75th: Some Unfinished Business

This is the 75th post for this blog. I thank everyone for visiting and reading.

Wanting to take a walk down memory lane, I thought about highlighting some of this blog's better posts but I've decided to go the other way highlight the worst of this blog, ie, the stuff that even I didn't think was good enough to finish or put up. These are posts that went unfinished and for good reasons too, read on and you'll know why.

(An untitled post written on the morning after a night of drinking )

Its 1:30 PM and I've not had breakfast or lunch, the sun is screaming at us, have a migraine, so the chances of me makign any sense in this post is absofuckinglutely not possible. I realise that by embedding an F word I've officially made it impossible for my mom to see this blog. Yeah, we South Indians still hold on to what we call as moral values, which is the stuff we love rubbing on everyone else's noses.

This reminds me of sex, the taboo topic, does any South Indian remember having the birds and the bees conversation with their parents or any other elders? Or a sex ed class tht we so often hear about from the american media? I sure as hell didn't. Heck when I was 8-9, we sat around after class wondering how babies happened. As we were discussing on how this could happen, we had one nerdy guy was saying that this might involve a man and a woman lying naked together, man the way we laughed at him that evening! He was infact laughed at and ridiculed for the rest of the year, I bet wherever he is, he laugh's his ass of when he remembers the dumbasses in school. We've all had to learn as we go along in our own bumbling ways.

Last night I was at Zara's a local bar that I frequent, there was a Colombian band playing, the lead singer was a boxum redhead earing a extra tight midriff baring number over her ample body (in the colour of screaming red that too). The boys drooling over her had to be seen to be believed. A table of 50+ uncles were getting really tuned into the music, which only sounded at times like SCREEEECHHH, DINGCHAK, DINGCHAK or at times like a military march meets the sounds of the jungle to me. Was it Latino?...who the fuck knew what she were singing, probably an ode to the dumbass drool laden tam boys (and a few girls, what is wrong with chennai these days??????). Back to the uncles, they all looked like they are the type tht would give you a 'in my days, we lived only for our work and family' kinda shit to you, sigh.



(An unfinished post titled "The Case of a Missing Telephone, the case like the post never did have a closure)

0910 hours
Monday Morning
At my workstation

I ain't there.


0959
Hrs Monday Morning
At My Workstation

Still ain't there..Running late aren't we?


1034 Hrs
Monday Morning
At My Workstation

I finally appear. (phew). Fire up my laptop, it wheezes to life. Gulp a cup of hot bournvita, correction Coffee (image man, image!). Reach for the phone to check voice messages. BLING BLING!

No Phone.

I check in the usual places, under the table and the waste basket. Not there!

I reach to call the admin. BLING BLING. No Phone! Cursing, I walk over to my neighbour's workstation, hang his phone mid-sentence, monday morning office romances can wait. I call the admin

Me: Hello, this is R. in the second floor
Sore Throat: Yes
Me: My phone is missing.
Sore Throat: Cell Phone?
Me: No landline.
Sore Throat: Landline?
Me: Landline.
Sore Throat: Not Cellphone? (Einstien!)

Me: Can you send someone up with a replacement?
Sore Throat: Umm...what is your extension?
Me: 4114
Sore Throat: Ok...I will call you back right now
Me: But my phone instrument is gone, how will you call me
Sore Throat: oh?

Sore Throat despatches the Thompson twins (as in the Thompson twins from the Tintin comic series)
Thompson: Err. Mr. R., when was the phone lost?
Me: I saw it last on Thursday when I left town and I just got back today.
Thomson: Ah, it must have been stolen during that time.
Me: (Looking Blank)
Thompson: Did you lock up the phone in your desk drawer?
Me: No. I never do that
Thomson: But for safety, when you are not using your phone you should unplug and lock it up
Me: But what about voice mail? And by the way isn't a phone safe in a bank?
Thomson: Hmm..No..yes..but..Ahhh..
Thompson: Ahhh..

(An untitled & unfinished story)

He opened his eyes slowly. Bright Lights everywhere. As his brain started getting used to the surroundings, he realised that he was in an airport lobby. Airport lobby? He had no idea how he got there. Where was he going? He checked for his laptop bag which should have been on his side. It wasn't there. 'Where am I going?' he thought. He had no idea. Slowly he remembered that he was driving his car in his usual style, fast. Then it all came to him, images of a dog in the middle of the road, him swerving to avoid the dog, the spinning, the crashing noise and the fire..

Cold sweat ran down his back. He could feel his heart beat a crazy tune. He reached slowly to feel his legs and arms. He was ok. OK. He could feel the tension ease, he chuckled. I made it, he thought. Was it a dream? Maybe it was all just a dream. He got up, stretched his long legs. No aches, no stiffness, he felt fitter than ever before. He grinned, he just couldn't believe he made it, boy, what a dream. Coffee. He needed coffee. He looked around, taking in the crowded lobby for the first time. A busy day at the airport. Now, where was he going? He needed coffee, to get his mind working. Too much of travelling for you son, he said to himself. No coffee vendor anywhere. He walked over to the check in counter.

It's funny, he thought, there were large queues for each counter except for the one he was walking towards.

He walked in and putting on his best salesman smile. He said "Hi, how are you doin?"...

(An unfinished post titled 'Death')

Interesting topic to start the week off isn't it? There is so much of seriousness and finality that surrounds death that we don't freely talk about it. Fancily enough the idea for this post came from this new sitcom that I've begun to like called 'Scrubs'. In one of their episodes, this character lists out all the things that he should do before he passes away. Now, I'm not usually fond of creating lists but this one intrigued me. I just wanted to make a realistic list of things that I would like to do (by realistic I'm ruling out a date with Claudia Schiffer in the near future, I don't want go there, our first date didn't go so well, you see).

Anyway, getting to the issue in hand, I thought I should write down fourteen things that I would like to do before I die, being a sort of a checklist. Why fourteen you may ask, why not fourteen is all I have to reply. I have specifically chosen to exclude sex and food from this list because I would end up filling all the entries with them and end up looking like a leery glutton, which I am not, in most part. So without further ado, here is my list of 14, in scrambled order.

13. I would like to travel up a hot air balloon. Heights scare me, the very thought of being stuck in a wicker basket a few thousand feet about the ground at the very least sounds stupid, But you have to admit, it does look beautiful from down below, so I think the scenery from up there should be better

9. I would like to address a crowd of a thousand people. Now I am afraid of speaking in front of a large group of people. While I've been in sales most of my career, I've preferred to deal with one or two individuals at any given point of time. The thought of being in front of a thousand people and not being able to check if the zipper is up is a galling thought but that's a bridge that I must cross. I just have to.

3. I would like to save a life. Hopefully it would be the life of an oversized muscleman, who will then proceed to follow me around and thump anyone who remotely bothers me. Just the thought of a man Friday is fantastic. Well I really can be shallow you see.

11. I would like to shake hands with Boris Becker & Diego Maradona. Two personal heroes!

10. I would like to backpack across Africa. Anyone who knows me, has heard me rant and rave about this for years. Hopefully I will do this before too long.

1. I would like to have a dozen children.

(I had a list of 14 then, I just didn't go the distance with this post. Oh and the unfinished painting put up in this post is of Napoleon started in 1798 by Jacques-Louis David)

For all those who seek love on the Internet...beware...you just might find it

(Have a great week ahead!)

The Pitbull Lady

Early morning air travelers belong to two categories, the groggy or the grumpy. I'm the groggy kind. My weekly trip to Bangalore is usually on the 6 AM Sahara Airways flight. This means that I'm usually up by 3:45 AM to get ready, when I say 'I get up', I use the term loosely since it usually just refers to my body, my mind wakes up after a hot cup of south indian filter coffee at 8:14 AM.

This one trip was no exception, I sleep walked through to the baggage screening area, lugging my two bags along. Suddenly I was rudely pushed away. As I regained balance, I spied a vision in brown rushing past me towards the queue. This turned out to be a lady about 5 ft no inches in height wearing a snarl on her face like that of a Pitbull terrier (atleast like the ones I've seen on TV) . She threw an 'excuse me' at me, which sounded more like a four lettered swear word, ringing a jarring note on that idyllic morning. Her face, I saw, had a natural nastiness that made it ugly, too bad I thought, she might even be pretty if she smiled.

As I reached that line, I could see her pushing her cart against the person ahead of her and trying to get that person off the line. The fact that the Pitbull lady had the permanent snarl on her face seemed to unsettle the sleepy bunch of people in that queue. Soon after, she abandoned any pretenses of being on that line and moved forward directly. This bundle in brown had such a forceful personality that people rather than complaining just let her go. No one knew how to handle her and in any case no one wanted any piece of her. We were just letting her get away with pushing us around, writing it down to this being someone who was late for a flight.

Anyway, I scanned my baggage and while turning the corner to the check-in counter,I could hear loud high pitched growling/shouting which went something like 'how dare you ask me to pay extra for my luggage, you go check your machine, it's not working' and 'do you know who you are talking to??? I want to speak to your manager!'. I immediately realised that the Pitbull lady was at work there too. The counter girl looked like a hunted rabbit, her eyes seemed to desperately search for some help. None was forthcoming. Soon the counter girl gave in and allowed what must have been 7-8 Kgs of extra weight. Apparently no one had a clue as to handle this pint sized pain. As she left the counter, she left on her wake a lot of people gaping at her rudeness, she didn't look like she gave a damn.

When my turn came at the counter I flashed my best "Have a nice day smile" at the harried girl who looked like she might be going through a nervous breakdown. 'Was the flight on time?' I politely encountered to which the flustered girl could only nod.
=
We boarded at 5:40 AM. I settled down in my seat (7C), accepted an orange juice from the smiling flight attendant when I saw the Pitbull lady approaching with her usual scowl lighting up her face. What do you know, she was 7A. I silently mouthed a swear word as I got up to let her in. Soon after I found myself helping her stow up her baggage in the overhead bin since she couldn't reach up, then found myself removing the bags again on her request so that she could get her reading material out. She took it for granted that I would do this, I guess she had the experience in getting people to do what she wanted them to do. I shook my head and sat down.
_
This lady was dispensing bad attitude with a zeal of an overloaded vending machine.

-

She moved into her window seat and buried her nose into her book. Atleast she was very focussed on it, thank god but I wasn't taking any chances, so I kept my eyes averted from her side. As the flight taxied, the cabin lights were dimmed. I could hear a growl next to me. I turned and looked at her. She wanted me to switch on her reading light since she couldn't reach it. Cursing the guy who invented the concept of chivalry, I reached up and turned the light on. I promptly got a scowl & a growl for a thank you, a ray of sunshine she sure wasn't. I was dreading the 40 minute journey sitting next to this lady, I had a very busy day ahead and this lady was well on her way to screwing up my start.

-

When I settled back, I suddenly caught a glimpse of the book she was holding, Hot Chocolate for the Mystical Lover by Ariele Ford. I choked back my laughter. Well well well, what do you know, huh?

-

As the pitbull read her book, I settled back on my seat. I couldn't but help thinking about the poor bastard who was stuck, getting all that hot chocolate lurvin from her. Somehow now my journey didn't appear so long & bad after all, whatever happened in the next 40 minutes, my life was nowhere close to being as fucked as that guy's.

-

Contented, I slowly closed my eyes to grab some shut eye. For some, life really is a bitch ain't it?

.

.

Blank!!

I have nothing to write about, yet all the intent to put up something. I've been thinking that in such moments out of sheer selfishness, I thought I should invite guest posts from the regulars. So, if you are a regular reader of Life and Other Such Events (umm that is this blog, incase you are wondering) and wouldn't mind sullying your reputation by writing a line or two here, please send me an email (the address is in my profile).

The blank page is supposed to be an automatic filter. Anyone who gets to this message makes the cut. If no one figures out this 'cute' trick of mine (which I am shamelessly recycling), then I would have to revert to the original font colour (black), this blog really doesn't have any standards anyways.

-

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Update: After sifting through the 476 responses to this call for guest posts, I've decided that none of those fitted the tone of this blog (well atleast this sounds better than admitting that I got no responses lol)

What would you do?

Imagine you were planning your future and the doctors came and told you 'Hold on, don't plan anything. Give us a week. We'll let you know if you need to plan at all'. What would you do?

Normally, a day in you life is nothing. What if there maybe only 100 of them left or 50 or 30? What would you do?

Would you laugh because there may only be a little time left for laughter ? Or would you cry because your dreams of a tomorrow (not a better tomorrow or a healthier tomorrow but just a tomorrow) may be safely packed away?

That is Nandini's life for you. She is a child who should be going to school and living a full life, yet she is struggling to find answers for these questions.

She needs your prayers.

A Badly Written Poem with an Unoriginal Thought

Our roles in life define us,
Or so they say.
We know our parts but not the words,
So flit between many a cliche.
Confusion within, confusion without,
Why think? we are just bit actors in a grand play.

We smile if happy, cry if sad, fight if slighted,
It's the same from New york to Bombay,
Who leads who? What leads who?
It's hard to tell on any given day,
Confusion within, confusion without,
Why think? we are just bit actors in a grand play.

(I am not a poetry freak, far from it, I can't understand most modern verse, to me you gotta spell it out in black and white, no shades of grey or pink or orange or whatever colour, just black and white and poets seldom do that. Apart from the poems that I had to read in school, I have never read popular poetry. When I approached this post I was only armed with the knowledge that I had to get rhyming words in the end of each line or each alternate line, thats it. So I dunno if you like one this but I personally prefer the poem that starts with 'All the world's a stage...', I don't remember the other lines. This is most definitely my first and only attempt at poetry. Now, I'm gonna get all artsy fartsy and ask that when you comment on this post, you have to write something nasty about this poem and the effort, limericks are more than welcome...call it poetic licence :P )

A time to celebrate!

Today I just had to write a post. So I asked myself what would I write if I were given no time to think out a post. I said to myself, there could be something witty to write ofcourse, apparenltly witty took a day off today. An amusing anecdote then? Well, writing about watching the twitching mustache of a client for 94 minutes and 43 seconds isn't really a barrel of laughter, you have to admit (then again if there was the right kind of music to go with it, it should be worth a giggle or two).

So what would I write about then? A sad moment? I just did write about a downer of a day, if I write more, then this blog would be labelled as a tear jerker or worse it might be even called 'sensitive' (eeks!). Today is a day to celebrate life and not to think of some silly sad moment!

Et Voila! (thats french...Oo la la, if I may say so myself) A lightbulb moment! Maybe I should write about travel. ZAPPP! Realisation! I ALWAYS write about travel. People must be tired and sick of airline stories, airport stories, Bangalore stories etc. But then again, there maybe a moment or two, yet to be told...

The reason why I want to write is just that I feel full of life now, bursting from every thought and every word thanks to a moment in my life today, maybe it deserves a word or two.

About 3 hours ago, as I was rushing to the Coimbatore airport (to catch a flight back to Chennai), we were driving from a little town called Tirupur. About 20 kilometers away, it happened, I saw the headlights of a truck coming at us just few feet away from my car as we turned a busy but blind corner at full tilt. It was staring at us with it's deadly glare as we hurtled towards it at about 80 kmph. It was a strange moment dragged for eternity.

No one can figure how no one got injured, heck there was not even a scratch on the car or the truck (I think). The vehicles sweved in the last moment to miss each other by millimeters. The car ploughed into the open ground by the side of the road. There was no damage except for three very shaken men, me, my taxi driver and the driver of the truck.

How the two vehicles missed each other is something none of us are very clear about but great balls of fire, they did!

Like I said, I'm celebrating life, I just had to write, even if it was about a moment or two.

The All New Look

"The food here is terrible, and the portions are too small"- Woody Allen.

This blog has reinvented it's look due to yet another mid-life crisis of it's author. Anyway, the metamorphosis has taken 4 hours, so when you recoil at the bright orange, remember the hard work that has gone into bringing you this new look. Most of the hard work was concentrated on changing the font colours from a blue or black to orange or black and I am happy to announce, this endeavour has been almost successful.

Sadly though, the quality of the writing would remain the same.

Your views on this change are solicited.

A bad day

Yesterday was a bad day. It's one of those days when you know things are gonna go downhill the minute you wake up. Even the gay bird (gay=happy, bird=bird) which usually sings a happy tune outside my window seemed to be mouthing the F word at me that AM. (Fark you too tweety!). I went to work with a sinking optimism that something might happen during the course of the day to change my bleak outlook. Lo behold (always wanted to use that in a sentence), things took a turn for the worse with every passing hour.

Afer four unsuccessful and frustrating meetings later, I and my two colleagues decided that the day was a complete wash out. In our line of work we have either spectacularly successful meetings or those that make you wonder what the heck you are doing with your life (shortly and not so affectionately called wthyadwyl). So after four wthyadwyls we were emotionally battered and bruised as we made our way back to office on a wing and more than a few cuss words. Things weren't great at office either, I had a dozen issues waiting for me in my inbox and surprise surprise, none of them could be resolved immediately.

A hurried and bad lunch which had started showing it's effect by late evening didn't do much to salvage the mood. My colleagues and I kept looking at each other, then finally decided to call it a day early. Both the guys made their way back home to their wives and kids, knowing fully well that in a few minutes their mind would be taken off the events of the day. They would be in their comfort zone. Some families are great stress busters (and some not so much). I had no one waiting for me back home, so I took a walk down Residency Road, feeling a little sorry for myself. I liked being alone but sometimes every person needs someone to go back home to, to feel needed and to connect. I hated such thoughts as I've always felt this was way too sappy, plus people who feel this way end up rushing into marriages that they deeply regretted later and that scared me more than anything else. What a thought! *Shudder*

A humongous bra fluttered from a shrub by the side of the road, even this failed to make me smile as it normally would have. Every tall tree I passed sheltered a homeless person or family looking for a hand out. In this noveau rich city of Bangalore, all the money that is made hasn't changed the lives of those who need it the most. There are more homeless people every year yet we gush about the 'development' and the 'advancement' that this city has seen. I couldn't help but shake my head, as I walked past, I can't blame others if I don't blame myself. A prickly social concience was all I needed on a day like this. Sigh.

As I neared the end of Residency Road, I saw a familiar neon sign. The Pub World. A low key, no nonsense pub I used to hang out, usually to catch a game, more than 5 years ago. I thought, heck, might as well grab a drink and some dinner. I walked in and as my eyes got adjusted to the dark interiors, I heard an exclamation of joy. From within the pub, arms outstretched was this bartender in knew from five years ago, Selvam. "Saarr, How are you saar?" he said. I smiled and replied. It was very nice of him to remember me after 5 years. He told me that he was one of the floor managers now as he showed me to a barstool in front of their big TV on the bar, my favourite spot in the pub (he even remembered that!). He gave specific instructions to the young bartender to ensure that he took special care of me. I was chuffed and grinning ear to ear. As I downed a beer and some tasty fish kebabs, Selvam made frequent trips to my spot to have a quick chat. He showed me pictures of his son, who was now going to the 4th Standard. I remembered that five years ago we were discussing which school would be the best for his child. He had huge ambitions for the kid.

After an hour of conversation, great food and some good old rock music, I bid goodbye to Selvam & Pub World, more at peace with myself. I needed to sleep to prepare for another long day.

Sometimes, in life we clutch at straws to get through the difficult days and these straws come by in many strange ways. We get by.

Another day another airport

If you think by now that I've written enough airport stories, you are probably right

20:00
Bangalore

I left my sister's house to catch a 10 PM flight to Chennai. My nephew volunteered to drop me at the airport in his bike. I agreed, thinking about all the times that I used to take him for rides in my bike when he was a little tyke. Now, here he was a twenty year old engineering college student with a bike and all. I looked at the mirror on the way out, the wrinkles around my eyes were beginning to show.

After a quick bike ride, which involved a lot of twists turns and racing through the pothole ridden roads of Bangalore, I managed to reach the airport without screaming for help. The reason I couldn't scream for help was that it would really have been uncool, especially in front of my nephew and I wasn't ready for that kind of a reality check as yet, though it was true that things surely have changed.

I walked into the airport and the first thing I noticed was that there were way too many people there than normal. I walked over to the Air Sahara counter. My intuition was right, my flight like most flights had been delayed by atleast 3 hours. I ask around with other airliners, all of them were running at 3-5 hour delays too. This was courtesy the dense fog in Delhi that AM which had had a cascading effect all day. Great!

I get a boarding pass, buy a Woody Allen novel (Without Feathers) and find an empty chair in the waiting lounge. After a bit of reading, I get bored and started looking around at my fellow passengers, in the same situation, stuck at the airport. After a while, I realised that each person or each event has a small story to tell. So this is a collection of them that I started noting down.

Shweta Come Here- Then Intrepid traveler.

The first fellow passenger I encountered was all of 2 feet tall and about 2 years old. It was easy to find out her name, which was either 'Shweta Don't Go There' or 'Shweta Come Here', which is what her Mother yelled her every so often. She never really answered to either of these names as she was caught up in a little world of her own. This little doll with an easy smile walked around, exploring the rows and rows of chairs filled with tired passengers. You could see that she was thrilled to bits.

Almost everyone brightened up when she walked down their row with her squeaky shoes. She never let anyone stop her from her quest, which was usually a walk to another row of chairs. She eventually decided that she would take a dekko at the book stall which had a huge full length display windows. She walked past the window, very slowly, leaning on the glass and staring at the books, lost in a world of her own. Some of the titles she browsed were, 'The Seven Habits of Effective People', The 86 degree solution', 'The!nk', 'Nuts!' and she spent quite a long time in front of 'The Historian' & 'The Da Vinci Code'.

It really was plain to see that the world had another thriller freak.


The Teenager & her Mom

Slightly ahead and facing me were this teenager and her mom. The teen was continuously on her cellphone messaging someone or the other. The mom would start a conversation and the teen would be messaging as she spoke. The Mom would try and peek at what the teen would pull away. This went on for awhile. One could see the worry lines on the Mom visible deepen. After awhile the teen gets up to use the washroom. The Mom slowly reached into the teen's bag and took out the teen's cellphone. Quickly the Mom goes through all the SMS's, frowns at a few, smiles at a few and then slips the phone back inside the bag before the teen came back.

By the time the teen is back the Mom is looking around casually with her arms folded with a look of someone who desperately wants the world to know that she was not upto anything sneaky. I think she just stopping short of whistling a nervous tune. This reminded me of a poster of Dennis the Menace, which my Mom gifted my sister a long time ago, there was a caption that read "You can fool some people sometime but you can't fool Mom".

Keeper of the broken chairs

To my right sat a smart middle aged gentleman reading the latest Outlook Magazine. There was a row of seats behind him were empty, a rarity in a crowded airport, so this attracted quite a number of passengers looking to take a load off their feet. Everytime someone would venture out to this row, this kind gentleman would point out to them that the chairs (linked together) were broken and it was dangerous to sit on them. He must have warned more than a few dozen people during the course of the night. My respect for him grew with every passing warning he gave to people, ensuring that no one sat on the broken row of chairs. He waved at a few airport officials to take care of the chairs but they were too busy with their jobs on this hectic night.

Now the kind man could have just as easily found another chair somewhere else to continue reading his magazine in peace but he chose to stay there. Says something about the man.

Real heroes seldom wear tights.

The Narcissist

A nervous guy sitting in front of me kept fiddling with his laptop. So I slowly leaned over to see what he was doing. I found him adjusting his picture which he had selected as the wallpaper on the laptop. After many adjustments, he was finally comfortable with his effort, which was a blow up of his face up to cover the entire screen. Very disturbing. More disturbing was the way he stared at his face for a real long time.

He then proceeded to put on some music on his laptop. Now the speaker in the laptop wasn't that effective, so he would put on a song, minimize the window to reveal the photograph of his big head, give it a look, then semi close the laptop, put it in the bag with the bag open and then lean on the bag. He did this song after song, some songs (like one from Ashique Banaya Apne) were played thrice.

This boy would need a shrink very soon.

A true Indian Wifey

A few rows ahead of the narcissist, sat a trendily dressed young couple (looked newly married). He looked like a pencil and she, well she was something else, gorgeous would be an understatement. He would read a book, she would peek in, finish the page before he did and wait for him to turn the page. She would talk animatedly, he would nod vaguely looking somewhere in space. He streches his arm, banging it on the arm of the chair, she rushes over to that side and massages his arm for half an hour (I kid you not). She talks nineteen to a dozen and he looks around. She puts her head on his shoulder and he shrugs it off not so gently. She goes back to talking and he goes back to staring in space.

And they tell me marriage is a fun thing. Ha!

Funny Heads

Ever see a man who has wrinkles all over his head like a bull dog?
Ever see a man wear a toupee that looks like a dead bandicoot (and probably smells like it too)?
Ever seen a man wear a pink hat (and a yellow shirt, ofcourse)?

I saw all three within 20 minutes of each other.

Attitude

As I was about to catch a snooze a pretty girl walked towards me and sits across the aisle from me. She wore a tight brown leather trousers and also a rather tight black t-shirt that read 'Keep Staring, I just might do a trick', right across her bosum. She had a look in her eye that would have frozen a Volcano.

Would go and tell her that her leather trouser was ripped on the side?

I wouldn't. (She would have slapped me if I had pointed to her thigh)


This isn't right!

James Frey's "Million Little Pieces" has started climbing up the popularity chart in India now. Now, after it has achieved infamy. Bookstores like 'Sankars' at airports have started putting these books in their 'Bestsellers' & 'Recommended Reading' shelves over the last few weeks. These books also have the 'Oprah Book Club' recommendation on them. This goes to show that there is nothing like bad publicity.

The Apple Pie

At midnight with all the airport shops closed, I walked out of the airport into the cold Bangalore night to find something to eat. Since I was wearing a t-shirt I was shivering in the cold wind as I made my way to a Coffee Day, outlet in the middle of the parking lot. As I looked hungrily at the counter, I spied a large apple pie. One of my main weaknesses. I must have given it very longing looks because the guy behind the counter asked me if I wanted a piece of the pie. He said he would heat it for me too. I think i almost purred!

After heating the pie, he turned back to me to ask me if I wanted a scoop of vanilla ice cream on that, words were stuck to my throat, I merely nodded.

There I was shivering in the cold night air, gobbling a piece of the pie with a scoop of ice cream, smiling happily into the dark night.

I think perfection just found itself another metaphor.

(After 5 1/2 hours in the airport, I boarded the flight at 2 am for the routine 30 minute journey back to Chennai)

The whores of Queens Road

Once upon a time, long long ago, so long ago that no one knew how long.... oh well, ok ok, one fine day last week, I went through my usual routine (when I'm in Bangalore) and made my way the the main road from my sister's place in the morning, fresh after breakfast, ok...not so fresh coz my sister is one gawd awful cook, bless her kind heart. I deviate from the topic at hand, so, I made it to my usual spot among the whores of Queens Road.

Shocked?

In a corner of Queens Road, we wait in a line, peddling our wares, vying for attention, hoping we'd attract someone fast. If your mind boggles and starts wondering about my occupation, it is true I'm a banker. Then what the heck am I doing there in Queens Road? you ask.
I'm just trying to get an Autorickshaw to office.

So there I stand among a long line of office goers, waving like mad at each passing auto. While slowly cruising the road, each auto driver looks us up and down then finally makes a selection and stops. He asks, we tell, he thinks and nods or shakes his head. Soon he is on his way.

Rejection used to worry me a lot but a few days on the strip and I became a pro. Now I just shrug it off and start waving at the next passing auto. Some of us are desperate souls who yell their destination to all and sundry, in a hurry to go. So passe! Not my style, I'd rather wait for as long as it took.

In the line up I need patience, after all, all I had to offer was a trip to Residency Road, a journey that would get the driver some 20-30 rupees, not much at all when others can offer a high paying trips to the Hosur Roads or the Jakkasandras or the Bommasandras of the world .

I've realised that in the line up, pretty girls have a definite edge, long distance travellers are most preferred but bankers who travel only a short distance are in the lowest in the pecking order.

Five Rupee Faux Paus

Bangalore. After a long day's work, I started to my sister's home from office. I walked out to the road, enjoying the cool breeze, then spotting an Autorickshaw I made signs it to come hither. Hithered it did.

A bearded gent who was the my driver for the evening welcomed me aboard the auto. "Kahan jaana hai sir?'(Where do you want to go sir). he asked in Hindi. Now, Hindi is never a language I am comfortable in, Bangalore being a multi-lingual town, one does get to meet people who speak, Kannada, Hindi & Tamil all the time, so one gets used to it. Although my usage of Hindi though has suffered much ridicule in the past (much of it unwarranted I must say).

Anyway, my mind processed the auto driver's question carefully and then replied "Queens Road jaana hai" (I have to go to Queens Road).

"Meter kaam nahin kar raha hai, aap pachiis rupiya de do" (Meter isn't working, the fare would be rupees fifty) came the response from the bearded driver with a toothy smile. Again, my brain again started processing this response more slowly since this time numbers where involved now and for a banker I was not good at processing numbers fast in any language.

"Nahin nahin, mein, thirty ke zyada nahin doonga" (No no, I won't give more than thirty rupees), I replied with a firm voice. "Aap ko thirty dena hai? Theek hai, thirty de do" (You will give thirty? ok) said he.

I smiled. I looked around at no one in particular as if to say 'thats how you dealt with these guys'. A firm had is all it takes, show them who's the boss and they would follow you like lambs. I settled back on the seat like a man in supreme command of his surroundings.

In a while, my sister's residence appeared, I got off, triumphantly counted three ten rupee notes and gave it to the driver whose grin got wider. A sunny disposition these auto drivers have, I thought.

I walked in, greeting my sister and her family and eventually settled down in the living room and flipped through a magazine.

Something was wrong in my mind, the grinning auto driver's face kept flashing in my head. Finally, just to clear the air, I called my neice who learnt Hindi as a second language and asked what you said in Hindi for Fifty.

She said "You don't know? Fifty is Pachaas"

"Um. Then what is Pachiis?" I asked hesitantly. Dreading the reply.

Pat came the answer from the little one "Twenty Five".

Crap.

Clothes Encounter

"You guys are Idiots!", said S, who was in a reflective mood. I nodded my agreement. You see I am used to agreeing with people, I'm a banker. "There are so many tailors here in India yet you guys blindly go and buy readymade clothes paying fancy money". I nodded again, it is usually better to let him vent it out. "In the US tailoring is way to expensive, you can't even alter clothes that you buy off the shelf but here in India the custom made clothes is cheaper than readymade stuff, plus just look at you, look at your clothes, your shirt is way too crumpled, your sleeve length is too long and your trousers, well, I won't go there.. You guys are so influenced by their culture", said he shaking his head.

BOO

"Ok, I'll bite, give me the name of your tailor" I asked, just to get the dude off his soap box.

Thats how I found myself at the doors of Hong Kong Custom Tailors (Since 1963). I half expected the Fanucci brothers (the twittering twosome from the movie Oscar), whom I would order with the snap of my fingers like Sly Stallone did as they fitted his suit. As is the general case with me the tailor I encountered looked exactly like a different Italian movie character, Don Vito Corleone of the Godfather. As he moved slowly across the room to greet me, my lips almost uttered 'Bueno Sera', before I checked myself and said 'Hello'.

WOOO

A nod and what was a minor twitch of the mouth was all I got as a greeting.

Hi Mukta, this is message is for your curious mind :-)

The efficient shop assistants, who incidentally looked like mob hitmen, without the suits and brandishing measuring tapes, started showing me the fabric, I sifted through them nervously as the Don watched. Finally, having been lead to some good material, I was ready to be measured.

The Don approached.

That very moment I was reminded of that episode of Friends, where Chandler goes to Joey's tailor and gets fondled ('cupping' was the term used) by the him while being measured.0

What if the Don cupped? I wondered. Would I get out of this place alive if I protested?

The Don picked up a tape and started measuring. No cupping, thank god! I exhaled. The Don was a thorough professional, efficient and fast.

As he was measuring my waist, I cleared my throat nervously. The Don looked up, I had permission to speak. "Wwould you be able to alter the waist later?" I asked. "Reduced?", he cocked his head to one side, that was my cue to explain. "Yes, my waist size keeps altering since I go to the gym..." I muttered.

The Don sighed. One of those optimistic wierdos, his mind seemed to tell him. "Sure sure" is all he said. I was ecstatic, I didn't know if I had to kiss his ring as a sign of thanks.

The deed was done.

A week later, I picked up a perfectly tailored sets of trousers and shirts. I professed my thanks to the Don, he just nodded.

As I wear this nice set of clothes, I now wonder if I would be ever called to be of service to the Don as a return for what he had done for me.

One flu over the AAATISSSHOOOOOs fest

Last week was an important week in my career. I've been asked to head a new team which would be spread across South India. This is what every executive looks forward to, to have his/her own brood to watch over. The first thing I realised was that there was nothing on earth that could really prepare you for this moment, pretty much like fatherhood. You've read about it, you've seen others do it, you think, hmmm I can do a better job of it than that feller but when you come face to face with it, you just hope you don't look like the blathering idiot you feel like.

It all started with an announcement early this week. I was to set up a smart team of executives to run a specific business in South India. One always wants to make an entrance into such a scenario like Superman but reality can be a cruel thing coz it points out to 'Superman' that his underwear is showing. I've spent the whole of first week, checking if my metaphorical underwear was indeed showing. You want to appear as a fresh face yet appear to know all the ropes. You should appear to take stunning and decisive decisions yet appear like the weight of the world was in your shoulders in water cooler 'been there done that' chats.

BOOO

Currently there is only one person in this team and once he heard the news he promptly came around to offer his congrats. I looked at him with fondness, my first reportee! I would enjoy watching this one grow up. (The first little one is always special isn't it? Btw 'reportee' is my own term, you won't find it in a dictionary, this is not that kinda blog anyways) My new reportee promptly dropped a dozen issues in my lap, I sighed like a proud father would and shook my head, a boss' work is never done.

I quickly realised that being a boss is all about bladder control. You see, most issues that come in for a decision are either life threatening or inane, the problem is in understand which is which. Seemingly inane issues started to blow up during the course of an hour so by the end of the first day I had decided that if I didn't pee in my pants I would be happy. Things have gotten better over the course of the week but not by much. Tip to new bosses: Keep away from water during your first day!

Interviews. I love interviews, you see I've been a salesman for a long time. I've come to realise though that being an interviewer rather than an interviewee is a whole different thing. After 10 years of meeting interviewers and giving them a grand story (oh come on, does anyone speak the truth in interviews?), I now have no clue as to whether the interviewee is being genuine or handing me a line. So out of a dozen people I've interviewed over the week, I've been able to short list only one. Call it paranoia but I just can't seem to meet the right kind of candidate. You see one needed to get a person who not only fitted the role but also should be able to transition to the next level eventually. Whoever I hire, I not only need to ensure that I get maximum productivity from them at the same time ensuring that they have a good time working here and that their career goals are met. Some would argue that working and having a good time are mutually exclusive, I can see sense in that argument, heck I was the chief proponent of that argument! It all changes I guess with being the head of a team. Now I've decided to reach office a good half an hour before it starts, cut short my lunch 'hour' and also put an end to my near famous time-outs (As a de-stresser at times I just drop everything I'm doing and walk out of office for longish periods of time. I usually end up with a new book in a coffee shop). I know I have to set the right example and have the right energy levels. I don't want to be that whiney loser who sets rules for everyone but for himself. Heck there would be no rules if I can have it my way, just specific examples if you catch my drift.

hi

Anyway, there were some pleasant moments this week too. On Thursday, I caught up with fellow blogger and pal Lubu of the Writer's Cyberslate fame and her interesting friend Abi, at the Koshy's restaurant in Bangalore. I hardly remember the conversation though, since earlier that day I had woken up at 3 am to catch a flight from Chennai to Bangalore, by the evening I was smashed. All I remember was I had a steak & onions and that I kept blabbering about what I had done at work. Thanks Lubu for being a patient listener.

hows

After this long week which included two days of travel. I landed in the Chennai airport with a tired body and mind. To add to the pile, I had caught the flu somewhere in Bangalore on Friday. Dad had come over to pick me up from the airport. As he drove he told me that there was a bunch of relatives had landed up at home for the weekend, so I would have to sleep in the couch. Ferpect!

you

It's Sunday evening and I'm dreading the coming week as I sit here sneezing into tissue papers and writing this post. I remember Sunday nights when I used to sit at home worrying about my school homework, there were Sunday nights when I had to worry about my boss' review too. I didn't quite figure that I'd be sitting here worrying about being a good boss, but I am.

All for Rs. 220

Sonia Faleiro, a popular Indian blogger writes here about an incident with a Taxi Driver. The guy apparently over charged her (ie charged her Rs. 380 when the usual fare is Rs. 160). Ms. Faleiro apprehended the driver in her building complex and along with another individual (who was 'brawnier than her') she forcibly searched him and his taxi, extracting sets of papers that apparently proved that he had three different rate sheets (a ratesheet is the physical proof of the taxi fare per distance). During her interrogation she figures that the driver is stoned and also proceeds to take a picture of him in her digital camera (which she has trumphantly put up in her blog) . She then apprently tried calling the police but couldn't reach them, so she detained the taxi driver for an hour ( to 'let him stew') inside her complex and then let him go.

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Was this a triumphant heroine discharging justice where justice was due? Or is this her version of vigilante law?

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Would she do the same to any other corrupt person she meets? A minister? A government official? A cop perhaps? Or wait, does the fact that the taxi driver was a harmless junkie have anything to do with this?

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In one post in Ms. Faleiro's blog (where she writes about her Hurricane experience in Mumbai), she is cooped in the lobby of a five star hotel (I forget the name and I'm too lazy to hunt for that post). She apparently asked them for a room and was told that only rooms with a tariff of Rs. 10,000/- was available (a popular gimmick with 5 star hotels during excessive demand is to book all the expensive rooms before they let out the cheaper rooms). Why didn't she apply the same treatment given to the taxi driver & shake that reception clerk and check if this information was real. Whatever happened to her sense of fair play then?

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Does she think what she did was legal? Isn't detaining a man and injuring him (she says a finger was cut, I hope that was a small cut, in her own words ' a thumb was cut, but not off') as illegal as over-charging in a taxi?

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What of the taxi driver's legal rights? What would have happened if in the scuffle to search his taxi, he was seriously injured? Whatever happened to taking the taxi number down and then reporting the matter to the police in a formal manner?

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If Ms. Faleiro took a picture of the guy, then wasn't this a blog post happening in Ms. Faleiro's mind as she dealt with him? (More dramatic the better right?)

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Is this a question of a blogger abusing someone and orchestrating news? I let you decide for yourself. Now don't get me wrong, I admire Ms. Faleiro's writing and I have nothing against her but my opinion is that it is one thing is to handle a situation wrongly but to gloat over it is a whole different kettle of fish. Whatever it was, I'm quite sure if this was any other country with a stronger legal system, Ms. Faleiro would have been arrested for assault & illegal detention. But here in India, who gives a shit about the rights of a junkie taxi driver, right?

UPDATE: I wrote to Ms. Faleiro asking her about this. Till date I have not had a response from her. Further, there was an 'anonymous' comment in her post that said that Ms. Faleiro's action was correct since detaining a guy who was high for an hour would have saved 'pregnant women and school children' in the roads. I replied that there was nothing in the post that wrote about the way that guy drove his car (he would have to have driven her for more than 45 minutes for her to pay Rs. 180), all Ms. Faleiro said was that since he had a glazed look he probably was stoned(when she was interrogating him), thats it. I don't think Ms. Faleiro's actions were due to the assumption that he was stoned . All I can see is that Ms. Faleiro saw the police deal with a similar incident of meter rigging one time before (she wrote about it in a previous post) and thought, hey, I can do this! Thats what is wrong Ms. Faleiro.

Anyway my comment was not allowed on the post by Ms. Faleiro since in her blog she has to review comments before they appear on the post, subsequent comments from others have been included.

Fancily enough, I wrote about this to a fellow blogger from Mumbai, who knew Sonia Faleiro and nominated her for the IndiBlog, he hasn't replied in a week either. Small world, small people.

Two words

Shit happens...
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Happy Monday! This week ain't any better from the last one and the next one doesn't look promising either :-)

2006 Bloggies

The 2006 Bloggies are accepting nominations for various categories. So go ahead and nominate your favourite blogs!

My Nominations are

For the best asian weblog

1) Amit Varma: India Uncut
2) Annie Zaidi: Known Turf
3) Dilip D'Souza: Death Ends Fun

Most Humourous weblog:

1) -c: Up the creek without a platypus
2) Pope Joe: Ask the Pope
3) Scott Adams: The Dilbert Blog

Best writing of a Weblog

1) Dilip D'Souza: Death Ends Fun
2) Annie Zaidi: Known Turf
3) Nilanjana Roy: Akhond of Swat

Best New Weblog:

1) Anouradha Bakshi: Project Why
2) Mukta Raut: Chiffonesque
3) Pope Joe: Ask the Pope

Weblog of the Year
1) Waiter Rant
2) Annie Zaidi: Known Turf
3) Dilip D'Souza: Death Ends Fun
4) Amit Varma: India Uncut

(Linked via India Uncut)

New Blog

Do check out my new blog about the more serious things in life. After a lot of research, the blog has been given a new and innovative title, Serious Stuff.

A Letter

What Would You Say To God If You Could Write God An Email? Asked a spam email that I got today. I thought why not start the year with a letter to God. So here it is.

Dear God,

How are You doing? I wonder why no one asks You that question. I know how frustrating it was to fix a computer last week so I can't begin imagine the stress levels involved in running the Universe.

Now, at the beginning of any communication with You I've always been instructed to thank You for everything You've done for me. (Divine brownie points I reckon)

So, Thank You.

If ever I dare to list out all the things that I am thankful for, I would always end up missing something. Infact it's cool when I realise that as I write this there are things I do not know of that are in motion that I would be thankful for later.

My Mother once told me a long time ago that You were different for different people, I couldn't understand how her God was different from mine. I thought she had to be wrong after all I'm a protestant Christian as she is. Only when I got older I realised that I have questioned the very same religious practices that she finds comforting. I have found the four walls of the church to be full of politics & petty mindedness when she finds only peace and solitude. She would accept things blindly & I would argue everything I found irrational. In short, we viewed You differently. I think there is no common religion between two people, when one looks at religion as a path that leads to You. Like I am different things for different people (a son, a brother, a friend, a nephew, a colleague etc) You mean different things to different people.

Just by being different for each and everyone You make us all special. I have to admit though I'm more than a little curious as to how You deal with Michael Jackson.

I've always curious about this concept of 'sin & sinning', I don't know if it was really Your wish or if it was someone's idea to ensure order in society. Because I've often seen that when all else fails the fear of God keeps people from doing something they shouldn't be. But don't You think this concept has been abused? Well, we humans have always mucked up things and then expect You to come clean things up. Heck of a job I admit.

You know another thing I'm curious about is the concept of Heaven and Hell. But then again I'm sure I'd find out if I stick to it long enough. Knowledge after all comes with experience.

In a universe that is millions of years old, my existence of 31 years is very inconsequential, all I ask is for some help once awhile in realising that.

I shall sign off now. Thanks for being there.

Yours truly,

Rabin Stephen (but You knew that)

p.s. do cockroaches pray?

Got tagged (finally!)

Got tagged by Mukta on the five things & people that I was wrong about in life. I wanted to aim for five but I didn't get beyond one. It really wasn't due to vanity but because the one thing that I have been wrong about has had a profound impact in my life the rest pale in comparison so they don't find a place here.

Two years ago my younger sister was presented two options in her career, one was to work for a large foriegn Bank and the other was a job as a lecturer in a local college. I told her to go with the Bank and she chose the college, which disappointed me since I felt that she was not doing justice to her potential. You see both my parents were in the teaching line, I have seen their frustration at all the red tape and politics that they faced every day. On the other hand, I felt that a bank meant more freedom plus a big salary, big bonuses and big promotions. Honestly I thought that my sister wasn't taking the chances in life that she should be.

Now, for a long time my own goal in life was to head a company. I worked hard at this all through my 20s and now that I am in my early 30s, I have a realistic scope of reaching my goal.

But I met Anouradha Bakshi of ProjectWhy , (you can read about that here)& then I visited them earlier this year, since that time my corporate goals have steadily started to fade out, work started looking colourless (you can read about a disillsioned corporate month-end here). Infact after for a week of visiting PWhy, I just was so disillusioned about my job that I just couldn't do anything. I kept thinking about how important a job it was to teach children, to shape minds and to create a opportunities in life for people who didn't get that by birth. The satisfaction that I saw in this was far more than anything else. Compared to that, banking appears shallow and it seems to be a world of small men living in a small world and thinking that everything revolves around them.

Now I see my Sister's choice in a different light, in the two years she has made an impact in her workplace in her own quiet way. Though she is five years younger to me she has proved to be decades wiser.

I would always want to be the best performer in any job that I undertake but there is also a new deep need for doing something more meaningful in my life. Maybe I'd even follow in my kid sister's footsteps someday.

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(After this, If I had listed out stuff like Boxer Shorts & Vodka Martini, as things that I have been wrong about, the post really wouldn't have made sense.

0

Btw now, I tag you to write about the things that you were wrong about in life ).

The waves came one year ago today and changed everyone's lives forever....

Another airport story..

Another evening, another airport and another delayed flight. It's 11 pm and all I can think of is crawling into bed. Seated in the lobby either side of me were two gentlemen, both of whom were were stood out from the usual crowd in their own way. The guy on my right was wearing a fresh business suit, a power tie & more than a dash of expensive perfume. He carried a cool cellphone, a mont blanc and had way too much of energy for that time of the night, obviously had to be a corporate bigwig. The other was the absolute contrast, wearing a simple dhoti, shirt, a titan watch & an old leather chappal. Equally obvious that this was a villager visiting the big city.

The corporate type, received one phone call after the other, he would scream or schmooze depending on was calling. All the while, the village type would look around the airport with what could be described as wonderment in his face.

Finally, boarding was announced. We queued up, the corporate type with his boarding pass carelessly fluttering from his suit pocket made some last minute calls and angled into the line right ahead of me. The village type collected his small fake leather bag and clutching his boarding pass like his life depended on it, shuffled right behind me in the queue.

We got on the shuttle, the corporate type checked the time in his expensive watch & continued screaming on the telephone & the village type sat in a quiet dark corner clutching his worn out bag. We got off the shuttle & started boarding the flight, the corporate type seemed to be stuck with me & the village type had gone ahead.

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The Corporate type walked ahead of me inside the flight and as we walked through the business class (me closing my eyes and following his cologne) I could sense him pause for a second, I saw him look at the Village type who was sitting there in the plush leather seat & reading a paper. I couldn't see the corporate type's face but I knew that his mouth must have been agape. I couldn't help but break into a smile & shake my head as we, Corporate & I, shuffled past & found our way to our cheap seats at the economy class.

COMMENTS POLICY!!

Ok. Here's the deal, Life & other such events like quite a number of important blogs, takes a tough stand on comments. Be advised that after you type your comment, the site would verify your great grandmother's maiden name then ask you to chant 'Moses supposes his poses are roses but Moses supposes erroneously' 20 times in 15 seconds and you may have to spell "Supercalifragelisticexpialidocious" with your eyes close and standing on one leg (no cheating, no peeking).

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO

This blog also would have 'Spams are Welcome' policy going forward. Some of the best reviews for this blog have come from spams like job opportunitya, who has called my posts, Exhilarating, Excellent, Wonderful, Fantastic etc.

HOOOOOOO

In a totally unconnected tangent, for those involved in the libertarians, arguments/discussions, I would like to say that we seem to have enough libertarians but whats the use since we don't have enough libraries for them to work in!! (Again the problem with India, too many people doing too little work!)

And wierder things have happened..

Another storm is expected to cross the storm ravaged east coast of India, Iraq just had it's general elections, George W has managed to swing back in opinion polls (can you believe it????), Celine Dion or Brittany Spears haven't come out with another music video this year (Hallelujah!). With such wierd yet interesting events happening around the world, the fact that my blog has crossed 50 posts isn't actually a big deal.

Unlike most of my ventures, this one has stood the test of time or it has till date and I'm not sure how or why.

I'd like to thank a few people. I would like to thank my family for having nothing to do with this blog. I'd like to thank my lil dog Belle who has tried very hard to save mankind from my posts by doing her best to distract me. I would like to thank a few colleagues who tap their forehead whenever they see me update this blog, for if they had found it cool, I probably wouldn't do it. I'd like to thank my pal U, who probably would count the number of posts just to keep me in the straight. In the end, I thank dear Claudia (Schiffer) for being born.

Dilip D'Souza's post titled Back to the future

Let me tell you something, I'm a big fan of Dilip D'Souza's blog. I've never seen a blog that courts more arguments or discussions nor have I seen a writer take more personal attacks and still come out swinging. Not only are his posts thought provoking but they also make you want to do participate, even if you don't agree with him. Oh before you read further, for all those who wandered here to this blog by mistake ( thats is about 98.45% of my readership currently, after months of blog inactivity ) and don't prefer stuff on economics, there are a 3 new posts (Fear , One night in an airport & A trip to Singapore) that have been put up right below this one.

In his newspaper column (& subsequent Blog post), titled Back to the future, Dilip laments that the telecom companies and indeed most private service providers have been found lacking in the quality of service that they provide. Agreed. My view is that Privatisation is one thing and the quality of private companies is a whole different kettle of fish. Confused? Let me explain using the same example that Dilip used. His parents having been tired of the Government owned MTNL telephone service, decided to use the services of a private service provider. After the intial promises by the new service provider they found that the new guy himself was lacking in service & quality.

Now, to the point as to why I seek to differentiate the benefits of Privatisation/Liberalisation & service quality of private companies.

a) The D'Souza family in the 1980s would have got their landline thanks to the OYT (Own Your Telephone) scheme for Rs. 8000 with a delay of 'just', 16 months (yes that was the waiting time for an OYT telephone then). Now a telephone line is available for a fraction of that cost within a week (on the outside). This is the effect of privatisation/liberalisation. (Also remember that Rs. 8000 in the 1980s would be worth more than double that now)

b) In the early 1990s, the D'Souza family would have had to shell out Rs. 11000 per annum for getting a 8 kbps internet line. Now thanks to privatisation/liberalisation, they can get a 512 kbps line for Rs. 6000 per annum.

So it is clear that privatisation/liberalisatoin has brought in welcome changes already. Now for the most important benefit that privatisation/liberalisation has bought in

c) In the early 1990s, if the D'Souza family were dissatisfied with the telecom service provider, too bad, nothing could have been done about that. But now in 2005, they can kick out a service provider and bring in a new one. Simple.

Today if an MTNL or an BSNL or an VSNL or an SBI is shaping up, it is because of the competition that they are facing. If not, trust me nothing much would have changed. Organisations like Indian Airlines & Doordarshan have reacted to change very late and hence have seen a big depletion of their market share. Their services have been found lacking and their survival has mainly been due to monopolistic practices, which is their last bastion of resistance.

In a free market it is quality that sustains eventually. Currently the telecom industry is evolving, now there are more prospective customers than actual customers. So telecom companies target new customers disregarding existing customers (and hence not bothering about service quality). The market for a telecom company now can even be called infinite, I don't think that there is any service provider who can even give a ball park figure of the total consumers in a city, they don't even need to, that is the sheer size of the market. This is true for most retail businesses in India today. You would find that just as soon as a retailer takes your money, his interest in you wanes rapidly. Once the trend changes then there will be a time when existence of companies is heavily dependant on service parameters and cost reductions. This trend would change with the coverage of the market (the shrinking of the number of potential customers & by the entry of newer players). You can look at most of the western world to understand this.

Actually the western model of free market sometimes doesn't look free anymore. A free market in my opinion is a market where the entry barriers for any product or any company is low enough to allow for new entrants every year. This would mean that new, innovative & quality products reach the consumers every year. With the growing branding & advertising costs in the western world, there has been an automatic imposition of entry barriers for new companies.

Simply put, you have to be really big to play with the big boys.

Back to the issue on hand, so till the market trend reverses and the market becomes finite for service providers, does one have to put up & shut up? The answer is a resounding No. Opting for newer service providers & newer products give life to these companies & products, giving them the opportunity to be quality players in the industry. It also weeds out bad companies and bad products.

What you see is an economy in transition. Sit back, grab buckle up, grab your remote & enjoy the ride.

One night in an airport...

Hyderabad Airport

21:05, I swagger over to the Deccan Airways counter to check-in. I get a blank stare from the guy behind the counter. Finally words tumble out of his mouth "But, the flight has left...". I looked at him sternly, there must be some mistake "Are you sure the Chennai flight has left?", he nodded sheepishly. I checked my ticket, damn! I had gotten the timings wrong, the ETD was 21:00. Since the flight is always two hours late, my mind had somehow assumed that the departure time was around 22:30. Booze was wrecking my memory. I knew why counter guy was sheepish though, it was one of those rare days when that bloody flight had actually taken off on time. Murphy's law, right? I was the living example that Murphy's laws work. Shift happens.

21:15, I walked out of the lobby and check with other airliners, Kingfisher had a plane the next day evening. Not Good. Air Sahara, whoa! Cute smile. But sadly, no flight till noon next day. Passing the Jet Airways & Indian Airlines counter (these would be the last resorts), I thought I'd check one of these low cost airliners. I reached the SpiceJet counter. Bingo! There was a flight at 23:45 PM. The tickets were cheap too. I collected my tickets after some chit chat at the counter and headed towards an ice cream stall. The night was nice and chilly, just the right time for an ice cream.

21:41, I walk into the lobby and to the check-in counter. Seated there was this portly gentleman with a big smile. I give him my ticket. He smiles and looks at it and then tells me that check in starts at 21:45. I looked at the clock, it was a few minutes to go. I shake my head, walk away and make some calls.

21:55, I walk back to the check in counter. There is a small queue. I settle behind this rather sweet looking old lady. I started sensing that she was very uncomfortable and was looking around furtively, had to be a first timer, I've seen that haunted look before . Now the portly gentleman from before was walking around near us, being uncle like, chatting up to people, putting the hand baggage tag on everyone's back. He was also saying in a loud voice that we had to make sure that there was no knives, sharp objects, scissors & nail clippers in our bags. Nail Clippers??????? How in heavens was that a threat? I had crazy visions of a wanna be terrorist threatening the air hostess with a manicure! Ve can be very cruel & give ze pedicure too! (Ok, I've seen too many trashy old movies!)

22:04, I was laughing at the mental picture of a terrorist giving a manicure when Uncle came around to me and tagged my laptop & bag. After he moved on, suddenly the lady in front of me, started rifling inside her bag. After a bit of digging, she came up with a pair of gold nail clippers. She looked around more desperately. The clipper looked like it was made of gold and looked pretty old, she must have had it for a very long time. She had it in her hand, shielding it from people around and I could see that she was kicking a few ideas around in her mind about handling the situation.

Finally, with a firm resolve, she stuck the nail clipper deep inside her bag. A rebel was born.

She zipped up her bag and looked around hoping no one had seen her when she caught my eye.

I smiled conspiratorially, she blushed and turned around.

22:12, I checked in & headed towards the bookshop to browse.

A trip to Singapore

It's been a long time since I wrote and I'm sure half my readers, which is about 2.45 to 3.12 people, have forgotten that this blog exists (I arrive at my readership numbers the same way I do for quoting any official figure, by picking up arbitrary numbers from the air and adding decimals to it them to make them sound genuine, if this method sounds familiar, there is a 56.45% chance that you've read this in a Dilbert strip, so is this plagarism? The answer is No, coz, I thought of this concept on my own but have later realised that I may have read this in that cartoon strip too. You see 98.71% of all original ideas have been used already!).

The lack of posts has primarily been because of my work. I travel a lot and life has been hectic. It's time though that I wrote something before I loose the other half of my readers. I ain't gonna be artsy fartsy and say I write for myself! Heck I write so that I'd be read.

I just got back from a 2 1/2 day offsite in Singapore. For the uninitiated, an Offsite is a trip sponsored by the company, to the location of the boss's choice, where apart from shopping, site seeing, nightclubbing, drinking etc, you also spend a few hours in front of your boss, discussing meaningless future revenue projections, all the while trying to hide the dismal current year's peformance.

The onward journey late thursday night was a minor fiasco. My flight was at 00:20 hours on Friday morning, and we had to check in 3 hours before, which was 21:50 hrs. Thanks to a delay in our visa processing at Delhi. The Visas landed at 22:00 hrs in a Delhi flight and with some swift talking, I had it in my hand at 22:10 & a colleague whose passports & tickets I had landed up from another city only at 22:40. Thanks to these delays we had to rush through most things and barely managed to board the plane. Around 02:54 (random again, just incase you thought otherwise), we woke up to pandemonium, the flight was in what I felt was a free fall, I opened my eyes to see my two colleagues hit the top of the plane and bounce back down. Later I was told that the plane had entered a vacuum. Those few seconds, I think all of us had come to a quick realisation that we would be dead in a few seconds, it was a totally irrational fear but all I can remember from that time was how calm I was and the seatbelt was a big help (Wear them all the kids! It saved me from bouncing off the walls of the plane!). Whatever it was, I was the calmest of the three in that row.

Fear is a funny thing, there I was, thinking I'd be dead in a few seconds but was calm about it and just the entire week before, I had been walking scared stiff in anticipation of a presentation I was going give in Singapore to my new bosses. It's a fair assessment to say that I was more afraid of public speaking than of dying. Coming from a family where three of it's members earn a living by teaching and also considering the fact that I'm into sales, it's strange. I've always been good at meetings where I can sit down for a discussion so, give me a guy or gal across a table and I can nail the meeting but give me a bunch of people in chairs and I'm a log of wood.

A friend suggested that I should imagine that everyone sitting in front of me were wearing skimpy lavender coloured lingerie, I thought this might work. The only hitch was that I kept imagining that I was wearing skimpy lavender coloured lingerie, instead of my audience. Not a nice thought, I can tell you. I could feel a draft of cold wind creep through. I barely managed to maintain sanity and not throw up or piss in my pants or say something like "I think ya'll would look good in a lavender lingerie". Considering all this, my presentation had the best reviews. Go figure.

There were a lot of nice things to see in Singapore, which thanks to a crooked tour operator & a bad plan, we couldn't see any. I did what I do in most cities, I walked a few kilometers down their roads, observing people, watching them lead their lives. You can tell a lot about a city by that. What I realised immediately was that this was a city for couples. They were there everywhere, holding hands, kissing, walking, talking, smoking etc etc. I almost felt an intruder in their private space. There were hardly any single folk anywhere. I've travelled alone and had fun in a lot of new cities, this one was different. I didn't like being a stranger in a crowd here. There were some moments when I wish I had someone with me. Those moments disappeared soon after they came and I was thirsty for beer again.

(Talking about beer, I had one called the Dutch Royal Stout, which was thick and red and tasted like turpentine and toilet cleaner mixed at the ratio of 73:27 and left in a tin drum for 3 days. Trust me, avoid that one like the plague or better still, use em for your Christmas gifts. On the other hand a Corona with a slice of lime is awesome!)

People here in Singapore do two things a LOT, they eat and they shop. If you've visited Singapore, you would agree with me. I don't think any restaurant, was empty anytime of the day or night. People just kept eating and the worse part is that none of that eating showed on them! I mean, how can that be?

And as far as shopping goes, any wrong turn of the street, magically got you inside a shopping mall. Any subway actually ended up being a shopping mall too. Malls have a sublimal way of entering your path, yes, the mall finds you, rather than you finding it. Before you are out of the trance, you have a shopping bag full of stuff and you are on your way. Like what a local Singaporean of chinese origin would say...Shopping? Can, can!

Every one of these malls was FULL through the day. I guess Christmas, the festival that celebrates the rising revenues of retail stores, was just around the corner and everyone around was doing their bit. But even then, shopping malls running full at 4 am??? Crazy! One thing I was advised was to ask for a discount wherever I go. I'm used to bargaining in a small shop but to do that in a mall? Well, I took my tentative steps when I bought a T shirt at a New Balance store. As the clerk was getting the bill ready, I cleared my throat, he looked up. I smiled, and said "Umm...is there a disc.", before I could finish, he smiled wide and said "Ofcourse Sir, I'm give you a 15% discount" and bowed too. Wow! I mean how cool was that? Soon after, I even bargained down an Sony Handicam from $899 to $750. I was an expert in no time. (After all I'm a part of the scum sucking bottom feeding profession of banking aren't I?)

From the nice lady at the American Express counter who changed my money and sold me a local simcard (She very patiently tried to explain how it worked, eventually gave up and wrote the directions down for me) to the taxi driver who talked to himself as he drove, the experience with people was awesome. That says something about the city. It was great that people bow when they take money from you or give money to you coz I;ve seen way too much of disrespect for money here in India. In Singapore, every transaction happened with a smile or aleast a small nod of appreciation. I think I would have an attack of I get that kind of treatment from an autodriver here in Chennai, leave alone anyone else.

Another thing that I appreciated was that anytime I asked a person who looked Indian, if they were Indian, the answer was a standard, No, I'm Singaporean. The pride that these words carried was great. Considering that Tamils are 12.53% of the population, this showed their effort in maintaining homogenity. We Indians are a homogeneous group only when it comes to Cricket (I think Greg Chappell has changed that too), I guess we have to learn from our folks out there .

All in all, it was a fantastic place to visit, but too clean for the likes of me, I like my city nice and dirty. What is life without a walk past an overflowing garbage dump? Imagine eating a vada pao in the sanitised environs of Singapore instead of a dirty pushcart near a ditch in Mumbai ? Imagine driving to work without worrying about the traffic jam or the pollution or the potholes or about not hitting the guy jaywalking in the road? Or Imagine having to wait in line to get a taxi? No way!

It's been a while since I wrote, this isn't exactly the best I've written but I've liked writing this. Unlike some earlier posts were forced. I hope to write more regularly again. Thanks for visiting & reading :-)

Confessions of a wanna be technology junkie

I've had it all. Atleast as far as mobile phones go (rest of my life is a whole different ball game). Over the last five years I have bought just about every type of cellphone possible. You name it, I've got it, Small ones, big ones, wide ones, coloured ones, wiith camera, with WAP, with Bluetooth, with Infrared, with interactive games, with detachable shells of 7 different colours, with an inflatable doll named Amy. Umm. Well, most of those things listed anyways.

All this time that I've been trying to be on the forefront of technological change (or the backside of a technological change, your choice, it's all the same), this has been rather tough on me. My random decision making in phones have reached a stage where my brain just freezes with the choices that it is presented with. Heck I've got a phone simply coz it had an old telephone ring tone in it. After all of this I've got a cellphone that does something incredibly unique, it just helps me make and receive phone calls. No gimmicks at all, no Bluetooth, which I haven't realised what it was for (always thought the name sounded cool though!!), no infrared port, isn't that what is used in television remotes?? (Heck I if know) No cool games, no polyphonic sounds, no cameras, nothing.

The funny part is that I'm loving it. Here is a phone that promises me nothing. No cool photos, when in reality camera photographs are grainy and dark at best, (the only picture that I ever took in a year of owning a high end camera phone was that of my dog, one picture, thats it), nor are there any promises of internet connectivity when it takes you half a life time to load a page, no video options that promises me live pictures, when all you get is a 10 second clip that takes years to download. It's a simple phone where I can make and receive calls. It has taken me five years, 8-9 phones and more money than I'd care to count to realise what I wanted.

Now if I can only resist the temptation for a Blackberry phone to check my 2 emails a day....