I wonder...therefore I blog

Gurur Devo Namah!

2011-03-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

Beads of sweat trickled down my face as I waited in the staff room for the mother of all disciplinarians, English professor Usha Nair. Our class wanted to skip English lessons to watch a Bollywood blockbuster and since I was top student, we voted 59-1 that I was to secure my teacher's approval.

After what seemed like eternity, Prof. Nair appeared. ‘Hi Anjana’, she said, ‘need help with your lessons?’

‘N-n-no’, I stammered. Her mouth tightened as I said the words movie, skip and class. I now had visions of 'detention' written all over my record.

Then a miracle happened. She broke into a smile and asked, “Can you make that 61? I’d like to go too!” In that moment of immense relief, I knew Prof. Nair would be among my favorite teachers.

What made Prof. Nair different was that she saw in each of us great possibilities. Here we were a bunch of clueless teenagers from low-budget families, in search of our life’s mission and fearless in our youth. We worked equally hard at academics and mischief! Rather than label us a bunch of loonies, she took the time to look into our souls and understand the path that each of us was taking.

‘You must write’, she told me one day as I described an accident I witnessed. Before I could tell her I wanted to be an engineer not a writer, she had already asked that I submit a write-up of the accident on her desk next morning.
That write-up was the beginning of several articles and poems. Prof. Nair spent countless hours of her personal time critiquing and refining my essays, stories and poetry. I even wrote a poem about her! When the inter-college arts competition was announced, she declared I was going to be in our writing team.

Food and accommodation arrangements were notoriously dismal at art festivals. As we students shivered in the cold while practicing dance, music and drama (she had identified and groomed most of us), Prof. Nair was there - as our coach. She gave up better food and air conditioned lodging for teachers choosing instead to eat with us and sleep on a narrow wooden bench for the entire week. We will be champions, she repeated with such conviction that all of us wanted to prove her right.

And so we competed with all our might against students from across the state. Prof. Nair was more energized with every prize we won; she kept pushing us further. ‘You’re ready’, she told me. ‘Pray for a moment, then give it your all’.

I did give it my all – bringing in prizes for poetry, essay and story writing. With 21 points, I was set to be declared ‘Sarga Prathibha’ – the best writer of the festival. However, a multi-lingual writer emerged on the last day with 22 points, stealing the title from under my nose.

Prof. Nair was right; we were champions by a huge margin. We lit a celebration bonfire and carried her on our shoulders shouting ‘Our college rules!’ On our ride home, she came up to me and said ‘I know you’re disappointed. View this not as failure but as an indicator of how far you’ve come. Keep writing.’

Fifteen years have passed but memories gatecrashed as I bumped into Prof. Nair last week. ‘The movie I saw with your class was the best ever’ she said patting my cheek. As I touched her feet to seek her blessings, she put her hands on my head and simply said ‘Keep writing’.

Of 'This is It'

2009-11-01T00:21:00.000-07:00

Despite all the media hype, Glasgow's welcome to MJ (or whatever is left of him) has been rather lukewarm.

I've always loved the man's work and have looked forward to watching him onscreen, so when I showed up in Glasgow during the very week of this movie, I had to go see it.

The movie is not a real 'movie' per se, it's just a collection of recordings of MJ's rehearsals for his supposedly-last tour. So, one must know the songs, dances and original videos to appreciate the mammoth efforts that were put in for this tour.

As I watched the man working behind-the-scenes, I was enthused to see the real person behind the personality. Somehow, it was like getting to know what it took to become a legend. The following are my conclusions:

1. Search for the very best professionals: There was a nation-wide hunt for the principal dancers for this tour. The auditions were massively attended, and MJ himself supervised the entire process. The whole idea was to identify those people who had 'the spunk' and 'pushed the boundaries', because that was what MJ was all about. Similarly, the vocalists and the orchestra team were geniuses. Once he selected his team, he spent plenty time and money to make sure they were physically and mentally in great shape.

2. Ability to 'really' involve people in his journey: MJ realised that his staff needed opportunities to showcase their talent. Though the whole show was about him, he needed to get the very best from his team. Hence he tailored the show to ensure that each instrumentalist had atleast one opporunity to shine, and to display hard-core talent. The final product was music quality beyond anyone's imagination.

3. Thoroughness: MJ's music director said in an interview that MJ knew every word, every musical note and every single rhythm of each song he recorded. He was an extremely hands-on guy, and was able to connect with each musician in his/her terms. For example, he would speak out the chords and notes to the guitarist and keyboardist, he would play the beats with his mouth to the drummer. He would sing high and low octaves with the vocalists. A lot of them said on interview that this level of thoroughness made him someone that 'could not be fooled, ever'.

4. Innovation: This one really takes the cake. MJ had re-recorded the videos of Thriller, Smooth Criminal and the Earth Song in 3-D. He even starred in the Smooth Criminal video. The final effect was that when MJ and his team performed on stage, the demons in Thriller (for example), would walk right out of the screen behind and into the audience ! Another interesting element was the use of pyrotechniques for visual impact. Chase scenes were shown using fireworks onstage. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

5. Painstaking attention to detail: This is similar to #3, but not quite. Though MJ knew his craft like the back of his hand, it was important to get every little element of the show in perfect order for his magic to happen. This meant stopping the song several hundred times over, and giving instructions - wait for my cue, fade the music to create a simmering effect, volume control and so on finally saying 'So let's do this one more time'. And this happened over and over and over again. Similar attention was paid to costume, gadgets (like cranes) used during the concert and so on.
and finally,

6. Leadership: In this context, I mean his ability to hold it all together. At any time, several hundred people were asking him questions ranging from trivial to strategic. He took his time with each one, did his homework and answered every question. He motivated the team often by helping them relax, using his oratorial skills to connect with them and letting them know that he valued their contributions. He positioned his role in such a way that others naturally wanted to give their very best to him.

Personally, I found the movie very good value for money. It was like watching the whole O2 show originally priced at £60 , at £4.90. Now that's a bargain.

PS: And I don't believe the 'sensitive' crap that the media comes up with when they talk about MJ. Though he was a humanitarian and has helped a whole lot of children enjoy this beautiful world of ours, he was by no means a silly, feminine, lovelorn person. What I saw on that screen was an astute businessman who was driven, had the talent and the guts to get what he rightly deserved: the title of 'the best entertainer of all time'.

Of Obama and his new toy

2009-10-10T02:59:00.001-07:00

Thx: www.toothpastefordinner.com

Saw on the news yesterday that our man Barry has been selected for a 'surprise' Nobel Peace Prize. Aha.

I've been curious about the world's reaction to this declaration and have been following discussions in cyberworld. News channels are abuzz with so-called experts pouring in their 2 cents in little TV boxes titled 'London' or 'New York', while an Indian journo with a typical desi accent occupies the rest of the TV screen and interrupts them every 2 seconds.

In as much as I admire Barry Boy for what he has achieved in his life, I don't believe it warrants a Nobel Peace Prize. One for literature, maybe (I quite enjoyed his books). I mean, c'mon, who can't see that this move is so intensely political? The powers-that-be who determine these things know what America's handshake of peace and friendship could mean. The 205 people who nominated him for the award are, oh surprise !!! mostly those non-White people who he got into high positions. The Muslim countries of the world now have a benchmark to hold him to: Mr. Barry, act like a Nobel Prize winner !

The Nobel Prize is to be given to outstanding achievement in the area of world peace. This does not include declarations or promises. Yes, there was an iftar in Trichur (a town in Kerala) - and many more in other places - sponsored by the White House, but those are not considered significant contributions to world peace. This is not to say that Barry cannot make a significant contribution - he sure can and is in the most powerful position to do something about violence, provided he has a little more time.

The politics involved in the Nobel committee's decisions has been obvious awhile. Gandhiji was nominated 5 times over a period of 5 years. Here was a man who changed the course of history through his approach towards peace and ahimsa. Even the unforgettable Martin Luther King referred to peace as 'Gandhi's way'. And the best the Nobel Committee could come up with, was to not award anyone the prize in 1948 when Gandhiji was assassinated. Shameful.

This Nobel Prize would have made heaps of sense if it had been given when Obama's contribution had been proven beyond doubt. As it stands, Britney Spears would've made a better recipient.

Of relief and jubilation

2009-10-08T05:49:00.000-07:00

I did it ! I received my MBA degree with flying colours (and a distinction to boot).

Thank you God. Thank you Mother. Thanks to the others in my family who have been instrumental in my education. Thank you (some) classmates who taught me valuable lessons I incorporate in my daily life.

Thank you to all those who've helped me achieve what I have achieved today. My success is to your credit. Any failures along the path are my own.

Of being inspired

2009-09-01T13:01:00.000-07:00

I have made a few friends in the MBA program.

Whilst some have taught me how not to be, some have shone the torch to show me one or two things I must learn and integrate into my own life. Some examples:

X who did not write any exams because 'he wasn't in the mood'.

Y who chose to not graduate because he thought exams were about war and he just didn't have an armour.

S who said she watched movies and porn, shopped, did other interesting stuff and finally managed to 'squeeze in 1 or 2 hours every week to study'.

whilst

A was so methodical he had differently coloured folders for each subject and painfully wrote down every point made by every academic in class.

K was just so nice (and not stupid) that she spent a whole lot of money on others in class with zero expectations of any return in cash or kind.

R was so disciplined he would cycle 7 miles to class daily come hail or highwater (both of which were common in Glasgow) to be in class or at groupwork on time every time. He also studied like crazy in the early hours of the morning after putting his 2 young kids to sleep.

M who was just way too intelligent for this school. There was little this guy hadn't done. He rattled statistics on any subject off his head, scored the highest in class, authored books and tested MS products professionally whilst sponsoring his and his girlfriend's education.

And I wonder....what would they say about me?

Of random musings

2009-08-17T13:13:00.000-07:00

It's great to be back blogging. The hiatus has been long, insightful, introspective and enriching.
Now to put my head down and start to type sense...

Of marriage

2009-01-10T06:07:00.000-08:00

Man to man conversation overheard in class:

Man 1: So you're looking to get married ?! Congratulations man !

Man 2: Thanks dude ! It's about time, don't you think?

Man 1: Of course, of course. But always remember. Don't marry a woman that's very intelligent, social or outgoing. Those ones tend to have minds of their own.

Man 2: (nods in silent agreement)

Jeez!

Of being rich (Vs just being vain)

2008-11-02T16:07:00.000-08:00

toothpastefordinner.com

The class has some rather interesting characters.

This one Indian cannot stop talking about 'my family business worth millions'. By the end of our first day, everyone knew that the person belonged to a rich family of business people (and that very little brain came along with the money). However, this person compensated for the hollow between the ears by buying food and goodies for all those who cared.

We had a lunch-time talk by the entrepreneurial network the other day. During Q&A, this person started off yet again on 'how I come from a business family worth millions'. The speaker was like 'Wait, do you mean in dollars or rupees?' She fumbled a little and said 'rupees but we have significant investment abroad as well'. By then, she had lost her face. Big-time.

MBA students need to do about 50% of their work in groups - this is the so-called studying and bonding time. Classes are held only for 50% of the working week - they are meant to give out assignments and tasks for groupwork. Groups are given designated study rooms within the school with all kinds of gizmos ever conceived by mankind.

A friend of mine is doing his MBA at Harvard. He sent me an email the other day about what happened when he was doing group study. There was this quiet American guy in his group who seemed to get bored and irritable - he desperately needed a change of scene. 'What are we doing here in this room everyday?' he asked, 'let's do an offsite study session tomorrow'. They agreed to meet at a wharf nearby at whatever time the next day.

When they all showed up, the guy was waiting there in his private yacht. He graciously invited them all in and drove the yacht to the middle of nowhere. Needless to say, all food and drink was plentiful and on him. He even had a mini study room arranged inside his yacht - complete with internet connection and overhead projector. They had an extremely productive session with breaks for snorkelling (he had stocked enough equipment for everyone). They're planning a slumber party in the yacht next.

My friend says that if you passed this guy on the street, you wouldn't look at him twice; his manner was so down-to-earth. Maybe that explains how he got into Harvard.

If only our Indian 'millionaire' could learn a few lessons from him !

Of living on a student budget

2008-10-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

Image courtesy toothpastefordinner.com

It's a hard life, being an international student. Cheesy but true. And if one didn't expect that to be so, the person doesn't deserve to be an international student in the first place.

After eight years of financial independence, my student life has been quite an eye-opener. All of a sudden, I find myself wondering about the cost of each meal. I hunt fervently for the local brands at super markets and am practically married to the 'reduced for clearance' aisle.

My homepage is thisismoney.co.uk . In our halls, we often have long and drawn out debates on how far we stretched the pound. Any one item that costs more than a buck is taboo. Social dos are practically non-existent.

If food is free, then it's got to be me! We have free dinners occassionally for some get-togethers sponsored by the university and those are the only sessions where people in come early. If an outsider saw the scramble for food, he would think it was a soup shelter rather than students at a top business school. Thankfully, the events are mostly attended by alumni who've been there before so they just look the other way.

This one year is somewhat of a penance for me; it demands extreme discipline and self-control. It hurts to see pretty things that I cannot buy. While I scrimp for penny savings, I know why and hopefully until when. Being on a student loan and eating into my family's savings makes me extremely guilty while spending on what I don't really need.

Some other students feel the opposite. A classmate spends close to 50 GBP every week on food (I spend 5-6). She lives in a separately rented flat ( finds it too hard to share bathrooms in a uni accommodation) and uses her mobile phone to make calls that are normally free from public telephones. There is another guy who will eat nothing but his native food and will spend anything to get it. And the best of all is the one who openly proclaims that his own company has a chartered jet (we all doubt it - the so-called company has no website).

I watched this video today that talked about how international students in Sydney are so hard up that they are 40% below the poverty line. It is ironic that people who are in pursuit of skills that help them to contribute to the wellbeing of society have to live in such pitiful situations; they are more worried about paying the bills than they are about studying. So much so that the university is giving the really poor ones free food.

Personally, I think money management is all about being savvy. It is possible to live on a spartan budget if one knows where to look. Most stores have food or other FMCGs on sale all the time. It might take extra effort to compare prices and find the best deal, but as the local supermarket chain so aptly says 'every little helps'.

In my penny budget, here's what an average day's meal costs.
Breakfast
Cereal : 10p
Milk : 10p

Lunch
Pasta : 4p
Sauce, veggies, spices : 20p
Chocolate Mousse (1 small tub) : 7p
Coffee : 10p

Dinner
Noodles/Baked beans/toast with peanut butter : 20p
Fruit: 15p

Overall: 94p.
(All these foods are perfectly yummy, healthy, unspoilt, of good quality and nowhere close to the expiry date.)
The official definition of poverty line is 'an expense of less than 1 GBP a day on food'. Whoever created that definition doesn't know squat about how far a pound can go.

Of being grumpy

2008-10-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

Not feeling so positive today.

The real classes have started and they are much more difficult than I anticipated. My fault.

After a week-long lecture session, our prof (who has authored the book we're supposed to be studying) has given us an assignment so freaking complicated that I can't figure out what the hell to do. My fault.

The above assignment is to be submitted groupwise. I am in a group of five with three other Indians and an African - out of which one of the Indian guys is serious about doing this well. The others are freeloading. Not my fault.

The British - or Scottish (or whatever) banking system sucks big time. Banks open from 10 AM to 4:45 PM Monday to Friday. Most of them shut shop on Saturday. You need to check their website to see if they're open. If you finally find one that is open and if you go there on Saturday (like I did today after walking a couple of miles in a blizzard - read below), you have to 'please take a seat' and 'someone will be with you shortly' in a couple of hours. My flatmate went to Barclays Bank the other day to open an account and after waiting for an hour, she was asked to 'please book an appointment for tomorrow to see a personal banker who can assist you with your account opening process'. To heal the wound, she was promised that 'you'll need no waiting tomorrow' only another 30 mins after she got there to open a simple savings account. System fault.

The weather is a sucker. The freaking blizzard totally messed up my umbrella - the wind just bent the metal rods and broke them with the ease of snapping a dry twig as if mocking me while I looked on helplessly. Soon after, it almost threw me over the pavement and right on to a shocked Scotsman. Not my fault at all.

Overall, depressed. This whole thing is , well, interesting. Or maybe it's just this dull weather. Like our British teacher says, 'Oh bother!'

Of some sights

2008-09-29T03:37:00.000-07:00

Went to a local fair yesterday. These are some glimpses.

And the proverbial Scottish bagpiper

Of some Glaswegian reflections

2008-09-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a hectic week here at Glasgow.

From meeting new people across the world to finding my way in lone parts of town while understanding the nuances of Scottish culture, I feel as though a month has passed, not just a week.

The MBA class seems to be an interesting bunch of people. We have a professional opera singer (who looks just like Mel Gibson and has promised to get us tickets to the Royal Scottish Opera - weeeeeee!), stockbrokers, doctors, attorneys, an oil well engineer, bank officers and HR officials among others. I am yet to get to know everyone very well, but they come from different parts of Europe, Africa, Russia, Australia, China, UK and a couple from Scotland. Needless to say, over 50% of the class comprises of Indians.

To me, this is a very disappointing phenomenon. While I may not have been here if they hadn't taken in Indians, my contention is with the large majority that we seem to have - over 30 in a class of 65 ! I mean, here I am , spending all this money and effort to get an international experience, and what do I get? It's raining desis ! What makes it worse is that a large chunk of them (definitely not all) are here just to pass. Yeah - just to pass. While I do not understand why anyone would take the trouble of coming so far from home to an alien land and spending so much money just to pass, it could be parental pressure or the excess of money at home. I don't care. But what matters is that most of the scoring is based on groupwork. If those people freeload from my work, yeah, we have a problem !

#1 lesson in b-school : when asked for an opinion on anything (even in a casual situation), never answer directly. Nothing is ever 'good' or 'bad', merely 'interesting'. This way, we do not lose control over the situation, but others think we're on their side and divulge more information (we were actually trained to say this in different situations).

The teachers are pretty cool too - mostly Scots. Very informal, but serious where it matters. Some of them are authors of well-known management books.

The flat is more globally diverse than the school - we are 6 girls from 5 countries. And yes, we have fun doing girly things like cooking.

The city is beautiful (some glimpses in the next post), the locals friendly and the junkies dangerous. All shops close at 5 PM no matter what. The locals work very little but party very hard.

Overall, Glasgow is , well, interesting.

Edit: This post would be incomplete if I didn't mention Sandy, the smart Brit. He was my hero starting day 1.

The prof was rambling on about learning styles (admittedly not one of the most interesting things to know post-lunch). One guy was sleeping in the 2nd row and sitting right next to him was Sandy. The prof saw the sleeper and asked Sandy if he could please wake up his sleepyhead neighbour. To which Sandy replied without flinching 'Oh no. You put him to sleep, now you wake him up !'

The prof threw a tennis ball at the sleeper (yeah, here they come prepared) and after some laughs about Sandy's repartee (which the prof admitted he enjoyed), the class resumed.

Of getting there (finally)

2008-09-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

After completing loads (like tons) of documentation, running up and down the length and breadth of Kerala, packing and re-packing a zillion times, checking and re-checking another zillion times and traveling what seemed like a zillion miles, I am finally here to pursue my dream.

So far the experience has taught me valuable lessons in patience and persistence. If there's anything I've learnt in life so far, it is to never give up and to never listen to the nay-sayers.

And if a lazy bum like me can do it, then anyone can.

Of hope

2008-08-03T06:26:00.000-07:00

Courtesy : toothpastefordinner.com

As the days pass by, a sense of fear envelopes me. A huge responsibility attached to a huge reward at the end of it all. Can't remember who said 'With great authority comes great responsibility' - the sucka was right.

It's probably the novelty. The anxiety to take that big step for myself. The discomfort associated with getting out of the comfort zone. The exhaustion of having to do it all alone.

Each step of the way, He will be my companion. I know He will see me successful through these hoops. Each obstacle is just a thorn in the path - some more painful than the others. But I am made for the furnace. For someone whose life has been shaped by extreme discipline and smothered with success, this will be another examination. It will not be easy, but I will fight.

With God on my side, who am I afraid of?

Of gen-Y

2008-03-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

The cousin came down from USA with her semi-American daughters aged nine and four.

The older one D is a bookworm - complete with soda-glassed spectacles, shabby clothes and scholarly attitude. I nicknamed her 'but why' because that is the only question she asks.

Me: Cows do not walk backwards sweety.
D: But why?
Me: We can turn our heads and bodies back because we have two legs, cows can't do that because they have four.
D: But why?
Me:#@%$&*

Needless to say, she is contemptuous at other mortals. And that includes her sister A who is just her opposite.

Bubbly and cheerful with big brown eyes, A is lovable and cuddly. She wakes you up with a tight hug and then proceeds to wring your neck until your eyeballs slowly pop out of your head. She loves music and dancing, laughs a lot, adores her brainy chechi to bits and is hooked on 'why not?'.

Situation : A needs help to use the restroom, so I volunteer. Later, she finds me going to the restroom and locking the door. I hear a feeble knock. When I open the door, A is waiting outside with tiny hands firmly across her chest.

Me: Yes, dear?
A: I wanna come inside now.
Me: Oh, you need to use the rest room?
A (indignantly): No, I wanna watch.
Me (open-mouthed): !#$&%^&*&*!!!!!!! No way, honey.
A: Why not?
Me: Because it is bad manners, sweetheart. You need to let people be alone when they use restrooms and not chase them like this. Now you're not a bad girl, are you sweety ?
A: Well, you watched when I did it !
Me: #!%*&#$%$&*%^& !!!! *ran out of the restroom for dear life*

I give up.

Of obsession

2008-02-19T09:26:00.000-08:00

The friend and I were talking about life and its facets over a cuppa at the cafeteria.

She smiled at a girl and answered my silent question ' We stayed in the same PG in Bangalore a while ago'.

'That reminds me - I must tell you about this lady who ran this facility. She was kinda screwed in the head, y'know'.

Dangle anything that remotely smells like gossip in front of a girl and you instantly get her attention. I was all ears.

Apparently this Mallu woman was married to a jerk in Mumbai. He was drunk and broke and on one fine day, was thrown out of his shack for not paying his bills. He was out on the streets with the wife, a son and a daughter.

The woman went back to Mallu-land to recover from her trauma. With noone to support her financially or emotionally, she set out to become somebody in her own right. After selling her few ornaments, she set out to Bangalore to re-build her life.

It wasn't easy. Nobody wanted to rent a place to a jobless young woman. After rejections from several landlords, one finally gave in. Now she atleast had a roof to sleep under.

This woman was a warrior, if there was one. She promptly scoured the area to find working girls who wanted accommodation. She started with one girl and has not looked back since.

Today,it's been five years since she started. She runs a PG business that accommodates close to 50 girls. She drives her own Scorpio and lives in style. She gets anything (well, almost) done, provided she gets her commission - tickets in fully booked buses, movie tickets when the show is full house, admissions for weak students in colleges and so on. Every move she makes is for cash - no free lunches!

As I listened to the story of this amazing woman, my friend was less than impressed. 'But you know what the problem is ? That woman is obsessed' she said. 'She is greedy and no amount of money can satisfy her. The hardships of life have taken away the femininity in her - she now looks, talks and dresses like a man'.

That set me thinking - when people are deeply wounded by their experiences, do they become obsessed? Are such people screwed in their heads?

Well, life hasn't been always good to me either. I've been through some really bad times myself(who hasn't?). I remember when I was a kid, I loved cameras. I thought the ability to freeze slices of time on film was absolutely wonderful.

I was the poorest (financially) among all my cousins, so asking for a camera as a birthday gift was out of the question. However, I enjoyed posing for pictures and watching pictures of strangers whenever we went to the shabby old studio near our home in the village.

Once at a family function, one of my cousins proudly displayed her camera to me. I guess I was about ten years old then. As I stared at the object of my dreams with wonder and affection, I accidentally leaned over and touched it.

'Don't you touch my camera!!! she shrieked. The naive idiot that I was, I asked her 'Why not? I only want to look!'. 'Well, because you don't know anything about cameras, you don't have one, you can't have one! Now don't you dare touch and spoil my precious camera' she seethed.

I recoiled in hurt and horror, ran away, bundled myself in a corner and cried all night. My tears then gave way to determination. I would show her, I would! I would get all the cameras in the world if I could. I might be poor now, but I would learn and earn! I would someday own a camera - even if I never own anything else. I will someday get a camera way better than hers - this I promised myself.

I bought a camera with my first salary. Whenever I went abroad, I bought a few more. All sizes, shapes, features and costs. I learnt everything I could about photography. I can probably trace the history of photography with my camera collection. I still walk into every electronics shop I see and ask 'Do you sell cameras'?

The lucky ones with perfect childhoods and loving parents probably find this a little difficult to comprehend. But when life deals you a rough hand, certain seemingly insignificant incidents gets imprinted into your mind so deep that they refuse to go away. They shape and mould you into the person you are and become your obsessions.

So, I empathize with the PG woman. Her sense of helplessness when she was out on the street must have created wounds so deep she could worry about nothing else. She is probably making all this money to fill this deep void inside her - to forget her insecurities by wallowing herself in cash. But her wounds are too deep to be healed - she is now obsessed with money. And this obsession is being interpreted as greed.

Are we both screwed in our heads? I don't know and couldn't care less. But one thing I can say for sure - if you've been where we've been, you'll know why we do things the way we do.

Of Uncle

2008-02-10T07:22:00.000-08:00

My move to the 2nd floor apartment in the ABC complex was uneventful.

The next morning was just the opposite. Inspite of having three bathrooms connected to three different water sources, there was no running water.

After cursing out loud for the walls to hear, I reached for my deodorant and kneaded its atomizer like a baker on his first shift. I locked the place to get to work and then my new neighbour told me why there was no water - a guy had fallen into the borewell in the compound and died.

This man told me the news with such ease that it made me wonder if such things happened here every other day. Apparently, the water needed to be pumped out and so all the pipes were closed.

'The guy' was a 27 year old bachelor who had recently purchased an apartment in this complex. He was yet to move in and was living with his elder brother's family in another apartment on the ground floor. This elder brother was married and had no children. An overdose of alcohol had made him walk right into the borewell. The rest was history.

All his relatives rushed in. The wife's father came first followed by the boy's devastated parents. They took the corpse away to their hometown, but we were given gruesome details on the different parts of his body that were partly detached and bled before he passed over.

Back to the wife's father. He stayed here awhile with the family. He was a retiree, rich and handsome. He was always presentable with his hair slicked back neatly and his shirt always ironed. Over time, he started talking to me - we were soon on Uncle and mole terms. He even stored my mail when I was away. He once told me about how only his daughter remained (and boy, was she pretty). Everyone else dear to him including his wife, son and siblings were all dead and gone.

About five days ago, his daughter died in her hometown because of breast cancer. A minor bout soon aggravated and spread to the brain,causing sudden death. She must have been about thirty years old.

When we came to know of the unfortunate incident, we were shocked. The family had kept her illness a closely guarded secret.

The day before yesterday, Uncle killed himself.

I would rather not analyze whether Uncle did the right thing, because he will never come back. His bloodline is now off the face of the planet.

I will miss you, Uncle. Your smile,your black-rimmed glasses, the black mole on your face, your spoft-spoken manner and your inevitable question 'Why are you late?'. The chair you always used remains in a corner of the lobby, quietly speaking volumes.

I hope you rest in the peace you so needed. I, for one, will miss you sorely.

Of repeat rejections

2008-02-06T09:07:00.000-08:00

I am sick of being rejected everywhere - for everything. I am plain sick of it all.

Each rejection is a harsh reality check. Do I not have it in me? Am I over-confident? Am I as stupid as some others I know, and just unable to admit it? Gawd, am I going to make a hideously ridiculous ass of myself?

What the fuck am I doing wrong here?

Of Methil Devika

2008-01-13T07:51:00.000-08:00

I'm the laziest blogger on this planet, but I saw this today and had to yap about it.

*drumroll*

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce to you Methil Devika?

*applause* Thank you ! It's an honor to introduce her.

For all those who've never heard this name, I assume you are alien to the field of South Indian dance. To read all about her career and other blah-blah, please go here.

Why do I care to write about her ?! Because I knew the lass from high school. She was the kalatilakam at school and district and revenue district (what the hell is a revenue district anyway?) level competitions, all because of her dance performances. There was nothing she couldn't perform - bharatanatyam, kuchipudi, mohiniyattom, folk dance, the works. She was invincible. I remember waiting eagerly for her performance during school competitions.

Needless to say, she was the heart-throb of all the just-turning-adolescent guys in school.

She was the arts champ in high school for three consecutive years - and I repeated the feat in upper primary (with zero dancing, thank you very much!). We were both selected as outstanding junior citizens of Palakkad - but the similarity ends right there. This one was destined for something great, and I....

But, I digress. We went to the same college and the trend continued on a much grander scale. She danced, they salivated.

By this time, she was a little who's who in the dance scene. She was busy dancing and I moved away from home, so our meetings were rare. The next thing I knew - she had signed a deal with a producer in Hollywood.

Wait, there's more. One would think dancing was a full-time job. Not for her.

This one went on to do her MBA with gold medal and even to Santhi Niketan.

(Note to God : What did you make her brains with ? Could I borrow the leftovers?)

Why this rant today? I caught a glimpse of her while channel-surfing idly (THAT's what my life amounted to). Upon further investigation, I realized that this woman was a judge on the Star Wars show on Kairali TV. I almost freaked out. A judge ?! a JUDGE ?!

Upon sane thinking, I realized that she was the right person for stuff like judging dance performances. Heck, she had devoted her whole life to it !

I watched the whole show in the evening (for anyone interested, the show goes on air daily at 7:30 PM IST). Among a slew of extremely ugly and un-talented - I just made that word up - and most probably stinking- people, she emerged; in all her glory and grace. The same old girl - with maturity thrown in for good measure. Still beautiful, still level-headed. A lot more knowledgeable. Said something about 'mukhanga abhinaya' which I chose to ignore. I was too busy ogling at her and worrying about my dismally mediocre life.

My mother was nostalgia personified. After preliminaries (such as appreciating her looks and progress), she got down to work - driving home the point that she had lived her life and that I had merely existed.

She was right.

D chechi - if you ever read this teeny-weeny internet tribute, I'm honored to know you. I'm your fan for life.

Of e-motivation

2008-01-12T09:26:00.000-08:00

Got this quote in the inbox this morning:

'Everyone passes failures on the way to success'.

I hope and pray that's true, because I am passing thru a failure right now, and I truly, madly,deeply want it to be a stumbling block on the way to success.

Wish me luck!

Of settling

2007-12-15T09:28:00.000-08:00

Just read John Wesley's post on the '5 signs that you have settled' over at PickTheBrain.

The whole corporate gupshup is getting to me. Using Wesley's guide, I have settled. 5 times over. I am a doormat now.

I am probably the epitome of under-utilization. I'm so bored I have read every newsflash in the company database. I'm running short of websites to browse. I can draw graphs of posting patterns of my fav bloggers. I refresh Google News every five minutes and worry about how nothing changes. I send my friend an email with the subject 'Test' and run to her desk to see if I get there before my email does. I have the largest selection of snoozies holding 'I'm bored' placards on my IM.

I have settled. Miserably.

So much for career growth. Oops, what's career look like???

Then there are the signals that people send. Like not rewarding a job well done, finding faults wherever possible, asking too many pointed questions, the guys who wanted you for every possible favour now looking through you - and so many more.

I feel sick. Sick of having settled.

Of being Mis-World

2007-12-02T08:04:00.000-08:00

That's not a typo !

The Miss World (or Universe or Earth or Mars) competition blows up millions of dollars every year. Each 'foundation' seems to want to identify 'real' beauty, but do they?

Case in point - yesterday's Miss World contest. Is it me, or is it a coincidence that there was no contestant from any China-unfriendly country in the semi-finalists? No contestant from India, UK or Australia. Miss USA had won all the sporting competitions, so she had to be let thru. She was conveniently dropped in the next round.

There was no sashaying of models in designer wear. There were no questions asked! Each contestant was given 40 seconds to explain she was the ideal Miss World candidate. Everyone included the word 'AIDS' in their rehearsed monologues. Nobody made much sense, though.

What did our winner say? As Miss World, she would link the Olympics with the Miss World competition. I'm sorry, but what exactly does that mean? And how is that relevant? Please enlighten me.

During this process, she spent some 10 seconds searching the unfathomable depths of her mind for the word 'link' - pronounced as 'leeeenk'.

When she was announced the winner, she remained calm and composed (as opposed to the extreme excitement my Chinese colleagues displayed when they won some company merchandise). When she took her first walk as Miss World, she dropped her 'Miss World' sash. Ewww.

Please tell me there were no hidden agendas. Please tell me it was all fair. Please tell me that the winner was decided purely on merit and to advocate 'beauty with a purpose' - even if it was to link two unrelated events. Please tell me that playing the host had nothing to do with it.

That being said, Miss China is a pretty young lass. Just like every other contestant.

Of the super dancer

2007-08-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

Just switched off the telly after watching the grand finale of the 'Super Dancer' show on Amrita TV. 'Poor boy' Prasanth(on the left) won the grand prize - a brand new Suzuki Swift and cried like a newborn when he got the keys.

Reality shows seem to crop up like mushrooms all over the media. Amrita TV itself has several of them - Super star, super star global,super star junior, mahila ratnam and so on.

Granted, it's a new form of entertainment. Several laymen get the chance to come on TV and to make a neat bundle in the process. The viewers get to see fresh faces - and that factor helps increase viewership.

Oh, and then there are the SMSs. Mobile operators laugh all the way to the bank when unemployed youth with plenty of time on their hands send several hundred SMSs per day to get their favourite contestant in #1 position. Apart from the key question on whether the statistics shown on TV are real, it's all too easy to tilt the scales in one's favour - just buy a few prepaid SMS cards and distribute them for free. With unlimited SMS offers by several operators, it's a breeze - to cheat.

It seems preposterous to me that the common man - who in most cases has no idea of the nuances of art - gets to decide the winner. Judges in this particular show gave qualitative opinion of each dance and then the performer went on a vote-begging spree. Needless to say, the voting was based on emotions and not on facts. The good looking girl and the poverty-stricken boy were always selected for the next round. Somewhere in this process, some real talent was conveniently eliminated.

Check this out - the winner of this mega contest (it went on for several months with God-alone-knows-how-many elimination rounds, dance styles and what not)has bagged himself a role in a movie - as a COMEDIAN. So that's what they wanted - a man fit to be a JOKER. Prasanth, you have my sympathies !

That being said, the show brought out some real gems - people who personified real grit and courage. The channel did a wonderful job honoring a disabled girl who participated and even cleared the first few rounds - all the while dancing on one leg.

Unfortunately I did not catch her name, but lady - whoever you are, hats off to you.
You totally rock !

Of free booze

2007-07-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

Tis promotion time.

Yeah, yours truly got promoted too ! *takes a bow*

Tis also the time for the booze to flow.

Anyone who 'matters' has his calendar chockfull of booze party invitations. No invitation is rejected unless the invitee is dead.

This thing called alcohol can work miracles. It can make people happy or sad, restless or contended, provide courage and encourage bonding. It can get people into or out of jobs, sex or marriages. Officers in the government(and elsewhere) die for it. The more firangi your offering, the better your chances of success.

And when caps come off the bottles, the tongues start to wag. Some jokes are so bad that one has to tickle oneself to force a smile.

(Un)officially, the host of the evening is consecrated a member of the 'elite' team.

That doesn't deter some non-drinkers. They sponsor this event and then endure the torment all evening by sipping water or fruit juice. Ah ! the things we do to climb up the corporate ladder !

And idiots like me wonder why no amount of good work gets me anywhere. duh !

Of neglect

2007-06-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, an associate expired. He had sudden cardiac arrest.

This morning, the news trickled in. He was playing cricket with his friends in Bangalore when he felt pain in his chest. Subsequently, he fell unconscious. In a matter of minutes, he was gone.

Normally such events are met with uncommon sympathy and concern. The Company that never seems to care on a daily basis comes up with oft-repeated words of admiration for the victim. A few pictures are posted and the same ol' emotions exchanged. We expected atleast that.

Nothing.

Until afternoon there was no formal communication about the event. Around noon, the in-human resources sent out an email (really, how hard is it to type 2 lines?) and subsequently came over for a 2-minute condolence meeting.

The meeting ended and work resumed, amidst some controlled sniffles from the folks who were his cubicle-neighbours. Then we went off to lunch and then my friends broke the news.

The friends were battling for hours with the HR to get this email sent. The condolence meet was out of the question - they were extremely hesitant to even send out a formal note to the associates in the centre. And why? Because he was a contract-based employee.

Alright, so we have staff and contractors. Obviously, the contractors are recruited via an agency and are hence paid lower salaries than ours.

Now here's the part that I don't understand. What if the man was on contract? What if he wasn't on our regular payroll? What about the two years he worked for this company at lower wage? What about the happy customers he created by his good work?

And what makes his life any less valuable than ours?

This sparked off debates all thru the day. My friends are mostly seniors with more than 7 years of experience. What if anything happened to anyone who has been with the company for so long? Would he get an email (which he was never going to read), or a 2-minute silence? Just 2 minutes ??? For over five years of life that generated umpteen revenues for the employer?

Organizational behaviour talks about projecting one's image. All organizations are quick to project themselves as the best in the industry with the latest tools, processes and skilled people. 'Our most precious assets come in at 9 AM and leave by 6PM everyday' says an industry mogul. And when it comes to barebones....

I am just a number. I have come to realize that over the years.

It is time to move on.

On a sidenote - is it going to be any different elsewhere?

Of gratitude

2007-06-19T10:06:00.000-07:00

The rainy season is here.

Moi dislikes the rains. Dirty roads, puddles of mosquito-infested waters, bacterial diseases, wet clothes and cloudy skies annoy me.

The only time rains are enjoyable is when one is at home during a weekend. The warm bed is quite inviting this time of the year. Couple that with a hot meal and hot chocolate - and whoa! you have a picture-perfect monsoon!

Well, that kind of summed up my last Sunday - a hot meal, a warm bed and lots of heavy-duty sleep.

While moi was slowly waking up looking over the balcony and sipping hot tea, a labourer couple walked down the road. They had no slippers on and both were completely drenched - it was raining heavily and they had no umbrella. They were probably on their way back home after a grueling day of work. On a Sunday.

And that got me wondering (yes, I never stop!) . Many of the so-called self-development books I read talked about 'standing for something'. In other words, the key thing is to identify that one quality a person signifies. Obviously, different strokes for different folks.

Persistence, says a book , is the one thing you gotta have, and everything else will follow. There is another author who advocates excellence at every task. Goal-setting is another favorite item of several authors.

When we see the world thru our pair of eyes, we see it not as it is, but as we are. Which is why the one quality one should signify is a matter of individual choice.

Gratitude gets my vote. If there's one quality every human must have, it is gratitude. By gratitude I mean being thankful and appreciative of what one has. It means not always whining for more. However, it does not mean inaction or laziness. Strive for improvement, but stop every once in a while to celebrate what you already have.

On that Sunday afternoon, it meant being thankful to God that I have a house and a warm bed to sleep on. Of not having to get drenched in heavy rains. Of having a family. Of being educated. Of being 'normal'.

Gratitude brings humility. When we're humble, we learn to dissociate ourselves from our achievements and our good fortunes. Over time, we realize that we're mere instruments for the Almighty to work His miracles.

Come to think of it, each moment of human life is a miracle.

Thank you God. Thank you very much.

Of Sivaji

2007-06-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

Uber-lavish sets across continents. Ultra-expensive costumes. Witty one-liners. A whole new bunch of stunts. 6-door Mercedes'. True-to-life makeup. Hot babes. On-your-face punchlines. Very hot heroine who leaves nothing to the imagination. World-class visual effects. A R Rehman. Nayantara. The one and only Rajnikanth.

That's Sivaji (the boss) for you.

Sivaji was released a few hours ago all over India. However, the hype started several months back, and progressively increased. Tickets were booked for weeks in advance. Yesterday, it was a top 10 headline in the news.And yes, I watched it today (Yes ! still excited !). The movie was supposedly an 86-crore venture. And now I know why. *evil laughter*

Rajni totally rocks. It's hard to believe that at the ripe old age of 60, someone can look and act so young ! The stunts are truly catchy - guns shooting at will, fake hands to fool enemies, swords that pierce enemies even while not in use, coin tossed from the hand right into the pocket, sunglasses, tossing gum on the villian's face (and chewing it once it bounces back) et al.

Variety is everything ! Our hero travels from Chennai to NYC, then to Spain. The songs are mostly shot abroad (except the Nayantara song).And the effects. Boy oh boy ! One song(pictured above) has Rajni in 8 costumes all in the same shot - doing 8 different dance steps around the very-hot Shreya.

Shreya has tried. It's not easy acting with the boss ! With some lavish booby show (she takes off her red half-saree to save Rajni from being run over by a train and then runs halfway down the platform in just her blouse - all the while jiggling her assets) and booty-shaking, makes her presence felt (I'm sure several people in the theatre had increased blood supply to certain parts of their anatomy)The make-up artist has done wonders - in one song, her face has diamonds (or some such stones) pasted on it. She looks gorgeous.

Her washboard abs just reminded me how bad mine were. Sigh !(On another note, I wonder how many people she had to sleep with to get this role)

The music is nice, so is Nayantara.

Awesome movie - for lack of a better description. And on day 1 of the action, it was an experience of a lifetime.

It's time for Amitabh Bachchan to learn a few things about acting.

Of being #2

2007-06-09T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday moi took part in a paper presentation contest for young managers, organized by a so-called management association.

All teams were of four. As bad luck would have it, we got our invitation letter for the presentation with just a day's notice. We then set out on the mammoth task of creating a dashing deck and deciding what to say. Yours truly ended up covering a large chunk of the deck (one team member couldn't repeat what was given in writing, and another was jittery coz it was his first public speaking assignment).

Call me a loser in anything, but in presentation skills. Yours truly was selected best faculty from a group of two thousand - simply because of solid presentation skills.

I gave it my last ounce of energy, made eye contact, did all the right things - while expounding gloriously on our material. Our strategy was solid and so was our deck. Our Q&A session was quite good too - the 65-yr old judges seemed happy with what we proposed to make the Indians more competitive.

We saw a couple of other presentations - they were the lousiest ever. Bad slides, no strategy, ugly people and totally Mallu-ised English.
Basically, we had no competition.

The results were announced, and we came a measly second. The team that came first gave a repeat presentation, and we searched for that one reason why they were better than us - nothing - apart from the fact that their people spoke in almost equal increments of time - unlike we did. In terms of strategy and presentation, we were way better.

How did we know? During our snack session later in the evening, one of the judges leaned over to me and congratulated me on a job well done. With a snotty smirk he said - in a team of four, all should talk, not just one or two.

So that's what killed us - an overdose of me. Inspite of giving it more than a hundred percent AND moi being a better presenter, we lost. I lost. Rather, we lost , because I did.

Maybe it WAS a mistake. What pissed me off however, was the lack of attention the oldies paid towards the quality of our content and presentation, regardless of who said what. They gave higher marks for more voices - rather than for what the words actually meant.

We retained our trophy from last year - and that really is of the least importance.

Anyway, here are my conclusions on the management association and its thought processes.

1. This association has noone aged less than 55. All through the evening, we heard talk about how the 'young' managers of today make the older ones' life difficult. The chief guest ran out of saliva talking about how 'these young people think 180 degrees opposite to us'.

Really, if we were indeed such a threat, then why hold a competition for us?

2. All through the past fifty years the association has been around - from 1958 till date - there has been one woman president.ONE. I say no more.

3. Radical ideas and smart youngsters scare them - because they have to move out of their comfort zones at the ripe old age of 60. Tell them what they want to hear, and they'll keep you happy. During our presentation I suggested the 'hire and fire' policy for Indians - one of the judges took it very personally.

4. The so-called senior managers of yonder years need to wake up to the fact that wisdom and experience do not automatically come with old age. NOTHING does - except wrinkles.

Personally, I think their certificate is worth less than the paper it's printed on. And I believe in getting rid of trash as soon as possible.

Simply because it stinks.

Of time

2007-05-28T21:53:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, the Mother put her foot down. 'Up at 6 AM and to bed at 11 PM' she growled 'Now that's how it will be. The day you disobey, I clear up my stuff and leave this apartment'.

Though the daughter laughed as if Charlie Chaplin had just given a live performance, she knew the Mother meant business.

'Your eyes. Who is going to take care of them? More than 12 hrs a day in front of this computer/TV combo? You aren't getting any younger, you hear?'

'But' the bleary-eyed daughter said meekly 'I don't feel sleepy at 11 PM, ma'.

The answer was a roar 'No questions. And yes, you will get used to it'.

I watched non-chalantly as my mother marched victorious into the kitchen after delivering her ordinance.

As expected, 11PM in bed was a nightmare. Tossing,turning, listening to sounds of waterfalls and birds, counting to 100 and back, thinking of boring people, remembering class 10 geography - nothing helped. What made it worse was the soft snore from my mother's side of the bed.Moi was was awake as an owl.

As the clock struck twelve, I realized I had just witnessed the bloom of a new day. And then, it began. The thinking, that is.

How soon time passes us by! It seems like just a few days ago when I joined the company. It's been over 7 years now !

The passage of time. It marvels me how each day passes by unnoticed. And before one realizes, months and years have silently flown past. All too sudden, one is on the death-bed, wondering if one's life was well-lived, well-loved and well-served.

Self-discipline is a key element in making life chart the course we want. Bernard Shaw said something to the tune of 'If you want life to take you where you want to go, you need to do the groundwork to make it happen. Else, be satisfied when life takes you where it wants to go, and don't complain'.

Procrastination is my evil twin. I have been planning my higher studies for so long that I can't even remember when it started. I'm still at zilch. While I watch my peers and juniors going places and feel jealous, I make promises that I'll get there myself. And then I conveniently forget about it.

The same happens when I see models on TV. I work out for two days, then stop - 'Where is the time?'

I'm not letting the vice outmaster me. One strategy that has worked for me is advance mental preparation. I set in my mind a date when I plan to work on X. I constantly remind myself about it. By D-day, I'm all set.
It's slow, but surely steady.

Signing off here with this quotation:
'In reading the lives of great men, I found that the first victory they won was over themselves. Self-discipline with all of them came first."

-- Harry Truman, 33rd US President

PS : The clock in the photo is located at Kanazawa Station. It displays time via the control of the fountains behind it.

Of Kaushambi Layek

2007-05-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

Not feelin' very positive today, after reading this in the newsie this morning.

And now there's this theory by the police.

So many lives are lost everyday that we've stopped caring about death.

This piece of news brought with it a feeling of helplessness, maybe it's the organization-connection.

Like everything else in the world, this will be forgotten in a week or two, except by Kaushambi's close family - who worked behind the scenes to build up her career.

What made the nagging hurt worse was that I asked several people about this today at work, and apart from one, no one seemed to care about it - in spite of Kaushambi having worked with the company for two years.

Boy, that sucked.

Of bands

2007-05-17T10:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was eventful at work.

Around noon, the office was full of hush-hush whispers.

'It's come !!!'

'Really ? Lemme go look!'

*giggles, squeals*

Phone calls to all people known and unknown - 'It came ! And it looks good. Yes, sure treat this evening saar !!!'

*sob followed by choice swearing*

'I'm gonna kill him one of these days'

'saala usko main...'

'I quit'

*severe banging of the telephone receiver, followed by throwing away anything in sight*

The cafeteria was full of 'Did you know what he got ? top band! ' followed by deeply inhaled gasps , 'Is he really that good? Maybe he just schmoozed adequately' and resigned sighs.

The annual appraisal ratings were out yesterday.

And yes, I called my mother to tell her the good news. Thank you, God !

Of cheap publicity

2007-05-05T08:35:00.000-07:00

It was with amusement that I read the 'vela special' edition of the local newsie on Apr 13, 2007.

The 'vela' is the annual festival in our local temple. It's a great opp for the locals to socialize, for those far away to re-unite and for the newly-rich to flaunt all their new toys.

Not long ago, our village - called Puthur - was a haven - a place where we actually felt like family. We had elderly people to approach when advice was required, friends to kill time with, and above all, our Goddess who kept us in good shape. Peace.

And then, time changed everything. Except the Goddess.

People went to the 'Gellf'. They built big houses and drove big cars. They stopped studying - why waste time when the oil mine spews cash? They drank expensive booze. They married rich women, who brought in more money. And all this sudden wealth had to be displayed. What better place to do so than at the temple, where everyone was sure to notice?

The latest cheap stunt was the material printed on the newspaper. Probably anticipating that noone would pay for material worth less than the paper it was written on, the proud fools distributed it for free.

The 2-sheet avatar of trash was covered with news about the local 'ungills'. Photographs of the authors - as big as the all-foam-and-no-beer articles themselves, competed for the reader's attention. To be fair, a couple of the articles were indeed scholarly. But for the most part, the paper had stupid rich men talking about the history of our village, the current who's who list, members of the temple committee - all stuffed up somewhere in the mess of carbon. Which was all good for publicity.

Except that they got all their facts wrong.

Anyone who lived the village for some time knew how well the articles were embellished. The boozers determined that their fellow boozers and their families were 'authentic' locals. The rich smugglers who donated more to the temple were the people to be proud of! And several not-so-vain families that had actually lived there for over a hundred years were quietly sidelined.

Hear this - someone donated Rs.35K to the temple for the festival. Another 'Gellfie' saw this and I guess his ego just underwent brain surgery - he ran back home, returned with Rs.55,555, and promptly donated the money.

Sometimes it makes me wonder how far people will go to get some attention. It is a universal truth that everyone wants to be loved and appreciated. But how ? And at what cost ?

I guess that's the problem with having no education. It shows up as a lack of culture and common sense. Noone in the village thought of getting somewhere on merit and earning publicity. All they could do, was to buy some really desperate journos and have them print utter nonsense. They even made God an instrument for their vanity ! How cheap is that ?!

Oh, and before I sign-off, here is another piece of trivia. The locally unemployed men - which includes most of the local men - are the largest supporters of the breweries in Kerala. No matter what the occassion, everyone boozes. People can be born or dead, married or divorced - let the booze flow, yeah !

The icing on the cake was when my grandfather expired a few years ago. As per our traditions, there is a ceremony on the 16th day of death, which helps the departed soul rest in peace. All the belongings of the deceased are disposed of, and it is a very sorrowful event. The catch is, it needs a 3rd-party to be present, someone who is not related to the deceased. We approached an elderly local, around 60 yrs old. He consented, and on the eve of the ceremony, he sent home a piece of paper - it simply said '12 bottles of chilled beer'.

Of emptiness

2007-04-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

I have no idea where life is taking me.

Maybe I'm going places, or merely staying put. How do I know ?

The human mind is always ready to label events. We always want to know if something is good or evil, preferable or not. And my mind in all its ostentatious vanity has termed this feeling 'emptiness'.

Ah ! Wouldn't you know wiki had a page on emptiness? Numbness, that's what it is.

It all boils down to being bored at work, methinks. Somehow it's hardwired that work is everything - well, almost - and when there's nothing to learn, the inquisitive mind dies a slow, painful death. Add to it liberal scoops of schmoozing, sidelining and plain stupidity. Whoa - here's a winning combination for attrition !

That being said, the inquisitive mind looks for positive channels for output. Life is about stretching oneself to the level where one is uncomfortable - and then just a little more. So yours truly has been studying, taking tests and preparing for life beyond airconditioned offices.

Oh, and if you are yet to read 'Think and Grow Rich' by Napoleon Hill, please do so. In this time of mindless browns, this book is a much-needed Holi festival.

Stay positive, people !

Of marriage

2007-04-04T10:37:00.000-07:00

Back to blogging after a long hiatus. And with some really good news ! A close friend of mine got married recently. Umm...Correction - she re-married recently.

N is a phone buddy. We've been talking for several years

now. When we spoke first, she was newly married to someone. One could hear it in her voice. Evidently she found it hard to contain her excitement. And over a period of time, she withdrew into her shell, and refused to talk. One such quiet evening, she told me she was divorced.

I said all that a friend would say, and coaxed her to get back with him. She would not listen, and stayed single for almost a couple of years. All this while, our conversations would include her ubiquitous tip on why to never get married. Living hell, she would say.

And then she called me a week ago with this wonderful piece of news. Her new hubby is a doctor (what's this huge impression with the medical profession?), it's his first wedding, he's totally OK with her situation, and best of all, he is head over heels in love with her.

The difference in voice was obvious. She had gone back to her old excited self, with a tad of maturity thrown in.

Then she popped the million-dollar question - So A, when are you getting married ?

Before I could throw open my jaw in shock, she gave me a whole lecture on how one should not delay one's wedding.

Being single at 28 is a tough task in this country. People's imaginations run wild when they hear 'single', and almost instantaneously there are a hundred reasons in their minds as to why one should be so. Rather, it's treated as an illness. My previous landlord refused to lend me an apartment when he heard of my marital status - he actually thought I was in the trade!

A few months ago, I was on the lookout for an apartment, and contacted a real estate agent via the company. He turned out to be an old hag with an older scooter. The apartment is really close to the office, and he agrees to take me there on his motorized bicycle. In the course of conversation, I casually mention that I'm not married. He screeches the object to a halt and makes me follow him in an auto, leaving me speechless. Needless to say, I used the auto to return home.

And it does not end there,especially not in my village. My mother is now immune to the 'Is she not married yet?! My daughter who studied with her now finished two marriages and three children !' conversations. People want to know why, oh why I'm single. Maybe I have a boyfriend ?! Or worse, a girlfriend ?! A problem with my horoscope ?! Too much pride ?! Too little money ?! A black cat?! A torn t-shirt ?

Eyebrows rise the moment a bachelor walks into my apartment. Or when I crack some jokes with my guy friends. Or when I travel somewhere with them. Or even when I laugh out loud.

Lessons learnt :

1. Married bliss is definitely a perspective thing. The same person in two different relationships gives entirely different advice.

2. No matter how innocent or legitimate the reason for staying single, people refuse to listen. Not that it matters, though.

3. Married folks go green with jealousy when they see carefree singles. They just can't take it, hence they force the singles into a similar fate.

4. The song 'When I was single - my pockets would jingle -oh
I want to be single again' is true to the T. A lot of my married friends are bankrupt and have loans to pay for the next 20 years.

Three cheers to all the singles out there !

Of death

2007-02-11T06:28:00.000-08:00

It's amazing, this universe we live in. It goes thru so much change over time, but deep down at its core are the same driving principles - of virtue and vice, of love and hate, of action and inaction, of birth and death. Funny, they come in sets of two.

Death is a great leveller. It's cold. It's scary (heck - even the uber-brave Saddam Hussein was frightened when the noose was slowly tightened around his neck). There's this huge low that one goes thru when a loved one dies suddenly. It is even worse when that someone was strong-willed, and a wall of support during troubled times.

All humans are ditto at birth and death. Our puranas talk about three phases of human life - childhood, adulthood and old age. These three are indeed common to the whole universe, they are manifested as dawn, noon and dusk.

The Gita talks in detail about these three phases. In fact, this very fact is depicted everyday in the Guruvayoor temple (a famous temple for the Hindus of the world), where the Lord is dressed up as a boy in the morning, as an adult during noon, and as an old person in the evening. Each day is a new beginning, so the Lord goes thru these adornments everyday. No better manifestation of the
cycle of birth and death.

There are several theories about death. What happens when we die? Do we go straight to heaven/hell or do we pass thru steps in between? As per the Gita, the soul is ever-lasting and that the body is just an outfit to be used well and thrown away.

I do not know, and it does not matter to me what happens once I'm gone. What does matter is what I do while I'm here, how many smiles I cause, how many lives I make easier and how many people I care for. To me, a life without service of some kind to others is as bad as death itself.

No way I'm dying before time !

Of purpose

2007-01-31T09:18:00.000-08:00

Over the past few days(months, actually), I've been perplexed by the million-dollar question : What is the purpose of my life? What was I born to accomplish?

Well, if I knew the answer outright,

a) I'd be God

b) I wouldn't be so perplexed !

There's also the view that there is no such thing as purpose. And that we are here, so we might as well enjoy what's on offer.

The thiest in me refuses to believe this,though. Everything in the world is part of a grand plan by The One, and every leaf moves as per His will. However, that does not imply inaction - only selfless action.

Several self-help gurus have provided their points of view via their books/websites and blogs. Robin is one of them. James Allen is another, and his all-time classic 'As A Man Thinketh' is worth a million reads.

But guru or no guru, it boils down to coming as close to the answer as possible. One blog written by an award-winning scholar suggested that I randomly write out words for 20 minutes, and when I finally write out the words that make me cry, I'd have just written out my purpose.

I tried out the exercise, but it just made me fall asleep.

It has come to the point where I evaluate each day to see whether this has got me any closer to what God wants me to accomplish in this lifetime.

These days there is a lot of stagnation at work, and the feeling of being obsolete is so on-your-face that one can't ignore it. Maybe going back to school will help. If not anything else, it will open up a whole new avenue of responsibilities !

One thing that has helped is the Bhagavad Gita. It has all the advice any human being needs, at any point of time in life. Gandhiji attributes his success to it.

I'm nowhere close to the answer to my question. But one thing I do know - nothing beats the joy that comes by service to others.

The security guards at work are being taught spoken English. This morning, I helped one of them speak his first correct sentence in English.

The smile he gave me was priceless.

Of perspective

2007-01-24T09:23:00.000-08:00

Driving in India is a skill to be acquired by continuous and careful practice. If you've never had to drive on Indian roads, thank your stars - lucky you ! But there are some souls like mine that have to endure this mini-test of human patience every morning.

I live in a residential area, so there's this 2 minute drive I need to do to get to the main road. This 2 minute stretch feels more like an hours' drive, simply due to the plethora of potholes on the way. Moreover the road is so narrow that 2 cars have to practically kiss each other's rear view mirrors to get thru.

Ah ! and it does not stop there. This teeny weeny little side road is full of twists and turns, and not a soul honks the horn when coming from the other corner. That way I do not know (until the guy's vehicle is a micrometer in front of mine, that is) that someone is coming from the other side.

If it's a bigger vehicle (like an SUV), one party has to reverse and let the other one get thru , which always happens to be me, because I have the smallest car in the Indian market.

Until a few days ago, this was a source of constant irritation for me. The fact that noone else obeyed the rules was annoying. Even more frustrating was the fact that there was nothing I could do about it, other than to reverse my car into ugly-looking side roads whenever required.

A close shave with one of these umm....'drivers' served to bring a dose of perspective. I panicked, and stepped on the gas instead of on the brake ! In a second, I was back to my usual self, and avoided a french kiss with a transformer.

Here is what the incident taught me :

0. Pray before thee starts driving.

1. Be prepared for vehicles to come in un-announced. If none appears, consider it a blessing !

2. Expect potholes, bigger vehicles, children jumping in front of the car, reversals into side roads and the worst of all, the big lorries that use up the whole road.

3. Whatever happens, do not panic.

4. If indeed you panic, do not open thy mouth.

5. NEVER lose thy cool on the road. Everyone makes stupid mistakes.

A problem is only as it big as we think it to be. I read somewhere a few days ago that a child was born without a face. Two eyes and a mouth, but no face ! Over a period of time, the child has learnt to live with it.

And here, I worry about reversing my car onto a side-road.

Of exams

2007-01-20T04:31:00.000-08:00

Yours truly has a couple of exams to take over the coming weekends.

Made me wonder how taking an exam makes us think up strategies.
For now, I know I am going to attack the theoretical stuff first and then do the mathematical stuff later. The objective is to get the magical score of 80 on 200.

With a goal in sight, the mind conjures up different ways of achieving it, and the brain silts out the logical one.

We compromise. Then we plan how to justify the compromise. And then we compromise on that plan.

Jack Welch once said that learning a subject should be like tending to a farm. The sowing, the weeding, the plowing all need to be done at the right times, only then will the harvest be bountiful. You can't cram the farm !

If I were to own the farm, I'd do all that in the 11th hour and 59th minute. Thank God I'm not a farmer !

Of 'small-L' leadership

2007-01-14T02:17:00.000-08:00

Today's scribble is to honor Mayilamma. She passed away a couple of days ago.

The name doesn't ring a bell if one is not from Kerala. But in Kerala, she is known as the Dalit woman who made the multi-billion dollar Coke empire bow down on its knees.

Mayilamma lived in a rural place called Plachimada where Coke started one of its manufacturing plants. Which was fine, except for the fact that the factory needed to bottle 85 truckloads of Coke everyday. And that needed a lot of water.

All this water was being pumped up from the available earthwater, which left hardly anything for agriculture and drinking purposes. In return, the factory pumped out huge amounts of carcinogens into the soil, which polluted whatever little water was available.

Mayilamma was one of the residents impacted. She decided to do something about the health hazard and got people of her village together to protest against Coke's misdoings. What made it unique was that this woman had no education and no support from any political party.

But she did have one thing (and lots of it) - tenacity. Coke being Coke ignored her protests and the strike in front of the factory. Police was sent to beat up the crowds. But with true commitment to their purpose, the locals led by Mayilamma persisted.

By now Mayilamma was news. Her unique struggle caught the attention of BBC TV. People from UK came over and performed tests on the water in Mayilamma's well. The carcinogen level was found to be fatal.

To cut a long story short, the government (that too the Kerala governnment, one of the sleepiest on the planet) interfered after almost five years of her protest. And the Coke factory had to be shut down. It was the first time in its history that Coke had to shut down operations due to local protest.

Quite like David Vs Goliath.

Later on, the judiciary was well-'oiled' and the factory did resume operations, albeit with a strict warning and processes in place to not pollute the environment. The irony is that Mayilamma died partly due to the overdose of poison that Coke gave her for free in the water she was drinking everyday.

To me, Mayilamma symbolizes the real leader who knows what is right and moves heaven and earth to achieve it. She found a cause greater than herself, and gave her life for it. In fact, the lady was so publicity-shy that there is not even a decent picture of her on the internet.

I salute the un-dying conviction and persistence which got her the victory that she so deserved.

But then, who needs pictures when memories are deeply etched in the hearts of the many hundreds of families she saved ? Those never die.

Of sex

2007-01-11T06:24:00.000-08:00

This analogy came from a dear friend of mine. Posting it here because it totally rocks !

'Sex is like ice-cream' says she. 'It is available all over the place, in more flavours than you can imagine. You've got to find the varieties you like, and you're better off sticking to them. It is equally important to try out a new flavour if it looks good to you. And remember not to eat too much of it too often, because that kills the joy it brings'.

Profound.

Of friendship

2007-01-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

Been away awhile. Yours truly took part in a quiz competition held at work, and won an all-expenses-paid trip to another city. Cost-cutting set in, and our flight was reduced to a bumpy 12-hour overnight bus ride. The roads in India are more potholes than roads, so needless to say the night would be sleepless.

Many folks opted out of the trip, but I took it on as a challenge. Now, this is a city where I spent a few formative years of my career. There are a lot of people who nurtured me back then and made me the person I am today. A bumpy bus ride was a cheap price to pay for a chance to meet them again.

And meet them I did! I stayed with a close friend. Though we were meeting after several years, it was as if we never parted. We picked up where we left off. It was that instant connection we made. The hugs. The laughs. The conversations over cups of hot tea. The gifts we exchanged. The sharing of good and not-so-good news. The home-cooked meal she made for me - it had everything I liked. It wasn't the best meal I've eaten, but it was cooked for me. And that made all the difference.

With each friend, it was a trip through a different alley down memory lane. Many of them are now married and with children. It was wonderful to feel so loved. I have not felt so fully alive in years.

Made me wonder how important those human connections are. In today's world with its overdose of technology and gadgets (a colleague who sits right behind me at work sent me an email today asking if I had a pen to spare) we forget the importance of love towards a fellow human being. We forget that in times of dire need, it is the human who is more helpful than the device. It is incredible how a little quality time spent with loved ones can enhance one's mood and give a sense of purpose.

And like all good things in life, we need to continuously work on improving those skills. Day after day.

I'd do the bumpy bus ride a hundred times over. Just to re-live those moments.

Of Hope

2007-01-02T05:35:00.000-08:00

What makes life so exciting is the fact that we are blissfully unaware of what could happen the very next moment. Depending on what actually happens in the next moment, we are quick to label our ignorance as blissful or disastrous.

Whether we admit it or not, we all keep the Faith, in some way or the other. It may be by being a regular at the local temple /church /mosque. Or, it may be by a secret prayer that we mutter before we take up anything important. It may be by that lucky pendant we wear on special occassions or even by that lucky dress that 'helped' us get through that crucial interview.

The funny thing about faith is that in the face of adversity it grows stronger. It helps us grow. It gives us the strength to bear the less-than-perfect times ahead.

And most of all it gives us something to look forward to. It gives us hope.

Here's hoping for a wonderful year ahead - where dreams come to life, where love, peace and prosperity abound, where the faith gives the strength to overcome our roadblocks and where the mind stays positive.

Happy New Year, people !

Of leaders

2006-12-31T01:45:00.000-08:00

Of learning

2006-12-30T01:44:00.000-08:00

Today's scribble is inspired by John Wesley 's blog.

We're in an age when having just a college degree doesn't get anyone too far (ok, there are a few exceptions). For the average Jane (or the average Janaki, for that matter), there's stiff competition out there for that plum post, for the heavy paycheque and even for the corner desk. And that's when Jane or Janaki chooses to go back to school, figuratively speaking. They enrol in an educational program of some kind.

Needless to say, this back-to-school transition isn't easy. Apart from the very real threat of not getting a paycheque (if learning full-time), one needs to pay the fees and other expenses. Then it's a struggle to get into the right course and get out of it successfully.

Information overload is a real issue today. No matter what your field of interest, there's always someone who's got there and published stuff online (text, audio, podcast, video, feeds... whatever) ,or on paper. There's no way one can finish reading up everything on the internet about one's favourite topic. Thanks to blogging, new stuff is out there before one even realizes it.

Focus helps. It helps you assess what your strong points are and what you really want to be, before getting into a course (please note I said 'be' not 'do'). Einstein realized he had an extra-ordinary aptitude in physics, so he stuck to what he was best at.

The next key factor is the attitude. It's important to think and act positively, and to live with a sense of purpose. And that's where people like John Wesley come in handy. His site has several pointers on how to stay focused and to be open to learning new stuff. Good work, John!

Jack Welch says that there were two ways of completing school. One is by understanding the topic, its nuances and interpretations. And the other one is by cramming one's way to good grades.Welch continues to say that studying a subject is like having a farm. Land has to be ploughed and seeds sown at the right time. The land needs to be gardened and maintained with care. Only then will a good harvest ensue. There's nothing a farm returns if the farmer just crams up his tasks in the last minute.

Persistence and world-class discipline are key ingredients to success, whether in learning or anything else. Keep at it, no matter how hard it may seem. You'll be glad you did.

I almost forgot - Keep Smiling !

PS : Yours truly just enrolled in a distance learning MBA and is trying really hard to understand management accounting. That's also what prompted this scribble ;-)

Of people

2006-12-29T05:54:00.000-08:00

An unexpected friendship is blooming at work.

This young lady joined our company a couple of months ago.

Way better looking than yours truly and from a better company, this girl had all the guys at hello. There were fist fights among the guys to even get her some coffee.

Now this irked me no end. These were all my friends until a minute ago (still are, really !), and now, they had no time to listen to me. To put it mildly, I resented this new creature.

The jealousy in me took no time to label her every attribute as evil. Her outfit, her accent, her spectacles and everything else. I ignored the very woman sitting next to me for the past three months. I must have been oh-so shameless.

Then came a company social last week, and we finally did talk to each other. And now I feel like SUCH a jerk for my behaviour. Far from being a bitch, she was actually quite intelligent and funny. We connected - big time.

Today she told me she quit. She'll be gone in a few days.

It was one of her reasons that stung me at the pit of my stomach. She said she had no one to talk to. Apparently the tasks assigned to her were not what she expected, and she was quite frustrated about it. Moreover, her 10-day old wedding gave her a lot of changes to cope with at home. All she needed was an adult-to-adult conversation with someone who cared.

I was late. I could've helped her stay. I could've supported her, and been there for her. But my jealousy and my ego blinded me.

So here are the lessons this new friend taught me - that appearances are deceptive, that I'm too quick to judge people, and that it never hurts to say hello the first time.

Some lessons I guess, are just learnt the hard way.

The Miracle of Life

2006-12-28T05:34:00.000-08:00

Every single moment of being alive is a miracle. And that's one thing the East and the West agree upon (finally!).

In the West, they talk about living life 'full out' and of filling every waking moment with profound passion. 'Live on the edge' they say, because you're gonna die anyway.

In the East, the connotation differs slightly. 'You never knew about today until yesterday, and have no idea about tomorrow. You might be dead the next moment and yet you seem so proud of yourself ' goes a famous Indian hymn. So, keep the faith. The One who keeps and cures all is watching over.

It amazes me how many people take their lives (and the lives of their loved ones) for granted. The old adage - when we live, we live like we'd never die and when we die, we die like we've never lived - rings true. Each living moment is a treasure and people while away their hours. People drive like there's no tomorrow. They spend time doing unproductive activities. And they spend countless hours in front of the TV watching re-runs, or in front of the computer 'just surfing around'.
Hey, life is also about having some fun. About living on the edge. About relaxation and games and surfing and TV. About some good drinks and (even better) sex. Like Robin says 'We're all going back to the same dust. We might as well have some fun while we're here'.

But the key word is 'balance'.

Death is a great leveller. We truly understand the value of something when we don't have it anymore. All of a sudden, we'd do anything for that hug, that kiss, that smile, that home-cooked meal, that word of encouragement. By then, it's a moment too late.

We're mortals, just a sigh on the edge of eternity. While we're here, we might as well spread the good spirit. The best use of time is in creating everlasting bonds with the people who matter. Then we continue to live in their memories long after we're gone. Now, that's one thing time can't kill.

Live and love as much as possible, because there's yet to be a day that returns. Because when it's time to go, there is nothing more tragic than realizing that our lives were meaningless.

I wonder...

2006-12-27T06:20:00.000-08:00

This blog is a scribbling pad of insights about life.

The universe wants us to win, say the gurus. And each person we interact with is trying to teach us something. All we need to do is to be open to this learning.

This really is the first day. Of this second life. My best life yet.