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.

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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.