Apni Strategic Paathshala

To 'mini' and 'basanti': You asked me what I was writing, and here it is. I'd considered whether I should put it up on my blog or not, but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been true to myself


There is a famous question that I had read somewhere. Have you ever seen dogs run after speeding cars? Well, the question is this: 'In case the dog manages to catch up with the car, what the hell would it do?'

The question should not elicit a mere laugh as response. The answer has deeper implications. For example, it is often said that is easier for a country's opposition party to sit back and criticize the policies of the ruling party rather than actually take reins of the country.

Similar allegations are made at students when they question, argue or shout and complain about the methodology of lectures. "So, you think are an authority on the subject, do you?" and "You think you can do a better job?" are some of the questions that one is faced with.

With all due respect (where none is due), yours truly is certainly not a canine who relishes chasing speeding cars. I believe in strength, similar to that of a lion. If a lion isn't bothered about a car in the forest, it wouldn't care two hoots about a car that passed within 10 yards of itself. But if the occupants of the car happen to annoy the lion, you can be rest assured your car will be smashed off the dirt track.

To the questions that have been put forth...No, dear sir, I am not a pundit on any subject, but then, neither are you. Absolutely NOBODY can be a pundit when one speaks about lectures on business (which yours truly has the pleasure of attending). And to the other question of whether I can do better, of course I can. Here's what I would do rather than conduct a strategic management class where the first 20 minutes of the class are reserved for a detailed 'academic' presentation (done by 2 students) and the rest of the class is a monologue by the professor. During this, the poor student who has paid for the lecture either SMSes his friend who is sitting at the other end of the lecture hall, or day-dreams about his/her boyfriend/girlfriend, or even worse, sleeps.

Of course, there will be that one mad student who will write about how he proposes to conduct a strategic management class and plans to put it up on his blog.

Well, here's the plan...

1. Bring in photocopies of any case study relevant to strategic management. Preferably, the case should be Indian, and (for Heaven's sake) RECENT. Who is interested in the problems faced by a company 3 decades back? There is absolutely NO relevance of such cases in today's dynamic and liberalized Indian economy.

2. Give the students 10 minutes to read the case. (Better than giving it to the students beforehand; in any case, the case is either read during the class or hurriedly opened 15 minutes before the lecture)

3. Form a random group of students, ask them to do a role play (CEO, Board of Directors, etc.) and form policies. Time limit: 30 minutes.

4. List down what was discussed. Ask the other students to comment/contribute/debate these issues. Let it go on for another half an hour. Get the maximum feedback from as many students as possible. [Philosophy: Students know a lot by themselves; the responsibility lies with the faculty to get the best out of them.]

5. Speak for the last 15 minutes. All the 'bhashan' about theory should be limited to this section only. Make the students realise that though things in the corporate world appear fragmented and is more touch-and-go, underlying it is a strong presence of theory.

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Another idea would be to allocate role-play earlier, for example, student A as Lakshmi Mittal, student B as Aditya Mittal, and student C as Joseph Kinsch. Now, let them come to the class prepared with the case. That will ensure that they don't talk nonsense in the name of Strategy. Let them hammer out the details and the different viewpoints of the Mittal-Arcelor deal. That is current news, dude, not about some fish that died in 1979.

(I'm not an arrogant git and would obviously welcome any comments, feedback or improvements upon the method suggested. Again, there are many competent professors of strategy out there, and I would be more than happy to know how strategy management classes are conducted by them. The most favorite option would obviously be to forget about the whole deal and move on without commenting. You're welcome to do that too. No sweat.)

Excerpts

I've just returned from an interesting one hour long discussion with Anil Sir, our librarian. As the co-ordinator of the Book Club of the Institute, it has been an added advantage for me to get sound bites from a heavy set man who has wonderful ideas about books and academics. Truly, talks with him are extremely thought provoking. Often it happens that I enter his cabin thinking that I'll have a short conversation with him, but somehow we always end up discussing academics, student life, entrepreneurship and business philosophies, and obviously, these discussions go on for much longer than a short 15 minute chat.

And as we chatted today, I made a short reference to two interesting excerpts from speeches that I'd attended. Interestingly, I had also blogged about the first lecture.

This was a speech by Mr. Sam Pitroda. During his speech, he mentioned an extremely interesting anecdote. It so happened that he was invited to represent India at some European conference where various countries were brainstorming how to develop a 'Silicon Valley' for Europe. After a few speakers had spoken, it was Mr. Pitroda's turn. He walked up to the podium and said "In my humble opinion, I do not think that there is any possibility of a Silicon Valley here". The stunned audience asked him for a reason. To their further surprise, Sam Pitroda said that the reason was right in front of their eyes. He asked the people to take a look around them and observe the people who were attending the conference. "Each one of them," he told us, "was wearing a similar shirt, had short-cropped hair, wore either a black or blue suit, neat trousers and shining black leather shoes. Where's the innovation? Where's the differentiator? Who's going to break the mould? If only there were someone who had a pony-tail, had worn a simple t-shirt, ragged worn-out jeans and sneakers, it would have been heart-warming for we would have known 'Here is the man who isn't afraid of thinking out of the box, someone who's not afraid of being the exception'."

The other excerpt is more recent, and, I dare say, more interesting. During our regional SIFE presentation, one of the judges was an Australian. He comes to the mike and in his typical Australian accent, starts off by saying..."This is the first time I'm here and it has been a wonderful experience looking at all the talent that the students have brought to the field of social work....(Pause)....I hope you guys have been able to understand what I'm saying...(looks around at the audience with a smile)...Yeah!! I know...I'm Australian...we speak funny, but we play good cricket!!"

Snubbed, but enjoying the pride of the avid Australian cricket fan, the audience burst out into applause. :)

Balle balle

Well, it is 4 in the morning, and I have a lecture tomorrow at 11. And going by the number of hours that I can now manage to sleep, I'd better hit the bed soon. But again, even though I wanted to just drop dead, I couldn't resist the urge to post about a victory.

Hey, do you remember when I wrote about the SIFE competition being one of the things I was worried about? Well, that took place on 17th and 18th of June, i.e. over the last weekend. The competition took place in Mumbai.

Well, the first day was a regional round, where 4 teams were to be chosen from 17. And guess what?? Our NIRMA SIFE team was adjudged the regional winners!! Yahoo!!

Not only did this mean we'd done one better than our senior batch (they'd been runners-up at the regional level the previous year), but also that we'd be participating the next day in the National Finals.

Saturday night was when our 5 member team really put in a lot of effort. We were awake till 5 in the morning, aware of the fact that we had to leave the hotel at 8. However, we were just so excited that we kept on going over the PowerPoint presentation over and over again, making changes here and there, discussing possible questions and also the financials of the business plan that we'd thought up for the sustainability of an effort to help a co-operative movement of the farmers of Gujarat.

The finals was a keenly fought competition at The Hyatt. It was a day long affair, and featured the best in the business. The 12 member group of judges were CEOs, HR heads and CFOs representing Syntel, Reliance (Anil Dhirubhai Ambani group), HSBC, HDFC, Monsanto, Diageo and others. Our team definitely felt the jitters as well as the excitement of competing at the national level.

And it paid off...

(from left: Sonal Singh, Mithun Shah, Kushan Jasani [standing in the background], me, Ketul Sir [our faculty guide], Jyotika Agarwal and Sneha Goenka)

We were adjudged the National Runners-up. And boy, was it a great feeling!!

Talk about starting the academic year with a bang.

I want to fly

‘Ma, can I fly?’

‘Not yet, dear. You are too young to fly. Wait for a few days more.’

‘But Ma, why am I still so young?’

‘Well, your wings still aren’t developed enough…they do not have the strength to keep you in air for long. Besides, what do you want to fly so soon for?’

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ observed the baby bird. ‘Dad flies. I’ve seen him flying ever since I’ve opened my little eyes. He makes it look so easy. You both make it look so easy. Please, can I have a try?’

‘Not yet, o young one. Don’t be so impatient.’

‘But Ma, I want to…’

‘You are yet unaware of the dangers of flight, son. The world isn’t as safe as it seems to you. The nest in which you’ve grown up is but a safe haven for you to grow up in. It is in no way comparable to the world outside. What’s more, you can’t fly yet’

‘And who says I can’t fly?’

Mother bird let out a pearl of laughter.

‘How impatient you are…just like your father. Look, here he comes.’

‘What is it? You seem to be amused.’

Baby bird began even before his Ma could speak.

‘I want to fly and Ma says no. Everybody says no. They say it is not right, that I must practice and fly with everyone.’

‘And you don’t feel that is correct, do you?’

‘NO! How will I ever know whether I know how to fly or not if you do not even let me try?’

‘But you have been practicing, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, but that too under tutelage. Listen, dear father, I know I haven’t mastered the skills yet. I know you are worried about me…perhaps even more than Ma is…yet you remain quiet and thoughtful. You know I always wanted to be like you. Why not let me go?’

The wise old bird smiled.

‘You are growing up quickly, my son. You have the courage, not only to fly out into the world, but also to fly in the face of what others call ‘conventional wisdom’. I’m glad for you. You are indeed a special child. Not only have you survived a difficult childhood, but you seem to have been chosen for a great future.’

‘But how can you say that? The others call my remarks and pranks as foolish and childish. What makes you certain it isn’t so?’

‘Who, in this petty life, hasn’t been criticized or ridiculed? The difference lies in their response. I chose a certain path. And you seem to be prepared to choose a path which only you can see. Remember, do not do what others think right for you to do; they aren’t the ones who live out the consequences. Do what seems correct to you. By no means do I suggest that you don’t take a word from the wise, but your life’s decisions are but your own. It is you who will regret or congratulate yourself later.’

‘And what of those who call me foolish?’

The old bird smiled yet again.

‘Only time and destiny shall answer whether you were foolish or courageous.’

‘Now really!!’ interjected Mama bird, ‘You don’t mean to say you’re giving him the permission to fly?’

‘No, I am not. All I’m telling him is to follow his heart…showing him a path not explored by many. Whether he walks down the oft trodden path or the more adventurous (and hence, more dangerous) one, is entirely his decision.’

‘You’re right, father. My heart tells me there is yet some time left…but my hour shall certainly come…’

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The days flew by.

And then, one day, the baby bird, now a beautiful adult with brilliant long feathers, flew out into the open. The bird flew into troublesome winds at first, but soon it seemed to have mastered the challenges. And even as the rest of the flock flew together and doubted the young bird’s decision to fly in a hitherto unknown direction, the young bird knew that he had achieved something the others could only dream of…he had gone out and made a piece of the sky his own.

Yaarana

I'm just like any other human being. Writing my blog, publishing it on the net and seeing people appreciate it feels great. In fact, there could be nothing more wonderful than logging onto the Net and finding comments on your post. And, sometimes like a greedy gut, I call up or message friends to tell them about a new post, so that they may immediately tell me whether they like it or not. (I've even asked a friend to read an entire post while I waited on an STD call to gauge whether she liked my latest effort.)

The last time when I called up a friend and screamed 'New post', she immediately logged onto my blog, and her first reaction at 'The Movie Freak' was...."Hey bhagwaan, itna lamba post....lagta hai Sayesha ki aadat lag gayi tujhe bhi.' He he he he.. :D

Anyway, this ain't some post about how I've yet again changed my desktop wallpaper, which till the time dad was here a few days ago, was adorned with either Shiv ji or with JRD (yes, that how big a fan I am of that guy). Nor is this a record about the books/movies/songs that I've read/seen/heard in the last few days/hours/minutes. [For the record, however, this cyber cafe, notorious for playing songs by screaming pink-haired guys, is playing 'Nahin saamne' from Taal. God bless the guy who's keeping a tab on the music player.]

This is a post about returning to Nirma Institute of Management. This is a post to tell the world how happy I am to return home, in a sense. Over the past year, Ahmedabad has become like a second home. And I'm absolutely looking forward to meeting pals like Basanti, Sam, Shubbu, Tusshi, Mini, Chamku and Kota. Without them, the management classes would've meant death by boredom, and weekends would've turned into quiet days which had forgotten the meaning of laughter, smiles, tensions and worries.

Love you guys, and looking forward to another rocking year at Nirma. Cheerio.

And to all those who have patiently borne reading my blog all this while, you sure can look forward to more posts once I return to my 24x7 internet-connection wala room at the boys hostel. And yes, tussi bhi mere great friend ho. Kasam se. :)

The movie freak

Only a few hours separate me from wishing a soft 'Goodbye' to the CNBC TV18 offices here in Lower Parel, Mumbai. The summer project is almost over, the field work is done, only the tabulation of data and the final project report now remain to be prepared.

My regional boss seems to be glad to get rid of a vegetarian, non-smoking - non-drinking summer trainee like me who quietly sipped his Coke, while the other colleagues greedily eyed their pitchers of beer when the boss gave a treat at a pub. "What a waste!!", the guys would say at the office canteen when my onion uttapam would arrive, while they ravenously polished off their butter chicken. "Actually," my boss remarked, "you would've done much better had you had your summer training at Varanasi instead of Mumbai. Much better for a guy like you." "But why Varanasi? I hear Hardwar is equally pleasant at this time of the year," I retorted.

(But of course, I must hasten to add that my boss is really a nice sorta fellow. Well, you see, I'm yet to receive my stipend for the last two months, so...)

So, I just sit back and type away to glory after having accompanied another colleague for a smoke to the smoking area behind the canteen. While he puffed away on his Gold Flake, I sipped my coffee while shyly stealing glances at the beautiful girls in their colorful tees and jeans who'd taken a breather from their work to recount to their friends how they'd been "Like sooooo drunk at xxx's party" (the triple 'x' was unintentional, and therefore, doesn't beg any untoward attention).

Back in the office area, I sit back on the chair which I've maroed from the neighbouring cubicle (Really!! When will these large companies be able to make an inventory of the no. of people in their offices and get the adequate no. of chairs?) and think back on the last 2 months at Mumbai.

Let not the reader of this post be under the impression that I while away time day-dreaming and introspecting in a professional capacity; it is just that I wait for my boss to make a reappearance, the gentleman having left for some field work where duty calls.

Hence, while I have the opportunity to bore the reader to death, let me gladly grab this opportunity with both hands and proceed to recount some of the wonderful movies that I have seen during my stay.

Well, what shall I say....I AM A MOVIE FREAK !!

And the summer internship was a great time to catch up on movies. DVD wallahs at the Andheri station have made a killing, and I find myself the proud owner of movies ranging from Lethal Weapon to Pakeezah.

A few weeks ago, I'd intended to write about the time I saw "Madhumati". Those of you who just went "Whaaaa??" really need to educate yourself about the time Dilip Kumar ruled the roost in the Hindi film industry. And like I found out, the most haunting tunes that you might have often unknowingly hummed yourself happen to be from that movie. Remember "Aaja re pardesi" by Lata Mangeshkar; or "Suhana safar aur yeh mausam haseen" by Mukesh, for that matter? Yes sir. Madhumati is the movie where you'll find these gems embedded. There are a number of other tunes too, but you must watch the movie to enjoy 'em.

Then of course, I watched the Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts romantic comedy, "Notting Hill". I absolutely love this movie, in spite of all the "masculine" adrenaline-pumping movies that I continue to enjoy at the same time. I went the complete movie-buff way and made myself some Act II popcorn at home while watching the movie for the umpteenth time, and once again found myself appreciating the beauty of Julia Roberts (Mini, like many others before her, has recommended that I finally watch "Pretty Woman"). And if you haven't seen "Notting Hill" till now, go watch it...if only to hear the beauty of the simple lines "I'm also just a girl...standing in front of a boy...asking him to love me". Songs like "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone" and "You say it best, when you say nothing at all" make it all the more worthwhile watching the movie (don't miss out on how the entire song "Ain't no sunshine..." seems to be a single shot and how well a passage of 10-12 months is shown in a matter of a few seconds).

And finally, the BIG DADDY of films is here. "The Godfather" is a movie which has captured my imagination ever since I read the book by Mario Puzo. The book is absolutely fabulous, and those of you who would've read it would know about the brilliant character portrayal of Don Corleone. The dark, brooding intensity of the film can captivate any silent observer and transport him/her into the world of the Corleone family. And also, there is the haunting background music which refuses to be shut out of my mind. Even as I tried to, someone's mobile phone in the office rang, and guess what?? The ring tone was the same signature Godfather tune. And that is what led me to write this post. Go, for heaven's sake, and watch the Godfather trilogy. Even if you didn't know that it was Sofia Coppola (the daughter of Francis Ford Coppola) who played Michael Corleone's daughter in Godfather Part III, you must make it a point to watch ALL three parts, for it is an education in film-watching.

Where am I?

Uneasy is what I am. REAL uneasy.

Why?

Well, my senses are confused. I'm listening to a fun song that reminds me of her ('Ek nazar mein bhi pyar hota hai', it is from the movie...err...can't remember the name, that John Abraham-Nana Patekar movie. Seriously, I've lost all hope, so completely not in touch with Bollywood.) By the time I finished trying to remember the name of the movie and typing the above, there's already another song which is playing... 'Teri Deewani' by Kailash Kher. Again, this makes me feel homesick all the more...'she' had dedicated this song to me, not too long ago.

All right, so why exactly are my senses confused?

Well, I've spent the whole day sleeping. And the reason why I've been away from blog world is also related.

An Uncle had a mild heart attack a week ago, after which he was shifted to the Lilavati Hospital. Though his condition improved considerably, the doctors realised that 3 of his arteries were blocked and that a bypass surgery was necessary. Dad flew in from Calcutta on Sunday night and yesterday we spent the entire day at the hospital. Only at around 8:30 in the evening we got to know that the operation went off successfully.

But, the day wasn't over yet. Earlier in the day, I got a call from a batchmate from Nirma. Another friend from Nirma had been hospitalised and someone needed to spend the night at the hospital. I volunteered after asking Dad, and he said 'Cool'. Seems like I have the Lord's blessings around me...the night went off peacefully (although it was a most uncomfortable chair that I slept in), and the friend was to be discharged from hospital today. Moreover, Baby Aish is doing fine. :D

Ok, that is the part which comes under the 'Great News' title.

Now for the more worrying part of my life, which I would've done better by not unloading here, but what the heck...

(To those who aren't used to my ways, I ALWAYS like to make a list of my troubles/worries. At times, they just allow me to realise that I do not have as many problems I'd originally thought I have. Also, they're helpful in strategising what I should do in order to get over these problems.)

1. Work

Ok, work has piled on. There's quite a lot of office work that needs to be completed before I leave Mumbai. Also, the project report needs to be prepared to give to the bosses and powers-that-be at CNBC. Obviously, the report should not let anyone know about the serious stupidity-bouts that I suffer from. And THAT is a mammoth task in itself.

2. SIFE

There is this competition for which I got selected from my institute. I need to co-ordinate with 4 other batchmates for this contest, and they are currently at Mumbai, Ahmedabad, Calcutta and Bangalore. And there's tonnes of work to be done, since this is an international competition, and in case we crack the all-India finals, we'll be headed to Paris.

3. Some problem which I can do nothing about but just mentally prepare myself. Hence, I won't write about it. Way too personal, folks.

I do hope I get cracking about my problems soon.

Mom and Me

By the way, here's another one of my all time favorite pic. That's me Mommy teaching the dude to walk.

P.S. Notice the stuff in the show-cases behind? Those are the toys I played with and I still have ALL of them. :D

Nobody's perfect.

Nobody's perfect.

I'm nobody

You've surely read this on a T-shirt before. And if you haven't... well, now you've read it anyway.

I have no idea where this quote popped into my head from. And yet somehow, it kicked off a toy-train of thoughts in my mind:

Of course, the quote makes sense. It's not about being conceited; just a witty expression of confidence.

But at a deeper level...

NOBODY is PERFECT

Of course, every individual is different, and so, nobody is like me. So, how could I ever call someone 'perfect' ? There could be 'good', 'nice' or 'awesome' people, but not 'perfect'.

I am NOBODY

Obviously. I'm me. Nobody can predict 'me', nobody can be 'me'. And, as far as I'm concerned, I'm PERFECT. Of course there are blemishes in me, but that is precisely what makes the perfect me. :D

Know what is funny about the human mind? It can think a hell of a lot of rubbish stuff in very very little time. For example? The enitre semi-philosophical debate took place in my chotu sa dimaag within a grand total of 60 seconds of waking up today morning.

And then? I thought to myself "Abbe dhakkan, savere savere aur kuch kaam nahin hai kya? Chal chal, kaam pe chal...

Indian on the Moon

It is not everytime that I laugh when someone refers to the Reservation issue, but just couldn't help myself when I read this:

Manmohan Singh to Bush – We are sending Indians to the moon next year.

Bush – Wow! How Many?

Manmohan Singh - 100

25 - OBC
25 - SC
20 - ST
5 - Handicapped
5 - Sports Persons
5 - Terrorist Affected
5 - Kashmiri Migrants
9 - Politicians.........

and if possible 1 – Astronnaut

Express yourself

I haven't yet expressed what I feel about the reservation issue on this blog. Today, I intend to break the silence, and I promise I'll write again about the issue.

But today, it is about the mail that I received. Of course, many of you must have been receiving mails that contain requests to go join a a protest march, a candle demonstration, mails with pics of protesting students, SMSes telling you how many people have been protesting, how many have been on a fast unto death, how many fainted and how many have been tortured by the police. However, the mail that I received today was a bit different. It just contained a link, and all it takes for one to get enraged is to read the entire interview of Arjun Singh by Karan Thapar.

Here is the link.

Personally, these were the interesting moments:

"Karan Thapar: Do you personally also, as Minister of Human Resource Development , believe that reservations is the right and proper way to help the OBCs?

Arjun Singh: Certainly, that is one of the most important ways to do it.

Karan Thapar: The right way?

Arjun Singh: Also the right way.

Karan Thapar: In which case, lets ask a few basic questions; we are talking about the reservations for the OBCs in particular. Do you know what percentage of the Indian population is OBC? Mandal puts it at 52 per cent, the National Sample Survey Organisation at 32 per cent, the National Family and Health Survey at 29.8 per cent, which is the correct figure?

Arjun Singh: I think that should be decided by people who are more knowledgeable. But the point is that the OBCs form a fairly sizeable percentage of our population."

Herein, one sees the complete ignorance of the minister. But wait, he goofs up further by immediately following up with this...

"Karan Thapar: No doubt, but the reason why it is important to know 'what percentage' they form is that if you are going to have reservations for them, then you must know what percentage of the population they are, otherwise you don't know whether they are already adequately catered in higher educational institutions or not.

Arjun Singh: That is obvious - they are not.

Karan Thapar: Why is it obvious?

Arjun Singh: Obvious because it is something which we all see."

Duh ?!! Dude, is it precise answers like these that made you the minister for Human Resource Development of this great country?

"Karan Thapar: Minister, it is not just in terms of 'need' that your critics question the decision to have reservation for OBCs in higher education. More importantly, they question whether reservations themselves are efficacious and can work.

For example, a study done by the IITs themselves shows that 50 per cent of the IIT seats for the SCs and STs remain vacant and for the remaining 50 per cent, 25 per cent are the candidates, who even after six years fail to get their degrees. So, clearly, in their case, reservations are not working.

Arjun Singh: I would only say that on this issue, it would not be correct to go by all these figures that have been paraded.

Karan Thapar: You mean the IIT figures themselves could be dubious?

Arjun Singh: Not dubious, but I think that is not the last word."

And obviously, you would like to have the last word on everything, won't you?

Look how the respected minister is cornered when someone he cannot refute, is quoted:

"Karan Thapar: Let me quote to you Jawaharlal Nehru, a man whom you personally admire enormously. On the 27th of June 1961 wrote to the Chief Ministers of the day as follows: I dislike any kind of reservations. If we go in for any kind of reservations on communal and caste basis, we will swamp the bright and able people and remain second rate or third rate. The moment we encourage the second rate, we are lost. And then he adds pointedly: This way lies not only folly, but also disaster. What do you say to Jawaharlal Nehru today?

Arjun Singh: Jawaharlal Nehru was a great man in his own right and not only me, but everyone in India accept his view.

Karan Thapar: But you are just about to ignore his advice.

Arjun Singh: No. Are you aware that it was Jawaharlal Nehru who introduced the first ammendment regarding OBCs?

Karan Thapar: Yes, and I am talking about Jawaharlal Nehru in 1961, when clearly he had changed his position, he said - I dislike any kind of reservations.

Arjun Singh: I don't think one could take Panditji's position at any point of time and then overlook what he had himself initiated."

I really do urge you, dear reader, to go through the entire interview.

And let me also tell you what I feel as a young Indian after having read what has been written in the newspapers, after listening and seeing what has been shown on the TV, and most importantly, after having spoken to students who've actively campaigned on the streets of Mumbai against the stupidity of it all...

I feel proud of fellow Indians who've decided not to sit back and allow party politics and feudal decisions to affect the lives of millions of youngsters. At least, they've had the satisfaction of doing more than just blogging on the subject.

A flute for the summer

Yesterday was a special treat.

Another friend from Calcutta landed up in Mumbai. And the simplest escape that we 3 friends had in the evening was to go to the Juhu Beach, barely 10 minutes away from my house. So, go to the beach we did.

Of all the wonderful things that could've happened to me at the beach, I happened to buy a flute!!

Now, I've never had anything to do with any musical instrument ever. I've always been fascinated by the piano and the violin, but couldn't ever manage to find the time to go to music classes. And neither am I a novice flautist, let alone an expert one.

So, I well and truly surprised myself with the force with which I convinced my friend that I should pay 60 rupees to purchase a piece of bamboo with 6 holes in it. Sheesh !!

And what did I do with it?? Played nonsensical tunes all the while we were on the beach, while we were walking on the road, while we were waiting for the coffee to arrive at Barista (ok, I 'played' the flute as softly as I could) and also while my friends tried to prepare a midnight snack back at the house. Finally, my friends could take it no more and the budding Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia had his flute snatched away from him at 4 in the morning; to his utter annoyment, may I add.

Well, the story doesn't end there.

I was all alone at home today as one friend was already on a flight back to Calcutta and the other had gone off to meet his relatives. So, I decided to catch up on my summer project work. And, at the end of a good 2 hours of staring non-stop at the laptop, I just collapsed on my bed.

I had kept my eyes closed as they were feeling strained after all the comp. work. I was wondering what I could do to keep myself busy. Reading a newspaper or an e-book was out of the question, and so was solving a Sudoku. And then...voila !! It hit me.

Why not play the flute?

So, I played the flute for a good 1 hour, trying different notes and different finger combinations. Although I didn't manage to bring myself anywhere near the standards of the revered Pt. Chaurasia, I'm sure even he would've smiled had he seen my persistence to keep playing tune after nonsensical tune.

Boy, is my next roommate at the hostel in trouble, or what?

A thoughtful walk

"I really need to walk alone."

He took off his sneakers, rolled up his jeans and stood up straight, looking towards the sea. With a deep breath, he strolled towards the dark waters.

Once near the water's edge, he looked down at his feet. They weren't an old man's feet. In fact, they were the feet of a person well into his youth. All right, the feet had done some heavy-duty walking... there were cuts and scratches here and there, calm reminders of the time when little droplets of blood had left a stinging sensation at those very places.

He smiled to himself at those memories.

After all, he hadn't been alone at those endeavors, had he? He was one of the many merry men who'd set out on their difficult task armed with nothing but youthful laughter.

But this wasn't a night when he wanted to ruminate about those rustic hours of boyhood, spent walking in the wet villages of rural West Bengal. No. Tonight was a night for contemplation at the future that lay ahead.

"Can it really be true?", he wondered. "Am I really the master of my destiny? Can I ACTUALLY achieve whatever I wish to achieve, provided I put everything into it?"

Turning left, he started the long walk.

The walking figure was in itself like a statue in movement. A young, powerful and proud physique, the lithe movement of the muscles of his legs reminded the onlookers of the gracious moves of a young lion. His long, neat hair playfully waved in the wind that was blowing in from the sea. His head was bowed down, and his eyes were caught in a fixed stare the ground below his feet.

A wave came crashing towards him. He paused. Slowly, he looked up towards the sea.

"What does the sea remind me of? What does this dark sky tell me? Why do these waves, crashing towards me, leave me with a sense of peace and calm although they are little more in themselves than a din of water droplets going wild?"

Mozart!! That's what the crashing waves reminded him of... Mozart! Why? Even Beethoven for that matter. The great masters. Their work, their tireless dedication, which through their tireless efforts turned work into joy... Yes indeed. That is what the waves and the sea on a dark, moon-less night reminded him of. Ah! What joy it must be to be consumed in work, to feel your work living and breathing in the pulse of your very body. It must be sublime. It takes great pains, blood, sweat and tears to achieve that one moment... that one moment when you step back, weary and tired, to look at your creation. From nothing, from the very basic materials provided by nature, you've created something beautiful. And even though to the world your work might just seem an inanimate object, for you, it is your baby, your creation, a reminder of your victory over the elements.

Wait. Hadn't he read something similar somewhere? But of course. The Fountainhead. Howard Roark definitely knew his stuff. And so did Dominique. Of course, he had his own differences with the author, but that could rest for now.

"Papa papa. I want a Coke!" The shrill young voice of a 5 year old brought our hero out of his reverie.

And he turned around.

He had not only turned a 180 degrees literally, but figuratively as well. In place of the dark empty spaces of the wide open sea, there was now the light of a thousand tubelights. There was noise everywhere. Peddlers selling their wares; children crying; car horns honking.

Or should he turn towards this world? Surely, he loved all the material comforts?

And not that his demands were great. All he wanted was a comfortable house for his parents, enough money to buy his sweetheart gifts, cash enough to go to the movies with friends and not bother about the inflated price of popcorn and soft-drinks at the swanky new multiplex. And for heavens' sake, could he have more balance on his cell-phone pre-paid card?

Mammon smiled at him from every nook and corner where the thousand tubelights spread their bright white light. People swished away in their glitzy Fords and Honda Citys, not to mention the occassional Mercedez that always managed to get a pedestrian to look longingly at the car for a fleeting few seconds.

He shook his head, smiled and looked down at the sand again.

"So, Mr. Master-of-your-own-Destiny? Which will it be?" he asked himself, almost as if asking a child his preference between a candy and a drink of lemonade. "Will it be the darkness, or shall there be light?"

...and he continued walking on the beach, leaving footprints on the wet sand; some of which were erased by the occassional wave which managed to reach them, and the rest of his footprints were all too visible in the dry sand in the light of a thousand electric tubelights.

For the record v 2.01

Ok..saying that this was simply version 2 would've been good enough.. but for a guy who quit science at the class 10 level after mistakenly drawing an amoeba instead of a baby cockroach, "THESE TECHNICAL GUYS ARE CRAZY...." *points repeatedly to his head with the sound 'Tap! Tap! Tap!'*

I thought that these tech. guys must add all their .01/.02/.03/.00000632343 to the updates of their softwares just to confuse 'Commerce babuas' like yours truly.

But, the point is....did you notice anything in particular??

Yep. I'm referring to the "THESE TECHNICAL GUYS ARE CRAZY..." ('Tap! Tap! Tap!') Straight out of Obelix's dictionary.

Have completed the following since my last announcement:

1. The Complete Asterix series (well, 29 comic books, to be precise) *Yippeeee !!!!!!*

2. After The Funeral - Agatha Christie

By Toutatis !! I'm enjoying myself....

Sick !! Sick !! Sick !!

...and even pathetic, for that matter.

I spent the better part of the morning today for a friend to fly in from Calcutta at the Santacruz Airport. Thank you, Air Deccan...do ghante bhooke pet khadaa rehna padaa. But that wasn't what got me feeling miserable.

I spent a good 1 hour standing next to this Bengali fellow. He too seemed to be waiting for someone arriving by the same flight.

Okay, point number 1: Friends/relatives/well-wishers/people in 'close contact' with folks who stink should very seriously present a dozen bottles of deodorant to the guy, alongwith photocopy of pages of the Oxford English Dictionary which contain the definitions of 'stink', 'perspiration' and 'deodorant'.

People who still refuse to use the deo, should be appointed in the defence ministry to torture captured millitants. A few of these guys in the Defence arsenal and Indian should be free from millitant related activities till Axe/Rexona/Hugo Boss/Others make an effect on the 'smelly souls'.

Point Number 2: I HATE LECHERS All that the guy did was lech at ALL the girls he could set his sights on. The disgusting manner in which he kept looking at the various air-hostesses / teenage girls who'd come to see off their dads to the airport / (and the most disgusting part) young mothers who were travelling with their kids, made me feel Sick !! Sick !! Sick !!

What's worse, I couldn't do a thing about it !! And this infuriated me even more. It was only a few days ago that Sunshine had blogged about a similar shameful incident in the Calcutta Metro...and yet, the 'yuck' scene was being acted out right in front of my eyes...and there I was, standing helplessly.

I mean, what could I have done ??

I wanted to blog a bit more about this...express myself a bit more clearly...but am too filled with RAGE right now to write anything further

For the record

I'm so addicted to blogger that I'm using it as a notepad now...

Hence, I just wanted to jot down the e-books that I've read in the past 3 weeks.

Here goes:

1. A Quiver full of Arrows - Jeffrey Archer
2. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J. K. Rowling
3. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J. K. Rowling
4. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling
5. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J. K. Rowling
6. Deception Point - Dan Brown
7. And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie
8. 4:50 from Paddington - Agatha Christie

Yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan

Life in Mumbai can be extremely interesting, if only one keeps his eyes and ears open. So, while the happiness of sipping a piping hot Caramel Cappuccino here at the Reliance WebWorld lasts (anyway, it is only going to last till the time the guy from Java Green comes over and asks me to pay for the coffee), let me recount two observations I've made in this wonderful city..

Snapshot no. 1

I remember this time, not so long ago, when I was walking past a couple of buildings in Calcutta, when a Bengali maid-servant came out of a building and asked this guy squatting on the footpath, "Nobeen koi ?" (Where's Navin?)

Man: Ekhono aashe ni...keno ? (He hasn't come yet...why?)

Maid: Kiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ekhono aashe ni ??? Amaarke bole chilo je missed call dile neeche aashe jaabe. Ekhon amaar cell-e missed call pelaam, kintu o ekhono ekhaane nei.. (What !!!!!!! He isn't here yet??? He'd told me to come down once he gave me a missed call. I just got his missed call on my cell, but he isn't here yet...)

What gave me quite a turn apart from the romantic liaisons of the maid-servants of Calcutta was that the maid servant had a cell phone whereas the poor friend accompanying me on that beautiful evening walk didn't have one. With a pained countenance that only said "Wait till I tell Dad about this", she continued silently. That was when I knew India had gone hi-tech.

But Mumbai always proves that it is a step ahead.

Pasted on a number of trees along Juhu: Maid servant?? Call 93xxx xxxxx

Not bad for a country where less than 40 per cent of the country's total area is covered by mobile networks, and fewer than 8 in every 100 Indians use mobiles, compared with China's 30 per cent.

Snapshot no. 2

Having worked briefly as a freelance journalist for The Statesman, Kolkata, it is always easy to act high-nosed and frown at tabloids. However, my late-night work/Asterix-reading/Sudoku sessions ensure that I end up waking very late the next day and hence, don't feel like even venturing out to buy the regular newspaper, let alone glance at a tabloid.

But what gives me the opportunity to sneak a peek at what the tabloids are publishing are my nightly cheese masala-dosa sojourns. I prefer going down to the 'thela-wala' below my house and getting a parcel back home. And thanks to the ban of plastic packets, the dosa-wala stuffs the lip-smacking dosas into old newspapers, usually tabloids. These make for interesting reading while having dinner (well, there's precious little to do when you're having a solitary dinner).

I took the easy way out last time and frowned at a front-page tabloid story about how a television star's pet dog had bitten the neighbour's dog and how furious the neighbour was that the television star had not apologised. Smirk smirk. Reminded me of another tabloid story that my colleague at the office had read out about how a young actress was gifted a dog by her boyfriend. The story had gone into details of the duration of the relationship of the starlet, the gifts that she'd received on V-day this year and how oohhhhh---shooo---coochiiiiee-koooo it was for the boyfriend to gift her a dog. ("Ek ladke ne ek ladki ko kutta diya aur woh story ho gaya," my colleague told me with a snort, ending his heavily loaded statement.)

But just last-night I was delighted to read a good piece of journalism where a journalist recounted how a local politician had murdered a cable TV operator in Dombivili and had been told by the court not to enter Thane till the time the court gave its ruling. Yet, the politician had been spotted at the wedding of a magistrate's son (the journalist had managed photographic evidence). I felt proud of the journalist who'd written the story and also for the editor who dared to publish the story. Perhaps, tabloids aren't that bad after all.

Chalo, I'll be off to work again. Let's see if I can slip past unnoticed.....DAMN !! There's that Java Green guy. *Sigh* Where's my 50 ka note ?

Muggle world

I've been away..but nah, I haven't exactly been leading a team of brave soldiers on an expedition to reach the summit of the Himalayas. I've been doing something lot more braver..Work! (Don't you dare laugh, Mini.)

No, no seriously. Against the combined will of all the heavenly planets and against the expectations of most friends, I actually am working...just not hard enough. Work has, of course, been interspersed with long durations of sleep, reading Harry Potter, eating bhel-puri/sev-puri/masala-dosas and sleeping again.

In fact, some friends feel that I've become a HP freak! And why not; in the fortnight that I've been here, I've finished reading the 3rd, 4th and 5th installments of the series. And yes, I've already started reading the 'Half Blood Prince', so.....

A word here must be put up in the Defence of Writing Arts...err...J. K. Rowling's writing. Just last night I was talking to a friend in Cal and was irritated no end to find that he actually felt that she (Rowling..not the friend, the friend was a he..but anyway, on to the story again) wrote ultra-rubbish.

I personally feel the books are as good as any 'adult' (not that 'adult', idiot!, mature-buddhi wala adult) suspense novels. What the hell, if they can make me see dreams of playing Quidditch instead of Udita Goswami as a Kingfisher air-hostess, I think she (Rowling, not Udita Goswami) is damn good. (Oh well, just in case Udita Goswami happens to read this blog, you're damn good too, Udita. Of course, I'd be singing 'Ek baar aa jaa, aa jaa' to you instead of Rowling).

The fact remains that Rowling's got a wonderful imagination, writes beautiful plots, and keeps the reader guessing till the end with a wonderfully scripted suspense. What's even more, her books have sold 300 million copies (let's not even count the number of pirated copies that must have been sold in India, leave alone world-wide) and have been translated into 63 languages.

In a world dominated by cable television, the Internet and Sony Playstations, I'm thankful to the Rowling's of this world to have generated an interest in books, and more importantly, having generated that interest in the younger population of the world.

But, for the time being, I return to Muggle-world, and must return to the Ministry of Magi--no, the CNBC office to work my 'charm'.

Jab main chhota baccha tha

I bet 3 out of 4 of you who read the title will go "...bahut shararat karta tha".

The lines are from a very popular ad-jingle from my younger days (I put in 'younger days' since I believe my 'childhood' is far from over *evil grin*).

Here is that complete jingle for Bajaj bulbs..

"Jab main chhota baccha tha

Bahut shararat karta tha

Meri chori pakdi jaati...

Kyun ki roshni deta Bajaj.

Ab main bilkul buddha hoon

Goli khake jeeta hoon

Phir bhi chori pakdi jaati...

Kyun ki roshni deta Bajaj."

Now the reason why this ad rings in my memory more than any other is because I got into trouble because of this particular ad. No, not recently, but you know how kids are kids..and how they imitate anything that they see.

Now, it so happens that even at that age I was crazy about reading books, and my Mum and Dad would obviously tell me to stick to my study books during the day rather than novels/fiction books. So, while I was trying to think of novel ways (puns intended) to increase my reading hours..Bingo!! I saw the ad.

In the ad, the kid tried to read a comic under the blanket with the help of a torch when his room lights had been switched off by his parents, who very conveniently thought that the kid had gone off to sleep. Of course, the conspirator was caught and the camera was quick to point out that the bulb that had been switched on in the room was a Bajaj bulb.

The chota idiot that I was, I thought I could do better than the kid in the ad, and so I sneaked an Eveready torch and a 'Bobbsey Twins' adventure book (I'd borrowed it from the school library) into my room at night. Of course I got caught within ten minutes of the premiere show of 'The Adventures of Bobbsey Twins'. I don't remember getting any punishment for my foolishness, but I certainly do recall that I never ever again got the opportunity to be a badmaash and read books under the blanket again.

P.S. On a more positive note, the second part of the ad, where the old fellow tries to steal food from the refrigerator, only to be caught red-handed/pastry-tongued by his wife, was a GREAT learning experience. To this day, there has been no, and I repeat, NO occassion when I have been caught while helping myself to chocolates/pastry/Coke in the dead of the night. Touch wood. :)

Brand Ambassador

A change in the brand ambassador of this blog.

From FIDO DIDO.......................to ME !! :D