation to Watson in one of those lightning flashes of inductive reasoning. “Elementary, my dear Watson! If the students were of a normal ‘university’ temperament, you would have heard the ruckus that heralds their presence. Also, it is a fact that a fair Saturday afternoon is the best time to study bottled up invisible creatures that are a threat to our existence.”
As a matter of fact, only the inmates of the University campus recognized it as a sign of desertion. The entire building was emptied out because a Pakistani delegation was present in their auditorium (are you listening …architects of peace).
As I left the premises of the University (not having anyone else to meet!), I turned around to take a last glimpse of that enormous tribute to learning. Then I resumed my journey toward the railway station.
With four hours to spend at the station, I had my priorities mapped out – Find the First Class Waiting Room, settle down with John Mortimer, tuck into the plantain bought at the station and wait for the Shatabdi to turn up (on time). After a long walk along the only inhabited platform of the station, I decided that the open platform would be preferable to the urinal that they call ‘Waiting Room’. Four chapters, half a dozen plantain and a couple of 40 minute naps later, the train arrived.
The journey back to base was very uneventful. This was predominantly because my eyelids insisted on going on a strike. My vision was slowly getting blurred and gravity was taking its toll on my head (damn Newton!). Dinner aboard the Shatabdi was an equally sleepy affair and for the first time New Delhi station was a heart felt prayer.
It did arrive eventually and I gently stepped away from what was my first professional trip. It definitely gave me enough input to put on my tour report (the remains of which are spilled here) and also enabled me to get the right perspective between two battlefields – where the mind bleeds for want of knowledge and victory is much more than a rarely used word.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Materialism
They say, “Most people seek after what they do not possess and are thus enslaved by the very things they want to acquire”. It’s true. The years spent in college were truly idealistic with no thought lent to the murky path to be taken in future. The muck on this path is too much to describe in a single write up but the aspect that I am about to discuss is one that slowly catches up and refuses to let go - Materialism.
Materialism goes beyond definitions because it, in most cases, defines various parameters of lifestyle. Very few people can resist the radiating charms of materialism. It has the characteristic property of ruining a life while making the person in question squeal in delight at the thought of his/her latest acquisition. The birth of materialism in a person takes place when ‘wants’ become ‘needs’. For example, cell phones were a want in the era when the land phones were going strong. Today, probably a cell phone with PDA features has turned into an acquired ‘need’. People cite a lot of reasons for this metamorphosis. Some say that economic stability triggers it. Some others indict malefic social rat races. Agreed. However, these are environmental reasons and are easy to pinpoint (but not change). What I am after is the thought process that goes behind such a phenomenon and the potential solutions for it.
I always believed that eternal material comfort was a fallacy and that I would not fall prey to it even through my corporate lifestyle. I am yet to find out the shape my job is going to give me but the materialism factor can already be sensed as a side effect. Everything that exists is material-centric. Even a baby cries because he needs something material. Any fool understands the pinch of material lust but the mind presents the problem in at least two ways. The first is conscious thought, as felt in the aftermath of any enlightening experience. The second is the purpose of any thought and that is about something being beyond itself.
As I see it, there are three ways of tackling this raging quicksand of a problem. We can follow 'ease' as a dictating parameter in their gradation. The hardest method is eliminating feelings, emotions and every other mental state - in short be a machine. Everything that has to do with human feelings and wants need to be eliminated and be treated as redundant junk. A certain number of ‘acceptable’ finite states should govern our actions. In my case that would be declaring to myself that I was created to work and any other event would lead to a malfunction of my intended purpose. There has to belief that the purpose of existence is much bigger than the modus vivendi.
The next method is a little less harsh - We need to reduce these thought processes leading to materialism and boil them down to certain thoughts that start a train of other materialistic demands. We must however consider that these are not ‘demands’ per se but needs to avoid professional failure. Taking my case again, I could bring it down to the basics of feeding, clothing and housing myself. This method, though more humane, is far more difficult to put into practice than the previous method. The difficulty here lies in identifying the base needs and the derived wants/needs.
For the least resolute, the only way out is to accept science and the anabolic nature of the mind nevertheless claiming that it depends on the material in such an intimate way...way more intimate than a mere incidental connection and having a great natural dependence. This part means that you can fag your force away, soak your soul in ale, redefine the intensity of an orgy and generally have a blast 'cause whadda ya know - you're the new material man.
Materialism goes beyond definitions because it, in most cases, defines various parameters of lifestyle. Very few people can resist the radiating charms of materialism. It has the characteristic property of ruining a life while making the person in question squeal in delight at the thought of his/her latest acquisition. The birth of materialism in a person takes place when ‘wants’ become ‘needs’. For example, cell phones were a want in the era when the land phones were going strong. Today, probably a cell phone with PDA features has turned into an acquired ‘need’. People cite a lot of reasons for this metamorphosis. Some say that economic stability triggers it. Some others indict malefic social rat races. Agreed. However, these are environmental reasons and are easy to pinpoint (but not change). What I am after is the thought process that goes behind such a phenomenon and the potential solutions for it.
I always believed that eternal material comfort was a fallacy and that I would not fall prey to it even through my corporate lifestyle. I am yet to find out the shape my job is going to give me but the materialism factor can already be sensed as a side effect. Everything that exists is material-centric. Even a baby cries because he needs something material. Any fool understands the pinch of material lust but the mind presents the problem in at least two ways. The first is conscious thought, as felt in the aftermath of any enlightening experience. The second is the purpose of any thought and that is about something being beyond itself.
As I see it, there are three ways of tackling this raging quicksand of a problem. We can follow 'ease' as a dictating parameter in their gradation. The hardest method is eliminating feelings, emotions and every other mental state - in short be a machine. Everything that has to do with human feelings and wants need to be eliminated and be treated as redundant junk. A certain number of ‘acceptable’ finite states should govern our actions. In my case that would be declaring to myself that I was created to work and any other event would lead to a malfunction of my intended purpose. There has to belief that the purpose of existence is much bigger than the modus vivendi.
The next method is a little less harsh - We need to reduce these thought processes leading to materialism and boil them down to certain thoughts that start a train of other materialistic demands. We must however consider that these are not ‘demands’ per se but needs to avoid professional failure. Taking my case again, I could bring it down to the basics of feeding, clothing and housing myself. This method, though more humane, is far more difficult to put into practice than the previous method. The difficulty here lies in identifying the base needs and the derived wants/needs.
For the least resolute, the only way out is to accept science and the anabolic nature of the mind nevertheless claiming that it depends on the material in such an intimate way...way more intimate than a mere incidental connection and having a great natural dependence. This part means that you can fag your force away, soak your soul in ale, redefine the intensity of an orgy and generally have a blast 'cause whadda ya know - you're the new material man.
Monday, January 24, 2005
National Pride or What You Will
Recently there has been a lot of talk over NRIs, national pride and Swades…not necessarily in that order. In the same context I came across an NRI lad. He was cribbing over the shame he has to undergo because of his nationality. Although he wrote about how ashamed we (not he) must be and also how smart English education has made him, there was one point that the lad got right - We must be ashamed of ourselves. We have enough reason to sit in our homes, turn off the lights and never speak a word about prestige in front of other people. In fact, we go all the way in actually propagating racism by behaving like racially inferior people.
Don't believe me? How else can you describe a person who constantly banters about his neighbour's religion? How else can you describe a person who is scared of becoming unclean by touching a 'harijan'? How else can you describe a person who runs a scam in cattle fodder? If we take toll of the tendency to 'crawl' as against that to stand up, Indians will definitely feature on top.
I say, look at Germany and Japan...you may say - look at our population. My question is - Whose fault is it? If we don't realize that we cannot feed and educate 4 children, how can we produce them? The truth is that as a society, we are laid back and not proactive in the direction of progress. This however does not have anything to do with our cultural quotient - There are still places in rural India where the guest is fed first even if the rest of the family is starving!
Coming back to being an immigrant, that in itself is a slur - something to be ashamed of. It just means that our country was not 'big' enough to hold our dreams or that our dreams excluded our country. Both situations are nothing to be proud of. No Indian-American can say that he is being treated the same way as a 'white' American. As always, media and Hollywood movies propagate that load of bull. Chaitanya a.k.a. Chet (the NRI) probably never noticed that even in their movies, the black dude dies first - is 'wasted'. Equality in death I presume!
There is nothing to be proud as long as we have naked children die of the cold on the streets and as long as people die of hunger. Pride of our forefathers, albeit in poverty can be restored by character. Only when one Indian treats another as an Indian instead of as a Muslim, Hindu, Bengali, Malayalee or transvestite can India truly be restored to global greatness. Currently we are not helping by our bickering. However, no Indian living outside India has the moral right to crib about the pride of being an Indian. For him/her the greatest shame was that of deserting his/her motherland. No amount of slime balling can correct that.
To my mind there come two pertinent points that should be understood (in terms of Indians and their pride). These primarily pertain to the role of these people in the awakening of a New India.
1. Indians who left India and are living outside - everyone has heard about it criticized - we trained our citizens with public money, invested in them, and they left us to benefit foreign lands. All true. However, these are the very same people who, on receipt of the right signals from us, are the biggest promoters of Indian industries abroad. Result - the growth in FDIs and forex reserve activity. Just like the Chinese diaspora was the biggest investor in China when the Chinese govt. became proactive and open about Foreign Investment. These people are the ones who affect the perception of your country abroad.
2. People who choose to stay in India - these people have and will always have a far larger role to play in the cleaning act and nation building. You and me belong to this category. Stand up and be counted when it matters.
Neither of us can deny the problems that came back like the Hydra, driving away our best minds in search of ‘opportunity’. We need to accept the facts as they stand and try and build a fabulous future for our country. We can never change history, let us at least not turn our backs to creating it.
Don't believe me? How else can you describe a person who constantly banters about his neighbour's religion? How else can you describe a person who is scared of becoming unclean by touching a 'harijan'? How else can you describe a person who runs a scam in cattle fodder? If we take toll of the tendency to 'crawl' as against that to stand up, Indians will definitely feature on top.
I say, look at Germany and Japan...you may say - look at our population. My question is - Whose fault is it? If we don't realize that we cannot feed and educate 4 children, how can we produce them? The truth is that as a society, we are laid back and not proactive in the direction of progress. This however does not have anything to do with our cultural quotient - There are still places in rural India where the guest is fed first even if the rest of the family is starving!
Coming back to being an immigrant, that in itself is a slur - something to be ashamed of. It just means that our country was not 'big' enough to hold our dreams or that our dreams excluded our country. Both situations are nothing to be proud of. No Indian-American can say that he is being treated the same way as a 'white' American. As always, media and Hollywood movies propagate that load of bull. Chaitanya a.k.a. Chet (the NRI) probably never noticed that even in their movies, the black dude dies first - is 'wasted'. Equality in death I presume!
There is nothing to be proud as long as we have naked children die of the cold on the streets and as long as people die of hunger. Pride of our forefathers, albeit in poverty can be restored by character. Only when one Indian treats another as an Indian instead of as a Muslim, Hindu, Bengali, Malayalee or transvestite can India truly be restored to global greatness. Currently we are not helping by our bickering. However, no Indian living outside India has the moral right to crib about the pride of being an Indian. For him/her the greatest shame was that of deserting his/her motherland. No amount of slime balling can correct that.
To my mind there come two pertinent points that should be understood (in terms of Indians and their pride). These primarily pertain to the role of these people in the awakening of a New India.
1. Indians who left India and are living outside - everyone has heard about it criticized - we trained our citizens with public money, invested in them, and they left us to benefit foreign lands. All true. However, these are the very same people who, on receipt of the right signals from us, are the biggest promoters of Indian industries abroad. Result - the growth in FDIs and forex reserve activity. Just like the Chinese diaspora was the biggest investor in China when the Chinese govt. became proactive and open about Foreign Investment. These people are the ones who affect the perception of your country abroad.
2. People who choose to stay in India - these people have and will always have a far larger role to play in the cleaning act and nation building. You and me belong to this category. Stand up and be counted when it matters.
Neither of us can deny the problems that came back like the Hydra, driving away our best minds in search of ‘opportunity’. We need to accept the facts as they stand and try and build a fabulous future for our country. We can never change history, let us at least not turn our backs to creating it.
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