A Nano on the road can tell you a lot about its owner.

A lemon yellow or shocking bright coloured one is least likely to have those nickle-coated bumber protectors (bumpers are meant to be hit and absorb the shock. Their utility lies in being broken so that they can save the rest of the machinery, the frame or engine bay for example.)

It is also likely to have itz outside rear view mirrors (ORVM) open (without being overly bothered about OVRMs being scraped by bikers).



However a nano in a "conventional car color" like metallic silver or biege or white is more likely to have those nickel coated metal bumper protectors at the front and rear. It is also more likely to have it's ORVMs folded up.(ostensibly to protect the mirrors; doesn't matter if it endangers the car & it's occupants).


It would seem that the former type is carefree, nonchalant, more at ease with itself in character. Both the Nano and the owner. While the latter would seem hesitant, withdrawn, drawing inwards protecting itself against bumps, scrapes and niggles.

It is also likely to reflect in the way these cars are driven. You are more likely to see Nano Variety of the bright plumage to be more confident and hence more aggressive in its driving style. It would careen into corners, shoot into spaces only Autorickshaws hitherto dared to scramble into. It would cut lanes, block its mightier, shinier, snobbish, brash, upmarket cousins on the road. It is neither apologetic of its smaller size and price tag nor deferential to more expensive four-wheeled representatives of shining India.

These cars are driven with pride as if declaring to the whole wide world, in just the right snobbish tone,"My owner has another car(s). I am just his inexpensive toy or his errand transport ... like a pizza delivery bike .... ugh !! a bike... nah! .. but you get the drift"


The latter i.e. the conventional car color type with the nickel-coated bumper and side protectors and the flipped in OVRMs are more likely to be have been occupied by those that have graduated from motorcycles. They are the ones Ratan Tata counted on to take his company's fortunes beyond the stratosphere when he set out to make his 'laktakiya' (1 lac) car. That is where Tata went grossly wrong. The motorcycle owner doesn't want a 'motorcycle replacement'; he wants a car. The 'bike replacement' doesn't fan his vanity. The call of aspiration isn't answered.


When family, wife, kids, peers do force him to go in for the replacement of the bike, he almost seems apologetic about considering the Nano. His car thus reflects his personality. He wants his nano to be 'car like' (the metallic dull sedan colors). He somehow can't get over his biker underpinnings (remember leg guards, saree guards, protective rainfall flaps etc.) when it comes to taking care of his nano. He probably covers all the furniture at his place with towels or other old sheets. He probably doesn't throw away any plastic bags. He is probably a great fan of recycling.

So this owner has to live with his Nano and dream of his Maruti Alto.



So there! the Nano and it's owner !!

Random Thoughts on a Random Day

Why should I
1) Not retire from the 9-5 job at 45? J
2) Not change the life of someone I had the power and privilege to?
3) Not keep my soul and my spirit turned out in the best gear?
4) Not do things which bring a smile, however faint, even on the face of a perfect stranger?
5) Not ‘be’ anyone, not a son, brother, husband, friend, boss, subordinate, for 1 hour everyday?
6) Not be moved by the despair and poverty around?
7) Not take pleasure in the small things in life: observing ants filing on a window-sill (every observed that? You’d be surprised at their industry and method!!)
8) Not get wet in the first showers?
9) Not splash around in mud puddles with ‘urchins’?
10) Not raise myself without raising my voice?

John Berryman

Dream Song 14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) "Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no Inner Resources."
I conclude now I have no inner resources,
because I am heavy bored.

Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky,
leaving behind: me, wag.

Images from the "Street"

These are a few images that I clicked while going through life .... Somehow they struck me in the way that they were "Uniquely Indian, Yaar"

Draupadi Book stall -- The linkage between Draupadi and books is a little far fetched ...


They sure got their names and their professions properly matched :-)
And what about cultural diversity ....

Javid Water Supplier located in Issac Building :-)

Needing some divine intervention in running an eatery ... It appears that Sai Baba is in charge of the kitchen here ...
While on the topic of food ... how about some Punjabi Diesh ... (dish)

Now how about some music, eh????


Enjoy !!!
Wish you all a very happy new year ....

A terrorist; A hero

A Saga of 'cheap' conciousness and lost morality

Yesterday I read received an email which talked about news coverage in these screwed up times and how news-channels in search for 'masala' are nothing more than sleaze beams ....

Sample this: We, on a normal night in our ordinary existences -- having had dinner, watching TV, rejoicing 'Sanjay Dutt' getting off the hook from Tada charges despite him possessing AK47/56s, greandes etc. ...

A major dies the same night fighting a known and dreaded terrorist on a dark night, far from his home, far away from family, doing his duty, living upto the oath he had taken, protecting the likes of 'us' ... (us who are busy watching a discussion between numerlogists and astrologers on what the color of Sanjay's shirt should be in order to bring him good fortune) ..

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time u guys read this news, the body of Major Manish Pitambare, who was shot dead at Anantnag, would have been cremated with fullmilitary honors.

On Tuesday, this news swept across all the news channels 'Sanjay Duttrelieved by court'. 'Sirf Munna not a bhai' '13 saal ka vanvaas khatam' 'although found guilty for possession of armory, Sanjay canbreath sigh of relief as all the TADA charges against him arewithdrawn' Then many personalities like Salman Khan said 'He is a good person. We knew he will come out clean'. Mr Big B said "Dutt's familyand our family have relations for years he's a good kid. He is likeelder brother to Abhishek". His sister Priya Dutt said "we can sleep well tonight. It's a great relief"

In other news, Parliament was mad at Indian team for performing bad;Greg Chappell said something; Shah Rukh Khan replaces Amitabh in KBCand other such stuff. But most of the emphasis was given on Sanjay Dutt's "phoenix like" comeback from the ashes of terrorist charges.Surfing through the channels, one news on BBC startled me. It read"Hisbul Mujahidin's most wanted terrorist 'Sohel Faisal' killed in Anantnag , India . Indian Major leading the operation lost his life inthe process. Four others are injured.

It was past midnight , I started visiting the stupid Indian channels,but Sanjay Dutt was still ruling. They were telling how Sanjay pleaded to the court saying 'I'm the sole bread earner for my family', 'I havea daughter who is studying in US' and so on. Then they showed howSanjay was not wearing his lucky blue shirt while he was hearing the verdict and also how he went to every temple and prayed for the lastfew months. A suspect in Mumbai bomb blasts, convicted under armoryact...was being transformed into a hero.

Sure Sanjay Dutt has a daughter; Sure he did not do any terrorist activity. Possessing an AK47 is considered too elementary in terroristcommunity and also one who possesses an AK47 has a right to possess apistol so that again is not such a big crime; Sure Sanjay Dutt went to all the temples;

Sure he did a lot of Gandhigiri but then........ ...

Major Manish H Pitambare got the information from his sources aboutthe terrorists' whereabouts. Wasting no time he attacked the camp, killed Hisbul Mujahidin's supremo and in the process lost his life tothe bullets fired from an AK47. He is survived by a wife and daughter(just like Sanjay Dutt) who's only 18 months old.

Major Manish never said 'I have a daughter' before he took the decision to attack the terrorists in the darkest of nights. He neverthought about having a family and he being the bread earner. No newschannel covered this since they were too busy hyping a former drugaddict, a suspect who's linked to bomb blasts which killed hundreds. Their aim was to show how he defied the TADA charges and they were sosuccessful that his conviction in possession of armory had no meaning.They also concluded that his parents in heaven must be happy and proud of him.

Parents of Major Manish are still living and they have to live rest oftheir lives without their beloved son. His daughter won't ever see herdaddy again.

So guys, please forward this message around so that the media knows which news to give importance, as it is a shame for us since this ArmyMajor's death news was given by a foreign TV channel!!!

If you believe in this, please let all like-minded people know.

Obituary for Major Manish H Pitambre.

My Childhood Days

Nostalgia – मेरा बचपन

Pictures speak louder than words. Some pictures which encapsulate the ‘growing up’ years of my generation form part of this blog. I am sure those of my generation who are reading this would be transported back to those years when we used to have the ‘run of the place’; a journey down ‘nostalgia alley’ to end up in the playground of ‘fond memories from our childhood’

Those were the days. All the kids born in the late 70s through the 80s would have fond memories of "एक अनेक और एकता" (in Media Player, in Real Player), a whole generation brought up on “एक तित्ली अनेक तित्लियाँ; दीदी ये अनेक क्या है”, of Sunday afternoons eagerly awaiting “Vikram और Betaal”, the weird, hilarious, utterly intriguing Sunday mornings with “Chandrakanta” (I remember the lead villain in that serial going “Yakkkuu” so vividly now), the endless wait with bated breath for “Chitrahaar” on Wednesday and Friday evenings – the desperation sometimes extreme enough to force us to sit through “Krishi Darshan” (आलू के मूल को दो फूट के फासले पर लगायें) with the frustration of the realization that time had come to a standstill.

Oh! The He-man and चड्डी पहन के फूल खिला है Mowgli Sunday mornings, the “Malgudi Days” evenings with स्वामी, the occasional “मिले सुर मेरा तुम्हारा” ringing in our ears, the reveling in the exploits of “Chacha Choudhry” and “Sabu” (who was 12 times the size of normal humans because he was from ‘Jupiter’ and ‘Jupiter’ is 12 times the size of ‘Earth’ by volume), and accompanying "Bahadur" (the Indian ‘Phantom’) on his adventures. Those were the days when the old women of the family (the ‘naanis’ and ‘daadis’) would reverently gaze @ Lord Ram or Krishna and very surreptitiously join their palms (in a ‘pranaam’) in reverence and devotion hoping that no one was looking esp. the kids who would tease them later.

Those were the days when the sky was such a dazzling blue (therez so much pollution these days -- Circuit), the stars shone brighter, spring smelt like, well ‘spring’ unlike the uniformity of stench ‘smoke, sweat, piss n smut’ across seasons these days.

Those were the days of gay abandon, when ‘loan installments’, ‘commitments’, ‘appraisals’ etc had not pervaded our vocabulary and consciousness and overpowered our lives.

Comrade, thou indulgeth in hypocrisy
Hypocrisy and Tyranny mark the agenda of ‘communism’

I may be accused of having shallow knowledge of the idea of ‘communism’ and thus not fit or intellectually capable of commenting on this topic.

But communism, albeit the Indian variety is preserve of a bunch of ‘armchair intellectuals’ from either Kerala or West Bengal (I know Karat doesn’t belong to either; so do a few others) who are both hypocritical and tyrannical. They lie through their teeth; are a nuisance any progressive agenda; always thinking about ‘national interest’ – China’s.

They claim to be a party who speaks for the disposed, the downtrodden, the underprivileged – the farmers, the workers, the labourers etc. But they have always been a tyrannical lot – Mussolini, Mao, Stalin – the Indian communist comrades however are a step ahead. They have found innovative ways to operate within the constraints of a ‘democracy’ (an idea I am sure they detest because for ‘communists’ the world over THE PARTY comes first. Oh! And itz only THE PARTY which is supposed to exist).

So while shooting down or creating all kinds of hurdles and obstacles at the very least for every proposal towards disinvestment, creating opportunities out of moribund, loss-making, sick government held units in other parts of the country, they go ahead unabashedly privatizing ‘communist’-ruled states.

Which means that while other states are left to labour with their sick govt. held units, West Bengal and Kerala can move ahead on their agenda of economic revival. A very base unit of any economic activity is ‘entrepreneurial spirit’ and a market-enviroment. One should be willing to take risks by investing capital/resources and meet the needs of market thus making a profit out of one’s efforts.

West Bengal intends to provide all of this to the investors who want to invest mega-bucks in the state. This despite the fact that ‘Union’, ‘Strike’ and ‘Kolkata’ are synonymous in this country. The West Bengal government is willing to extend its proverbial arm and leg to secure FDI. One of the conditions from the investors that is that it needs land for its projects. So the WB govt. goes all out to procure the same from the poor farmers. No harm in that as long as there is a viable rehabilitation program and the farmers are provided alternative sources of sustenance and the procurement is voluntary. The ‘situation’ arises when the farmers refuse to part with their land.

Itz pretty normal till now. If this was the case in any other non-‘communist’ ruled state, the farmers would’ve been offered a lot more money, there would’ve been committees appointed to oversee rehabilitation etc. The communists would’ve been first in line and with the largest megaphones screaming @ the top of their voices for the rights of the farmers to their land. They would’ve done everything in the book and a few outside of it to make sure that project never took off. But what if the project faces similar hurdles in West Bengal. Ah! Now how can the populace defy THE PARTY. So if there is one village which opposed (Well, there was Singur and now there is Nandigram) the government’s moves, THE PARTY would move it’s cadres into the affected area, cut off access to journalists and other observers and along with the police go on a murdering spree. These are the CPI (M) death squads I am talking about – goons on the payroll of some influential CPI (M) functionary. They kill hapless farmers, women and children – those who dared oppose the diktat of THE PARTY.

The poor farmers should’ve just stood by while the government grabbed their land, paid them peanuts for it, while it didn’t bother to impart some skill which would’ve enabled them to eke out a living. After all a few farmer suicides in this country doesn’t even merit a ‘breaking news’ item on our television channels or newsprint.

Comrade, Thou art Hypocritical.

P.S: Scores of poor villagers lost their lives in Nandigram, West Bengal when police and CPI (M) opened fire. Most of the deaths have occurred as a result of injuries from sharp weapons and bullets NOT fired by the police. The area was barricaded and out of bounds for the newsmedia. Most of the casualties were those of women and children.

The ‘Glamourous’ Hawkers
UP mein dum hai kyunki jurm yahaan kam hai

This is a cricket crazy nation and the keyword here is not cricket, itz crazy. Add movies to it and this is a nation of sleepwalkers who are out to believe every inconceivable shit that comes their way. The more outrageous the dream, the more believable. The advertisers, the smart guys who get ‘icons’ (aside: smirk) like Amitabh Bacchan to sell you your bottle of “Banphool Tel” (my dumb countrymen, do you believe that Amitabh in his wildest, most adventurous dream would ever venture near anything close to banphool tel) or get Sachin Tendulkar to peddle ‘SunFeast – har ghar mein Sachin’ biscuits for that matter. The list is long, gory and a conjob par excellence.

Just like with our politicians, we have allowed our celebrities to run amok with their bag of goodies; we have let them fool us with false promises; we have allowed them to show us false dreams, to squat on our consciousness. It doesn’t matter that the bigger the celebrity endorsing the brand, the fatter his paycheck and hence more is the amount of money that the company has to ‘extract’ (wondering: is ‘extort’ a good synonym here) from it’s ‘esteemed customers’ and thatz YOU.

Our obsession with ‘Page 3’ is grotesque. Yours truly is now aware of names like Miniissha Lamba (spelling of the name altered to defy all conventions on the ‘advice’ of some joker like ‘Sanjay Jumaani’ or ‘Sunita Menon’ – the former a ‘numerologist’, the latter, a tarot card reader’) – her contribution to society – a few page 3 parties and willingness to drop her dress for the camera. And then there’s the obnoxious ‘Amrita Arora’ – her claim to fame – a few bombed movies and her ‘boyfriend’ who apparently is a cricketer (I haven’t seen him in any team though. Apparently, he plays in England. But so do Aungwardanda Gimbo and Joe Bloggs. I don’t have anything against the bloke but hey he is featured in ‘page 3’ alongside Amrita). Oh! as for the classical debate on why does one read those sections in the papers and watch those spots on TV? – I don’t; itz just everywhere: in the morning papers, on all channels on TV (I have to admit that I am now tired of watching Jean Claude Van Damme movies, and the big cats of Africa and hence surf channels a bit and it is here that these 'goody peddlers' jump @ me)

Since we are ‘good’ Indians, we even have ‘caste & class’ for celebrities which makes Katrina Kaif the higher class, Malaika Arora Khan (middle class but with upper class aspirations…. ASIDE: That explains her hatred of textiles) and Rakhi Sawant the lower middle class. O! Jejus .. there I said it.

So after much confusion and lack of coherence in this piece which is predominantly because of the onset of hunger, I’d just say to whoever is bored enough to read this piece completely: Do not fall for these dumbasses (aka celebrities), they are nothing more than ‘glamourous’ (I have my doubts there as well) hawkers.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

P.S: The Indian Cricket Team is an average team. In fact it is not even a team. It is a bunch of individuals, some of whom have ‘performed’ in favourable conditions. We weren’t a team. We had no chance of winning the World Cup. ‘Team BCCI’ should be ashamed, it should just realize that they aren’t quite cut out for it. And so should YOU.

And all the tarot readers / numerologists were WRONG – They had predicted an India-Australia final with many of them rooting for Irfan Pathan. Pathan didn’t play a single match. India was booted out in the first round itself.

So stop being superstitious as well!!!

I AM NOT EVEN COMMENTING ON AMITABH’s SAMAJWADI PARTY AD.

UP MEIN DUM HAI KYUNKI JURM YAHAAN KAM HAI – Does he himself believe in the BULLSHIT that he is uttering?

The A-B-C of Bengali
by Shivjeet Khullar (reproduced here)

A is for Office. This is where the average Kolakattan goes and spends a day hard(ly) at work. If he is in the Government he will arrive at 10:00, wipe his forehead till 11:00, have a tea break at 12:00, throw around a few files at 12:30, break for lunch at 1:00, smoke an unfiltered cigarette at 2:00, break for tea at 3:00, sleep in a seated position at 4:00 and go home at 5:00. It’s a hard life!

B is for Bhision (vision). For some reason most of the Bengalis don’t have good bhision. In fact in Kolkata most people can be seen wearing spectacles most of the time. The effects of this show in the city.

C is for Chappell. This is the Bengali word for the ‘Devil’, for the worst form of evil. At night mothers put their kids to sleep saying ‘go to bed, or Chappell will come and take you away.’

D is for Debashish. By an ancient law every fourth Bengali Child has to be named Debashish. So you have a Debashish everywhere and as an effort at creativity and distinguishing one from another they might also be called Deb, Debu, Deba, Debo with other variations like Debnath and Debprotim thrown in.

E is for Eeesh. This is a very common Bengali exclamation made famous by Aishwarya Rai in the movie Devdas. It is estimated that on an average a Bengali uses ‘eeesh’ 10,089 times every year. (That’s counting eeesh and other eeesh-ish words).

F is for Feesh. These are creatures that swim in rivers and seas and are a favourite food of the Bengalis. Despite the fact that a fish market has an overpowering and overwhelming odour, it takes but a sniff for a Bengali to determine if a fish is all right. If not he is liable to say ‘eeesh what feeesh is theesh!’

G is for Good name. Every Bengali boy will have a good name like Debashish or Debopratim and a pet name like Shontu, Chontu, Dinku while every Bengali Girl will be Paromita or Protima as well as Shampa, Champa and Tuki. Basically your nickname is there to kill your good name.
H is for Harmonium. The Bengali equivalent of a rock guitar. Take four Bengalis and a Harmonium and you have the successors to “The Bheatles!”

I is for illeesh. This is a feeesh with 10,000 bones which would kill any ordinary person, but which the Bengalis eat with releeesh!

J is for Jhola. No self respecting Bengali feels complete without his Jhola. It is a shapeless cloth bag where he keeps all his belongings and he fits an amazing number of things in it. Even as you read this there are 2 million jholas bobbing around Kolkata- and they all look exactly the same!

K is for Kee Kando. It used to be the favourite Bengali exclamation (something like what chaos) till ‘eeesh’ took over because of Aishwarya Rai (now Kee Kando’s agent is trying to hire Bipasha Bosu (nee Basu)).

L is for Lungi. People in Kolkata manage to play football and cricket wearing it. Now there is talk of a lungi expedition to Mt. Everest.

M is for Minibash (minibus). These are dangerous half- buses whose antics put those speed-demons on the Formula 1 race track to shame.

N is for Nangtoe. This is the Bengali word for Naked. It is the most interesting naked word in any language!

O is for Oil. The Bengalis believe that a touch of mustard oil will cure anything from cold (oil in the nose), to earache (oil in the ear), to cough (oil on the throat) to piles (oil you know where!)

P is for Phootball (football). This is always a phavourite paasshon (favourite passion) of the Kolkattan. Every Bengali is born an expert in this game. The two biggest clubs there are Mohun-Bagan FC and East-Bengal AC and whenever they play, the entire city comes to a grinding halt (of course it also comes to a halt as a result of strikes called by some union or political party which could vary from once-a-week to daily during elections).

Q is for Queen. This really has nothing to do with the Bengalis or Kolkata, but it’s the only Q word I could think of at this moment. There’s also Quilt but they never use them in Kolkata.

R is for Rabindranath Tagore. Many years ago Rabindranath got the Nobel prize. This allows everyone in Kolkata to frame their acceptance speeches and walk with their heads held high and look down at the humbler and less accomplished denizens of Delhi and Mumbai.

S is for Sardarjee who the Bengalis are very envious of because sardars are born with a semi-monkey cap on.

T is for Trams. Hundred years later there are still trams in Kolkata. Of course if you are in a hurry it’s faster to walk.

U is for Umbrella. When a Bengali baby is born they are handed one.

V is for Violensh (violence). Bengalis are the most non-violent violent people around. When an accident happens they will shout and scream and curse and abuse, but the last time someone actually hit someone was in 1979.

W is for Water. For three months of the year the city is under water and every year for the last 200 years the authorities have been taken by surprise by this phenomenon!

X is for Xmas. It’s very big in Kolkata with Park Street fully lit up.

Y is for Yeshtarday (yesterday). Which is always better than today for a Bengali.

Z is for Jeebra, ..Joo, Jip and Jylophone

Disclaimer:
Source of original news: chain e-mail

Subsequent comment picked up from another blog:
http://alexmachan.blogspot.com/2007/02/insult-to-indian-flag.html
Maria said...
I was at the event at New Jersey. This person put the flag near her feet to get blessing for his country. She told the authority to remove it before that someone click the photo and start distributing on Internet. I was think Alex blog is smart blog but I was wrong. We should use our discretion when we upload these pictures in the blog without putting the full side of story.Shame on you Alex. I lost trust in your blog.Maria

Gurus n Quacks
Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi - Divine Mother, The "Guru" of Sahaja Yoga, Godwoman,

The one who tramples the national flag (sic)













Like Maggi Noodles, Instant Karma is available 'for sale' today and the peddlers and/or their followers are so haughty/illiterate/ignorant/callous that they cant see beyond their shadows.

I am a shamed 'Indian' today. This is a sad day.





SHAMEFUL PICTURES OF THE NATIONAL FLAG SERVING TIME AS THE FOOTMAT OF A 'GODMOTHER'




All those 'apparently' educated people who lie prostate at the feet of such 'divine mothers and fathers', shame on you.
One of them can be seen here ... There are thousands of others.

Think about it!!

Up for some laughs !!!

If thatz not going for the ball(s), what is?

Now can one get more explicit????

Source of Al-Qaeda funding !!!!!!

Use Technology for competitive advantage.....

‘Candlegiri’ and the ‘Great Indian Middle Class’
Vengeance of the wannabes and also-rans of society

The great Indian middle class, one of the most hypocritical and racist communities on this planet. Why do I say this? Well, a couple of recent incidents. First, the case of Jessica Lall – a small-time model who was shot on having denied a drink to the son of an influential (quite obviously ‘rich’ ….. thatz Indian politics for you… all of them are rich…. A bunch of incompetent, corrupt, scheming, insecure, rich people) person. Now I too rejoiced when the ‘miscarriage of justice’ (yeah! The accused was initially let off amidst witnesses turning ‘hostile’ by being ‘bought off’, ‘bumped off’ or ‘threatened to push daisies’) was redressed (the court hauled the police, the lower courts etc.) and delivered a landmark decision. Manu Sharma (the accused) was to be punished for his crimes after all.

I don’t have any issues with this but look at the background – Jessica was slightly glamorous in her appearance and hence initially the interest was lukewarm from the middle classes (those who watch English news channels and then the vernacular ones to get the full import of the news… those for whom every news is ‘breaking news’ being reported ‘live and exclusive’ by breathless (mostly telegenic) ‘reporters’) – till the visual media started beaming pictures of her ‘very ordinary looking’ sister, her parents (haggard, pretty ordinary looking folks … folks who look and would have been tired of carrying the burden of injustice) – the collective realization of the middle classes was kick-started – these people are one of ‘Us’ … and how dare a person (incidentally each member of the middle class tries to break into the ‘upper class’, ‘the privileged lot’ … what many government housing boards euphemistically call the HIG, i.e. the ‘high income group’)… and thus was started the concerted campaign of bringing the culprit to justice … or shall we say retribution/ revenge.

We were then bombarded with pleas to redress the ‘miscarriage of justice’ by lighting candles at the ‘india gate’ in delhi for instance. The breathless TV ‘reporters’ were joined by ‘RJs’ (radio jockeys) who typically would score lesser in IQ tests and are generally more breathless on the FM radio stations. There were signature campaigns (e-mail campaigns for the more technologically inclined). There were also a few ‘sms’ contests (Should manu sharma be hanged? Type “Manu Y” for Yes; “Manu N” for No and send it to 6644. The first 300 would qualify for a 3-day vacation to Malaysia and would also get front row seats in the courtroom when the verdict is delivered).

Why am I raving and ranting against the middle classes? I am one of them, right? One of them …

One who struggles day in and day out to break into the next upper category….
One who looks wistfully at business class seats while flying economy in a cattle carrier…
One who looks down upon people who make much less money and are not ‘privileged enough’ …
One who if fair by color of skin would look down upon people with a darker skin… the evidence is the surging sales of fairness creams (for more evidence look at matrimonial ads… wanted bride: fair/gori, blah blah .. or boy, fair/5’ 7”, 5-fig salary)…
One who doesn’t acknowledge all those unfortunate people who happen to have been born into poverty and a life of misery ….
One who dreams of social equity but wont want the dalits or the poor, the umkempt to be in the same vicinity as us (they have no class!!)
One who discriminates … (check her English out … her accent is funny) …
One chest-beating nationalist who probably hasn’t ever stood up when the national anthem was sung .. unless someone was looking …
One who is too keen to dispense justice .. to engage in ‘prohibition’/ ‘censure’ of any kind…
One who wants cheap labour – maids, drivers, errand boys etc. but who’ll rave n rant about the slums in the cities (no slums, no cheap labour my friends) …


I am ashamed of the ‘great Indian middle class’.
Where were/are they:

- When a dalit woman and her daughter were raped & murdered by half the upper-class menfolk of a village in maharashtra?
- When women were raped in moving cars in the nation’s capital?
- When crime is committed openly in full public eye?
- When middle class people in middle class cars try and bully ‘bikers’ (bikes cost less) and pedestrians on the streets?
- When there is so much misery around (and they sit tight in front of their 21” flat screen color TVs watching ‘english’ channels)

Maybe busy watching their ‘english’ channels, participating in some ‘sms contests’, buying ‘fairness’ creams or maybe lighting candles for some ‘cause’.

Or probably watching ‘news’ of Shilpa Shetty fashioning herself as india’s ambassador at ‘Big Brother’ (sic)…

AFTERTHOUGHTS:
I dont think there would have been any candlelight vigils if Jessica was an ugly, fat woman ... after all.. how would the designer middle-classes bring themselves to hold a candle to a fat, ugly woman and how could they identify with her ... with Jessica they were fine ... she could represent the ‘middle classes’ just fine …
Here was a fine specimen who the middle-classes could claim as their own ... just like they have been claiming citizens of all nationalities but of ‘Indian origin’ (their forefathers probably went there as conscripts, slaves, cheap labour or fortune hunters) as their own (Kalpana Chawla, Sunita Willaims, Mahendra Choudhary – in case you didn’t know .. the ex-Prime Minister of Fiji who was deposed in a coup – to name a few).

Mere Yaar ki Shaadi hai !!!!
Homer has found his Marge ...


I got engaged on 26th of Jan which means that every year people in India will get the day off and I will get bugged by my fiancée who would then have become my wife (for now I’ll call her high-command) to celebrate esp. since it would be a holiday for the both of us. I have a plan though in case the bugging gets too much to handle – I switch to another country so I don’t get bugged on the 26th of Jan (Republic Day in India and a public holiday) :-) … but hey who knows, I guess I would have to celebrate it after office hours even if in a different country.

When I wasn’t engaged I used to think of marriage with mixed emotions coz I have always been (or thought so) of the behavorial differences in men and women – the ‘men are from mars and women are from venus’ kinds. I haven’t found it difficult to connect with women (some are impossible though) … but I also felt quite a few no. of times that they are given to emotions a bit too much. But then you see the other side of the coin, and that is that they are so much more involved and ‘giving’ when it comes to relationships.

We men find it difficult to live upto expectations … and most of the times we bring this pressure on ourselves. As for me, I’m in that phase when everything appears positive and achievable … maybe it’s love … lemme just rephrase it, I’m sure it is :-)

Dear blog, till next time … keep rocking.

The Pigeon and The Statue

It’s pretty amazing talking to people you once worked with. You tend to learn so much about them and yourself in the exchange. You also get a lot more gossip including those involving you – about how your new-found friend and some old trusty ones felt bad, let-down and de-motivated when they were witness to your ex-boss bad-mouthing you. Ex-bosses are a special category I tell them – It is in their interest to do what they are doing. We are wrong in expecting them to be our saviours, we anoint them as our own ‘Santa Claus’ and we expect the goodies, to our own doom, while ignorant of the fact that the ex-boss is busy with his own Santa. This chain ties up neatly all the way. There are links in the chain which are sturdy, strong, and reliable and depending on where you are looking from, it is where either the search begins or ends.

So how does one deal with such a situation? Well one certainly has to accept the fact that on ‘some days we are the pigeon and on others we are the statue’. But in this role-play the opportunity to be the pigeon is important.

If you have a ‘prolific pigeon’ for a boss who has taken a particular liking for you, the ‘Statue of Liberty’, then you are in for a lot of shit [pun unintended]. The challenge is to find pigeons who believe in fair and equitable distribution of their ‘holy droppings’ and not be partial towards any particular statue no matter how appealing. That’s what a man-manager is supposed to do I believe – motivate his team.

Oh! And I guess I would start campaigning against pigeons being used as docile symbols of peace. Have you ever seen a particularly mean, combative, insecure, your-worst-nightmare-pigeon? I believe there is an active lobby within the CIA or Mossad or MI6 or whatever-spook-agency trying to character-assassinate the pigeon. It is a bird of prey and god help you if you are a particularly nice statue [ref. ‘Statue of Liberty’, the one who stands for free speech

Going back to dilbert, I believe Scott Adams got it right when he describes the pigeon (he calls it ‘The Boss’) as follows:

http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/the_characters/index.html#boss

pi·geon² - The Boss - He's every employee's worst nightmare. He wasn't born mean and unscrupulous, he worked hard at it. And succeeded. As for stupidity, well, some things are inborn.

His top priorities are the bottom line and looking good in front of his subordinates and superiors (not necessarily in that order). Of absolutely no concern to him is the professional or personal well-being of his employees. The Boss is technologically challenged but he stays current on all the latest business trends, even though he rarely understands them.

Dilbert's Rules of order

The corporate survival kit

-- I dont have an attitude problem, you have a perception problem

-- I love deadlines. I especially like the way the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by.

-- Needing someone is like needing a parachute. If she isn't there the first time, chances are you wont need her again.

-- Don't be irreplacable. If you cant be replaced, you cant be promoted.

-- On the keyboard of life, always keep one finger on the escape key.

-- Accept that some days you are the pigeon.... and some days you are the statue.

-- Age doesnt always bring wisdom. Sometimes age comes alone.

-- Even if you are on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.

-- If it wasnt for the last minute, nothing would get done.

-- When you dont know what to do, walk fast and look worried.

-- I can only please one person per day. Today is not your day; Tomorrow doesn’t look good either.

-- When everything is coming your way, you are in the wrong lane

Some things are just worth the trouble

15 secs of exhilaration for 15 days of hard work

Funny days are here again …. the twists and turns of life … when the ears hear something and the eyes detect something else …. When the mind goes bonkers trying to figure out the “gap” that it perceives in what it hears and what it sees/feels …. Overworked imagination hahn! … well, could be …. Can one help it … nope! … But yeah it is moments like these … the thrill, the challenge, the uncertainty which bring out the person that you really are … which define what you stand for … the USPs for the product “YOU” …

It is at moments like these that I am taken back in time …. When I dust my memory to extract that one instance when resolve triumphed all odds, when persistence paid off, when realization struck that no matter how tough the journey, the summit is always worth it …

I thus go back to my trekking days … when I set out to romance "Darwa Top, Garhwal Himalayas" standing at 13500 ft above mean sea level …

Uttarkashi is where we set up base camp … it was called the “acclimatization camp” – we were getting used to the “ice-cold water”, the regimen of waking up @ 5:00 in the morning at the shrill shriek of a whistle, adroitly relieving ourselves in the jungle/bushes/shrubs/anyplace-to-keep-compromising-modesty-to-acceptable-limits….

After the week long acclimatization regimen viz. all of the above and treks to the nearby hills with full gear and rock climbing routies, we set out on “The Journey” one fine morning … The whole group was quite enthusiastic and gung-ho … Thus is began ..

We had to trek for 15 straight days walking 28-30 kms everyday, starting from “Camp Zero” .... carrying 25-30 kgs of weight (we had to carry everything ... food ... change of clothes ... first aid kit ... survival kit, camping gear, extra shoes etc.) ...

Everyday there were varying amounts of incline ... sometimes 65-70 degrees ... it was a tough job ... it could break a man's will several times each day .... Everyday I used to think "Why the hell am I torturing myself?" .... The urge to turn back was very powerful .... I still pushed myself further everyday ....

After 15 days when we reached the peak .... just as I was able to drag myself to the peak and touch the stone there [dutifully it had "sapna + rajesh" scrawled upon itself; No rock or wall worth its salt goes without graffiti :-)] ... the weather turned .. one moment it was bright and sunny ... the next it was dark and snowing ... people scampered ... visibility was ‘1 foot’ and it was bone-chilling ... somewhere in the mad scramble I lost my footing .... I fell down and went rolling down the hill for what seemed like eternity … I thought I’d die there and be buried in the snow .... a cold, unforgiving, anonymous death …. But I managed to roll down and hit the track again when it wound its way around the peak ....

I waited to catch my breath and steeled myself and kept moving till I reached the summit base camp..... I have never enjoyed hot maggi more in my life ... neither have I ever seen a sight more beautiful and breathtaking like the one from beside the "sapna + rajesh" rock ... nor have I ever felt the rush of being "on top of the world" like I did there (albeit for 10 secs) ....

It taught me quite a few things in life

1) It takes 15 days of hard trekking to reach a point of bliss which lasts for 15 secs.

2) Those 15 secs were definitely worth the trouble

3) What we think is our ‘limit of endurance’ is just a state of mind .... our endurance is limitless

4) Maggi and all the other small things in life really taste ‘out of this world’ ... if we learn to appreciate them by using the proper ‘measurement scale’

5) Honesty and basic human values keep improving dramatically as we keep going further up ... needs keep decreasing....

6) Rajesh reached there before I did .... and he thought of Sapna when he saw paradise ......

7) Maybe sapna reached there [but she'd have written "Rajesh + Sapna" :-)] .... maybe they both did ....

Soul Soufflé: Psychobabble

The other day I was had a pretty interesting conversation which got me thinking and it really took on a wild mental roller-coaster, an intellectual bungee-jump with its attendant descent, the breaking of the fall and the reverse tug accompanied by apprehension, fear, exhilaration, and exultation.

A friend of mine SMS’ed me a question – Does fate decide everything for us or do we make our own fate?

I thought about it and something which came to me straight away was that the answer when posed to anyone would depend on his current state of mind. A person going through good times and enjoying a stint of relatively good fortune was bound to respond with an answer that we make our own fate while the same person when going through relatively difficult times would likely respond that everything is decided by fate. I have seen this happen enough and more number of times with different kinds of people.

So I really thought long and hard about it and I still don’t have a very convincing answer. But I tried to put my thoughts down. The way I see it: Fate ultimately is a result of the choices we make as we go along. There are zillions of permutations and combinations which take us on a certain path. Every moment we have multiple options and choices and the choices that we make affect the options that are made available to us in future which loosely can be described as fate.

Which means that fate is made of choices that we make today and it manifests itself in the quality and quantity of future options/choices made available to us. But what about timing? What about “when” those choices present themselves? It is extremely important when certain choices present themselves to us. There are options/choices which when presented to us when are in a certain frame of mind are no-brainers – but in the long term they wouldn’t probably be the most prudent options to opt for. Which leads to the question: What is it that drives us to make choices and decisions? We mostly are guided by short-term gains; by visibility of advantages in the short term.

Aren’t our judgments clouded by the visible, by what’s on the surface, by what we stand to gain “now’ rather than after “t” time? I have seen most people going the short term way. And I have realized that for all our education and purported intelligence we are still guided by “instincts”, “gut feel”, “today, now” and when our decisions are guided by instincts they tend to present the best possible state in the near present as the most optimal choice. So we are more dependent on survival, immediate satisfaction and gratification as the guiding principles of decision making.

It would seem that in this day and age of “instant karma”, “fast food” and “immediate communication” it is more than apt ….

The desi version of CNN-IBN

What the hell do local cable newscasters do with laptops

The other day when I had stopped over at “home sweet home” onward on one of my routine travels, I ended up catching an episode of the local TV news. The cable-wallahs aren’t to be left behind in this capitalistic economy. They are doing their best beaming live/deferred-live-claiming-to-be-live news on the local channel complete with brand-name, logo of the channel, ticker-tape of “breaking news”, local hair-oil ad-spot, a distinctly uncomfortable tie-clad unshaven newscaster (or a heavyset matronly looking one) with the frills of “live news” viz the laptop. It was funny to watch those guys reporting local news -- how a certain Mr. Amitabh houdhary won the JSCA (Jharkhand State Cricket Association) presidentship after having staved off a stiff fight from Some-Mr-Mahato, the home minister with additional sports portfolio in the current dispensation in power.

- I say it was funny because I found those guys clicking the laptop every now and then giving those Star-News, CNN-IBN kind of looks; you gotta see it to believe it…

- Besides the mannerism of the click on the keyboard was more akin to that of the guy punching in the details behind the railway reservation counter – they tend to use only one finger to cover the entire expanse of the keyboard ….

- I couldn’t help but wonder what it was on their laptop screens that they were staring. Was it Solitaire? Or the list of groceries they needed to carry on their way back home.

- Oh! And there was a serious-looking sardarji in brown striped shirt and matching brown striped tie (I’m talking horizontal stripes for both the shirt and the tie) writing furiously every now and then … alternating studiously between clicks on the laptop and furious writing spree on a batch of crumpled papers at his disposal.

Getting back to the electoral brouhaha, the "breaking news": Apparently the promise on which the incumbent retained power was that he’d been instrumental in getting MSD (Mahendra Singh Dhoni, the humble rockstar and poster-boy of Indian cricket and the messiah and idol of small-town India) into the Indian cricket team and how he’d be producing more MSDs (boy! I thought JSCA was untouched by coporate ethics viz. expressly taking credit for something which you had nothing to do with and had no inkling of).

Right at that moment the newscaster’s (yeah the sardar in brown horizontal stripes) promise of getting back after a “short commercial break” and his instruction/request not to flip channels (as there was more interesting news to come by) broke the trance that I was held under and I flipped channels as the ad with a local guy (The desi John Abraham … with long tresses, bike et al) and local girl (the gal with local John has to be local Bipasha) espousing the difference that “London English Coaching Class” had brought about in their lives and how they could now kanfeedently talk in Englees thanks to “London English Coaching Class”.

Small Town India is surely down the aspirational path and sure as hell producing heroes by the dozen. …. So MSDs, Md. Kaifs and Suresh Rainas are the new gods of this land!!!

Pleasure: The small things in Life !!!

It is amazing how one can have a refreshing conversation even with the Boss J. In fact I had one today …. And indeed it was quite a pleasure when in fact it was on not-so-comfortable territories (ASIDE: All those twisted minds … don’t get any arcane ideas) … So it was about career, growth, fit, organisation and stuff !!! Interesting and quite refreshing …

I guess once in a while you need to speak to yourself; to “stand naked in front of the mirror and ask the difficult questions” (ASIDE: I can those twisted minds going off on a tangent again) … but such is life and such are its ways …

One must always be doing what one enjoys .. else learn to enjoy what one is doing else it is just not worth it … Besides life is not a job, a boss, a career … it is not about proving yourself to anyone … it is about being comfortable in one’s skin .. about being what one is .. and finding happiness in what one is doing …

The idea of “perfection” is a constant chase and the damn thing about chasing a mirage, because that’s what “perfection” seems to be, is that it constantly keeps shifting. So how does one manage to find peace, contentment, happiness?

By looking forward to going back home, by looking to read that book that you have been reading … by spreading happiness because thatz how it comes back to you. A simple “good morning” to the security guard on your way to office; a “hey! nice tie” to a colleague or a “wow! excellent idea” to an enthusiastic mate should do the job just fine … the pleasure of putting a smile on someone’s face is immeasurable … the knowledge of being an “agent of positivity” is worth its weight in gold …

So here I am, despite what other people would term as a “alarm bells on” conversation feeling really good. You guys think I am weird, aren’t you? Well! I am … and I revel in that knowledge … :)

My Good Friend E!

Outpouring of an “Emotional Garbage Bin”

This is a personal piece. I don’t generally put up personal stories on a public site but then “where there’s a rule, there’s an exception”. A personal incident and a few of my ‘outlandish’ theories to follow.

This story is about a mad girl … and I really mean ‘mad’… both in a good and bad way !!!! Letz call her E. It so happens that I’ve known E for some years now. And I have to admit that this has been a great learning experience and E has been a great teacher. She has taught me a lot about womanhood and the irrationality of their thought processes. Well, there I have made a provocative, sweeping generalist statement. All those “feminist-types” would now be hot under the collar and baying for my blood. To them, I say, just relax; I made the statement about women being “irrational” from a man’s point of view which you discredit anyways, so relax. :)

Now that’s what I call logic ….

OK, now back to E. In all time that I have known her, E has gone through 2 heartbreaks and I have spent enormous amounts of time, effort and money listening to her sob-stories (do I sound harsh???? … well! you should know the no. of hours clocked listening to those depressing run-of-events … that late @ night …. that many times .. and you know what I am talking about).

So, here’s E struggling to get over one heartbreak coz the dude she was seeing flipped @ the last moment and went his own way. Fair enough, men are bastards (I see the feminists nodding vigorously and I am not at all surprised that they’ve read till this point….. EXPRESSION: Smug). So I had to endure those late nights providing a shoulder to depression-stricken E and hear out her ‘arbit, morbid’ theories in the middle of the night. E wants the 'ditcher' (yeah! The dude who has ditched her) to suffer the worst fate …. And that too not in hell …. She wants him to suffer "Right Here, Right Now" …. She cannot stand the guy being happy … She wants him hauled over the coals/ fed to hungry lions/ shackled in a 'harem of homosexual men'/ hung by the b***s;

One fine day she scans the papers and lo! and behold! finds our man on ‘page 3’ flashing his "wrigley's white" smile at the camera with his eye-candy of a wife [thatz what E claims … I have never seen her ... but I sure as hell dont want to coz that would give me a severe complex ;-) ... coz the guy ... umm! seriously I just dont think he deserves any better] hanging on his shirt sleeves. There goes a round of fuming, raving, ranting -- “ I want that bastard castrated”, “There is no justice in this world”, “I wonder if there is any god at all”, “ I don’t know who to trust”. Thus follow numerous blah-de-blah sessions … and there goes another night’s sleep. Now if one has to catch an early morning flight” … or has to give up “reading my book” time it can be really irritating … especially if it happens to be the 50th such occasion ....

But I managed to surprise myself … because I hung on for 3 years … and I used to think I didn’t have much patience with people ... awry/wierd ones especially…. I feel I have outdone myself … :) [OK! that was a cheapshot ... but it was solely for dramatic effect]

Along the way I have been accused of “trying to make others feel that you are superior to them…. You really put them down to an extent that they feel they are full of shit” …. Yeah! … and other crimes like “you are too full of yourself” … well partly correct …. I am not too full of myself … well! I am to some extent .. and I don’t think it’s a bad thing … itz like capitalism, you know … it has been amply demonstrated that it is the only workable solution … capitalism I mean; socialism having become defunct and moribund … itz like our hatred of “stinking rich” people while desperately wanting to get rich at the same time ….. basically it is our imperfections staring us in the face and making us miserable …. So I am OK being full of myself … as long as I don’t harm others by my machinations … ;-)

E’s idea of ‘having a life’ is “DJing”; Fine!!! Music is an acronym of “life” for many people .. and so it is for me as well … E’s hobby is “music”, E’s idea of a good time is ‘partying’ … I haven’t heard anything else in all these years like reading ..oh! shucks … I did hear that a couple of times … but that was more on the lines “Oh! So you are reading this book hahn! … even I got a book today” …. So one would guess that music would take care of all E’s problems … like a hobby, activity or a passion is supposed to … but no! even music failed …. [ASIDE: There I go boasting about my reading habits ... She was right -- I am too full of myself .... But hell! it could be philately, painting, counting stars, pottery ... any 'real' hobby .. which gets some creative juices flowing ... pun completely unintended]

Sometimes I get the feeling that E is a very ‘lost child’, probably wants to believe that she’s a perfectly humble, innocent girl who is completely misunderstood; she just cant fathom why people “stab me in the back” … when she claims that “I have done so much for them” …. Yeah! .. if you call people, use their time, unload your emotional burden on them, expect them to listen to your litany of woes and AGREE! .. I guess your idea of “I have done so much for them” is slightly warped. [ASIDE: There goes the "too full of himself" bastard]

After a couple of years or providing my shoulder for E’s ‘tears’ at her convenience …. Another dude walks into her life … perfectly normal, humble person … of the foreign-returned kinds …. (I don’t know about the accent bit ... I mean whether he "had it" or not ... ASIDE: pun completely unintended yet again)…. And the inevitable heartbreak followed … and E promptly sought out my shoulder and patient listening skill (as patient as I can be .. but with E I was … I don’t know why … maybe pity … maybe sympathy … maybe empathy … maybe momentum … ) Another year of my being “Emotional Garbage Bin” ensued … but then one fine evening, with the same thing happening yet again, something snapped inside me…. I have my own problems in life … and E’s style of repeating the whole damn incidents (of how she went to the party where she saw B … and how her erstwhile friend Y told something nasty about her to her friend X’s wife M … who is good pals with P … phew!) … with each incident being narrated again and again and again, I became nauseous and had to give it straight to E. I told her “you should seek professional help to get over your problems” …. And that was it … E told me “you are the most selfish bastard I've ever known … who only thinks about himself … who wants to make other people feel like shit because they aren’t as strong as you are” …. [ASIDE: I agree that was way too harsh ... but then once you provide a shoulder to lean on .. and you begin to feel the whole weight of the burden, to the extent where you are like a tissue/napkin to be used to get someone's nose blown into ... it gets kinda frustrating ...]

So E! wish you all the best with your “music” !!! And apologies to have put this up on my site … but unlike you I don’t have an “Emotional Garbage Bin” @ my disposal…..

P.S: E! There are multiple ways to deal with one’s frustration, depression and all other negative emotions … This is mine .. and it is mighty helpful … it works … so! Please find one that works for you …. And yeah! No offence meant.

The Rat Race Derby

Dude: The Hot-Shot Young Executive

This is the story of “dude”, who fancies himself as a hotshot, young (sic… if you can call a 30-year-old that), jet-setting (is there a word called train-setting?) executive. When dude entered one of the top B-schools in the country (the topmost of those with American affiliations), he was ecstatic, believing firmly that he had finally “arrived” in life.

He stepped out with stars in his eyes; stars shining bright because dude was out to change the world. After all, he had the necessary tools to make it big (pun completely unintended), really big: A B-school degree from one of the best schools, a foreign stint, names of large corporations on his resume, decent grades (to show for all the sacrificed dates)

The stars remain but they seem to be covered by dark clouds of exasperation every now and then. Dude, when he walked into a much revered MNC post his “MBA”, one offer out of three, had a chip on his shoulder. He wore the badge of is achievement with pride. He then came to the realization that the there is a world which is very antagonistic to change, to high-sounding degrees.

Dude, often found himself lost and dazed in the labyrinth of an “empowered workplace” and woke up to the power of “personal equations”. He screamed, beat his chest and asked himself “Did I put in so much time, effort and money just to realize that in the workplace there’s a lot of sucking up to do?”. Dude asked himself ‘Do I need to embody the spirit of the vacuum cleaner in order to realize my dreams?’.

It is then that it struck dude that his definition of dreams was faulty. It is then that the true worth of his ‘education’ came forth in a moment of shining revelation and absolute clarity dawned. Dude remembered an exercise that he went through while in school. Asked to write a eulogy firstly the way dude would like to be remembered and then as his best friend (would write with utmost honesty). The way dude wrote his own eulogy would then be what he really wanted to be, and his friend’s speech would be what he really had been. There was a gap. There often is with all of us (provided we are honest).

Often we take a path only to realize much later that we were chasing a mirage all along. It is often too late to turn back. Getting into the rat-race is easy. It is unforgiving and there rarely is a return. B-school didn’t teach me to be another jockey in the ‘rat race derby’, it taught me to realize my FULL potential. Problem with most of us is that our definition of ourselves, of FULL is confined to the workplace; at least our ‘professional life’ is the largest contributor/parameter of self-appraisal.

Dude wants to be a good professional but not at the cost of being a good human being, a responsible son, a trustworthy friend, a fun guy to be with. Dude wants to read his books; wants to write his silly articles; wants to kid himself that he’s pretty good at watercolors; wants to imagine a deafening applause when he belts out classics in the shower; dude wants to take pleasure in the small things in life.

Dude has finally ‘arrived’ in life.