lest i forget

Speak no English, use no computer

2009-04-14T21:33:00.003+05:30

Election season is no doubt the most entertaining period in a nation’s history. And savvy media in these times has taken the tamasha to another level. Your mind sees a rush of emotions – helpless laughter, cynicism, sarcasm, anger, sadness. Usually anger triumphs over other emotions at some point, courtesy some idiotic politician.

This time round, I would like to bestow the honour on Mulayam Singh Yadav, and the Samajwadi Party’s manifesto. I cant call it shocking; perhaps it is a tad annoying. But mostly, it angers you, and makes you want to pull your hair. Really, Mr. Yadav? No English in Hindi Des? No use of computers?

Let’s start by planning your itinerary ji. Wait, you possibly aren’t involved, in this busy election period. May be your PA would know better? Hang on, he needs a print out, to walk you through it. Aha! Alas, it comes from a computer no?

Let’s move on to those many flights and trains (really?) you take. No ticket reservations ji? I think I remember you saying on TV that you think computers should not be used where work can be done manually. Why not? Shall we wait 7 days for your ticket to arrive to transport you to the next city for a rally ji? Oh hell, did I just forget you don’t need a ticket anywhere?

I struggle to think of ways you use a computer in UP ji. And then it strikes me – you cant possibly know what role technology plays, given you spend all your time in UP (except Nithari of course) ji?

May be then, your sons could provide perspective. They’re my generation, it seems – I am all for the youth ji!

Apologies, but I am a big computer junkie. So I googled this – “Mulayam Singh Yadav son educated” and guess what I found sir. (Do ask your son to explain google to you ji – it may well be part of your slogan in the next elections - Bole har search google, Mahan SP ka cycle!)

Anyways, not to digress – this is what I found ji – your own son is considered one of the best users of IT, to reach a wider audience (now now, Akhilesh is a little pesumptious). Not only that, he is educated in English medium, is an Engineer (in keeping with popular English speaking elitist choice of this generation) and even did a higher degree from Sydney. No, before you think otherwise – you may not understand their accents, but they speak English too ji.

http://www.expressindia.com/latest-news/mulayams-son-eyes-net-gain/444950/
Hailing from Etawah-one of the most backward towns of UP-35-year-old Akhilesh is perhaps the only politician of Gen X, at least in the state, who is making full use of information technology to gain political mileage. And why not? With a diploma in Environment Engineering from University of Sydney, Australia, Akhilesh has done his BTech from University of Mysore, Karnataka
His close associate Anurag Yadav confirms: “Bhaiya motivates all youth members of Yuvjan Sabha and Chhatra Sabha to use the Internet to stay connected. Most of them have started using the net”. The site is professionally managed and a team of IT experts tag along with Akhilesh, who is always equipped with his laptop wherever he goes.

May be you should hire some talented IT bhaiyas ji, too get all this off the websites, before someone more powerful finds them? I assure you, many good English speaking institutes outside of UP provide such talent ji.

Is it time to move onto your better half in the SP, Amar Singhji? I haven’t sent that man on TV without a fancy gadget ji. Unfortunately, I don’t have the connections to observe him in person. May be he and his friends can set a sweet example in your honour ji? They can collect at Shivaji Park, and burn all the laptops in their large houses in a symbolic gesture? After all, this is one business none of them is really into yet ji.

Should we really move onto the Angrezi bit ji? Unfortunately, the irony does not escape me – I will have to continue in English. I can speak Hindi, but can’t type in Hindi on the computer ji. Double whammy no?

No English should be spoken in Hindi des. It is hard to tackle this one without being branded elitist ji. I must confess – I started in a convent, and went onto graduate class 10 from one of the best English speaking schools in my city. Tough one. But then ji, I knew I could trust my computer. All I did was google this – Spoken English in Uttar Pradesh and I am so spoilt for choice ji – it is more confusing than amusing!

Everyone around you, except you of course seems to be focused on speaking English. And of course yours being a high density population state, is hard to ignore for the English speaking – opportunity smelling corporate variety. After all, the non-elitist average UPite seems quite gung-ho about speaking English. And there are so many of them!

I can safely and proudly bullshit the elitist argument this one time ji. Leave my blog ranting aside, someone has actually bothered to research this – a few minutes on this may open your eyes? Don’t worry, we wont tell anyone your PA shot a print-out from the computer.
http://www.hku.hk/clear/conference08/doc/handouts/VERMA%20Meenakshi%20H_handout.pdf

And finally, haha … this is really the proverbial nail ji. May be you said no computers, because this is the age of Blackberrys ji?

On Facebook, he has over 300 regular members and on Orkut there are over 1,000. “This is the best was to communicate with friends and well wishers,” says Akhilesh, who mostly does his net communication through Blackberry while travelling.

New year cheer ...

2006-12-31T02:32:00.001+05:30

The regular blog feature at this time of the year is perhaps the round up. And I am attempting mine as well. Perhaps, that really is the biggest reason why a new year’s eve must remain larger than life – just so that each one of us can take stock of life, like we lived it in the past 365 days. Now why 365 may be a good question at this juncture. Let’s just say it’s convenient and a common milestone, so easy to benchmark.

Having rested my case on why write now, I proceeded to think about why I was writing at all. It’s definitely not a habit, nor a ritual or a tradition passed on. No one really is going to read what I did with my life in the past year and feel particularly elated or depressed, or smaller or bigger. Nah, my life hasn’t been life changing to anyone at all, perhaps, anyone except me. There it was! That is why I write! Optimistic me feels there is enough to put on record, enough to look back and feel happy about, definitely enough to look back and regret!

I made the great transition this year – from student to corporate junkie. To my mind, it’s significant. I wonder why the 4 ashramas of the Hindu faith didn’t consider this one as big as the others – perhaps it is enshrined in the getting married after studying one – you’ve got to feed a family or whatever, right? Anyways, to me, it’ll remain one of those moments, or periods, more likely – when I stepped out quite literally from the sheltered yellow run down walls of Pilani and then the staid red bricks of Ahmedabad into the work life.

As many variables as could change, did. My first job, my first job outside my country, my first brush with consulting, my first brush with my firm, my first time in a city with no close friends around to lament about everything to, my first travel like mad job, etc. etc. And what a roller coaster ride it’s been! All that yada yada about learning every day, is quite true fellas, and learn I did! And whether I chose to or not, rather quickly! There were other firsts as well – living in 5 stars, travelling business class when I got lucky, actually being able to shop in the duty frees, using the taxi recklessly (and hoping for a Mercedes cab each time …) – little joys in life, I guess.

I travelled, and how, especially given my mostly non-flying past. I am glad I did, and then not so much as well! So now, at the end of 2006, the US (NY, Chicago, and Boston), Vietnam(Hanoi). Hong Kong, Thailand(Bangkok, Pattaya, Hua Hin), Singapore(well, I could list the neighborhoods) are ticked off. I could’ve done more, and then I could’ve done less. So, that part of the work-be23/24-and-do-random-travelling worked out well, I guess.

On the personal front, Hari and I crossed the one year milestone – super kicked about it, and well, still smitten and touched. He moved to Singapore from London, and I can’t wait to finish on my project in Bangkok, and hope to work out of Singapore next. It’s funny – in one year, we’ve made the transition from having no money and all the time, to having all the money, and no time! Guess life’s like that.

There are other little things, like hunting down and renting a house I share with Megha and Parijat; bickering over provisions and other groceries; paying bills, bills, and more bills; and living the whole Expenditure expands to surpass income theory. At the very end, I am well-equipped with a long list of New Year resolutions on that front!

Now, I guess it’s time to move on from being so self obsessed! A lot of things happened to the people I love loads – Reddy got married right at the start, in February. She’ll stay my absolute darling, and I’ll never be more glad than when amazing things happen to her! So did Apu, to her PS sweetheart – how cute! And then Tikli in December – the first from the IIMA gang – wild times in Chennai, and a picture perfect wedding. Champi did as well, in June, and delightfully is in Singapore! So did Nana, and scores of others! Guess, it is the start of a new era, this year, haan?

Of course people made lovely jobs, and wonderful things happened to them, their lifestyle, their confidence, their lives, in general, and it’s heartening, and warm!
Friends fell in love, can’t remember any close ones who fell out, thankfully; friends apped to big schools, and are most definitely headed there, sooner than later.

In a nut shell, it’s been a happy year, or at the very least, neutral, if I look at my immediate world in general. Trust there is enough to crib about, as far as the world at large goes. Will save that for another one.

But as I finish, I realise, my wishlist has never been longer for the new year; my list of resolutions is so long, it makes all expectations unrealistic; a run through in the mind of complications is impossible to complete – so complicated are the expected ones – indeed I sign off, not too optimistically. And yet, the new year’s cheer I feel sure will eliminate any doubts/hangups/worries about life in the next 365 days – and leave me feeling yet again, that life is beautiful indeed; and can be as lovely as you want it to be.

On a totally related / unrelated note ...

2009-03-16T10:24:00.002+05:30

... I love this song. Would love to research and find out more about it.
I wonder what could have possibly prompted someone to write these lyrics...
Jo ab kiye ho daata, aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Humre sajanwa humra dil aisa todin
O ghar basa-in humka rasta ma chodin
jaise ki lalla koi khilona jo pahwe
dui char din to khele phir bhool jaave
ro bhi na pahve aisi gudiya na kijo
agle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Aisi bidai bolo dekhi kahi hai
maiya na babul bhaiya kaunu nahi haiho,
ansu ke gehne hai aur dukh ki hai doli
band kevadiya more ghar ki boli
is aur sapno mein bhi aaya na kijous aur bhi sapno mein bhi aaya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo…
www.varshita.net

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/techie-father-throws-newborn-daughter-into-well/87631-3.html?from=search

2009-03-16T10:22:00.001+05:30

This (Source: CNN-IBN) piece of news I read over the weekend is disturbing. The alleged father is apparently a gold medallist from a leading Indian University, and two years older than me. He married someone 7 years younger, also a software engineer, and then went on to get her pregnant.

Just 4 days after the baby girl was born, he threw her into the well and killed her, apparently to make his point, rather explicitly, about not getting enough attention from the wife. Lame? Hang on.

The family now alleges there was dowry harassment. He claims he is insane. Of course he is!
Sooner or later, am sure we will hear female infanticide. In any case, infanticide is the only charge they can really book him under right now.

This may well be a one-off, but it angers me. There is more to education than a well-earned technical degree. The experience hopefully makes us more mature, and able to make more sound decisions. He was 29 freaking years old, in a good job, and with access to all the support that the modern world provides. No good came of all that.

Speak up for the moderate identity ...

2009-01-27T01:41:00.001+05:30

What happened in Mangalore is shocking. In a state ruled by the BJP, one more form of unfamiliar extremism comes to the fore. And the moderate voice of the Hindu must be heard. Loud and clear.
It is not just a women's issue. It is about a group of potentially unemployed and disillusioned men, being fed a single dogma and opinion, and having access to none other, especially a moderate one.
We need action - swift and conclusive. Disrespecting women is not a cultural standard we set ourselves either. Our tolerance has distinguished us as a civilization for centuries now. And it is this single discerning quality that sets us apart from our neighbours, especially in these confusing times. If we give this up, we give up the right to call others extremist, to judge others as intolerant and divisive, to accuse others of being regressive.
We hear different voices everyday. And in the omnipresent media circus, some voices are amplified more than others. But we cannot let the ignorant believe that the non-descript Sriram sena is the new voice of the Hindu. It definitely is not.
Every time there is Islamic terrorism, we accuse the moderates of not speaking enough. It is time now for the Hindus to show up now. Not just the women, but any Hindu who knows his/her religion. And knows it well enough to believe in the founding ideal of tolerance. And as an off-shoot of that, respect for women and freedom of thought.
The moderate Indian Hindu, who outnumbers the moderate Muslim by manyfold in this country must stand up now more than ever before.
I do. If I mattered to the circus, I would be up there fighting the Senas, tooth for tooth, eye for eye. And to those women in Mangalore: My heart goes out to you. And my head says - speak up, even if it is hard. Even if you are a pawn in a grand game. Speak up. It is what will separate you from the extremists. And the cowards.

Younger leaders ...

2009-01-09T18:44:00.000+05:30

It’s starting to happen – the guard’s changing in Indian politics. It actually started a few months back when 4-5 very young MPs were made ministers of state in various faculties in the central government. Now Omar Abdullah has become Chief Minister of strife ridden Jammu and Kashmir for a whole 6 years.

When the elections were over, it seemed like the senior Abdullah, Dr. Farooq would keep power, but the baton’s been handed. No power sharing gimmicks within the coalition. No wresting from the hands of the old. A simple pass-on.

There has been so much in the media about India finding its own Obama. Can someone with a clean slate, no decades long political history, no dynasty rise to the top in India? Look at our Prime Ministerial candidates for the elections in 2009 – one of them is 80+ years old Advani; the other likely to be one of Manmohan Singh, Pranab Mukherjee, or madam herself. Or worse, we may end up with Mayawati at the centre of it all. Unless, in coming a full circle, we actually end up seeing Rahul Gandhi. My vote in this case is for the sibling.

Well, you can be sceptical and say it is just one rung down in the same old stinking dynasty alley. We’ve seen it from the days of Jawaharlal and Sheikh Abdullah to Rajiv and Farooq, to now Rahul and Omar. Ah well, you could be right. It’s probably routine in the Indian context.

And yet there is some hope. These are a well-qualified, educated generation. They have had access to some of the best schools in the world, worked in the best corporate set-ups, and yet grown up with a unique sensisitivity for ground realities, given their backgrounds. The combination is unique and potent, and perhaps makes for an even more desirable personality than that of Obama’s.

Many of the senior generation are stalwarts, and yet many are tainted with corruption charges. And so you wonder if tax payers’ money may have potentially nurtured many of these bright, young Indians as they grew up. But if even one of them turns out to be worthy of his role and position in Indian governance, I would consider my money well-spent.

And it's ticking.

2008-12-01T15:12:00.000+05:30

On one of those mornings when you simply don’t want to get out of bed, have you imagined a scene where someone you can’t quite see is trying to forcibly prise your eyes open? Like literally using a flat spanner as a lever to pry open those heavy sleep-laden eyelids?

That’s exactly how I feel I am being treated by those terrorists who were at the Taj last week. In a strange way, they have done me and hopefully many other 20 something, rich yuppies some good. They have forced us to wake up and look around us, and not even too far away. For terror struck familiar territory.

Oh no, it wasn’t in those 4 feet wide galis where you went shopping before Diwali, when you were still part of a middle class household. No sir, this time round, you can’t say “Man, I used to go there with my mum to buy diyas every Diwali. I (of course!) haven’t been there in 12 years. Now, you get them at Shoppers’ Stop you see. Thank God!”

If you went to business school in India, and decided to stay back, you probably ended up in South Mumbai, or Gurgaon, which is quite obviously the other sitting duck, for everyone to watch with bated breath now. Thanks to the famous ‘lack of diversity’ syndrome at Indian schools, you should have known a minimum 10 people who were your friends / friend’s friends / friends’ fiancés / friends’ bosses, etc. etc. who were at one of the restaurants, cafes or simply sauntering down the causeway. So no big surprise then that you knew someone who was shot dead/shot at / choked to death in the tragedy. Even if you missed this one, you probably knew someone’s someone who was on the Mumbai local in 1993 or 2006 or 2008 – take your pick. Or may be in the bazaars of Delhi, Hyderabad, Ahmedabad, Guwhati? The malls of Bangalore, Delhi?

It’s almost like, if I had my entire life mapped out, the law of averages is heavily stacked up against me. Like in a video game, I have missed target narrowly multiple times over. Be it city, time, location, method – I have escaped narrowly several times now.

Well then, what more can I possibly be waiting for? If I don’t open my eyes, and do something now, I never will. Yes, sitting on a time bomb feels uncomfortable indeed.

Nation or religion ... and which terror to go with it?

2008-11-19T00:34:00.003+05:30

The Malegaon blasts issue has given birth to a new concept - 'Hindu terror'. On We the People, on NDTV 24x7, the discussion on Hindu terror was based on the premise that while Hindu fundamentalism has been around long enough, perhaps Hindu terror is relatively new, and hence quite confusing to many of us. Considerable airtime was hogged by the whole army angle. About how a national institution of the highest integrity had maligned itself with the rise of the Purohits of the world. The counter of course was that making a generalisation starting with one Purohit and extending to a 12M+ force, was a gross error. Agreed.

Everyone on the show, with great patriotic fervor proclaimed how the army was above all this. It was the most secular of institutions, and no religion was above one's loyalty to the country, and hence the army.It makes you wonder - why is it ok to fight to safeguard the sovereignity of your country, when it is not ok to stand up and say, my religion is superior. Has a time come, when in the natural evolution of the world, religion is going to emerge superior to nation?

PS: Let me clarify that I dont support this emergence. Perhaps, I will perish then, in one of those many blasts, as I dont survive the test of the fittest! Sigh. In fact, I am quite sure I will, especially given I believe I took more naturally to being an Indian as a kid, than a Hindu. Indeed, the world order ain't for me.

And as far as the original topic of debate, Hindu terror, goes, here goes - I think it is naive to assume that religion has no links to terror today. While it is stupid to not acknowledge how much it can motivate terror and terrorists, it is even stupider to hence focus on Islamic terror, over Hindu terror, given their strikingly similar end goal - death and destruction. Let's not waste time over this one.

A weekend at Unchagaon ...

2008-10-05T21:28:00.002+05:30

Finally, I managed to take advantage of being in Delhi – I did a quick weekend trip, into the beautiful countryside, in the adjoining states. Two girl friends and I went to Unchagaon, a little over a 100 km away, in the district of Bulandshahr, east of Delhi, yesterday.

After a laborious drive through Delhi and Ghaziabad, we were briefly on good roads till, the road got expectedly monstrous for a 45 min stretch. A quick right off the Delhi-Moradabad NH24, and we were along a picturesque canal, 20 km away from Fort Unchagaon.

Driving along the canal was exactly the rural India experience you would imagine. A narrow lane, struggling to stay pakka, healthy buffalos barely visible as they lazily let a part of the head stay above muddy water, beautiful women in the brightest sarees, and bullock carts that defined snail’s pace.

Just when we thought this fort was nowhere in sight, bang!, and there it appeared right in the middle of the colourful Saturday bazaar! Having dodged potato carts, tilted cycles, precariously placed large brass turrets, and a few scurrying animals, we were finally within the gates, and sipping into some refreshing lemonade.

The village and adjoining areas were actually a separate kingdom, whose Raja’s abode is today’s heritage resort. A quick tour reveals a large room with the heads of 17 tigers, shot down by the bade sahib. Bade sahib is now over a 100 years old, and lives a lavish life in GK-I. Other royal splendour on display includes swords, silverware and antique furniture. A little dramatic perhaps, but you begin to understand better what they mean when they say India continues to be plundered through the ages.

After a lazy afternoon, we stepped out and drove the 5 km to the Ganga, that flows calmly by the village. It was a beautiful sight – a few villagers sitting on the banks, after a hard day’s work, a boat ferrying people across the breadth of the river, and the sun beginning to show a lovely orange tinge.

In a few minutes, we were aboard the simple wooden boat, being steered by a long pole, into the waters of the Ganga, or Gangaji, as the boatman fondly referred to it. Shots of a beautiful sunset, lame attempts at trying to steer the boat, and some dolphin spotting later, we are back on shore, knowing we have lived the moment of the weekend. There is something calming about the river, and the its harmony with the empty skies, and how the people of the village fit in beautifully. Perhaps, only we stuck out as sore thumbs.

On our way back, we stop at a ganna field, and lick hot gur off our fingers. Also pick up some ganna sticks to rip off later. Our next stop is at a potter’s house, even as he is about to wrap up for the day. Unsuccessful attempts at the wheel are quickly put away, and we end up playing with the most adorable goat kids ever born.

Back at the fort, we indulge in some happy badminton after many years, and I thoroughly enjoy it all. Soon, the evening’s lok geet karyakram begins – 3 men, a harmonium and a dholak regale with local folk songs and some hindi film music from many years back. They end with an extremely insightful song on how Godess Parvati urges Lord Shiva to move with the new fashion. And what defines the change then – wearing baggy pants, buying a maruti car, drinking campa cola, and becoming the new Devanand.

It’s striking. Being in a business which advocates an entry into the Indian market to tap the gold mine so often, and attempting to articulate how customer segments are different, and how rural India is another ball game, I feel like this 1 min song did it so much better.

The other memory that will stay with me forever, is the concept of the ‘Jugaad’. The most common means of transportation in these parts is the Jugaad, and it is literally just that – a vehicle put together from abandoned parts of other vehicles. It is a little like a tractor in the front, with a carriage to seat humans on the back that is pulled. Of course, most times you can hardly see the vehicle, beneath the layers of human beings for whom it is an indispensable lifeline. It is innovative, necessity born, and striking proof of the average Indian’s penchant for the sub-optimal. Jugaad se sab chal jaata hai.

We are back in Delhi, after a relatively quicker drive back, and sign off with Chinese lunch at 3 pm, Sunday afternoon, at a posh restaurant. Guess they don’t make ‘em campa colas no more, in these parts.

Now that I think of it, it was pretty close.

2008-09-14T23:03:00.002+05:30

I was at Janpath yesterday. And yes I heard the loud thud that accompanies a bomb blast. Of course I was one of the commons, and didn't think much of it. I was at my favorite book store right at the start of the bustling street, fighting the urge to buy more books. Book Land, is it called? I had just bought 20 books the previous weekend at the Delhi Book Fair, Pragati Maidan. Not so far away either. And had promised myself I wouldn't buy anymore.

But I so love this book store. The last time I visited was I think in Jan? I had lost my way and found myself at Janpath. And Pilani days came flooding back. Of leaving luggage at the cloak room at Ajmeri gate, and taking the auto to Palika Bazaar. Of lounging in the central park lawns - hoping to catch the elusive winter sunshine, hoping to feel less cold. Of being so unbelievably badly dressed and still callously wandering the circles of Connaught Place. Of checking out the movies at Regal Cinema. I remember going there straight after the XAT in 2004, to catch a movie.

I had a lovely time. I bought little trinkets, earrings and a top I'd never wear, at Janpath. And then I casually stepped in to this book place. And surprisingly, for a book store in Delhi, he had more than the 23 regular best sellers - fiction and non-fiction. So, I gingerly set down my shopping, and started searching. Casually at first. And soon, vigorously. And began to discover new titles, familiar titles, unheard of authors, charming covers. The book shop owner craned his neck to see me from behind numerous piles - "aapke liye kuch nikalen ma'am?"
"Haan Bhaiya, kuch alag dikhayiye. Indian." He fished out this Ismat Chugtai for me. Short stories. From a feminist of the early 20th Century. Intrigued, I picked it up. And with it, 6 more.
Happy day, well spent buying books and junk, in good old Connaught Place/Palika Bazaar/Janpath.

Back in mundane Gurgaon, I never managed another visit to my favorite part of Delhi. Till yesterday. When the now familiar bomb series happened. Till yesterday, when Hari was in town and we were celebrating 3 years of being together. When we first met, on the first date we ever went on, we had hopped from one coffee shop to another, never wanting the day to end. For a whole 8.5 hours. And we wanted to do that again, 3 years down the line.
So we woke up on Sat, went to the food court at Ambi, got a wrap, watched 'Rock On' in Gold Class, went to the coffee shop at Reliance Mart, had coffee together (our second stop), picked up a couple of books, and then decided to drive out to Delhi, and find a Barista. One road led to another, and suddenly we were on ShantiPath, Satya Marg, and I thought, Why not go all the way to Janpath/CP, and surely there will be a Barista to play Scrabble at?
After a few wrong turns, we were at the McD signal, and turning right, on a gut, when Hari spotted Saravana Bhavan. And then like they say, there was no looking back. Hari really misses his South Indian food in Hong Kong. In that moment, we were so excited, thinking about little idli's dipped in molagai podi, and rava dosa with filter coffee.
We ignored the Barista, drove round the block, and came back to park at Tribhuvandas. I had to leave my keys behind at the parking, and well-trained to expect this, I picked up my stereo, parked my car, and off we were.
Once at Saravanas, the inevitable '1 big argument for every visit' had to happen. And we had our pointless moments over how Hari didnt have the right clothes for a party we had to go to later that evening, and how he always didnt take this seriously. I was pissed.
So we walked out determined to find our hosts later that evening a nice piece of Indian craft along Janpath, and my boy friend some decent clothes to wear. But of course, after a little meandering, we ended up at the book store.
Before we knew it, we were piling up books to buy. Hari was so excited about his finds at the store (I personally think he reads some really random books). I fished out the shop owner from behind the piles this time, and eagerly announced - "Bhaiya, kuch achcha dikhayiye. Pichle baar, Ismat Chugtai jo dee thi, bahut achchi lagi." He promptly vanished.
I picked up a magazine 'Covert' with an interesting cover on terrorism, if I remember right. And the Frontline, on the Kashmir issue. Also, the latest Outlook. In the mean time, my 'Book Land' friend came out with 3 books for me - all of which I just had to glance at, to know I was taking with me. I was so happy. Which is when I realised I didnt' have cash on me. And the book store didnot keep a card machine. Shit. Bhaiya, ATM kahan hogi? And he told me what I alreay knew - it was in that big building - you had to walk up to Central Park and take a left and walk up many steps to a Citi ATM. Let's go Hari, these books are so nice. I really want to get them. And Thud. There was a shudder. I turned to look at the Police booth right there. There were 3 policemen right there. And everyone looked at each other for a brief moment, and got back to what they were doing.
10 seconds later people started moving. Many more people soon joined. Hari grabbed my arm, prodding me to leave. I remember distinctly what I said - 'Come on, you think it's a bomb! Nahin hoga yaar. Let's go get the cash for these books.' He wasn't convinced, but I bullied him. He wanted to cross the road. And I didnt because I knew we wouldn't come back. I turned to the shopkeeper, picked up my pile of books, asked him to keep them aside, and said I'd be back with cash. We started walking away. And I asked an onlooker, 'Kya hua bhaiya?' 'Kya malum, madam.'
We'd walked a few steps, when we realised we'd carried a book along by mistake. So we went back, to return it. It was when we started walking away once again that I realised this was serious. Anxiety was beginning to show on faces around me. When we looked towards Central Park, it seemed normal, only a little more crowded.
We quickly crossed the road, and I began to panic. We were at Janpath! If there was a bomb blast at Central Park, surely there was going to be one here. Worse, I had to walk towards Central Park, to my parking spot. It took us 3 minutes.
My car was jammed, right behind a maruti and a bigger car. I looked at the parking lot keeper. Kya hua Bhaiya? He grinned - Pata nahin madam, 10 rupees deejiye. chalan kidhar hai?
I was numb - space had been cleared in the meantime, and I could take my car out, but at the back of my mind, I was beginnning to digest the fact that it was a blast. I looked towars my car, and it was right next to 3 telecom boxes - the ones that look like little steel Godrejs on the road? My mind was in a whirl - all 3 were partly open - should I check? should I whizz my car out?
We were in front of a famous jewellery store. Were we at the next target?
For the next few moments, I dont really know what I did. I wasn't scared or in a panic. Mostly distracted. I pulled my car out, Hari stepped in, and we were on the road, away from Central Park. The traffic on the opposite side was already jammed, and a fire engine was screeching. For a moment, I thought - must be a transformer and a fire. The next instant, I could hear ambulances.
Adu called, anxious. And finally, I believed it was a bomb blast. She lives rihgt next to M-Block. Her dressing table has shuddered, but she was fine and at home. She was alarmed I was in CP, urged me to drive out, into a hotel may be.
By now, Hari and I were driving blindly. He was unusually calm. I was freaked out. Every turn, tree, traffic light seemed like the next blast target point. We ended up near India Gate, and I was so sure we're going to catch the blast here. Of course there would be one here!
We drove into a gali in darkness, when I found myself on the way back to Janpath, and tried to avoid it. There were a few men coming out of a building, and the road ahead was blocked. I quickly swerved and dashed out, onto the main road. About 40 minutes later, I was on gyarah murthi, somehow, after having driven past India Gate, Parliament, north and South Avenue. And then we headed home. People called constantly, and we didn't tell anyone we were so close, till we got home.
And now the irony of it all strikes me hard. How Hari and I needlessly fought at Saravanas. How for no rhyme or reason we ended up at CP yesterday. How I picked up a magazine called COVERT, with a cover story on violence. How I had left my keys with an unknown person at a parking lot, in an unknown spot, where terror, unknown, struck. It could have been inside my car! How those books still lie at that book store, waiting to be bought. In cash.
I am so going back next weekend.

2008-08-12T12:32:00.003+05:30

I just had a life milestone last month. I finished 2 years on the job. My first 2 years working hard (and making money for it!) out of school. And it ended in an 'on time' promotion. Ye to that!
I like milestones. Like, I always make a big deal about birthdays. A big big deal. There has to be cake; and phone calls at 12 mid night, a plan for the day, not too much time spent in bed on the day, a visit to the temple, dinner with your best pals, happy flowers from distant friends, etc. etc.
I like the idea of a big new year's celebration. Or diwali. Or Christmas. I know a lot of my friends don't. Especially, new year's eve. What's the big deal? It's just another day. I agree. the 31st of December is probably one of many more to come. But what I love about new year's eve, is whether you like it or not, at some point during the day, a kaleidoscope of the year will run before your eyes. I love remembering crazy moments during the year, silly fights, sillier impulsive actions. I love all of that. So yes, the fuss is not about 31/12/xx so much. It's about 1 day every 365 days or 500 or 737 - I don't really care; when you sit down and think about all that happened since the previous such time - in a flash. I love the feeling that washes off you as you live that moment. That kaleidoscope.
Funnily, it always seems so happy.

yet again...

2008-08-12T12:29:00.002+05:30

I have wanted to write for a while now. Things to write about come flooding - at least once a week. And yet, somehow, I don;t get down to doing it. Ever. I have written this kind of post before. I don't think it's writer's block. It's some strange inertia that never lets me translate the thousand thoughts on my mind to a post or even a sheet of paper or a word doc - for laters. Why? Why? Why do we stop when it comes to the things we enjoyed doing most as kids?

Tax my time, not my money.

2007-09-04T00:13:00.000+05:30

Sometimes, I marvel at the HRD ministry. At the diligence with which it has been super-effectively plucking out all the wrong issues in Indian education, over the past 4 years. First the whole debate on reservations for the OBCs. Then the controversy over how IIM directors should be selected. And now, exit tax on graduates from the IITs and IIMs, to stem brain-drain.

I wonder if these guys just sit idly behind tall ancient wooden desks, and scribble a law out on yellowed government paper, when they're bored. May be on a non-Bollywood movie release Friday.

That the IITs and IIMs are infamous for brain drain is long established. But to think that an exit tax will fix this is, is at my euphemistic best, short-sighted.

Why have these graduates chosen to leave Indian shores? Why are some of them choosing to return? What are the merits to them going abroad and making a life for themselves? Likewise, what are the de-merits? What about the graduates from Pilani, the RECs, that the UGC subsidises as well?

I worked for a year in Singapore after IIMA, and have returned this July, hoping to build a career in India. Brain drain is not a malady facing India alone. You want precedents to what happens when you think extortion can fix this?

Look at Singapore. From the age of 9 or so, you go through rigorous school and exam systems, to make the President and other scholar scholarships to study abroad - at a Cambridge or Oxford or Berkeley or Stanford. You are bound to return and work for the State for anywhere between 4-6 years. And the price to break this bond is definitely prohibitive, at a few hundred thousands.Yet, I found out over the course of my year there, that almost all of these 'scholars' chose to break that bond, to join a leading investment bank/consult firm/law firm for a better career. And they just paid their way through the fine, over 3-4 years.

Some improvisation in recent years. These very same consulting firms/investment banks are now offering to pay half the amount, or lend it on an interest free rate, to entice 'bright youngsters' such as these scholars to join them.You think money can stop these guys?

And to imagine, the Singapore government's among the most efficient in the world, and it wouldn't be half as bad to work for their treasury or civil services. Infact, they're debating in parliament right now as to how to benchmark civil servant salaries to top notch private practices.

Will the Indian government be able to stop any of this? With the exchange rates still not in our favor, the tax will probably work out to a month's salary abroad.

Don't get me wrong. I am the most vocal when it comes to how we lose people to other countries, after investing so highly in them. I am all for a rule that says you need a six month stint in the rural areas, before you get a degree. Or that you need to spend x months in a PSU before you can graduate from the IIMs. Or a 5 credit course, as part of your curriculum requires you to work on a key government issue. So be it. Make the course 3 years long.

If time is the price one has to pay to go to a great school in India, so be it. At least, one lives in hope, that some part of it serves a purpose. Money is no price to pay. Especially when someone else is paying it for you.And that is exactly what an exit tax will ensure. It will just mean spending 7-8 lakhs on my MBA, instead of 4, and will leave me with no sense of greater debt towards my country, for the equal amount it spent on me, to get me that world class management degree. On the other hand, even if only by virtue of a rule to earn my degree, if I fixed the accounting system at an ailing UCO bank, I'd may be unwittingly sow some seeds of giving back to my country, some day.

You can of course go on to argue, that all this will fail when it comes to implementation. All students will do is grease some palms to get that rubber stamp on their grade sheets. But hey, let's not throw up arms in surrender before the battle's even begun.There are several forces in the market that can control that. Placements for example could be one. With Engineering School, it could just be a good project you need on your resume when you apply abroad.And then, let's not give up on our best institutions' ability to do it the right way so easily.

Finally, let's play fair.
a) The IITs and IIMs may have started the trend, but enough and more other schools' students go abroad, at the expense of the govt.And these are kids who're probably at the other schools, cos they didn;t make it to the IITs and IIMs
b) Don't buy my money. Buy my time. It is more valuable, and will really have to come from me.
c) Please let's not be short-sighted. The IITs and IIMs have done us a world of good. India's intellect, wich they represent is clearly its best equity and identity abroad today.
d) For the 1147th time, whatever happened to fixing primary education? Truly, moral tales taught us nothing. We're still after the goose that lays the golden eggs.
e) Wake up! Smell the coffee! Get a pulse on the ground. Every IITian and IIM grad worth his salt knows India is the land of opportunity today. The world is a free market, and traffic flows where opportunity lies. So, please can we get some perspective!
f) Why doesn't the government ever want to talk to people like us, who've been there, done that, before coming out in the open with something this bizarre?

You will feel it too...

2007-08-26T21:01:00.000+05:30

When I was in school, my Sanskrit teacher hailing from Punjab would often talk about the bloodshed that was partition. She would mock at India's description of its freedom struggle as non-violent. It instilled respect, painted a picture of what freedom struggles must've been like, in my mind. But I don't think I really empathised.
When at BITS, I befriended two girls from Kashmir - one Hindu, and one Muslim. They expectedly had radical views on all that was going on, and little affection for each other's faiths and identities. But they described with almost an exactly similar degree of pain, the bombings and shoot outs, that were a regular feature of their visits to the bazaar. "Haan, kabhi kabhi bomb phat thi hai, tho dukaan mein ghus jaate hain, 1-2 ghanton ke liye.", one friend casually mentioned. It hit me, just a bit. It must be scary to live like that I thought. I had come sympathy. But did I really understand how they felt? Perhaps not.
And then, the constant debate and discussion on the Mumbai blasts. And the usual spiels that followed, on Mumbai's resilience. I love Mumbai. To me, the whole story was purely romantic. Heroic. Here was a city, teeming with people, that just got up, picked its spirits up, and continued living. Never mind a string of blasts now and then. Wow! I said to myself. But did I really realise what it took to live that attitude?Not quite. But this, I realised yesterday.
When suddenly over dinner, friends mentioned there had been blasts in Hyderabad. Come on! Bomb blasts? In Hyderabad? Must be some stupid home made bomb by a bunch of naxals who lost their way from the interiors of AP I thought.
No, it was a string they said. At least, a planned series, of which Lumbini Park and Gokul Chat had been successes. My heart was racing. Gokul Chat? That place in Koti you went to, every time, you picked up a text book, from across the street? It was the happiest place on a weekend evening! Colleges broke out, office half days got over, families stepped out - we were one of them. And often. In fact, everytime someone was in town, and they'd done the Charminar-Golconda-Salar Jung circuit, we'd drag them to Gokul Chat! You had to do a Gokul Chat on every trip to Hyd. And to the average Tamilian, who's only had poor substitutes to the original, Gokul was a life changing experience!
And then Lumbini. Remember when in class 8, the twenty of us had gotten together and 'hung out' at Lumbini, to give Niti and Namratha a farewell? We'd packed Chinese food from this little restaurant, and played there all day! And taken our first steps towards couple busting! How could they target Lumbini? It was just the place you'd find the extended Muslim families meeting up, for a nice evening out on Saturdays. The entrance is always teeming with hawkers, like in those large multi-stall exhibitions, they hardly have nowadays. And then the boat rides, over bad smelling Hussain Sagar. You had to take one to the Buddha statue, it was our very own equivalent of a ride to Statton Island. The other spots, I hear include Venkatagiri theatre. That's where they played hit Telugu movies, and you could always catch which one, in the morning's DC. And Dilsukhnagar. Ironic. The name speaks for itself.
It's a weird feeling. Hearing about the city you grew up in, being target to a bomb blast series. Suddenly you can empathise. Suddenly, you feel a stinging pain, and tears well up. It just can't be true. This doesn't happen in Hyderabad. This doesn't happen in happy places; in places where people go, to be happier. In places that offer the simplest joys of life - nothing makes the tummy feel nicer than a 12/- aloo chaat at Gokul's. Nothing is funner than the stark pink candy and the masala puri and the bhutta right outside Lumbini. Nothing is more liberating than the pav bhaji at Gokul's melting in your mouth. And nothing makes you freer than the wind whipping your hair on the boat ride at Lumbini.And then, perhaps not. Not anymore.
I want to stand up and scream. At everyone who thought up all this. I want to shake them till their last bone is rattled, and ask them how they feel now, post the half-baked success. I want them to tell me if they loved their chat and coal charred bhutta. I want them to relive little moments from the past, when they made visits to their Lumbinis, and Gokuls, wherever they may have been. It will be hard not to empathise. And when that does happen, it will be hard not to be heartbroken.

Perhaps ...

2007-06-18T20:12:00.000+05:30

I was just watching the "We the people" debate on India's first woman president in the running, Ms Pratibha Patil, and there was of course heated argument, the sort that is synonymous with such talk shows in today's news world. It did set me thinking on a few points though -

Firstly, are we subjecting her candidature to much more scrutiny, unabashed dissection, etc., simply because she is a woman? I am divided on this one - I think my excessive desire to know more about her stems partly from the fact that she is unknown to me, someone who devours mostly anything available on politcs; and partly because I am curious to know more about a woman who's managed to generate consensus at a time when the great Pranab Mukherjees and Arjun Singhs have failed.

Quite simply, the novelty of a low profile woman has made us more sceptical than we would like to admit. Ideally (and ironically), precedents have been extreme exceptions (Kalam) or psycophants.

Secondly, I wonder if we're judgmental, because we are elitist. Again, in this case, we wouldnt have debated the issue if it was an Arjun Singh, (for while still elitist, we would've simply surrendered to processes born out of dirty politics). However, here I find women talking about how Pratibha isn't your well-known literatti/social worker/prominent scientist/movie star even, but some non-descript lady from Maharashtra who also happens to have been minister, leader of opposition, qualified lawyer, and currently Governor of Rajasthan; all this mind you, with an untarnished political record. Isn't it then the beauty of democracy to see someone like her elevated to the highest post? I think in some sense, yes. I would, indeed, love to see a 5 time Panchayat elect become President by some vagues math calculation of votes. Why not? She is as qualified for the job (if not more, like in this case, given her experience) than a Hema Malini or an Indira Nooyi is.
Which brings me to my third point - about a woman President being a symbol of some sort, to Indian society at large. Sort of redundant, if you ask me, given the post itself if fairly powerless and quite symbolic. But does the woman behind the veil in Churu in interior Rajasthan look at her and feel like the world's gentler and more accepting because a woman heads her country, I think yes. Also, I think, even if this was just one woman, it's worth it.
So, in the larger scheme of things, a prospective woman President for this young democracy is a winner - historic, momentous, and worthy of a nation's endorsement.
Means mean a lot. And so we can debate endlessly about how she was desperately pulled out of the hat in the last minute - hardly gracious. We can talk about how she really is only a Congress loyalist, symbol of how psycophancy to the dynasty will always bear fruit, let's also remember that we don't know yet if Ms Patil is going to tow this very line. That she will be all that our judgmental minds have already made her out to be.
If nothing else, let's give her a chance. At least, even if we record another Congress pliant loyalist in the history books, it would've been a woman the first time round. And perhaps, that woman in Churu, will still benefit, in all blissful ignorance.

Over-reacting...

2007-06-13T10:58:00.000+05:30

...yesterday I was watching a seemingly harmless episode of the 'been around forver' Antakshari...previously on Zee, and now on Star, but still with the irrepressible Annu Kapoor as host...
Surprise! The famous "Deewane-Parwane-Afsane-Mastane" format was replaced. With guess what - North, East, West...and Central!
Wonder what happened to South...we don't play antakshari here...? we don't know the language, and wont be able to compete...don't know...but it sort of struck me as odd..
and may be i was a little too sensitive given the whole "Rajni-Amitabh" debate in the background...
But I think it's sort of wrong... agreed, harmless...but it didn't feel great...

Something is seriously wrong ...

2007-05-08T14:35:00.000+05:30

I don't know if I notice some things more, simply because I am older now, but it seems like the world just got a little too gory for me. There's something wrong about all the violence you read / hear about nowadays, you know. So?, you say. Violence IS on an upward curve! So?, you say. The media is going crazy about every thing - even the ant that harmed the fly. So?, you say. Newspaper headlines are unflaggingly morbid. (I wonder if the bookies have one on that). But it's not about all this.
It's something more. It's about crossing the line, if they ever drew one on the wrong side. It's about being more violent than there is a need for, however unjustified. It's about ceasing to be human, like never before.
As I write this, I think about the foetuses pulled out of raped bodies in Gujarat. About little kids being chopped up, their bones found floating down the drain. About innocent women who are retained along with accused husbands, and then beaten, raped and burnt. About forty year olds raping 3 year olds (yes, i am not quite sure how that's even technically possible). About unending deaths in custody. About being roasted in a Tandoor.
Surely there's something deeply wrong with us. Surely there's some unsatiated rage or dark desire that's pent up in us as a people. For, while it may be natural to be blinded by faith, it may be a passing passion to raise arms for that very same faith, and it may even mean in some contrived way that you can kill to protect it, I simply can't understand what would explain slashing out half formed babies from the bleeding wombs of dead mothers.
Indeed then, something with in us no longer exists.

And all I do is write ...

2007-01-08T22:46:00.000+05:30

There are many things about Nithari that send a shiver down the spine. That little children were the victims of indescribable torture stings and disgusts like nothing else. That the crime was perpetrated by proverbial trustworthy neighbourhood uncles further compounds this. That the perverted criminals proceeded to do unthinkable, grisly acts with the dead bodies leaves you in absolute disbelief. That the chief minister will not show support with his presence because of the supposed ‘jinx’ makes you sick with hatred. That he can dismiss it as “small, and (even more blasphemous) routine” breaks something inside you.

Is this the kind of world we live in? Does he not have a child of his own, and has he even stopped for a moment to absorb that it could’ve been his child? What will it take for some compassion or at least sympathy, or at the very least some pity from his side? This sort of incident leaves me feeling wretched and sick in the pit of my stomach.

So, there is a press release saying he might after all decide to go to Nithari. Like I care! F*** you, I want to say. Like those worried parents who currently probably feel like they’ve lost it all, care. I hope they stone the man, if any such effort is made at all, in the future.

Oddly, I think of Desperate Housewives – How much do we really know our neighbors? Every house has a story to tell. Hopefully, not every one of them is as gruesome.

What constitutes a safe environment to bring up a child? Not even something on the outskirts of the nation’s capital? Not even a place where the kids still meet and play together on the streets? Certainly not even ensuring your kid only talks to people he knows as family friends. No, definitely not.

So, what constitutes a vigilant justice system? One that suddenly throws up 800 prospetcive kids missing in the vicinity of this horrible crime? One that wakes up years after crime and fires 2-3 insignificant policemen? One whose head dismisses countless tales of abuse and murder as small and routine?

I want to be a pessimist. You can show me how several Supreme court lawyers have visited the families and offered their support in fighting litigations, for perhaps, the first time. You can show me how the resident’s association has come together and is raising it’s voice without apparent bias, with clear objectives, and well-placed anger. You can tell me this is perhaps the next time the nation is going to rise in collective anger, in the post Jessica Lal era.
I simply don’t care. A muted ye! is all I can manage.

For nothing will restore my faith. The enemy was in my own backyard – the police taking no stock is small and routine, perhaps; but what was I doing? Was I wrong in placing fundamental trust in those who inhabited my neighbourhood? Was I naïve to not expect someone who lived 2 houses away to kidnap my son and abuse him, and then bury him in a sack 2 feet further away? Was I plain stupid to not raise a hue and cry when even an FIR wouldn’t be registered, however much I begged? Was I oblivious to my neighbour’s misfortune till my own went missing? What is it in me that refuses to wake up, unless the loss is my own?

What is it in me that restricts my bravest, strongest reaction to writing a piece of literature in anger? Indeed, I do feel sick in the pit of my stomach.

Why the IIM MBA works...

2006-12-31T02:46:00.000+05:30

Forever, we have heard the arguments on why the Indian MBA is glorious because of the job opportunities it provides, or why it is terribly flawed because it admits freshers.I have been at various times, on both sides of the argument. And finally, I feel I am able to offer a stronger argument for why the fresher MBA is a boon to the average Indian student.Of course, one can quickly point out that I belong to this category, for I went to IIMA, having graduated in Engineering, from BITS Pilani.To this end, I must say at the outset, that it is indeed my view, biased as it may be. And may I add, that I donot deny the several merits of the MBA post work experience.
So, I was contemplating when I was 17, about majoring in Advertising or Marketing. I know of several friends who thought similarly of Finance. However, the reason why most of us still pursued the glorious "one size fits all" engineering course is the following -
- Parental pressure, as you may call it, to this day, in most Indian families deigns that the BE is a natural progression after Sciences in class 12
- It is the course with the most seats on offer, making the odds more favorable- Most importantly
- Most people look around and find there is really no quality Business Program at the Under-grad level, and decide to come to it after the BE
- The knowledge that the IIMs are biased towards picking a largely engineering class is the icing, though that is somewhat a chicken and egg issue
All valid reasons, to my mind, and mostly advantageous. An engineering course is 4 years, of which at least 2 are flexibly designed in most colleges, to allow students to pursue diverse interests. A small digression - for those purists who believe this is abominable, for engineering is a highly specialised course, I'd like to point out how most students today use Engineering courses as a tool to build strong analytical and problem solving skills, and a stepping stone to more opportunity to challenging studies - be it the MS or PhD or MBA. And I see nothing wrong with such an agreeeable end.
Coming back to the MBA that follows the BE: At the end of 4 years, people are either frantically pursuing the CAT coaching, or the GRE version. So, why does someone pick up the MBA at this stage?
- It's available, and a lucrative option, for starters
- It's a great course (IIMs) and in an area of interest to most people giving the exam

So, the perception is indeed true that in India, the MBA is looked at as an extension of school, and another course to extend the portfolio, instead of a year of networking, and sharing of business learnings from a live environment.My answer to this is, why not? May be it's a misnomer. Call the MBA what you want, just another Finance / Marketing / Starategy course rolled into one? Fine. All I know is that it serves the purpose. A quality course like that from the IIMs teaches you well, and gets you a good job.

So, the IIM MBA fetches the same jobs as one from Harvard or Wharton? Not entirely.When you join a top notch investment bank or Consulting firm, straight out of one of the Ivy Leagues, you're taken in as Associate / Consultant ranking = ~3 years into the firm, at about 27-28.

When you join the same firm with an under grad degree, you're an absolute fresher, starting at the very bottom at year 1. You're likely 21. When you join one of these firms from an IIM, likely you're given the advantage of an MBA, but the disadvantage of no work ex, and so you end up somewhere in the middle- 2nd year Analyst (1 year into the firm) or 3rd year analyst (2 years into the firm).To my mind, it's a fair deal, as long as you're given a bit of both, the deal for a quality program, and the cut back for the lack of experience. But most people tend to overlook this.

Move on to the new era now. Over the past 2 years, the number of Associate offers made to IIM graduates has steadily risen. This turns the theory on its head? Not quite. A couple of factors drive this -- Not every bank / consult has done it yet...it's just the beginning- Likely, only the banks that employ for the markets can do this, primarily because the skill increment from one level to another is relatively lower- These offers are still largely made to students with some work experience; however, this year has been the big difference - Associate offers to fresh students

That last bit really does change the story. So at 23, you could, out of an IIM potentially be doing what a Harvard grad could get to at 28. And why not? Who cares how you or I define the MBA! The markets jobs look for specific skill sets they find ideal in your average engineering background under grad Indian, and they're willing to bet on him to see it through.So, purely in terms of NPV, the IIM offer is tempting. Oh yeah, you can count in the millions saved in fees.
More importantly to my mind, in the way the Indian job scene works currently, the IIM degree is your best shot at a supposedly "high-flying" job, from India, primarily because like I said earlier, no quality Business programs are on offer at the under grad level.

So, let's set aside the I-Banks and consults. What about a regular MNC offering multidimensional managerial roles. My argument here is that most of these firms recruit for their India offices. These have tailor made programs to absorb the average fresher MBA, and are designed keeping him in mind. The ascent is desgined to be for someone straight out of school, and woth no work experience - that has traditionally been their pool, and they're quite happy about it! So who exactly complaining?!

Bottom line - Comparing the Indian MBA to the Ivy-league is not really apples to apples. And at the end of the day, in wither case, the ends seem to well justify the means.

Of course, this piece doesn't entirely capture all the points I hope to make. And perhaps, I will follow it up, with more constructive arguments to support the same. However, it does contain some facts, and attempts to offer perspective. And in the end, it really is quite from the horse's mouth!

So long, ol' humor!

2006-10-18T13:25:00.000+05:30

I don't quite know if this is a recent phenomenon. But I have definitely encountered it more in recent times than before.
I thought I could laugh most at anything. I am the cheerful sort, can see the humorous side, more often than not, and love my daily laughter dose. It invariably comes from various sources - a funny sight, an unexpected blunder, a well put sarcastic comeback someone offered, ridiculously dressed folks on the street, a couple of well written lines in a book, and so on.Somehow I feel increasingly, my humor though not depleted, stems from a single source - sarcasm. Whatever be the context, I find everyone's comebacks in a sarcastic tone are the only jokes that ever do the rounds. And somewhere between laughing, and marveling at the clever minds behind them, it has begun to hurt, just a little bit. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like they were all retorts to something I said. I am still quite a sport.
But there's something about sarcastic humor that doesn't always go well with me. For one, most often it becomes a one-upmanship game. Invariably, it upsets someone at some point in time. Worst, I feel, because it is so closely tied to being smart / clever, other forms of humor pale in comparison, and are hence dying a slow death. In other words, there is not so much glamor left in the other forms.
It is sad, but increasingly, among us twenty something smart ones, getting back with crisp, one-liners that are "oh! so cool!" is hip. Whatever happened to good ol' jovial, harmless, good natured humor?

Restless...

2006-08-16T23:15:00.000+05:30

Boy, these times when words come out in a burst. It’s palpable…you’re in a rush, a thousand things are running amuck in your head,a nd you’re scared it’s about to explode. That isn’t figurative by the way – there comes a day when you truly feel it.

The restlessness can make you want to slap the first person you make eyes with. You grab that notebook, and begin keying it all in…your fingers fly, you don’t see typing errors, you produce absolutely disorganised pieces or writing, and yet, nothing’s enough.

Suddenly you remember how strongly you felt about that brilliant girl who was denied admission at a prestigious school, and your blood begins to boil. Then you remember a that touching conversation with a friend you spoke to many months later, cos you’ve just gotten yourself a new life. The sigh – you can almost hear it! You’d promised to record that for later.
The big wide reservation debate, 59 years of independence, the power of communication (America’s biggest weapon – Thank you for smoking, ma friend!).

And then you’re filled with a frustration – why am I never more organised? Why can’t I make time for the things I feel so strongly about? Do I just don’t feel enough? Am I letting other people guide my life too much? For example, why do I shop every weekend, when at the back of my mind, I think I want to be sitting down and writing. Will there be a day when I feel confident about a zillion things to be truly impulsive and spontaneous? Will there be a day when I stop feeling like a fake cos I am always volunteering for a 1000 things and never doing anything concrete on the ground? Will typing out all that I feel about myself and what I want to do at breakneck speed make it all a little clearer, make me want to do something about it all? Will something just snap, and release this energy and jolt me into action? But to act on what? To do what ? to be passionate about what? To give up this life of chaos for what?
And we’re back to square one.

Collection B...

2006-08-16T23:03:00.000+05:30

So, armed with my first pay cheque, I resolved to make one of those dreams come true. Thoughts that had motivated me to do one extra exercise in Class 9. Petty? Well, who says they weren’t at 14!
I decided to start my classic book collection. My mind conjured my the familiar wooden shelves one atop the other, neatly stacked with books in their complete series – the 6 terms of Malory Towers and St Clares, all the best sellers who ever walked the New York times – the Grishams, the Sheldons, Archers, despite the snide ‘poor taste’ remarks…the Indian classics – Seths, Rushdies, RK Narayans, Suketu Mehta, etc, etc….the comic strips…Calvin and Hobbs, may be even a few Archies…the classics…ok, stop muttering Pride & Prejudice…that still is my top favourite!, well, add to it the Huckleberry Finns, Tom Sawyers, Tale of two cities, …fine, so they really aren’t the same genre, but they’re still one cheap paperback option!

So, thus my collection grows – randomly and in every direction! There are the fat Suitable boys in Maximum city; the ‘can recognise cross eyed’ famous classics paperbacks, and the incomplete years at Malory towers…and they’re growing by the minute.
Boy, is it a joy, to buy and own and re-read those very books you borrowed for Rs. 1.5/week from the local neighbourhood, and longed to ‘lose’ and never return!

I read really slowly - haven’t gotten through more than 2.5 of the 12 books I have begun my collection with. But then , I didn’t really buy my Tom Sawyers to read it in one night – I’ve done that several times over in classes 6, 7 , 9 and 12…I just wanted to own it the next time I read it; I just needed to pick it off my very own rack.

...

2006-08-16T23:02:00.000+05:30

Sometimes I am just ashamed at the fact that I haven’t written about the most eventful moments of my life – the time I got my first big job, the time I started being with the love of my life, the time I moved to live in a foreign country for a bit, the time I stayed in my first five star hotel, the time I first began to fly twice a week from twice in 10 years, the time I’ve been the loneliest with absolutely no one to talk to, however much I wanted to, the time I visited my first cabaret show, the time I saw opportunities I believe motivated me in every goal, fall at my feet…well…and these were the best and worst of times……

And I wonder… the busiest times bring out in us the need to multitask like never before…when I had never studied enough, never knew enough for the impending test was when I religiously updated my blog….and now, in spite of the busy life, my loneliness leaves me with a lot of time, and yet I don’t write…I don’t make an effort to learn new things, I don’t see myself going out and getting ‘em things I thought I’d fought to have for a lifetime. In short.

It’s ironic, and yet what’s even more ironic is the fact that you never wake up to the irony.

No kids on the block?

2006-04-23T13:00:00.000+05:30

The easiest thing to do when you read this would be to label me the one who speaks thus " These children nowadays I tell you! In our times..." But I do hope to convey and wash off at least a tenth of the horror I felt this morning as I watched this episode of some Confidence Champion contest.

First off, one's greeted by a non-bearded Derek, simply quite not the energetic, fatherly, quiz master we grew up watching. BUt that's besides the point. The program he currently hosts seeks to identify confidence champions, kids who're supremely confident of their abilities and many other things. But again, all this is besides the point.

The sample on display is 10 kids in the age group of 6 - 13, I am guessing, who come forth and state many achievements and answer questions with aplomb, as it may seem to some. In one of the many commercial breaks that relentlessly sting these programs, one is left wondering if you were indeed watching a children's show. For there are kids who come up, all of 9 years old, and standing tall and wax eloquent thus - " I was 2 when I first picked up a violin. And I fell in love with the feel of the strings on my fingers. " My, my!

And then there is this kid who is questioned in jest, about the cap he's wearing. He takes it off to show a tonsured head, and begins a minute long monologue with “Superstition has become an integral part of the Indian society. It's mostly women, in my family, my mother and Ba, who are superstitious. The men never are." Hail stereotypes!

There are these kids who when asked why they picked chess to b world champions under 10, or why karate to be black belts at age 10 who never seem to think of fun. Am I being judgmental? Well, may be. But I wish they would'nt walk into a confidence champion contest and spout " Nothing gives you more confidence than Karate or I am confident of winning this because it is only confidence and dedicated effort that made me win the XYZ Nationals. You may have immense talent but without confidence, you are going nowhere." Anything else would do!

I used to think when I was in school that we recycled the patriotic mumbo jumbo a little too much. You know, I want to be a doctor and serve the poor in abc district, because I think the country needs me. Or, I want to go into the armed services (courtesy Border?) and be of service to the country. Or the worst, I want to do an MBA and get into policy making for India in the government.

Fine fine. I think the last one, luckily for me, I didn't think up in school. A little later perhaps. But you can't blame me for stretching it here, ladies and gentlemen. After all, I live in constant fear of the earth being taken over by a species with no child left in him. And none around either, to keep the sanity going.

PS: The latest buzz in education – The MTI course to improve the communication skills of those who feel burdened with the Influence of the Mother Tongue on their English speaking skills. To drive the point home, the journalist picked up a quote from a 12 year old, and this is what he had to say – “ I felt humiliated when a friend corrected me for saying “pizeon” instead of “pigeon” at school. That was when I decided I needed to do something about it and it was time to take this course.” Sigh.

Fire burning...

2006-04-13T15:30:00.000+05:30

There is so much to write about these days...
the sinful holiday that lasted a month and served up beaches, palaces, temples, hills, oceans, templs and more beaches!
the convocation where i wore those flowing black gowns and was denied a hat to throw into the air beacuse i was to only end up a diploma holder:(
the whole crazy debate on reservations for the BCs, OBCs, MBCs, and whoever else you manage to classify...
this fascinating piece of information on how the BCCI is giving away 50 cr for development of other sports in the country and the 10000 predictions on what the government could possibly do with that money...
the chinkaras turnng in their graves while bare bodied and empty headed actors strut about casually...
these steamy comments my friends drop generously and set me thinking and making mental notes to blog a 1000 words on...
and well, just for the happy writing days!

And yet, I am clocking miserably on the frequency front on this page...:(
yes, yes, time to redeem...time to redeem...