Join the Gang...

The gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages; the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage; neither our wisdom nor our learning; neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. 

Robert Kennedy

It takes a politician to get the economist to see a saint. I think it’s a lovely quote. Like a perfect politicians quote. It takes something that everyone knows and misunderstands and then wraps a lovely story about what it is not and then completely drives it to the ground by measuring it against something it wasn’t meant to measure.

Gross national product or the GNP. I remember being in an interview once in my B school. I think it was a summer internship with Shoppers Stop. Shoppers Stop was a coveted item in my B school. One of the few companies that was respected in college and wanted to recruit from us. In the interview they had asked me what my favorite subject was. I had practiced the answer in my head. Economics. I knew that one. So great, what’s the difference between GDP and GNP. Huh? Nopes. I did not know that one. I suspect neither did the interviewer. No, I don’t have a story in where I gave an amazingly false answer and got through. I was rejected and failed to get through. How can you like economics and not know this basic difference. Hah!

I remember walking out and then later asking my friend who was an economics post grad.. so what’s the difference. He knew this and answered PAT. It went something like this ‘the GDP (gross domestic produce) is the worth of all the goods and services of Indian and foreign nationals residing in India while the GNP measures the same of all Indian nationals across the world. I haven’t forgotten that in 19 odd years, but I admit that I had to check the internet to ensure that I hadn’t gotten it wrong.

But still, much as I think the quote is completely out of context with GNP left defending what it was not meant to protect, I still love it. Yes, the infatuation for GNP number is possible stupid when you see only one number and try and measure it as a means to know your success. Economics is much different than that. There are various indicators that we must look at but I think GDP or GNP, or both together are still by far the most important numbers for an economist to track to get a fair first idea of the countries well being. Then the next could possibly be the Gini Coefficient. This one measures the inequality in the country. So while you are a great economy and produce truck loads of everything, the Gini coefficient help you understand the difference between making money and spreading it to everyone in your economy. If the Gini coefficient doesn’t improve with the GDP number, you are basically screwing yourself over by creating possibly a class divide in the country and possibly your country smacks of croony capitalism! Then you look at happiness indicators (which are as dumb or as smart as the surveys designed), or other metrics such as mortality, education, womens well being etc.

My favorite over the years is the simple metrics of how a society treats its women is possibly in my mind the best indicator of how a community or a society will develop. Keeping women out of the ambit of decision making, management and general freedom will doom a society faster than anything else. Since 25 years I have been seeing how women are moving the needle in India. From my batch of MBAs that passed out I see a smaller number of them working. Now I see more and more women who take career as a serious choice and not something that they have to do just to pass some time before motherhood takes its toll. They are taking active decisions and are part of the entire spectrum of the work force. I see women who are far more confident now than they were ever before. They move out and take their decisions. You meet some of them on the field and you can see that they are smarter, sharper and more confident of themselves.

It will take a generation for things to change and for a country as a whole, it will take a couple more. Culture is a huge thing and it takes time to change. There must be enough impetus, heros, role models and constant hammering for change to happen.

Today in the morning one the highway I saw a couple walking, with the male having his hand around the women. What was striking was that the couple belonged to a lower income demographic. Normally, this is not done. Earlier only the rich and the famous would do that (when I was growing up), then the young and the happening (like us in college), then it filtered down slowly. And finally – I see the young from a lower demographic doing it like the rich! Now the culture is changing. It takes  a lot. First it has to be cool and desirable behavior and then it gets caught in on popular culture icons, like movies and TV serials, then it moves down and vast. I remember seeing Haridwar many years ago and remarking that the kids from the villages seem to be wearing jeans and the girls are wearing it as well. These girls will grow up wearing jeans and change the lives for themselves and for their families as well.

Women must be encouraged to stand up and manage themselves. They possibly need a little help from the rest of society to help them integrate more easily, but then the sops must be slowly withdrawn. We don’t want them to be softened, we want them as one. No difference. Part of it all.

One small thing I managed to pull off. At Matunga Gymkhana, we are a bunch of men trying to manage the gymkhana. That’s because the rules are stupid. When a family takes membership, it takes it in the primary member’s name and then everyone else in the family joins in. The membership is taken as a single person but mentally everyone takes it as a family. Since the membership is the basis for eligibility for official posts, we have a situation where the management is all male affair. And it stinks. At least when the new restaurant was being designed, I managed to plant a seed in the minds of the powers that be to swap the loos. Give the bigger ones to the women. Surely they require more space. They need atleast two commodes and a lot of space to dress. We men just need a piss pot, one commode and a half mirror. We can manage just right. This got done and I think generations of women will not know who to thank for this small change in their lives at the Gymkhana.

Now my next one – to introduce an amendment that allows spouse of members to take official roles in the management of the Gymkhana. That would again go a long way in the long term management of the Gymkhana.  So the next time I have a suggestion from a woman, i can tell her, sure - we need people like you to help us do what you want us to do. Please join the gang! It will take time. but it will get there.

you win some... you lose some (sigh)

What a shit pot of a month. I have hardly had the time to write anything in the blog. Today has also been possible only due to the fact that I am in my other office one hour earlier than I am due. Part of me wanted to some in early purely because it gave me the chance to write something. And like most days – this too starts with random babbling without really knowing what I will write and where will I reach. The blog has been a process of self discovery taking me to the deep recesses of my mind that I wouldn’t have accessed otherwise.
Yesterday I got a chance to catch up with a collegue from the UK. We would have hardly met a few times. Possibly twice or thrice, but we have managed to build a decent relationship purely online. One of the few instances of building a sweet relationship within office collegues and that too long distance. Very rare. This lady got to know of my blog through my Facebook account and ended up following it regiularly. After my Facebook account got swamped by ‘friends’ and relatives (both mine and my wife’s) I got that bit of information removed from there. The last thing I want is my wife’s cousin coming up to me and saying – hey nice blog. Yuck. Sometimes it easier for strangers to know about you than acquaintances. Funny world. It’s a koan.
I have always been pretty open on the blog in the safe knowledge that idiots at office will not read. Some idiots will always know about it, get to know about it, but reading a blog regularly? Reading anything regularly? Hah! Shit pots don’t read anything. Even if it was shoved down their throats. My new team is no exception. No one who would really read. I find that queer that if your boss read so much and spoke at every opportunity about reading and from the books he read, then why would you still not take up. I recommend the right books, even told them this time that I would pay for it. But I guess it’s a losing war. That’s why I stopped lending books to anyone. They all want to borrow but no one, NO ONE wants to read anything.
How did I get to this rant? I was talking about this real sweet colleague of mine from London. Speaking to her this time, I was reminded about another sweet colleague at work. These sweet women have gotten this Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. They are really sweet people but have such a hard ball attitude at work. For both of these women whom I really like, when they talk about work, their back straightens, they lips pucker up, their natural smile goes away; the anger and firmness and tough attitude is palpable. Uff. I have always believed that in corporate life you slowly slowly lose your soul, or rather SELL your soul. You lose a part of you that is essential to you. You know it’s there buried in somewhere, the sweet good natured lady with a golden heart and a desire to love and be loved. Simple earthy desires. But dam, I feel so bad when the switch happens from love and laughs to anger and , and, should I say attitude.
So I try and always talk to them. Once a senior whom I respect once told me, that Jaimit, I have known you for 7 years now, the innocence you first had on your face is now lost. That’s when I realised it that ‘yes’, I too have been selling my soul. But I have been trying since then not to. To retain what is essentially me and don’t get sold to these slave traders. Easier said than done. Fighting these instincts every day to survive. At least I try to ensure that those I work with and something that I see worth saving, I do my bit to save.
I know I have no business to play Guru, but people have lost soul thanks to the people around them who make it imperative to do so. People will reward that behaviour and laud it to only reinforce it. I have decided never to encourage this. I will try my best to get these sweet people to be sweet. First thing I do is tell them that they are really sweet. And I love them for it. But more importantly I then try my best to behave in a manner that really brings out their sweet caring nature and refuse – fatly refuse to deal with them when they slip back. For some it works like a charm and for some... for some they have tipped over. Nothing I can do about it. They have lost the ability to trust anyone at work. They view with suspicion everything, everyone.
Well you lose some, you win some. But what gives the right to do this to people and take moral calls. Nothing. I have no right and no duty. But I feel love is an emotion worth saving. I am not good enough to spread love to all. I am only adequate to spread love to those I see with a glimmer of it. I cant fight them all but at least I can make a difference to a few who are receptive.
The colleague I met yesterday for breakfast was amazing. She is a lovely ‘girl’ when talking about food, her boyfriend, her desires and a tough nut tight ass when she talks about work. Wow! What will you do? Talk only about ... everything but office. Am I manipulating people. No. I am only attempting to show them what they are best at and what they actually are. Let down your mask, I mean no harm lady.
Why only ladies. I don’t know. Possibly I work/ relate better to ladies? I don’t know. Possibly the men switch easier. They let their guard down and get it up pretty fast with other men. The women have a process and possibly the flips are more polarised. I don’t know. But I sure seem to notice this more with women than men. Men bonding is different. Just a pat on the back and a common joke is enough to flip. I don’t know. Its worth a thought.
But these lovely sweet women make office life colourful. They have the capability to add so much love in office and change the workspace. They can actually be catalyst for a nice productive and caring office culture. As a boss, it is my duty to do it and spread a culture that I think allows people to go home with happiness in their heart. Hopefully it will eject all the counter cultures fast enough. People either start loving and start caring or just ship out.
One of things I have noticed is the anti Gandhi syndrome. Like Einstein said - Generations to come, it may be, will scarce believe that such a one as this, ever in flesh and blood, walked upon this earth. So many people wont believe a good thing even if they stare at it in the face. They don’t believe it if you are good to them. No can be, there had to be an ulterior motive. They seem to hate you if you are good. It only feeds their hate and anger. You are an ass and a pretence. No one can be sweet and good. It like all these who bash Gandhi. They refuse to believe the good in the world and best of all – I feel so many even refuse to see the good in their own hearts. So sad. But what to do. One starfish at a time....

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On another note – someone was asking me why I drive a hatch back (Hyundai i ten) and my wife drives a bigger sedan (Honda city)? Well my counter is that – my wife’s husband is a Head of marketing in a big bank, but I have no such luck.

It resurfaces time and again.

not just any dental date

A ha the fun of having a computer while roaming around. I started writing this post while waiting for the most mundane. I am outside my dentist’s clinic. Well it’s not like I am a regular at the dentist, so I can’t really call her ‘my’ dentist. In fact I can’t remember the last time I was at the dentist. Recently Jasmine had got her root canal done and it cost us a bomb. Root canals do cost a lot and jasmine cant go to the community dentists so she ended up going to a dental studio. She finds the hygiene standards at the community run clinics a bit dodgy. As for me, I am game for practically anything. I have very low hygiene standards and I am known to pick wafers off the floor, dust them or blow some air and eat them. You know that typical guy thing. I look at it as a more macho thing... something like it builds immunity. So keep having it. In any case , there is enough shit in the atmosphere so you are like going to get enough of your germs just like that. A few friendly ones you pick up from the floor or the around will only help you. Hah!
This dentist in any case was a special visit. My elders weren’t and aren’t on the best of terms so we cousins don’t end up meeting too often. My generation couldn’t care less for the property disputes of our elders. But thanks to that we have never been very close. Compund that with the fact that we stay nuclear and os we have even less functions to go to. So basically we are almost cut off from our gene pool. My immediate siblings never understood the fights that our uncles and aunties had and we swore never to let money come in the way ever. Never to let protocol come in the way as well. life is too short to bicker over lesser issues.
So while I was placed in nariman point I used to get to the train everyday and there happily enough I once saw what looked my niece. I wasn’t very sure till she came up and asked me ‘wasn’t I her jaimit kaka’. Err yes. That was fun. Everyday in the morning you get to meet your niece. She is a happy fun person and it was pretty cool talking to her. She was studying to be a dentist. She passed out a few years ago and has started practising in some clinic. So when yesterday I felt a bit of pain in my teeth I used the opportunity to catch up with my favourite niece. Disclaimer – given that I hardly know any of my other nieces, itnot a great achievement. Hah! That was written as while we were talking about the fact that I had my computer open, she figured I blog. I have never tried to popularise my blog. Its been an open but a quite thing. If you know about it then fine. Else even better. So as she said she would one read it, I thought I would be nice and mean to her. I am always mean to her and pulling her leg.
In fact she is 26 and like all happy Indian gujju households, her mom is after her to get married. I don’t understand this marriage scare business. What there to get scared of marriage and commitment? Well its obviously easy for me to say that, as I obviously found someone to get married to. But I got married at 23 and had a child by the time I was 27. It did seem a bit young but I loved it. Today at 35 I have an eight year old. Soon at 40 she should be 13 a mini adult and hopefully I won’t be old and fuddy duddy. I can run with her, play with her and hopefully compete with her. She has already smashed me in swimming. I am waiting to have her taekwondo and squash skills develop so that I can play that as well with her. it would be a bit difficult if I was a bit older.
So our poor dentist niece has a poor role model to look up to. She is not exactly enthused with the prospect of getting married and I keep telling many youths like her that its not that bad. Sometimes all I do is just explain the superficial behaviour they sometimes exhibit. Something like rejecting this guy as she speaks with a local accent or he wears a printed shirt or something. The tables have changed and how... I guess my mom would not have had much say in choosing her husband, but I am happy that we Indians are slowly allowing our daughter to have a greater say. I guess now the pressure is put not physically but emotionally to say yes to a guy of the parents liking. Nice.
So while she explained her exasperation at the various guys she was seeing and choosing from (all crap according to her) , I gently nudged her to a marriage portal. It’s an interesting disintermediation. When these portals made an appearance around a decade ago I thought they would be all sleaze and the last resort for old unmarried / divorced men and women. I started looking at it with a little more respect when I heard that one of my friends met his wife through this portal. Interesting. You see profiles, you approach, you chat a bit, you become facebook friends and then you meet up and figure. Cool nah. Its a bit like dating. And the parents are now open to this new concept as well. I met one lady who I interviewed some time ago. She said she is a maharashtrian who family was after her to get married. So she went online and registered herself and met this guy who was a gujarati. Then she set it up herself and met the guys and decided to get married. All this I came to know when I asked her if her marriage was love or arranged. And she said sort of love. If you see the story I kind of agree with her. is that within the definition of love marriage or arranged marriage. A new term needs to be invented for this stuff – loranged. That sounds a bit like deranged? How about Arrove. Ya... you arrange the match and then you love and then you marry.
Like I was telling my niece – go on and register yourself. See some male profiles, check them out. a bit like ‘body shopping’. In the traditional sphere the women used to feel like they are on display with the men coming in to meet and ‘grade’ them. Now the game is more equal I guess. Men and women have equal body shopping rights! Yay yay!
These are small steps to a new world. That’s why I have so much faith in the Indian dream playing out. Women – we haven’t factored the rise of the women in this economic dream. Their rise gives me great confidence.
So in the end my niece was disappointed. I had no reason for her to give me any degree of pain. My teeth were in fine form and my molars were well and truly filled with the old silver cavities long ago. There wasn’t much to fill in. No root canal that she could recommend and not even a teeny weeny cavity. She would get her revenge on some other day. Tada!

random noise generator

It’s easy to get used to a car in Mumbai. In Mumbai you have the option of getting jammed in a train or you can choose to get stuck in traffic in a bus. The train will kill you by an overdose of carbon dioxide from the stuffiness and the hordes of people crammed in and the bus will kill you by carbon monoxide from vehicular pollution. The single oxide bonding creates for a far more lethal gas and possibly the reason I prefer the train to the bus. While I was in nariman point, I happily took to the train as means of transport. Its frequency is better and it beats the vehicular pollution and the traffic jams. Travelling in bus is such a blackening experience.
Today the car went for servicing and Jasmine left me at Kings Circle for the bus. Waiting at the bus stop for the bus, all these years and nothing has changed. There still are no clear route maps explaining which bus will go through which route. The only thing that has changed is that the bus stops have gotten slightly better looking. This not necessarily better for the commuter, but better for the advertiser who uses the top of the bus stop as a hoarding. In my company we use them well and they sure are effective, but nowhere is the commuter brought into the equation. We could use the back of the bus stop as an effective communication tool about the bus routes. But in Mumbai, why bother? The technology to find out the route is as ancient as mankind. Ask the guy next to you or scramble around as the bus comes in to figure where the conductor is and shout ‘yeh worli jaayega’ (will it got o worli?). invariably the guy is in a tear away hurry and answers you as he rings the bell to signal the driver to move on. Today morning, it was especially difficult with all the windows closed as Mumbai is having a bit of a colder weather than usual. Nopes not cold, just colder than normal. So I was left at the bus stop with the knowledge than was ten years old. 85, 92 and 93 will go. I also remember a 90 numbered bus but that was no where to be seen. Possibly its discontinued or changed its route.
The roads are also supremely polluted and you can feel the pollution and dust hit you in the face as you wait at the bus stop. All it takes is a vehicle running past at full speed on the main road for it to sand blast your face with unburnt carbon. Luckily my bus came in soon enough and I was able to get a relatively empty looking bus. There seems to have been a spate of reservations done on the bus. Now there are around ten seats reserved for ladies and three for the handicapped and another six (I think) for the old. I was always fundamentally opposed to reservations for women and I feel they probably need to be treated on par with men. I understand old and handicapped for sure. But these reservations have also have more questions. When there are reservations, is it right for the women to sit in the non reserved seats. Shouldn’t the man insist on getting that seat? But those are simple practicalities and I probably should not really wonder too much about them. But what I do hate is what happened.
In the past I have sat unknowingly in the women’s seat when they were first introduced. It’s not like you can’t sit there. You just have to get up if a woman comes in and asks for her seat. But the women have been so rude and have demanded that you get up. First up. no request, no smile, just a rude ‘get up’. this tim ei was sitting in the senior citizens seat. One guy came in and to my luck asked the guy seated in front of me to get up. Again not too politely. He got up immediately. I too got up to ask him to sit at my seat but he sat in front in any case. I could hear the guy next to him (senior citizen) tell the newly seated guy that ‘see people just don’t understand’. What the hell yaar. It completely pissed me off. The poor guy got up without a fuss. You really expect the seat to be empty and people to stand while there is an empty seat. Soon enough a lady (oldish but not a senior citizen) was standing next to me. None of the women who were younger offered her a seat from the ladies seat. I got up and offered her mine. In any case I did not want to be berated by and older man who might come along. So I stood happily. It’s easier standing when you have to make the journey only once in a while. If you have to do it every day you might want to box some of the people’s head. I can still understand the older men. They tend to get cranky with age but I see no excuse with the women.
Impolite, disrespectful and full of themselves. Just a massive pain in the neck. Expecting preferential treatment and concern and then turning on their own ilk with ease. I have immense respect for the women workforce in the country. As I interview for people I see that women are much smarter and better than men. Possibly the huge pressure that they fight at home and at the workplace, makes for an efficient sieve, ensuring that only the very best survive. Whatever the cause, but I see them working brilliantly, shoulder to shoulder and not succumbing to pressure. Women have in them to be equal to men. Only if they rise above the condescending acts that society puts them through. Special considerations, reservations etc. They must fight them and actively resist them. Only by resisting them will they show the men that they are equal, that they cannot be discriminated against. I see it happening in India. At least I see it happening where I work. At least at these levels, middle management and lower, I see no discrimination in pay or work. They earn for their work done and are equal to any man at their level. I see India changing.
Girls are growing up to wear pants. I see this change even in small town India. Pants / jeans are a big leap for them. They will grow up to be more independent minded than what their mothers were. Slowly their fathers will grow accustomed to them being equal. Like some research that shows that cable and satellite penetration showed a big correlation to women welfare, I too believe that this impacts what women are “allowed” to wear and then it manifest in changing mindsets. For themselves and others. Also if they treat each other with a little more respect, in busses and in trains and treat others with confidence (I am assuming their rudeness towards men comes from insecurity), they would move a lot further than they are currently.
I have always wanted to treat Jispa as equal as a boy. In fact sometimes Jasmine thinks I am making her grow up as a boy. But I think that’s the way it must be. No special considerations as a girl. You fall down and if a boy is expected not to cry then a girl must not as well. She is going to grow up in a place where men and women will be treated the same, will be expected to be treated on par. Then why must she be any weaker? If you believe in yourself then the world be bend over and believe in you. No self doubt and no self pity. I was just explaining to Jispa the other day. I don’t remember what she said but I said. No self pity. No feeling sorry for yourself. Don’t think that shit is only happening to you. Stand up tall and deliver. Shit happens. Get up and no self pity. She got it at the time. She even used it in another context and asked me ‘isn’t that self pity’. Yup. That’s the way. When shit happens, as it will, you can’t get down and cry but you have to get up and see what you can do about it. At the very least laugh. Shit man.
On the singing bit – we told Jispa that of all the things we can’t teach her to sing. Sorry Jispa. And yesterday, she was obviously not selected for the singing contest. She was woefully out of tune. When I spoke to her in the night, she did not seem at all disappointed. That’s cool. At least I am relieved. Training her in something I have zilch expertise in was creating tremendous pressure on me. I could see her mistakes but under no circumstance could I have known how to correct her. Whoops.