The largest democracy in the world has a new government in place, albeit one that seems set to be self propelled through the next five years
The exit polls had predicted a close game between the NDA and the UPA. The NDTV exit poll however seemed to suggest a slightly wider majority for the UPA. As one who has been groomed to support the Congress through life, I chose to accept this verdict and through the next day, parked myself in front of www.ndtv.com, watching the results unfold.
And what a win it was…from 216 to 242 to 256 to 261…a clear mandate handed over to an incumbent government.
Personally, as a minority and bred in the city, I could never think of voting for the BJP. Over the years their treatment of hindutva has only caused fear and made me unsure of my right to leading the life of an Indian national . Modi’s development at the cost of the riots is no development at all. The incidents in Orissa,Bangalore, Mangalore, Varun’s hate speech all add up to one logical conclusion: They dont deserve to be in power
L.K Advani’s face was splashed all over the media. Obama type campaigns were run all across the internet to the point they started interfering. People wanted answers not propaganda, people wanted conversations not faces staring out of screens through Google adwords.The Twitter and blogging campaigns were full of propaganda ” We did this and that and…”As it is, with only 5% of the population online and with a significant proportion of the lot not voting, the internet campaign did not make sense in the first place.
L.K Advani was projected to be the face of change. A lifetime of his politics couldnt change the country and he expects to do it now. I would much rather go with the younger faces of the UPA who define change as giving empowerment and employment to the poor, as changing the very way in which the country is governed. I would much rather go with a prime minister who understands the health of the country and has the experience of nursing it back to health. I would much rather go with a prime minister who performs rather than challenge others to mindless debates!!
With the likes of SP, RJD and the BSP safely out of the picture its “Jai ho” for positive change and for a better India
It’s been a month since I ever attempted to feed my blog. In a self imposed exile of sorts, I decided to do away with the privilege of being ‘always connected’ for a month. The experience has left me saner and in control of a habit that was threatening to drive my very being.
A host of factors contributed to me being off the net all this while. While office errands were chewing their way right into valuable personal time at home, my reliable Dell Inspiron was also slowly succumbing to the pressure of exploitation. It’s hard disk soon crashed, never to recover again. Currently, it lies by the side of the study table, usually in service as an arm rest.
My impatience, as the new Airtel 16 mbps ad suggests, was seeing me spend hours at home on the web, idly signing in and out of my mailbox, sifting through an umpteen social sites and mulling in deep thought as to why some clients behave the way they do.
And so with the hard disk crashing, the net connection was also done away with, leaving me at the mercy of books and family and friends to go out with. Not having a tv only accentuated the situation, giving me even more time.I started looking for chores to do around the house and soon felt some responsibilities sinking in.
A day for me has many more fuller elements to it now. It involves 8 hours of sleep, Fuller and healthier meals and a lot of time to read and explore
I now realize the wisdom of our elders in maintaining that balance. It is important : to live your life but not to abuse it.
Impatience is not my new life!!
13 years in a boys school (St. Columba’s, New Delhi) is like watching an action packed thriller movie. Girls, stunts, villains, heroes…its all there. Memories of events in school are so deeply embedded that ,even now, it is easy to recall stories 9-22 years old. One such event happened in class 9 and involved a certain character by the name of Francis Pattom.
Francis Pattom was one of my good friends throughout class 8 and 9 and were probably the only Sagittarians who became good pals as well.
Francis, as any other class 9-C student, was expected to be naughty and constantly on the lookout for pranks to play on others. It was one of such episodes that led to him having a strong Congress imprint across both his cheeks.
It was the Hindi period and Mrs. Kumari (name changed to protect myself) was, as usual, in her asthmatic demeanor, trying to teach us a lesson in literature. A short and fat lady with hyperactive sweat glands, Mrs. Kumari epitomized the teacher, who, given a choice, would rather stay at home, sleep and watch saas bahu serials through the day.
Francis, like most of us, was bored and with his hand on his chin was pondering on how he could manage to survive the 45 minutes class. As Francis glanced towards the floor, his eyes weary, he suddenly saw an object that could entertain him and his friends for the rest of the period. The object: A rubber band, large and oval, with the potential to sting and cause pain.
Francis picked up the rubber band and started stretching it, sometimes towards me (on his left) and sometimes towards Joshua (on his right). The apparent fear on our faces was thrilling enough for him to continue threatening us over the next 10 minutes.
Thrill coupled with foolishness constantly motivates you to surge ahead and his next move was to point the sling at Mrs Kumari, while we giggled and challenged him to release it. Francis was enjoying the attention…”Chodd doon?…Chodd doon?” he would ask to which we would respond ” Abey ja na..kya choddega…fattoo”.
In one such exchange of dialogues, Francis, with his head turned towards me and the band pointed towards Mrs Kumari, accidently released the potent missile.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah”, Mrs Kumari shouted in pain”Ye kiski battameezee hai?” The class: deathly silent. “Kaun tha jisne yeh harkat ki?” No answers.
Francis, meanwhile, was being mauled down by his conscience and the fear that someone might take his name. He decided the best course of action was to surrender. Slowly, Francis stood up…”Yeh tumne fainka tha?” Mrs Kumari asked. “Yes ma’am par galti se” Francis replied. “Tum idhar aao” Mrs Kumari ordered Francis as she felt her red forehead, the target of the rubber band.
Francis slowly made his way to the podium while the class looked on. The usual suspects were shocked at the audacity of the attack while some of us still giggled silently at the turn of events.
“Sorr”….Phataach…the first slap right across Francis’ cheek reverberated across the class room. “But ma’am”…Phataach…this one seemed louder than the previous one. phataach phataach phataach…5 slaps in all. Even the naughtiest kid in school wouldn’t have expected such intensity.
Francis was shaken, but he was, after all a boy. As he walked back to his seat with Durga (read Mrs Kumari) glaring from behind, he attempted a faint smile at me. Now visible clearly, both his cheeks held imprints of Mrs Kumari’s overzealous hands.
Clearly conscious of the gallant act he had accidently committed, Francis needed to capitalize on this occassion to establish himself as a hero. As the class ended and Mrs Kumari left, still holding a handkerchief to her forehead, Francis stood up and announced to the class ” Mujhe kuchh nahi hua”, expecting the class to applaud his effort and congratulate him on his ’success’
His attempt was at best, meek, and a second later, all of us were rolling down on the floor in fits of laughter, while Francis resigned to his fate as a fellow classmate
The thought of going back home on the Mumbai Rajdhani invariably fills me with excitement and ebullience like that of a 4 year old when he sees candy. The silent motion coupled with high speed and the few stops this train enjoys sets it apart from any other Rajdhani in the nation. Mumbai to Delhi in flat 16 hours and that too, with convenient timings, makes this an enviable option to the myriad of flights available.
I reached Mumbai Central, the source station an hour and a half before departure by one of the new age locals that seem to be getting a lot of attention these days owing to frequent malfunctions.
At 2:30 in the afternoon,the Mumbai Central platforms bear a bored look, one that is accentuated by the empty platforms, the dead locomotives in the pit lines, the napping railwaymen, a couple of strangely coloured stray dogs and the odd traveler.
The main hall of the station, however, portrays a different picture, with its swanky new Mcdonalds and Rajdhani restaurants, the buzzing mass of people, all conversing animatedly and few railway workers checking, loading and unloading parcels onto carts
I preferred to stay away from the hustle and bustle and found myself comfortably placed on a new steel bench that seemed to have been victimized in some metal bashing session.
A few locomotives kept moving up and down the lines, shunting themselves onto different platforms. The locomotives of Mumbai are unique, in that they run on both AC and DC. These specialized locomotives were created because Mumbai and areas around run on DC while the rest of India runs on AC.
By 3:30 pm a handful of passengers had arrived on the platform. Two gentlemen chose to accompany me on either side of the steel bench. The one to my left kept himself busy over the phone, while the one to my right, obese from all ends kept nudging me for more space. all this when the benches ahead were empty.
In the midst of our fight for space, which seems to be the story of every Indian, we were approached by a eunuch, begging (read demanding) for money.
“De beta, paise la…bhagwan tera bhala karega” (followed by the quintessential kissing sound and the clap). Her sweetness, as in most cases, was shortlived and when she realized that we were hardly paying any attention to her, threw a string of abuses and went on ahead.
In the meanwhile, I was also fed up of the obese gentleman’s quest for space. I finally got up, glaring at the gentleman, who at that point in time, represented a ripened tomato (in his red shirt), all ready to be squashed underfoot.
I moved on to another bench.That the train was going to Delhi was validated by “ auntyji, train ithe hi aayegi, aap kithe jaa rahe ho” ,zebra striped and gaudy sarees and salwars and a couple of surd boys jumping up and down on the platform:Punjabis
The rake of the Mumbai Rajdhani was shunted onto the platform at 4:00 pm and it was a pleasure to see the queen, all washed and jacked up for the journey.
As i watched the rake being shunted in, the same eunuch walked up to me again, delivering the same few lines. I refused again and protested saying that she had come to me earlier as well. Her memory seemed to be in auto mode however and she had no recall whatsoever and after an “uff ohh’ moved on to another bench.
The one disappointment on seeing the Rajdhani rake were the meshed windows, with the words ” There’s a little bit of Sail in everybody’s life” screaming out at you. My disappointment was amplified when I realized, that the usually clear view outside was now marred by the mesh across the window.A genius thought for a marketer, a genuine disappointment for a railfan.
On the train, my neighbours included a couple of young chaps,a Punjabi businessman and two probably bengali ladies.A compartment ahead, sat a group of tough looking policemen with sten guns.
The train left on time and we were soon chugging along, though at top speed, across the Western terrain of India.
The Punjabi businessman sat right opposite me in the side berth. An unobtrusive man, he knew perfectly well to mind his own business. Apart from the open mouthed snores and the constant “Hey Prabhus” , he was the perfect co passenger.
Of the two young chaps, one seemed to be around 17-18 years of age, measly thin, with an army cut. He had an accent that seemed to suggest he had had some exposure abroad.
What made this character intriguing, however, were his phone calls.All his friends seemed to have nicknames assigned which included Baby Goose, Momma Goose, Tiger, Captain etc etc
He would keep referring to Western Commnd and war at this front and that front. His size didn’t seem to suggest any relation to the army, although his fervent talk seemed to suggest deep affiliation to whatever he was involved in. He had, infact come down to Mumbai because there was a lecture by Tiger, meant for the Western Command(??).
The only other plausible reasoning for this lingo was gaming. It was tough for me to comprehend, however, that young guys were travelling across the nation to attend lectures on strategy for a virtual world??
I resigned to Mary Higgins Clark’s “Where are you now?”and most of the evening was spent reading, interspersed with glances here and there and small naps, with my mouth wide open.
Dinner time came and went with the service good and the dinner served hot. I actually didn’t miss the soup and the bread sticks, items which have been discontinued from the Rajdhani menu by the IRCTC, citing enhanced quality focus by restricting themselves to fewer items. Fewer items meant no ice cream as well.
After the stop at Baroda (9:30 pm) ,I climbed into the cosy, side upper berth and in a matter of minutes was lost in dreamland.
Morning was a rude experience. I was jolted out of sleep by a white light beyond the folds of my eyes. I found myself staring at the tube-light on the ceiling. The attendant had switched it on on duty’s call.
Waking up, I realized, to my dismay, that as usual, I had forgotten to bring my toothbrush and paste. Brushing would have to wait but could not afford to allow my mouth to stink. I didn’t have my pack of Happydents as well and was wondering what to do when I remembered the welcome kit (given on the Rajdhani) included a mouth freshener pack as well .
So, within the confines of an Indian style toilet, while the others outside thought I was busy attending to the call of nature and brushing my teeth, I popped the sweetened saunf into my mouth.
Bad idea…The welcome kit included paper soap as well and the the soapy taste of soap and the sweet taste of saunf had combined and culminated in a truly disgusting taste. The mouth smelled fresh, however, even if it smelt of soap.
I got down to eating breakfast, which comprised of tasteless vada and tangy idlis served with a hopeless green chutney. Whatever hopes I had had of the IRCTC delivering to quality were lost with this breakfast. There was no packed juice as well, which had become staple for me in my frequent journeys.
The breakfast was followed by coffee. Instead of the regular Nescafe, they served TaTa Coffee and as a proud South Indian, I must say, this will surely appeal to all who favour roast and ground coffee to the bland Nescafe.
The coffee was invigorating enough to help me finish around 50 pages of “Where are you now?” in a span of half an hour. The train, meanwhile had reached Delhi and was slowly making its way through Hazrat Niammudin, Tilak Bridge, Shivaji Bridge to finally reach New Delhi at 8:36 am, for all practical purpose, on time.
A metro ride later, I was home, treating myself to chapati and Kerala style Chole.
Another succesful trip and another good ride on the 2951 down Mumbai Rajdhani Express
Submitting a resignation is like giving the last exam of the boards. On the other side lies freedom and a few days of self declared ‘deserving’ break from the pain and trauma of the past few months. The road to freedom, however, is never easy and never straight and my case was no exception…
There were 3 of us from the same college who had been placed in Iniquus. Mohit, the 8.0 CGPA class, Saurabh, the 6.0 CGPA class and me, the 5.0 CGPA class. Saurabh and I had been best of friends since school and the trivial difference in our CGPAs ensured that we remained professional pals as well. With Mohit, however, the story was slightly different and he continued to surprise us, all through his stint at Iniquus.
a) Initially Mohit had refused to work for anything under Rs. 12000/-. He finally settled for Rs. 8000/-
b) Mohit rarely fell ill in college. However, at Iniquus, he took a break for 15 days owing to a certain illness
c) Mohit was intelligent and logical and could grasp things quickly. at Iniquus, however, he managed to mess up an entire project he was working on and was forced to redo it again
The above few surprises resulted in complete disillusionment for Mohit. His only chance at salvaging some lost pride was to quit or so he thought.
d)Mohit never took rash decisions. One day, however, through a mail to Sid, he announced his resignation and vanished.
The sequence of surprises were to have a strong bearing on my resignation as well. The immediate consequences of Mohit’s resignation however included
a) Sid calling us ‘You Chumps’ yet again
b) 3-4 sessions on why Mohit had made a foolish decision
c) Sid being angry and agitated on the rest of the staff
d) Us getting scared of Sid and trying to be invisible whenever he passed by
The stress of it all, which included me never being able to understand code, was slowly taking its toll. I could not picture myself building and testing websites for the rest of my life. The MBA bug had also bitten me and the prospect of a better job and a better life slowly extended its influence to the point that I finally took the decision : To Quit
I had meticulously planned the resignation episode. I was to approach Sid and tell him of my decision. He would probably shout at me for a while and then agree, after which I would be free. I had also booked a ticket to Kerala, along with my parents, to savour the well earned break.
Mohit’s terrible exit however played spoilsport and I, in my Sid-o-phobia was too scared to approach him.Sid always referred to Mohit’s resignation as a case to prove that the brightest always had high aspirations which kept them far above the ground while the dumbest ( read Saurabh and me) were grounded from the start anyway.
As the day for departure drew closer, the prospect of seeing and walking through green paddy fields and coconut trees gained precedence over going through the ‘trauma’.
I, however needed to inform Sid and for that, I needed to hatch a well thought of plan and the plan was this:
I was to draft a ‘resignation letter’ and save it in my inbox. I was to take a sick leave till the time I reached Kerala.On the day before I reached Kerala, Saurabh was to use my inbox to send the mail across to Sid. I was so mortally scared of Sid’s anger that I was willing to take no chances on the day I intended to leave for Kerala.
Saurabh, the ever faithful friend did just that: Send the resignation mail out on a friday morning while I was lazing in the Ac 2 tier compartment of the Kerala Express.
The shock waves were intense and immediate. Sid deduced that I couldnt have sent the mail as the train takes 2.5 days to reach Kerala from Delhi, so it could only be a friend who could send the mail, which by obvious choice, was Saurabh.
The consequences of my resignation included:
a) Saurabh being called “You Chump” yet again
b) Saurabh being interrogated for his role in the ‘crime’
c) Saurabh being sympathised with by our colleagues
d)My mail being circulated across the office ( which did win me a few accolades)
The story doesnt end here, however, and the sequence of events that followed still continues to amaze me and respect Sid a lot more…
Update: Saurabh my partner in crime has posted his take on the episode through a comment
I was or maybe I still am a confused personality. One who constantly tries to figure out throughout life as to what is it that interests him. Its tough when you’re a jack of all trades because you can work in all domains but the nagging doubt lingers as to whether you’re meant to do it in the first place.
My first “resignation” letter, as I read it now, clearly displays my goals and motivations at that point in time. 5 years on, I know that the goals mentioned are no longer in priority, although I would love for them to be so.
Hi Sid
This letter will probably upset you but I feel that if
I don’t take this decision now, I will never be able
to do so.
Due to some urgent reasons I have to go to Kerala.It
is an unavoidable situation.
Meanwhile I have also given a serious thought to what
I want from life.Sid, in my class I was the first
person who decided to do an MBA and the only person
who wanted to do Rural Management. I feel Rural
Management is a field wherein you give more and take
less. For me the motive has never been money.
When I was in class 8 I had gone for a visit to an
orphanage with the rest of the class. It is probably
one of the most touching experiences in my life. I
still remember the faces of the children light up when
we interacted with them. What was more touching was
the fact that when asked who did they like the most,
most of them said the guy with the grey muffler (me).
From that day onwards I had it in the back of my mind
that I needed to do something for the not so fortunate
of the society.
In college, I thought of this way (coconut
cooperative) which would generate employment for many
and enable them to move further in life without having
to rely on someone. I have thought of some products
which have not been introduced in the market also
until now. I will share them with you once this
becomes a success story like Amul.
Sid, one of the things that struck me while talking to
you was when you asked us the question–What are you
doing at Iniquus if you want to do Rural Management?
I have thought over it seriously and have decided to
join an N.G.O.I will not be drawing any salary in this
job. I have already approached them and I will be
having a meeting in July.
Meanwhile I have also contacted Amul and asked them to
give me an opportunity to have a look at how it
functions. I hope to receive a reply from them soon.
What makes the trip to Kerala more worthwhile is the
fact that this is where I will be setting the base for
the co-operative.
Please do not misunderstand me. I do want to pursue my
dream and I’m glad that I joined Iniquus. At Iniquus
you made me understand that nothing is impossible.
Everything has a solution and you need to apply
yourselves fully. I may not have started applying
myself fully but I have definitely started thinking
and doing research. You have been a great boss to me
and I will always, throughout my life, cherish what
you have taught me. Believe me, am speaking from my
heart and I will always be proud to have been
associated with Team Iniquus.
I know you might not be as proud as I am.
I will not be sending a resignation letter as I would
always like to remain associated with Iniquus.Thank
you and thank you very much for your invaluable
guidance.
Yours faithfully
Robin Jacob Abraham
There is a story to how I “resigned” also…the next post probably
“In the process of trial and error, Our failed attempts are meant to destroy arrogance and provoke humility.”
Everyone’s first job is a myth buster. The huge thought palaces of luxury, comfort, status and money come tumbling down within a month itself. After my engineering, I was placed with a web development company called Iniquus (greek for not equal) as a web developer.As expected,the daily downloads on ASP.net, Jscript, Java and HTML and reprimands on not being able to meet deadlines only bogged me down and disillusionment started to sink in.. Late nights and early mornings were the only moments I spent at home. I spent many a weekend in office, struggling with miles and miles of code. In short it was a perfect job to get real.
The Boss,Siddharth Lalwani( Sid, as he liked to be called) however, is a man I continue to respect today..a man who was a perfectionist ,one whose experience of life saw frustration in the manner we worked and lived, and a man who knew how to teach.
One of such lessons happened on a Friday evening on the last day of the month. Every month end we had an office party, something all of us looked forward to after a really hectic month of learning and reproaches.
This particular day, as I was waiting for my colleague , Sid approached me and challenged me to a sprint. Now, sprinting runs in my veins and I was both amused and enthused by his challenge. Amused because I was confident of my athleticism and enthused because of the opportunity I got to show him that I was better at something.I immediately accepted the challenge.
The referee ( another colleague) blew the whistle and we were off. As expected, I was miles ahead of him, confident of an easy victory.As i was crossing him on my way back to the finish line, he challenged me to another round. Tired but self assured I said yes. In my arrogance however, I had failed to factor in how breathless I was. Soon my legs started cramping up and every movement only released more lactic acid causing pain and frustration.
I fell, feeling like Goliath, watching in frustration as the thin and frail frame of Sid passed me, reached the finish line and came back running to me. I was badly bruised but my ego and my arrogance had been butchered. I tried to hide it in the pain of my wounds but it was unbearable.
Sid bent over and held out a helping hand. As I clutched his scraggy hands, his words were ” Anyone can run a race, run the marathon”.
Running the marathon is what I am doing today. The race is far from over.
I frequently survive on weird diets, often leading to mouth ulcers, currently one of which has been tormenting me for the past 4 days. Pepsi and Namkeen, half a glass of juice, no fruits …the entire diet plan is vague and rarely effective in helping me maintain my health. An over heated body only adds to the misery.
There have however, been situations where I’ve had to survive on a diet because there were no options. One such situation presented itself during my MBA summer internship. I had been placed with Taegu Tec – a leader in making cutting tools for engineering purposes. A part of the Berkshire Hathway group now, this company is based out Daegu in Korea and hence the name.
I was assigned to do some market research for the firm and understand opportunities and flaws in terms of its business. My region was north and it meant travelling all across the industrial belts of Delhi, Noida, Manesar, Daruhera, Haridwar, Ludhiana and Chandigarh.
It was also a time when my parents and my sister had gone off to Kerala and as such, I was left to fend life on my own with a house to take care off. The start wasnt very auspicious though and after a short trip to Haridwar, on coming back, I realized that I had forgotten to put the fish back in the freezer. The house had a stench which was unbearable and I was only glad that the neighbours hadnt bothered to call the police for enquiry, thereby saving me from embarrasment and a bruised ego.
I had received an initial advance of Rs. 10,000/- from the company for my travel and accomodation.Ideally, for a college student, this should be more than sufficient. However, money was disappearing fast and in my extravagent avtaar of travelling only by Shatabdis and staying in slightly expensive hotels, I soon realized that I might just not be able to make it back to Delhi.
I was in Ludhiana when this realization hit me.After an initial bout of panic attacks, I finally sat down and budgeted the left over amount, assigning cash to each meal I was to have and the hotel and travel expenses for each day. I realized that I could pay off the hotel bills and the travel expenses and for the trip back to Delhi but I would have to compromise on food.As fate would have it, Ludhiana, the land of chicken and kebabs was to lose a foodphile to the one challenge that affects all: cash.
And so the next 7 meals across 3 days comprised of a bottle of Pepsi(500 ml) and 3 plums. I loved plums and the Pepsi helped in achieving a full stomach and the optimism of being able to make it back to Delhi( where I could borrow from my aunt) kept me going .
On the third into the diet and my last day in Ludhiana, I reassessed my situation and to my utter relief, realized I had saved more than intended which meant I had just enough to splurge on one last good non veg meal in Ludhiana.
Sitting in my hotel room, I ordered for a plate of butter chicken and naan and felt my taste buds watering in excitement and anticipation.With my stomach growling and my eyes shifting constantly from the TV to the door, I knew this was going to be well worth the wait.
After a long 20 minutes the food was in, a thickly orange gravied chicken, rich and appealing served with soft, buttery naan. My senses approved it and my mouth was eager to take big, meaty bites and chew to satisfaction.
The excitement was, however, short lived. Somehow, my stomach had adapted to my meagre diet of plums and pepsi and was now refusing to accept the flavours of the wonderfully prepared chicken.
5 minutes later I retched, spewing forth all I had eaten. Lunch, despite the butter chicken, comprised of 2 leftover plums and half a bottle of pepsi.
