It will come to bite you in the bum, mind it!

Sometimes I so hate being a marketing person. Most of the times I hate being a worker in the capitalistic environment but then, that’s another story. Coming back to marketing… We at the company and the agency are equally at fault for the marketing shit that we create. Jasmine and I dropped Jispa off at her gymnastics class on Friday. Having a few hours to kill we made our way towards the Crossword book store at the HP petrol pump at Shivaji Park. The option was either a coffee shop or the bookstore. We entered in to find an inadequately air conditioned store. It was quite warm and so was the store. We browse around and then make our way to the first floor section. There were around 8 – 10 shoppers around. They all seemed like book lovers in the way they sat around with their books. The AC on top was slightly better off. There is very little space to sit and read your books in the store. At around three o clock I think you would only have core readers in. after some time some of them got some corners to sit and made them selves comfortable. This is the true core essence of the crossword customer. They are comfortable and they are at ease. No one is really complaining about the lack of anything else. Give me some books and a place to rest my butt. Everyone who is there at the store is soon seated around. Soon enough the manager (if you can call that boy that) comes in. Please get up. Get up. Get up. No sitting here. No sitting there. No sitting near the shelves. People are really pissed. There is one mother with a child sitting near the children’s section. No sitting there as well. What an idiot, there is no one else at the store. No one is hindering anyone else. I have been to a lot of Crosswords. People don’t sit when there is a crowd. They realize it affects others. And when there is a crowd, you can surely get people to get up. But for now in an empty store, this is what he does. We get up and then soon enough Jasmine and I decide to leave. We only bought the books we could browse in the small time we were comfortable. As we start to go down stairs we saw this large poster at the steps.
A lovely shot of a lost customer. I lose it. I call in the boy who made me get up and show him the poster. If this is what your poster shows then why did you make me get up. Is sleeping allowed and not sitting. He had no answer. He was just doing what he was told to. What is the core of Crosswords? Why would someone pay more at Crosswords when most book buyers know that they get best sellers pirated off the road at 100 bucks or even the latest hot sellers discounted by 30% at Strand Book Stall or the like? In any case it’s the browser who looks around, becomes comfortable and then buys more than he wanted to. But this is one category that even impulsive purchases don’t have cognitive dissonance. But my bigger grouse is not that. My big grouse is the smart Alec advertising. Advertising that is smart but does not take into account the culture of the place is the real pain. Having these larger than life posters and then asking customers to get up is just not on. The in store branding at crosswords is great. They are same guys who did it Big Cinemas and Barista also. When we were in a marketing offsite this guru came in to give us a short presentation on it. He is really good. He is the one who made all these ads was showing us the case studies. I made a point to him then. This smart witty branding is very cool, but the companies do not have the patience to pull off this customer experience. They will hire and expand rapid, they will train less and they will compromise the service delivery. Smart and witty advertising just enhances the customer expectation and poor delivery widens the gap. Nobody sits at Depot or at Strand book stall. They don’t complain about the browsing experience. It is better not to have smart witty advertising that only widens the expectation gap. Simple advertising that is boring might help instead. At least that is line with the store managers and management. If they are boring regimented people who believe in targets and discipline then the advertising must be such. It has a better chance of succeeding. All banks face the same conundrum (they of course don’t see it as such). Good advertising only accentuates bad service. Better don’t advertise… or do the simple silly run of the mill adverts.
But agency will not understand this. They want creative stimulus not effective advertising. Marketing managers want CV’s and companies are lazy to know the difference.
This is more pronounced in growing economies where you can constantly get more bang by expansion than you potentially see as retention. So you just hire like crazy, forget core values and expand. Boom, one day customers don’t like you. You wonder what’s wrong with your formula, you change the ad agency but noting seems to work. There goes your plan.

This article came in today’s newspapers. How is it different from the Crosswords episode.

EK CON
The producers of Ek promise, in an ad, to return the ticket money of disgruntled viewers. Read on to know what transpired when one dissatisfied viewer tried to reclaim his money
My name is Vikky Sukharilal Ujjinwar and this is my story. On Thursday, April 2, night I went to see Ek - The Power of One, at the New Empire cinema at VT which is near my office where I work as an office assistant. I bought an upper stall ticket for Rs 55/- and settled down to watch it. Several things about the film did not appeal to me. For one, there was excessive violence, and then there were only two songs. The story line was totally faltu and the characters unappealing. By the time I left to go home to Mankhurd I was thoroughly disgusted with the film. On my way home in the train I happened to spot a Sakaal newspaper and saw an ad by the makers of the film K Sera Sera, on page no.3 which said that they would reimburse the ticket price if anyone did not like the film. Strangely though there was no telephone number in the ad so I had no idea how I should go about it. The next day (Friday, April 3) I began my enquiries and by evening I had managed to get a number for the office of K Sera Sera from someone who knew someone who knew a spot boy on some film. At 4.30 pm I made my first call to the number (40427600) and was told that the director was in a meeting and I should call back in an hour. At 5.15 pm I called again. This time I was told that the director had not come at all and I should call back the next day. At 5.45 pm I made my third call which was transferred to someone called Sanjay who told me to come to the office, give in writing what I didn’t like about the film and collect my money. At 5.47 pm I called again and was again told to come to the office the next day, he also gave me the office address. On Saturday, April 4, I went to the office at Lokhandwala in Andheri and asked for my money. After being made to wait for 45 mins someone, not Sanjay who wasn’t in the office, spoke with me. He was curt, told me the whole world had liked the film and should they make another film for me? Finally he asked me to leave the office, and come back the next day with my letter. When I went back immediately with my complaint letter he took it and said they would review it to see if they found it valid. I was asked to phone and come back on Wednesday (April 8) or Thursday (April 9) for the cheque of the amount of my ticket Rs 55/-). I cannot go back during the week and anyway what will I do with a cheque when I don’t have a bank account? I cannot understand why it should take them a week to return Rs 55/- to me. I am at a loss to know what to do next.

The ad in question

who the bee - not me

Sacerdotal Intercession. When you read a bit and you have a blackberry that connects to Google, its fun to come across such words. You can get the meaning of these words in an instant. Reading is much more meaningful and rewarding. Not to mention – ridiculously slow as well. It gets painful when writers use a lot of these words but sometimes a right word can have a powerfull effect, especially if you have the will (and the means) at hand to look it look it up. So what the f&*% does sacerdotal intercession mean?
Sacerdotalism is from the Latin sacerdos, priest, literally one who presents sacred offerings, sacer, sacred, and dare, to give. Sacerdotalism is the idea that a propitiatory sacrifice for sin must be offered by the intervention of an order of men separated to the priesthood. Simply put it is a belief that priests can act as mediators between human beings and God.
Intercession is a prayer to God on behalf of another person
I would reject the former in an instant and hold my view on the second. Of course when the twain is put together – it’s an outright rejection in my books. Now I know the word for what I believe in.
Thanks to Google it’s easier in office writing and checking spellings. I would not even pass basic prelims at the spelling bees. The spell check in word seems inadequate for a growing vocabulary and an inborn spelling disability. yesterday when the net was off I struggled to get some words. I typically write the phonetic close and hope for spell check to correct – I wanted to write psephologist (which incidentally is correct as I spell it) but the dam word processor refused to know of it. Next I wanted to write saccharine but since I assume its spelt saccerine the only options word gave me was something like – suckering, succoring etc. I had to ask around to get the saccharine spelling. Incidentally saccerine seems perfectly fine by American standards I realize, as I search Google for it.
Language is fun. I keep telling Jasmine that for Jispa - language skills will be very important. The corollary to - Its not what we know, its how well we search – is - its not how much we know, but how well we can communicate what little we know.

Whom are you protecting and from what?

Today is some special day in the annals of web viruses or something. The techies in office have blocked all internet access for one day. Might make sense I guess. But I stopped looking for sense in what they do long time back. It’s a losing proposition. Its always a question isn’t it? How much must we be open and how much protection do we actually need. Layers would protect us from the harmful environment but it would restrict us from interacting and learning from it first hand. These are fine balances we walk everyday. To explain one perspective…
Yesterday jasmine told me that Jispa’s drawing class got cancelled. She came home and spent the evening cycling. Ok cool. She then added that she was cycling all alone down in the compound while she cooked at home. OK stop. All alone huh? Yup. I think it was the first time that we might have left Jispa all alone in the building compound. Though Jasmine did admit that she kept a keen eye from above. Now she is 6 and half years old. Kids her age are down alone all the time. Her friends are not from the building, they are all over Matunga. And they are the ones with maids. So she is typically with her friends who have maids waiting over them. Jasmine and I have resisted this maid concept that has caught on everywhere. We don’t understand it and we don’t subscribe to it. I prefer the involvement. It does mean sacrifices on our side. We can’t watch movies; we have to necessarily do things that only the entire family can do etc. But its something we have taken a conscious call for. So Jispa was alone for the first time cycling away. Are we control freaks, were we too late in allowing this or – we let her be on her own without a maid – are we too open. It’s a perspective that each one balances based on their own situation. We would like to open and give her as much freedom to explore on her own. But we have to counter potential dangers on her being alone. I don’t have answers but I do remember one line from an outstanding book on parenting ‘protect where you must, permit where you can’.
This is a simple logic that might just answer most of our dilemmas on balance. It surely helped me!

Post script: as the internet is blocked for almost everything – I wrote this in the morning and miraculously they have opened the internet in the evening as the danger has apparently passed.

Waste

Oh the things that we buy and use for years with no visible or scientifically tested powers.
These balls you see in my hand were bought from a Singapore store. They claim to make your clothes softer I think or do they help clean them better. Just pop them into the washing machine and there you are. And that’s where they having been lying ever since – the washing machine. We have no clue how effective they or even if they make an iota of difference. But they are there… getting washed everyday, sometimes twice a day, tirelessly getting clean. I think once a brave mountaineer was asked – why do you climb mountains? He answered – because they are there.

Horrendous architecture is everywhere all around us. I never cease to be amazed by our desire for the obnoxious. This is the entrance gate to Wadala truck terminus. Notice the ugly hideous jokers cap on top of that structure. What on earth is the architecture trying to do? Play a joke, what else? I think it was a year or more back when Jispa’s friends were around 4/5 years old. We passing by and I cooked up this strange story of the giant who once lived here but was subsequently killed. The hat belonged to him. The poor kid almost believed me…

its not my fault... i am trying my best

I played my first 45 overs a side killer cricket match on Saturday at azad maidan. What an experience in this March heat. My goals were clear from that last semis I played in. In that 20 20 match, I was tired batting 10 overs and was unable to do justice. My targets were simple. I can’t get tired. I have been working on fitness and reading and working on diet. So I jumped at the chance to play these 90 overs. We batted well at the start putting up a sizeable score till around the 28th over when all hell broke loose. The middle order just collapsed leaving number 8 (me) and number 9 to bat through 14 odd overs. We knew one thing. We had to stay on the crease. We had to tire these guys out, frustrate them, make them field for the full 45 overs. The runs will come on their own. We played with a straight bat, played out their main bowlers and tapped around for singles. The sledging around was a lot. We enjoyed ourselves on the field, making them field. I normally like to run a lot of cheeky runs, convert one into two etc. my poor partner is a bit overweight. He wanted to conserve his energy and hit the ball out of the park. To his credit he did that in the end. So I nudged, cut, played, edged and padded my way around. The wides came as they would. I got off the strike soon enough. And I lasted the whole way till 45 overs. That’s easily an hour plus on the field concentrating hard enough. The banter on the field helped. The result was 75 runs being added for the last two wickets. I scored some ridiculously paltry runs of the bat. But staying there was important. I was quite relieved. I had set out with a clear objective. I would not lose my wicket. I would not get tired. I am happy I came out pretty ok. I learnt that diet and exercise is equally important.
An interesting one – post match when we were analyzing the performances, the captain was blasting the team on the fielding; he said that the youngsters had to show more commitment. He said he had three seniors in the side, the others had to do better. Well I could count two – one was 50 years old and the other was a 36 year old player. I asked the guy on my left (36 year old guy) “tu ek hai, who doosra hai, teesra kaun hai?” “tu hai gaandu” he replied. Oops. I became a senior player (read old slow fart) without realizing it.
I came home to my wife pretty pissed with Jispa. Jispa had been on her trip blaming Jasmine for everything. Anything goes wrong, it was Jasmine’s fault. Jispa pushed Jasmine too far. I had to come in and really get them both together. Jispa is easier. As a result of which we decided to give Jasmine the day off on Sunday. We would do everything. Pick up the stuff lying about, throw the clothes for wash, make breakfast and dinner, drive the car, make the bed etc etc. Well Jispa since I had to do everything, I had to pay for your shit! You better remember this one. You owe me big time.
Jasmine found it very funny to sit and do nothing. I only got respite when the maid came in the evening and Jasmine found it very very awkward to sit while I dried the clothes. Hehehe.
Jispa lost her second tooth yesterday. It came loose at the Oberoi mall while she ate a cheese cube. While putting it back in place it came off in her hand. The amount she faltu mein yelped in anticipation was really weird. Especially when it was her second one. When something gets into her head it’s difficult for any one of us to remove it.
For the record - the tooth fairy came again at night, left her a shiny new coin and a note for her on the whiteboard.

Birth Right

. Jasmine had gone to her mummy’s house for the delivery. It made sense as the hospital we wanted for the delivery was her aunt’s hospital right in the same building. And I am not too much of a stickler for tradition. I remember the doc saying that the delivery would happen at any time. We kept waiting and waiting. At the end on the 30th August in the morning Jasmine was admitted in to induce pregnancy. Jasmine called me to tell me such. The doc said that the procedure will take time and that any action would only happen in the evening. I finished my work and then went to boss to tell him that I would be not likely to come in tomorrow as my wife is admitted and is likely to deliver. He looks at me half agasht. What are you doing here is she is admitted. I say – chill, it’s Jasmine’s cousins nursing home and they say the action will happen in the evening. I was pretty cool. As predicted the action happened late at night. With my mom, mom in law, sister in law – all at the hospital. Jasmine’s cousin shooed them away by telling them that a lot of time is left. Then she got me in to the delivery room as I had requested. I was not going to miss this one for sure. I was by Jasmine’s head holding her hand. She squeezed it real tight. It hurt a bit afterwards. Jispa was born in the morning at around 2 am. The first thing I do after looking at the baby is I tell Jasmine “it’s Jispa”. We had decided the name long time back. Around a year back we had gone from Manali to Leh by road. Jispa is a small idellic village that we halted for a night. Dry weather, a river running through, high altitude and mountains around. I liked the place and I liked the name a lot. A name that is unconventional, not of a particular caste or creed and almost a global nationality.
We then called all the mothers in. We had some talk form them on wondering what the name would be. I let the banter continue for a while before telling them that the name is Jispa. My mom wanted to name her according to the rashi (celestial configurations). I told her to take a hike (in different words though:). Jispa is her name. A name with a dream attached. Someday I wish that she goes there, on her own (or with her partner), spend some time there, go for a trek around there, mediate and be one with her own air. A bit of inspiration.
Before she was born I used to sing to her, meri soni, meri tamanna, jhut nahin hai mera pyar. Jasmine and I used to laugh a lot saying my singing would make the baby cry inside. The morning she was born also, I have carried her singing the song. We realized that whenever she cried a bit and was inconsolable, singing this song would make miraculous quiet. It was her favorite song and I was a horrible singer. It worked!
Post delivery Jasmine needed me as well. She was made to eat all these stupid traditional stuff by her mother who thought it would be good. Ya sure. A lot of stuff is good for you but you just can’t eat it. Yuucckkk. I told jasmine to just throw it out of the window or in the drain. Normally I would not interfere too much, but once her mom pushed too hard. I got in and warned her “if you force Jasmine to have stuff against her will I will take her home” “butt…” she protested. “if you force jasmine to have anything she does not want, I will take her home” I firmly repeated with a dead pan expression. She got the point.
Just after Jispa was born, my office shifted from Nariman Point to Worli. I used to catch a bus from office and run to meet Jispa every day. Go in, wash your hands till your elbows, wash your face and then go real close. She would lick my face; eat (?) my nose. I would love to go in everyday, stay over at her place and play all day long. My mom didn’t like it. It was not proper. I didn’t care two hoots. My squash coach also just became a father. He was saying that he keeps going on and off. It doesn’t look too good if you go again and again. What shit? My wife, my daughter. I wouldn’t listen to any argument. I loved them; I would go and visit them. EVERYDAY.

THE song:

C'est la vie

Wowieee…. Jispa got her first taste of actual school life. Kindergarten was a breezy play way. Welcome to the first standard (first grade). Yesterday she had her very first (I quote) “boring lecture”. She had computers when her teacher took her to the computer lab and taught them computers. They had to just go there and sit on the seats without really doing anything. They were just explained about the computers without touching them. Hehehe. This was the first orientation lecture. I am sure it would get better over time.
Computer classes have surely changed in these years. We had computers when we were in 7th or 8th I think. That too it was a special lab done up in a special section. They needed special air-conditioned lab with us having to remove the shoes outside. This was an extra class done during vacations if I am not mistaken. These were black and white stuff and we learnt basic programming. Woooo. Computers were a big thing. Then also the first lecture was held in a classroom with the prof given gyan on the different parts of a computer. RAM, ROM, Monitor, Central Processing Unit (CPU) etc. It too was really a boring lecture.
I have to teach her to operate the internet. She already knows Google. She know that’s where we keep going to it to figure out stuff she wants answers to. I told Jispa that I would teach her to use the internet on Friday. I figure the laptop is old enough for her to damage in any case. She was pretty excited. She remembered it today as well. Good for her. She might as well get computer and internet friendly.

Look maa, new shoes...

Yesterday was Jispa’s first day in the first standard. She has new smart uniforms that show she is not a baby in the kindergarten anymore. I even saw her brand new text books. Seeing the text books made me feel a funny kind of sensation inside. I don’t like text books. Especially the ones meant for the younger standards. They don’t have happy memories for me. It created a tension of sorts for me. My memories of brand new text and note books (double line) books weren’t too good. We had teachers irritating us to cover them, with brown paper and plastic covers. Plus we were three kids with me being the youngest. Also new year in school started for us on the 13th of June. I remember it being rainy and the socks being wet, the school being a bit darker a lot damper. I just didn’t like it. Sure it was a good school at the time but somehow some teachers were a bit idiotic and irritating. Not child friendly and chilled out for sure. Till the third I was in Dubai and then the fourth standard was a real mess back in India. It was very difficult for me to make the transition. The wet, large classrooms. New guys around. Parents busy with the shifting. Just not happy and cheerfull. I got used to it a bit later in higher classes when one learns to eat a bit of salt :) while listening to the teachers. Jispa sure has it better. With fees that are at a multiple of 166x to the what I paid, it better be a better experience. Yes one hundred and sixty six times what I paid. For the record – I am not complaining.

Here is her standard uniform

and here is her Uniform for the PE days.

chilling under the midday sun

Just back from our favorite holiday. We had been to Manoribel at Manori. Jasmine and me love this as its just about an hour and a quarter away from home. Over pack whatever you want into the dam trunk and run along when ever you wake up in the morning.
It quite a laid back place with most of the staff consisting of local women. It amazing how the entire place runs with minimal male involvement. The men are limited to the watchmen and gardeners. Otherwise it’s women’s lib all the way.
This time we sent on a Wednesday and had Jasmine’s family join us over the weekend. They would normally be wary of coming to a place that has a common veg and non veg kitchen but Jasmine prevailed. Her brother just loved the place in the end. It’s nice in winter but I think it’s nicer in the summers. It doesn’t get hot on the hammocks and under the trees. The water at the beach is also nice and warm when we hit it at 4 pm. Thus we can swim in as much as we like without feeling cols or worry about catching one. A good book along the holiday is an absolute must to enjoy the hammocks. This time I bought the book Outliers by Malcom Gladwell. Good thing I brought this one along. At first I was planning to read the HBR on employee appraisals and I relaised that it was reminding me of office way too much for comfort, till the point that I wasn’t enjoying reading it. I had to chuck it fast. Offices are useless when it comes to transparency, keeping employees interest first, structured processes etc especially mixing common sense and fairness. I believe my notions are way too radical for offices with their myriad structures and politics to follow. So it was nice to chuck that book and pick up Gladwell. He just has this amazing ability to pick different studies, collate them and draw common strings to prove his point. Sometimes I believe it might be much too simplistic and he might overlook strong counter points but, hell it’s a best seller that he is writing and not a thesis. You take it as he gives. It is quite a different read once you are a parent. It almost reads like a parenting book and I would possibly recommend as thus as well.
On of the evenings we were having a discussion with Jasmine’s family (brother, mom, dad, everyone). We were talking Gandhi (jasmine’s dad is quite a gandhian), India etc. normally I am reticent in such conversations (see earlier blogs) but this time in front of family I felt comfortable to open out. I found myself quoting a large number of books for supporting view points. I found myself sounding quite erudite (forgive my self praise). I was surprised that I remembered this much from these many sources. All that reading seems to be helping me somewhere. I hope.
Normally my rule is that one book must give me atleast one take away. Imagining India by Nandan Nilkeni has given me several. I realised this in the conversation that I was having. I think that’s the power of well researched and thought through arguments. In fact I started a new thing thanks to that book. Half way through I took a pencil and started underlining what I liked. I looked up meanings of words and started writing them in the book. I hope to follow this from hereon. Its quite a revelation. I recommend that book fro anyone who wishes to talk, argue, debate, blah blah anything on India. I have not seen a book like this anywhere else.

Just outside we came across a shop that predominantly caters to the beach tourist. He inflates the price of the Kurkure chips by 5 bucks (25 instead of 20). I check the pack and sure enough a stcker that says – specially packed for picnic point – price rs. 25. what a scam. I tell the guy ‘com on – what rubbish is this?’ he doesn’t look me in the eye and smiles sheepishly and says, company has does this. What’s the real price I ask. 20 he says. Since he half admits by his smile and is a sweet guy, I pay the 25 in any case. But I like the scam. Why charge extra, just change the sticker. The novelty of the scam was worth the 5 bucks extra for me.

as random as it gets

Men are worse than women in gossiping. Women deserve an apology on our behalf. I think men seldom know, yet they can talk… yesterday at swimming was one case in point. We went swimming at the club and four men met in the middle of the swimming pool (I was among them). What followed was a 30 minute conversation on markets, depression and recession with much irreverence to the difference in terms or economic understanding. I am no opponent of shop talk but IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SWIMMING POOL. Come one for heavens sake. I took one lap – it was still on. Second lap – still on – third lap – still on… oh boy oh boy. Men can talk.

I remembered an interesting story that we learnt in school. It was in the poem section. This was the story of the a few blind men coming in contact with the elephant for the first time. With each of them having their own version of the truth. You know this one? No? Well here is the synopsis as taken from wikipedia. - In various versions of the tale, a group of blind men (or men in the dark) touch an elephant to learn what it is like. Each one touches a different part, but only one part, such as the side or the tusk. They then compare notes on what they felt, and learn they are in complete disagreement. The story is used to indicate that reality may be viewed differently depending upon one's perspective, suggesting that what seems an absolute truth may be relative due to the deceptive nature of half-truths.

Jasmine’s big brother got for his kid a game called K’nex. Basically it’s a game that requires one to assemble a structure that takes a ball to some height and takes it into a roller coaster ride down to ground zero. Pretty cool. My nephew had been on my case to get it sorted. This Saturday I convinced Jasmine to help with it. We started at 10 pm at their house. First bhabhi went to sleep. Then Jasmine’s brother went to sleep. Slowly my nephew too slept away. Jasmine and I kept going. Well finally it was done. At 5 am. Wow seven hours at a stretch. This was amongst the best 7 hours I might have spent with Jasmine. Jasmine and I have been friends for 19 years. We know what the other one would be doing. We know what the other one is good at. We typically don’t have ego wars when we are trying to do something together. Ego wars are reserved for other mundane things in life. Hehehe. Here is what we ended up creating.
Sometimes I wonder why so many people appreciate the copy that I write. Could I really be that good? To my mind no. if I were to comment on my copy I would rate it pretty average. But there is a reason why people like it. The rest of what we get is horrendous. Badly written prose is rampant. There are too many people who consider them too smart and write over smart copy. At least I write it within the private realms of my blog. I don’t write copy like this on mineral water bottles. This is so crappy. I wonder how this gets on to commercial production. Why would you want to liken your customer to a Broccoli?

“Some say you are what you eat; we believe you are what you drink. After all your body is 75% water. And who would like to be called a piece of broccoli anyway? Qua is 100% natural and well balanced with minerals. Better still, it’s bottled at source using advanced French expertise. You see the water in your body renews itself every six weeks. We suggest you replenish it with something full of minerals. And what better way to pamper your body than with a gift from nature. Oui?”

Oui?? What a way to get some French association for Himalayan water.

Such stuff is there on so many products. I am a compulsive label reader. I can’t get through an aisle without reading labels. First they try and put copy everywhere, which might not be a bad thing; but you have to have good copy and a good thought before you put stuff anywhere.

Here is an SMS I got from my electric company:
Dear Customer,Your Meter Reading Date for MAR-09 billing for CA No.1*&%$#@#7 (number masked by me) is scheduled on 14-MAR-09.Reliance Energy.

Why the sms? Why would I want to know the date you are reading my meter? Have they bought bulk smses from their sister company and are now using it up? God alone knows.

Here is Jispa reading at night before she sleeps.

Here is what the tooth fairy wrote for her.

That's her at the Kala Godha festival (kid's art section). Good job at organising the festival. very cool job they are doing. Kudos.

Jispa got a mechanical camera (reaaly cheap one, 28 mm lens with fixed f stop at 11. no clue what the shutter speed might be) at the festival (freebie). She already uses a digital one. I have put in a black and white reel in it. Lets see if I can click something interesting with it. If its the photographer and not the camera that counts then go ahead and shoot with it, bozo.

Moderate

We don’t appreciate the plurality allowed in our lives. I am tired of listening to Gandhi Nehru bashing over these many years. People argue without a clear understanding of either history or politics and without a remote inkling of the situation prevalent at the time. A complete waste of breath and brain time. I prefer silence in these situations.
Here is an extract from a Tehelka interview with Mani Shankar Aiyar. Of course it’s only a view point but it’s a view point that is informed and cannot be brushed aside. We give too little credit for the freedom we have. I hear of many ideas asking for a totalitarian regime in India. As I heard Nandan Nilekani say – ‘while totalitarian regimes could give you a miracle like China it could also give you a Zimbabwe.’ Democracy might be slower to rapid change but it also protects you from really horrific consequences. The question to be asked internally is the actually how much risk you are willing to take for the promised land. Another brilliant example of this can be experienced in the amazing Guy Delisle graphic novel ‘Pyongyang’ which vividly brings alive the life in North Korea.
Well here’s the extract of the interview.
Q. Why are our neighbours — Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka — prone to such convulsions? Why are they more precarious democracies than India?
A. The answer to this lies in the fact that Jawaharlal Nehru — who was Prime Minister for the first 17 crucial years of our upbringing as a modern nation — was dedicated to five very important principles of nation-building that our neighbours have not been equally committed to. The first of these is the idea of plurality and secularism. Under Nehru’s stewardship, India has, almost uniquely in the world, not only expressed its nationhood as a belief in diversity, but a celebration of it. Unity in diversity is the great subcontinental truth we all have to live with, if we want to survive as a democracy. It is not merely an ideal; it is pragmatic. All our neighbours who are in trouble are nations that have deviated from this to express nationhood in dangerously exclusivist ways.
The second thing is, Nehru was not only committed to the concept of democracy, but also to building the institutions of democracy. That bulwark has almost never been changed in our existence as a nation in 62 years. In Pakistan — under Mohammad Ali Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan — there was the same dedication to democracy, but their stewardship did not last as long, and their institutions were far less robust. So, despite an aching yearning for democracy among Pakistanis, they missed the bus by not having a Nehru among their midst in their formative years. The same thing happened in Bang - ladesh. At the beginning, there wasn’t the same commitment to building democratic institutions; soon after, with the brutal coup in 1975 when Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family were killed, whatever had been built up was brushed aside.
Sri Lanka’s record of democratic institutions was far superior to India. So why did they fail? With Solomon Bandar - anaike’s victory in 1956, Sri Lanka jettisoned the secular ethos with which it had fought its freedom movement and opted for sectarianism and an exclusivist Sinhala identity. Over the last 30 years, Sri Lanka has suffered such a setback because of this, it is almost impossible to remember that Sri Lanka was once poised to be the Singapore of this region.
Finally, the other Nehruvian principle that has kept our democracy robust is Nehru’s commitment to a ‘socialistic pattern of society’. He accepted the Gandhian ethic that the purpose of the state‘s economic policy was welfare of the poor. In Pakistan, on the other hand, there was a blatant and blanket adoption of the capitalist model. In 1965, it was the secondmost industrialised country in Asia, after Japan. But this was concentrated in the hands of 22 feudal families and the notorious ‘303’ — the civil servants in collusion with these families. All of this came crashing down when Ayub Khan undertook his coup. The other factor in the instability Pakistan faces today is the fact that they also happily allied themselves to the Americans. Pakistan was also founded on the principle that religion constitutes nationality. This is an almost untenable premise. If being a Muslim makes you belong to Pakistan, then why is there a border between Muslim Afghanistan and Muslim Iran? And why would some of its most bitter disputes have been with its Muslim neighbours? Religion is a very poor basis for organising a nation. For all these reasons, these nation states did not become as strong in absorbing the buffeting that all nation-building involves. But while we may be stronger and more stable than our neighbours today, we have to remember that the same potential for stability and democracy exists in our neighbours. And if we move away from these ideals of plurality and secularism, we have the same potential for being torn apart.
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It is true there are many lessons to learn form this but yet we choose to forget them and take the radical way out. Today’s newspapers had a headline that certain community leaders (kutchi wagad) decided to ensure that marriage happens only within the community. I cannot for one understand why they do this. Jasmine is a Kutchi (different sub catse from one above) and I am a Gujarati. Our family is enriched by the cross culture pollination (albeit small, as we are quite culturally close). And not just immediate families, even the distant families are enriched; may it be in simple stuff like new recipes to try out. Jispa is definitely better off exposed to more culture than less. Close minded radicals are ruining their own race. Modern day Nazis!
When the attack on crickets in Pakistan happened it was easy to blame a community as a breeding ground for radicals. But there are radicals all around us, in all communities. In times like this I fight forces in my head from being a conservative. It is tough being a moderate in face of immediate flare ups but moderate I must be.
Definition: In politics and religion, a moderate is an individual who holds an intermediate position between two viewpoints, neither to be extreme or radical by those applying the term. The word "moderate" can also be used as an adjective describing such a position. Read on - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moderate

While reading Mani Shankar, I was also reminded about another thing I once read. This was in relation to Pakistan’s tryst with capitalism. Disclaimer: do not use this in isolation to be an anti capitalist, but just as a case for more balance. It will also give you idea on why the world financial system finds it where it is.
In the 1930s and '40s, General Motors, the Firestone Tire Company, Mack Truck, Phillips Petroleum, and Standard Oil of California--all operating through a front company called National City Lines (NCL)--bought up dozens of local mass-transit systems that were operating the popular electric streetcars. Their plan was to control virtually all the leading mass-transit systems in America, and replace electric trolleys with smoky, gas-guzzling buses. In many cases, these trolley transit companies had previously been financially looted by their financier owners and fallen into disrepair, which only made them easier targets for acquisition. Once NCL purchased the trolley lines with "borrowed" money from GM and others, the tracks were torn up and the trolleys sold or destroyed, replaced by petroleum-powered GM buses running on tires and oil supplied by the NCL companies. Source - http://www.internalcombustionbook.com/archive/RJFall2006.html
Testimony to a Senate committee last year indicated that over the years GM bought and tore up electric railway systems in 56 cities throughout the country -- including New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Los Angeles. Some riders switched to GM buses -- more bought GM cars.
The fact is that the big 3 shape America's ground transport system. And the system they have produced -- roads clogged with millions of cars and trucks, pouring out pollution and consuming vast amounts of oil, while mass transit remains virtually nonexistent -- that system simply won't do. Source - http://www.library.arizona.edu/exhibits/udall/speeches/antitrust.html
This is a study of the social consequences of monopoly. It shows that excessive economic concentration can restructure society for corporate ends. As an illustration, it focuses on three powerful automobile companies which eliminated competition among themselves, secured control over rival bus and rail industries, and then maximized profits by substituting cars and trucks for trains, streetcars, subways and buses. In short, it describes how General Motors, Ford and Chrysler reshaped American ground transportation to serve corporate wants instead of social needs. Source http://www.worldcarfree.net/resources/freesources/American.htm

On another note I was surprised to know that when I typed promised land in word, it puts up a grammar correction, recommending to capitalize the initial alphabets.

kya scene hai

The 18th anniversary of meeting each other. Easier to remember as it was the 31st of December. Could it have been more clichéd? Its even around the same time. Even more clichéd. I even have a moustache like I had when I first met her. Clichés never cease. Hahahhahahah. This is so funny. I feel like an 18 year old.

slow down dude

Yesterday I got a new laptop from office. What was wrong with my old one. Well nothing really. You see it was a very impressive sony vaio which I had got around three years back. With 256 mb RAM it was a bit underpowered, but it never gave me any issues and it had a top class screen. Which is what I wanted in the first place. In my job screen resolution matters.
Then the company decides to go in for an encryption software. This protects the contents of my laptop in case it’s lost. Great. But it slows the dam thing. Then they install even better anti virus. Even better, but now it begins to crawl. Then the new anti virus scans every time I on the piece. This one is dead. Where do I bury it? I am sure some guy scared the shit off the company and recommended that we go in for the latest soft ware, which is good, and I don’t object to it. But I ma sure they would have been quite on the hardware upgrades required. In fact they would definitely not anyone that some of the older laptops would not get hardware upgrades as their motherboards are now obsolete and incompatible. Software upgrade can never be at the cost of productivity decline. I would come in the morning at 8.30, switch on the piece. Post which I would then read the newspapers, even the highly superficial Bombay Times. I would reflect a bit; have enough time to think of a blog post. The comp would purr in to life by 9.15. I would then click on the icon for outlook. Than I would click on the word icon. Word would load relatively faster. I would write my blog. Slowly as the scan completes my outlook would start working. In time for the office which technically starts at 9.30. I would post my entry and start my day. Give or take a few minutes.
In the meanwhile I got my requisition for the comp. I had asked for a 15 inch screen, laptop which weighed a brick but was fast and had decent resolution. They called for it. It came with vista home edition. It wouldn’t work on the LAN. Then they installed the XP operating system. Now the screen resolution drivers wouldn’t work. This lasted for 3 months post which I gave up and settled for the current smaller piece with a small screen and ok resolution. I am told it’s got 2 GB RAM. Wonder how long that should last before we upgrade the scanning software.
Now life is not the same. It’s like working in Goa for a year and then asking to adjust to the hustle bustle of Mumbai. I come in and switch on the comp and it’s started. I was confused. I was well adjusted to the relaxed routine. Now I really want to be a luddite.

the entertainer ... the entertainment...

Jispa is turning out to be quite an entertainer with multi faceted talents. We have realized that apart from a really crazy memory (jasmine blames my genes) she is also a good mimic (my genes get blamed again). After seeing Madagascar part two she loved King Julian. A complete whack out case meant for the loonies hospital. She started imitating him soon enough. He is also her favorite character She goes in this weird tone “hello, I am King Jullian” she does a decent job of it. another line “they give me some of their water and I give it to you”

If I thought it is restricted to cartoons I was happily proven wrong. In the middle she started imitating her friend’s younger brother A-tharva. She gets its pretty right. She goes “Jispa didi you know what, I made some nice coffee for you”. Obviously you cannot enjoy this on the blog. But then that reminds me I have to capture it on the handycam.
She also is learning some sketching. The other we were pretty amazed when she did this one of V-inu.

just ask for it

Now that Jispa has learnt cycling and V-inu has given us one cycle, we have discovered the fun of cycling in the mornings on holidays. With the lovely Bhakti park garden it was just a matter of time before we need one more cycle. So on Saturday we went to buy one more.
First we had to take our cupboard and ship it to a friend of Jasmine who could use it as we didn’t really need it. We were wondering how to ship it when we thought of the brain wave and attempted to fit it in the iTen. We folded the back seat and pushed the front seats to the max. We pushed the cupboard inside and secured it. Thus we were well set and I found it quite amusing to drive with my chin breathing down the steering wheel. After delivery we went to get the cycle. Getting the cycle back meant the same scene (well, almost same) getting repeated. A funny incident happened while we were buying the cycle.
When we wanted to fix the seat for V-inu’s cycle we realized we had all the spanners from size 5 to size 16 but did not have the crucial size ten, as the size 8X9 was repeated in the set. So at the cycle counter I asked for a 10X11 spanner as well. I really wanted a spanner with the round grip types. It easier to work with those. The guy working on fitting out my cycle was listening to it and said I could get from the hardware shop across. Suddenly he says, ‘arre paanaa (spanner) gira’ and he goes half way across the road. I assume he is going to buy the spanner for me. He returns from the middle of the road and asks me what size I want. I say 10X11. I then realize he has just picked up a spanner that just fell in the middle of the road. That was a 10X11 round grip spanner. I look on incredulously, ‘kya?’, “Yes sir, this spanner just fell and that’s why I went across the road.” “And it’s the size I want”. “haan sir.” Even as he looks on with amusement he says “kuch aur maangna tha, who mil jaata” hahahhahaa. It was like what I asked just popped from the heavens. I can’t believe it. Neither could Jasmine.

Yesterday we had coffee at Costa Coffee at their outlet at phoenix. They have three outlets in one mall. That’s aggressive. But they do serve excellent coffee. Café coffee day has lost their taste, Barista is getting it back but Costa comes out tops. What I love is also their friendly service. We were at the outlet below Croma and we ordered coffee (mocha – jasmine and my favourite) along with their bowl of salad. The coffee came out lovely as usual, but their salad was sadly bad. We have had this salad before at the Juhu outlet (nice) and this one was a disaster. Not fresh at all and only lettuce (90%). We spoke to the waiter, who said that it was fresh, till the manager called him and told him to agree with the customer. I told him to not waste it but simply top it with some fresh salad, carrots etc. It come back, with some top up, but no extra dressing. On being told, promptly it goes back and comes back with the dressing. Jasmine and me have it but somehow still did not like it. We call in the manager, a sweet guy called Rohan. We complain about it. He is apologetic but is surprisingly responsive. I ask him where I could write the feedback. He gives me the feedback form. We have this lovely cordial conversation. He didn’t get defensive at all. That’s a sign of good training. He accepts everything. At the end I thank him and say that I will write my feedback in detail and casually ask him if he has a refund policy. In fact I ask him ‘you don’t have a refund policy, right?’ wonder of wonders, he says sure and promptly gives me back my money. 3 seconds is all that it took. No screaming, no hassle. 100% money back. That too after I finished the salad. That is customer service. Costa Coffee – you rock. I am going to be back. Trying doing this at the other coffee outlets. Go ahead just try it.

I think this weekend, god just gave me whatever I asked for :)

A post script – I wrote a feedback mail to Costa Coffee – slamming the salad and praising the service. I get instant call back, apologizing for the salad. Whoa… pretty cool. I was the one telling him don’t worry. I will be back. I love you guys more now. Keep it up.
Take shit, convert it, turn it around – you have customers for life.

Footboards, what would we do without you

Today I took a much later train than usual. I was not used to crowded trains. The idiots didn’t make space for me to go in and I was left hanging on the footboard. Anyone who has used the Mumbai local trains for close to 18 years would be comfortable with the same. I first started to use the train independently when I went to college. My college was in Churchgate. That made me use the trains for the first time. Mom was worried and did not want me to go so far. It was only after my brother intervention that I was allowed. But that is another very interesting story. My dad explained me how to go. It was pretty confortable. Catching the 11.18 train from kings circle, get down at the next stop at Mahim and then the train from there to Churchgate. I got the hang of it pretty easy. I used to run across the track, jump fences, through the holes in the fences, run along the bridges, jump into running trains, travel at the footboard even if there was space inside etc etc. I wonder how I managed to come out unscathed from those years. As wisdom set in I started looking for space to sit, took foot bridges etc. But I still run for the trains. Something don’t change, some things take time.
But technically I have not come off it unscathed. Once I had to go to Mumbai central to catch a train to Gujarat. I was working there in 1998-99. Jasmine was with me. The train came at Dadar. It was crowded and Jasmine went into the ladies compartment and I boarded the one behind. I could barely get a foothold and a hand on the railing inside. I had a big bag which stayed out. As the train left the station slowly I realized that the poles are dangerously close. Suddenly one hit my bag; I tried to get it in place. Another one hit my bag. I took my free left hand and pushed it closer to my body. WHACK. The pole hit my hand, under the elbow. Wow that hurt. It hit the bone. Luckily I held on. I screamed to the guys to let me in. magically space opened out. They probably heard the sound or felt the desperation in my voice. I sat in examining the damage. No cut and no fracture (ratified later). I live relatively unscathed. Not that it stopped me from climbing crowded trains. Relentless Mumbai spirit?
Coming back to today. I was traveling on the footboard. But I was clearly uncomfortable. Very bearable crowd but just I guess I am not used to it. I am happier seated. Good for me I guess? I guess.

tut toot tooth

Yesterday was historic day in the annals of Jispa’s spectacular growth story.. ok ok. I do get carried away with my rubbish at times… yesterday Jispa encountered the super natural. But that would be a bit ahead of us, wouldn’t it? Let’s start from the beginning.
Jispa’s front tooth started moving a bit sometime back. She was pretty happy about it. She used to play with it with her tongue. Slowly but surely it began to hang loose. I kept looking at it. “Jispa do you want me to remove it. It will come out any moment. I can remove it now”. “NOOOO. DON’T. it will hurt.” “ok whatever you say”.
Yesterday I got a message from jasmine ‘Jispa asked me to inform all of you that her front tooth has come off’. What a momentous occasion. She was excited all day after that. I came home and clicked photos of the tooth and her toothless (one tooth less) smile. Shot some macros of the tooth in question, and even shot some videos. Jispa was asking if we informed everybody. She said that when important things happen one should inform everybody. Well we sure did her bidding. Everyone now partakes their share of this joyous event. I even asked for a cover containing Rs 1001/- from her uncles and aunts. No harm trying to get lucky. :)
At night we put the tooth in the tooth fairy box. We had bought this a year back! What enthusiastic parents we are, nah. Wonder of wonders. When Jispa woke up today she suddenly got up and checked her tooth fairy box. The tooth had been taken by the tooth fairy and instead she got a brand new swanky looking five rupee coin. The one that has the Gandhi Dandi march on its side. Wow. Pretty cool. Some kids have all the luck. She then suddenly noticed her whiteboard. The tooth fairy had even written a lovely note for her. Now this is too much. She got a personalized handwritten note. It said, dear Jispa, grow up well and fast, love tooth fairy. Boowooo… I never got this stuff… in comparison we live / lived such mundane lives.
Let’s see if lightning strikes twice, she still has a few more teeth to go.

To get an idea of the lives we led here is a ridiculously old photograph, circa August1978. I was three years old and my cousin was donating blood. That’s my dad carrying me and my er… rattle? And my brother being carried as well. My mom to my dad’s right and my sister standing in the front. Also if you see carefully you will realize while we donate blood in plastic pouches, the measuring units (slang) for blood typically is bottles.

My dad’s brother (holding my brother up) and his wife (beside him) used to be champions of the cause of blood donation. Somewhere around 1985 I remember visiting them and reading that they had been honored for donating blood some 50 times already. Wow. Those impressions I still carry in my mind and I try as much as possible to be available for any blood donation drive. In office I even made all my colleagues donate it. Monkey sees, monkey does.

a little bit of humility, please.

We had gone the other day to Imax Adlabs, now called Big Cinemas. We wanted to watch the dark knight on the Imax dome theatre. Should be fun, we figure, to watch batman and his nemesis magnified a zillion times. It is quite a crazy complex movie. I have already seen it once when it had originally released. Sitting back, researching it and then understanding it; made it important to see it again.
We sit nice and happy waiting for the movie to start at 6 pm. Five minutes on – no movie. Suddenly the national anthem starts with no warning. Everyone gets up. Oops. 54 seconds up and we sit again. More waiting… some music starts. Ok. Then suddenly the producer logo starts playing without the lights being dimmed. Ok. Then its stops. Ok. Then some more waiting. Some activity near the pursers cabin. The purser comes out and announces a technical snag. Five minutes more. The air conditioning is off. We start feeling warm. Then people start shouting for the screen to come on. Wise cracks fly all over the place. Suddenly the movie starts, sputters for a brief moment, dies a natural death. Now this is getting unnerving. It does seem like the joker is on the loose. 30 minutes up and the joke is on us. 40 minutes and lot of shouting and reassuring later the movie starts, but mind you, this is not the beginning, it is 5-10 minutes into the movie already. We resign to our fate and sit. Then we realize something is amiss. Oh come on… the soundtrack was not in sync. In the action scene it didn’t make a difference. The bullets were whizzing all over the place. But when the dialogues started one realized that the sound was actually five seconds before the scenes. Weird.
Every one got up, screamed. They stormed out. In a few minutes one came back and announced that they were giving refunds. The crowd and the action moves to the box office. The manager is trying to pacify the crowds. The crowd is asking for something more than just a refund. The manager does some calling and figures that he can give a refund along with a chance to watch the movie again till Thursday. Who watches movies on weekdays?
We see an ironic poster – if you have feedback please sms us. Type WOW followed by your feedback to xxxx. What shit? How preposterous. Forcing me to type wow automatically turns me off when I want to send negative feedback regarding something. Eliminating negative feedback is how people grow.
I don’t understand this stuff. There is no power given to any manager. The dome runs on 5 to 10% capacity in any case. The cost of the screen, staff and AC is fixed in any case. If something goes wrong, why can’t you just offer a complete refund instantly along with a free voucher to see the movies again? This way if the guy comes in again at least you make money off the popcorn and cola, which is a ridiculously high margin item. I would have given at the very least a free movie ticket and a free upgrade your pop corn voucher. This way I am sure he will but some pop corn and hopefully some colas along with. But no… these chains will spend on the décor, the funny irreverent advertising but will have no standard procedures for any delay, technical snags etc. Instead of converting customers to ambassadors they will ensure dissatisfied customers. I understand arrogance when your halls are full, but the dome runs empty. Use it you idiots. Give tickets left right centre. Do anything. But have a customer appeasement program, please. Even the marginal cost of the pop corn tub and Pepsi cannot be more than 5-10 bucks. If some stupid tax laws do not allow you to give free tickets use the dam pop corn. BUT for heaven sake do something. Aagggghhhhhhhhh.
I once had a chat with the brilliant guy (not a sarcastic comment) who did the Adlabs advertising. They did some smart stuff on the posters etc. My take was simple. That’s lovely stuff, but if your staff is unable to follow through then you risk having a higher expectation and ridiculously high difference in expectation standards. This is exactly what played out. This makes me hate advertising and marketing. Sometimes it better for your organization to talk less and behave better. Humility pays.

Everone loves Suman

When I first came to my current company, it was Suman Horo who was sitting behind me, or should I say, I got to sit behind Suman, sharing a largish open cubicle. One of the jobs thrusted upon me was third party alliances. I had no clue what that meant. It involved dealing with the mutual funds and negotiating with them on behalf of the company. To put it mildly I was – well – lost. I know nothing beyond the basics of mutual funds, nothing about brokerage and nothing about whom to interact with. Suman on the other hand was an expert. He knew the entire industry. I was commercial and he was the fundamental part of dealing with the funds. He would research the funds and I would get the best brokerage. When I first met him I could sense no political bone. A straight sweet guy with no airs and no arrogance. Mutual fund dealings from a distributor side can get heady. You have the senior guys and who’s who talking to you, trying to get on your side, hoping to do something that will influence you to recommend their fund. This has of course resulted in a lot of inflated egos from our ilk. Suman was an exception. With me as a willing student, he got me introduced to a lot of people. He got my name on their lists. The spams of course, but also to the Diwali and Christmas lists of the funds. He saw no territorial issues. We both could get along pretty well. We had a common boss. We even fought on the same side with him. Ganging up for something we believed in. he believed in me, I believed in him. It helped the firm. We worked as a team, in tandem.
It’s rare to get such stuff from office colleagues. When I first came in and was arranging my table. He generally looked behind and asked me – do you play cricket? A ha – what a question to ask, do I play cricket, do birds fly, do fish swim. At that time it self, I pulled out a trophy of mine (some cricket tournament) and showed it him. Great he got me into a team he was helping form for the internal tournament. Suddenly I emerged captain that tournament and he my most reliable player. We played many matches afterwards. Every time I need a sane head to bat or bowl I turned to him. It wasn’t that he was exceptionally talented, but he had a quiet grit. The ability to back himself within his limitations. He would bat and bowl with a clear head and a strong heart. We really got along well.
When he finally resigned from our company, I really felt bad. He was a good resource. It was not for him to handle his bosses. He played it like he saw it. He was simple and wasn’t the one to be given to any outbursts. He did what he could do best, use his feet.
We kept touch though we were in rival companies. Whenever I need to understand something I would call him and vice versa. He was my listening board for my frustration and ideas. The only guy among bankers who could appreciate creativity. We used get together for chai often, wenting our ire. It was therapy for sure.
In many ways he was my elder and it was a pleasure to know him, to work with him. I learnt quite a bit from him. In many forums where the mutual funds used to gather us we met. I always wanted to be with him. He translated the stuff for me from financial stuff to common sense. And when I used to get bored from it all and say ‘kya fart hai’ he would humbly smile and agree. This one photo I clicked of him at the Bandra Worli sea link which we had gone visiting. That’s his normal smile.
And this one is the one he has clicked of me standing on the new Bangalore airport runway. The two photos together tell the whole story. I was always cynical and wanted to laugh at everything. Everything was fart and one big picnic. He would always smile and understand. Very amiable. He would let you lead anything. He was confident about his role, his knowledge and his work.
Doing all this and still getting respect and love together from a cut throat and selfish industry is no mean achievement. Everyone loves Suman. They would regularly praise him. Great guy. I love him and I learn from him. I even shared my Chakrams with him which he took home for his daughter Noella. Very cute kid. Looks like him too.

One often is over effusive when one feels the loss, but Suman was one great guy who deserves everything I said so far and much more. I felt the wind go out of my lungs when on Saturday I learnt that he passed away due to cardiac arrest. He was around 36 years old. The industry was shocked and they all felt the loss… though…

…I cry alone.

kusang ka phal

As a part of my job I am required to handle the PR activities. This involves pushing people to talk to the press. Some hate it. They are generally the smarter ones. The others love it. This is a bunch of mixed characters. But I love the ones that start falling in love with themselves, they are ones who love going on TV, talking to the press and generally like to see their names in print. They fall in love with their theories, their own voice, their own image and personality. Even they talk gibberish they don’t notice it. All the world’s press feeds off this tendency of individuals. Not that I am above it. Everyone has it, the degrees vary. I have seen enough of these chronic cases. I remembered the Greek mythology of Narcissus, about the boy who fell in love with his own reflection. I so love that story. Now you know where narcissist comes from.

Most narcissists are typically egged on by those around them. ‘Yes men’ and genuine adulators alike are to blame. It requires sane shoulders or a cynic to help stay in line. I guess that’s why old friends are needed, level heads are needed. People who show you your true picture and not your image.

The importance of peer group is often under rated by the younger lot who do not believe they can be swayed but over years this is repeatedly proven otherwise. Today morning was an interesting case in point. At her bus stop, her friend (elder to her) was reading a book instead of generally hanging around. Instantly Jispa removes a book from her bag and starts reading it as well. I rest my case :)