The unimpressive cycle of making a positive impression

Your whole life, I believe is being spent in striving to impress somebody or the other, other than your own self.

When you are a toddler, you try to stand up so that when you do so your parents become elated and applaud. You crave for their attention. You strive to make a positive impression. As you grow up, when you start talking, when the first syllable props out of your mouth, again you do so to impress the people around you. This time you are more popular, for you can walk around, hence your neighbours join your parents to become the audience whom you strive to impress.

Then one fine day your parents decide that it’s the time to admit you in a school. In days of severe competition as today, you have an interview and some schools also have a written test – an entrance test to be precise, for a 3 year old. In 1989, I had an interview myself to get into my school. My school was an esteemed one in Chennai and that was the first and the last interview of my life that I successfully cracked. For at that time you do not think much, you behave in the best possible way so as to impress the interviewer (a teacher or principal in this case). As you grow old, your thought patterns are marred by logic, and you do not dance to the interviewer’s tunes and hence, fail to impress him. Anyway that’s a different story altogether. Now let’s move on.

Now you are 3-4 years old, your parents have got bored of you, and they decide to have another kid. In marketing terms, they are trying out a new product. When customer switches a brand the earlier brand tries to retain the customer. This gives way to competition. And hence arise a series of customer retention strategies, road shows etc. to impress the customer and enhance his brand loyalty. So on similar lines, you as a 3-4 year old throw tantrums and try to catch your parents’ attention which seems to be going towards your new born bro/ sis. In case you are a single son, do not worry, you invariably have a smarter neighbor who impresses your parents better than you are able to. And you again strive to get their attention and do everything possible to impress them.

Now that you have grown older – say around 10-12, and have succeeded in getting equal attention as your sibling, you try to expand your business. You venture into foreign markets i.e. your school. Your new customers are your teachers. Whoaa!!! This time you have as many as 40 odd competitors from diverse backgrounds. Only the topper is acknowledged and the rest are in the also ranked category. So you along with the other 40 products in the market, compete to get that one medal from the principal by impressing him. It’s not just a onetime affair during the exams. At every class, you raise your hands and try to answer the maximum number of questions your teacher asks, so that she is impressed by your studiousness and appreciates you. You feel elated for you have been singled out and appreciated from the rest of the class. You strive hard to top in every possible activity. You slog and take part in all the quizzes, elocution competitions, recitation competitions, speech competitions; some even manage to excel in sports; all so that someone will come and give a pat on your back and tell you –“You are amazing, intelligent, hardworking and talented”. And you feel – “Wow!!”.

This continuous till you reach your 10^th and 12^th standard, you have played your cards well so far and have strived to impress everybody you have met in your life so far. Now suddenly you are writing the board exam and you have competitors from the entire school (200 students for school 1^st) and sometimes the entire country for board level ranking. You strive harder for minimizing the margin between the total marks and the marks you score.

Now that you have 17 years of experience in impressing the smaller sections of the society – home, neighbors and school; you are prepared for the next stage of college. All this seasoning so far is not without a reason – they are to prepare you to make the ultimate impression. You give the entrance exams to get into the supposedly the best colleges of the country. Some prepare for over 2 years to get into the premiere institutes, so that they, their family members and in future may be his wife and kids can brag that – I am/ my son is / my hubby is/ my dad is/ from XYZ College. In an Indian scenario, the XYZ considered worth bragging is invariably an IIT.

At this stage you can fall into one of the 2 categories – succeeded to impress/ failed to impress your family, friends and relatives. This depends on the kind of college you get in and the kind of college your near and dear are impressed with. Whether you manage to impress or not, you are ready to make your next positive impression on someone.

At this stage it’s the seemingly most beautiful girl of your class. The entire college of 500 odd people in your batch is trying to woo her. Now who among you is going to impress her is the game. So you be good at studies, so that you may get an opportunity to teach her or study with her; you try to be chivalrous so that she turns back gives you a secret glance during the lectures which sets your friends stomachs on fire; you try to become the head of all the committees possible in the college so that you can allot her a task where she can work only with you etc. All so that someone may come to you and say – “You are very good man, that’s why she is impressed with you, none of us stand near you”. [I don’t have a girl’s version of this, for I have never been a girl.]

Then finally one day you succeed to impress her and she agrees to a committed relationship with you. And you find there is a never ending list of Dos that you gotto do to impress her more. So you sacrifice all your time with friends, your games, you change the way you think (or some forget to do a sane thinking) all to impress her. And at this stage when you have fully changed yourself to impress her, you start preparing her to impress your parents.

Now that you have committed a sin (I mean a kin), you have to impress your people back home in a big way with your career, so that they will marry you to the girl of your dreams as compensation. Why a compensation? Of course right! All life you have strived to impress them and you need a reward for yourself.

So now you have a new set of people to impress upon. Those whom you now impress would get you an impressive career. I have always wondered why carrier and career have almost similar pronunciations but different spellings. It’s now that I realized that a career doesn’t carry you anywhere. A miscarriage is inevitable in ones career. Hence the different spelling is rightly justified. Anyway, back to career, you strive to impress the job interviewers and at some stage you manage to impress someone who gets you a job. And every day in job, you work hard to impress your boss and you have a 1000 co-workers competing for the same. You can simply do your job and get your salary; but NO; because your target audience thinks you have to climb up the corporate ladder. Hence you try to impress your seniors so that you are promoted so that you impress your target audience (this has become too large now – family, friends, friends of friends, families of friends, friends of friends of friends etc.)

But somewhere when you were trying to impress so many people the girl whom you managed to impress has changed her impression about you. Is this fair? Of course it is. Come on this is perfectly justified. Dint you do the same when you had a new born sibling? Were you not angry with your parents because they gave more attention to the infant? After all, your parents were also trying to impress the new born so that it would try to impress them all its life. So when you were trying to impress your large target audience, your girl felt left out and got her a new attention giving machine – I mean another boy friend.

I know you are tired now. You try to think if all this striving to impress somebody is worth it at all. You wanna break free. But you can’t. Because, if you break free, the society will call you a coward, and all those whom you managed to impress all these 25 odd years will give up on you. People will think you have become insane and pity you for the same. So now you decide to show them that you are a fighter. You strive harder than ever and get promoted in your firm; manage to get a fatter pay.

Now all those whom you have impressed try to get you an impressive girl. You have an impressive job and an impressive pay. You meet the girl’s dad and try to impress him that you would be the best son-in-law he would ever get. You try to so the same with the wife would be. And finally you manage to impress somebody and tie the knot.

You think it’s all over. But it’s your turn as a parent now. You fall into this unimpressive cycle of making an impression. There is no redemption from the same.

Having seen everything from the son’s or daughter’s or student’s or boyfriend’s or girlfriend’s perspective; you get to see a new perspective - a parent’s perspective.

You give birth to a kid and have the pressure to make him most impressive. You put him in the most impressive school so that you can tell your colleague – “My son studies in the PQR School”. You prepare him and make him stand first in the class, so that you can tell your colleague –“My son is the 1^st rank in his class”.

The cycle continuous till your son reaches 25 odd and starts thinking what he has been doing. At this stage you start impressing your son. You do that so that your son can tell his friends – “My dad is the best in the world, he is chill”. You wear a new face and tolerate everything he does so that he can come to you and say – “Dad I love you, you are the best”. When he gets married your target audience increases. You have multiple reasons to impress your son now. You are partially scared he might take his wife’s side. So you play safe and also start working towards impressing your daughter-in-law; so that when you grow older she doesn’t conspire to throw you out of home. Then you have a grandson, you call him all pet names and try to impress him so that he may play a few games with you and be with you.

Finally you are old now. You know you have a little time left. So go to scriptures and start reading them. It is because you now think God is your next customer. So you prepare to impress him.

Now let’s make 3 columns. Column 1 contains all the work you have actually done in your life. Column 2 contains all the work you should have done in your life so as to impress all the people around you. Column 3 contains all the work you would have wanted to do in your life to impress your own self. Column 3 is optional – you might or might not have figured out what to have in that column. At times in your efforts to make Column 1 à Column 2, you would never have thought about a Column 3. But some people do succeed in finding their Column 3, at some point in their life. Whether they work towards it or not is a different issue altogether. Let’s find the Karl Pearson’s co-efficient of correlation between the data of Column 1 and Column 2; Column 1 and Column 3; Column 2 and Column 3. In most cases the value would be between -0.5 to -1, indicating a negative correlation.

Okay, these are my thoughts. But why the hell should I publish this in my blog? It’s because a couple of my friends would appreciate me for what I have written. I would succeed in impressing a few of them.

Now when am I going to break free?

Where is my freedom of speech and expression?

1997 – I was an 11 year old, studying in 7^th standard in my school. It was my Civics period. My Civics teacher was taking a class on the Indian Constitution. She taught us that our Constitution provided us with 6 fundamental rights, one among them being ‘Right to freedom’. Under this particular right, we were provided with 7 fundamental freedoms – the first one being ‘freedom of speech and expression’. She also read out the preamble to our constitution – "We the people of India....resolved...to secure to all its citizens ....LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;...". I cannot forget the pride in the teacher’s voice and the gleam on her face when she was taking this class – she mentioned India had the largest democracy of the world, and people possessed a lot of freedom. Such luxuries were not a reality in communist countries or in the pre-independence India.

1998/99 – The Polyester Prince – Biography of Dhirubhai Ambani banned from circulation in India. The book exposes the holy nexus between the protagonist and the Indian Government. It shows how Dhirubhai managed to control and subjugate the press, bring down a Central Government and bribed Politicians to obtain legislations in his favour. Ban in India is believed to be due to proximity of Mukesh Ambani to the present Government.

2005 – Gujarat – The movie ‘Parzania’ is banned in the state of Gujarat – a tight slap on the face of our freedom of speech and justice. The movie is based on Dara Mody and family, whose son (Azhar Mody) is missing since the massacre during the 2002 communal riots. And there were several such families in reality.

2008 – Desh Dhrohi – The Bhojpuri film was banned from being screened in the Mumbai theatres. The movie was due for release immediately after the MNS menace in Mumbai. The film depicts the antagonistic/ unwelcoming attitudes towards North Indians in Maharashtra (Mumbai).

2009 – The worst of all – Jaswant Singh’s book ‘Jinnah: India- Partition- Independence’ has triggered such a hue and cry, to the extent of such a senior politician like Jaswant Singh being expelled from the party. Worse, the book has been banned throughout Gujarat.

These are incidents, just to name a few; and there would be many more for sure.

A few thoughts about the last mentioned episode – the BJP has expelled Jaswant Singh from the party, a member who has been involved with the party right from its inception.

All Jaswant did was write a book – a collection of facts, which he has researched on – which needs clear reading, appreciating and debating, for none of us were really present at the time of India’s independence, or Jinnah’s/ Nehru’s/ Patel’s/ Gandhiji’s time. All that we know are what we have read in ths history textbooks. This leads us to another issue which has been raised many a times – the Govt. tampering with the NCERT textbooks. The new NCERT history textbooks defame Bhagat Singh as a terrorist, and have made a fleeting 4 line mention of Chatrapathi Shivaji – pushing him to insignificance. With this ever-changing history of ours, I wonder how much of what I read in my history books were actually true.

Back to the issue of BJP – As it is the party has exposed a lot of weakness within itself, and this episode only worsens the image of the same. It has made a fool of itself, exposed its intolerance and emphasized its fanaticism. Jaswant’s statements in an interview – “…In 30 years time organisations, people change. I think the signal aspect of change that has come, which I have shared with my colleagues, including the RSS,--that what has changed in the nature of the BJP is the taste of power. Up till the extent of struggle for power, the BJP was an organisation of flame--like purity. Power tarnished it…” further denigrates the image of the party. I wonder if the UPA is partying witnessing these.

A word about our elections – a multi party system that we possess in our country, a concept of simple majority, a coalition system of Government, with rampant corruption and booth trafficking – I wonder if our right and duty to vote has any impact on the state. For a long time our governance has been dominated by the Congress party, with the BJP showing some challenge in the last decade. But now, or at least as of now, there is not even an outside chance for a third front, leave alone the fourth one. With this weakening of BJP – I wonder if our democracy’s watchwords – for, by and of the people Government will ever be true; for where is the choice the people have.

A quote from Jaswant Singh, during his interview to CNN IBN’s Rajdeep Sardesai sums it up perfectly – “…Have come to a situation in the country where thinking, research, reading, writing, discussing, debating, disagreeing on issues, on written material is taboo. It would be a very sad India; it would be a very dark India…

The Bhel Puri Consultant

I have coined a new term - "Bhel Puri Consultant".

Its been over 2.5 months since a friend of mine joined a company. He has worked on roughly 5-6 tasks, tasks which are mutually exclusive and collectively 'in'exhaustive. 2 of them have been completed successfully, and the rest are hanging in air.

A Bhel Puri Consultant is one like this, whose work is not defined, whose mandate in the company is not sure to anyone, but the designation is 'Consultant, Marketing Consultant etc.' with perceived meanings. Such profiles are common in extremely small companies, with no sound products, no structure and with no process in flow. After working for a period of time, when you look back, you will notice that your work experience looks like a bhel puri you eat on roadside chat shops. You will not be able to find a connection between the ingredients - all unrelated (and hopefully harmless) edibles are mixed thoroughly till they lose their individual identity.

The only difference between a Bhel Puri Consultant and the recipe which is eaten is this - bhel puri tastes good has a good market value, its a volume game (priced low and sold to large consumers); whereas a Bhel Puri Consultant doesn't taste good, has low market value and his CV goes to the bin.

Kannathil Mutham Ittaal

Eyakathukku.. Mani Ratnam
Vasanuthukku..Sujatha
Padalkalukku..Vairamuthu
Isaikku.. A R Rahman

'Kannathil Mutham Ittaal' is one such movie where we witnessed this dream combo , not to forget the exemplary cast - Madhavan, Simran (at her ravishing best), Nandita Das, Pasupathi etc.

This post in definitely not meant to be a review of this 2002 movie, but has found its place in my blog 'coz of my awe inspired admiration for everything that was in the package called ‘Kannathil Mutham Ittaal’ – an excellent story line that brought out the plight of war hit, innocent Sri Lankan Tamils & Sinhalese in the most natural way; the amazing background scores and lyrics; the positioning of the songs at the right junctures; the dialogues etc. etc.

The lyrics of two particular songs have made me fall on my knees with intense love and admiration for the language called Tamizh (Tamil).

Scene 1:
Simran accepts Madhavan’s proposal to marry her. She has been waiting for this moment, waiting for him to propose to her for a year. The following on screen romance and their marriage is accompanied by a background score with one of the finest lyrics I have ever heard:

sattunu nanaindhadhu nenjam,
sarkarai aagudhu kanneer,
inbum inbum oru thunbam, oru thunbathil ethannai perinbam...

udalukkul malligai thooral,
en uyirukkul valliya thedal,
sukamaaai...
sukamai sukamai kollai yadi,
en uyirai mattum vittu vidu...

intha vaasal varai kaadhal nadanthu varum endru kaatru kidenthen,
athu vaanil paranthu vanthu koorai therandhu varum endru indru thelindhen..

thaavi vandhu ennai anaitha podhu endhan salli vergal arunthen,
saavin ellai varai sendru nindru indru rendu jenmam anaindhein..

thudikkum udhadu kondu thodaithidu vekkathai,
anaippu in adhikathaal veliyethu achchathai..
(These 6 lines are my favourite)

sukumai sukamai kollaiyadi,
en uyirai mattum vittu vidu...

sattunu nenaidhadhu nenjam

Scene 2:
The opening shot of the movie – the typical Mani Ratnam style opening with 10 minutes of movie and then the title with background score – another set of heart melting lyrics:

Vellai pookkal ulagam engum malargavey!
Vidiyum bhoomi amaithikkaga vidigavey!
Manmael manjal velichcham vizhugavey!
Malarey soambal muriththu ezhugavey!

Kuzhandhai vizhikkattumae, thaayin kadhakadhappil
Ulagam vidiyattumey, Pillayin siru mudhal sirippil...
(these 2 lines are definitely my favourite; so much meaning in the context of the movie)

Kaatrin paerisayum,
Mazhai paadum paadalgalum,
Oru mounam, poal inbam, tharumo? (wow)

Kodi keerthanamum
Kavi koartha vaarthaigalum,
Thuli kanneer, poal artham, tharumo? (wow)

Engu siru kuzhandhai,
Than kaigal neettidumo,
Angu thoandraayo, vellai, nilavey!

Engu manidha inam,
Poar oindhu saaindhidumo,
Angu koovaayo, vellai, kuyile!

It is for the first time in my life, I regret for not having taken Tamil (tamizh) as my higher language in school. Of course, I did learn Hindi and I’m able to manage it well, but it is always easier to appreciate the richness of mother tongue than any other language. English is the language I know the best, I do appreciate it, but still there hasn’t yet been a moment in my life, where I have come across a few lines of an English poem/ song that I would say has struck a chord with my soul.

I guess its time to get back and read some Tamil literature J

No pains, no gains

After a 6 month hiatus, the gym I hit;
the touch of iron and the smell of sweat.

Felt wat I had missed, the same familiar pain;
but this time I know its not gonna be in vain.

Some say it's insane to train with so much pain;
but I hear Arnold say - no pain, no gain.

I see many builders - big and small;
but I ignore them and move towards a wall.

As I lift the weights,I see my muscles move in the mirror;
I feel and know that I have the superpower.

After a 6 month hiatus, the gym I hit;
I know I am gonna be a SUPERHIT.

My ticket to moon just got cancelled

Having my breakfast, as I watch the headlines "Chandrayaan-1 develops critical malfunction", my mind shifts to a scene 8 months before - "Chandrayaan launched". I still remember reading news articles which said that people would soon start (or had already started) buying and selling land on moon, predicting that the prices would appreciate, so that when man eventually landed there one day to begin his life, they would become billionaires. Very soon, I also read an article "when the bubble burst", about the burst of the investment banks and insolvency of Lehman Brothers. I couldn’t stop correlating the two, both being cases of man’s greed, cases of trading practically intangible assets. It is in this context that I become dumbstruck in total awe of human mind’s imagination – to make a ‘surreal’ concept look ‘so real’, and when the bubble bursts, sit in utter dismay wondering how it really happened.

USD 80 MIO is the expected budget of Chandrayaan project. A report says almost 50% of Indians are below poverty line. I am a 'much above average citizen' of the country and the news of Chandrayaan has made no impact on me. I wonder what impact this expenditure would make to the majority of the Indians. May be in the long run it would, but I guess at least for the present it would be more prudent to have more of government expenditure for the people and collaborate with other countries than compete with them in sending rockets - ‘Indian made rockets’ - to space which eventually fail (fall). I don’t have fingers in my hand to count the number of failed ISRO ventures – most of them, may be all of them have been re-inventing the wheel type, rather than path breaking. In a country like ours where millions are starving in abject poverty, resource allocation should be more meaningful.

But alas! This place called Earth is crazy, so are the earthlings – the only reason I see to conduct these experiments, so that people tired of this planet and its inhabitants can flee to Mars or Moon or wherever life is deemed possible. But again, will those people tired of Earth get the chance, when it eventually comes?

A bachelor’s odyssey in Mumbai

It was my final year of post graduation, virtually the last few months, the placement time and all the accompanying brouhaha – tho’ not the usual scenario of being spoilt by choices of a huge list of companies visiting the campus, but the recession triggered anxiety of if there would be enough to pick us all. With recruitment freeze in every company that you could have heard of, with salary expectations falling southwards, with the news of flop shows at institutes where the placement season has ended before it could begin, you could always spot a bunch of students sitting in the canteen discussing what our alternate strategy to beat the recession should be. I have lost count of the number of nights during the run up to the placements when I have overheard a trillion such discussions every time I walked through the canteen, but every time I heard them I just prayed for one thing – “Oh God! Please don’t get me a job in Mumbai, I would go anywhere in the country (anywhere in the world wasn’t an option anyway) for I wouldn’t be able to manage the cost of living here, and more importantly wouldn’t be able to bargain for every single thing I bought here”. The second reason was far more valid for the simple fact that except the autowalas and khirana shop walas every guy you meet in Mumbai would sweep you off the floor. You gotto bargain for every single thing, there is no price called the right price, and things are sold at face value (value of your face, not the item’s). I still remember that whenever I have bought myself a shoe or a sweat shirt or whatever from a local unbranded shop, I have always taken a guy with me who bargained well and invariably I have felt cheated every time. And of course, like all other prayers this too didn’t happen. Very soon I ended up with a job in this very city.

The week I was recruited, I was informed that the office was in a place called Kandivali, a suburb in Mumbai. To avoid the insane rush in the local trains, to avoid hearing scores of people abusing my sisters and daughters (that I didn’t have), I decided to hunt for a house in Kandivali, choosing it ahead of cheaper Borivali, Dahisar or Mira Road and ahead of Andheri where I could have shared an accommodation with a couple of my classmates. It was March, the college hadn’t ended and the joining date hadn’t come. But I had started hunting for houses, assuming I would join sometime in May. I called up a couple of brokers after getting their numbers from various web sites and got the same reply “Mai (Marathi for May I guess) may chahiye? April bees thareek ke baad phone karna” and slammed their phones on my ears. All I had wanted to know was the approximate rent to expect, so that I could optimize the level of my expectations.

Not being able to get through any broker over the phone, I took a friend with me to meet some directly. We saw an estate agency named ‘Divine Estate Agency’ and entered it. There was a long, narrow, dark, stuffy veranda that led to a small, square room with a glass door. It was a very hot and humid summer afternoon and the sight of the glass door gave me some relief, I was obviously expecting it to be air conditioned. Unfortunately it wasn’t. There was a fat man with a big pot belly sitting inside under a four blade fan (which was making more noise than air) comfortably chewing and spitting pan. He gave us an unwelcoming look under which we took our seats. I looked around to find that the walls were painted in a shade of red which made me wonder if he had done it himself by spitting all around. I broke the silence, which would have lasted for at least a minute tho’ it seemed like a few hours to me, by explaining to him – “Bhaisaab, Bhaade pe makaan chahiye – 1BHK/ 1RK, Milega?”. He spits some of what he was chewing into some vessel and curtly asked –“Aap party hain, ya broker?”. I tried answering to him, but could not control my mind flashing to a scene from the movie “Khosla ka ghonsla”. All along I had been telling myself to be extra cautious with the brokers I would meet, so that I am not taken for a ride. But these first authoritative words from the broker made me look like a mouse in front of a cat. I gathered myself together and did my best to reply to him in a typical Boman Irani style – “Party.. party!” with skewed lips, frowned eye brows and a wry, sarcastic smile. I am sure it made no impact. He showed me some houses, which were so old and dilapidated, that I thought it would crumble any moment. He maintained the same superior behavior all through so much that I was waiting for him to stop showing us the houses, so that I could escape from his clutches and the zone of discomfort.

The next person we met was a direct party who was prepared to rent out his apartment. He made us sit on a sofa, and he himself sat on a high window sill, which made me think if we were at the wrong side of the negotiation already. And then he came up with a set of DONTS that I should follow – ‘shouldn’t disturb the neighbors, shouldn’t play loud music, shouldn’t get a gal during the night etc’. Obviously I wasn’t there to do these. Again my mind switched to a scene from ‘Khosla ka…’ where Ranvir Shorey reads out what was written on the fence of their land which had been confiscated – “yahan pishaap karna mana hay” and exclaims – “Kamaal hay jhi, idhar pishaap thodi karne ayein hain”. I couldn’t stop laughing thinking of this scene and tried hard to convert that laugh to an innocent smile, making it clear to him that I was from a good background and such crappy stuff didn’t interest me. And frankly speaking I wasn’t taking that house to create hell for his neighbors. I wondered if these rules applied to them too. It was then my friend (whom you would be wondering what he was up to) spoke in full appreciation of me, my character and told him such good things about me that even I didn’t know I possessed. I had actually fallen into the owner’s trap. All these were just a precursor to scare me and emphasize on the fact that finding people who would rent out their homes to bachelors was as scarce as hen’s teeth. Then after laying his trap, he gave me a lecture on himself and his house which according to him was the dream house I would get. The house supposedly had everything and was very well furnished, but somehow all I could see was a broken wardrobe and a dusty sofa-cum-bed. He then put down his offer – 11k rent and 1 lakh deposit – and guess what, he added that he was very reasonable. I wanted to shout that he was after all offering me a 1-RK. With immense negotiation skills that I believed I possessed I got the offer down to 8.5k and 75K deposit, only to discover the next day that he has advertised the same house for 7k and 50k deposit. So my first tryst with the brokers and house owners had been a fall on my face. As I was planning my next stage of negotiations for having spotted the ad on net I was informed that my office was shifting to Goregaon, another suburb in Mumbai and the DOJ was June 1st. It gave me enough time to both search a house and mentally prepare myself to face these ruthless brokers.

End of May and I returned to Mumbai after a 2 month holiday back home, all charged up to get me a house. I was all prepared and had even got myself a house mate (tho’ not a house yet), only to realize I had a different set of troubles awaiting me. First, Goregaon East was a residential location, which for reasons known to none translated to no accommodation for bachelors. This was very crazy if people thought bachelors could stay in their offices, or if people imagined I could get into a contract marriage just to get an accommodation. I wouldn’t dismiss a situation in future where the brokers would be ready with the girl too, to get their deals done. I was temporarily put with some of my friends at Andheri, so that I could peacefully and religiously hunt for a house. I landed at the airport at 11 30 AM, threw my bags at my friends place and rushed to Goregaon to check out for some brokers. After a five minute walk on the road, where the rickshawala dropped me, I found a small shop with a board –‘Durga Estate Agency’. Wondering why these people always had names like Divine, Durga; I entered the so called office and found myself asking him “Bhaisaab..ek makaan chahiye bhade pe…2BHK”. Having got a house mate, we had decided to go for a 2 BHK. There was a long silence. I continued staring at him at his eye, just to give him the impression that I knew the tricks of the trade too well that he cannot fool me. Here comes his reply “Bachelor hein?” ……. “Haan.”……. “Bachelors ko kaun ghar deta hay? Aap karthe kya ho?” I immediately sensed that he was trying to instill fear in me, that it would be difficult for me to get a house, and I better take what he gives me, without a delay. I answered him “ABC se MBA kiya hoon… XYZ Pvt. Ltd. may kaam kar raha hoon” for my institute was famous in Mumbai tho’ the company name was unheard of and difficult to pronounce. It ended up that he didn’t know both. His next action was interesting. He lifted the phone, dialed some numbers and said “2BHK hay?.... Abhi dekh saktein hain?......Party samne baiti hay, jaldi..”. He then asks me “Kya co. bataye aap?”….”XYZ…. Goregaon East”… and he continued over the phone “Koi bohut achchi company may kaam kar rahein hain….. theek hay… ham pahunchthe hain” and kept the phone. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. I myself hadn’t known that such a company existed till it came to my campus and now these brokers give an impression as if it was some McKinsey/ JPMC, I quickly realized that he wouldn’t know those companies either :P. The house was a match box sized 2 BHK and priced at 19K and 1.5 lacs, God it was empty too!! He then gave me some gyan that I wouldn’t get a 2 BHK for anything less than 25 and suggested we share a 1BHK. After a series of flops I decided to settle for a 1 BHK.

It didn’t take me much time to realize that almost the entire Goregaon East stayed at a place called Gokuldham, which was a 25-30 year old housing society. The houses were rotting, the walls were wet by water seepage so much that when I placed my hands in one of them they literally made a nice impression on it like on a wet mass of clay. I ran from that locality deciding never to return. At the broker’s office he said “Sirji… that was an amazing house, this is the best you can get, I have never found such a good house, it’s not expensive also”. Gimme a break dude. I wouldn’t have taken it even had he given the house for free. And he was asking me a 15k for it.

I finally met a broker who seemed very good. He patiently showed me several houses. They all seemed very good. I finally had 4 choices. Smart that I thought I was, I decided to gatecrash into some of the neighbors to enquire about those localities. Two of them were downright negative, they were in riot prone areas –guess what kind of riots –Hindu Muslim clashes supposedly :P. The guy I spoke to showed me a raised pedestal at the corner of a large muddy ground where people of the two religions would fight during the Ram leela every year. That was the last thing I wanted in Mumbai. The third one was a construction almost complete, but hadn’t got its water and power supply. I am not an early man to survive on sunlight and to drink the water from Arabian Sea. The fourth was in 7th floor out of a 10 storey building, and man, it didn’t have an elevator.

A 5th house had come up by then. It was a 15 minutes drive on a 2 wheeler from the highway. The road to home (not Rome) was supposedly through a jungle and not very safe at night. To top it all, it was a toll road which closed at 12 midnight. To test the safety me and my ‘house-mate to be’ decided to take an auto and travel to that house at eleven at night. We stopped a rickshaw guy and told him “Royal Palms… Aarey colony”… He gives us a weird look and drove away as fast as possible. After some 7-9 such refusals, one guy finally agreed. We paid the toll and entered the colony. For half the distance we saw some vehicles coming in the opposite direction from Powai. But, there was no sign of any civilization after that. A few crazy souls, most of them who seemed to be stoned were seen here and there. The entire road was flanked by dense jungles on both sides with faint street lights here and there. My house-mate to be, had been there once in day light, but couldn’t find the way at night. We lost our way and entered a zone with no light and absolutely no sign of any human activity. It was jungle and jungle everywhere with this small road in between. It was then that I started a conversation with the rickshaw guy “bhai saab… eh jagah kaisa hay? Raath may safe hay kya?”, not knowing if surakshit was the apt word for to use for safety. He jerked back “patha nahi aap kahan lekhe ah gayein hain… mere dho bachein hain….” It struck me that he was too silent all the way only because he was too scared to speak. He then added “Suna hay idhar sher, cheetah ghoomthe hein… abhi dho haftein pehle dhas saal ka ek bachcha cheetah ko pakadke mar daala”. Two things struck me – one: what he was referring to as cheetah could actually be a leopard and two: he was so scared that he was blabbering. Finally after a very long journey we entered something that looked like a gated community with barbed wires which I thought could be for protection against the wild animals. At the gate, we realized that not only had we lost the way, but had gone a full circle to reach the Powai entrance instead of the Goregaon one. In any case we entered a place where humans existed. Got down from the auto, paid him and saw him drive like he ran (drove) for his life. We met some of the residents there to enquire about the safety of the place and one amongst them happened to be a sexy air hostess. Her uniform indicated that she must have been working for Spice Jet. I struck a long conversation with her, not being able to contain myself from looking at her curves, my mind wandering about the numerous chit chats and flirtations I could have with her (and who knows may be with many like her) if I chose this place to stay. I tried to behave as gentlemanly as possible and prove that my intentions were not to flirt, but was sincerely restricted only to the enquiry I had to make. But the naughty smile she gave me at times proved I hadn’t succeeded. But who cares, I got a double in any case.

After a dozen days of several such odysseys and rendezvous with ruthless brokers I finally managed to find an apartment in a location that looked the best to me. I fell flat at the sight of the fully furnished house and more importantly the cucumber like cool owner. Our first meeting of negotiation at his place was a total contradiction to everything that I had witnessed in the previous month. He offered us his drinks and lay the ground rules – “You can do whatever you want, party hard, get a girl, do anything you want, I am really not bothered. Just take care none around you complains to me.” The negotiations were a bit easier this time, and we finally settled to take this house.

We moved in a week later only to face the next surprise of Mumbai – the rudeness of neighbors towards tenants. It’s been almost three weeks since we have moved in here and I have approached my neighbors for help a several times – for the maid servant, laundry, departmental stores etc. Not once has anyone invited us inside their homes, on the other hand we get cold curt replies, slamming of doors on the face, a look of we being inferior, not to forget that if we keep the door at the entrance open and someone passes by the staircase she (it’s always a she) would wait to stare inside the house at us as if we were aliens from a totally different planet.

May be it is this way in every city, but I am sure things get at least a little more complicated and interesting in Mumbai. Phew!! My tryst with this place and the struggle with the neighbors continue…

That thing called love

Now before you read ahead, let me warn u that this isn’t any romantic recollection of my moments with an imaginary girl friend of mine. This is something more important :P (as people put it), about the often heard, clichéd ‘do what u love funda’.

Now when did I first hear this – “Do what you love the most, rather than what the mob does”. Lemme recollect. Thanks to the conservative surroundings I grew up in, none told me all these till I reached my college. Till I finished my school people around me seemed surer than me and about themselves, about what I should do in my life. My tasks were limited to execution of those allocated to me – preparing for exams (whether u liked it or not), aim to top the class (I have never understood why, that I never have topped is a different issue altogether), the no. of hrs I studied, the no. of hrs I spent on cricket coaching, karate etc. etc – like that of a project engineer in an IT company. By virtue of being amongst the top 20 odd percent of the students who studied in my school, I found an even more number of people (my teachers and seniors) who were sure of what I should do in my life – which branch of study I should choose in 11th and what stream of graduation I should pursue. Never during these times did I ever think of what I really wanted to do, or bothered to find what I loved doing – the only thing I knew was falling in love was a social taboo (WARNING: Society here refers to those people who lived in the geography covered by Erstwhile Madras, now Chennai).

By way of a concept similar to the one proposed by Charles Darwin –the theory of natural elimination (at IIT-JEE), I landed up in a crazy engineering college near a zoo, at the outskirts of Chennai. There was only a compound separating the zoo and my college (physically), but in my four years in that college, I could not find what separated the living beings in my college from those in that zoo. That’s a different story altogether. Now without digressing let’s come to the issue at stake. As I had been trained to do for the 16 long years – to execute what was told, the 1st thing I did in the zoo, err the college was to approach my seniors and ask them for ‘career guidance’. It is interesting that this activity of career guidance neither has a mandatory qualification nor any fees. Like the 2nd law of thermodynamics (every spontaneous reaction increases entropy), every spontaneous action of yours increases the career guidance (advice) you get and hence the entropy. It was here for the first time, that one of my immediate seniors gave a long speech to a bunch of freshers (including me) to do what we love, and not to follow the mob. From then on it has become the taraka mantra of existence. Do what you love – became the one stop solution to all the problems a 17 yr old faced. If things went wrong, it was because, he has never liked doing it; it was forced upon him, and hence went wrong. If by chance, something went right, that was what he always loved to do.

It was then that I sat back and wondered what I loved to do the most. For those who have been criticizing my digression in this blog, it is this which I loved to do the most – to let my thoughts wander and be like one of those monkeys in the zoo. But painfully none accepted this as a career worth pursuing, not even my senior who had given me the taraka mantra. To my agony this has been the same thing everyone wanted to do. And it is now, when someone added, it is not just enough to do what you love, but it should either be unique or you should do it the best.

I lay at home in retrospection, thinking of the teen days when I dreamt of batting with my idol Rahul Dravid, hitting the winning six in a nail biting ODI; witnessing the Republic day parade with the President of India for having secured 4 merit cards in the board examinations (not to forget the total of 493/500 I aimed for in 10th std and ended up with a 460, now don’t ask me how I arrived at the 493, it’s here where the logic defies reality); having scored the JEE rank 1; a black belt in karate etc. etc. All of them had been achieved in my imaginations, visualizations and ruefully ended up being my hallucinations. But then, I had realized the ultimate truth – none of these were those that I really loved, and wanted from the bottom of my heart, so I hadn’t given my 100% and rightfully so.

I then took a fierce resolution to do only those I loved to do in my life, to follow my earnest desires, to discover what destiny had in store for me. Of course, I dint have the option to do a penance in the Himalayas, but I painstakingly did one thing very close to my heart – I stopped studying for exams. Somewhere along these 4 years at engineering, I felt I wanted to pursue body building. I was actually in love with it and was doing it well. But again the same people (those who knew better than me on what I wanted, those who for some reason seemed inexistent for sometime) surfaced and advised me against the same. I wanted to write, but the same people found it an unfeasible option. All I could do was to choose between an MS and an MBA and a job. What an amazing way to implement the learning I have had – ‘to do what you love’. I didn’t like taking up a job, nor did I want to pursue an MS, so by the theory of natural elimination I chose to do the MBA. Darwin chose to be my side this time, given the limited choices. I was sitting at the MBA interviews answering with immense confidence that an MBA was what I always wanted to do, justifying with facts and the matching skill sets I claimed to possess; that amazed even me of all the people. What was even more dazzling was they bought it and offered me an admission into the hallowed portals of one of the most prestigious and supposedly one of the top B schools of the country.

The next stage of life was slightly better than the one I had at the zoo. But what remained in common was my search for what I loved to do the most. Thankfully I was able to spend more time in the gym, in the absence of my people around me (I had shifted to a different city). What flabbergasted me even more was the same people who were so sure of what I wanted, have now decided that I have grown up to decide things on my own. Now come on, this is totally unfair. All these 21 years they have got me to a point, where I dint know how I landed and have left me alone, for they don’t know the path further. It had left me in a position where I had to understand my journey so far, to discover what lay ahead, adding to the burden I already have –my quest for what I loved to do the most.

Things haven’t changed much at this stage too. My seniors (again they are in the picture, with advice unlimited, unsolicited) advised me to find the right industry, the right company and more importantly the right job profile. It is amazing that whenever I had to take a logical decision with my left brain, my right brain invariably functions faster and arrives at a completely illogical decision, rightly (read wrongly) justified. I was sitting for the job interviews justifying why I was most suited for the job description that lay ahead of me. Now comes the brilliant part. The 2nd law of thermodynamics, with every high salary offered, the randomness increases. I become suitable for any job description in the offering. Amazing isn’t it. It is then, when the ‘experienced’ batch mates of mine ask me to give more importance to the job profile, and a low salary didn’t matter to start with. As a sincere but incomplete listener I took up a job satisfying a part of the advice offered – and no cookies for guessing this – low salary of courseJ.

Having chosen the right job, now you know what I am doing here sitting overtime at my office desk – continuing my quest to find what I love doing the most. And now I have arrived at the answer. Just as how job satisfaction is a myth, finding the right girl to marry is a myth, I am now supremely confident that finding what one loves to do the most is also a myth. How do I know this? You gotto trust me on this. Think it as a piece of wisdom you would get when you do penance for a 10,000 years. In fact, Roger Federer just acknowleged this fact sday, when he won the record 15th Grand Slam, and the entire world was watching it with total awe. Did you hear him say -"It's not one of those things you dream as a child", it just happens, trust me. What happens in ones life happens by a series of incidents (read accidents) for which nobody is responsible. But who cares for logic, my quest for that thing called love continues…

The travel called TIME...

Friday night, a weekend after a long week at work (or lack of it). I was relaxing, aimlessly and nonchalantly browsing the TV - when I stumbled across a movie in one of the regional channels. I stopped switching and ended up seeing the movie till the end, as memories flashed in my mind like pictures of a book. The movie had released when I had jus finished my school. I had been to the movie with my best friend of my life. I still remember the way we planned the movie, the discussion we had after the movie while standing at the bus-stop to catch one for home.

Now 6 years later, we have travelled through the journey called TIME. Things are so different now, a lot of things have happened which I had least anticipated. I never really wanted any of the things I have now, but they have all happened. The only thing that has stood the test of time is our friendship. Only this remains the same, tho' we have travelled different roads, been through different places and met different people.

I just stopped to wonder at my past - 6 years. A week before the day we had seen the movie, both of us had appeared for a competitive exam, he made it, I dint. And this small result has shaped our lives in totally different ways. It landed me in a different college, took me thru' various different experiences, which I am sure I dint want then. I looked so helpless, but I travelled, for in this travel of time, u dont have the option to pause, think and play. There are no options of rewinding or forwarding. U meet a lot of people, so many of them, u wonder if it was really essential. Yet some of them make an impact, they stick on to you, or you stick on to them. Some permanently leave u, with ur choice or otherwise.

Now, as I retrospect, it looks like I wanted to climb a mountain, but for some reason or other, I have ended up swimming across a mighty ocean. Things have certainly not turned out the way I had wanted 6 years ago, but wait!!! Does this mean I have fallen in this journey of TIME? Not really. Looking back, TIME has taken me through a different set of experiences. And these have taught me a different set of lessons, which I now appreciate. I have not experienced the breathlessness at the mountain top, had I climbed it; but so what? I would'nt have appreciated the stillness of the mid sea, or the wavy waters near the shores had I gone for the mountains. In any case I have realized what I have seen and learnt, rather than fretting about what I have'nt. And this is what is so unique about the journey of TIME.

The important moral is to take stock of the journey u have had, look for the lessons the chapters of life TIME has taken you through, and plunge into the future where these lessons may hold value. There is no use brooding over the chapters of life, you wanted, but TIME didnt take you through. It is good to believe that you dint need those lessons. What you have is what you need. May be life is like a maze - there is a start and a finish. But there are many routes betwn them. At times, TIME gives you the privilege of choosing the route, at times it chooses them for you. It is smart to use the opportunities when TIME gives you the privilege of choosing the route rather than losing the opportunities thinking of times when TIME chose the route for you.

With this belief, I still travel in the journey of TIME, meeting new people, reading new chapters of my life, learning the lessons, looking out for the opportunity when TIME would give me the choice of the route. I would eventually have it ONE DAY.

Indian democracy - the largest or the laziest in the world?

Babri Masjid report! You actually took 17 years Mr. Liberhan. I have completed my schooling, graduation and post graduation; some of my friends have even got married and are ready to produce their next generation. The eyes of the cameras and thousands of people have caught the political leaders charging up the masses to destroy the mosque and harmony of this nation. I wonder what Mr. Liberhan has been investigating, for so many damn years - 16 yrs, 48 extensions, 400 sittings and 9 crore rupees of public money. I often wonder if our legal procedures are framed in a manner to favor the convict rather than the victim.

Look at Ajmal Kasab, the terrorist was caught on camera gunning down the innocent Mumbaikars. The case has been running for months and who knows, may be years. I have'nt heard of any country that gives a chance to the terrorist to defend himself.
I agree, Law is blinded by circumstancial evidences, but should we overlook the common sense we possess. But yeah, common sense is most uncommon among common people, and definitely void when it comes to our administrators.

Now, should we b proud that we are the largest democracy, or should we be ashamed at our indolence, curroption and bureaucracy that runs thru' the system?

Gay means unhappy in India

Sday i was browsn thru the TV channels and stumbled on a news channel that was debating the amendment of Section 377, gay rights in India. Now give me a break, is this a topic for discussion? Some1 is a straight or a gay or a lesb., how does it really bother you? Who are we to debate on what ones orientation should be. There was this lady (on TV) yesterday who said, by legalising gay culture in India, we would spoil the traditions of the country, the next generation would get spoilt; and that we would do this at the expense of placating a minority. Now look who's talking about placating the minority, India?? In India we have always fucked the majority's interests by giving undue privileges to the minority. I wonder why none opened their mouths when reservations were being made at every level. The lady also mentioned that this section is shfting focus from the women's reservation bill. Lemme not comment on that and waste the space in my blog.
I jus hope the erudite men in our govt. do not criminalize certain postures in bed, by illegalising a doggie, or a man on top equating them to defaming the women. But considering this is India I can expect anythng here

Getting Started

I hv been thnkin for a while that i wud start blogging. But thnkin se thodi kaam chalta hay. So lets give it a start. And here it is .....