what do you think about it?

"The new identity builds on and expands the foundation of investment expertise that we have created over decades. It has been crafted in line with the organization’s philosophy and endeavor to continuously unearth value and create a brand association in line with changing consumer paradigms. Against the backdrop of the global financial crisis, which completely altered the way financial institutions across the globe will function, we have recognized the shift in the Indian consumer's mood, orientation and mindset."

This is something I came across in my random surfing. What does it say… probably nothing. This is something we marketers put inside a press release and send it out to newspapers that end up carrying it. Most of the time they just paste it as is. No insight, no analysis. Monkey food. Look at the quote closely. It is about a brand with a new tag line. Does it help the brand? Does it give any insight into the reason for the change in line? You could take that paragraph and put it into any dam press release and no one would know. No one. I promise you. Whose fault is it? The PR person who drafted the release or the boss who had nothing to say? Both I guess. To use an old hindi one – taali donno haath se bajti hai. You need two hands to clap.

I many times see the insular nature of people as they move to the top. I had a bit of time to reflect on this as I was getting my shoes polished. The cobbler under the building take s around ten minutes to polish your shoes. He charges ten bucks but he keeps scrubbing your shoes. I realized that he would take quite some time soon enough. He had a decently clean shack and so I sat on seat made by the stones, next to him. Some peons of my office came to get their shoes repaired and were quite amused to see me happily sitting there. As the guys get senior they have access to peons and the workforce to do things for them. They come in AC cars, fly in planes, drink in five star joints and sit inside their cabins. They eat on their own and work on their own. Not too many guys venture outside their comfort zone. It’s funny how insular we can get. We then lose track of reality and how the world actually is…no wonder our insights are so bloody insular. The functional heads don’t meet customers, don’t really listen, don’t ask questions and generally give a miss to research happening around. I have seen this happen in every organization and at all levels. Even marketing managers commission research and then leave it to the agency to figure and present the findings in an air conditioned meeting room with butter biscuits. I have never understood why commercials are shown on a big screen in a darkened room with superior sound. Is that how most of your clients / customers going to see it? Their rooms are likely to have enough ambient noise and lighting. Simulate a home with the given distractions and show it on a 21 inch non flat TV. Now please tell what you think about it? Feedback please

daddy dearest

It is easily the most thankless job in the world. It ranks higher than sewer cleaners and marketing managers at financial firms. It is the job of waking up your kid for school. I can’t think of any job that is more necessary but is more despised by the beneficiary than this. As kids get older this gets tougher. They want to sleep more and more. They get even more lazy in the morning and even more ‘frowny’. But hell it’s a dog’s… oops a dad’s life and someone’s got to do it.
Wakey wakey wakey….
I too hated being made to get up and we were three kids. I don’t really blame my mother for screaming…. GET UP… mothers tend to be busy, hassled and on a short fuse in the morning. Jasmine so far has been quite patient. But I guess that’s because every day waking Jispa every day has been my job. I want to see Jasmine patient if she has to wake up Jispa every morning. It can be testing.

image-ination

Jispa was unwell and upset at having to miss school. I was taking her photo and she was avoiding getting shot. This is what we get...

Today is friendship day or something. Jispa's bus friend (as pictured) ties me a friendship band, 'uncle, I got a band for you as well' she said after tying one to Jispa. Gee thanks...

Coffee with cream. So sinful and so tasty. good thing my metabolism allows me these sins.

The Landmark store at pune. Landmark sure has an awesoem collection of books. Interestingly the giftwrapping is done by the security lady. A tough lady with deft hands. She wraps pretty neat. Even my wife was impressed. Jasmine does have very high standards.

Me and Dinesh. I couldnt have posed any more filmy!

awwww......

whew, that was close

Today I was in an office of ours in the morning. That office was in the process of moving as well. So there were boxes everywhere getting packed. As usual like everyone else, this too was a time for spring cleaning. An essential part of spring cleaning is shredding. You tend to accumulate papers by the kilo till you have to move on and then you are inclined them. While I was roaming around one office peon was assigned to shred tons of paper in one of the conference rooms. Nothing unsual. But suddenly something on his table caught my eye. There were two books – Search by John Battelle and Leadership by the Book by Ken Blanchard. I asked him what these were for. To shred he said. My eyes popped out and my heart skipped a beat. SHRED THESE? The Search is easily amongst the best book on search engines there is today. It well written, analysed and informative. It made me think and changed by outlook towards search. It is easily amongst the top books I have read. Ken Blanchard is a prolific writer. Normally I shun away from such books. I kind of like to call these self help for dummies who don’t know commonsense. But I have a read a few of Ken’s books and I found them to be good. I was surprised my self and it did take some amount of ego eating to say – they are actually good. Rare for a management book to be commonsense, basic, easy and good. Ken has that art. He does talk sense. So I asked the peon if he was sure he had to shred these. He said he had already shred one. Oh god! No matter how bad the book I would never be able to shred one. Even Snowball is still lying in my cupboard. The worst of all - give it to someone else. Let someone else figure what to do with it. Give it for free at eth nearest signal to the book seller. He might figure out a way to sell it to someone else. How can you shred a book? How? The book was not even opened. It’s a good thing I rescued those babies from imminent danger. Just in time.

school blues

Jispa had been a bit under the weather on Monday. Jasmine was called into school to take Jispa back as she had fever. As she realized that she was going to miss more than one day at school, Jispa was in tears. She loves going to school every day. We always dread when she gets unwell as we don’t know how we are going to get her to stay back at home. Wow. I wish I had her schooling. I went to what was at the time a decent school. It surely had a large play ground. But I guess I never did very well adjust to schooling. We satyed in Dubai till third standard and then moved into Mumbai post the fourth. It was quite a cultural shock. Dubai being Dubai was rich, opulent and full of all eth lovely things in the world such as Pepsi, Chewing gum and amazing chocolates. India was a poor country in 1984. With only Doordarshan channel one, Bata shoes, kissme toffee bars and Cadbury chocolates. It was far too disturbing for us kids than we could handle. 1984 was no where near what we have today.
Whenever we came in from Dubai for a vacation to India, we were royalty. We were aliens wearing foreign clothe eating foreign goods. It was amazing that India was so insular at the time. Every Indian would stare at us looking at all the stuff denied to him. There was practically nothing available here for any kind of consumption. Our shoes and jackets were objects of desire. The only chips I remember eating here was something called Simba chipnicks which were packed in flimsy transparent plastic pouches. Coming back to stay in India was one hell of a cultural shock.
From a school (Indian high School) which had 30 students in a classroom with two air conditioners and four fans to a school (Don Bosco) that had 60 plus students with four fans, no air-conditioning and a very wet monsoon to herald the new year. Yes it was tough adjusting. We siblings shifted in 84 with our parents coming in a year later after winding up our home there. We got in tons of goods in what was popularly known as TR (transfer of residence). In this scheme you could get in tons of foreign goodies into India, including tape recorders, foodstuff, a car, clothes, assorted electronics etc. I remember mom and dad tying to the get the consignment passed at the customs. We sold some and kept some.
So we were still living the foreign dream for a few years after (till stocks last or you outgrow them). We did not lose anything to obsolescence. Partly because things weren’t improving at a fast pace and what we had was so bloody modern by India’s standards that it took a while for India to catch up to that level. So we lived in the shadow of Dubai being no land’s children.
My dad was awesome. I never seen him complain or make a fuss about it. We never felt him to be unhappy about the shift. In Dubai he drove around a Toyota crown, in India he was happy to roam around in our brand new Bajaj Chetak scooter with a side car attached. That he had got delivery of the much in demand scooter by paying foreign exchange. Else you get it after an obscene waiting time. I think it was a year or two for a scooter and up to 5 to 7 years for a car. Chetak was not even given out easily I think. You could only buy the humble Bajaj Super. I think Bajaj might have been doing a public service or charity of sorts by advertising. With a wait list like that who needs advertising.
Schooling was stressful for me for sure. Every monsoon I would fall ill and I never did adjust to the change in weather. This continued well into college where I finally developed some resistance of any sort. The favorite illness was sore throat.
Add to that the really irritating bunch of teachers who didn’t care too much for the students. It’s unfair to say all were bad. Some were awesome and really stood apart from the crowd. I remember Ms Beatrice, Ms Marina, Ms Clare being really sweet and some nasty ones that did not think twice before slapping us. The slap was bad. That was humiliating and irritating. It created more anger than anything else. Patel sir, the PT sir once got the whole class to stand still while he went about given one whack on the bum to each and everyone of us with a hockey stick. I remember that hurting a lot but I remember that as fun. It’s the slap that was hit that hurt. The hockey stick was for some reason bearable. Years after while I was doing my summers I met a senior guy who was from my school as well. He too remembered the teachers slapping and hated it.
I was telling Jispa that my teachers used to hit us and slap us. She was listening in all amazement. She has been living a fairy tale for now.
All in all school was not happening for me. I finally figured it around the 9th and 10th standard. I guess by then we were truly Indians in all sense. We might have run out of our Dubai security blankets/ blings and I think I was getting some of my confidence back. Hell in 10th standard I was even made monitor of the class. But my crowning moment was actually in the 9th when I won the ‘second best actor award’. I knew I was good at acting and I did not mind losing first place as I believed it was partiality at play. Who knows who cares? I loved it and my play was a really funny play titled ‘the watermelon cure’. I used to take part in all extra-curriculars as it meant bunking class for practice. Awesome!
But today as I look back, I don’t really miss school nor do I blame them. That was the best school around at the time. Just that we hadn’t as a nation removed our blinkers and opened ourselves to the changes happening around. We too were guilty of being in a time warp. I am happy that I was baler to balance the equation before I hit college. Hence actually between the school and college, for some reason I prefer my college life. That I met my life there and went through five years with her by my side must have been an important factor. That was an era of India opening up. 91 to 96… but then that is another story or should I say another blog entry.

give up on it

A ha… an issue which I have pondered on many times before. When do you realize that the book is a lost cause. When you do realize it what do you do? At what point do you give up? I came across this article that hopes to point some direction to my predicament.
An interesting thumb rule propounded:
The "Deduct Your Age from 100 and Read That Many Pages before Giving Up on a Book" rule. The older you get, the less inclined you are to waste your time on something that doesn't grab you.
Some other stuff that caught my eye wherein a former teacher muses, "I often wonder if people who are turned off by being forced to read books they do not like then become nonreaders later on." A no less august reader than Samuel Johnson declared, as Mr. Cowen quotes in his book, "A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good."
Very true. I think I could never read certain books, especially if they are expected of me to read them as a text book. “The pressure of reading is so detrimental to the process of reading it”… there I go again making clever sounding isms. But at least now I know why took to reading so late in my life. I really started reading regularly in the last five odd years. But now it’s an unshakeable habit.
One particular book which was a mammoth tomb was Snowball. It is an autobiography of Warren Buffet. Really really sad book. There was no insight into the man’s brain. When you have an investor who became the richest man in the world and is known for his wit and incisive wisdom, the book come across frigid. Absolutely no insight in the man’s wisdom and really very boring. Unauthorized analysis of his wisdom in the many books that have been produced contain much more. The book goes on and on. At some points I had to simply skim through the pages while simply turning a large amount. Horrible. I think this is one book that deserves to be thrown out of the window as one good deed for the day. Though my philosophy has always been – even the worst book in the world can teach you something – you will at least know what you hated about it
On another note, I don’t know how reading will evolve over the next few years. There are tons of blogs and sites out there that one would like to constantly read and be updated through. While I was surfing I came across an interesting quotation. “The first half of our lives is ruined by our parents, and the second half by our children” -Clarence Darrow. Hahhaha. Sorry mom dad and Jispa. But I really find this one funny.
And on another note I found an interesting question - what would happen to the demand for tea if there was a health scare regarding coffee? It is not that easy to answer. Think about it.

oooooo angel eyes...

My brother and his wife suddenly announced one day that they brought home a puppy. They named him something. After a few weeks when they went to the vet they realized that they had got the naming all wrong. He was a she. Oops. Let rename her Angel. An angel she is. What was that word again… portentous…? Yes. The most amazing dog in the world. An absolutely beautiful dog with the least amount of attitude. She genuinely loves having her friends around. There is a lot you can do with her and you can play with her as you like. While she was growing up I loved running with her. I dare say I don’t race her anymore. She is sleek and fast. The only thing is that she does not like other dogs too much. She has a limited circle of friends.
She is the one who initiated Jispa in and more importantly Jasmine into dogs. Earlier jasmine used to run away from any living creature. Especially dogs that … lick!! Yuccckkkk. I couldn’t care less. Jispa didn’t know whom to follow. Slowly she realized through her kaki that dogs have a cute side to them. Jasmine now realized the futility of avoiding the dreaded licking. I love getting licked on the nose by Angel. Jispa almost gets knocked over by her when Angel jumps and reaches for Jispa’s nose.
But it is a beautiful relationship they share. Angel has beautifully contributed to Jispa’s growing up. I guess thanks to her, Jispa is less aversive to dogs and more importantly other animals as well. The power of a sibling in your child’s growth?

There are not many dogs that I know of that allow me to do this to them. She is truly part of teh family
And if she had a theme song I would put my buck on ‘angel eyes’

Random musings of a man who might have found the 'theory' to happiness...

There seems to be a clear trade off between being big and being good. Why is growth a given. Can we choose not to grow and instead focus on values that are close to our hearts? Is it possible to have a simple life and choose not to grow? Is it possible for a company to stay where they are and refuse the opportunity to grow? We tend to judge success by outward size. We tend to believe that size is the only thing that matters. When I look at my career and look with some satisfaction at what I might have achieved / not achieved, what matters? The size of my pay packet, the size of my desk, my team, what? When a company grows larger and larger chasing growth, how do you judge it? The size of its sales, employee force, balance sheet, what?
Whenever I think about this and go home all disturbed, I see my daughter, my wife. The answer is right there… blowing in the wind… (Sorry couldn’t resist that one). Too many businesses pursuing growth and expansion, when they should be pursuing happiness and satisfaction. What is the matrix of human achievement at the end of it all? Happiness and satisfaction. Can growth give you that? This is not meant to be rhetoric.
The point of satisfaction is different for different people. Some will never stop. They are the Chasers. They create jobs, money and income for all. They are valuable for the advance of society as we know it. The ones that see a point and stop are the Anchors. They bring happiness and content to our lives. They bring solidity and support. They help balance the energy. The perfect yin and yan of our lives. As always one must not impose on the other. Families typically do well to have a mix of both in their lives. The Anchor role is typically played by the older and the Chaser role by the younger. Allowing for both philosophies to exist might be an important part of family life. As families get nuclear the importance of retaining this balance is even more important.
Friends play a large role in this as well. We at different points of our lives oscillate between the two. Chase, Anchor. After running like a plucked chicken all day, one recognizes and appreciates the calming influence of a friend who quietly listens and slows down the pace. When being down and out, a friend who encourages you to be up and doing is being the Chaser. You could be a Chaser one moment and an Anchor the next. I doubt if there are people who sit only on one side of the fence, never to traverse the other side.
Understanding that there is a Chaser and an Anchor in you is an interesting part of your self understanding. Realizing that these opposites can exist and that you willfully allow them to exist as well is important. Choosing when to allow which beast to run is THE ART.
While the twains coexist, at a point of decision you must choose. You cannot straddle the middle line. Yes, no or at the best abstain. You may wait till you have the time but given the time for choice a firm choice must be made either way. We face irritation when we do not release that we want to be both. I somehow visualize Tarzan here. He swings from one vine to another. Picture this, Tarzan swinging from one vine holds another and does not let go of either. He is pretty much stuck. Quite a funny picture. I could not resist drawing this. It is a vivid picture in my mind.

I am sure is this position he would be feeling pretty ‘stuck’. Let go of one.

While I say ‘let it go’... a tune got stuck in my head… let it go, let it go, let it go… I kept searching for it and I couldn’t find it anywhere. Till I realized I had got my words and tune mixed up. I was humming – let it snow let it snow let it snow… sure enough… I got it… here you are a Dean Martin classic I assume. I love the tune. And I still like singing… let it go let it go let it go.

untested by faith?

Well of all things in the morning I got going, through my feeds, on the topic of faith and religion. It is always a contentious topic where some things that work for one need not work for the other. The contention starts when one starts imposing the will or the rather should I say belief of one on another. I have remained fairly neutral on this, especially in open forums. Religion to me is a private choice. It must not be imposed not argued. I take no sides. I try and remain core to my beliefs. At the simplest if I attempt to code it, it might read thus - Try and not hurt, try and help. I have made some noises to the effect in my earlier blogs as well.
Being a parent puts even more stress on one’s belief. What I do is what Jispa will learn to follow. The second last thing I want to teach her is a reliance on a religion. The last thing I want to teach her is absence of faith. How do I reconcile the two within her, within us? The answer is not so straight forward. It is difficult on yourself to codify your beliefs in a manner that your six year old can understand them. I would like her to have a right to question belief. To choose what she thinks is right from her perspective. Above all, I want her to choose something, not because her parents have chosen, but she herself has found something that rings some bell inside of her. The belief must be strong enough to help her when she needs it and flexible enough to accommodate the many inconsistencies that she will encounter as she grows up. It must be able to expand and to allow for opposites to remain reconciled. It must never draw her into an argument but allow to accept others for they are and for what they stand for.
I don’t know how we are doing it. It does help that we have Jispa. She seems to be accepting abstractions and apparent vagueness pretty well. I love it when I say “I don’t know, no one knows and what you think works for you is what works for you”. She thinks a bit. She is quiet, absorbing not refuting. Then the penny drops after due consideration, not blind obeisance. That’s my girl. My mom tells me that I am teaching her to argue. Well I probably am. Anyone read this book – The Argumentative Indian. I am teaching plurality of right.
While jumping tabs I came across two awesome videos that capture similar messages quite well.

This one captures the my belief in scientific thought



This one captures the my belief in religious thought



Do note I am not an atheist. I have faith in faith. It’s only more internal. Thanks Jasmine. You might not know but our faith has evolved thanks to you and me together. I owe a lot of this to you.
Once I had shown my kundli (horoscope) to someone while we were in college. The astrologer predicted that I would not have a love marriage. I was a bit downcast. Jasmine asked me “do you really believe in this?” I said “no, not really”. With her characteristic matter of fact tone she replied “then why do you go to them?” I never did afterwards. I never did.

oh kaalia, I read your mind?

I have no clue but a colleague suddenly turns up on gtalk and knows I blog and reads it regularly. One day we were having a conversation on my earlier blog. I thought it merited being reproduced here. For sake of everyone around I hide ID. No one really knows who is searching for what tehse days and what can be used against / for you. So in spite of a willing bakra I have decided to withhold ID. But thank you for this conversation and think for encouraging me to write. It does means a lot. Some day Jispa might read all this and smile. Mission Accomplished.

This is about the kaalia blog and if you read this you will understand the meaning of that vague blog. I had meant to write the meaning of this someday but would have forgotten if not for this conversation with this colleague.

--id withheld--: hey do you have 2 minutes
jaimit: i have
but not for you
--id withheld--: :(
okay 1 min
for me#
jaimit: ok done.. only for BD
--id withheld--: whst the hell is o kaalia i read your mind..
jaimit: abhi bol?
heheheheheheheheh
hahhahahahahaha
hohohohohohoh
--id withheld--: i got a headache thinking abt it
jaimit: it is a philosophy
do you really wanna know?
--id withheld--: enlighten me o great one
jaimit: hahahha
ok.. its is from a amarchitrakatha story
--id withheld--: go on...
jaimit: once a fellow sees someone tell a poem to the king
the king gives him gold. seeing this our hero decides to write poetry himself
his wife tells him to get inspiration
so he thinks and thinks
then he gets tired and is fed up of his wife's taunt
so he goes to the lake and tries to drown
the lake has cold water
he starts shivering
he thinks it must be inpiration and then tries heis hand at [poetry
the only thing he sees is a crow
the crowis dipping his beak in the water and sharpening
he then coins the wrds "you dip it in the water and sharpen it again and again ... o kalia i read your mind
then he goes to the king
he tells this to the king
the darbar is silent
the king thinks that no one comes to my court and gives silly gyan.. this must be some deep meaning behind it
so he keeps the man with the gaurds an d spends some days thinking about it.
one day in the morning the king is about to get his beard shaved by the rooyal barber.
the barber is sharpening his blade....
the king to himself remarks
"you dip it in the water and sharpen it again and again... o kaalia i read your mind'
while he says it absent mindedly the barber thinks he is telling him
the barber puts down his blade and asks the king for forgiveness
the king wonders what is going on..
the barber confesses - i was given a bribe by the neighborhood kingdom to kill you... but you already know of my intention...
i am kaalia the barber... i am sorry
--id withheld--: aha
jaimit: so the king feels that the man who wrote the poem is no ordinary man
but actually a prophet
the man goes home with a lot of money
his wife is surprised and happy to see him
" you dip it in the water and sharpen it again and again... o kaalia i read your mind"
there - now you know
the fun thing is that my bro and sis know of the story and the line
and almost no one else
so whenever we say it none understands but we know the gibberish for its worth - gibberish
so we laugh and laugh and the other guy wonders what is so funny
that makes us laugh again.
--id withheld--: aha..
jaimit: hahahahahah
hohohoho
hehehehhe
--id withheld--: this is a good one
jaimit: yes it is
and extremely irritating of you don’t know what
--id withheld--: will try it on a few friends
jaimit: hahahhaahha
and its not even there on the internet
--id withheld--: i wanted to catch hold of you on sunday so i know what the hell it is
jaimit: the only thing that comes up if you search for it is --- guess what?
--id withheld--: what?
jaimit: MY BLOG!!!!!
--id withheld--: ha ha ha
jaimit: why you wanted to catch me on sunday?
--id withheld--: to know what the hell this meant
jaimit: what did you think
some deeeeeeeep meaning/
--id withheld--: absolutely not!
jaimit: on a philosophical level - it actually stands for something
--id withheld--: Jaimit=deep meaning is not possible
jaimit: heheheheh
i love you for hating me
--id withheld--: yes... why not!
jaimit: it is a prophetic kind of phrase
it shows that people take meaning from what is relevant to them
even the stupidest of things hold meaning and value
--id withheld--: trust you to actually give meaning to something like that...
jaimit: have you read the KRA ISE that company sends out
--id withheld--: attempted to.. but never succeeded
to read KRA Ise
jaimit: sometimes i put in nonsense words in the copy
words that mean nothing
but none ever finds out
they get their meaning out of it
including the top to the bottom most employee
you must have read my blogpost where brahma says ' da'
--id withheld--: yes
jaimit: do you remember it?
--id withheld--: i never understood what that meant
jaimit: remember it
--id withheld--: and then something about da da dum or something like that
jaimit: no..
--id withheld--: i do remember the brahma says da thing
jaimit: and the different people, gods and asuras think differently what it means
they get their meaning from it
--id withheld--: yes..
trying to find the damn thing
jaimit: http://jaimit.blogspot.com/2009/06/da-email.html
got it
--id withheld--: ah yes
it was quite nice
now i remember
jaimit: like the nonsense i write for my daughter
--id withheld--: i remembered your little poem in the end
jaimit: she likes it for it is
--id withheld--: so do i :)
jaimit: one could like it for it can be
Dum chik chick bum bumWhat a funny bum bumWhy have you bum bumWhen there is only one bumDum chik chick bum bum
--id withheld--: ha ha
jaimit: it is actually a philosophy question
why do you need two when you need one
--id withheld--: oh dear lord!
jaimit: there is a reason why the spelling of chik is different - chick and chick
chik
--id withheld--: because a chick has one bum
jaimit: no no
--id withheld--: ha ha
then why
jaimit: there are two - bum bum
otherwise the question will be
why two bum bum and why two chick chick
now the only question is that chick and chik is different but bum bum is two
when there is only one bum why two?
--id withheld--: all the very best to Jispa
jaimit: you read that piece on bob dylan
--id withheld--: yes
that was nice
i had just heard th song that day
jaimit: people were thinking too much into the peorty
--id withheld--: so good coincidence
jaimit: what is that answer in the wind
there isnt too much beyond it..
all he is saying is that the answer is in the wind.. simple
but we cant understand it - it can be that simple
--id withheld--: yes sometimes people want complicated answers
jaimit: i purposely like giving innocuously simple lines
those that can twisted into complication
--id withheld--: things too simple sometimes hold no value for people
jaimit: but they really do mean nothing more than what they are
ecjactly
--id withheld--: :)
jaimit: the meaning is - there is no meaning but there could be....
if you want it so be it!
--id withheld--: hmmm....
jaimit: i am thinking about putting this conversation on the blog

showers

Life has hit routine. Sleep by 10 – 10.30. Wake up alarm at 5.55 am then snooze a bit, then shut the alarm and sleep a bit. Get out of bed by 6.10. Brush, and then get Jispa up. Wakey wakey wakey… Spend at least 5 -10 minuets coercing her to get up. Coerce her? Let’s look up the dictionary – coerce - to cause to do through pressure or necessity, by physical, moral or intellectual means. Yup, coerce is perfect. I use all means mentioned above as well as some more. Then get her to the bathroom and give her a bath. Its good fun to give her a bath every day. When we recently did the plumbing in the bathrooms, we kept a rain shower (pretty cool thing that) in one bathroom and I got my self a good replacement on the hand shower in the other. There was no way I was going to get an overhead shower in both the bath rooms. When I am giving Jispa a bath, the hand shower is perfect for use as a hose. It’s easier and much more fun for me. She practically wakes up in the shower. Then drying her, a big hug and its time for mommy to take over. Breakfast and out to the bus stop. Thanks to this I reach office at 8 am. A full 90 minutes before official time. It’s a good thing I got my RSS feeds and two newspapers to read.

While on the showers… the builders had given us really silly hand showers that sprayed water all over the bathroom. We had to do something to it. The catalyst for change was a lovely bath I had at my friend’s house under the overhead shower. It was pretty cool thing. So we decided to get one at our house as well. The shop I went into was a fittings store at Matunga. He sold stuff from Jaguar bath fittings. Not to be confused with its automobile namesake but a brand on to itself. Do you have rain showers? Sure – here is one. How much? Eight thousand rupees. WHAT ON EARTH? EIGHT THOUSAND BUCKS. DO YOU HAVE GOLD FALLING FROM IT? Do you have a smaller one? yes sir. Here is one for four thousand. YA SURE – THIS ONE HAS SILVER FALLING FROM IT.
I lost all hope in getting a shower done in my bathroom. Jasmine suggested we go to Dadar and see others. Sure enough. At Dadar we got another one (unbranded) for guess what – five hundred bucks. Jaguar charges a premium of 16 times. Yes you heard me right 16 times. I am sure the quality must be better but 16 times? That’s an unheard of margin. Wow. What a cool brand. That too in something as mundane as bathroom fittings where the stuff is at the essence of it, the same thing. My friend had bought the Jaguar one. Sure enough, he insisted that the quality was much better. I am sure the water drops must have been… rounder; ‘more rounder’ I guess. BUT 16 TIMES. I am happy with my drops beings a bit, a bit…. They could be square for all I care. 16 times. BAH!

cut it

Jispa had her first hair day. Well not exactly that but … ok., lets start from the beginning. Everyday her mom and her would be fighting over her hair. Combing it, removing knots, they coming in her eyes etc. Being eth dad I obviously know nothing about hair care. For me any solution is simply – Shampoo it. Obviously its pretty ineffective. So every now and then I would be calling for a cease fire. Actually shouting CEASE FIRE is more like it. so I started working on Jispa to have her hair cut short. I thought of everything in the book for her to cut it shorter. That she looks pretty cute with short hair helps. So finally she agrees. But she decides the length. It her call. I am ok. She wanted to go to a particular neighborhood parlor where she used to get it trimmed. I had my doubts but let it happen. Mommy and Jispa go there while I proceed for my hair cut. Jispa like me to cut my hair short so that she can massage my head without me worrying about how I might end up looking like.

After I am through I wait for her under the building. She emerges in a really bad mood and with a few tears. What happened I ask? I look at mummy who signals a really bad mood indicator. Jispa is no mood to talk. I figure that she is very unhappy with the length. It seems that she had clearly indicated length. The stupid lady cut it in that length at the back and then cut it sorter in the front. Oh shit. Why do these idiots think? Can’t they just do as they are told? Can’t they ask? I told Jispa next time you cut it at a decent place. She was angry with everybody. Why me? I was not even there. EVERYONE… evn me because of me she cut it short. Oh ok… I am sorry. I agree it could have been cut better but it wasn’t that bad. It was pretty cute that way itself. But I guess she was in no real mood to listen. All I could tell her that the best thing with hair is that it grows. So it will be fine soon enough :). I know. I have had really bad hair cuts myself.

Luckily the art has improved over the years with a variety of styles and cuts coming in. When I was a kid the guys cutting hair were really pathetic. Trained to cut without seeing the person or the face. When you cut someone’s hair you are not cutting hair, you are giving shape to someone’s personality. The ones who understand that become stylists, the other remain butchers.

In the middle I was seriously contemplating taking up hair cutting as a part time hobby. I even inquired about the course. But hell, I just couldn’t find the time to take it up. Someday I would. Possibly after retirement, when my hands are no longer steady. Or retire before the hands get shaky I guess. Ya. That’s a better option. I will do one thing for sure, talk a lot while cutting. Especially when I am using my brains, and most important – ask again and again to be sure, when I cut someone’s hair SHORT.

My attempt at writing stories for seven year olds - Manali in Mumbai

Manali in Mumbai

Mumbai. What a beautiful city. It is so large and full of people. You bump into people everywhere. At train stations, at bus stations, at coffee shops, everywhere. There are so many things to do, so many places to see. Yes Mumbai is a large city.

Manali was a small girl in large Mumbai. She loved her city and everything about it, but the best thing for her was Mumbai’s big huge double-decker busses. She would get her Papa to take her on the bus from home to the city end and then back again.

Waiting at the bus stop Manali would ask her papa. This one? This one? This one? Her Papa would look hard at the bus number and then pull out a piece of paper from his pocket and stare at it. He always forgot which bus number went where. So her mummy wrote out the numbers on a small piece of paper and gave it him.

One day he forgot to take the piece of paper along. Manali was very upset with him. But not for too long. She loved her Papa. She was used to Papa forgetting everything and doing silly things. One day he wore his t shirt inside out, the other day he forgot his wallet and he was always forgetting his cell phone everywhere. But Manali was a very smart girl. She would remind him about everything.

Today before they left Manali asked her papa – “did you take your wallet?” “yes” said Papa. “cap?” “yes Manali”, “cell phone, wallet, paper with bus numbers?” she went on… “yes, Manali, I took them all” As they went near the lift Manali suddenly slapped her hand on her head. “What happened, Manali. Now what did I forget?” asked her papa. “Papa” said Manali. You forgot to wear your shoes. “oops” shouted papa “thank you Manali. I would not know what to do with out you. Just don’t tell mama what I forgot this time.” Her Papa laughed.

It was a good thing that Manali now knew how to pack her bag. She was like her mummy. She was well organized and knew what went into her bag. The milk pack, a pack of biscuits, a tiffin box with two cheese sandwiches for her Papa and her, a tomato ketchup packet, a small bottle of water, binoculars and at last a napkin. She did not let silly Papa carry anything, not even the bag. Who knows where Papa would forget the bag.

Now why would a little girl like Manali carry binoculars? Binoculars helped her see things that are far very clearly. Manali always wanted to see birds clearly. But does Mumbai have any birds? Of course you can see the crows, pigeons, mynas and sparrows. But you don’t need binoculars to see that. You see them everywhere. You can see them outside your window. Put some corn outside and see them come.

But Manali’s favorite bird was a small bird, a lovely bird called the copper smith barbet. It is such a pretty bird. It is green, small with a tough short beak and has a red tuff on its head. It is difficult to see. Not too many people knew that you can see it in the city. It is well hidden inside the leaves of the peepal trees that are all over Mumbai.

But then how would Manali know its there. It was the sound of that bird that told her. What is the sound like? Well, it is called the copper smith barbet because it made a sound of a copper smith working. Go to your kitchen and ask your mummy for a copper vessel. It is a little golden in color. If you don’t have a copper vessel a heavy steel one would do, I guess. Then hold it upside down with your hand inside it. Take a spoon or any other heavy thing and bang the vessel, but not too hard. There. Tonk tonk tonk. That’s the sound of a coppersmith barbet.

Next time you roam around Mumbai, try and spot a peepal tree. It has a fat leaf with a pointy tip coming out. Wait for two minutes quietly. You might just hear a coppersmith barbet going – tonk tonk tonk. Look around you if Manali is there and you could borrow her binoculars and see the bird yourself. It is a beautiful bird.

So Manali packed all her stuff in her backpack and went off with her silly Papa to see Mumbai. They took a double decker bus to her favorite place – Chowpatty. Chowpatty beach was Manali’s favorite outdoor place. The museum was her favorite indoor place. At Chowpatty, Manali loved the sea, the waves and the wind. It was fun to go close to the sea; just enough to wet her toes and then she would close her eyes.

She would hear the waves come closer and suddenly wet her toes. This would tickle her a bit, and she would hold here papa’s hand tightly, but not open her eyes. Now wait for the next wave to come close and tickle her again. Sometimes a big wave would come in and she would jump on her papa and hang on his legs like a monkey. Then papa and Manali would laugh like crazy.

They laughed so much that mummy would look and wonder if the sea had some magical laughing gas. Papa and Manali would just not stop laughing. They would laugh all the way home. If the laughing stopped, they would look at each other and start laughing all over again. Mummy would look at them; wonder if they were all potty in the head. It was the best fun in the whole world.

At this time the chowpatty beach was even more special. It was the Ganapati festival. They were there on the fifth day. That was the day when Ganapati statues of all shape and sizes were brought to the sea for immersion. They would come in cars, carts, and trucks with all the kids, friends and land up at the beach. They would pray to the idol, give out sweets, burst a few crackers and dance a bit.
Then the men would go into the sea, carrying the statue on their heads. The people on the beach would shout out loud ‘Ganapati Bappa, moriya!’ ‘GANAPATI BAPPA, MORIYA’.. louder and louder. One dip, second dip and the third dip and they would let the statue slowly sink into the sea. Ganapati will be back next year with lots more fun. Manali really loved it all. There were so many Ganpatis all around.

Soon it was getting late and they had spent more than two hours at the beach. She had eaten her sandwiches. She had used her binoculars to see the Ganapatis being taken to the sea. It had also a rained a little that day and then when the sun came out soon after, she could see a lovely rainbow over the sea. Wow. The colorful rainbow was like the perfect cherry on what had been a lovely day.

While they were walking back from the beach Manali could see some men selling bubbles. They were selling bubble liquids in small cases. They were blowing bubbles in the wind. She stopped to see and play with the bubbles. She had to hold her silly papa and make him sit or else he would have just walked away not knowing that Manali had stopped. He was such a silly papa.

She went dancing around and jumping high and low. She wanted to touch the bubbles. But every time Manali touched a bubble. Pop, it would burst. Pop. Another one would burst. They would just keep bursting. But Manali did not want to burst them. She wanted to hold them. She wanted to keep them. She wanted a bubble that would not burst at all.

She kept trying. At first she was trying to catch them. That did not work. Then she tried chasing a bubble that floated away. Slowly, slowly she tried to put her arm around and try to stop the bubble from flying away. It still burst in her hand.

She even tried to stand like a scarecrow, very still and quiet, with her arm stretched so that a bubble can somehow slowly land in her hand and she could take it with her everywhere. But the bubble would just dash against her and pop they went.

She then had an idea. She wet her hands and tried to reach out to the bubbles. Something magic was going to happen. One big bubble floated to her hand and came to rest there. It was there for a second, two seconds. Manali was very happy. Her silly Papa who watching all this was happy. That was a bubble she could carry everywhere with her. Pop. That too burst. Manali was now getting sad.

Her papa was looking at all this silently. He called her to his side and asked her what she wanted. Manali said that she wanted a bubble that she could take with her everywhere and look at whenever she wanted.

He thought for a while. He was talking to himself. Mumble bumble trouble… he then snapped his fingers and smiled. “What?” Asked Manali, a little excited by now. “why are you smiling?”. Her Papa replied “I think I know what you are looking for. You are looking for A PERFECT BUBBLE.” “A perfect bubble? What is that?” asked Manali.

Papa slowly explained “A Perfect Bubble is a bubble that you can carry along where ever you are. You can see when ever you want to. It will always be with you”. “Yes, I want the Perfect Bubble now” said Manali.

“Then come along sit with me quietly. Now look at the man blowing bubbles. Look at him closely. Wait till he blows a big round bubble. Not an oval or a square bubble, but a BIG ROUND BUBBLE.” Manali sat next to her papa watching the bubbles come out and fly.

Small bubbles came, many bubbles came, and some were big but not round. Some were round but were not big. Some were two joined to each other. Some just broke as soon as they were made. But Manali and Papa were not going anywhere. They were waiting for the BIG ROUND BUBBLE that would become their Perfect Bubble.

Soon enough, a big bubble began to form. It was quite big. “Yes, that’s the one” said papa. “Watch it closely. See its flying. Look at the way the bubble looks. Can you see the rainbow glowing in it? The rainbow colors inside are moving. Look closely. Everything inside looks upside down. It’s floating up. Now it is floating to the left, now right. Watch closely”.

Manali was watching very closely. See could see only the bubble. Nothing but the bubble. It was truly beautiful. She could see the rainbow in it. Very clearly. The colors inside were actually moving. She could see the brown of the sand in it and the blue of the sky in it. The bubble was moving so slowly, floating as if an invisible fairy was holding it in her hand so that Manali could see it clearly. It was not just a Big Round Bubble. It was THE PERFECT BUBBLE.

While the bubble was still floating, she heard her Papa say “now close your eyes slowly and try to remember the perfect bubble”. Manali closed her eyes. Yes. The Perfect Bubble was there. It was clear. She could see it. Floating, flying. The rainbow was there as well. Its colors were still moving inside. The Brown and the Blue was still there. Wow…

Her Papa was the best silly Papa in the whole world. Now the Perfect Bubble would always be with her, wherever she went. In the bathroom, on the stool, in the kitchen, on the table, in the school, on the terrace or even at the zoo. She could see The Perfect Bubble whenever she wanted. All she had to do was close her eyes.

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Mangala ho

Mangalsutra not a must for Hindu marriage: High Court - saying it was not mandatory for the groom to tie a 'mangalsutra' around the bride's neck to prove a marriage between Hindus.
People take anything to the court. Jasmine does not wear any symbol of marriage (and neither do I). In fact I don’t even remember if I tied a mangalsutra. Might have... might not have, but one thing is for sure, she doesn’t roam around with it. I don’t remember if we gave her an engagement ring also. And the ring I got for my marriage is practically unwearable. It’s that ugly.
The story of that ring goes thus – Jasmine’s mom wanted to take my measurement to get me a ring. I refused to give the measurement saying I don’t want a ring. Why don’t they just take Jasmine’s measurement and give the dam ring to her. At least it will get worn. Also I didn’t particularly like the concept of getting anything from the bride’s family. My theory was simple. You can give whatever you want to her, spare me. I don’t even want to know. Then when I reached home my mom asked me “you didn’t give your measurement?” “No, how did you know?” “They called” “ya, I told them to give the ring to Jasmine. I don’t want any of it”. Mom figured it’s a futile argument with me. Dad took me aside and spoke something to this effect “I understand and appreciate your values. But also do realize that their parents have certain aspirations and dreams. Sometimes it does not make sense to fight it. You can always give the ring back to Jasmine. No body forces you to wear it.” … hmmmm… penny drops. I give measurement. I get a hideous ring in return. A golden ring with nine diamonds on it. I am not wearing that one for sure. What a waste of emotion.
Coming back to marriage symbols. I never did want Jasmine to wear any symbol that showed her betrothal to the world. It’s her choice. No sindoor, no ring, no mangalsutra, no nose ring.. On our honeymoon, she was in denims, t shirts and a back pack. So was I. Since this trip was not immediately after the marriage there was no mehendi on her hands as well. Amongst the places we visited was a beautiful temple village called Jageshwar in Kumaon. A very pretty temple complex amongst huge Deodhar trees. With very few devotees there was no jostling around the sanctum sanctorum while the evening puja was happening. We were along with one more couple inside. After the puja, we were making our way towards the hotel when the other couple (locals from around) offered us a lift to the hotel. While we got talking the guy asked me “are you guys hindus?” “yup we are” Jainism could loosely be called Hinduism I guess. “aaa, don’t mind, but is she… uu.. are you married?” “ya. She is my wife” “sorry, we were only asking because we were wondering because there is no sindoor, no mangalsutra, no nose ring, no…” I could only laugh. I told them we don’t have anything like that and we don’t really believe in it. What to do?

kaalia management

I have a new technique in management. MPF - Management by Poker Face. Whenever the kids come to me asking for help on a certain issue, I am going to just maintain the same face. Poker face. I did that a few times already. They come with a problem, they look at me, don’t get reaction, they walk away with an answer in their head. It’s that simple. No use of any subliminal techniques, no ESP, nothing. Just keep on doing what you were doing. Don’t ignore. Just keep the poker face. Don’t show any reaction. That’s it. people will magically grow up. They suddenly come to you less often. They take more decisions themselves. Things happen. Taking charge happens. Wow…

The next technique I want to apply is kaalia management. Whenever anyone comes to me with an issue I will simply look at the person squarely in the eye… hold it for a second… gaze upwards and say “you dip in the water and sharpen it again and again… o kaalia, I read your mind”. That’s it. Then turn away look somewhere else, walk away, type away. I think the key is the way you say it. It must sound profound enough. I am going to try this often. “.”
Do not take this portentous line lightly (I just learnt that word; I hope I am using it rightly. It means ominously prophetic). There is deep wisdom and reference from where I learnt it as an eight year old. My brother and sister burst out laughing every time I use it. We get hysterical and everyone around us fails to see the prophecy hidden within the line.

I will let you know what happens when I start using the kaalia technique to management.

Oh but you really do want to know what exactly the line means. Well here “you dip it in the water and sharpen it again and again… o kaalia, I read your mind”

open up

While doing some general researching I came across this interesting study

A new kind of economic indicator
By Richard Florida
In 2007 Charlotta Mellander and I examined how various regional factors shape housing prices. We found that two factors combine to shape them. The first is pretty obvious: income. The wealthier the residents, the pricier the housing. The second and much larger factor is reflected by our Bohemian–Gay Index, which combines the concentration of artists, musicians, and designers with the concentration of gays and lesbians in a region. Regardless of which variables we applied, what version of the model we used, or which regions we looked at, the concentration of bohemians and gays consistently had a staggering impact on housing values.
We found that the presence of these populations had direct effects on housing values as well as other locational variables (like income and human capital), making these places more attractive to other populations and demographics. In other words, the presence of these groups not only made housing values rise, it made incomes rise as well.
Why would this be? Our theory is that bohemian and gay populations capitalize on two distinct factors of high-value housing. The first is an aesthetic–amenity premium. Artists and bohemians not only produce amenities but are attracted to places that have them. As selective buyers with eyes for amenity, authenticity, and aesthetics, they tend to concentrate in places where these things abound. The second is a tolerance or open-culture premium. Regions with large bohemian and gay populations possess low cultural barriers to entry, allowing them to attract talent and human capital across racial, ethnic, and other lines. Artistic and gay populations also cluster in communities that value open-mindedness and self-expression.
And their status as historically marginalized groups means that artistic and gay populations tend to be highly self-reliant and receptive to newcomers. They’ve had to build networks from scratch, mobilize resources independently, and create their own organizations and companies.
For all of these reasons, regions where artists and gays have migrated and settled are more likely than others to place high premiums on innovation, entrepreneurship, and new-company formation. It’s not that gays and bohemians drive up housing simply by paying more; their effect on housing prices is far less direct. Bohemian and gay residents drive up housing value because they make areas that were already ripe for growth even more desirable, and to a greater number of people.

This sidebar is excerpted from Florida’s recent book Who’s Your City? How the Creative Economy Is Making Where You Live the Most Important Decision of Your Life.
Source http://whatmatters.mckinseydigital.com/innovation/a-new-kind-of-economic-indicator

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They are right. Open cultures and communities would always do better than closed ones. This would reflect in all sorts of economic indicators. It seems to be empirical proof of the point I have been trying to make. Openness is a must in our mindsets. Even for selfish reasons: Regions with large bohemian and gay populations possess low cultural barriers to entry, allowing them to attract talent and human capital across racial, ethnic, and other lines.
The US was built by a steady stream of enterprising immigrants who fueled its bio-diverse populace and allowed to attract some of the best brains in the business. For rock solid proof we might do well to research the Manhattan Project or even see the mix in the Silicon Valley. Openness begets openness. What you want in life? To be surrounded by narrow minded backward looking bigots that seek to protect the gene pool as if it were nectar or be surrounded by open forward looking people who are able to break conventions, ask why not and challenge not only themselves but those around them. Do you get better by gazing at your navel or by looking and learning from those around you? Open up. Be ready to accept new ideas, cultures, habits, technology and quirks. I am amazed by the response of the world and those around me at times. Why would they so want to hold on to status quo? I think they might be pressured into giving a response and that’s why they might be using the safe route and stonewalling anything new. I normally use the words ‘I don’t know; guess it works for some’. Not all new is good, the same way not all new is bad. It’s better to buy time, research, understand consequences and then have an opinion. Till then it’s better to admit ignorance.
Now that’s ironic. A lot of blog posts of mine are highly opinionated. Take the one before last. I had an opinion on a life décor, of all things a bloody lift! How does that really matter?
The disclaimer is thus. I really don’t have as strong an opinion as might be reflected in the blog. But a exaggerated pot shot at something odd does make for good copy. Forgive me.

handle on life

Google analytics is such a useful tool to put on your blog. It gives you tons of visitor statistics, which pages are popular, where readers come from etc etc. Its fun having this information and I have put these codes up sometime back. But then again, why should I be so enamored by it? My core target is Jispa. If I choose to play to the gallery, that would defeat the entire purpose and authenticity of the blog, wouldn’t it? Sure you are welcome. All can read. It is an open blog, but the writing must personal and to my mind directed. Would I have been able to keep this going otherwise? I don’t think so.
The birth of child is the death of the father. Somebody told me that kabir said so. The moment your child is born you start living your child’s life, you are ready to give up your life for your child, so in effect you are dead in that way.
A child changes you in many ways that one cannot fathom. This time when we went on a vacation to the north I had a bad back. It is a muscle injury in the lower back. Quite painful, especially while sitting. Pretty ok while walking or standing. But it starts hurting a bit while trekking, climbing. This vacation gave us plenty to do just that. Every time we would go trekking it would start with a niggle. A lot of the walking was through narrow paths with a steep slide on one side. To make matters worse the walking was on dry leaves which aren’t exactly great for grip. Being daddy, I love the responsibility of holding Jispa through all this, and I was not going to let my back come in the way. So I was holding Jispa all the time. It is then I realized that a daughter’s hand is a magic wand. My back pain disappeared when I held her hand. How could my back pain when I have to take care of Jispa. It’s just not possible. Together we took on steep inclines, steps, jumps, slips and everything that Mother Nature threw at us. At one point in Jilling, we had hailstones coming down with the temperature dipping. But with my little magic wand in my hand we just kept going. No pain.
But this is not a one way street. After we came back, Jispa pretty much refused to sleep alone in the separate room. She kept trying to slip into our bed. She is now quite big and we all don’t fit, especially considering the painful back. It’s quite a task of convincing her. Now the new thing is that she will not sleep in her bed on her own. You have to lie down next to her and make her sleep. Once she is asleep, you can proceed to catch your sleep on your bed. You read a bit, she reads a bit. Then she closes her eyes and sleeps. She says if we are not there then she does not get sleep fast. It takes a lot of time. Yesterday while I was beside her, she was quite irritated. There was a song in her head which she just couldn’t shake off. I think it was Billo rani or something like that. With that song in her head at night, no wonder she was irritated. So then I read her a few stories, hugged her a bit, get hugged back in return and then she got her sleep. Magic works both ways.

The theme song for parenting is not so different from this evergreen song. Its also a solution to most parenting issues. Both ways!

gilt edged?

A building I went to was pretty hep. How do I know? Look at the lift.

People will go to any length to feel hep. In this case luxurious opulent and wasteful as well. This lift had claustrophobically dark mahogany paneling with gold trimmings. GOLD!??!! The last time I saw such décor it was in a seventies Amitabh flick where such sets were used to denote the villain’s den. In those days if you were rich you were the villain - period. Sure the times have changed and you have outrageously rich heroes being accepted. But this lift was a symbol of …. of something heinous I guess. I expected Ajit to walk in at the next floor wearing white shoes and a white top hat. Even the mirror had a golden sheen making the whole thing very dark and yellow? It made me feel that the whole thing will slowly start to push in and crush me alive. Hahahhaha (that’s the villain laughing). A remnant of another heinous torture chamber used by Amjad Khan (I think) in another one of that eighties Amitabh flicks.
Ok I am over reacting. So I hate gold. By all means use it on yourself, in your houses, in your bedroom and fulfill all your kitsch. But please spare us the lift. Excuse the ugly use of the pun but I can’t help saying - Thodi si lift kara de.

time to change times?

After reading the Bob Dylan post, v-inu was like ‘my firend is listening to Bob Dylan!!! What happened to you?’ I think he was wondering if I had gotten potty in the head (for those wondering where they have heard the phrase, credits - Bill Waterston). The answer is guilty as charged with a slight variation on the crime. I dint get potty in the head – I always was potty in the head. Odd heads attract. That why we are still friends, you fiend. Before you point out, noopes, that is not a spelling error, you fiend. Add Dinesh to the equation and you have the cone heads.
So in continuation of my new found passion, here is more Bob Dylan. Learning from mistakes of the last experience I am not over theorizing. In fact I am not theorizing at all. The words of Umberto Eco come to mind - "I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. "

So hence I am merely reproducing the lyrics of – The times they are a changing. Quite nice poetry. I wonder why popular culture is shunned by the text books. We had the bal bharati series of text books with only works of poets that had died at least a 100 years ago. Don’t get me wrong. They were pretty ok, even inspiring and interesting at times but wouldn’t Bob Dylan in there be cool? I can even imagine my poetry teachers getting a guitar and a harmonica to class and singing the songs. Ok on second thoughts – I don’t want THEM to sing it. It would have made poor Bob uncool. But you get the point.
So before I introduce Bob let me introduce you to some of the poetry I remember reading / learning.

William Wordsworth (1770 –1850)
The Solitary Reaper

BEHOLD her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

I loved this one. I was in love with the solitary reaper. Well yah, in love with the image of the solitary reaper that I had in my mind. This poem stirred up all the newly found hormones of a 14 year old.
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The next one was a favorite then and is a favorite now. This I knew by rote then and I often quote from it now. It was an inspiring one. I quite liked it.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
A PSALM OF LIFE

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

"Life is but an empty dream!"

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us further than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act -- act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait

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

The next one appealed to my nationalist tendencies. I was a staunch nationalist. I wanted to join the army. I also completed my C certificate in the National Cadet Corps. I still remember my number - No 1 Mah Air Sqd 91/105601. I am a bit more ambivalent or should I say pragmatic about nationalism now.

Sir Walter Scott – (1771- 1832)
This is my own native land

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
"This is my own, my native land!"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.

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

And now let’s have Bob Dylan. He would have been able to hold his own in face of the older greats. At least in the high school text books for sure.

Bob Dylan (1941 - )
The Times They Are A-Changin'

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to youIs worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road isRapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

Now that would be pretty cool. Have this in the text book and also have the audio visual play.
As for now – I am inspired enough to play cowboy and shoot with my mouse.

'spaced out' offices

Farms, cubicle farms… the other day I had the opportunity to go visit our brand new office building at goregaon. At the very edge of Goregaon. Beyond which you spit into Borivili national park. I had heard that the place is huge with very large floor plates, but I still was a bit overwhelmed by the size when I saw it first hand. I had first joined the company when we might have been less than two thousand odd employees (we are now 15,000). So seeing so many heads was quite a different experience.
But the lack of imagination in designing the floor plan was of another order altogether. I really don’t know why there is absolute lack of imagination when putting people together to work. We tend to think that when the scale is large - think poultry farming. Is it because we still have not lost our farming instincts over all these years? The standard massive cubicle farms in the middle with cabins at the side. Chicken in the middle with cow shed on the sides.
An absolute lack of design and thought. Who do you blame, the architect? What about the philistines who commissioned it. If you ask for garbage you will get it. The poor admin guys have no poetry. If they had any would they wouldn’t be happy doing an admin job. Their brief will also be straightforward. Get me a modern office that seats x number of people in y amount of space. Where does the buck stop? Assumedly the creative of the firm resides in the marketing section. Aren’t they supposed to be thinking? But they are busy farting and walking around with an obnoxious looking oversized creative chip on both their shoulders. Looking at all this, the architect decides to chuck it and give what ever suits the straight and narrow. Least common denominator thinking. It hits us all the time.
Opulence is used to give the lobby height, paste granite on the walls and affix buff steel bars. The opulence and lack of imagination goes hand in hand with opulence substituting for the brain. And then add the glass finish on the outside and you have corporate buildings. They are all the same. I think they bully the employee into submission. With so many cabins and cubicles it is not surprising that ego wars happen on size. There is nothing else to differentiate. Ugliness assumes newer proportions. Colors are sorely missed. Then you will have people praising it. Wah wah!
But of course the work is still under way. The office still has finishing touches left. It will be fun and exciting to work in after you put the trimmings. Sure. I believe you. SCREW YOU.
It will be good fun to be the sole dissenting voice when we discuss the office in meetings. I HATE IT.

While on the topic of offices here is my favorite scene from the movie office space. It shows three average Joes totally smash up an office printer. Absolutely awesome scene. The printer is the ultimate symbol of everything an office is and shouldn’t be. Why –
It symbolizes the network admin who power corrupt
Personal printers are given once you reach a certain level!!!
The guys who believe their information is sensitive gets personal printers as well
The paper always jams
There are tons of uncollected print outs
Only the marketing guys get the color printer access. YOU PIECE OF SHIT!
The larger the office the larger the printer
The cartridge runs out only when you have an important print out to make
You put the letterhead and run to give the command only to find that the other guy gave the command before and printed his GM diet on your letterhead
No one understands or uses tray two for letter heads
No one understands or uses the double sided printing
No one has the courtesy to put in paper when their print outs empty the tray
The network guys sell the empty cartridge for side money.
They take forever to initialize in the morning when you are running for a meeting
They are singularly responsible for destroying the Amazon.

how many thoughts must a man have before we can call him a man?

One of the first things that happened in this new place is that I started going through some old DVD’s I had. I saw one without a label. Hmm what is it. a ha – some songs, deaf leopard, Bob Marley, Bob Dylan etc.. hey hold on Bob Dylan huh? I am no music geek. In fact I am hearld music anything but I remember liking some of Bob Dylan. Let play it. Today as I was playing the song I rediscovered was ‘blowing in the wind’. I had definitely heard it during college days, but I felt something else as I heard it today. The lyrics got out and reached some inner core. The amazing simplicity of the song had me spell bound. Even as I read or play it over and over again I find myself as captivated as ever.
I reproduce the lyrics here:-

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, n how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, n how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before theyre forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, n how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before its washed to the sea?
Yes, n how many years can some people exist
Before theyre allowed to be free?
Yes, n how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesnt see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.

It is simple direct poetry at its best. In fact it is so simple that I got a bit confused trying to decipher the answer ‘is blowing in the wind’. What was on his mind? What is the poet alluding to? What is it that he is saying? Searching on net I came across the following para:-

"Blowin' in the Wind" is a song written by Bob Dylan and released on his 1963 album The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. Although it has been described as a protest song, it poses a series of rhetorical questions about peace, war, and freedom. The refrain "The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind" has been described as "impenetrably ambiguous: either the answer is so obvious it is right in your face, or the answer is as intangible as the wind". The song makes no reference to a specific event.

But further reading got me to these words that Dylan himself wrote:
There ain’t too much I can say about this song except that the answer is blowing in the wind. It ain’t in no book or movie or TV show or discussion group. Man, it’s in the wind—and it’s blowing in the wind. Too many of these hip people are telling me where the answer is but oh I won’t believe that. I still say it’s in the wind and just like a restless piece of paper it’s got to come down some ...But the only trouble is that no one picks up the answer when it comes down so not too many people get to see and know ...and then it flies away I still say that some of the biggest criminals are those that turn their heads away when they see wrong and know it’s wrong. I’m only 21 years old and I know that there’s been too many ...You people over 21, you’re older and smarter.

The song is so simple a protest. Simplicity. That is the essence of his song, his verse and his thought. Only a work of an uncluttered mind can think like this. Sometimes I find it so silly that we try and see for deeper, hidden agendas and meaning where none really exist. It must be coming from an inner core of human mind that seeks to demystify and ‘solve’ everything. Sometimes they need no solving. Let them be. A blank mind can absorb so much.

That is also one of the reasons that I like teaching undergraduates as opposed to post graduate student. Something cracks once they get into an MBA. An attitude that says, I know it all. A selfish self centered attitude, a desire to control your own destiny, a stronger sense of internal belief that doesn’t open to outside influence? I don’t know. I too must have been that once I guess. Who knows – I might still be one now.

For some reason another post of mine comes to my mind as if its related http://jaimit.blogspot.com/2007/04/long-live-buddha-kill-him-on-road.html

Its a new world

This post was written yesterday but got published today. Teething troubles at the new office.

Hmmmm. A new office after around four and three quarters of a year. This is the first time that I must have sat in one place for soo long. I have had a checkered history in my ten years of work life. I kept moving around, jumping around and bouncing from one place to another. It took some time for realization to sink in that staying in one place and growing roots is probably a smart thing to do. After all the struggle and gut wrenching that a babe in the woods is first subjected to, it is now time to sit and enjoy the benefits of experience, comfort level, knowledge and power. Power in two forms – the one that comes from authority and the second that is far less visible; it is the one that comes from knowing the system and the people within it. I suggest the latter is probably more powerful. And it only comes with time and enough ‘elephant bumping’.
Coming back to the new office. I like the new desk I got. Nice cozy corner of the office. I can play music to me hearts delight, watch movies, even watch some porn without anyone catching me :) I have a wall behind me and a color printer in front! And keeping with the cost cuttings happening no one except a couple of ‘hallowed’ individuals having access to the printer. Needless to add I figures to get my self the access. These days I am happy to be a bit undisturbed and away from it all. My team is a little bit away from me. I am happier for them. I wouldn’t want my boss looking down my shoulder. It also helps them grow up. What’s the point of ‘leading’ a team if they are unable to function without you? The idea is to make your self as free as possible to pursue ‘trivial pursuits’. Sorry for the silly word play. It was only intentional. Hehe.
While we were leaving the nariman point office, there was a tinge of nostalgia but now I am ok. I am making myself quite at home here. I just want a small corner to myself. This place would be the exact size they would need to dig if I were to be buried. What else does a man want?

The last day at the old office all cleaned up desk

Some images from the shifting
now this one is my favourite... wonder why...The new place…Wanna join me for a cuppa?

talk to learn

Once I was with a colleague (Arun) and we discussing the leadership style of a senior guy called Natrajan. He is one guy we both admired. In the middle of the discussion I said ‘the most outstanding quality about Natarajan is that while most people need to talk to motivate. Natrajan keeps quite and motivates’. As soon as I said this I realized the enormity of the observation. Arun is also always quick to catch. He looked at me, nodded and said ‘bahut bada baat bol diya tune’. I nodded. Before I spoke it I had not thought about the observation. I did not know of it. But talking to Arun made me realize my own observation. Talking to others helps you realize what you yourself did not know that you knew. BLABBER BLABBER. Argggghhh. I don’t think I am quite describing all of this well enough but I think you get the drift.
The best part about teaching and talking to others is that many times you yourself did not know of the truth. A lot of my belief has been understood by me by talking about it. It probably acts as a reinforcer and prompts thought. Listening to other people, teaching, explaining, understanding helps broaden your world view and help you learn from so many other people. How much can your experience alone help?
Here is an interesting chat that I had with a student. A very sweet but a bit confused kid. When I speak to these kids who come looking for advice all I want to do is instill in them a sense of ownership of their own destinies. We try to cling on to too many straws in the air. (I hope I got my idiom right). A lot of the answer is inside of us, in our beliefs and in our value systems.


--- ‘id withheld’---: i want some advice from you
---jaimit---: bol
--- ‘id withheld’---: do u have time.. or shud i email you and.. you get back to me
---jaimit---: BOL NA
--- ‘id withheld’---: hmm
---jaimit---: THAPAD MARUNJA
--- ‘id withheld’---: hehehe :)
okok
---jaimit---: if i cant talk to you i will let you know
--- ‘id withheld’---: i graduated last mnth... i m hunting for a job.. and now you the situation here in US.. i wanted to ask you.. if I come back to India.. hw easy/difficult will it be for me..?
---jaimit---: difficult here as well
mixed reactions
--- ‘id withheld’---: hmm
---jaimit---: things are improving for sure but i dont see people hiring
very difficult choice
but sometimes you have no choice but to come back :(
--- ‘id withheld’---: yea..
---jaimit---: try there
try hard
then if nothing works - come back :(
idhar bhi difficult hai
--- ‘id withheld’---: i m trying... bt its that i have to be patient.. and i have to stay here for atleast 3 mnths on my expense
hmmm...
---jaimit---: worth a shot
--- ‘id withheld’---: hmm thats also true
---jaimit---: what you lose?
you gain exposure through stuggle
its fun when you have to think about making ends meet on your own
its called GROWING UP
--- ‘id withheld’---: :)
ya
thank you..
if nthng works.. yea.. i have my home and family there to come back
---jaimit---: ecjactly
notihing ventured nothing gained
fortune favors the brave
aish kar
get an angrezi BF
do anything
--- ‘id withheld’---: hahaha
bhai maaar dega
---jaimit---: bhai ko thapad maar
tell him to grow up
you too should live lifee on what you think is right
not on other people's whims and beliefs
you are an adult
--- ‘id withheld’---: hehehe...
---jaimit---: you choose
--- ‘id withheld’---: i wish!!
:)
---jaimit---: i am serious
dont wish
take control of your destiny
stand up and be counted
--- ‘id withheld’---: :) yea.. you are right
---jaimit---: i am serious
do it now
these decisions that you take now will influence teh rest of your life
after a few years the decisions will not be yours alone
after marriage and motherhood you will rue not take your own decisions
then you will not be able to take decisions stand alone
every one and everything will get in your way
--- ‘id withheld’---: yaa
---jaimit---: in laws, hubby, society, kids, schools
SO GET UP AND DO WHAT EVER THE FUCK YOU THINK IS RIGHT
--- ‘id withheld’---: :)
thanks!! you have really boosted my confidence
---jaimit---: after 10 20 30 years
--- ‘id withheld’---: kaafi din se .. i was really confused and upste
---jaimit---: when you look back inlife
dont blame any body else
look at yourself
your wins are your alone
your losses are yours alone
you stand tall
--- ‘id withheld’---: yea very true
---jaimit---: this way you will be at ease
--- ‘id withheld’---: yess..
your wife and your daughter are lucky.. very few men think like u
---jaimit---: :)
many do
but women are swayed by other things when they look for a man
they end up taking handsome men instead of forward looking men
women also prefer to do stupid things
after all its mother in laws you torment daughter in laws
they like being led
they like being subjugated
you have to choose
look at yourself
you went there, studied on your own
lived on your own
and yet you still think that of your brothers will
--- ‘id withheld’---: hmmmm
ya.. i also dt knw why
---jaimit---: let him advice
take his wisdom
take his experience
chat with him
butyou dont have to blindly follow him
or anyone else
not even you hubby
YOU CHOOSE
thenits easier to fight for it
easier to bear the sufferings
--- ‘id withheld’---: you are totally right
---jaimit---: there is happiness and suffering in all choices
but if they are your choices then atleast you are at ease with it
YOU
--- ‘id withheld’---: yepp...
---jaimit---: :)
--- ‘id withheld’---: :)
thank u sir... thanks a lotttttttt
---jaimit---: hmm
anytime
--- ‘id withheld’---: heheh
you made my day!!
till date no one has explained me so nicely
---jaimit---: then you havent met enough people
nor spoken to them
--- ‘id withheld’---: hmmm
you just dt want to hear good things about you
may be you are right...
but still.. you are the best!
:)
---jaimit---: now i agree with you
I AM THE BEST
--- ‘id withheld’---: hahaha
---jaimit---: galti karo, sau galti karo, baar bar karo
par ek galti doobara mut karo :)
--- ‘id withheld’---: true :)

freedom to be

It is not often that I feel a sense of euphoria seeing the headlines of a newspaper. Typically I tend to be circumspect or skeptical about the actual impact in our lives. Today was one happy exception. The headlines read “INDIA’S GAY DAY - in a landmark ruling Delhi HC says homosexuality is not a crime”. I actually felt good and very happy. I have always wanted to take part in the queer day parade and openly show my solidarity for the community. After all, why should sexual preference, be held hostage to social norm. To my mind it’s the same bigots who oppose simple things like love marriage and inter caste marriage and the sorts.
When Jasmine and I were going around we were in mortal fear. Fear of getting caught or being found out by her parents or her brother. Her brother is a genuinely sweet guy but at the time he too held orthodox views and would play the role of BIG BROTHER. He was so bloody irritating and obnoxious. He was enemy number one for us at the time. But then life moves on. The guy even once apologized for the grief he caused us. But then that’s another story. Love marriages are still so strongly opposed in India. The cities are getting far better as in I see the reluctance slowly being come over. But beyond these pockets things might are not the same. While chatting up with a fort guide in Bharatpur, we came to section of the fort frequented by couples. This led me ask him on inter-caste marriages. He was clear. Inter caste marriages don’t happen in the town. There is a huge opposition to this resulting in ostracization, beatings and what not. We still haven’t grown up I guess.
But I guess with the pro gay ruling coming in our bigots will be forced to accept more such openness and will help in modifying their attitudes. Now I want to see parents opposing inter caste relationship between gay couples. That should be something.

Further links
http://girishshahane.blogspot.com/2009/07/gay-rights-and-religion.html
http://devdutt.com/did-homosexuality-exist-in-ancient-india