December 28, 2007

To Benazir

Politics has not been a soothing subject of discussion for a clear majority. Now I may be presumptuous at taking such a shot, but the thought of rivalry for the throne of power to rule over people by elections that often leave a stain, on more than just the finger of a voter, is not a comforting idea. In the subcontinent, elections are that time of the year when people get together to see sleep deprived news anchors keeping a tab on a party representative’s performance in a remote town, which they are probably hearing for the first time. Almost like an international beauty pageant where one becomes aware of many countries by gaping at the sash worn by half naked girls with collar bones jutting out. But this is not what I wish to write about. This time around, no wise ass lines, no crack pot wit.

Strange as it seems, being in India for all my life, Pakistan to me has meant great cricket matches, historical connections, volatile relations and some very powerful and charismatic leaders. The country’s internal politics have also prompted many discussions and debates here. Military dictatorship or democratic rule, Pakistani socio-political situation, at various times, has affected me to thinking about the ramifications on India and into what the two countries would be led. One Pakistani leader has always stood out for all the courage and hope lent. Benazir Bhutto.

I was shocked to hear that Benazir Bhutto was assassinated yesterday from a close range. This was during her rally where she planned to lend optimism to the people. I do not know if her politics was best suited for the country. But when she came back to her homeland in October this year, the one thing that was evident was a certain cheer she brought on faces looking for better governance.

Not a favorite subject, not my most confident write, but yet there is something within me that cannot help but feel sad about the turn of events. I remember an interview Bhutto had given long ago to an Indian channel. She had told her story beginning from the execution of her father, to the exile, to her return to power, and her agenda for Pakistan. I may not have completely agreed with her political ambitions, but her courage was incomparable. Her stern resolve to return to her country despite precarious political and social metamorphosis was truly laudable. During the course of events, she repeatedly confirmed to all that she was well aware of the fact that death may come beckoning any moment but yet she touched down and felt at home on returning to a political scenario, one that is still very confusing to me.

She leaves behind a legacy of lion-heartedness and strength for people who believed she could be an agent of change. In a recent chat, she jocularly mentioned that she was called as one who’s not the favorite of the 3 A’s – Allah, Asif (her husband) and America.

I do not wish to believe that the hope she displayed in her rallies has gone down to dust with Bhutto’s assassination. Peace be with her!

October 24, 2007

Papers Not So Pink

(Despite being variously implored and repeatedly threatened by many on including mass media in my articles, they somehow seem to find their way up here.)

For a few days, news elements floating around seem to be creating more than just waves. In fact, these high tides have toppled the consistency of sanity amongst many. The proletariat, the entrepreneurial and the technocrati have responded in various degrees of indifference to each of them, the highest being raised eyebrows and widened eyes. But it was later discovered that it was just the foreplay of a giant sneeze that shattered the ear drums of many in a closed office. The school going children, however, were as tricky to track as the count of the number of outsourced units in India.

An English teacher of an ‘International School’ (this is a term to denote places that have buildings representing obnoxious monstrosity and unconventional education that has parents in knots – in their brain and pockets!) decided to introduce newspaper reading for tiny tots to get them converse better than a hotch potch “That is correct, no Ma’m” and “He only did it, M’am”.

Ma’m (beaming with enthusiasm): “Class, today we shall be doing something new.”
Naughty Tot: “That is what you say in every class, Ma'm.”
Ma’m (not amused, but holding her head high where the clouds floated): “We shall start newspaper reading from this session and then we shall discuss what you read. At the end, one of you shall summarize the news for the day. Dolly, you begin”
Dolly: “Yes M’am. ‘Coimbatore blasts: Basha, nine others get life sentence. The founder leader of proscribed Al-Umma S A Basha and the outfit's general secretary Mohammed Ansari, along with eight key convicts, were on Wednesday awarded life imprisonment in the 1998 Coimbatore serial blasts case.’”
Ma’m: “Thank you, Dolly. Let us see who has the first question.”
Naughty Tot: “Why are we reading 1998 news now? Sid just wrote today’s date on the board. The year is 2007, no Ma’m?”
Ma’m: “Yes, the year is 2007. But the judgement was announced only yesterday. Most of the times the result of such cases is known after a delayed period.”
Naughty Tot: “Does it apply to our school results too?”
Ma’m (sternly): “Ahem! Firoz, the next headline, please. All discussions after it is read out.”
Firoz: “Ok. ‘N-deal will benefit India, US & world says Burns’. I have a question Ma’m- Is N-deal a rock band?”
Ma’m: “No, it stand for Nuclear Deal, which is between India and the US.”
Tot: “New cleaning?”
Ma’m: “Well, not quite. It deals with making weapons and building arsenal.”
Tot: “Wow! Like ‘Counter Strike’ video game?”
Ma’m: “Uhmm… no. let’s move on to entertainment section. Kiti… Sheeti… the last girl in white.”
Tot: “Kshitija, Ma’m. ‘Sanjay Dutt goes to prison again’.”
Naughty Tot: “Man! You know, he went to all temples, still he was taken to prison.”
Ma’m: “No discussing between yourselves.”
Naughty Tot: “You know, he has big gun. I have his poster in my room”
Tot: “Cool! I will come to your house then, ok?”
Ma'm: "Sshh! Avi, the next headline."
Avi: "'Queen Beatrix of Netherlands meets President Pratibha Patil'. Is she Sirius Black's sister, Ma'm?"
Ma'm: "Sirius, who?"
Avi: "Sirius Black, Ma'm. Harry Potter's godfather. He had this wicked witch sister. Is she the same one?"
Dolly: "No! Her name was Bellatrix Lestrange and she was deatheater. She did not wear nice pink hats like this. Deatheaters don't wear hats! Don't you ever read Harry Potter?"
Avi: "Uh... "
Ma'm: "Stop the exodus! Let's move on to Sports section. This should be easy, right? Malcolm, stop rolling eyes around, you are making Gia dizzy. It's your turn to read the news. Remember, discussions only after I ask."
Malcolm: "Ok, Ma'm. 'Rahul Gandhi takes time out to play a cricket match'."
Ma'm: "Good. Who can tell me who Rahul Gandhi is?"
Tot: "A right handed batsman who wears specs? Like Rahul Dravid."
Ma'm: "No, he is no cricketer. He is Member of the Parliament."
Naughty Tot: "But he plays cricket, no Ma'm? Look he is wearing the cricket uniform."
Ma'm: "Just an off day for him."
Naughty Tot (to Malcolm): "The article is in sports section. I bet my bubble gum that Ma'm is wrong."
Tot (excitedly): "I know... he is Mahatma Gandhi's grandson, Ma'm?"
Ma'm: "That's not correct. He is Indira Gandhi's grandson."
Naughty Tot: "But History Ma'm told us that Pandit Nehru was Indira Gandhi's father."
Ma'm: "Yes, that's correct, but... "
Silent Tot: "How does the surname change? And why is it Sir name? Indira Gandhi was a lady, no Ma'm?"
Ma’m (dabbing forehead with a tissue): “Class, quiet! I think this is enough for today.”
Tot: “Ma’m, I will summarize!”
Ma’m (tiredly): “Huh?”

On reaching home, an expectant parent asked his child what he learnt in school today-
Naughty Tot: “Oh Daddy, today we read newspaper. Coi… Coimto… Coimbatore judgement of 1998 was given today. But it is only to tell them that they will have to be in prison and write sentences. I guess they had failed in using adverbs, like SJ. But Ma’m says our results will not be postponed. The nuclear deal has nothing clean about it. It is not even as much fun as Counter Strike. You know, they put you in prison even if you go to temples. Having a poster also does not count. Harry Potter's sister met the President today. Though, in India she does not look like a witch. Finally, the sports news. Mahatma Gandhi's grandson wears specs and plays cricket on an off day.”
Daddy (perplexedly): “You learnt that today? Is that all?”
Naughty Tot: “There was more, but don’t know why Ma’m didn’t want us to read. She has given us 5 long comprehension tests. They are a little confusing. Can you help me finish it, Daddy?”

A Devil’s Workshop called Mind!

(October 28, 2005)

“Hi! My nam’s Dolly Do-little. M hr 2 mk frnz wid sum1 f my types. ne Teddy Free-man lisnin’?”

How profound! But more than the words (or the lack of it), what amazes me is how online chatting could become quickly popular with people of all ages (tell me about despondent uncles and desperate grandpas on portals!). When I introspected the why and what of things, it led me to the deadliest virus of all times. A mortal word called boredom! And this seemingly humble word can drive two legged sloths to activities – creative or otherwise that only a devil could fabricate in his workshop.

What happens when the frustrated guy on bench (off a project temporarily or for as long as he is not laid off!) wants to kill time on a drowsy Monday? There are more chances that he may end up becoming a cartoon artist having drawn monstrous avatars of his team leader / project manager, depending on whose head he’d love to have for supper.

Boredom could also be gripping for some others who do not have the liberty to sketch. So much for living in a democracy! She may sit writing down plans and plots how ‘Kill Bill’-Volume 3 could be made. These creative minds may come up with sub plots that may start from their own cubicle. How interesting would that be? It'd not be a surprise if these amateur conspiracy theorists could give shivers to one Mr. I-love-blood Tarantino!

A few others may choose to convert their misery to entertainment. The best part (or the worst) is that there is no warning sign for all those unsuspecting colleagues who would soon become subjects. While some such ardently working guinea pigs return from lunch to find their workstation filled with post-its, others see that the keys are either missing or interchanged with yet another equally bewildered compatriot. Some of the badly affected ones are those found with certain... ahem... DVDs, which have nothing to do with the Inaugural function, or the day when the boss spoke endlessly at a seminar long forgotten! “Is this really the Chief Fun Officer at work or a monster on the loose?” some victims shout out in desperation.

When a person is devoid of work of some sort (in fact any sort) and is made to feel idle and lazy, it gives rise not only to a devil’s workshop but also to exploitation of the inactive brain. Now, I had not looked at this perspective of the saying, “Necessity is the mother of invention” when boredom cramps a sincere staff member. Whatever be it, this goes out to prove that a devil’s workshop is capable of coming up with some interesting ideas. But, usage at one’s own risk!

October 22, 2007

Of Alsatians and wispy hosts!

(March 28, 2006)

Television is an amusing medium (calling it ‘powerful’ has become such a cliché that cliché has also become such an oft-repeated formula). One is set up to meet so many characters, whether they figure in their calendars or not. Newsmakers attract a fairly good share of eyeballs. Though it is the celebrity / newsmaker who is the focus of such a program, many times the person who analyzes, questions, debates, counter-attacks, occasionally passes an informal jab and sometimes connects the willing celebrity to star-struck or disillusioned audience also becomes a celebrity.

Let me walk you through two such hosts of talk/ chat shows who have acquired celebrity status and have become newsmakers themselves. They have been around for a good number of years and have created an impression on the audience for their ability to push their guests to the edge – of sanity, emotions or just foul temper.

Tim Sebastian, who is essentially the Alsatian of BBC, massacres the person in front of him (calling his ‘guests’ so would be so irrelevant!). Be it harrying George Michael about his tryst with Iraq or interrogation of Mikhail Gorbachev in Russian about Putin, Sebastian has always made his guests eat more than their words! But why is he part of this story? That’s because –
* He is the only one to interview political leaders who are unreachable by speaking languages that most of the interviewers are unfamiliar with. Russian and German or even Arabic – whether he understands or not, Sebastian succeeds in transcending all language barriers.
* He bullies his invitees and when they raise objection, convinces them that all he was trying was get to the root of the facts, so well that the beleaguered interviewees change their statements!
* He created a new phrase that’s presently doing the rounds – “A tongue is mightier than a sword or pen”.
* No matter how blatantly rude he seems, people remind themselves to watch him repeat and better his technique of delivering blows, while the people who sit across him fumble in various ways giving in to bloopers after bloopers.
* His videos make all moot court debating lessons seem lame.

To the other end of the hemisphere is the lady in white on the Indian telly who is the self proclaimed counselor of the high fliers – in-power politicians, influential diplomats, billionaire business heads and successful and still in vogue film personalities – Simi Garewal. That she has not chosen a colored ensemble for her chat show save white till now, is well known. But what makes her tick is her unique voice (she has sung the title track for her show!), which is deep and soft (she attempts to make it as wispy as possible for the right moments) and many times irritatingly sweet. She still attracts attention of the media because:
* She has the ability to get the mightiest of the mighty politicians sing their heart out and turn teary eyed at her words.
* She is probably the only one who tries to dig the emotions of her guests, when they inherit a big empire (Sample this - “Being the heir of million dollar empire must have been pressurizing”)
* Nobody recollects life’s misgivings like her! (To a 30 year old successful actor - “There was a time during your childhood, when you had problems with stammering … that must have been hard for a tender soul of 8 years”)
* There is no other person who says “Why?” the way she does, in almost all her shows (At the risk of sounding like a propaganda - you have to watch her to believe it!)
* She manages to be in news not just for the lack of variety in her wardrobe, designers and look but oodles of honey coated sentences.

No matter how brutally rude or excruciatingly diabetic a talk show host may be, the fact remains that if there was no unique trait in them, it would make news viewing monotonous. So enjoy the barks and subtle intonations while they last!

October 15, 2007

Eulogy of Babble Talkman

I have always been inspired by the mass media. But many times, this has also prompted extreme reactions. I am quite sure I am not the only one to be influenced so.

This is a fictional piece of musing that has nothing to do with any particular person.
__________________________________________________



Eulogy of Babble Talkman
(Feb 15, 2006)

“Relatives, friends, foes and undecideds:

We lost Babble Talkman a few days ago and yet, it feels like it was only seconds before he last shouted ‘Whatta shot!’ Truly, time flies.

It feels like only yesterday when Babble had come to the TV station for a screen test for becoming yet another anchor on the *MKM!# (Myuzeec Kills Me) channel. His chatter was the bread for all those nasty portals, though I’m sure there were many takers. Being a school drop out, he had a commendable command over his wardrobe. From patch work denim, he moved to trouser strips. Fashionistas still remember his dress sense during his afternoon show – “*MKM!# - Don’t yaw siesta”. Something that will never be forgotten by anyone who watched *MKM!# was the classic boat necked trouser shirt with hieroglyphics on pyramids. It is another thing that the Egyptian mumbo-jumbo he wore had put poor Babble in prison for two nights for defaming the pyramid country.

But as they say, all happens for the good. On Friendship Day, he met the knockout wrestler turned actor ‘The Crab’. It was as if they were destined to meet on that day. I remember Babble telling me that after a good chat, The Crab promised him a post in his action choreography production company. Once on to hosting big matches, Babble carved a niche for himself in the country. The numbers stand evidence that he was not for the masses but classes.

During one of his matches he was introduced to the very beautiful Screechy Candy, whom he married after the two hour match! This showed his decisiveness. Another proof was his divorce from Candy after 2 days. Babble showed amazing hold over himself while he addressed the press too. Managing stars loved by many women can get tedious. But Babble handled it all, mostly by his knack of keeping the conversation going and going till the other person tired out. Very few people have this ability and Babble’s skillful talking was soon noticed by the coach of the Football League. He was appointed as the commentator in the Premier Kickon League.

Babble had certain beliefs that were built during his lifetime some of them challenging enough for others to fathom. There were allegations that Babble Talkman had gotten into drugs, which was unkind of anybody to say so. I hope God gave them a broader mind to understand that Babble was not a sportsman and so, was not cheating anyone! He found a great mate in ace footballer Mar-juan Cocclain to help him recover from depression. Babble was a wonderful friend and he very kindly advised Mar-juan to visit the friendly neighborhood rehab doctor who helped him get through depression unhurt. But fate was cruel to take away his friend very soon.

But he soon found love again, this time in his last wife – Nancy Nex-deur. Being a connoisseur of good food, he had spoken in his unstoppable inimitable style about Nancy who had served him the best macaroni. Their life created a milestone in the institution of marriage. I can proudly say that Babble never let Nancy speak more words than him. Though Nancy and Babble may have disagreed on certain occasions, Babble was man of words and could match Nancy utensil throws. I remember him jocularly telling me that Nancy should have been in a baseball team than a restaurant. Wait, I guess he was serious, after all!

Nancy has been a picture of dignity even in the event of Babble’s death. Despite being told that Babble was killed by a TV viewer who was not fortunate enough to understand his intellectual opinions, she has taken the news with a smile, even laughter sometimes. But this only shows how a woman of poise behaves at the loss of a gem of a person.

Babble Talkman. A speaker with his own mind, who called a spade whatever he wished, an ever advising husband and father to many. His loss is replaceable. As he always included a quote in his commentary, here’s one from William Blake – “Every mortal loss is an immortal gain”. I am sure many would agree when I say that in Babble’s case it was a mortal gain as his memories make him look stronger than he could ever be.

May God bless the world, which is suddenly waking to other sounds in his absence.”

Now, all I’ve to do is wait and hold my faith that the judgmental, opinionated, in-my-face nonstop nonsense spouter kicks the bucket and I get to read this piece, in definite peace.

October 08, 2007

Green Rush

Being born in a family that moved very often gives one the luxury of exploring the beauty of the place and those nearby. On one such occasion, I was blessed to visit this unexplored town called Valparai. Lying on the border of Tamil Nadu, which is in the Southern part of India, this heaven of sylvan setting seemed to me, my Paradise Found!



Here's my tribute to a heaven called Valparai.










Green Rush

(July 2, 2007. ed Oct 8'07)



Away from swarms of relentless metrozens,

Like a Zorro, hiding in altitudes high,

I knew I’d found a cluster of heavens,

When my eyes caught sight of Valparai.

Unknown from acquaintance lays the hamlet

Like a boy in a game of catch,

There is no known precedent

To seemingly ubiquitous green rush.

Soakin’ in the spectacular marvel of the setting

I felt like being born for the first time!

The wonderment left me numb

Could hear a merry rustle and many a jolly song

Running through long green tea beds

As if there was no tomorrow,

Don’t recall cautioning about banal skids.

A thought arose - Is this salvation to many a woe?

Next morn, I awoke to Whistling schoolboy's sweet twitter

Glistening dewdrops shone like diamonds, my, my;

I reckoned heaven is now, it is here.

At the green rush called Valparai.


September 26, 2007

Metro Madness

Much has been written, discussed, debated, praised and shredded about India. Indian nationals, who have been ‘patriotic’ to their “motherland”, have expressed their views more frequently than the appearance of a turban in Jaisalmer. Be it about how rich the nation is with its cultural heritage, religious diversities and patriots; or the rising behemoth of an economy, intellectual capital and the innumerable hands that build IT parks all over the metros. One metro that gets inevitably featured in such contexts is Bombay… sorry, Mumbai… let’s call it Bombay… no, it is now Mumbai… whatever!

The map of Mumbai looks like a fossilized snake from the Mesozoic Age. Despite various demerits, the city attracts people in drones in the same way it multiplies the number of slum dwellers, diseases and street side hawkers.

The past few days for a Mumbai dweller have been action-packed. Even plump housewives and their pot bellied husbands have been literally half mooned by an invisible force of the city to get their lazy bones, on the verge of osteoporosis, out of their warm couches. The city has been swept away in a deluge of celebrations. Fortunately, this time around rain has no part in it!

Ganesh Utsav heralds and celebrates the benevolence and grandeur of the elephant headed God. In Mumbai, the festivities celebrated for over 2 weeks resemble a fête with a string of drums played to successfully damage ear drums of human beings up to 10 miles. Those who play them, of course, do not fall under this category.


What would a procession be without explosive lighting equipment? My answer- a normal one. But the city apparently differs with me as I happened to encounter an idol illuminated by 10 suns. Or so it seemed for a small crowd that had temporarily spared themselves the gift of blindness by shutting their eyes as tight as Catwoman’s leather outfit. Participants, organizers and the crowd gathered have this compulsive need to prove that culture is not being eroded in the midst of all this hoopla. The best way to demonstrate it to all the TV cameras trained on them – spray colors of red, pink and orange in the air, on faces and sometimes on an odd clueless tourist with a digital camera. That the tourist will have to buy a new camera is totally irrelevant, though. Crackers, group of people dancing in trance or under influence, form yet another aspect of this spectacle.

A 15 day religious carnival of sorts comes to an end with the idol immersion in the sea, rivulet or even a large rain-water collected pond- depending on the size of the idol. Nobody really bothers about the day after. The municipal corporation which is mostly visible on such days turns up in huge vans to clear roads, alleys and beaches. As for the political sponsors, who have a field day at garnering awe and exposure find it most convenient to leave it to the cleaners or just harsh weather to clear their banners that hang from post to post. They seem to strictly believe in division of labor and specialization!

All the above would have been just fine had it been yet another uneventful year. But India also spins into frenzy whenever there is talk of a game adopted from the colonial times – Cricket. Such excitement is, therefore, completely unexpected when the team, which has been out of form since a very long time, loses and returns home. Effigies are burnt, roads are blocked for a day, and some underperformers’ houses are either pelted or blackened to mourn the loss without much pomp.

Now what happens when such a team goes to a new format World Cup and wins the Championship Trophy during the very same week as the Ganesh Utsav? For starters, offices close early, people find time from religion, stock market and household banter and honor sports channels giving high TRPs for re-runs of the same match. Channels start recruiting more people to cover both events and the Programming Executive spends sleepless nights on prioritizing the two events! Crackers bought for the festival are burst to serve dual purpose and processions to celebrate both the events get inflated by the participants’ heads. The stock market soars to all time highs while speculators keep figuring what next.

For the otherwise crowded streets of this metro, double barreled events bring with them more substance, content, coverage, noise and many more traffic jams. People swing from street to street hoping for more reasons to rationalize the purpose and find company for such insanity. I call it the Mumbai metro madness.

(September 26, 2007)




Speakers Unplugged!

Human beings are the most amazing creation. Homo Sapiens have been endowed with a beautiful anatomy, gorgeous eyes, values of being honest, loyal, sincere, and truthful; and a mind, which helps them believe so. Most of all, I believe it’s the power of speech, that separates us from the others. We have the power to speak with intonations and languages that even domestic cockroaches have mastered (on second thoughts, are there any wild ones left?).

The human talk, for better or worse, has now got a wider reach. With dozens of University backed Professors, Techies and Management teachers; the astrology quacks of India are planning to go on an indefinite strike against such monopoly. It is rumored that Bill Gates is being roped in as a consultant for Disaster Management.

But there is no need for these astro-men to panic. The fact is that these ‘Speech Gurus’ have some unique techniques while speaking that the ever sealed-to-ground sadhus can never master.

Many speakers for some reason try to get personal through their talk. They make it a point to get a reassurance from the audience by saying, “You know…” No, I don’t! On one occasion, the speaker went on to explain concepts of e-governance, which at that point was a rather new topic for the young audience. Every now and then, in the middle of the sentence, he let the talk hang loose by saying, “E-governance is very important for any company to adopt, you know…” Well yes, the turkey on your head flew over and told me so. Mercy! Some speakers don’t let go of this indispensable phrase even during Q&A session. A person from the audience asks you for clarifications and the last thing he expects is to be told, “O yes, you know …” God save!

Another habit that puts the audience in discomfort, is the unnecessary use of conjunctions. The ‘And’ factor. Brevity is the soul of humor and good talk. But some people just don’t get it. When a person starts speaking with all might on the subject and explains the concepts as nobody does and is frequently hit by “You know…” obsession and further has no consideration for the audience who by now are sick and tired of listening and desperately want a break that may save their life from the clutches of unending conjunctions, you may be left with just two options – kill the speaker (mostly visualized in your mind) or sue him for the trauma caused by a sentence! Phew!

Many speeches are cases of classic bloopers. Either the speaker forgets where he/ she started or the paper from which it was read out flies away by a gust of unwanted breeze. Those who are inadept in covering up the slip, resort to the forefathers’ language of monosyllables. The ‘Ah-s’ and ‘Uhm-s’ come in handy and sometimes are stretched far beyond the threshold of endurance. The cleverer lot understand the side effects of such sounds and use convenient words like “to explain briefly” and “without getting deep” more often than the coups in Africa. If the blooper happens during a group discussion, there’s no stopping the speaker who goes on and on saying “as my friend said”. Recently in a webinar that I attended, this fixation proved to be a savior to the COO of a large BPO company. The ‘friend’ in question was a PR consultant who spoke flawlessly. Is this what it means when they say, “What are friends for!”

Speakers who extensively use colorful presentations sure attract many people as audience. But many suffer from what I call the “Presenter-Presentation Mismatch”. The audience waits for the speaker to explain the slide but either he hates the slide or is under the trance of a blooper and is trying hard to cover it up. If it is neither, then it’s just that, a mismatch.

There are some others who are masters, at feigning. In a surge to create an indelible impression, they speak in some bizarre accent. Either it is foreign education gone bad or excessive influence of sitcom stars that make the speech sound like a hotchpotch spout! Others, who for some reasons cannot put on an accent (thank god for that!), try using statistics and jargons or spew vocabulary. This is either to intimidate the audience to the degree that they don’t ask any questions or to divert their minds from the actual subject. Malcolm Forbes had once said – “It’s more fun to arrive at a conclusion than to justify it”. These presenters seem to have taken the quote a bit too seriously! So, if someone is speaking about the epistemology related to the GDT techniques, which have been expediently implemented to gain the HHI advantage in a foreign market, don’t panic if you are lost. The speaker is verbally challenged to speak about the nature of a manufacturing communications technique, which can be used to gain a better market concentration, in simple terms. And in most cases, the speaker is also as lost as his audience!

To conclude briefly, it is said that 90% of the statistics are made-up on the spot. So if you have found my critique rather humdrum, you may keep your ferocity to self and post approbation about the erudition soon. (Send me your bouquets and spare yourself the thought of brickbats!)
(June 15, 2005)



September 25, 2007

Stereotypically Yours!

The other day I heard my mother complain about how she had not yet received some of the snail mails that were supposed to have been sent by “Speed Post”! She went on to launch a tirade against the Postal Department. Now how often have I heard it? Many times and it isn’t just my mother who gets into this offensive mood. In fact, come to think of it, we have umpteen things that are oft repeated and sometimes pigeonholed, without leaving any scope for change. Be it social or political, related and unrelated, we seem to take potshots at people and phenomena, bringing me to jabber about a sociological concept – Stereotypes.

Politics does not seem to be anybody’s cup of tea, coffee or anything potable. Still, at least once a day, I hear people declare the representatives of state they elected corrupt. It is virtually like a synonym or a tag that comes with a package. Politician A is corrupt. If B is a politician he is corrupt. If he is corrupt, he must surely have some links with politics or politicians. No, I am not having a revisit from my school days on logical deductions but that’s the way people seem to be talking in real life. But not once have we heard any straitlaced chap stand up and say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I proclaim myself corrupt”. Despite all attempts a politician makes to portray himself and his party as the cleanest and corruption disinfected, nobody seems to be listening. If anything, the one-liners of the Jay Lenos and the John Stewarts get more fodder and sound more comical to the audience, which is ever ready to lap up more on the matter.

But let’s not get politician bashing. There are other things to clobber. Traditionally, one tends to maintain a not-so-friendly relationship with his/ her boss. The reasons are as vague as the typecast affair itself. Almost everyday, I receive at least one email forwarded by a distraught junior who seemingly is bloodthirsty and would do anything to defame his boss, mostly a Project Manager. Even in daily life, there are innumerable times you come across a person who feels he can do a better job than his boss and should probably be getting the latter’s salary too! Also, the BOSS is seen as a villain who derives sadistic pleasure from dumping more work to his junior.

Celebrities are also popular picks among people who love to stereotype them. Whenever a celebrity falls sick or meets with an accident (though it might be a raging bull which wanted to humor itself for a while) and is caught on camera, how often have you said or heard people say, “Yeah, right! All for publicity”. No matter how convincingly a popular party animal says “No comments” on anything that is alleged, in the public eye, he/ she already starts looking like there is a striking resemblance with a stowaway on “COPS”.

Forget about the high-fliers and seniors. Even the people we deal with in our day-to-day lives are also either of this category or that segment! Relatives are just one jealous lot and doctors and lawyers were created as the human form of leeches! Husbands / wives / long-time partners are boring or have changed over time to droning creatures. Come to think of it, I could pen a poem out of the entire situation.

Daily I come across at least one kind of stereotype,
What can I say, some are wrong, some right

My kids are the most beautiful and intelligent of the lot,
Don’t the other kids look like a bunch of ocelots!

At my office, I work the hardest- I'm the best
While my carpool partner scalps the cream though he rests

Whoever made women at work so gentle?
All they best do is freak out and get emotional!

Whoever made guys so thick-skinned?
Make them a shrink and you’ll have a psycho successfully killed!

Africa and Asia are full of naked, poor, hungry kids
Refer NatGeo and Discovery acts

I could keep singing such limericks for hours
But for now, I sign off – Stereotypically yours!

(November 8, 2005)


September 09, 2007

Ithaca Stolen


This is one of my latest poems. I have been deeply pained by many events that are happening around me... Morning newspapers have news filled with negativity. I usually search hard to find the brighter side, but usually end up feeling frustrated. Television soaps have long episodes filled with grim situations. It's almost like happiness has been stolen from life, sapped out from the system. Here's my take on it.

Ithaca Stolen

An insolent mind finds surprises,
In occasional smiles, pleasant faces.
Pierces the heart, chortles of lads.
Guffaws at wretched tales.

Innocence colored, where ignorance once reigned.
Dimensions blurred injuries inflicted.
Meandering is the dark rebirth inside,
Eyes look away from the sunny side.

In, a dim flame flickers.
Eyebrows crease, pupil narrows
A harrowed life forgets fragments
Of my glorious Ithaca stolen.

An Eden of joy, of a life fruitful
Now an abyss of hazy routine, so futile.
Rising from a crestfallen psyché, eyelids strain
Wonder if the foolish reprisal had any gain?

Disowning present state, haggling with a truant mind,
To victory that never was, Ithaca- will I ever find?

________________________________________

I truly hope the situation improves for the world over. I hope everybody finds their stolen Ithaca.




September 05, 2007

What happened to Teacher's Day?


Today is 5th September. So, it is yet another day on the calendar. I am quite definite many think so, or at least have begun thinking in this way. September 5 is celebrated in India as 'Teacher's Day'. Observed after the birthday of India's second President - Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, it used to be the day when schools celebrated this amazing individual called 'Teacher'.

Students on their part put up shows to entertain those whom they held in high esteem and even aped them sometimes, for they believed that someday they would turn out to be half as good as them. We wrote songs, sang them out aloud, danced and entertained and made sure that the day was a memorable one for our teachers.

The teachers on their part were equally participative. I remember my convent school in Belgaum where all teachers had turned up as students and put up a fantastic show. How could it not be funny when the Head Sister, who was the principal of the school, turned out in pinafore with plaits! We students had only seen her grumpy face and hid every time somebody whispered "Hide! Sister Rose is here!"

Times changed and schools soon became colleges. Teachers became "way too complicated" or "extremely strict" or just "boring". I am not trying to act saintly here. I have been part of the junta which said all these and more! Those few who felt that 'a' particular teacher was good was promptly termed 'nerd' or 'dork' or just too uncool to hang out with! Means for entertainment turned to freak outs, parties, rock concerts. Time flew past soon and in the exodus September 5 was forgotten too soon.

Employment, family and deadlines hardly allow time for oneself, let alone someone out of the close circuit. And today, when all of a sudden some unknown number flashed on my cell phone, it did not take a minute for me to cut the call. The reason was not a meeting but just the wish of not adding more fuel to an already high tension day of work. On an instinct, I called the number to find that it was a dear teacher, whose number I had lost somewhere in the passage of time. The lady was gracious enough to let my blunder go unnoticed. But it did stir my inner soul to take stock of things that were left behind somewhere in the many milestones of life.

Here's to all the teachers!



August 27, 2007

When it rains...

Rains have come to be synonymous with Mumbai's different phases of climate. Having been in the city for more than 3 years, I have come to understand that whether you love it or not, rains steer your life and determine your fashion!

July 26, 2005 was a black day in many of the city dwellers' lives. It was the day when I experienced the power of nature and understood in a very eery, calamitous way; how things could go topsy turvy without prior notice. Being one of the eye-witnesses, as someone put it, I could not help but write about this event (the very next day), probably one of the most compelling ones in my life thus far.

When it rains
(July 27, 2005)

Till a few days, I was quite ignorant of many things. Incurring the fury of Gods, the connotation of “Water, water everywhere… Not a drop to drink” and what people kept mumbling now and then about the undying resilience of Mumbayites.

Being in Mumbai for more than a year had only meant to be in a fast-paced city, metro glam-meets-retro slum, opportunities, fast food and a near Tsunami of people, everywhere. But on the evening of 26th July 2005, I naturally changed my thoughts to other factors, which manifested themselves in the face of many residents. Presenting to you, a real life drama where the parody was played on me, for a change.

On this particular rainy day, with loads of work still to be completed (writing to the column was in the heap too, as I had been suffering from a hopeless writers’ block, stop and cork!), on advice from many, I started my journey back home with a deficient windcheater (sometimes I listen to my over-inflated ego which had told me that day not to carry an umbrella, despite the drizzling). Once out of the gate, I was about to do a reverse flip to the office, looking at the water level, which was knee-length (I would not dare take my beautiful leather shoes and the neat fit trousers into dirty waters!). But I happened to see people in their blazers and ties do it and moreover, I did not want to look like I couldn’t do it. So I went ahead and waded through running water with rain lashing at us. Now it would not have been such a big thing had I been confident of swimming, just in case. And the case appeared, just as the gate seemed more and beckoning. With no big walker on tight rope, my foot did not touch the ground and lo and behold! I went under water trying to remember what the basic lessons would be. Finally, two angels, or were they three, pulled me up and I felt myself with foot firmly planted on ground for sometime. I finally reached my four-wheeler and felt like I had completed the biggest battle of all. Or so I thought.

As the car pulled on to the nearest flyover, a big traffic jam awaited us. Though jams are not uncommon here, this took a longer time for me – 5 hours. I thought MT (medical transcription) was so much better! After 5 hours looking at the relentless rain and desperate people, I decided to get out of the stationary automobile and take stock of the situation. Now here’s where the mind took over my now hibernating ego. With a partner, I took off to what I thought would be a short walk and then get some public transport (Somewhere, I thought, they would definitely be there!). Of course, we could not walk the actual distance of 10 kms. But here lay the biggest parody.

From one lake after another, one water clog leading to another, millions of people with umbrellas, jackets or nothing to fight the rain walked on and on like zombies. We just happened to be one of those who walked in the dark (thank god, there was no electricity or we would have had the taste of an electric shock too!).

But, though there were no lights and the way was not like “roses roses all the way” and people were apparently starved and thirsty, our compatriots were noble enough to lead us at places. Where there are stones and open drains; and which way had what water level. Many even found time to joke about the complete “system” thing and how it sucks. Some even made catcalls at females walkers. I was, of course in an unrecognizable costume (the hood of the windcheater made me look funny) and was trying hard to keep my balance! Some of the restaurants had kept the shop open at midnight to serve drinking water to people who were stuck without any hope and those who were trying to find some.

When I finally reached home I was more enlightened about how it feels when the wrath of Gods comes pouring on you. You may consider yourself lucky to be in the position that you are in, but what awaits one is something the MET Department can only claim after the damage is done. The havoc caused is immeasurable and the grief, inconsolable.

My walk is of very little significance when compared to the magnitude of damage inflicted on life and property. But if there was one thing that kept a person like me walking for 10 kms, in waist-deep water, it was the spirit of the people who walked along, guiding all the way. I am now confident to take on any trek, even when there are floods! Reaching the destination at 4 in the morning is no longer an issue, either!


August 16, 2007

Bizar‘re-search’!

There are times in your life when you regret something, but still feel helplessly addicted to them. I have felt so more often than once about my undying love for the most aromatic beverage of all – coffee (decaf doesn’t work for me). Being a southie, may be I can conveniently blame it on the environment. Caffeine, a major ingredient in coffee has been certified carcinogenic (causing cancer) by many studies. But for people who belong to my tribe, there was a good old study, which mentioned that it is good for memory. Well, I don’t remember the source, but I sure had read it with great interest. Why coffee, there have been so many studies about every small single thing in a homo sapien’s life. Welcome to the world of species surveys and studies by odd minds!

Of late, researchers or for better understanding pseudo analysts have been publishing bizarre findings about pointless subjects. What needs to be lauded here is the fact that many of these make their way to news portals which people stay hooked on for ‘quality’ stuff! A recent report declared a warning signal in all states of America except the Oregon. Reason? Americans are getting fatter elsewhere. The only possible positive implication of this study may be to guide those agencies that want to headhunt models to head to Oregon because sooner or later those from the other states would turn obese! If the pseuds network well, they may get Oprah to sponsor their study in her Primetime show!

There was this other study that seemed to be reincarnation Darwin’s thesis, lost in evolution! The recently published study said, believe it or not, kids learn eating and exercise habits from parents! Now, this study would be a groundbreaking one, had it been published centuries ago. How an agency like Reuters could publish a century old, tested and proven fundamental law of nature as a fresh, never-seen-before study is a big question mark to me.

Many other question marks keep occurring during the process of skimming through the studies done by such pseudo analysts. A recent one that I read takes the cake and cherry too! It says that Britons are more likely to commit suicide on Monday than any other day of the week. This is something many of us may relate to – those who suffer terrible Monday blues. But the pseudo analysts, apparently, did not find the need to spell out the possible application of the study. They sure have succeeded in keeping the Britons on their toes, on Mondays!

Still, by not including the rest of the countries, we may suggest a study to be conducted on how discriminated one feels about this study. I am quite sure some mean agency would publish our results and get great hits!

Research or no research, life goes on and people do not seem very perturbed by them. Of course, those who find certain studies convenient do not stop quoting them at various occasions. Sooner or later there is bound to be some other that would come up as a counter research and totally rubbish the previous ones. While the research parties clamor for authenticity, the agencies laugh their way to the bank. The knack of making the outlandish fascinating is all it takes to make zilch, ingenious.

ET-mology

Amongst the random musings which I document in my company platform, here's a leaf out of the many I've written.

ET-mology

It has definitely been an overdose of Dan Brown and thanks to him I now know about pre-medieval secret societies, kings and their religious strategies, conspiracies of space scientists and so on. And all these described till the core (pun unintended).

As one gets carried away with the gale of Brown’s way of digging for more details, the first thing that strikes about his writing is language. The how and what of words and source of all that’s underlying in a language has not been widely discussed.

"Not only does the English Language borrow words from other languages, it sometimes chases them down dark alleys, hits them over the head, and goes through their pockets"

Eddy Peters knew one thing about language when he said this. The Etymology. By showing the word as “Not Found”, the Thesaurus of MS Word may make a writer feel like she is a Martian. Etymology is the study of the sources and development of words. As I am typing this definition, there are some stares from my neighbor who finds the topic anything but interesting. Tell me about environmental motivation!

Still, either because of my cross-academic (I wonder if Shakespeare would be proud of this innovation or turning in his grave though Bill Gates, or is it Sir Gates now, does not seem to have a problem with that) background or the language bug that never seems to leave, etymology it is, indeed.

English derives most of its words from other languages – Greek, Latin, French, Danish, Russian, German, etc.; and some of the cross-cultural dialects like Oriental English, Anglo-French and the like. Though the obsolete meaning is not of major concern now, it is funny to find out what they meant and how in the course of time, connotations changed and words were either made short, long or rearranged to suit the style. The next time the reader uses the word “babe” for his lady or somebody to be one, be informed that babe comes from Russian “Babushka” which means “grandmother”! It is also used for “peasant woman”. Make sure your partner has no clue about the Russian word or you may end up getting good “bacteria” on your head! I am not referring to the microbe. The word actually comes from the Greek “bakterion” meaning a “Staff or rod”. Not good news there, if she is an etymology raker!
While we are still on blows, it is advised in general interest to stay alert when someone who one loves to detest, speaks of “dabbing”. If taken in the 1307 AD meaning, someone means mean business of “heavy blow with a weapon”. If it is not possible to “fathom”, the Oriental English meaning- “arms/ grasp”, will do the job. You may throw your hands up on this and dash for a Vitamin – “Keratin” shot. But let me enlighten you, again, that keratin used to mean the “basic substance of horns, nails, feathers”.

There must have been an overdose of blows to some by now. So, lets talk about something light-hearted like fashion. “Fad” is one of the important indicators. Models help in communication of such things. It may be a coincidence, but “fad” in Latin, once meant something “nonsense” or “stupid”. But some people attempt “hardly” to make a fad. By “hardly”, I mean in a “hard manner, with energy and force”, if we go by the 1205 AD definition.

Society has also seen various changes. This one is dedicated to those who constantly crib about investments and tax planning. To have an “insurance” in 1553 AD would mean to be “engaged to marry”. In a party, if you tried bragging about the “jade” you owned, think again as it also meant “worn-out horse”.

There have been various writers who have contributed many new words to daily lingo, which were hitherto unheard of. In the recent times the ‘Harry Potter’ series introduced many such words, a popular one being “muggle”. But according to 1926 New Orleans, it is “marijuana joint”. Now, whether it is related to magic or black magic, Maradonna should know better! Another name in the fantasy book, that of an owl – “Hedwig”, which meant “strife / struggle” in German, is far from anything snowy or pet-worthy.

For a vacation, if you were planning to “go south”, wait for the etymology to dawn on you. The word actually meant to “vanish or abscond” according to 1920s American English. But in haste if one tries to escape by hiring the “go-cart”, keep in mind that it was once “a litter, sedan chair”.

If you have not got enough of my “jest”, which in 1300 AD meant “narrative of exploits”; here is a bag of words with corresponding etymological meanings, which may be used with care and restraint on language –

§ AC/DC – bisexual
§ Buffet – blow
§ Email – a type of pottery design
§ Eskimo – eaters of raw meat
§ Excursion – a deviation in argument
§ Kennedy – an ugly head (whoever said that!)
§ Kicksie-wicksie – wife
§ Lace – a net, noose, string
§ Mum – abbreviation of chrysanthemum

Acknowledgements:
1. The etymology website – etymonline.com
2. My curious and intrigued colleague


(March 3, 2005)


Summer, rains & childhood

It's nearly mid August and the rains are receding here. After my first post, I wonder what kept me from posting the next. I remember to have read some where that rains generally spread a sense of depression amongst people. It is another thing that I've never really enjoyed them as a season.

My childhood days were spent in Bangalore. At grandparents' house, it was sheer mayhem with all kids being at their naughtiest best! Be it running along the long garden paths that my gran'pa just cleaned, or the loud chattering songs being a nuisance to them. Somehow, it never occured to us, the brat pack, that it was mostly anger inducing. To make matters worse for the elders, every scolding urged us to look for more ways of mischief!

Outdoor games were a rage with the young crowd. Be it cricket on an inclined road (which on retrospect was quite dangerous) or badminton in breezy evenings, or even just throwball during hot afternoons. And after it was dark enough to make it completely impossible for us to spot the ball or the shuttle cock, we looked heavenwards as there lay a terrace. It was spacious enough with little light bulbs here and there for helping visibility. Then used to begin all kinds of contact sports! Catch, lock and key, crocodile colors, and what not. I do not remember even a single day when one willingly said, 'Let's call it a day'. We always had to be pulled down by some loud voice of a curt elder.

Bangalore summers were mostly followed by rains. Sometimes, one lost count of how many days it had been since the rains began. They rained heavily, and tapered to a drizzle all in one day. Quite unpredictable it was, just as the English rains- I remember one elder who remarked so. Rains were the biggest spoilers of all plans. Be it shopping for ma and aunts, regular office work for dad and uncles, or for the special eateries gran'ma made that had to be necessarily dried for the best output! We used to be heart broken as along with being a hindrance to outdoors, it also meant long, unscheduled power cuts. No electricity, meaning no television, meaning candle light dinners. And long pauses in conversations!

Since those days, rains have been a constant fellow traveller in my life. I've experienced summers and rains in various parts of the country, but the time spent in Bangalore has been priceless! So is childhood.


July 05, 2007

My First


Good morning!

Ideas keep striking one's mind and thoughts reappear time and again. But if not documented, they remain just that - thoughts. Not to take away any credit from them, but if not documented/ shared / implemented, they serve as yet another element occupying space in one's memory for no reason!

I have always loved writing. Be it my first poem, when I was a child, or the first story I ever wrote, they have all been extremely important to me, besides having a great impact over my career options, later.

Having loved the writings of many, I always pined for having my thoughts put up on a platform for a wider audience. My first thought was to have my diary of poems published. As I got older, they seemed more and more childish and by then, the interest to go 'public' had diminished considerably.

I don't want time to age my spirit anymore! So, here I go... Hope to keep posting many more fragments of life.

Love,
Di