Last couple of weeks it’s been tough for me to spend my time, which is relatively idle. Of course it is official time and let me mention, I can be found only in two places through the year, either race course or stable. Did I sound whinny? If I say, change in organization is the cause of the free time, I may not be wrong. I am in transient phase, trying to gain foothold at a new place. As I hardly have any control over the cause, I consciously decided to utilize the time to gather information. Gathering information (like policies, etc.) about the new place seemed to be the call of the hour. Hence I started my expedition.
Human resource department takes pride in claiming, that all related information is just a “click” (Mouse click) away rather than saying a building away or a location way (as in case of big manufacturing houses). But I have so much of free time that I will easily motivate myself to commute from building to building or location for the sake of information. Now, there’s a problem in “click methodology” (of extracting information), I need a system (desktop, aka computer). My boss told me I will have a system only when I have a project. And my experience says when I have project I will not have enough time to excavate information. Irony of the industry is the right tool is only procured, not at the right time but much later than that, saying “better late than never”. I want to thank the person who phrased the words, at least it provides an easy getaway.
Implementing “click methodology” was not feasible, thus resulting in my dependence on people whom I talked to in the organization. The only drawback of such practice - whatever is served, will look like Swiss cheese (which has more holes than cheese). It depended on an individual’s inventive mind on how to cement the holes and make it concrete. While such transfer of information continued thru such unscheduled on-call meetings, I used the rest of the time in library. No don’t get me wrong, I just comforted myself in the cozy sofa kept there. To hide the oddity of my relaxed posture on the sofa, I picked up a newspaper and buried my face behind the pages. This habit had a magnetic effect, now I happen to read the columns as well, even of financial news papers. Albeit, my resume projects my expertise in finance, my knowledge and pocket will disagree at will. I read such journals of compulsion as there are hardly any takers in the library who loves reading those pinky orange colored papers. The rest of the dailies are always on demand, predator outnumbering prey. To get my hand on to one, I depend on my scavenging and hopping skills of a frog. By the mid of my day I realize my hard work paid, I read 3 of those.
Passing the rest of the day is much easier because I do not have to imitate a frog and I can sit quiet especially after a sumptuous meal. It is important to relax after a hard day’s meal, so I browse the open shelf for small books which has 200 pages or less, than find a low profile corner of the library (where less people ventured) and unwind myself over a chair. People say, “Outside a dog, books are man’s best friend”, I whole heartedly agree to this. I remember, during my school days, I remained surrounded by books whenever I slept. Yes, that’s primarily because I used to fall asleep over an open book on the study table while studying. Who needs a sleeping pill when books are around? Physique of some book is meant to force people like me to sleep. Here in library, I get so engrossed in the book (read as sleep) that unconsciously my chin rests over the table, and my eyes almost closes, at a distance of a few millimeters of the page. I wish, I could even read the first chapter of the books completely that I picked relentlessly, post lunch after post lunch. Believe me, my intentions are always sincere, but the urge of a cat nap betrays my effort. All the books I tried reading after lunch can vouch on my claim. Darn me! Nevertheless I have an inference from this experiment, all the books smells the same.
Practice makes a man perfect but an imperfect practice seldom – Yours sincerely.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Arise, awake, and stop not ...
After all the hiatus, finally the country is coming to terms and is back to normalcy. No points for guessing, I am talking about “The Mumbai Carnage”. In my thoughtful subconscious mind, I asked myself why it happened in the first place. Was it just an intelligence failure or another failure at our end? Yes, “our”, of course including me, even if I am sitting long way from the financial capital of the country. Ask me the same question in public somewhere in Gateway of India, my answer will be different. Although I thoroughly understand “Security is personal”, I will blame everybody else except me, starting from police to politician, and how can I forget the neighboring country.
If you have ever commuted by public transportation, you may find writing on the wall, “you are responsible for your belongings”. Does that also include “Life”? May be, isn’t life my own belonging? I believe, I have to explain this one with simple examples relating to day to day life. Why do we wear helmet while driving? If we all follow the road rules properly without failure do you think we will ever have to wear helmet? I have another example for those who could not relate themselves from the previous example, do we leave our entry gates and doors of our houses unlocked, even if we have 24/7 security beside the gate? By saying all this I am not trying to save the public servants who are responsible for security of Republic of India and people residing within. More so, when I religiously pay my taxes year after year (which is used for country’s development including security). And at the same time, I notice poor police to public ratio, which stands at around 1000 persons/police. Since now I am sympathetic towards the police, let me pick the next one from my blame list, politicians. We are a democratic country, how does a politician comes to power? I presume the answer is hidden well within the question, irrelevant of the fact whether I practice my voting right.
I am stuck, the last and only option in my blame list is the neighboring country, where I have never been, neither am I aware of their culture. Population of India is 1,147,995,904 (more than 1.14 billion). Disclaimer: By the time you read, figures are bound to change. How is it possible that an alien intrudes our country without detection? There has to be at least one out of such a humongous count, who must have noticed anti social elements entering through, so called porous border. That suggest we are careless and not so cautious about unfamiliar events happening around us. Unfortunately we are surrounded by not so prosperous countries than us and such tales of horror will keep occurring till they follow the path to development (not only defense). Investigations have showed root cause of such crime, most of the time is meager sum of money. So, it is more important that we remain vigilant and bring out the little policeman within us and question things as and when it is happening, rather than sitting like a duck expecting we will not be harmed, whereas the fact is, someone from my own society, country will be harmed. Being a student of management (by virtue of my job) I have understood, this incidence has placed us in reactive mode (fire fighting) because we were not proactive in estimating the loss that will be caused if we do not plan properly.
With faith in almighty, I hope such gruesome incidence will not be repeated anywhere, anywhere in the world. Let us pledge to work towards a peaceful country and world.
Arise, awake, and stop not till your goal is reached! -- Swami Vivekananda
If you have ever commuted by public transportation, you may find writing on the wall, “you are responsible for your belongings”. Does that also include “Life”? May be, isn’t life my own belonging? I believe, I have to explain this one with simple examples relating to day to day life. Why do we wear helmet while driving? If we all follow the road rules properly without failure do you think we will ever have to wear helmet? I have another example for those who could not relate themselves from the previous example, do we leave our entry gates and doors of our houses unlocked, even if we have 24/7 security beside the gate? By saying all this I am not trying to save the public servants who are responsible for security of Republic of India and people residing within. More so, when I religiously pay my taxes year after year (which is used for country’s development including security). And at the same time, I notice poor police to public ratio, which stands at around 1000 persons/police. Since now I am sympathetic towards the police, let me pick the next one from my blame list, politicians. We are a democratic country, how does a politician comes to power? I presume the answer is hidden well within the question, irrelevant of the fact whether I practice my voting right.
I am stuck, the last and only option in my blame list is the neighboring country, where I have never been, neither am I aware of their culture. Population of India is 1,147,995,904 (more than 1.14 billion). Disclaimer: By the time you read, figures are bound to change. How is it possible that an alien intrudes our country without detection? There has to be at least one out of such a humongous count, who must have noticed anti social elements entering through, so called porous border. That suggest we are careless and not so cautious about unfamiliar events happening around us. Unfortunately we are surrounded by not so prosperous countries than us and such tales of horror will keep occurring till they follow the path to development (not only defense). Investigations have showed root cause of such crime, most of the time is meager sum of money. So, it is more important that we remain vigilant and bring out the little policeman within us and question things as and when it is happening, rather than sitting like a duck expecting we will not be harmed, whereas the fact is, someone from my own society, country will be harmed. Being a student of management (by virtue of my job) I have understood, this incidence has placed us in reactive mode (fire fighting) because we were not proactive in estimating the loss that will be caused if we do not plan properly.
With faith in almighty, I hope such gruesome incidence will not be repeated anywhere, anywhere in the world. Let us pledge to work towards a peaceful country and world.
Arise, awake, and stop not till your goal is reached! -- Swami Vivekananda
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The last bus
The 32 seats bus entered the campus, bordered by barbed wires neatly hidden behind sheets of green jute knitted fabric, security scanning authentication of entering vehicles from the guard post. Sitting in one corner (facing wind shield) I was gazing at the passing coconut trees and a wide delicately mowed lawn which resembled a golf course just because of the marking flags to identify location of nearby hole. I turned my sight to other side to see if it was a place to play golf. Yes it was but I could measure the latitude, probably it was a mini course and not a 19 holes course. Bus stopped near a small 2 floored building after traversing the serpentine road cutting the lawn diametrically.
As soon as I stepped down a breeze embraced me, welcoming to the new facility where I will have my new base. From bustle of the city to a quiet and uninhabited island which is connected by a makeshift bridge which promises to break even at the first warning calls before flood. I felt like a prisoner sentenced to stay here for life. The coconut leaves high up, rubbing to each other on a bright sunny day, called me to give me a faith that I can also stand tall, independent with my own space which was in ample here and that is what is needed when I have vision to grow. I decided, I will grow here whatever comes I will take it head on. With the thought I walked pass the security at the entrance to the ground floor, which still had a deserted look. Was me, the only prisoner of my thought, sent to this facility? I hope not, otherwise my determination will take a dent, nevertheless I will still give it a fight.
When the clock ticked 1230 hours, I noticed few more people entering the floor with steady steps proving they are not as fresh as me in the enclosure. I was happy to see more of my species, and one of them confirmed I was the 40th inmate here, so nothing to worry. But my mind still reluctant to accept that there was nothing to worry and a thought of breaking off from here frequented my mind for first few weeks. To kill the thought and get accustomed to the place I used to come out of the floor with a reason to smoke. Smoke break was also meant to heighten my spirit by observing the same coconut tree which was standing tall nearer to the sky, beating the concrete building.
With passing time I liked the place, largely because of the work schedule, which hardly gave me the luxury to think anything else, and my companion “the coconut tree”. In my not so good days my companion shared my pain and the smoke that I was airing. Days when I was low, starved, frustrated, lost, it was right beside me to boost my moral and gave me the hope that I was growing with every experience, good or bad. Moreover good and bad are complimentary and are well appreciated in each other’s coexistence.
The next year, I was shifted to the next newly built, bigger building on the other side of the road. I knew, I may not get enough time to see my companion once I am out, but I also had to accept the opportunity, expecting I will grow. While leaving, I wished I could see my companion from my new floor. Almighty was kind. Now I have a terrace on the 5th floor to smoke and see my companion from far. Things have changed so fast in 18 months, earlier I used to look up to my partner with hope, now I look down to find my friend. The concrete building belittled the existence of my partner. I asked myself, was this growth that I was in search of when I was deported to this campus?
Today, little more than 2 years have passed, and I am holding on to the same zeal that my companion gave me long back. My watch is showing 1845 hours, I am seated in a 32 seats bus on one corner, with my back to the wind shield, facing the rest of the commuters, as if getting ready for new ordeal. The driver has started the engine and I am looking at the place where I used to share my time with my companion, bravely defeating wild wind. A new concrete structure has invaded my partner’s space, I do not see my friend anymore. With a deep breath, I looked up to the dusky sky, a cool breeze touched me, embraced me for the last time. My thoughts slowly dying under the rumbling sound of the moving buses. With a vision to grow somewhere else and a hope of brighter tomorrow, I am leaving this place forever, this is my last bus from the campus.
As soon as I stepped down a breeze embraced me, welcoming to the new facility where I will have my new base. From bustle of the city to a quiet and uninhabited island which is connected by a makeshift bridge which promises to break even at the first warning calls before flood. I felt like a prisoner sentenced to stay here for life. The coconut leaves high up, rubbing to each other on a bright sunny day, called me to give me a faith that I can also stand tall, independent with my own space which was in ample here and that is what is needed when I have vision to grow. I decided, I will grow here whatever comes I will take it head on. With the thought I walked pass the security at the entrance to the ground floor, which still had a deserted look. Was me, the only prisoner of my thought, sent to this facility? I hope not, otherwise my determination will take a dent, nevertheless I will still give it a fight.
When the clock ticked 1230 hours, I noticed few more people entering the floor with steady steps proving they are not as fresh as me in the enclosure. I was happy to see more of my species, and one of them confirmed I was the 40th inmate here, so nothing to worry. But my mind still reluctant to accept that there was nothing to worry and a thought of breaking off from here frequented my mind for first few weeks. To kill the thought and get accustomed to the place I used to come out of the floor with a reason to smoke. Smoke break was also meant to heighten my spirit by observing the same coconut tree which was standing tall nearer to the sky, beating the concrete building.
With passing time I liked the place, largely because of the work schedule, which hardly gave me the luxury to think anything else, and my companion “the coconut tree”. In my not so good days my companion shared my pain and the smoke that I was airing. Days when I was low, starved, frustrated, lost, it was right beside me to boost my moral and gave me the hope that I was growing with every experience, good or bad. Moreover good and bad are complimentary and are well appreciated in each other’s coexistence.
The next year, I was shifted to the next newly built, bigger building on the other side of the road. I knew, I may not get enough time to see my companion once I am out, but I also had to accept the opportunity, expecting I will grow. While leaving, I wished I could see my companion from my new floor. Almighty was kind. Now I have a terrace on the 5th floor to smoke and see my companion from far. Things have changed so fast in 18 months, earlier I used to look up to my partner with hope, now I look down to find my friend. The concrete building belittled the existence of my partner. I asked myself, was this growth that I was in search of when I was deported to this campus?
Today, little more than 2 years have passed, and I am holding on to the same zeal that my companion gave me long back. My watch is showing 1845 hours, I am seated in a 32 seats bus on one corner, with my back to the wind shield, facing the rest of the commuters, as if getting ready for new ordeal. The driver has started the engine and I am looking at the place where I used to share my time with my companion, bravely defeating wild wind. A new concrete structure has invaded my partner’s space, I do not see my friend anymore. With a deep breath, I looked up to the dusky sky, a cool breeze touched me, embraced me for the last time. My thoughts slowly dying under the rumbling sound of the moving buses. With a vision to grow somewhere else and a hope of brighter tomorrow, I am leaving this place forever, this is my last bus from the campus.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Pardon the fox
During my recent visit to one time capital of India and habitat of intellectuals, realized nothing much changed during last 4 years. I was wondering, how a city, which apparently have chosen the path to modernization (and industrialization), can still hang on to the roots (quiet appreciable). People are as warm as ever and they also have a nice a way to set off a conversation with unknown people, by airing any statement on politics. Albeit, neither I was in politics nor it is a subject of interest, still I have played the role of obedient receptor, every time out of compulsion. Why? Simply because I could not find any other place to make myself uncomfortable, either in bus, train, tram or “Oli-golitey cabin” (cabin is a place where not only ordinary, even extra-ordinary people spend productive time with a cup of tea and snacks. “Oli-golitey” is just a name of the cabin, which in broader sense mean, corner of the street.)
The other day, during one such commute by bus, I was caught in crossfire. As I do not know the art of becoming deaf I had to oblige the volleys of argument. To show my lack of interest I started gazing here and there. I noticed another humble soul was equally irritated. She was staring down at me through the blood red hibiscus garland. The color of carved wooden frame where she was accommodated had gone from bright brown to dull brown due to the residual of burnt carbon.
The vermillion sandalwood mark on her forehead was getting itchy, I wish she had handy wet tissue to clean the stuff and wipers to get rid of the jerking garland disturbing her vision. Adding to the trouble, the burning incense stick has reddened her eyes and almost choked her. If this was not enough, the glowing decorative light at her feet has increased the heat on a hot humid sultry day, the tongue which she has been sticking out through the day have dried and dehydrated her.
Even a SOS for bail out will fall in deaf ears, thanks to the rusty black loud speaker, nailed beside her, double her size, played the Hindi number “chal chaiyan”. Helpless, I saw her in distress. I guess, the only way she can come out of agony is by showing her anger.
The fox at her mercy looked worried after studying wrinkles on her forehead. Why worried? Do not forget (mythology), fox will be forced to drink all the blood that oozes out, as a result of destruction by “Goddess Kali”. The poor fox for his own sake, seemed to pray with folded hands, to forgive the devil and donate him respite.
Mother (Goddess) pardon me too and do not stare at me furiously, I believed you will help me out from the uninterested discussion. I, a tiny mortal creature, stepping out of the bus to my destiny, hardly have any prowess to help you. Bless me!
The other day, during one such commute by bus, I was caught in crossfire. As I do not know the art of becoming deaf I had to oblige the volleys of argument. To show my lack of interest I started gazing here and there. I noticed another humble soul was equally irritated. She was staring down at me through the blood red hibiscus garland. The color of carved wooden frame where she was accommodated had gone from bright brown to dull brown due to the residual of burnt carbon.
The vermillion sandalwood mark on her forehead was getting itchy, I wish she had handy wet tissue to clean the stuff and wipers to get rid of the jerking garland disturbing her vision. Adding to the trouble, the burning incense stick has reddened her eyes and almost choked her. If this was not enough, the glowing decorative light at her feet has increased the heat on a hot humid sultry day, the tongue which she has been sticking out through the day have dried and dehydrated her.
Even a SOS for bail out will fall in deaf ears, thanks to the rusty black loud speaker, nailed beside her, double her size, played the Hindi number “chal chaiyan”. Helpless, I saw her in distress. I guess, the only way she can come out of agony is by showing her anger.
The fox at her mercy looked worried after studying wrinkles on her forehead. Why worried? Do not forget (mythology), fox will be forced to drink all the blood that oozes out, as a result of destruction by “Goddess Kali”. The poor fox for his own sake, seemed to pray with folded hands, to forgive the devil and donate him respite.
Mother (Goddess) pardon me too and do not stare at me furiously, I believed you will help me out from the uninterested discussion. I, a tiny mortal creature, stepping out of the bus to my destiny, hardly have any prowess to help you. Bless me!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Truth, the whole truth, only truth and nothing but truth
You will be paid for speaking truth, the whole truth, only truth and nothing but truth. Did it sound like you are in court of law (sans “you will be paid”) facing the judge? “You will be paid” are the most fascinating words, I would love to hear again and again. I am one of those, who believe in measuring everything in the materialistic world including happiness, success. Now the question is what is the unit of measurement for happiness and success? Is it the reward (including money) I earn by involving myself in ethical (being true) and not so ethical practices?
I remember, I was always taught to be truthful since my infancy. I was also explained why I should, apparently, afterlife sinners are relegated to one or more chamber(s) of hell or level(s) of suffering. That means, I speak truth and I do not get anything in return but save myself from the demons, who torment the damned in hell. What if I lie, do I get something in return? Yes. I got one hard slap from my dad in this life and did not have to wait for the afterlife demon. But this happened longtime back when I was younger by 25 winter, today under same circumstance the returns are rewarding, I can site innumerable examples to support my claim, such as - I save myself from being cornered if I say I have forgotten (which I didn’t) or best, if I blame someone else for my fault (in his absence), I take the credit of doing something not ever done by me, thus earning appreciation (even salary raise). Believe me when I do all these unethical stuff, I do not even worry about before life or afterlife demon, more so because I have understood the fact that being truthful does not pay.
I was happy to stick to my belief until I saw an episode of a reality show, where a participant earns money by speaking the truth. The interviewer asks intimate questions pertaining to participant's past and the participant has to answer in binary (no not in 0 and 1, but yes or no). The six levels of questions are arranged in pyramid, the number of question decreases from bottom to top and the amount of money increases with the complexity of question, with every level the risk and vulnerability also doubles up. This reality show has taken a giant leap by bringing this concept, and taking reality show to the next level. Anyway, these days viewers hardly like to attach themselves with never ending daily soaps, rather they choose to see reality shows which are “nano” (quick ending) and projects human behavior under different stress level, so this show has exactly catered to viewers requirement. Being part of the same crowd, I did not want to miss the opportunity to be student of psychology, hence glued myself to the serial and watched the participants literally breaking down under immense stress, trying to speak the truth. While it was amazing to see the participant being lured by the humongous amount they can win, it was also painful to see them in tears rupturing (or almost ruptured) close to heart relationship in the process of winning money. That moment I realized, albeit truth pays it also hurts.
I guess the questions were framed in three formats simple, intermediate and complex, the complexity increases exponentially. Some questions did not hurt anyone, some were meant to hurt at least one (in family) and the rest were to hurt the participant professionally or personally. The purpose is to tear off the participant by making all the effort to expose him to people around him, almost equivalent to project the participant nude in public with fists tied behind. If I am the producer I would rechristen the name of show to “agonizing truth”. I hope such extreme stress doesn’t drive people to insanity. If at all someone achieves insanity that is purely by choice, and no one is forced to answer questions and be truthful publicly. On one hand, success meant richer by thousands of dollars, on the other hand it also meant, poorer than ever in terms of dented or broken relationships.
Accolades for all human who have found the most inhuman way to reward truthful people and I also heartily wish the participants, at the receiving end, experience a pleasant ending as Fletcher Reede – the liar (read as lawyer), in “Liar Liar”.
I remember, I was always taught to be truthful since my infancy. I was also explained why I should, apparently, afterlife sinners are relegated to one or more chamber(s) of hell or level(s) of suffering. That means, I speak truth and I do not get anything in return but save myself from the demons, who torment the damned in hell. What if I lie, do I get something in return? Yes. I got one hard slap from my dad in this life and did not have to wait for the afterlife demon. But this happened longtime back when I was younger by 25 winter, today under same circumstance the returns are rewarding, I can site innumerable examples to support my claim, such as - I save myself from being cornered if I say I have forgotten (which I didn’t) or best, if I blame someone else for my fault (in his absence), I take the credit of doing something not ever done by me, thus earning appreciation (even salary raise). Believe me when I do all these unethical stuff, I do not even worry about before life or afterlife demon, more so because I have understood the fact that being truthful does not pay.
I was happy to stick to my belief until I saw an episode of a reality show, where a participant earns money by speaking the truth. The interviewer asks intimate questions pertaining to participant's past and the participant has to answer in binary (no not in 0 and 1, but yes or no). The six levels of questions are arranged in pyramid, the number of question decreases from bottom to top and the amount of money increases with the complexity of question, with every level the risk and vulnerability also doubles up. This reality show has taken a giant leap by bringing this concept, and taking reality show to the next level. Anyway, these days viewers hardly like to attach themselves with never ending daily soaps, rather they choose to see reality shows which are “nano” (quick ending) and projects human behavior under different stress level, so this show has exactly catered to viewers requirement. Being part of the same crowd, I did not want to miss the opportunity to be student of psychology, hence glued myself to the serial and watched the participants literally breaking down under immense stress, trying to speak the truth. While it was amazing to see the participant being lured by the humongous amount they can win, it was also painful to see them in tears rupturing (or almost ruptured) close to heart relationship in the process of winning money. That moment I realized, albeit truth pays it also hurts.
I guess the questions were framed in three formats simple, intermediate and complex, the complexity increases exponentially. Some questions did not hurt anyone, some were meant to hurt at least one (in family) and the rest were to hurt the participant professionally or personally. The purpose is to tear off the participant by making all the effort to expose him to people around him, almost equivalent to project the participant nude in public with fists tied behind. If I am the producer I would rechristen the name of show to “agonizing truth”. I hope such extreme stress doesn’t drive people to insanity. If at all someone achieves insanity that is purely by choice, and no one is forced to answer questions and be truthful publicly. On one hand, success meant richer by thousands of dollars, on the other hand it also meant, poorer than ever in terms of dented or broken relationships.
Accolades for all human who have found the most inhuman way to reward truthful people and I also heartily wish the participants, at the receiving end, experience a pleasant ending as Fletcher Reede – the liar (read as lawyer), in “Liar Liar”.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
100 Million Dollar
Receiving promotional calls has become part of daily routine in my life. At times, it is maddening when the caller happens to be a telemarketing executive trying to sell product. There is no respite if you are an owner of cellular phone (or even any telephone) and you are alive. They start with, “Sir, can I take 2 minutes?” and these 2 minutes will be extended to multiple of 2 minutes, that too only if you commit the mistake of saying, “yes you can.”. In case you decline, the next question will be, “Sir, when can I call you?” escape is impossible. But as someone has said “Impossible is nothing”, thanks to my learned friend, who suggested me an easy way out. Just say, ”I stay in a village”, this will definitely put an end to this call and sequel of calls to follow. The only disclaimer that comes with the suggestion is, it may not work if you plan to stay alive for a century, because with the pace the villages are urbanized I do not think there will be any more rural area in India, devoid of concepts of credit cards, clubbing, insurance, etc.
Some days back, a lady tele-caller was trying to sell an add-on cellular phone connection. I said, “You have already called on one that I have, where is the need of another one?” pat came the reply “for your family, Sir”. I replied “my family does not stay in the city”, what surprised me was her next question, “do you stay alone sir?” I thought my innocence has landed me in an awkward position, before she could say anything else, as a measure of recovery, I quipped, “yup alone, but not ready for live-in”.
It is amusing to reverse the role, from prey to predator. The other day the executive on the other side was trying to sell personal loan and I almost choked him by saying I need 100 million dollars, after a pause he could only say, they cannot give in dollars (local currency is Rupee). I replied “Fine, convert it into Indian rupees and approve it as soon as possible, I am in desperate need of money”. After hearing this, I am sure, he must have experienced thumping of his heart against the chest wall and probably might have skipped beats as well. If this anxiety was not enough, the icing on the cake was in the offing, “I need the money intrest free” was the last thing he could take from me. For me, it was straight ace, game, set and match. I never heard from him again.
Not all days are same, you win some you lose some. I remember in one such call, this smart executive was successful in selling me accident policy. Hindsight, I feel he convinced me easily by saying, I can put the policy on test for 2 months and then decide, and for the first 2 months the charges will be nominal. Human psychology, test everything before buying. Dumb me, how on earth can I test an accident policy, that would mean I have to involve myself in accident. And I have to gaze the measure of dismemberment accurately so that it falls in the prescribed or described policy coverage. Even thinking of testing is life threatening, forget about putting it into place. Nevertheless, I continued the policy for a year before I decided to get a rid of it by replacing it with rider over a life insurance policy.
The other calls that I receive frequently is for buying club membership, the easy answer to avoid or decline such calls are by stating that I am going out of country on long term. The executive will not continue the conversation anymore, but if by chance, of inquisitiveness they ask “where?” I say “Afghanistan”. I can bet none of the reputed clubs have their branches in war toned country. The immediate requirement of this beautiful country is food, water and not place of amusement. Whenever I get such calls, I am reminded of an old mate, he was very excited to own a membership of one of the well known clubs in the city. For first couple of months he had lot of good things to share about the facilities and hip crowd (especially the fairer sex) of the club, later I observed the stories vanishing and also noticed dark circle around his eyes. I hope it is neither because of excessive club usage nor excessive membership fees (too expensive to handle). All of it came to an abrupt end when he finally decided to part away from the exclusive membership, except God he is the only one who knows why he called it off at the cost of the hip people of the club. I guess he also understood the importance of food and water before luxurious amusement.
Above all, I must confess, I am grateful to one such executive named Claimant, because he was the one who sold me the life insurance policy and I eventually started planning for my future by investing. Never before, I ever thought, I will need a life insurance policy in future, even though I read, Aesop’s fable “The Ant and the Grasshopper” quite a number of times. I felt this was the only time when both of us were winner and I was happy to be a victim of tele-call. Symbiotic association in true sense.
Some days back, a lady tele-caller was trying to sell an add-on cellular phone connection. I said, “You have already called on one that I have, where is the need of another one?” pat came the reply “for your family, Sir”. I replied “my family does not stay in the city”, what surprised me was her next question, “do you stay alone sir?” I thought my innocence has landed me in an awkward position, before she could say anything else, as a measure of recovery, I quipped, “yup alone, but not ready for live-in”.
It is amusing to reverse the role, from prey to predator. The other day the executive on the other side was trying to sell personal loan and I almost choked him by saying I need 100 million dollars, after a pause he could only say, they cannot give in dollars (local currency is Rupee). I replied “Fine, convert it into Indian rupees and approve it as soon as possible, I am in desperate need of money”. After hearing this, I am sure, he must have experienced thumping of his heart against the chest wall and probably might have skipped beats as well. If this anxiety was not enough, the icing on the cake was in the offing, “I need the money intrest free” was the last thing he could take from me. For me, it was straight ace, game, set and match. I never heard from him again.
Not all days are same, you win some you lose some. I remember in one such call, this smart executive was successful in selling me accident policy. Hindsight, I feel he convinced me easily by saying, I can put the policy on test for 2 months and then decide, and for the first 2 months the charges will be nominal. Human psychology, test everything before buying. Dumb me, how on earth can I test an accident policy, that would mean I have to involve myself in accident. And I have to gaze the measure of dismemberment accurately so that it falls in the prescribed or described policy coverage. Even thinking of testing is life threatening, forget about putting it into place. Nevertheless, I continued the policy for a year before I decided to get a rid of it by replacing it with rider over a life insurance policy.
The other calls that I receive frequently is for buying club membership, the easy answer to avoid or decline such calls are by stating that I am going out of country on long term. The executive will not continue the conversation anymore, but if by chance, of inquisitiveness they ask “where?” I say “Afghanistan”. I can bet none of the reputed clubs have their branches in war toned country. The immediate requirement of this beautiful country is food, water and not place of amusement. Whenever I get such calls, I am reminded of an old mate, he was very excited to own a membership of one of the well known clubs in the city. For first couple of months he had lot of good things to share about the facilities and hip crowd (especially the fairer sex) of the club, later I observed the stories vanishing and also noticed dark circle around his eyes. I hope it is neither because of excessive club usage nor excessive membership fees (too expensive to handle). All of it came to an abrupt end when he finally decided to part away from the exclusive membership, except God he is the only one who knows why he called it off at the cost of the hip people of the club. I guess he also understood the importance of food and water before luxurious amusement.
Above all, I must confess, I am grateful to one such executive named Claimant, because he was the one who sold me the life insurance policy and I eventually started planning for my future by investing. Never before, I ever thought, I will need a life insurance policy in future, even though I read, Aesop’s fable “The Ant and the Grasshopper” quite a number of times. I felt this was the only time when both of us were winner and I was happy to be a victim of tele-call. Symbiotic association in true sense.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Blissful Sin
Last end of summer, I was on my first business trip to Boston. I had mixed experience from the visit and I also happen to learn things that I will never forget for the rest of my life. Porters, baggers, cabbies, television advertisements and so on, were subjects (or rather unusual sources) of my observation, all the inferences concluded as learning’s.
If I bring out a compilation, a couple of pages are bound to be dedicated for Lisa. I used to come across her very often, most of the days it was a chance meeting, albeit on different days but the time was precise, synonymous to “daily soaps”. She was little above 5’, bright complexion, thin, and green eyes, fairly attractive. A heartwarming greet from her in the morning was always a pleasant way to start the day.
She was one of those who can speak non-stop for eras, in a way it was good for me because I never got bored of the silence but of her blabber. One of the things that a person will like on first visit to US is the silence all around, but the same stillness, after sometime drive’s crazy, thanks to the noise that I am so accustomed to in my country. The clatter always gives me a feeling that I am alive and there are so many people around me.
Lisa is no different than any other lady nothing unique but still she was interesting, I remember, that day she seemed disturbed. To my “how are you?” she responded, “not so good, in fact the night too”. Apparently, she lost one of her classmates during the late night party. The initial investigation confirmed, cause of death as, fall from the terrace, she was over drunk. I could feel Lisa was unable to control her emotions while narrating the sequence of the tragedy, she was disturbed of the untimely death and also upset because of the growing menace of addiction, alcohol, drugs, in society. Her own sister was addicted and had to be admitted to rehab, Lisa alone took the initiative to place her in de-addiction center and she was finally cured. I was so absorbed in the conversation that I did not realize when the cab stopped near my office. Lisa pulled out an invoice, scribbled the amount with an unsteady hand and passed it to me.
In 36 days of stay and probably 8 meetings, I observed extreme emotions of Lisa. Believe me, everyday she had something to share. If anybody asks me, what was one of the things I enjoyed, meeting Lisa will be in the list. The other day, I asked about one of her colleague, Carlos. Audibly, he sounded sober, gentle, probably had a great attitude and was also blessed with energetic, animated voice. Audibly because I never met him, since he worked in the front office and used to double as call receiver. I can bet no one can forget his impressive voice, as if confidence and warmth oozes through the vocal chords. Lisa entirely agreed and also added that he was a caring and very helping boss, in the office. The conscious comment, “in the office”, sounded out of place, nevertheless I didn’t ask for any explanation. After few minutes I was made aware of the reason, she did not consider him as boss, and the reason she cited, “he went out with me number of times”. I thought, what a poor soul, he has committed a sin by going out, thus losing all the respect that he obtained from others in office except her, by virtue of his position. As usual I reached where I had to, the window to the wonderful and interesting world of Lisa closed for the day. Again, I noticed her unstable hand when she wrote the invoice. Last time it was probably because of tragedy but why again? Is it due to weakness or something else? Anyway, I picked the invoice and without caring much, bounced out of the cab.
In the middle of my stay, one day while commuting to office, from the rear seat I saw a queue of halted cars on the break down lane of the interstate highway and in the front, a police officer was talking to someone. I asked Lisa “what is going on?” she said, “it is an accident but wait…” we passed through the middle lane, “uh ah! The cars are not supposed to be driven on breakdown lane during this hour, so they will be penalized and will have to pay close to $100”. I said, “thank god, it is not an accident, and they are not penalized by paying their lives”. I am amazed Lisa did not miss the opportunity to find and share two more stories on the basis of this incidence. First was not so astonishing because it is common in western world and second was not of importance, when she was booked because of somebody else’s rash driving. She used to take pride whenever she saw officer’s on the road, no she was not an ex officer, but yes, her ex hubby was one in a good post. And I am sure she must have used the name whenever she faced any trouble. Tell me, how much does it matter even if she is no more with him, as long as purpose is solved and she has bailed out of the situation?
Separation did not mean she was alone, in the past another guy not only came into her life but also moved into her house and in her words, “he was very handsome, gentle, kind hearted and understanding”. But they could not stay together for long. Apparently, they also planned for a baby, but fate had something else in store, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. One day, he just left the house because he did not want her to suffer. Indeed, I too feel he is very understanding and courageous. When I get sick, I look for close ones and this person on the contrary, went away from those whom he considered to be close with. But the question is why on earth she allowed him to leave and where was he now? I decided not to ask the question, since it was very personal. The question haunted me till my last day in Boston.
The days passed by, then came 14th day of October and was time for me to fly back. I was all set for the return journey and was also very happy. I called the cab company to get me drop to Logan airport. En-route to airport I started a conversation with the cabbie whom I had never seen before. Mike only used to work on weekend for the company that was the reason I had never met him before. Keeping a sharp eye on the road, every few minutes Mike uttered, “See on your left” or “see on your right”, a self proclaimed guide was kind enough to show me places that were falling beside the road. I was not keen much on any earthly object at that point in time, still I kept responding casually with disinterest. A little while after, interrupting him I enquired, “Isn’t Carlos in office today?” He replied, “Do you know Carlos? No, he is on day off today.” Without a pause, he continued, “Carlos is a very good guy and helping too, while it is really great to know such a person, it is also very unfortunate that he is suffering from prostate cancer. You know good guys do not live longer.” I could not believe what I was hearing, I was at loss of words, it was awfully painful, I could not say anything except, “it is shocking. God, show your mercy.” The shock added to the prevailing silence. Neither of us spoke there after, till I reached airport. Mike wished me a safe return journey. I thanked him and with a heavy heart, quietly followed the path to the entrance.
If I bring out a compilation, a couple of pages are bound to be dedicated for Lisa. I used to come across her very often, most of the days it was a chance meeting, albeit on different days but the time was precise, synonymous to “daily soaps”. She was little above 5’, bright complexion, thin, and green eyes, fairly attractive. A heartwarming greet from her in the morning was always a pleasant way to start the day.
She was one of those who can speak non-stop for eras, in a way it was good for me because I never got bored of the silence but of her blabber. One of the things that a person will like on first visit to US is the silence all around, but the same stillness, after sometime drive’s crazy, thanks to the noise that I am so accustomed to in my country. The clatter always gives me a feeling that I am alive and there are so many people around me.
Lisa is no different than any other lady nothing unique but still she was interesting, I remember, that day she seemed disturbed. To my “how are you?” she responded, “not so good, in fact the night too”. Apparently, she lost one of her classmates during the late night party. The initial investigation confirmed, cause of death as, fall from the terrace, she was over drunk. I could feel Lisa was unable to control her emotions while narrating the sequence of the tragedy, she was disturbed of the untimely death and also upset because of the growing menace of addiction, alcohol, drugs, in society. Her own sister was addicted and had to be admitted to rehab, Lisa alone took the initiative to place her in de-addiction center and she was finally cured. I was so absorbed in the conversation that I did not realize when the cab stopped near my office. Lisa pulled out an invoice, scribbled the amount with an unsteady hand and passed it to me.
In 36 days of stay and probably 8 meetings, I observed extreme emotions of Lisa. Believe me, everyday she had something to share. If anybody asks me, what was one of the things I enjoyed, meeting Lisa will be in the list. The other day, I asked about one of her colleague, Carlos. Audibly, he sounded sober, gentle, probably had a great attitude and was also blessed with energetic, animated voice. Audibly because I never met him, since he worked in the front office and used to double as call receiver. I can bet no one can forget his impressive voice, as if confidence and warmth oozes through the vocal chords. Lisa entirely agreed and also added that he was a caring and very helping boss, in the office. The conscious comment, “in the office”, sounded out of place, nevertheless I didn’t ask for any explanation. After few minutes I was made aware of the reason, she did not consider him as boss, and the reason she cited, “he went out with me number of times”. I thought, what a poor soul, he has committed a sin by going out, thus losing all the respect that he obtained from others in office except her, by virtue of his position. As usual I reached where I had to, the window to the wonderful and interesting world of Lisa closed for the day. Again, I noticed her unstable hand when she wrote the invoice. Last time it was probably because of tragedy but why again? Is it due to weakness or something else? Anyway, I picked the invoice and without caring much, bounced out of the cab.
In the middle of my stay, one day while commuting to office, from the rear seat I saw a queue of halted cars on the break down lane of the interstate highway and in the front, a police officer was talking to someone. I asked Lisa “what is going on?” she said, “it is an accident but wait…” we passed through the middle lane, “uh ah! The cars are not supposed to be driven on breakdown lane during this hour, so they will be penalized and will have to pay close to $100”. I said, “thank god, it is not an accident, and they are not penalized by paying their lives”. I am amazed Lisa did not miss the opportunity to find and share two more stories on the basis of this incidence. First was not so astonishing because it is common in western world and second was not of importance, when she was booked because of somebody else’s rash driving. She used to take pride whenever she saw officer’s on the road, no she was not an ex officer, but yes, her ex hubby was one in a good post. And I am sure she must have used the name whenever she faced any trouble. Tell me, how much does it matter even if she is no more with him, as long as purpose is solved and she has bailed out of the situation?
Separation did not mean she was alone, in the past another guy not only came into her life but also moved into her house and in her words, “he was very handsome, gentle, kind hearted and understanding”. But they could not stay together for long. Apparently, they also planned for a baby, but fate had something else in store, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. One day, he just left the house because he did not want her to suffer. Indeed, I too feel he is very understanding and courageous. When I get sick, I look for close ones and this person on the contrary, went away from those whom he considered to be close with. But the question is why on earth she allowed him to leave and where was he now? I decided not to ask the question, since it was very personal. The question haunted me till my last day in Boston.
The days passed by, then came 14th day of October and was time for me to fly back. I was all set for the return journey and was also very happy. I called the cab company to get me drop to Logan airport. En-route to airport I started a conversation with the cabbie whom I had never seen before. Mike only used to work on weekend for the company that was the reason I had never met him before. Keeping a sharp eye on the road, every few minutes Mike uttered, “See on your left” or “see on your right”, a self proclaimed guide was kind enough to show me places that were falling beside the road. I was not keen much on any earthly object at that point in time, still I kept responding casually with disinterest. A little while after, interrupting him I enquired, “Isn’t Carlos in office today?” He replied, “Do you know Carlos? No, he is on day off today.” Without a pause, he continued, “Carlos is a very good guy and helping too, while it is really great to know such a person, it is also very unfortunate that he is suffering from prostate cancer. You know good guys do not live longer.” I could not believe what I was hearing, I was at loss of words, it was awfully painful, I could not say anything except, “it is shocking. God, show your mercy.” The shock added to the prevailing silence. Neither of us spoke there after, till I reached airport. Mike wished me a safe return journey. I thanked him and with a heavy heart, quietly followed the path to the entrance.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Cross Pollination
Along with the rest of the things that I have realized and learned in Bangalore, I realized the meaning of the word attrition. It is more because of where I was born and brought up, I did not care to realize the meaning. Actually, we do not come across this word even by chance in armed forces. I have observed, a defense personnel leaves a job only either with dignity and pride (after retirement) or embarrassment (after court martial).
The other day, I was out for lunch at well known golf resort off Mysore road. When I was entering the dinning room, I noticed, at the far end of the room one of the waiters was smiling at me. I smiled back in reciprocation and continued with my meal. After sometime I felt, I have seen the person somewhere else, but I could not recollect where. After settling the bill, while I was exiting, the same person came to me and said, “Sir, Srikant, do you remember me?” after a brief pause, I replied, “Oh yes Srikant, how are you? How come you are here?”. Although, I precisely knew what he was doing there, I asked him that silly question.
I was meeting Srikant after a gap of almost 7 months. Last time, when I saw him he was working for another small restaurant in the city where he was coordinating between the waiters, probably he was a head waiter. It must be sheer coincidence, I have been meeting Srikant time and again. First time, he was working for a club where I frequented for recreation almost everyday, last year. He has not changed much, except, he has grown, presumably in terms of his designation (and/or remuneration). Srikant is as envisioned as any other person in IT (information technology) sector, who can see himself big, in future. His vision motivated him to change jobs very often. Albeit, rolling stone did not gather moss but it definitely gathered motion this time. I do not know if he could finally reach where he wanted to see himself.
With my little experience, I have found immediate advantages of shifting jobs and to my astonishment the disadvantages are fewer. Change of a company is as good as changing a project within the same company, unless of course, if you do not get a hike or a promotion. Although, there is a probability of working with the same person in the same company, adding to the comfort, but at the price of growing personal network in the new company with new team members. Remember, one should not miss an opportunity to grow his personal network. Another worthwhile benefit, the new environment will keep oneself amused for some more time, before the decision to move on prevails.
On the other hand employer gets better of the employee (who leaves) because, when there is attrition, recruitment follows. The lateral hires bring in new ideas, new imagination and residual of the best practices from all the previous organizations. I feel, an organization must motivate people to go away, so that prospect to evolve and grow is not lost, from never ending cross pollination (the transfer of pollen from one of the flower of one plant to the flowers of a different plant, via bees – one of the mediums).
I was wondering, if the same logic is applied for armed forces what will be the outcome, will the defense personnel have same prospects and benefits. Assume, what if, a soldier from one armed of the forces of one country joins another country’s force. Frankly, I have not heard anything like that till now and may God forbid such instances in the future. But if in case it happens, will I be safe and secure, as I am today? Will I be merrily shifting jobs (only if we had enough jobs in India)? I am happy to keep the question unresolved keeping my earnest faith on God.
And with the hope of shifting jobs frequently, I recollect the Arabian proverb - “He who has health has hope; and he who has hope has everything.”
The other day, I was out for lunch at well known golf resort off Mysore road. When I was entering the dinning room, I noticed, at the far end of the room one of the waiters was smiling at me. I smiled back in reciprocation and continued with my meal. After sometime I felt, I have seen the person somewhere else, but I could not recollect where. After settling the bill, while I was exiting, the same person came to me and said, “Sir, Srikant, do you remember me?” after a brief pause, I replied, “Oh yes Srikant, how are you? How come you are here?”. Although, I precisely knew what he was doing there, I asked him that silly question.
I was meeting Srikant after a gap of almost 7 months. Last time, when I saw him he was working for another small restaurant in the city where he was coordinating between the waiters, probably he was a head waiter. It must be sheer coincidence, I have been meeting Srikant time and again. First time, he was working for a club where I frequented for recreation almost everyday, last year. He has not changed much, except, he has grown, presumably in terms of his designation (and/or remuneration). Srikant is as envisioned as any other person in IT (information technology) sector, who can see himself big, in future. His vision motivated him to change jobs very often. Albeit, rolling stone did not gather moss but it definitely gathered motion this time. I do not know if he could finally reach where he wanted to see himself.
With my little experience, I have found immediate advantages of shifting jobs and to my astonishment the disadvantages are fewer. Change of a company is as good as changing a project within the same company, unless of course, if you do not get a hike or a promotion. Although, there is a probability of working with the same person in the same company, adding to the comfort, but at the price of growing personal network in the new company with new team members. Remember, one should not miss an opportunity to grow his personal network. Another worthwhile benefit, the new environment will keep oneself amused for some more time, before the decision to move on prevails.
On the other hand employer gets better of the employee (who leaves) because, when there is attrition, recruitment follows. The lateral hires bring in new ideas, new imagination and residual of the best practices from all the previous organizations. I feel, an organization must motivate people to go away, so that prospect to evolve and grow is not lost, from never ending cross pollination (the transfer of pollen from one of the flower of one plant to the flowers of a different plant, via bees – one of the mediums).
I was wondering, if the same logic is applied for armed forces what will be the outcome, will the defense personnel have same prospects and benefits. Assume, what if, a soldier from one armed of the forces of one country joins another country’s force. Frankly, I have not heard anything like that till now and may God forbid such instances in the future. But if in case it happens, will I be safe and secure, as I am today? Will I be merrily shifting jobs (only if we had enough jobs in India)? I am happy to keep the question unresolved keeping my earnest faith on God.
And with the hope of shifting jobs frequently, I recollect the Arabian proverb - “He who has health has hope; and he who has hope has everything.”
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Another day in Paradise
My friend and colleague decided to drop me home after office hours last evening. Following a sudden downpour, we were forced to take shelter at a BMTC bus stand for while. Our travel was smooth and my “Schumi” (for Schumacher style of driving) friend was driving through the busy road by cutting and squeezing through the heavy traffic. He remains cautious when I’m the pillion rider.
I had an opportunity to glance at the vehicles beside our scooter at a traffic signal - one of the busiest crossings of south-west Bangalore. Suddenly, a hawk-eyed motorist, after crossing the positions of the traffic cops (generally, it was retiring time for the cops), raised his accelerator and sped off.
Though my friend was provoked by this unlawful act and wanted to take action, I prevented him from doing so telling from behind that we have a whole lifetime to reach our destination.
A dimly lit Sumo caught my eyes. Vermillion smeared, Ganeshji was seen resting peacefully in “abhaya mudra” (fear not), over the dashboard under a garland of dead flowers. I also saw four others with a tired look, eagerly waiting to call it a day, except the driver. The drivers work overtime to earn a few extra bucks (work hours directly proportional to the money). At times, they are at the steering wheel for 18-20 exhaustive hours. These industrious drivers, when they get the odd free time in between drops, have their lunch and take a nap.
A fatigued middle-aged person sitting beside the driver was attending a call and was probably discussing about tasks to be completed with his project team, or conversing with his partner to round-off things, which needed his immediate attention at home.
It seemed he was desperately trying to quickly close the conference call and rest a little bit before resuming his routine work. The other three sitting behind him were from the “Generation X”. One of them was audibly disconnected (courtesy ear plugs) from the outer world as he was absorbed in enjoying music by ‘nodding’ his head periodically and relaxing after a hard day’s work. Thanks to easy availability of appliances like I-pods and cell phones, there is no need of carrying their heavier cousin (better known as Walkman).
While wondering how easy it was to disconnect oneself from the world, I noticed the person who was sitting beside him was also visually disconnected, either sleeping or meditating. A friend of mine says that the “Best time to meditate is when you are commuting”, I tried implementing the same, and as a result, I ended up snoozing during my return journey. Anyway, I found this as a better way to relax and I practice it till date.
Believe me, a quick nap is as refreshing as having a bottle of cola on dry and thirsty day. The last person sitting beside the window was attentive. He didn’t want to ignore anything that was happening around him as I could see his weary eyes catching glimpses. Unfortunately, he caught me observing. I am sure he must have wondered as to why I was looking at them with curiosity.
Merely in the two minutes of waiting at the signal, the whole world revolved around me with so many things taking place. While I was still thinking about the scene, I reached my destination. I was dropped, but I couldn’t drop this view that lingered in my mind long after that.
A quote by Donald Curtis is relevant today – “Relaxation means releasing all concern and tension and letting the natural order of life flow through one's being”
I had an opportunity to glance at the vehicles beside our scooter at a traffic signal - one of the busiest crossings of south-west Bangalore. Suddenly, a hawk-eyed motorist, after crossing the positions of the traffic cops (generally, it was retiring time for the cops), raised his accelerator and sped off.
Though my friend was provoked by this unlawful act and wanted to take action, I prevented him from doing so telling from behind that we have a whole lifetime to reach our destination.
A dimly lit Sumo caught my eyes. Vermillion smeared, Ganeshji was seen resting peacefully in “abhaya mudra” (fear not), over the dashboard under a garland of dead flowers. I also saw four others with a tired look, eagerly waiting to call it a day, except the driver. The drivers work overtime to earn a few extra bucks (work hours directly proportional to the money). At times, they are at the steering wheel for 18-20 exhaustive hours. These industrious drivers, when they get the odd free time in between drops, have their lunch and take a nap.
A fatigued middle-aged person sitting beside the driver was attending a call and was probably discussing about tasks to be completed with his project team, or conversing with his partner to round-off things, which needed his immediate attention at home.
It seemed he was desperately trying to quickly close the conference call and rest a little bit before resuming his routine work. The other three sitting behind him were from the “Generation X”. One of them was audibly disconnected (courtesy ear plugs) from the outer world as he was absorbed in enjoying music by ‘nodding’ his head periodically and relaxing after a hard day’s work. Thanks to easy availability of appliances like I-pods and cell phones, there is no need of carrying their heavier cousin (better known as Walkman).
While wondering how easy it was to disconnect oneself from the world, I noticed the person who was sitting beside him was also visually disconnected, either sleeping or meditating. A friend of mine says that the “Best time to meditate is when you are commuting”, I tried implementing the same, and as a result, I ended up snoozing during my return journey. Anyway, I found this as a better way to relax and I practice it till date.
Believe me, a quick nap is as refreshing as having a bottle of cola on dry and thirsty day. The last person sitting beside the window was attentive. He didn’t want to ignore anything that was happening around him as I could see his weary eyes catching glimpses. Unfortunately, he caught me observing. I am sure he must have wondered as to why I was looking at them with curiosity.
Merely in the two minutes of waiting at the signal, the whole world revolved around me with so many things taking place. While I was still thinking about the scene, I reached my destination. I was dropped, but I couldn’t drop this view that lingered in my mind long after that.
A quote by Donald Curtis is relevant today – “Relaxation means releasing all concern and tension and letting the natural order of life flow through one's being”
Fond Memories
The best days of my life (as a kid) that I treasure most were those that I spent with my grandparents. As my father was in a transferable job, we had to shift from city to city every 3-4 years. The pain of leaving behind friends and relatives is unbearable. After couple of transfers, I learned to withstand the agony of leaving behind near and dear ones.
Memories of that summer are still fresh when my father announced as soon as he came back from office, “We are going to Bombay. I have been posted out.” I could foresee best days of my life coming to an end; meeting my grandparents from almost every month would be restricted to only two months during my school summer vacation.
Every year I used to eagerly wait to get promoted to my next class so that I get my new books to read. This year, I earned the unwelcome bonus, too – new place, new people, new school, new teachers, new uncles and aunts. I was like a seedling transplanted to an unknown environment, anticipating growth. We shifted to our new accommodation in Bombay (bustling city even during early 80s, two-wheelers were strict no on roads). Gradually, I began settling down in the new city in the midst of unknown people.
First thing in the evening, after coming back from my school, I would enquire whether Ma (mother) has received any letters from Dadu (grandfather) or not. Often, my desperation for his letters used to take me to nearest mail despatch section (inside the campus). His postcards had a unique look, neatly written using blue ink fountain pen (some of us might have seen but not have used), which reminded me how upset he was when I mischievously replaced his fountain pen with another ballpoint pen. His postcards were like bag full of gifts for me – they had information about every small thing I was attached to in my village. Starting from my fishing tool (unattended), about the little calf, the plant we jointly planted and watered. His letters, albeit brief were sufficiently detailed that after reading them I could exactly imagine and predict when and around what time he must have written a particular letter.
During next two years I could sense the expectancy and anticipation waning. Not the least because I was growing materialistic with the city, but I guess age was catching up with him. Now, he would manage to complete his letters over weeks and sometimes, even months, unlike earlier days when they were so much more frequent. At times, the completed postcard slept in between pages of his diary as he forgot to drop it in the mailbox.
All kids look forward to the month of May because for most of them last day of annual examination falls in that month. But for me it was the time that I did not have to wait for the postman for letters, instead only wait for the train to reach Kharagpur railway station. My fun days were again back, even if it was only for next 50 days. My grandparents were like genies who fulfilled all my wishes – protected me from scolding, beating (courtesy my parents) even if I did something wrong. Granny gave me the liberty of choosing what I wanted to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and everybody was supposed to eat the same. Today, I wonder how I kept myself absorbed in my own world of wonders that included sprinting behind the calf, plucking mangoes and dates, chucking pebbles at ducks near the pond and in between sneaking into granny’s kitchen, expecting some sweets. No sweets? Never mind I will be fine with fresh sugarcane jaggery.
As the village had no electricity, every evening neighbors and relatives would gather and share their stories of the year gone by. And it was the time for me to quietly slip into vicinity of my grandfather, listen to his stories from the past and retire under the quilt of his warm affection.
As all good things come to an end, so also my two-month stay with my grandparents. The days had gone by so fast and it was time for my return journey with the sweet taste of jaggery and even sweeter memories of the vacation lingering in my mind and consciousness. Again a long wait for next year May.
How right Horace Mann was when he said “Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever.” The only difference was that his two golden hours and sixty diamond minutes were, in my case, two golden months and sixty (almost) diamond days.
Memories of that summer are still fresh when my father announced as soon as he came back from office, “We are going to Bombay. I have been posted out.” I could foresee best days of my life coming to an end; meeting my grandparents from almost every month would be restricted to only two months during my school summer vacation.
Every year I used to eagerly wait to get promoted to my next class so that I get my new books to read. This year, I earned the unwelcome bonus, too – new place, new people, new school, new teachers, new uncles and aunts. I was like a seedling transplanted to an unknown environment, anticipating growth. We shifted to our new accommodation in Bombay (bustling city even during early 80s, two-wheelers were strict no on roads). Gradually, I began settling down in the new city in the midst of unknown people.
First thing in the evening, after coming back from my school, I would enquire whether Ma (mother) has received any letters from Dadu (grandfather) or not. Often, my desperation for his letters used to take me to nearest mail despatch section (inside the campus). His postcards had a unique look, neatly written using blue ink fountain pen (some of us might have seen but not have used), which reminded me how upset he was when I mischievously replaced his fountain pen with another ballpoint pen. His postcards were like bag full of gifts for me – they had information about every small thing I was attached to in my village. Starting from my fishing tool (unattended), about the little calf, the plant we jointly planted and watered. His letters, albeit brief were sufficiently detailed that after reading them I could exactly imagine and predict when and around what time he must have written a particular letter.
During next two years I could sense the expectancy and anticipation waning. Not the least because I was growing materialistic with the city, but I guess age was catching up with him. Now, he would manage to complete his letters over weeks and sometimes, even months, unlike earlier days when they were so much more frequent. At times, the completed postcard slept in between pages of his diary as he forgot to drop it in the mailbox.
All kids look forward to the month of May because for most of them last day of annual examination falls in that month. But for me it was the time that I did not have to wait for the postman for letters, instead only wait for the train to reach Kharagpur railway station. My fun days were again back, even if it was only for next 50 days. My grandparents were like genies who fulfilled all my wishes – protected me from scolding, beating (courtesy my parents) even if I did something wrong. Granny gave me the liberty of choosing what I wanted to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and everybody was supposed to eat the same. Today, I wonder how I kept myself absorbed in my own world of wonders that included sprinting behind the calf, plucking mangoes and dates, chucking pebbles at ducks near the pond and in between sneaking into granny’s kitchen, expecting some sweets. No sweets? Never mind I will be fine with fresh sugarcane jaggery.
As the village had no electricity, every evening neighbors and relatives would gather and share their stories of the year gone by. And it was the time for me to quietly slip into vicinity of my grandfather, listen to his stories from the past and retire under the quilt of his warm affection.
As all good things come to an end, so also my two-month stay with my grandparents. The days had gone by so fast and it was time for my return journey with the sweet taste of jaggery and even sweeter memories of the vacation lingering in my mind and consciousness. Again a long wait for next year May.
How right Horace Mann was when he said “Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever.” The only difference was that his two golden hours and sixty diamond minutes were, in my case, two golden months and sixty (almost) diamond days.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Life on D-Day
It was a mid-summer dawn. I woke up with the regular gurgling and subdued whistling of mynas. Mother Nature remained faithful even on this day, by giving me the wake up alarm. My quarter was in the campus, which was near the bank of river Hooghly and was greener than other parts of the suburb. As a result, I had the opportunity to see Mother Nature up close, cradling in her bosom, a diverse variety of insects, birds and animals. This morning, albeit pleasant as any other, still was very different. I have been long waiting for this day, but on this very day lots of unfinished thoughts are creeping into my mind and preying on my brain cells.
Usually my day begins with a morning walk, followed by little work at home dusting, cleaning, after refreshing, a small breakfast and ready for office. This day, too, was unfolding in the same manner. Reached office sharp on time (as usual), after exchanging greetings with colleagues and subordinates, settled down on my chair, still the precipitancy of thoughts plundering my nerves, disallowing me to concentrate on my task, which includes daily follow up with all pending cases, going through the duty roster, planning for the coming week and interacting with people (part of job of a person posted in a liaison unit). In came Robi-da with his never-ending smile, served my cup of tea in his natural style, a half salute and “Shu-probhat Sir” (Shu-probhat means Good Morning). In last 2 years, I have never seen Robi-da grumbling or cribbing about anything in life, a man of strong character, today didn’t seem like his day. Is it just my feeling that I can easily make out, although he was smiling but he was trying to hide his grim face? Day started and I got caught up with an important task and all those thoughts sprinted off my mind. Whoever came to office today for official purpose came to see me, as if everybody knew the significance of this day in my life.
I was craving for this freedom from arduous life, to do something for myself, to do something out of the normal streamlined schedules. Today, when I am so close to my life’s unfulfilled desire, conflicting thoughts are pinning me, on whether was it right 6 months back, when I denied signing the continuation of service agreement to stay for 5 more years and accepted a voluntary retirement. Perhaps, my decision was right. I had spent a large share of my life serving – serving to different needs of family. Everybody’s wishes have almost been fulfilled and now its turn to repay myself of the hard work of past almost three decades. Till this time I earned my wages, today will be earning my discharge and tomorrow, freedom with all savings of a government official, pension. A few more hours and then I will have all the time in the world. There will no need to race against time, no work pressure. But if I have no work, then, how will I pass my whole day? Probably, I will spend more time with family. Family? But everyone will be engaged with their own work. Who will have time for me? I might be a foreigner in my own home, a stranger in abnormal hours. Oh my God, I have never come across such bizarre thoughts in my life ever.
Morning comes, Mother Nature will again ring her alarm, but alas, this will never be an early wake up call for me, nothing will change in my office, except my presence on duty, around my people, Robi-da’s smile and a half salute. My desk, chair and cupboard in office, everything will be in the same position, except my position.
By the end of the day I was almost through with handing over my charges to one of my colleagues. Everybody in my department was waiting for the get-together that was arranged just to see me off on my last day. Gathering turned gloomy in minutes as if performing last rites of a departed soul. Even though I was trying to change the topic of discussion but everything was in vain. That is when I realized that my thoughts and speech are inseparable. At this hour, on lighter note, the only quote which I am reminded of is by Mark Twain: “There has been much tragedy in my life; at least half of it actually happened.”
Usually my day begins with a morning walk, followed by little work at home dusting, cleaning, after refreshing, a small breakfast and ready for office. This day, too, was unfolding in the same manner. Reached office sharp on time (as usual), after exchanging greetings with colleagues and subordinates, settled down on my chair, still the precipitancy of thoughts plundering my nerves, disallowing me to concentrate on my task, which includes daily follow up with all pending cases, going through the duty roster, planning for the coming week and interacting with people (part of job of a person posted in a liaison unit). In came Robi-da with his never-ending smile, served my cup of tea in his natural style, a half salute and “Shu-probhat Sir” (Shu-probhat means Good Morning). In last 2 years, I have never seen Robi-da grumbling or cribbing about anything in life, a man of strong character, today didn’t seem like his day. Is it just my feeling that I can easily make out, although he was smiling but he was trying to hide his grim face? Day started and I got caught up with an important task and all those thoughts sprinted off my mind. Whoever came to office today for official purpose came to see me, as if everybody knew the significance of this day in my life.
I was craving for this freedom from arduous life, to do something for myself, to do something out of the normal streamlined schedules. Today, when I am so close to my life’s unfulfilled desire, conflicting thoughts are pinning me, on whether was it right 6 months back, when I denied signing the continuation of service agreement to stay for 5 more years and accepted a voluntary retirement. Perhaps, my decision was right. I had spent a large share of my life serving – serving to different needs of family. Everybody’s wishes have almost been fulfilled and now its turn to repay myself of the hard work of past almost three decades. Till this time I earned my wages, today will be earning my discharge and tomorrow, freedom with all savings of a government official, pension. A few more hours and then I will have all the time in the world. There will no need to race against time, no work pressure. But if I have no work, then, how will I pass my whole day? Probably, I will spend more time with family. Family? But everyone will be engaged with their own work. Who will have time for me? I might be a foreigner in my own home, a stranger in abnormal hours. Oh my God, I have never come across such bizarre thoughts in my life ever.
Morning comes, Mother Nature will again ring her alarm, but alas, this will never be an early wake up call for me, nothing will change in my office, except my presence on duty, around my people, Robi-da’s smile and a half salute. My desk, chair and cupboard in office, everything will be in the same position, except my position.
By the end of the day I was almost through with handing over my charges to one of my colleagues. Everybody in my department was waiting for the get-together that was arranged just to see me off on my last day. Gathering turned gloomy in minutes as if performing last rites of a departed soul. Even though I was trying to change the topic of discussion but everything was in vain. That is when I realized that my thoughts and speech are inseparable. At this hour, on lighter note, the only quote which I am reminded of is by Mark Twain: “There has been much tragedy in my life; at least half of it actually happened.”
Aboard K9 Down
“Brother, little faster.” someone from the queue quipped. Without slowing down my pace I turned to see on whom the pun was intended. It was directed at the person who was issuing tickets from the other side of the counter. I was fortunate that I didn’t have to wait in queue to buy my ticket, since I had my season pass. Yes, but once a quarter I stand in the queue for renewing the pass. Believe me, the waiting time is not boring because everyone in the queue has something to share. You’ll hear people sharing their previous experiences of buying ticket or commenting on competency of the railway staff or even to the extent of criticizing a political party with politically right (subjective term though) remarks.
Since I had to park myself at the station before the train came, I was literally galloping, my breathing was competing against my brisk walk and I was confused as to who will finally score a win over the other. I was gasping for air when I finally climbed down the stairs of overhead bridge and landed on platform number 2.
While walking (caring not to step over bird droppings or birds dropping over me!) over the platform to find a proper place to wait, I observed a mysterious pattern the way passengers were waiting in groups with a gap of few feet in between, identical to the parade group waiting for march-past (you may have seen it on TV on 26th January during your younger days). Each group seemed to have equal number of heads and to my astonishment they all were discussing (contributing to the discussion) on some or other topic as if they were members of the same family, albeit they were, but of Global family, “Vasudev kutumbakum” as addressed by Vivekananda in one of his famous speech. I didn’t find any reason to join any of the groups, and waited alone in-between. Couple of minutes later, I realized the group gathered some momentum, anticipating the arrival of the train from the sound of the air horn. Within half a minute, the train rumbled past the platform without halting (reminding me of Doppler’s Effect). I could save myself from bird droppings but not from shower of dry dust, courtesy “Galloping Train”. Galloping trains are trains which only stop at some platform and not all.
Finally, the train arrived (K9 Down – From Kalyani to Sealdah, 2 terminal stations in the main line of Eastern Railway). It was quite picturesque view and looked like I had entered painters gallery – the outer walls of the compartment had a green backdrop and had been spray painted with red stains (we Indian’s always believe in natural coloring like betel leaf etc.). I was wondering why do people spend so much time to visit Exhibitions (in search of masterpiece). But please don’t conclude that this is the case round the year. Generally the outer walls (more fortunate than the inner ones) gets a washing during every monsoon. Inner walls had a total different look (painted in dull yellow, probably when coated for the only time, the color was bright yellow and got a dull look with passing time). The wall was meant for everyone other than the passengers. It was up and standing only for the advertisers who paste graffiti. Graffiti varied from addresses of quack doctors, curing secret diseases (such as alcoholism, smoking, etc.) to receiving degrees from universities (I am sure even UGC must not have heard the names of those shady universities).
With the arrival of the train one of the mysteries unraveled. As soon as the train came to a gradual halt, I found all the doors of the compartments falling exactly in front of the groups (commented earlier). I realized, I did a blunder not finding a reason to join any of the groups and stood in between. I realized I was in the middle of nowhere – neither could I avail the front door nor could I avail the rear door. In seconds, the group turned individualistic. After settling, they will look for other members of the group who couldn’t make it, so that they can show their sympathy the very next meeting anywhere.
All the passengers who could board (unfortunately I wasn’t one of them), once again proved Darwin’s theory of “Survival of the Fittest” was right and they successfully crossed the first hurdle. Now the number of hurdles are dependent on number of stations where the train will halt (if finding a proper place to stand is difficult, getting a place to sit is beyond dreams). It is foolish to believe that someone is comfortable inside the compartment. A passenger is only comfortable and safe when he is no more a passenger (till his exit out of the platform).
By the way, that day I had to miss 3 trains. With every missed train, I learnt lessons 1 to 3 on how not to board a packed train. Ok, let me be sincere in confessing, I was building myself mentally. I kept asking myself, why should I always be a Trojan and not Achilles? And there onwards I was Achilles for next 5 years. Yes, I had to pay my part of the price, first time I was victim of pickpocket (lost my ID card and handkerchief from back pocket) and second time one co-passenger tore of pocket of my favorite shirt.
I can still recollect what one of the passengers (foot inside the train, but practically hanging outside the door) commented to another fellow passenger (on the station), when he was trying to force himself inside the train, “Brother do you feel that this bogey is a tin of puffed rice, the more you shake, the more you have space to stuff more?”
Since I had to park myself at the station before the train came, I was literally galloping, my breathing was competing against my brisk walk and I was confused as to who will finally score a win over the other. I was gasping for air when I finally climbed down the stairs of overhead bridge and landed on platform number 2.
While walking (caring not to step over bird droppings or birds dropping over me!) over the platform to find a proper place to wait, I observed a mysterious pattern the way passengers were waiting in groups with a gap of few feet in between, identical to the parade group waiting for march-past (you may have seen it on TV on 26th January during your younger days). Each group seemed to have equal number of heads and to my astonishment they all were discussing (contributing to the discussion) on some or other topic as if they were members of the same family, albeit they were, but of Global family, “Vasudev kutumbakum” as addressed by Vivekananda in one of his famous speech. I didn’t find any reason to join any of the groups, and waited alone in-between. Couple of minutes later, I realized the group gathered some momentum, anticipating the arrival of the train from the sound of the air horn. Within half a minute, the train rumbled past the platform without halting (reminding me of Doppler’s Effect). I could save myself from bird droppings but not from shower of dry dust, courtesy “Galloping Train”. Galloping trains are trains which only stop at some platform and not all.
Finally, the train arrived (K9 Down – From Kalyani to Sealdah, 2 terminal stations in the main line of Eastern Railway). It was quite picturesque view and looked like I had entered painters gallery – the outer walls of the compartment had a green backdrop and had been spray painted with red stains (we Indian’s always believe in natural coloring like betel leaf etc.). I was wondering why do people spend so much time to visit Exhibitions (in search of masterpiece). But please don’t conclude that this is the case round the year. Generally the outer walls (more fortunate than the inner ones) gets a washing during every monsoon. Inner walls had a total different look (painted in dull yellow, probably when coated for the only time, the color was bright yellow and got a dull look with passing time). The wall was meant for everyone other than the passengers. It was up and standing only for the advertisers who paste graffiti. Graffiti varied from addresses of quack doctors, curing secret diseases (such as alcoholism, smoking, etc.) to receiving degrees from universities (I am sure even UGC must not have heard the names of those shady universities).
With the arrival of the train one of the mysteries unraveled. As soon as the train came to a gradual halt, I found all the doors of the compartments falling exactly in front of the groups (commented earlier). I realized, I did a blunder not finding a reason to join any of the groups and stood in between. I realized I was in the middle of nowhere – neither could I avail the front door nor could I avail the rear door. In seconds, the group turned individualistic. After settling, they will look for other members of the group who couldn’t make it, so that they can show their sympathy the very next meeting anywhere.
All the passengers who could board (unfortunately I wasn’t one of them), once again proved Darwin’s theory of “Survival of the Fittest” was right and they successfully crossed the first hurdle. Now the number of hurdles are dependent on number of stations where the train will halt (if finding a proper place to stand is difficult, getting a place to sit is beyond dreams). It is foolish to believe that someone is comfortable inside the compartment. A passenger is only comfortable and safe when he is no more a passenger (till his exit out of the platform).
By the way, that day I had to miss 3 trains. With every missed train, I learnt lessons 1 to 3 on how not to board a packed train. Ok, let me be sincere in confessing, I was building myself mentally. I kept asking myself, why should I always be a Trojan and not Achilles? And there onwards I was Achilles for next 5 years. Yes, I had to pay my part of the price, first time I was victim of pickpocket (lost my ID card and handkerchief from back pocket) and second time one co-passenger tore of pocket of my favorite shirt.
I can still recollect what one of the passengers (foot inside the train, but practically hanging outside the door) commented to another fellow passenger (on the station), when he was trying to force himself inside the train, “Brother do you feel that this bogey is a tin of puffed rice, the more you shake, the more you have space to stuff more?”
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