Its a mans world

"Why are women stupid?" Asks Angel Doc in her latest post. She thinks it is because a woman has more emotional needs. And one can play with this need to exploit her without much effort.

I think so too.

A woman is considered stupid if she behaves like a woman. At least at the workplace. The reason, it is not professional to do things like burst into tears. But bursting into tears is a perfectly normal thing to do. The word professional denotes “being like a man.” In fact a woman is considered stupid if she doesn’t realise early enough that it is a man's world out there and feminine emotions have no place here...except perhaps at home.

Compared to man a woman is definitely more emotional. She is wired that way. Nature wired her that way. This was because Nature intended her to be a child bearer and nurturer. I know a lot of people especially women will take affront at this statement. They would say that a woman is more than that….she is a career woman and other things besides being a mother and wife. I agree. A woman can do all the things a man can do. But that is not my point here. What I am trying to say is that why should a woman prove herself capable of men’s jobs to command respect? Why cant she be respected for being a woman and doing a womans job?

From hunter gatherer, man made rapid changes. He evolved into a corporate being. The woman on the other hand still stuck to her role as home maker. She never kept pace with the giant leap that the human male made from a primitive hunter gatherer to corporate honcho leaving the human female very disoriented in an increasingly male oriented world.

This rapid change led to enormous suffering for women till laws were framed to help them cope with the changes in the society and environment by right thinking ‘men’.

Soon women started wising up. They realized that to be successful career women they would have to behave like men and cast aside their feminity when they entered the portals of the workplace. They worked like men, thought like them and fought corporate battles, won hostile takeovers and showed the world that they could do it! But how long will the woman have to conform to a man's world to show they have arrived? When will workplaces get feminine?
We have offices and building that are handicapped accessible. But how many buildings are "women friendly"? Except for the toilets every other space is manly. Nowadays companies like mine place a rose on every desk to add a feminine touch or perhaps it is their way of saying that the visual appeal of the flower should make me more productive!!

I got a forward that showed a world ruled by women in a rather cute way. I am sure guys guffawed at the ppt and the women would have thought it cute. But it got me thinking. Why can’t we have a mouse cum eye make up kit? Toilet roles in different colors and shades? Parking slots painted bright colors and other obvious feminine touches to drab everyday life. These are of course exaggerations but I think the world needs a feminine touch to balance the way our lives are moving.

Equality of sexes is bullshit. A woman can never measure up to a man or vice versa. Equality of sexes can only happen when men and women are treated as different genders and not as a unisex whole.

I know there people who will argue that the male way of working is more productive. But what if female had a say in the scheme of things? I am sure our work life wouldn’t be stressful like it is today and we would be much happier and more humane human beings.

"For all you men out there who marvel at professionally successful women please remember the ones amongst us that best adjusts to the male world are termed successful. The rest are condemned as failures because we couldn’t rise above our feminity"

Modern Devdases

I have known A and B since high school. A fell in love with B sometime in the 11th Standard. B considered A a friend. Despite his best efforts B could not reciprocate his love. Because B always considered A her friend. A was a little sad at the outcome. But he had no one to blame. B had never led him on or given any indication of any romantic interest in him.

A has a blog too. Time and again I have seen posts about a certain "her". He writes about missing her. The way she smiled or frowned. Time and again on Google chat I get "I miss her sooo much" kinda messages.

A is not alone. I have several male friends, colleague and acquaintances like him. People who make a big hue and cry about their lost love, people who seem to love to wallow in self-pity and use even a casual romantic interest to become a modern devdas.

I have never understood this attitude of some guys. They seem to enjoy making a mountain out of a molehill of love. And all these cases, at least the ones I know were not love in the strictest sense. But these guys love to revel in the nostalgia of lovers who were parted a la Hindi movies.

I recently saw a guy friend’s Flickr album. He had been through a brief period of dating this gal. By brief I mean about a couple of dates. They never dated after that. Today I beheld his album in horror and amusement. There were pictures of him in many poses. Under each photo were various captions like "I am an island. An Island cannot be hurt" and "I have hurt enough. No one can hurt me anymore" and "Thinking of her" etc. This was a friendship which happened right in front of my eyes and I know how casual a coffee date that was.

In all the above instances, the guys seem enjoy their Devdas status and nurture it to supreme ecstatic pain. However they seem to miraculously forget their old love the moment another gal showed an interest in them :p

I just cannot understand guys like these. Girls on the other hand will clam up if they were hurt in love or cry. But only if it was a serious relationship.

The above attitude of some guys though amusing can be exasperating for friends like me who invariably have to sit and listen to his sighs and reminiscences. Of course it is no point drilling sense into him. He doesn’t want to "get over her" because then what will he groan and moan about?!

“Unrequited love” seems to be a fashion statement with some guys these days.

Hogi barthene*

Mr and Mrs Rao were my neighbors. They were a happy couple, simple and friendly. They had two sons, both working in India. Soon their eldest son took up a job in the US and left taking his family with him. The second son too followed. Mr and Mrs Rao though alone lived a full life, going to the temple and the various Brahmin prayer meetings, get together etc. Soon age started taking its toll and both of them were hospitalized at various times for various ailments.

Their eldest son came down and took them to live with him. Though the couple was happy, they missed India and the land of their birth, Mysore . Soon Aunty learnt to email and my mom and the other ladies in the neighborhood got regular emails from Mrs Rao, regaling us with tales of two bumbling old Indians and their misadventures in the US. Aunty had an earthy sense of humor and an ever-present smile under her diamond nose studs, while uncle was a kind and humble man. Maybe I am shrouding them with an aura of saintliness, but my memories of them are very warm.

They came down soon after for a wedding and a break from the US winter. The wedding, meeting relations and the spirituality of the place tugged at their heartstrings and they decided not to go back.

But life was a struggle alone, as their siblings were old too and they soon faced the prospect of going back to the US. Their search for an old age home in Bangalore was futile and soon they were winging their way back to the US. Uncle fell sick and died in the US. The family came down to India for the burial. Aunty was inconsolable and died two months after Uncles death. Fortunately for her she met her end in Mysore, her hometown. The town where she as a little girl helped her grandfather with the temple rituals and met and fell in love with Uncle during a Dassara music recital.

Aunty died two months ago. When I look at their now empty house and the tulsi plant in the courtyard I feel an awful emptiness. This place bustled with energy and activity a few years back. I had grown up watching her perform pooja in front of the tulsi plant from my balcony. The waft of the agarbaththi spreading gently in the wind mingling with the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans that she would have ground and put in the percolator before doing the morning pooja. I will give my right arm for another steel tumbler of that heavenly coffee she used to make many years ago. She taught me how to drink without touching the tumbler to my lips, the Brahmin way. I learnt a lot of Brahmin rituals and traditions from her as she loved puttering around the garden with me.

After pooja she would always look up to smile at the little girl on the balcony who watched her intently almost hypnotized by the ritual. She would wave or sometimes cheekily blow a kiss blushing at the act and giggling. I don’t think I ever missed a single pooja except on weekends when I slept late. She looked radiant in her silk saree that seems to be a daily wear for Brahmin ladies in Karnataka. Her hair would be adorned with fresh jasmine and her silver anklets tinkled as she went around the tulsi plant. For a Christian kid like me this was an engrossing sight.

I remember the various Dasara’s we celebrated together and the amazing sweets aunty made. I remember Uncle pleading with us kids to keep quite as their sons were in final year Engineering College and needed some peace and quite to finish their studies. I remember aunty scolding Uncle for telling us to keep quite and then telling us indulgently to make as much noise as we can and uncles mock exasperation at her lenience with us, the noisy neighborhood brats. I remember the hot obattu that would land up at home whenever she prepared some at home. Tea time was synonymous with aunty’s obattu. So many good memories….

I took so much for granted. So many people for granted. But people around me are aging. Soon they will be gone. But Mrs Rao’s death has taught me something. That time is so precious, especially with your loved ones.

Rest in peace Mrs Rao. Dassara and Mysore and the neighborhood will never be the same without you.

*goodbye

Hope lies beyond the border...

My mail box is flooded. Seems like it is placement time in Kerala colleges. Words like Tata Motors, Accenture, Infosys, Maruti is floating around my Inbox like happy confetti. These are joyful mails from my cousins announcing their placements.

In this happy cacophony there is one sad note...of a cousin sister who is placed at a leading IT company in Trivandrum Technopark. When my mother called her to congratulate, she burst into tears. She is the only one in my family who has been placed in Kerala. The rest are all leaving to Mumbai, Bangalore, Gurgaon, Pune etc.

This year itself there are nearly 12 students from my family alone who are leaving Kerala. So you can imagine the volume of freshers leaving Kerala this year. These people have counted the days to finish their college and leave. They love their State, town, language just like you and me. But as educated thinking adults they can sense that the present "political culture" will not change for a long time and they are in no mood to be willing victims of a system when they have a way out. They are fed up of the closed mentality and the humiliations and helplessness of belonging to the silent majority while the powerful minority of goons rules the roost and the throne. Escape is the only way.

Soon they will join the "reminiscence" crowd that misses the carefree days of college, life in Kerala and naadan cuisine from the safety of Mumbai, Bangalore, Delhi etc. And the cycle will repeat itself every year.

Best of luck to you all !!! Do well in your professional and personal lives. I hope and I pray that when you guys are ready to hang up the boots, Kerala would have changed and you will be making a beeline to your true home and hearth that God willing would have earned the sobriquet "God's Own Country".

Sour gripes

On my desk lies a variety of colorful stuff, or at least it used to till some time back. I have a jar of Jelly Sweets, toffees, candies, Jeera Sweets, a colorful container full of pens, pencils, erasers, whiteboard markers etc. Besides the sheer color, it adds a welcoming touch to my desk. These things are specifically kept on my desk so that anyone can help themselves to it.

Now my desk is barren.

The reason? People in my office just "love" the knick knacks on my table and love to drop by for a sweet. They think I am "so sweet" to be doing this. Some even develop an addiction for Jelly Sweets and go ‘Cold Turkey’ if they do not have one every hour. They keep talking of buying the same for their desk but apparently cannot because they are 'dieting'!!

They "must" have some Jeera sweet after lunch. It becomes a habit and after lunch droves of people land up opening the jars and generally hanging around eating the same and chatting. Sometimes I think I should just vacate my chair so that people can sit down comfortably and eat and chat at my desk. These people “just love” the Jeera sweets but regretfully cannot keep some for themselves because they will keep popping it in their mouth and hence consume too many unwarranted calories.

And if even once the jar is empty I get odd looks and enquiries as to when it will be filled or patronising jibes about my laziness to go shopping.

To makes things worse it takes some time for the whole floor to know when your stocks are low and the result is that people keep dropping now and then. This means irritating questions like "what no sweets?" when it obvious the desk is empty to annoying taps on your shoulders as you are logged into a conference call, with people whispering "where is the sweets?" . The whisper is to ensure that your conference call is not disturbed!!

People stopped using their pens because my pen holder was there to make use of. Of course no one except a few bother to return it. Some will even make a small noise of irritation if they come to my desk and see the pen holder empty. And these are not even my team mates!!

Now my desk is bare. I hate it. I love the color the jars brought to my table and friends dropping by for a sweet or some toffee. But then there are people out there who think they can take your generosity for granted.

My desk is bare now but my cupboard is not. But it is firmly locked :)

Duh!

A mail I got from an unknown blogger recently.


Hi,
I am ABC. I came to your blog via Kerala Blog Roll.Add me to your blogroll. See you there, Bye.


I wrote back that the people who figure in my blogroll are people I read 'regularly' and I would definitely add his blog if I find his writings interesting. He writes back.


Ok,start reading my blog 'regularly' and add me quick.


Of course I never replied back.

The young and the helpless...

Just saw the news and was shocked to hear of a poor father who pushed his small daughter down a bridge into the river hoping it will kill her. The reason...the child suffers from a rare disease and it will take at least Rs 2 lakh to treat her. The father is a poor laborer with 5 other children. What more can be an outstanding example of the vicious circle that grips our poor and marginalized? Man is poor. He doesn’t know about contraception. Has numerous kids who are potential bread earners for the family. But if they become ill then they are potential disasters for the family.

I am not pointing fingers at anyone here. But I can feel the father’s pain and desperation here. I am not condoning what he did, but what could he do? Would anyone shell out the money to treat his kid? And even if there are organizations who do that how is a poor illiterate man to know whom to approach? He did what he could do to alleviate his child's pain. Poverty doesn’t give you too many choices.

News like this though shocking is something we read and ignore in a hurry because we ourselves are helpless. We can only feel pity or anger at the father or at the system.

The news will attract attention. Funds will pour in from kind individuals. And the child who was rescued will get good treatment. But there are many parents out there who are unable to treat their kids and have to silently watch them suffer and die. What can be more heartbreaking? Knowing that your kid could have been saved but you had no means to save him or her!?

I know it is easy to blog about this and make the right kind of noises. But right now I can feel the helplessness of the father of that little girl. What he did was horrific, but none of us can point a finger at him unless we have done our little for the welfare of the poor.

Addendum: Latest report on the little girl

Those were the days...

Another Home for the Aged Fest is around the corner. The Fest bring so many memories of joyful IT less old Bangalore.

October is the time we cut the fruit for the Christmas cake and soak it in Rum or Brandy. October is when we start our Christmas Carol practices too. October is when we have the Fest also known as Charity Bazaar at the Little Sisters of the Poor 'Home for the Aged', Hosur Road. This is the time I get up in the morning to the smell of baking and cooking as my mom starts preparing her contribution to Bazaar…the proceeds from the sales are given to the nuns to run the Oldage home. This is a unique bazaar where the entire Catholic Community of Bangalore comes together and contributes their time or various items to be sold at the various stalls. When I was in school and college we usually manned the games stalls. This is a day of family outing and fun that we look forward to every year.

There is a large population of Goans and Mangaloreans and East Indians settled here from many generations. They evolved the now famous Bangalore Culture. Soon Malayalees too started coming into Bangalore and many like us were assimilated into this community. We learnt a lot from this community. Community spirit, sharing and most importantly, religion as a way of life and not a Sunday activity restricted to Sunday Mass, getting together with family and friends on Fridays and Saturdays and Sundays or any other excuse for a drink and the uniquely traditional Sunday lunch.

In this community, boys and girls grow up together and one will never see men and women sitting separately at parties and get togethers. Drinking alcohol in this community is as natural as drinking water. And young boys grow up treating alcohol as no big deal. They learn to drink responsibly. And as get togethers are frequent, the need to imbibe alcohol just for fun is also non existent. Which is why this community drinks for pleasure and never to get drunk.

I grew up taking such a life for granted. It was later as I grew into my teens that I found the striking dissimilarity in this culture and the Kerala culture (?) on my visits to Kerala and to relations place here in Bangalore. I found the whole of concept of the ladies sitting and gossiping in one room and then men sitting and drinking in another absolutely stupid. And when these two groups did talk to each other (more as a formality), the men would talk condescendingly about the ladies shopping sprees and the ladies would joke about the men’s drinking. All very prim and propah segregated meaningless conversation and interaction.

Those days most of us lived in the Bangalore cantonment area. So getting together was easy. Carol singing was also easy. Today all those old homes have been sold to developers and most of the families have moved into the flat given to them by the developers or have moved to the suburbs. We had some great dances at the Catholic Club then, as curfew was unheard of. We went in groups for the dances and after the dance jumped the wall into St Patrick’s for the 5:30 am mass and then went home and crashed out.

We attended Sunday Mass as a group and then went for breakfast at some Darshini. Breakfast after Mass is a unique Bangalore tradition and most eateries would be filled with families having breakfast on Sundays. However I must thank IT because it provided employment and most of my friends and classmates are employed here in Bangalore.

Bangalore had a name for some of the coolest private parties… parties where people enjoyed dancing, sing song sessions and not what outsiders thought…i.e getting pissed drunk and misbehaving. Later as the IT crowd started coming into Bangalore, desperate for action, the segregating of the ‘old Bangalorean’ and ‘new Bangalorean’ started taking place. We keep our distance from the ‘new Bangaloreans’. Many of the so-called ‘new Bangaloreans’ have imbibed the spirit of old Bangalore. And I feel glad to see that. Today I have colleagues begging me for an invite to our do’s because “you guys party like no on else’. It is the greatest compliment I have ever received. They have learned to relax and enjoy the evening without getting dressed to kill and enjoy people’s company without wondering what their net worth is.

When I see, newcomers calling themselves ‘Bangaloreans’ I can only sneer. These guys don’t even know what being a Bangalorean all is about.

But I still miss my old Bangalore :(

If I could stop time...

A year older, a year wiser I hope. Happy birthday to me!

I am in an overly senti mood today :p Partly due to overwork and sheer tiredness and mostly due to coming home after a week and realising how much I missed home and my family. So people who dont like senti better close your IE/Firefox and run for your life cos today I wanna acknowledge some people in my life who keep me going. These people are the bulwark of my life.

First and foremost two wonderful people, my amma and achchan who bought me into this world because they 'wanted' me.

Mitu: My best friend, who is always there though she is so far away now.

Sunitha: Just your presence in my life is enough blessings for me.

M: Dumbo, you are the greatest.

S: Younger bro of M, for being the sweet brat you are with the wisdom of a 100 year old.

SP who inspired/goaded/nagged me to blog. I am so thankful you came into my life when you did.

Trish, for being a sis I never thought I would have.

Chanel, for your down to earth attitude. Girl you are my reality check!!!

Jisha, my sis from another mother.

Chithra, for your undying faith in me.

Pavithra: My clone.

JK for being there always. Sometimes I think I dont deserve a friend like you.

Chacko: Dude u rock!!!

Seb: My cousin bro....for driving sense into me when I needed it most last year. For making me realise who I am, where I come from and my legacy.The guy who is responsible for My Think Pad. When I look at you I realise how the "K" family will always be there for each other. I remember the days we the cousin brigade slept in the same room, telling ghost stories late into the night and the fun we had as kids. I owe you a lot of good memories!

My bro M, for always being there. For tolerating my overdependence on him, from a tyre puncture to a drop at the mall to picking me up from work and driving me all over town looking for that 'Nursery' that sells that 'exotic plant' I 'think' I read about somewhere. Somehow, in his scheme of things this brat was always a 'somebody' never a 'nobody'.

My eldest bro G for his unabashed adulation for every crap I write.

My wonderful large family back in Kerala, for their fierce loyalty and undying love. I find my identity in you guys.

My blogpals for your lovely posts and thoughts that are my mainstay during tough days. Keep blogging I rather read your posts than anything else. In fact nowadays I prefer the down to earth writings of bloggers to the "commercial writings" that journalism seem to have become.

JP, a friendship I will always cherish.

And 'Vagamon'. Naah this is not a hot dude, but a place where I find so much peace.

Guess I have a lot to thank for this July 6th.

p.s I am on leave for my budday. Yay!!!!!!

A tag

I have been tagged by Mathew and Alex. Rules of the tag, write 8 random things about yourself and tag 8 people. So here are some very boring facts about myself.


I don't like laptops. I prefer a PC.

I am not fond of modern poetry, cannot understand it and hate people sending me their poetry for comments. And every one one of my friends is into poetry. If I see another one I will gag arrgh!

I love to cook and cooking gives me great creative satisfaction. The more complicated the recipe the better.

I have a green thumb and my garden at home is a treasure trove of exotic plants. Each plant is my baby and every morning, come rain or shine I check on them.

I never drink alcohol at parties though I love my White Wine and Rum and Cola. But I prefer to drink at home with my family or friends.

I like long drives with music.

I am a good singer but stopped singing after people started forcing me to sing at every family gathering in front of people. I hate it even now when I see kids being forced to sing or recite poetry in front of guests. But when I am alone I do sing.I hum constantly.

I can read, write and speak in Malayalam. At home we speak Malayalam only according to parental diktat.

I am not tagging anyone as my last tag had some disastrous consequences and the women of Kochi are right now burning my effigy :(

:p

Right now I am listening to this awesome song !!

The girl-child-wife

On Sunday, a junior of mine from college Ritu, gets married. She is barely 21. While I am happy for her, I do feel sad that she would never get an opportunity to grow as an individual. She like many girls who have got married at her age, will never get to enjoy the freedom of being a single working woman. It is only when a girl starts working and become independent that her real personality emerges. The work atmosphere, responsibility and people who treat you like an adult unlike college and home, liberates the real you that is subdued and pruned by a sheltered upbringing an Indian girl undergoes.

Since I have been working for a couple of years now, I can see the changes in me. What I thought was bad feels good today, what I thought was good doesn’t feel so good anymore. What I thought was cool feels uncool today and a lot of other changes in the way I look at life and deal with people. If I had got married soon after college I would never have discovered the real me or completed my growth process.

Ritu’s parents like most Indian parents are worried that a girl if left unmarried too long will become too independent and will hence be unsuitable for marriage. And I suspect this is the reason she is being married off so early. A girl with individuality will not be a subservient wife which portends bad tidings for the marriage. Every effort is made so that the girl does not get to taste freedom and that she is transferred from the guardianship of her parents to the safekeeping of the husband. There is also the fear that the girl may not want to marry after being independent for some time.

While it was imperative for girls to marry a few years back due to the security blanket it provided, nowadays it is totally unnecessary to push a girl into marriage; especially since she will anyway grow as an individual and may soon find that her husband and she think in different directions. By getting a girl married early, parents are only increasing the risk of divorce as ‘divorce’ is not a dirty word anymore.

Indian guys on the other hand don’t face this problem and more or less retain their individuality while growing up while girls are taught to conform and willy nilly bought up in a "certain way". It is all about conforming, personal happiness be damned. When will parents learn? After the society is strewn with the carcasses of marriages? Why do we learn lessons the hard way? Why don’t we change with the times?

I wish Ritu a happy married life. She will need my wishes and a lot more in the coming years.

The truth is out there... Google for it idiot!!

One of the most lucrative professions of the future will be teaching people the knack of getting the right " search keywords". If you can master Google search "keywords" you can make millions teaching those who run from pillar to blog post searching for things from Paris Hilton underwear to Brad Pit sperm.Dont believe me? Just take a look at the "keywords" that bought some people to my blog today. Please do consider taking this up as a profession and you may just bring eternal rest to the bhatakthi aatmas of the cyber world.

Good ole days of English

My little cousin sister from Ernakulam called up today morning. She was all excited. Her doggies, a Daschund and a Lhasa Apso had given her a puppy. Though she was disappointed that there was only one puppy she was nevertheles happy that she got a brand new puppy to play with.

Minu: Chechi my puppy is sooooo cute!
Me: You are such a lucky girl!!! How does it look like?
Minu: It looks like a loooooong Lhasa Apso
Me: Great! And what have you named it?
Minu: Dick!!!!
Me: What??? err...I mean how nice heh heh

How I envy her! I miss the days when a 'cock' was a rooster and a 'screw' was a hardware item and 'hardware' was...guess you know what I am talking about. Enjoy the freedom while it lasts dear Minukutty!

Life is like that!

He: You bring out the best in me!
She: Anything for ya buddy!
He: But I think there is a lot of scope for improvement in me!
She: Really? And what do you plan to do about it?
He: How about Coffee this Friday? *grin*
She: Naaah!! You are just perfect!

:p

Games people play!

If there is one single thing in my life that I most cordially hate, then it is people trying to fix me up. Yeah I mean matchmaking. How much ever people justify it, matchmaking is not right. It sort of takes away your right to make your own decisions and choices. I have been a victim so many times that I have lost count.

It is not flattering to be calculatingly nudged towards a guy especially if you have some grey matter in between your ears and can judge for yourself if you like the guy and would like to be introduced.

I have never indulged in match making myself because I think it is interference in a person’s personal life. I have faced situations where a guy who fancies a gal in my friends circle has requested for an intro. If I know the guy fairly well and am convinced of his sincerity then I do tell the girl of his interest. Never more than that. Then it is upto the girl to take it further or reject him. And if the girl was not interested then no power on this earth will make me try and convince her otherwise even if God himself tells me to!!!

The most irritating thing about some guys is that they go overboard when trying to match make a friend with a gal. When a girl shows disinterest they take it upon themselves to somehow convince the girl to the contrary. This includes subtle hints to the good character of the guy and pointed references to his undying interest in her etc. I have seen some disastrous relationships take birth due to this. All because some people did not want to respect a person’s right to make a choice and say “no”. I must at this juncture admit that there are girls who cave into such pressure and that some match made relationships do blossom too. But then it still does not justify the aggressive matchmaking described above.

I just wish people who match make realise that there should be interest in both parties before they start aiding and abetting the couple. I wish they realise that they are responsible for the consequences of their action. Having just been through the matchmaking tactics of some people let me tell you it doesn’t feel nice to be hounded like an animal. Yeah that is what it feels like.

( p.s I am in scorching Delhi now. Any place place worth visiting where I will not be roasted alive?)

End of an era

Long time ago, my Dad opened my very own bank account at a small branch of a centralised bank near my house. The bank catered to the small village like township where I live, on the outskirts of Bangalore. My first deposits were money given on birthdays, my First Holy Communion, Confirmation, pocket money savings etc. I felt so proud the day I opened my account.

When I started working in ad agencies during weekend, my bank account started taking on a respectable look. The first time it touched 10 K I nearly swooned. I felt rich!!!! ( of course it took a year to save that) I was walking on air and showed by passbook to everyone and sundry.

Times have passed. Now I bank with a MNC Bank as my salary gets credited directly into my account. My bank pays my phone bills, insurance premium, credit cards bills automatically. I make direct money transfers instead of writing cheques and always getting my signature wrong (:p)

Today I went to my old bank to close my account. It’s been years since I stepped in here. The squalor of the place hit me first, then the crowd and then the noise. Most of the old staff had taken VRS and left. Strange faces looked at me bored.

I told the lady behind the counter that I wanted to close my account. She looked at me accusingly and I felt that old familiar feeling when I had gone to close my BSNL account...guilt. The staff at BSNL made me feel like a Capitalist that had endangered their jobs. The eyes looked at me accusingly and then she told me to give a letter requesting the Bank Manager to close the account. I had already taken the letter. She looked disappointed. She then told me to get it endorsed by the Bank Manager.

The Manager looked at me up and down like a school Principal and wanted to know why I wished to close the account. I told her that I already had another account and did not wish to keep this one. She checked my account and turned around and said that there was quite a decent sum in my account and I should make it a fixed deposit. I told her politely that I had already made investments for this year and would she please close my account. "I am against closing an account " she said as though it was her discretion to close my account or not. I felt like a student back in the Principals office as I stood next to her desk. She finally approved the closure in the PC on her desk and returned the letter to me.

I was back to the lady who now asked me if I had a cheque book. I replied in the affirmative. Seizing the chance, she immediately returned the letter to me asking me to come back with the cheque book. Pushing the letter back I told her evenly that the cheque book had no leaves left. She looked disappointed and irritated. She checked my account in her system and barked " There is too much money in here. I cant give you cash, It will have to be a DD. It will take time. Please wait!!!"
I told her I will be back as I stayed close by. The smug expression vanished as she realised that she would not get the satisfaction of seeing me sit and wait. Then a brainwave struck her. "Do you have a Credit Card?" she asked. I replied in the affirmative. "Well you will have to come with your credit and a letter stating that you are cancelling the same and then we will close the account. Please come on Monday" she said dismissively. I took out the Credit Card from my wallet and handed it over to her. She hid her disappointment well. She pointed to a man on the table next to her and asked me to surrender the card to him with a letter.

I walked upto the credit card cancelling man and handed over my Credit Card. Before he could say anything I asked him for a piece of paper. He gave me a computer printout sheet. I asked him for a pen. He looked at his pen and said that he cannot give me the pen so I can go home, write the letter and come back. I turned around and asked the man sitting on the table behind me if he could lend me a pen. He gave me one while credit card cancelling man looked at him daggers. I wrote a letter cancelling my Credit Card and gave it to Mr Credit Card Cancelling Man. If looks could kill then my last post would have been my last post. Mr Credit Card Cancelling Man picks up the phone and calls the Head Credit Card Cancelling Man and gets the disappointing news that I had no dues. He grumbles and cancels my card on the system.

I was back with the lady now who had by now lost the will to fight. She tells me that I could withdraw any amount of money I wanted. I clean out my account and walk out of the bank with a sigh of relief. I am glad I will never have to come in here again and feel like a third class citizen!

As I walk out I can hear the manager’s voice in my head "Why do you want to close your account?" If she doesn’t know why, then it is no point telling her is it?

About turn...

He: Hello is this 123456789?
She: Yes
He: Hi, I am XYZ.
She: Oh!
He: Listen! I don't know how to tell you this but I am not ready for marriage yet.
She : *whew* me tooooo!
He: I am just 26!
She: And I am still younger!
He: My aunt sort of promised your aunt that she will make me meet you.
She: I know!
He: So what do we do?
She: I have no idea.
He: Well let’s honour their promise and meet up for a couple of minutes. We can then go back and tell our respective aunts that we met and that we didn’t like each other.
She: Great! When do I meet you?
He: Would 6 pm be alright?
She: Perfect!

Next day

He: Hi
She: Hi! I told my aunt that I didn’t like you *smile*
He: Oh!
She: My aunt will never do this anymore not after the firing I gave her for setting me up like this.
He: Ok! hmm well can I meet you today?
She: I don’t think so. But why?
He: Well....I am doing a rethink on this whole marriage issue...
She: I wish you best of luck then. Bye
He: Wait...!!!!
She: *slams the phone down*

Massacre of the senses

I am so so fed up of watching celebrities and cricketers in ads. This celebrity exposure overdose has successfully reduced my already pathetic TV viewing time to zero. Maybe there is an audience out there for this celebrity endorsements, but I am totally fed up. You pick up a magazine or a newspaper and even here you have some celebrity grinning or looking gravely at you. Does anybody in the ad agencies and product marketing teams know that most of us are fed up of this celebrity overdose?

I personally find ads with regular models more palatable.

I was recently watching the Malayalam DD channel. The hostess was a regular girl with DD's trademark make up. But it struck me then that she looked startlingly refreshing to my TV weary eyes. The DD people are so real compared to the plastic dolls in the private channels! I get a severe case of gaudy toxic syndrome after watching Channels like Zoom and Zee for more than five minutes. There is more designer clothes, make up, pedicure, manicure, furnishings and light in a single program second than in an hour of a DD program.

I am not suggesting that private TV channels should go the DD way. But I personally am finding it increasingly difficult to watch the over made up sets and backdrops and stars of these channels day in and day out. It is like an assault on your senses.

Compared to these channels, Star World is refreshing to the eye. Its pastel shades and non intrusive backdrops a treat to behold. On the other hand the sets of a private Indian channel looks like a furniture, furnishing, electronics cum designer wear showroom!!!

The news channels are comparatively okay except for CNN IBN and Times.

Sometimes I watch a bit of Malayalam serials when a visiting relation from Kerala puts it on. The overkill here is in terms of negative emotions. Revenge, anger, hate and lots and lots of tears. Everyone is planning revenge on the other. Everyone seem to hate everyone and plotting against other! The strident background music is a strain on your nerves and soon you feel a little jumpy and irritable after watching these serials for some time. But I also realise why all this is so addictive. It would be very difficult not to watch the next serial when a possible outcome of a plot is left hanging in the air. Luckily Malayalam serials are not big budget, saving us the clothes and make up overkill.

A hilarious scene from a Hindi serial I saw long time back. A heavily over made up and over clothed actress telling another heavily over made up and over clothed actress that she will "change into better clothes" to go out with her. My jaws dropped as I wondered what she would do to make her appearance better. There was nothing more that a makeup man or clothier could do to enhance her appearance!

Perhaps this is the infancy of Indian TV channels and in the long run, tasteful sets and soberly dressed anchors will give our eyes a break. Till then I stick to Star World and DD.

The King of goodtimes in the sky!

Last month I spent a lot of time with Kingfisher Airlines. Now my room looks like a Kingfisher brand zone with KF pouches and umpteen KF headphones and KF pens. In fact red is the dominant color of the room now .

KF rules the roost in service, decor, ambience and popularity. The queues at the KH check in counters are long while other airlines sport deserted look. Since my office Travel Desk has a tie up with KF most of us fly KF except those who are on Jets miles privilege scheme. These people curse for being stuck with Jet. Not that Jet is bad but KF is better :)

Some observations on KF:

KF is perhaps the most potential candidate for a hijacking in the near future, if the terrorists who took a heavy beating to their morale by the quick turnaround of the Mumbaikars after the Mumbai blasts, ever think of trying to rattle us Indians again.

At Trivandrum last month, the last flight out had just one guy scanning baggage and then stamping the scanned baggage, That is over 200 pieces of baggage being scanned by one person! He was of course not too thorough due to the abnormally long queue that formed due to this. But the KF staffs (KFS) is polite and in the not so remote chance of you being hijacked, they will mind their p's and q's when they inform your near and dear ones of the unfortunate accident.

KFS: Mr P, It is with great regret that we inform your Sir, that your beloved daughter was travelling on ill fated flight number IT 7000 that was hijacked to Bihar.
Dad: $%^&%@
KFS: Our sentiments exactly Sir which protocol prevents us from verbalising. Thank you!

The food they serve is superb. Just the right quantity with a lot of thought going into the menu. The famed KF Air Hostess was just pre launch propaganda. The KF girls are mostly short and ordinary looking but very very well trained and extremely polite and very friendly.

The Jet staffs on the other hand are cold but proactive if you ask them for anything. They work like automatons. Their dull uniform doesn’t help matter either and you feel like you are sitting in a sterilisation chamber. The KF ambiance is unbeatable due to the color "red" dominating the cabin. If only they would remove the terrible “Great Indian comedy show" from their in flight entertainment, the flight would be just perfect.

The announcements by the pilots are informal, freindly and with a personal touch... a joke or two, apologies if there is a delay due to traffic congestion, promises of making up the delay and an informal introduction of the crew. The announcement is conversational and KF manages what other airlines cannot i.e. make the passenger "feel at home".

Well I had good times with the King of Good Times. And that is saying a lot since I fly with them regularly and they are yet to disappoint me. Kudos to whoever thought of and designed the entire Kingfisher experience.

The sister act

When a baby girl is born to Indian parents her parents have great dreams for her. They dream of her going to a convent school and then to a convent run college and then getting herself a husband due to her "convent educated" status. In fact the craze for convents is so much that we now have anyone and anybody opening "convent schools". I think Mr Rupinder Singh who runs the St Jesus Convent School and Ramesh Kedia who runs St God Convent School are visionaries. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if they have branches called St Convent School , St Sister, St Church and St Cemetry. Anything that sounds remotely Christian is prefixed with the "St" and used as a name for these schools. Recently a school called St Anthony's was in the news for physically punishing a child. Turns out the owners were an ordinary couple who also had a flower nursery.

When people run out of names they become innovative and we have St Lilly, St Rose and St Lotus to name a few. Some people go for an authentic touch and we get schools like St Meera and St Radha. Well they were saints weren’t they? The word ‘saint’ in any other language would still be a saint!

Among the upmarket schools we have names like Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard and even Ivy League. I heard there is a school called IIT!!!

With education becoming a lucrative business with millions to be made, schools are mushrooming everywhere. The St God School was a two room tenement. Today it had classes from Nursery to 10th in a span of just 5 years! The owner incidentally is uneducated. That in my humble non MBA opinion is the best example of business acumen!

The other category of schools is the Kindergarten variety. The owners of these schools are more sober though some do go a little overboard with names like 'Little Angels' (guffaw) and 'Dolls'(double guffaw). Excuse the loud unlady like laughter but I was a KG kid too some time back and neither was I an angel nor a doll. Neither were my classmates. We were more like mud encrusted devils with bald patches of scalp from where many an enraged classmate had pulled our hair out. There was more hair flying in our class that in a fur factory. (I dared to grow my hair only after reaching high school!)

Most of these schools are garages or asbestos sheet covered tenements. But the full classrooms do give you hope that education is finally being regarded as an asset by people who rarely sent their kids to school once. On the flip side if this unbridled growth continues then education will become just another commodity, but like a commodity, competition may just keep prices in check.

Appy Fizz Radio Jingle

I fell in love with this hilarious radio jingle when I heard it for the first time. It still brings a smile and a chuckle when I hear it. Wait for the video to load and Enjoy! :D

Instant news!!!

I saw something on CNN IBN ( streaming content) the other day that made my jaws drop.

The program: CNN IBN special program

Title: Cricket's dark side

Presenters:Bhupender Chaube, Bob Kalra and a Geo TV rep live from Pakistan.

Bhupender Chaube to Geo TV rep in Pakistan: Your chanel has allegede foul play in Bob Woolmers death.

Geo TV Rep: We haven't alleged anything, but Inzamam ul Haq gave Bob a lot of trouble by not reporting for net practise.

Bhupender Chaube: This is a serious allegation. You are saying that Inzamam was the casue of Bob's death.

Geo TV Rep: I did not say that. I said he gave Bob the maximum amount of trouble.

Bhupender Chaube (shouting):How?!

Geo TV Rep( looks like he wants to slap Bhupender): He stressed out Bob by his disobedience and failing to report for net practise.


Bhupender Chaube: Thank you for coming on the show.(turning to the camera) As you can all see the Geo TV rep has made a serious allegation that Inzamam ul Haq and the Pakistani team stressed Bob to his death!

Bhupender Chaube kept screaming CNN IBN style and was desperately trying to sensationalise the issue,a trademark strategy of CNN IBN! News presenters from CNN IBN can be seen visibly excited when a news breaks and every effort is made during news hour to sensationalise the same. Background music adds to the melodrama.

How does this reflect on CNN I wonder. Or does CNN have no hold over the instantaneous content creation, sensationalisation and delivery of its Indian subsidiary?

( p.s will post the link to this video if I can get hold of the same. This program appeared around March 23rd)

Uncomplicate your life

Four Questions from God!

Amazing!

Caught between two worlds

My very good friends in school were the Anglo Indian twins Audrey and Mel. Audrey and Mel left for Australia like the many Anglo Indians who left the Indian shores in search of a better life amidst "their own people". Their father a lathe worker soon got a job, and so did their mom. They finished their schooling and are now working in Australia.

A few years back Audrey and Mel's mom Sheila and elder married sister Rita came down to India to visit relations, make a pilgrimage to Vailankanni and spend a day with us. They come down every year and always make it a point spend a day with us. My mom and Sheila were and are good friends having called each other up numerous times to check on our homework, school notes and the innumerable school concerts and plays where they helped with the costumes and music. Sheila is an accomplished Pianist, my mom is an accomplished seamstress. Between the two of them they did manage to make some lovely music and clothes for our school plays and concerts.

During Sheila's regular visits, we realised how lonely she was in Australia. Her annual trips to India was what kept her going insane from loneliness. Her elder daughter who did her schooling and college from Bangalore also tells a tale of loneliness amidst plenty. She tell us of her neighbours of 12 years whom she hasn't seen till date and many other tales. Mel and Audrey miss Bangalore like hell but are yet to make the kind of money to visit India.

My aunt who had migrated with her family to New Zealand too faces the same situation. In her case she did the wise thing of not accepting New Zealand citizenship and hence can come down to India for longer periods as her kids are grown up. She stays with us mostly and from her we hear of the good future her kids have in NZ and how reluctantly they return to New Zealand after every holiday in Kerala. Her children spend all their holidays in India unlike their peers who go abroad for holidays.

The story repeats itself with many people that I know have migrated to Australia and New Zealand. They are happy, they have the best life has to offer yet they go back with tears in their eyes and a lump in their throat and after every visit to India start saving with a vengeance for that next trip to India.

Fears and phobias

Recently I realised that I harbor some really irrational fears. Most of these fears are due to real life incidences that have happened to others. Some of the things that make me worry unnecessarily are:

1. While driving under a flyover I feel that a bus or a truck will fall on my head :p

2. I always carry a duffle bag with my laptop inside while driving my Kinetic. Every now and then I must check the bag strung on my back to ensure that my lappie is inside. I am sure one day I might leave the zipper of the bag open and my lappie will fall down or someone will steal it from the bag at a red light or traffic jam.

3. I am very scared of geysers left too long to heat. I feel it will burst and spill hot water all over me.

4. I am scared of gas cylinders. I feel one will burst, chumma just like that when I am around.

5. My greatest fear is my lappie crashing and hence I do data back up once a week. I have a pile of CD's with data backed up. In fact it was this fear that made my last boss and this boss issue me with a PC too. But I still back up my files on a CD :p

6. Due to some horrible coincidence I almost always end up flying in an ATR aircraft. I am damn sure that one day those giant fans will come loose and make a neat pile of 'sliced silverine'.

7. While reversing the car I am so sure that one day I might run over a small child. So I double and triple check to see if there is no one behind before I reverse.

8. I am scared of construction sites and walk as far away as I can from them because I feel that something will come crashing on my head.

9. While walking my doggies I make sure that they walk to my left. I am afraid that a vehicle will go over them since they so small.

10. I drive both my brothers crazy if they are out late (and vice versa). I just cannot sleep properly till I know that all members of the family are all under one roof safe and sound. SMS'ing me just does not help.

11. I am damn sure that one day I will forget the password of my blog :p I can remember what I wore for my 4th birthday but I cannot remember passwords. To counter this when I change my password I immediately store it in my PDA.

12. Another great fear, now fast subsiding is someone hacking my blog and taking it away or worse putting objectionable content in it.

Now someone please tell me their irrational fears so that I know that I am not the only one.

The new use and throw culture

I have just got back from a three day vacation at a resort near Trivandrum! I didn’t have the time to go into the city but the ride from the airport to Poovar, was an eye opener of sorts! Fields and ponds filled with plastic and refuse. Plastics and garbage was dumped everywhere especially on empty plots of land. Trivandrum airport is perhaps the cleanest AAI airport in India. It just goes to show that our cities and our airports are a reflection of the inhabitants that dwell in that area.

The resort was situated in the backwaters and we had to take a 15 minutes boat ride to the resort. The boat wound its way through coconut plantations cutting through the slimy green waters afloat with garbage. The gently flowing backwaters were bespeckled with hawaii slippers, used clothes, paper cups and plates and general refuse. As the boat chugged its way to the resort we could do nothing but sit in stunned silence at the sight before us.

At the resort jetty we were greeted by girls in traditional Kerala attire who garlanded us amidst the din of the chenda played by two energetic guys in traditional clothes. The beat was too foot tappingly bollywoodesque.

Tourism is here to stay in Kerala and the resort had the mandatory Yoga enclosure, Ayurveda House etc to give the foreigners that authentic Kerala experience. In the evening a barbecue was arranged for the guests and the next day morning I saw the Styrofoam plates afloat in the backwater surrounding the resort. Mineral water bottles, tetra packs and other garbage lined the waters edge. The resort was a clean and green oasis in a desert of refuse. It was a little too much for me. I remembered a Kerala, that not so long ago was hailed for its clean and neat people and civic sense.

What has happened to change this overnight? The thousands of resorts that have mushroomed up in Kerala, generate tons of plastic refuse everyday. Recycling as a culture does not seem to exist. I asked a hotel staff what they did with the mineral water bottles as she said that they are thrown away!!

As countries like the US grapple with the problem of garbage disposal and have ship loads of plastic bottles plying the sea for years looking for a port to dump their load, what is going to happen to India with a larger population and no culture of recycling? How long is the land and the environment going to take the abuse? Unless the government steps in and educates the public about garbage segregation and disposal, the Kerala we once knew is doomed to become a giant garbage dump.

Quantity or quality?

There is this really nice Airtel ad that is playing on radio these days. The ad talks about the life of an average Indian who has to wait in the que for everything, whether it is at the Ration Shop or Bus stop , public water taps etc. The ad ends by declaring that with Airtel you don’t need to wait in a que when dialling KBC!

I haven’t heard a more striking ad than this one, because it made me pause and think about our population like no other ad/campaign has done till now. And if this approach was taken for population control campaigns, I am sure the common man on the road will also pause and think. There is no better way you can drive home the fact that our unchecked population growth is the reason for our miseries than by pointing out the areas of discomfort that unchecked population growth creates. Just by preaching “chota parivaar sukhi parivaar” is not going to help as our people are used to and ignore the numerous, save water, save gas, kind of insipid advertisements that the government rolls out from time to time. If the government is really sincere then it has to hire people to think like the guys who made that Airtel ad. Point out to the common man how unchecked population is affecting him on a personal, more intimate level.

My maid takes a day off when she has to buy ration as the que starts forming by 4 am in the morning in front of the ration shop. She has to get up at 4am everyday to catch water as water comes for just an hour in the slum she is living in. However if you ask her why she has to go struggle for the basics amenities of life she doesn’t have a clue. She thinks that shortage is a fact of life and will not think twice about having another child. She already has four kids.

As more and more working couples are opting for just one kid, the percentage of children who will get good education compared to the number of children who will not, will be abysmally low. In the not so distant future the uneducated and or partially literate will horribly outnumber the literate productive taxpaying population. How will the FM run this nation then? Will we as a country become a cheap manual labor pool vis a vis the technical talent pool we are today?

A scary scenario indeed!

Popping the bubbly!

A superrrr quarter review!
An incredibly successful multicity marketing campaign!!
A commedation mail from the big boss himself!!!
And a shiny new plaque that says

"Outstanding Employee of the Third Quarter"!!!!


Today has been the most satisfying day of my life, professionally!

Man...am I hot or am I hot!!!

*sizzle*


p.s Extremely sorry for being so modest, but if I could, I would hang this post in the sky for the whole world to see!!!

:)

Summertimes

All pictures courtesy: Corbis

Summer is here...! I have always hated summers but summers as a kid are full of joyful memories...of Final Exams,half day school and coming home early, playing all afternoon and generally enjoying life as another academic year came to a close. Till school closed we stayed in Bangalore and after that it was Kerala till school opened.

The summers I spent in Bangalore remind me of so many things:



Water melons: These would arrive in the Bangalore markets by January. We would buy them only when the weather heated up as eating water melon in the cold is no fun at all. We ate them plain…it was like biting into fragrant snow. My mom made watermelon juice too but nothing like eating watermelon as it is.

Grapes: Summers is the best time to eat grapes! I would keep grapes in the freezer of the fridge and after a time they became sweet cold grape ice!!! Amazingly simple to make fruit ice! I still do that! :)

Lassi: I think I might have broken some kinda record for drinking lassis. Somehow I was never fond of salty lassis. I preferred sweet lassis and I still do. In fact I survived more of liquid diet than solid diet during summer.


Splashing water with the garden hose: A favorite pastime. Most of my friends came home during weekend and holidays, as there is so much place to run around in my house, besides the village and farms close by. After running around and getting heated up, we would take the garden hose or the farm sprinklers and get ourselves thoroughly wet. It was the most fun activity and was usually done without getting caught. And the clothes dried just as easily in the heat.



Lemon Juice: I think my mom must have made gazillion litres of lemon juice during summers. I still love freshly squeezed lime juice and am waiting for the heat to hit us to drink a glass of lemon juice Kerala ishtyle.

Sugar Cane Juice: My mouth is watering already as I write this :p I think I pushed up sales graph of sugarcane juice wallahs a couple of miles higher on the chart. "Typhoid Juice", "Lizard Juice", etc were some terms my Dad used to keep us off sugar cane juice but that was an impossibility as these guys set up stalls every where, making it convenient to lop across the street and have a chilled glass far away from the watchful eyes of our parents. Regular news of kids who were hospitalized due to sugar cane juice and Ice Cream from roadside vendors which were read aloud had absolutely no effect on us.



Cucumber: Summers are synonymous with Cucumbers in Bangalore. And the Cucumber sellers had this wonderful masalas that made this enormously tasty veggie tastier. My favorite was a liquidy coriander chutney that the cart fellow would smear over the cucumber...yummmm.



Swing: Summers remind me of the swing at home. Somehow swinging in the cold Bangalore weather was no fun. But summers time ‘swinging’ was a treat!. As the swing rose higher and higher we felt like we were flying over the flowers and trees. It was an awesome feeling!

Summers and summer holidays were so much fun when we were in school and college. I am making this into a tag as I think we should relive from time to time the fun times we have had.

1. Write 8 things you enjoyed doing during summer/summer holidays.
2. Tag some people with the happy memories! (No need to post pictures!)

So I tag Alexis, Ganja Turtle, Neihal, Jiby, Jeseem, Fleiger, Mathew and Mind Curry to do The Sunshine Tag! :)

Ad-ministering public health

Summer is approaching and the Central Govt. is floating quite few ads on Radio to warn people of the possibility of outbreak of diseases and teach the public the basics of health and hygiene.

Man one: Lala please give me some chole.
Man two: Why lala, salt is less today, didn’t let your sweat drip in the food? (derisive laughter)
Man two: And food is tasteless today, why… did you wash your hands before you cooked today? (derisive laughter)
Man two again: How can this food compare to the good taste of food served in dirty plates? (derisive laughter again)

Till here the ad is scripted very well in Hindi. Then comes this part that drives home the point that our Ministers have their ears to the ground and know what they are talking about.”

'Sushma Swarajish' voice: This is no laughing matter. Insist on your food vendor washing his hands thoroughly before cooking, using clean and purified water for cooking and sterilising the plates for your good health.

This is a public service announcement bought to you by the Government of India.

(loud derisive laughter from silverine!!)

The Red caste system

It was sometime in middle school that I was introduced to Communism via a lesson in Social Studies. As the teacher explained Communism, it’s birth and evolution and then the revolutions, I couldn't help but be impressed with the system. It looked picture prefect and the school text book laid a wonderful picture of Utopian nations like China, Russia and some other communist’s countries. This seemed like such a nice system where everyone had a job and everyone was equal and there was happiness and contentment all around. I could almost feel the contentment oozing out of the text book. So it was with stars in my eyes that I came home that day and as usual regurgitated the whole thing to my Dad. My Dad didn’t say anything as I was too young then to talk of government owning the means of production, principles of supply and demand etc.

Then I heard an observation by my cousin sister who used to fly with ‘Indian Airlines’ in the eighties. This observation opened my eyes in a way no book could. She talked of plane loads of Russians who came in droves to India on holiday in the 80’s. After flying for many years she had by now learnt to classify passengers at first sight. From these commie hordes she clearly discerned three or four types of people, which I later realized was a type of class system followed in communist countries.

The first class, was well educated, spoke good English and would refuse anything served on board. They would insist on French Coffee, Swiss Cheese etc which ‘Indian Airlines’ did not carry. So they preferred to eat nothing on board. They wore the latest fashion from Paris and Milan and they were attired from head to toe in designer clothes. They reeked “wealth”. This type also stayed in 5 star hotels as she would see them checking in when the crew checked into the same hotel.

The second class was the bureaucrats who had uniformed army men escorting them and given preferential treatment etc. They were polite and would take whatever was offered to eat. But the crew was intructed to take care of them as they were ‘Diplomats”. They would be met at the tarmac with cars that would whisk them off.

The third type was a little less high brow. They were polite and spoke a little English and usually checked into two and three star hotels.

The fourth type was a boisterous junglee type. This class formed the largest number among the Russians tourists. They were the laborers of the Communist economy. They were uncouth but friendly and grabbed whatever was on offer for free like sweets, cotton, Saunf etc. They were herded like cattle and stayed in really cheap hotels. They were treated real badly by the accompanying Russian escort and were used to being treated like crap.

From my cousin’s sisters observation I couldn't help but feel that no matter what the system we follow, we cannot escape classification. How much ever we try to create an equal society, we will fail as no man is made equal. There are some of us who are physically fit, while some are mentally superior. Some are good in business while others are good in numbers. When such disparity lies among humans, a system like Communism was bound to fail or flourish only under duress.

In the case presented above it is clearly visible that a sort of caste system is in practise in Communists countries. Besides an unofficial reward system exists to reward the intellect and productivity of outstanding citizens among them. It is a sort of invisible Capitalism. Unbelievable!!

( One of the best posts on this issue is here)

Woe'men's Day!

Happy Women’s Day to all of you gals out there. Today was a day of fun and excitement at the office with flowers for the ladies and a special lunch too. Besides, today was a significant day as most of us remembered to wish each other and sent out mushy ppt's and html mails with roses and pictures of women in various avataars.

After lunch we were as usual on a stroll around the campus when a senior colleague narrated an incident that happened some years ago when she was in college. Her Dad had just retired from a public sector company and the family decided to go back and settle down in their home town, Trivandrum. My colleague enrolled in a college in Trivandrum. One day on the way to college, at a road junction, some guys mouthed some obscenities at her. Enraged, as she had never heard such filth before in Mumbai where she had studied earlier, she confronted the guys and proceeded to give them a ticking off. She was polite in her language. The guys got aggressive when they heard her and demanded and apology for "thinking too much of herself." In their own words, when a girl walks on the road she invites such attention. If she was too particular then she could come to college in a car or sit at home, they said.

Soon the boys gathered a crowd and began heckling her. Someone called the police who came and took and girl and the boys concerned to the station. Soon a whole group of college students from the boy’s college landed up at the station, shouting slogans and asking her to apologize. The Inspector, sensing the situation asked to apologize. He told her that he understood her predicament but this was Kerala and the only way out for her was to apologize. The girl held her ground. Soon her father was called for. The Inspector again pleaded with him to ask his daughter to apologize. Instead of asking his daughter to apologize, the old man walked out of the station and amidst heckling and booing held his hand up in bought them together and apologized for his daughter’s behavior. Emboldened by this move the cops managed to tell the boys to disperse.

A few weeks later the girl and her family moved to Chennai. The public humiliation and the derisive laughter of neighbors was too much. There was much rejoicing in the community for teaching “the mumbai” girl a lesson. Satisfaction all around. They had taught another “westernized girl” to toe the line.

Ironically this happened the day after International Women’s Day. And more ironically this happened in the most literate State in India.

Happy Women's Day to all of you lovely ladies,young and old and not so old. You gals rock!!! :)

The smooth and potholed spiritual road

Warning: Very very long post

Sometime back during a conversation between me and my colleague, it came out that he was a rabid Atheist. And like most Atheists this gentleman too tried to bait me, a believer into an argument about the existence of an entity called, God. This gentleman lets call him SJ, felt that even without following a religion he was a good human being as any other religious person. He really didn’t need to go to Church or bow and scrape his knees on the Church floor to be a good human being. I asked him how he had become in his own words a “reasonably good human” being. He told me that he did what he thought was right, followed his conscience and was reasonably nice to people. I then asked him how he had learnt to judge what was right and wrong. He was a bit taken aback and gave me a reasonably unconvincing answer. I then pointed out to him that it was his God fearing parents who had influenced him the most during his growing up years and it was their beliefs that shaped him to be what he is today. He had imbibed the values of Christianity and after a point like a child who is on walker, discarded the walker and begun to walk alone. I thought he would slap me from the expression on his face.

This post is not about how corrupt religion has become or about the evils perpetrated in the name of religion. This post is about a great way of life called Christianity that now lies in the hands of nincompoops. Today, Christianity is a great learning ground for a child. We grow up learning that God loves the poor and meek. We are told to help the needy and sick and the downtrodden and we learn that it is our duty to help others in distress. Our simple questions are answered eloquently if we are lucky, by people like Sr. Mary.

Then comes adolescence and suddenly there is no one to guide us or answer the complex questions that is aroused in the mind of the young adult by the very teachings of Christianity. The usual clichéd answers by incompetent spiritual leaders and teachers lead to disillusionment and finally for some a fall away from the Church. You cannot teach people to think independently and then bullshit them. And herein lies a vacuum that the Church should seriously look into. The challenge lies in addressing this generation that the Church had nurtured at a young age. There is no one to take on the mantle from the primary and secondary Catechism teachers. Kids are left in a limbo.

Another area the Church has to change in is the attitude of Priest that they are owners of the Church. They preach from the pulpit that “you dear people are the Church, not this building” but advise them on matters regarding the Church and they brush you aside. Recently I attended a more than jam packed Sunday Mass at one of the overflowing Churches in Bangalore. After the mass I asked the Parish priest why he wasn’t increasing the frequency of Sunday Masses like other Churches and his flippant answer was that the faithful should not mind the minor discomforts of a crowded Church. I wanted to do some really unchristian things to him right then.

The Church should be made a community property and not a place where you come as a infrequent visitor on Sundays. When you give the onus of the Church in the hands of a few people, then you have to ensure that these people are squeaky clean or else as representatives of the Church a single wrong move by them can jeopardize the Church itself.

A vast majority of people like me still follow the religion ignoring the nincompoops that our religious leaders are, because we realize that we are what we are to a great extent due to our religion and ironically this religion has also enlightened us to recognize the nincompoops and ignore them.

I now practice my religion on my own volition and not because I am born to Christian parents. Which I think what Christianity is all about. It is not about the word ‘Christian’ in the religion column of a Passport form. Of course I will slap you back if you slap me…I won’t turn the other cheek which is why I am still Silverine and not St Silverine. But I also believe that had I been born a non Christian I would have eventually converted to Christianity at some point in my life.

This post is not about the merits of demerits of Christianity or other religions and so comments on the same are not welcome. This is just a dispassionate look at the state of the Church today.

Thank you Mind Curry for finally prodding me to right about something I wanted to write for a long time with your excellent post.

And apologies if I sound preachy, feel free to throw eggs on the monitor and yes, some green chillies too and ...guess you all know the drill by now :p

An enigma...

Sonia was a slim and extremely beautiful girl. Fiercely independent and a go getter. She finished her Architecture from a leading college in Bangalore. Her parents, both successful doctors live in Kerala. While she was doing her engineering she spent her free weekends at our house as my parents were her local guardians. I was very fond of Sonia and she was my adopted elder sister. It was nice to have a sister and she slept in my room whenever she came over. We spent hours talking into the night. The bond between cousins is much stronger especially if you have stayed in each others house. After a point of time you stop being cousins and become family. I have several cousin sisters and I know the familiarity and trust that we share even though we meet only during vacations.

Pretty soon Sonia’s parents were looking for a groom for her. After a prolonged hunt they zeroed in on a boy from Trichur, a software engineer in a leading firm in the Gulf. I was aghast. I protested to Sonia that she would have no job opportunities in the Gulf. But Sonia was already in love with the photo of the groom. She would look at me dreamily and say that “You wouldn’t understand. When you grow up you will realize the importance of marriage and settling down.” Somehow even at that age, I realized that this was wrong. It felt ridiculous to see this girl who burnt the midnight oil in my house during weekends, completing complicated projects and earning a degree only to throw it all away.

Sonia’s groom was extremely good looking. He was a six footer and looked quite aloof at the Engagement. Sonia looked resplendent; she stood demurely her head bowed like a dutiful about-to-be wife. A faint blush lit her cheeks at the proximity of the strapping man beside her. I felt sick. Something was not right. I kept quite as my mom had pleaded with me to keep my sharp tongue in check for the sake of Sonia.

Sonia got married soon after and left the shores with her husband. Soon she was pregnant. And she had a baby boy. One day a cousin of my mom called up. She sounded absolutely thrilled at the scandal she was delivering. Apparently everything was not hunky dory with Sonia. Her husband beat her up regularly. He was a short tempered guy and a very jealous man. Soon, suspecting her fidelity he made her pregnant again so that she would look ugly and undesirable to other men. I sent frequent mails to her telling her to stop taking the abuse and leave him. But she never replied. I reasoned with her that she had the qualifications and the money to survive on her own, besides two apartments of her own in Kochi. Her mother called up my mom one day telling her rather sharply to rein me in and my ‘modern’ ways. My mom flatly refused as she said she found nothing wrong in my advice to Sonia.

The beatings and abuse continued. As soon as Sonia’s second child was born she was pregnant again. One day she came on Yahoo chat. I had nothing to say to her. What do I talk to a woman who deliberately takes punishments? As she filled me on the news, gushing over her children and their antics, I replied in mono syllables. An “ok” or an “oh”. She soon sensed my mood and enquired why I was being so distant. I told her rather frankly that I found her a loser for staying in an abusive relationship and a hypocrite…for chatting with me as though I didn’t know anything. She quickly said a bye and logged out.

Some time ago we heard that Sonia was back in Kochi to recover from an abortion. She had apparently lost her fourth child due to a merciless beating session. She was sent back to India with the kids to recover from the miscarriage. After her discharge from the hospital she packed her bags to go back to the Gulf. I made a last ditch attempt to stop her. But it failed as her mom would not allow her to take any calls from me. Sonia just left for the Gulf. She has a job now as her husband is unemployed. He has grown fat and is just as aloof as ever.

Is there any sane explanation for such behaviour?

Valentino!

Another Valentine’s Day has come and gone. And like other Valentines Days the day held no particular significance to me as I am single. In my office we were all greeted with a single long stemmed rose on our desks, but part from that there was no sign of the day being Valentine’s Day. By mid morning most of the guys had given me their roses as I am the only girl on the floor and the facilities people bought me a lovely cylindrical glass vase to keep the vases complete with white pebbles. It looked awesome and the flowers are still fresh.

In the evening married or girls with boyfriends sent the usual mails telling us about the gifts that they received. This year both my brothers got together and bought me a Valentine’s Day gift. It was a heart shaped red gift box with a heart shaped glass bowl with some metallic pebbles corresponding to the number of years I have been on this earth. According to my chetan the pebbles represents the number of years that the family has been blessed with my presence. According to my second brother, the pebbles represents the numbers of years of screeches, scratches, hair pulling, tale telling etc etc etc and other tortures that I have put him through… which you all know is absolute and total lies.

I took the gift to office and most girls (the suckers of mushy stuff they are) think that it the THE CUTEST Valentine’s Day gift they have ever seen. And guess what? Poor single moi has been voted to have got the best Valentine’s Day gift. My desk with the heart shaped glass bowl has become a shrine of sorts and I am sure hazaar BF’s and husbands must be cursing my brothers for the “You should have Silverine’s Valentine Day gift, why didn’t you think of something like that? And she is single too!!!”

However the most unique gift that I have ever received was “Valentino”, a handsome Snowman made for me by a friend in -14 degree cold.




Errr he is a lil drunk as the creator of this masterpiece gave him some Vodka to keep him warm :p But isn't he a dish?

The wretchedness of plagiarism...

Off late I stumbled upon not one, but three instances of blatant copying of my posts from my other blog, Poomanam by some bloggers. One was a cookery blog and the guy had sort of reworded this post to make a new post. One of my regular readers and commenter via email bought this to my notice. He also left a comment on the plagiarized post which made the guy pull down the post, post haste.

Recently this post was blatantly lifted in parts without even an acknowledgement for the same. I have had instances of people quoting my posts, but always with a link to the post. However the new and disturbing trend is to lift parts of my posts or reword whole posts to make it look like new posts…

If I am perturbed and disturbed it is not by acts of plagiarism, but by people who read these copied posts but never bought this to my notice. That really hurt. As for the plagiarists I feel nothing but disgust and pity for these people. How long do they think they will lift other peoples work and bask in reflected glory? And for what? Blogging is all about being yourself and being honest. But there seems to be a new breed of bloggers whose only aim is to get comments and webhits by hook or by crook or plagiarism. For some it is Google Ad sense that is the motivating force, for some it is plain egotism.

I have never acknowledged the silent majority of people who read my blog but never comment. Today I want to do that. It is these silent readers who make the bulk of the 600 odd hits I get on the day I post a new post and the 200/300 odd hits I get when I don’t post. Most instances of plagiarism have been bought to my notice by this demography of people. And hold your breath, a good proportion of these are college students from Kerala. And a good majority from this group are from The National Institute of Technology Calicut and strangely, IIT Roorkee and IIT Delhi! Thank you guys and gals, you are the best!!

A special thanks to Sreejith Narayanan, the only person who has written a post inspired from
an article here in My Think Pad and acknowledged the same. Yes, dear folks, a lot of posts from here have “inspired” other bloggers but none have acknowledged the same.

Today was the last straw when I came upon yet another act of plagiarism and hence this post. I am sorry for the wretched tone of this post. But I needed to get this off my system.

The trilogy tag

I lifted this tag from the most promising humor blogger in blogosphere today and the most promising bachelor chef too with his own cook blog written just as humorously (girls…this one is a keeper!!!)

Three things that scare me

1. If someone scares me by saying “boo”
2. Sharp implements
3. Riots

Three people who make me laugh

1. Dave Barry (forever)
2. Betty MacDonald
3. Jay Leno

Three things I love

1. I am repeating Mathews point, i.e Fridays, I love Fridays!
2. Babies ( as long as they belong to somebody else) and dogs
3. Music

Three things I hate

1. People who don’t keep commitments ( like the stupid ^&%$# ad agency)
2. People who beat around the bush, since I come straight to the point.
3. Artificial people

Three things I don't understand

1. Maths :p
2. People who keep grudges forever
3. Meanness

Three things on my desk

1. My laptop,
2. My PC
3. A statue of Mother Mary

Three things I am doing right now

1. Sending a severe ticking off mail to the ad agency people
2. Sending a laudatory mail to the Event Management guys for a job well done
3. Trying hard not to think of the enormous job roll out for the coming six months

Three things I want to do before I die

1. See the World
2. Visit Lourdes and Fatima
3. Sponsor as many poor kids education as I can like my Dad. His four kids are doing engineering now. My two are still in Primary School.

Three things I can do

1. Sponsor another child’s education
2. Use less plastic
3. Use water judiciously

Three things you should listen to

1. The clock :p
2. Silence
3. More experienced people

Three things you should never listen to

1. Workplace gossip
2. Rumours
3. Loud music

Three things I'd like to learn

1. Cordon Bleu cooking
2. Astronomy
3. Ornithology

Three favourite books

I will list some of the books I read in the not so distant past

1. The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
2. Boogers are my beat- Dave Barry
3. Fountainhead

Three favourite food

…apart from Kerala cusine they are...

1. Chinese
2. Salads
3. Italian and Continental

Three beverages I drink regularly

1. Water
2. Buttermilk
3. Tea

Three TV shows/books I watched/read when I was kid

1. Star Trek-TV Show
2. Robinson Crusoe- Book
3. The Canadian kiddie programs on Star

Three people I like to nag err…tag.


Alexis
Emmanual Joseph
and Mind Curry

…and anyone else who would like to take this up

The invisible hazard

A distant cousin brother, but very dear friend of mine died recently. It wasn’t a road accident or a suicide. The death was due to drowning, but he was dead a long time before he drowned in that lake.

Manoj was one of the sweetest guys I have come across, simple, innocent and simply “nice”. His family is perhaps one of the sweetest collections of people I know. His Dad a leading businessman in Singapore and his mom a simple and a unassuming woman from my moms hometown. Their house is a happy place with none of the trappings of the ultra rich. The parents remained ordinary middle class folks inspite of my Uncles immense success in business. The children, all 8 of them are down to earth simple girls and boys, who perhaps are not even aware that they are rich. They are one of those families who don’t seem to be affected by money.

Manoj the eldest son, was a brilliant student who went on a scholarship to one of those Ivy League schools. He finished top of the batch and was soon selected into one of the leading companies in New York. The first year of work was hectic and the stress immense. Soon the stress affected his brain making him behave irrationally from time to time. The doctors diagnosed the condition as a stress related disorder. Apparently it is not so uncommon in todays high stress working environments. There was no cure though the behaviour could be managed by medication. But Manoj was disabled for life. Though he looked and behaved like a normal human being and recognised all of us and seemed perfectly alright, he was prone to walk off from home and forget his whereabouts. His parents bought him back to Bangalore and he was admitted to an institution run by the Jesuits on the outskirts of Bangalore for such rare cases. One day he walked out of the institution, slipped on the banks of a lake and drowned.

What we learnt during his illness was that the high stress life that we are leading these days can make anyone of us a victim of this eventuality. It may be not so serious as in Manoj’s case, but damage due to a high stress life is insidious and silent. It may end up as something else altogether like forgetfulness, infertility etc and may never be identified as a fallout of stress.

Simply put...man was made to till the soil and reap the harvest and be content with it and not meet tight deadlines and targets. And what is worse, no company will compensate you if you fall victim to job related stress disorder. It is not even recognised as a workplace hazard and till it is recognised as a workplace hazard you and me will live in constant danger of becoming victims.