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?
Monday, May 14, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
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*
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*
Saturday, May 05, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, April 23, 2007
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
Saturday, April 21, 2007
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)
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)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, April 09, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
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
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!!!
:)
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!!!
:)
Saturday, March 17, 2007
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! :)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
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!!)
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!!)
Monday, March 12, 2007
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)
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)
Thursday, March 08, 2007
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!!! :)
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!!! :)
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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
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
Saturday, February 24, 2007
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?
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?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
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?
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?
Sunday, February 18, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, February 12, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
In the name of God...
My ex colleague R called me a little distressed the other day. She needed a huge amount of money urgently. She had applied for a personal loan which was approved and the bank was to give her the cheque next month. But R needed the money right then. I obliged by chipping in. The money was for a temple renovation work her Dad was undertaking in Kerala. I wondered why her Dad should go through so much expense when they were not well off, but refrained from commenting on the same. R returned the money today. She explained that her Dad had made promises to rebuild the temple and she and her sister had to support the expenditure with their meagre salary or incur the wrath of the devi. She wasn’t too happy about the situation but had accepted the same as any opposition would make her father go into emotional blackmail mode.
Another colleague and her four sisters, all techies would send money every month to their father in Kerala for various poojas and other religious activities that he undertook. They did it reluctantly because if they didn’t, then their father would borrow and creditors would soon come calling these girls for money.
These are not just two instances but among the many I have heard from my mallu colleagues. What is remarkable about these cases are that most of these girls are from “girls only” families and their fathers are usually unemployed, retired, small farmers or in low paid jobs. As soon as the daughters are employed they start flaunting their money and justifying the expense on religious grounds by sponsoring various festivals and poojas at their local temples.
As a non Hindu I really cannot comment on any of this as I do not know much about the religious obligations of Hindus, but from the girls own account these are unnecessary expenditure and they have no choice but to acquiesce till they are married and can hence say “No”!
This post has nothing to do with religion. Such exploitation happens in other avatars in Christian families too. Exploitation of girls happens irrespective of caste creed or religion.
Another colleague and her four sisters, all techies would send money every month to their father in Kerala for various poojas and other religious activities that he undertook. They did it reluctantly because if they didn’t, then their father would borrow and creditors would soon come calling these girls for money.
These are not just two instances but among the many I have heard from my mallu colleagues. What is remarkable about these cases are that most of these girls are from “girls only” families and their fathers are usually unemployed, retired, small farmers or in low paid jobs. As soon as the daughters are employed they start flaunting their money and justifying the expense on religious grounds by sponsoring various festivals and poojas at their local temples.
As a non Hindu I really cannot comment on any of this as I do not know much about the religious obligations of Hindus, but from the girls own account these are unnecessary expenditure and they have no choice but to acquiesce till they are married and can hence say “No”!
This post has nothing to do with religion. Such exploitation happens in other avatars in Christian families too. Exploitation of girls happens irrespective of caste creed or religion.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Planet of the dogs!
My little dog Honey is a celebrity in her own right. She is the cynosure of all eyes and I have got to know a lot of people through her. In Church, Supermarket etc I have young couples, girls, old couples etc smiling at me even though I don't know them personally. These are people I meet when I take my doggies for a walk and who stop me on the road so that they can pat Honey.
There is even an unofficial "Honey" fan club in my area with the all the kids living here as members. Honey is a cream colored Lhasa Apso and she looks like any other Lhasa Apso’s, so I have never understood why she gets so much attention from all and sundry.
Anyways, recently my Wi-Fi router konked off and I had to call the Airtel people to replace it. This is the conversation that took between my brother M and the Airtel Engineer as he tried to guide him to our house:
M: Can you see the yellow board on the main road?
Airtel guy: Yes,and I have taken the right from there as you said but landed up at a deadend.
M: Ok, this time come straight down the road till you reach a house with a white gate and…
Airtel guy: Is this the house with the white fluffy dog?
M: Yes!
Airtel: Oh ok, now I know the house!!!
There was a time when she was my pet, now I am her “human” *sigh*
:p
There is even an unofficial "Honey" fan club in my area with the all the kids living here as members. Honey is a cream colored Lhasa Apso and she looks like any other Lhasa Apso’s, so I have never understood why she gets so much attention from all and sundry.
Anyways, recently my Wi-Fi router konked off and I had to call the Airtel people to replace it. This is the conversation that took between my brother M and the Airtel Engineer as he tried to guide him to our house:
M: Can you see the yellow board on the main road?
Airtel guy: Yes,and I have taken the right from there as you said but landed up at a deadend.
M: Ok, this time come straight down the road till you reach a house with a white gate and…
Airtel guy: Is this the house with the white fluffy dog?
M: Yes!
Airtel: Oh ok, now I know the house!!!
There was a time when she was my pet, now I am her “human” *sigh*
:p
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The new kids of the South block
One of the most endearing things I have noticed, since I started working is a universal love for “Malayalam” among my southie colleagues. The moment they come to know I am a Malayalee, there are frequent requests for help with Malayalam words and a concerted effort to talk to me in Malayalam, mostly to learn or improve their Malayalam. And I am not talking of the guys only but gals too. The interest to learn Malayalam is almost universal here in Bangalore, at least in the IT companies and the enthusiasm very infectious.
There is also a respect when people know you are a Malayalee and an indulgent and affectionate acceptance of the Malayalam accent. In fact unlike some time ago, the accent is now a matter of pride for people who have mastered it. And here in this office I have a Tamil colleague, who is an ace in this. He is much admired for the authentic “Malayalam English” Malayalam Tamil” and Malayalam Kannada” that he can speak like a true Malayalee. The Malayalam way of speaking “English” like “zimble” and “olymbics” etc is common lingo and sometimes we have these “manglish” sessions which instead of invoking laughter invokes pride if you get it right!
In my Internal Messenger I won’t be surprised if someone suddenly messages asking for the Malayalam word for something. In fact it is routine. And if it is ‘colourful’ words they are looking for I direct them to my brother because my repertoire in this is area is limited to “patti” (dog) and “nayinde mon” (son of a dog) :p.
There is so much affection and curiosity about Malayalees nowadays. Almost like we are the new kids of the South block. Be it the language, the food, the culture, temples, towns...people just can't get enough. And the trouble people take to learn the language, is so heartwarming. Maybe because it is a difficult language to learn and hence poses a challenge or maybe not, but the interest nevertheless, is heart warming. One senior colleague of mine, a very respected software architect, insists on talking to me in Malayalam so that he can get used to it. And when I am talking to fellow mallus in Malayalam, I have people listening to me keenly as they feel it sounds very nice.
What can I say but I feel so proud. I do not know the origin of this interest in Malayalam and all things Malayalee, but it sure feels good.
It is almost as if people have suddenly woken upto "The Malayalee"
There is also a respect when people know you are a Malayalee and an indulgent and affectionate acceptance of the Malayalam accent. In fact unlike some time ago, the accent is now a matter of pride for people who have mastered it. And here in this office I have a Tamil colleague, who is an ace in this. He is much admired for the authentic “Malayalam English” Malayalam Tamil” and Malayalam Kannada” that he can speak like a true Malayalee. The Malayalam way of speaking “English” like “zimble” and “olymbics” etc is common lingo and sometimes we have these “manglish” sessions which instead of invoking laughter invokes pride if you get it right!
In my Internal Messenger I won’t be surprised if someone suddenly messages asking for the Malayalam word for something. In fact it is routine. And if it is ‘colourful’ words they are looking for I direct them to my brother because my repertoire in this is area is limited to “patti” (dog) and “nayinde mon” (son of a dog) :p.
There is so much affection and curiosity about Malayalees nowadays. Almost like we are the new kids of the South block. Be it the language, the food, the culture, temples, towns...people just can't get enough. And the trouble people take to learn the language, is so heartwarming. Maybe because it is a difficult language to learn and hence poses a challenge or maybe not, but the interest nevertheless, is heart warming. One senior colleague of mine, a very respected software architect, insists on talking to me in Malayalam so that he can get used to it. And when I am talking to fellow mallus in Malayalam, I have people listening to me keenly as they feel it sounds very nice.
What can I say but I feel so proud. I do not know the origin of this interest in Malayalam and all things Malayalee, but it sure feels good.
It is almost as if people have suddenly woken upto "The Malayalee"
Friday, January 12, 2007
Death
The first time I encountered 'death' was when I was around 10 years old. An old ammachi, one of my favourite grand aunts died of oldage and her funeral was the first one I have ever attended. My parents as a rule never took us for funerals, but this aunt died when we were in Kerala for summer vacations and hence there was no escaping the funeral. This was the first time I saw a dead body too. I knew vaguely that dead people stop breathing...in fact that was my concept of death. I remember watching my grand aunt as she lay in the coffin and feeling a little suffocated because she wasn’t breathing. I wondered how she was managing without breathing. In school we used to have “holding the breath” competitions and I know the discomfort of holding one's breath. But this aunt was lying rather comfortably even though she wasn’t breathing. I just couldn’t believe that she was not breathing. I watched her stomach closely, very sure that she must be taking a sneak breath like we did during the ‘holding the breath’ competitions. But she lay serene. After the burial as the family slowly wound its way back home I felt bad for my aunt because she would have to sleep in the cemetery now, all alone. I wondered if she would get scared in the night.
That night I badgered my mom with questions and my mom struggled to answer me as she wasn’t sure how she would explain death to me. All I got from her rather reluctantly was that the dead body would decompose and become one with the mud and soil. I was satisfied with the answer besides those were days when you thought that only old people died. Then I grew up a little and realised that young people and even kids died. That was when I got a scare. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be put in a coffin and left in the cemetery. I didn't want to lie in a coffin all alone for eternity. I tried to reason that there would be other dead people in the cemetery to keep me company but somehow that wasn’t too reassuring.
I guess my Dad sensed my alarm due to my frequent questions about death and then one day sat me down and told me that when a person dies his soul leaves the body and goes to heaven. He told me that I live in my body and that I will come out of it when I die and go to heaven. And that I wouldn’t be buried when I die but the body that I cast off like the snake skins that I had seen in the parambu around the house in Kerala would be buried. This took an enormous load off my shoulders and a big nagging worry somewhere in the backend of mind was lifted.
Topics like death should be explained clearly to kids or kids come to their own conclusions and worry unnecessarily. The reason for this rant is my cousin brother’s daughter who was heard questioning him the same way I questioned my Mom years ago. My cousin brother struggled to answer and gave some vague reply about going to heaven etc. With his permission I told his little daughter the same thing my Dad told me years ago. She looked visibly relieved. My cousin brother also looked visibly relieved. Obviously his parents hadn’t explained the topic to him too. In the discussions that followed later in the house we concluded that topics like death should not be brushed under the carpet or shielded from kids. It is because of this that death becomes a morbid word for most of us. I think death like birth should be treated as a natural stage for every human. I have made my peace with death and the inevitability of death and don’t worry about it or think about it. But there are many who dread the word. Sad, life is for the living and not worrying about its end.
This beautiful quote illustrates my view of death.
“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."
– Oscar Wilde
That night I badgered my mom with questions and my mom struggled to answer me as she wasn’t sure how she would explain death to me. All I got from her rather reluctantly was that the dead body would decompose and become one with the mud and soil. I was satisfied with the answer besides those were days when you thought that only old people died. Then I grew up a little and realised that young people and even kids died. That was when I got a scare. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be put in a coffin and left in the cemetery. I didn't want to lie in a coffin all alone for eternity. I tried to reason that there would be other dead people in the cemetery to keep me company but somehow that wasn’t too reassuring.
I guess my Dad sensed my alarm due to my frequent questions about death and then one day sat me down and told me that when a person dies his soul leaves the body and goes to heaven. He told me that I live in my body and that I will come out of it when I die and go to heaven. And that I wouldn’t be buried when I die but the body that I cast off like the snake skins that I had seen in the parambu around the house in Kerala would be buried. This took an enormous load off my shoulders and a big nagging worry somewhere in the backend of mind was lifted.
Topics like death should be explained clearly to kids or kids come to their own conclusions and worry unnecessarily. The reason for this rant is my cousin brother’s daughter who was heard questioning him the same way I questioned my Mom years ago. My cousin brother struggled to answer and gave some vague reply about going to heaven etc. With his permission I told his little daughter the same thing my Dad told me years ago. She looked visibly relieved. My cousin brother also looked visibly relieved. Obviously his parents hadn’t explained the topic to him too. In the discussions that followed later in the house we concluded that topics like death should not be brushed under the carpet or shielded from kids. It is because of this that death becomes a morbid word for most of us. I think death like birth should be treated as a natural stage for every human. I have made my peace with death and the inevitability of death and don’t worry about it or think about it. But there are many who dread the word. Sad, life is for the living and not worrying about its end.
This beautiful quote illustrates my view of death.
“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."
– Oscar Wilde
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Mr Right
I was going through Orkut with my friend when I came across what is perhaps one of the best profiles I have ever seen. I showed it to my colleagues today and work came to a stop in my office. Check it out for yourself. Girls...this Pakistani guy could be your dream man.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nazeem
NOTICES:"HEY YOU ALL PEOPLE IN THE ORKUT.BOY GALS AND EVERYBODY IN ORKUT.MY WARNING IS THAT PLAESE NOT ADD ME EVERYBODY.I HAVE MANY WORKS
TO DO.EMAIL ME IF YOU WANT ME ADD.BUT EVERY PEOPLE NOT ADD ME TAKE MY PERMISSION.AND ONLY GOOD PEOPLE ADD ME NO BAD."NAZIM SAYS.
hey hi boys girls and evrybody
im a nice guy
i want great frandship frm all boys and girls
i looking for my queen basically
i can be a very good fradship ...because im nice
evryone add me so dat frandship growth..so frands for ever
im smart evryone likes me ...i very open so ppl add me very quick
...they think i very nice
SO GALS wat u waiting for
add me on nazim_XYZ@hotmail.com
anybody need advise on love topics plz tell me i romantic and i know abt love very much so plzzz add me and tell i about your love problems i always ready to help girls only.i love very well to all gals n womens.i make good lov from every1 and friendship also.i play computer very good,play hockey,cricket and sports and all sports n games.AND!!!! i best player of love n friendship from gals n womens so wat u think of I u can scrap me everytime and anytime and talk me anything
His Testimonials:
Akbar: Nazim If u Staaand Against the oxford profeesssooor u may get them heart attack by ur frandship and luviship anglish budy u rocks
tHE mEtaL GoDs™: NAZIM BHAI, IS VERY GUTFUL MANS, HE WORKRINGS HARD FOR WARLD PEACE WITH FRIANDSHIL AND LOVSHIP.
NAZIM BHAI , IS THE NEXT JAMES BOND 007. HAIL NAZIM GODS.....
GOOD LIFE FOR UR CAREER, & THIS WORLD IS A LONELY PLACE, UR ON UR OWN.....
Sardar: Nazim Aka The Friendshipper of Orkut!
Master of all relations!
King of Loveship!
Prince chimp of chicks (literal)
He has the charisma the traits of the Englismen from Voctorian times. He is heir to the worlds largest and most reknowned kingdom ye that of LOVESHIP AND FRENCH KISS- bluff I mean Friend ships!
All make him friend to succeed in all relations!
he is alsio a chaila of all lovers!
Regards,
Sardar
Farukh: this man...hmmm how to define him...he is self explanatory...he is the worlds sexiest man and the most lovely person who will always bring smile on ur face when u see him...i love him so much as my friend...he is heart of indian chicks...as u can see from his profile tat he is interested in both men and women so i keep some distance from him lol.....anyways he is the worlds most wonderful man u will ever come to know...i love u nazimship and may our frandship remain like this forever.... U ROCK CATMAN....
THUPERMAN: Peoples not thinking that nazim is bogusfull like baba bengali from bombay local train. Nazim sayings only truths. You having luvship and fraindship problem than nazim solvification it instantly.
No Photo: Nazim saiding Luvship and friandship, eye dr man reallie likung what nazim man saiding.
Nazim man hass halli daveloped englush linguasticship skulls when he was satudung in class 7, but saadalie his taacher was not happyship with nazim man, failung him mani tames in the sam class. Nazim man never lost hopeship but satill pareached Luvship and friandship, He has also bin afferd UN sectarygenral ship by UN man. Nazim man envoy of luvship and Friandship.
No Photo : Nazim is one hot Kid. He is a babe Magnet. Chicks worship him and bow down to him. He owns one of the biggest Harem of Chicks, this side of the Ganges. His dream is to emulate his hero Hakeem Baba Zai and become the greatest sex guru ever.
No photo: Lovship and Friandship God!
Hunk...stealer of hearts...a phenomenon..
Nazimship never rocks...he always steers steady!
No Photo: Nazim i love your mustache, very nice, i'm jealous of it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What can I say but people were rolling on the floor today in my office. My boss has decided to charge me for the loss of productivity. *sigh*
I guess I will be working here my whole life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nazeem
NOTICES:"HEY YOU ALL PEOPLE IN THE ORKUT.BOY GALS AND EVERYBODY IN ORKUT.MY WARNING IS THAT PLAESE NOT ADD ME EVERYBODY.I HAVE MANY WORKS
TO DO.EMAIL ME IF YOU WANT ME ADD.BUT EVERY PEOPLE NOT ADD ME TAKE MY PERMISSION.AND ONLY GOOD PEOPLE ADD ME NO BAD."NAZIM SAYS.
hey hi boys girls and evrybody
im a nice guy
i want great frandship frm all boys and girls
i looking for my queen basically
i can be a very good fradship ...because im nice
evryone add me so dat frandship growth..so frands for ever
im smart evryone likes me ...i very open so ppl add me very quick
...they think i very nice
SO GALS wat u waiting for
add me on nazim_XYZ@hotmail.com
anybody need advise on love topics plz tell me i romantic and i know abt love very much so plzzz add me and tell i about your love problems i always ready to help girls only.i love very well to all gals n womens.i make good lov from every1 and friendship also.i play computer very good,play hockey,cricket and sports and all sports n games.AND!!!! i best player of love n friendship from gals n womens so wat u think of I u can scrap me everytime and anytime and talk me anything
His Testimonials:
Akbar: Nazim If u Staaand Against the oxford profeesssooor u may get them heart attack by ur frandship and luviship anglish budy u rocks
tHE mEtaL GoDs™: NAZIM BHAI, IS VERY GUTFUL MANS, HE WORKRINGS HARD FOR WARLD PEACE WITH FRIANDSHIL AND LOVSHIP.
NAZIM BHAI , IS THE NEXT JAMES BOND 007. HAIL NAZIM GODS.....
GOOD LIFE FOR UR CAREER, & THIS WORLD IS A LONELY PLACE, UR ON UR OWN.....
Sardar: Nazim Aka The Friendshipper of Orkut!
Master of all relations!
King of Loveship!
Prince chimp of chicks (literal)
He has the charisma the traits of the Englismen from Voctorian times. He is heir to the worlds largest and most reknowned kingdom ye that of LOVESHIP AND FRENCH KISS- bluff I mean Friend ships!
All make him friend to succeed in all relations!
he is alsio a chaila of all lovers!
Regards,
Sardar
Farukh: this man...hmmm how to define him...he is self explanatory...he is the worlds sexiest man and the most lovely person who will always bring smile on ur face when u see him...i love him so much as my friend...he is heart of indian chicks...as u can see from his profile tat he is interested in both men and women so i keep some distance from him lol.....anyways he is the worlds most wonderful man u will ever come to know...i love u nazimship and may our frandship remain like this forever.... U ROCK CATMAN....
THUPERMAN: Peoples not thinking that nazim is bogusfull like baba bengali from bombay local train. Nazim sayings only truths. You having luvship and fraindship problem than nazim solvification it instantly.
No Photo: Nazim saiding Luvship and friandship, eye dr man reallie likung what nazim man saiding.
Nazim man hass halli daveloped englush linguasticship skulls when he was satudung in class 7, but saadalie his taacher was not happyship with nazim man, failung him mani tames in the sam class. Nazim man never lost hopeship but satill pareached Luvship and friandship, He has also bin afferd UN sectarygenral ship by UN man. Nazim man envoy of luvship and Friandship.
No Photo : Nazim is one hot Kid. He is a babe Magnet. Chicks worship him and bow down to him. He owns one of the biggest Harem of Chicks, this side of the Ganges. His dream is to emulate his hero Hakeem Baba Zai and become the greatest sex guru ever.
No photo: Lovship and Friandship God!
Hunk...stealer of hearts...a phenomenon..
Nazimship never rocks...he always steers steady!
No Photo: Nazim i love your mustache, very nice, i'm jealous of it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What can I say but people were rolling on the floor today in my office. My boss has decided to charge me for the loss of productivity. *sigh*
I guess I will be working here my whole life.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Subscribe to humiliation
There is a nice ad playing in the radio nowadays. It goes like this.
Voice Over (VO): Miss Janice from Goa.
Miss Janice: When I brush my teeth in the morning, my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’.
When I am having lunch my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’
And when I am lying in bed, my heart says, 'Goodbye Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’ *sobs*
VO: Be prepared to say goodbye to your favorite Cricketers or call your cable operator and ask for Neo TV, the only 24 hour Cricket Channel. Get Neo TV and watch India getting clobbered in Sri Lanka in January, hammered in West Indies in February, bludgeoned in the Afro Asia Cup in March. Hurry call your cable operator now!
(Ok the words in italics are my contributions )
Voice Over (VO): Miss Janice from Goa.
Miss Janice: When I brush my teeth in the morning, my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’.
When I am having lunch my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’
And when I am lying in bed, my heart says, 'Goodbye Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’ *sobs*
VO: Be prepared to say goodbye to your favorite Cricketers or call your cable operator and ask for Neo TV, the only 24 hour Cricket Channel. Get Neo TV and watch India getting clobbered in Sri Lanka in January, hammered in West Indies in February, bludgeoned in the Afro Asia Cup in March. Hurry call your cable operator now!
(Ok the words in italics are my contributions )
Friday, January 05, 2007
The Y generation
Yesterday, my cousin sister's 8 year old daughter acompanied me to the ATM. She stood watching fascinated as the man before me took out money from the ATM. When it was my turn to use the ATM, I noticed my niece going around and round the ATM with a puzzled look. Finally she looked at me and said "But where is the man who gives you the money?" :)
Kids are the cutest aren't they? She also taught me the worlds shortest Nursery Rhyme on the way back to her house and it is...
Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?
No! F**k Off!
...and I thought it was "three bags full"
...obviously it is not.
Kids are the cutest aren't they? She also taught me the worlds shortest Nursery Rhyme on the way back to her house and it is...
Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?
No! F**k Off!
...and I thought it was "three bags full"
...obviously it is not.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Creativity at work
Last week we had our Christmas party at this lovely Lounge Bar. It was a cosy get together of just our department folks. The highlight of the party was imitation of the big bosses and little quirks and eccentricities of the good folks in our team by a bunch of amateur actors in our team. Quite harmless and funny and hysterically funny after the cocktails started doing their stuff.
The most hilarious two was of a guy and the way he talks to clients on his mobile falling off the balcony and getting up without pausing and continuing his persuasive sales talk ( his mobile bills exceeded his Sales figures this year but he still met his target) The second skit was that of a gal and the way she parks her car.
The parking of a car by a gal was quite similar to the forwards you get in emails. Anyways, the 'actors' showed her driving in and nearly knocking a pillar or two of the basement car parking. Then she parks the car only to be told by security that it is wrongly parked. Finally she manages to park the car after several tries.
She then turns the rear view mirror towards herself and combs her hair, checks her makeup, pops an Orbit in her mouth, offer some to others in the basement and then gets down only to realise that her laptop and bag are in the rear seat. So she gets in again and removes the laptop and locks the car again only to realise that she has left her phone on the dashboard of her car. She retrieves this and then goes around checking the doors of the car that has central locking system. After she reaches the Lift she realises that she has left her tiffin carrier in the car and dashes back. By now she is loaded with a laptop, hand bag, Tiffin carrier, Mobile and car keys. She drops these in a steady stream on her way up the lift and to her floor with the security guys picking them up one by one. The last scene showed the security guys with a loaded cart coming to deposit her stuff in her workstation and the gal counting all her stuff carefully and then exclaiming, "but where is my IPod?!!"
I was laughing hysterically till my friend told me that it was me they were mimicking. Then it was not so funny. But a quick round of cocktails made me see the funny side of the performance again.
For our New Year get together, yours truly has something planned....and I have all the big bosses blessings too , heh heh which means quite a lot of skeletons of people are gonna come tumbling out la la la la
Life is good!!!!
:p
The most hilarious two was of a guy and the way he talks to clients on his mobile falling off the balcony and getting up without pausing and continuing his persuasive sales talk ( his mobile bills exceeded his Sales figures this year but he still met his target) The second skit was that of a gal and the way she parks her car.
The parking of a car by a gal was quite similar to the forwards you get in emails. Anyways, the 'actors' showed her driving in and nearly knocking a pillar or two of the basement car parking. Then she parks the car only to be told by security that it is wrongly parked. Finally she manages to park the car after several tries.
She then turns the rear view mirror towards herself and combs her hair, checks her makeup, pops an Orbit in her mouth, offer some to others in the basement and then gets down only to realise that her laptop and bag are in the rear seat. So she gets in again and removes the laptop and locks the car again only to realise that she has left her phone on the dashboard of her car. She retrieves this and then goes around checking the doors of the car that has central locking system. After she reaches the Lift she realises that she has left her tiffin carrier in the car and dashes back. By now she is loaded with a laptop, hand bag, Tiffin carrier, Mobile and car keys. She drops these in a steady stream on her way up the lift and to her floor with the security guys picking them up one by one. The last scene showed the security guys with a loaded cart coming to deposit her stuff in her workstation and the gal counting all her stuff carefully and then exclaiming, "but where is my IPod?!!"
I was laughing hysterically till my friend told me that it was me they were mimicking. Then it was not so funny. But a quick round of cocktails made me see the funny side of the performance again.
For our New Year get together, yours truly has something planned....and I have all the big bosses blessings too , heh heh which means quite a lot of skeletons of people are gonna come tumbling out la la la la
Life is good!!!!
:p
Monday, December 25, 2006
A merry Christmas indeed!
It’s a lovely Christmas eve morning if I may put it that a way, here in my village in Kerala. From the time I have landed here, I have been roaming around visiting people, in our neighborhood. It’s a delight to see people’s reaction as you open the gate and walk in. Pure joy, some tears and some emotional outbursts, it’s like walking back into time to childhood. Yesterday I went around the small township, walked into the quaint old shops, wished the elders, took blessings and reveled in their attentions. I prefer to wear a salwar as I do my rounds. The gesture is appreciated. Women landing up at the market in pants are still looked at as outsiders.
I can see several NRI’s shopping. Some of the buxom ladies are wearing tight pants inviting stares. You can see the chasm between the two sets of people. One are quite oblivious of the stares and quite comfortable in their outfits, while the townsfolk are embarrassed at seeing fat women in pants. I am caught in the middle, while I giggle at the jokes doing the rounds in which me, “our” girl is included I empathize with the NRI ladies too because they are acting naturally and not trying to make a statement or something like that. Annam, my maid, who is accompanying me is wonderstruck at the NRI ladies and whispers that she thinks they are going to explode any moment. I tell her that these ladies were wearing what they felt comfortable in and that we had no right to pass judgment! She agrees solemnly trying hard not to laugh.
As a kid I remember, when we drove out back to Bangalore after our vacations, we would stop at this small village market and say bye to all the uncles who ran the shops here. There would be wistful byes and the all too familiar scenes of people standing at bus stops waving goodbye to families heading back out of Kerala. We would be the only ones going to nearby Bangalore.
There is a change in the air now. People seem somehow ‘grown up’. There is a comfort level among people. Unlike yester years, when family members worked far off in the North, nowadays most people have their kith and kin in Bangalore and Chennai. Visits are frequent and thus there is more contentment in homes.
Infosys, IBM, Microsoft, Accenture, GE are common names and being an English grad is not such a sad deal anymore :P People understand what I do, or least have a hazy notion and know that there is more to IT companies than software/hardware engineering. I saw an appachan working in his field wearing an Accenture T Shirt. “magan accenturil annu” he informs proudly.
The area is seeing a huge rise in IIMites. A good sign indeed! Changanassery town hasn’t changed much, though I can see some snazzy Supermarkets and shops. But the white mundu clad men and Ammachis with the ubiquitous umbrella still abound.
Today at church I met the entire village. This is an agrarian community and everyone knows everyone. There is so much joy when people spot you and as is the usual practice, we lingered around till 11 after mass, greeting people asking about "viseshams”. My Dad comes here every month or so, so he is not the centre of attraction…we are :P Thanks to the many airlines that have mushroomed, my Dad can now fly down monthly.
Liberalization, besides providing job opportunities, has bought families closer together. Children drop in more regularly and not only during summer vacations like the olden days. There is less talk of whose car is better and more talk of which car is more fuel efficient. More emphasis on two wheelers than four wheelers. I see a lot of people who want to return and in my area; land is being preserved for such an event. A very heartwarming thought indeed.
There is less talk of getting girls married and more talk of a girl being career minded *whew* :P A welcome change I see in the women folk is the increasing trend to marry late after settling down in a job.
The contentment in the air is almost palpable. Yesterday I went to meet our old parish priest. He presided over my parent’s marriage, our baptisms and First Holy Communions. As I wheeled him around the well manicured lawns and garden around the convent, he filled me in on all the happenings in our village. He is like a social barometer for us. An acutely sensitive person, he has always rightly predicted the mood of the people. He seems to be happy that the young population has more opportunities to come home now. He feels this will infuse new thoughts and ideas into the population here and bring about changes in the mindset. He feels that this is the crucial transfusion of new thoughts that Kerala needs. Sitting and talking to him I feel so far away from Bangalore and more close to my roots. I realized as he talked, how much part of this community I am, wherever I am and whatever I may be at work.
Change is inevitable, this community is also experiencing it, but what I witnessed is a change for the better. Perhaps there are ugly sides to it, I don’t know. But for the common people, there seems to be reason to cheer this Christmas.
(This post was written on 24th December)
I can see several NRI’s shopping. Some of the buxom ladies are wearing tight pants inviting stares. You can see the chasm between the two sets of people. One are quite oblivious of the stares and quite comfortable in their outfits, while the townsfolk are embarrassed at seeing fat women in pants. I am caught in the middle, while I giggle at the jokes doing the rounds in which me, “our” girl is included I empathize with the NRI ladies too because they are acting naturally and not trying to make a statement or something like that. Annam, my maid, who is accompanying me is wonderstruck at the NRI ladies and whispers that she thinks they are going to explode any moment. I tell her that these ladies were wearing what they felt comfortable in and that we had no right to pass judgment! She agrees solemnly trying hard not to laugh.
As a kid I remember, when we drove out back to Bangalore after our vacations, we would stop at this small village market and say bye to all the uncles who ran the shops here. There would be wistful byes and the all too familiar scenes of people standing at bus stops waving goodbye to families heading back out of Kerala. We would be the only ones going to nearby Bangalore.
There is a change in the air now. People seem somehow ‘grown up’. There is a comfort level among people. Unlike yester years, when family members worked far off in the North, nowadays most people have their kith and kin in Bangalore and Chennai. Visits are frequent and thus there is more contentment in homes.
Infosys, IBM, Microsoft, Accenture, GE are common names and being an English grad is not such a sad deal anymore :P People understand what I do, or least have a hazy notion and know that there is more to IT companies than software/hardware engineering. I saw an appachan working in his field wearing an Accenture T Shirt. “magan accenturil annu” he informs proudly.
The area is seeing a huge rise in IIMites. A good sign indeed! Changanassery town hasn’t changed much, though I can see some snazzy Supermarkets and shops. But the white mundu clad men and Ammachis with the ubiquitous umbrella still abound.
Today at church I met the entire village. This is an agrarian community and everyone knows everyone. There is so much joy when people spot you and as is the usual practice, we lingered around till 11 after mass, greeting people asking about "viseshams”. My Dad comes here every month or so, so he is not the centre of attraction…we are :P Thanks to the many airlines that have mushroomed, my Dad can now fly down monthly.
Liberalization, besides providing job opportunities, has bought families closer together. Children drop in more regularly and not only during summer vacations like the olden days. There is less talk of whose car is better and more talk of which car is more fuel efficient. More emphasis on two wheelers than four wheelers. I see a lot of people who want to return and in my area; land is being preserved for such an event. A very heartwarming thought indeed.
There is less talk of getting girls married and more talk of a girl being career minded *whew* :P A welcome change I see in the women folk is the increasing trend to marry late after settling down in a job.
The contentment in the air is almost palpable. Yesterday I went to meet our old parish priest. He presided over my parent’s marriage, our baptisms and First Holy Communions. As I wheeled him around the well manicured lawns and garden around the convent, he filled me in on all the happenings in our village. He is like a social barometer for us. An acutely sensitive person, he has always rightly predicted the mood of the people. He seems to be happy that the young population has more opportunities to come home now. He feels this will infuse new thoughts and ideas into the population here and bring about changes in the mindset. He feels that this is the crucial transfusion of new thoughts that Kerala needs. Sitting and talking to him I feel so far away from Bangalore and more close to my roots. I realized as he talked, how much part of this community I am, wherever I am and whatever I may be at work.
Change is inevitable, this community is also experiencing it, but what I witnessed is a change for the better. Perhaps there are ugly sides to it, I don’t know. But for the common people, there seems to be reason to cheer this Christmas.
(This post was written on 24th December)
Thursday, December 21, 2006
To a special person...
This time last year, my family and extended family were busy with a big event in the family and that was my eldest brother’s wedding. I was damn excited about the whole thing with no care in the world. Since my brother is the eldest grandchild in my Dad’s family, it was considered a special occasion with the entire family dividing duties for the wedding. It took a big load off our shoulders.
It was a couple of days before the wedding that the import of the occasion struck me. Here was a guy who doubled up as an elder brother and Dad during my growing years and who was now getting married. It was like as if my parents were getting married to different people and going away. I suddenly felt like an orphan. The realisation hit me like a thunderbolt and I went into a minor depression. I remember writing in a mail to a friend that in a few days I would be losing my brother. I do not know why I wrote that and why I thought that. She replied right back telling me that I would never lose my brother no matter what.
Around this time the realisation that her eldest son is getting married must have hit my mom too because she also went very quite. This was the little boy who helped her raise her other two younger brats because my Dad was in the Gulf then. ( the reasons are here) The boy who had to feed his little sister when he was barely 8 years old and keep an eye on her while his she, my mom battled with the onerous task of keeping my hyperactive second brother from killing himself with all sorts of aimless brainless activities. This was the boy whom her daughter called “achcha” for the first time, which according to family legend is what made my Dad pack up his bag and leave the Gulf for good. (Though he hotly denies this, my Dad did spend the first month after getting back teaching me to call him achcha :p ). And this was the guy whom young moms in the family consulted when my mom was out and they needed help.
Young mom: What is that you used to give your sister when she had a tummy ache
Bro: Bonnisan!
Young mom: And what’s the dosage?
Bro: A teaspoon three times a day and be careful, if your son is anything like my sister then make sure you don’t show him the bottle or it will be smashed to pieces.
While most boys his age played and enjoyed themselves, my chetan had to keep an eye on me as I crawled around the house besides attend to his studies and homework, with a lot of “silverine spit the dog out right now!!!” thrown in. This was the guy who never had a proper childhood due to parenting duties dumped on his lap when he was so small. And this was the guy who loved being a parent to his younger siblings and never grumbled about the responsibilities on his young shoulders.
He was the person my teachers complained to because complaining to my Dad was useless. He would swell with pride when informed that I had pulled someone’s hair or not done my homework. He bought a semblance of order in my life, a discipline that normally should have been put in place by my Dad. He is the guy who kept an eye on my Dad, when I was forbidden to eat Ice Creams for a year due to a throat condition. My Dad somehow managed to get me one though my brother’s strict vigilance did pay off and I completed that year hating him for being so rigid.
And a lot more things besides...
On his wedding day last year (Dec 31st) I was a mess, I was sniffling around the house. My Dad was a little emotional too and my mom was not doing too well either. My second brother was too busy running around and the house was chock full of relatives. By mid morning my friends got a little concerned and I started getting calls from them telling me not to cry and spoil my brother’s big day. This made me cry more. Relations were teasing me saying that I could not barge into my brother’s room anymore and that made me feel worse!!
Throughout the day people like Sunitha and Anish kept calling trying to cheer me up. By evening my brother noticed the plight that mom and me were in and took us aside for a meeting and told us that all that he was doing was going to the Church for some time, getting married and after the Reception would be right back home for our annual New Year get together. When he put it so matter of factly like getting married was no big deal, things just fell in place. On his wedding day instead of glowing like a groom to be, he was back to parenting me and supporting his mother :(
Suddenly the past three days emotional outbursts looked childish and silly. I felt really bad for acting like a kid and spoiling that one special day in my big brother’s life. I got through the Wedding Mass and the Reception without a hitch but a lingering guilt remained and still remains. Like most of my misdemeanours in the past I know my brother will brush this one too aside indulgently, but the incident did make me grow up....fast :P
This is my 100th post here and I want to dedicate this to one of the most important person in my life. Thank you, you are the greatest Cheta.
Wishing you all a very happy and joyous Christmas and prosperous New Year!!
It was a couple of days before the wedding that the import of the occasion struck me. Here was a guy who doubled up as an elder brother and Dad during my growing years and who was now getting married. It was like as if my parents were getting married to different people and going away. I suddenly felt like an orphan. The realisation hit me like a thunderbolt and I went into a minor depression. I remember writing in a mail to a friend that in a few days I would be losing my brother. I do not know why I wrote that and why I thought that. She replied right back telling me that I would never lose my brother no matter what.
Around this time the realisation that her eldest son is getting married must have hit my mom too because she also went very quite. This was the little boy who helped her raise her other two younger brats because my Dad was in the Gulf then. ( the reasons are here) The boy who had to feed his little sister when he was barely 8 years old and keep an eye on her while his she, my mom battled with the onerous task of keeping my hyperactive second brother from killing himself with all sorts of aimless brainless activities. This was the boy whom her daughter called “achcha” for the first time, which according to family legend is what made my Dad pack up his bag and leave the Gulf for good. (Though he hotly denies this, my Dad did spend the first month after getting back teaching me to call him achcha :p ). And this was the guy whom young moms in the family consulted when my mom was out and they needed help.
Young mom: What is that you used to give your sister when she had a tummy ache
Bro: Bonnisan!
Young mom: And what’s the dosage?
Bro: A teaspoon three times a day and be careful, if your son is anything like my sister then make sure you don’t show him the bottle or it will be smashed to pieces.
While most boys his age played and enjoyed themselves, my chetan had to keep an eye on me as I crawled around the house besides attend to his studies and homework, with a lot of “silverine spit the dog out right now!!!” thrown in. This was the guy who never had a proper childhood due to parenting duties dumped on his lap when he was so small. And this was the guy who loved being a parent to his younger siblings and never grumbled about the responsibilities on his young shoulders.
He was the person my teachers complained to because complaining to my Dad was useless. He would swell with pride when informed that I had pulled someone’s hair or not done my homework. He bought a semblance of order in my life, a discipline that normally should have been put in place by my Dad. He is the guy who kept an eye on my Dad, when I was forbidden to eat Ice Creams for a year due to a throat condition. My Dad somehow managed to get me one though my brother’s strict vigilance did pay off and I completed that year hating him for being so rigid.
And a lot more things besides...
On his wedding day last year (Dec 31st) I was a mess, I was sniffling around the house. My Dad was a little emotional too and my mom was not doing too well either. My second brother was too busy running around and the house was chock full of relatives. By mid morning my friends got a little concerned and I started getting calls from them telling me not to cry and spoil my brother’s big day. This made me cry more. Relations were teasing me saying that I could not barge into my brother’s room anymore and that made me feel worse!!
Throughout the day people like Sunitha and Anish kept calling trying to cheer me up. By evening my brother noticed the plight that mom and me were in and took us aside for a meeting and told us that all that he was doing was going to the Church for some time, getting married and after the Reception would be right back home for our annual New Year get together. When he put it so matter of factly like getting married was no big deal, things just fell in place. On his wedding day instead of glowing like a groom to be, he was back to parenting me and supporting his mother :(
Suddenly the past three days emotional outbursts looked childish and silly. I felt really bad for acting like a kid and spoiling that one special day in my big brother’s life. I got through the Wedding Mass and the Reception without a hitch but a lingering guilt remained and still remains. Like most of my misdemeanours in the past I know my brother will brush this one too aside indulgently, but the incident did make me grow up....fast :P
This is my 100th post here and I want to dedicate this to one of the most important person in my life. Thank you, you are the greatest Cheta.
Wishing you all a very happy and joyous Christmas and prosperous New Year!!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Weekend blues
Yet another Friday approaches. A practise that I have been following from my last company was sending out “Yipee its Friday” mails. Friday morning these mails go out and all the girls respond with their version of happiness, exuberance, ecstasy etc. at the thought of the weekend. The guys look on with tolerant amusement. Most of them can’t understand what the hoo ha is all about.
Last Friday as is the practise I bought my car which means I can hang around in town without worrying about missing the office transport and the whole gang of girls can chill out for some time before heading home, PG digs, Apartments etc. As I left the office, almost skipping on my way out, a guy colleague asked me why we girls were so enthusiastic about Friday. I told him that the thought of doing nothing, or taking care of girly things like pedicure, manicure, a hair cut or washing clothes that needs careful washing etc makes us feel like a woman again. The office sort of desexes you (stop guffawing G and stop grinning Sachin R K). Besides just curling up with a book in your bed is also something to look forward to. We girls rarely get bored. My colleague seemed satisfied with my answer but remarked that most single guys found weekends boring.
I have noticed this myself. Most singles guys in my office find weekends boring though they do welcome the weekend break from work. And this is something that puzzles me. Girls always find something or the other to keep them occupied and rarely talk of being bored. But guys seem to want something more than just reading or lolling around and what is more amazing is that they have all the resources like a bike and the sheer freedom of being born a ‘male’ to do stuff that we girls cannot do.
In my last place of work I was made part of the Activity Committee since I was on grinning terms with everyone in the office and we literally got people off their backs by organising Treks and Weekend Trips to Chikmagalur etc. The activity caught on and now they have it regularly. The activity also bought guys closer and friendships formed as guys with similar interest were introduced to each other. But it took a lot of efforts from my part to do what girls would have done without an Activity Committee. And that is make friends and do things together. Guys seem to live like islands. Which perhaps is the reason they are so lonely after leaving college. They seem to take so long to make friends. I wonder why? Girls on the other hand have no qualms to who their colleagues are. As soon as we join a new company we go around introducing ourselves and soon join the others for lunch, shopping, get together and the whole thing happens so naturally. On the other hand, guys joining newly will be seen sitting alone for lunch or with team mates. Even here in this office, a sustained activity chart from the corporate communications team has helped in bringing the men together. But they exclaim that it was a lot of effort to get guys together.
I wonder why?!
Last Friday as is the practise I bought my car which means I can hang around in town without worrying about missing the office transport and the whole gang of girls can chill out for some time before heading home, PG digs, Apartments etc. As I left the office, almost skipping on my way out, a guy colleague asked me why we girls were so enthusiastic about Friday. I told him that the thought of doing nothing, or taking care of girly things like pedicure, manicure, a hair cut or washing clothes that needs careful washing etc makes us feel like a woman again. The office sort of desexes you (stop guffawing G and stop grinning Sachin R K). Besides just curling up with a book in your bed is also something to look forward to. We girls rarely get bored. My colleague seemed satisfied with my answer but remarked that most single guys found weekends boring.
I have noticed this myself. Most singles guys in my office find weekends boring though they do welcome the weekend break from work. And this is something that puzzles me. Girls always find something or the other to keep them occupied and rarely talk of being bored. But guys seem to want something more than just reading or lolling around and what is more amazing is that they have all the resources like a bike and the sheer freedom of being born a ‘male’ to do stuff that we girls cannot do.
In my last place of work I was made part of the Activity Committee since I was on grinning terms with everyone in the office and we literally got people off their backs by organising Treks and Weekend Trips to Chikmagalur etc. The activity caught on and now they have it regularly. The activity also bought guys closer and friendships formed as guys with similar interest were introduced to each other. But it took a lot of efforts from my part to do what girls would have done without an Activity Committee. And that is make friends and do things together. Guys seem to live like islands. Which perhaps is the reason they are so lonely after leaving college. They seem to take so long to make friends. I wonder why? Girls on the other hand have no qualms to who their colleagues are. As soon as we join a new company we go around introducing ourselves and soon join the others for lunch, shopping, get together and the whole thing happens so naturally. On the other hand, guys joining newly will be seen sitting alone for lunch or with team mates. Even here in this office, a sustained activity chart from the corporate communications team has helped in bringing the men together. But they exclaim that it was a lot of effort to get guys together.
I wonder why?!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
From perfect to imperfect
I was passing by a house in my friend’s neighborhood. Outside a house a father and a mother were beating up a child. I watched in horror as people walked by not even noticing the event. The parents looked very annoyed and I heard them explaining to an old lady who intervened that the child had failed in his exams. It was unbelievable!!! What lesson were they thinking that they were teaching their child through beatings? The value of education or the fear of physical violence!?!
If it is the latter, they have succeeded. But if it is the former then they have failed miserably. So who should get the beatings now???
I have never understood the concept of beating a child. Beating a child would essentially mean a failure on the part of the parent to communicate with the child. This happens when people have children for the sake of having children and hence are not committed to its upbringing. They take care of its physical needs but his emotional needs are never a consideration.
I have observed many young parents within my family and our family friends circle. Parents who don’t have time for the child are the ones who beat kids. It may not be brutal beatings but some form of punishment like pulling the child ears. On the other hand, totally involved parents seem to guide their kids through life without having to use any force or threat of force with the child.
Before I have parents hurling brick and stones on me, let me explain that I am an experienced baby sitter and I have through sheer common sense got kids to listen to me without resorting to the “I will tell your parents if you don’t listen to me” type of threats. Kids are very practical people and I have noticed that a lot of talking and interaction with them is needed. That requires patience and time.
And what is striking is, when you treat a kid like an adult he/she tends to responds to you better than if you were to treat him like a kid. Of course there will be petulance and sometimes they just don’t want to listen, which I think is a child’s right as a child :)
I love kids and love having them around and there is one little one peeping into my monitor right now as I type. When parents talk about how difficult it is to handle kids, I normally keep quite or I get the “wait till you are a parent” lecture. But then I have been a parent a hundred times over with the kids I baby sit and never have I encountered a child who does not respond to me unless he has been handled badly by the adults in his life and hence looks at me like the adults he is used to.
But even in this case, the moment the child sees an adult treating him reasonably inspite of his past experiences with adults, he will respond positively.
I just wish people would realise the damage they inflict on a child's mind when they beat his body.
If it is the latter, they have succeeded. But if it is the former then they have failed miserably. So who should get the beatings now???
I have never understood the concept of beating a child. Beating a child would essentially mean a failure on the part of the parent to communicate with the child. This happens when people have children for the sake of having children and hence are not committed to its upbringing. They take care of its physical needs but his emotional needs are never a consideration.
I have observed many young parents within my family and our family friends circle. Parents who don’t have time for the child are the ones who beat kids. It may not be brutal beatings but some form of punishment like pulling the child ears. On the other hand, totally involved parents seem to guide their kids through life without having to use any force or threat of force with the child.
Before I have parents hurling brick and stones on me, let me explain that I am an experienced baby sitter and I have through sheer common sense got kids to listen to me without resorting to the “I will tell your parents if you don’t listen to me” type of threats. Kids are very practical people and I have noticed that a lot of talking and interaction with them is needed. That requires patience and time.
And what is striking is, when you treat a kid like an adult he/she tends to responds to you better than if you were to treat him like a kid. Of course there will be petulance and sometimes they just don’t want to listen, which I think is a child’s right as a child :)
I love kids and love having them around and there is one little one peeping into my monitor right now as I type. When parents talk about how difficult it is to handle kids, I normally keep quite or I get the “wait till you are a parent” lecture. But then I have been a parent a hundred times over with the kids I baby sit and never have I encountered a child who does not respond to me unless he has been handled badly by the adults in his life and hence looks at me like the adults he is used to.
But even in this case, the moment the child sees an adult treating him reasonably inspite of his past experiences with adults, he will respond positively.
I just wish people would realise the damage they inflict on a child's mind when they beat his body.
Monday, December 04, 2006
The mile high humor club
This week I have done been flying like crazy from one city to another. I flew mostly Jet and Indian Airlines, now re christened
“ Indian”. I noticed that the in flight crew of “Indian” had a sense of humor while the in flight crew of the private airlines were polite and distant. Here are a few in flight experiences with “Indian”.
On a flight from Mumbai to Delhi, the pilot was coming around shaking hands with random passengers. A lady totally bowled over and all agog by the dashing pilot asked him the name of the after shave he was wearing. He answered with a smile and a wink in my direction” Old Monk”. The joke went over her head.
(And…no I didn’t wink back :p)
On a flight to Chennai one absolutely drunk passenger kept asking a stewardess for “balm” because he had headache. Fed up she sent a Steward:
Steward (officiously): “ I am sorry sir, due to security reasons we are not allowed to carry ‘bombs’”.
Passenger: Oh!!!
He kept quite for the rest of the flight after that!
And lastly people flying “Indian” too have a keen sense of humor as this passenger displayed.
On a night flight back to Bangalore. I am in the aisle seat and next to me in the middle seat is a guy in his 30’s I think. He asks the Air Hostess for a glass of water. The over worked and over stressed lady brings a glass of water and slams it on his table muttering under her breath “f***k y**” or something like that.
Without batting an eyelid our man turns to her and says earnestly “How I wish you would”
Dunno if this was an original line but no prizes for guessing who giggled hysterically.
“ Indian”. I noticed that the in flight crew of “Indian” had a sense of humor while the in flight crew of the private airlines were polite and distant. Here are a few in flight experiences with “Indian”.
On a flight from Mumbai to Delhi, the pilot was coming around shaking hands with random passengers. A lady totally bowled over and all agog by the dashing pilot asked him the name of the after shave he was wearing. He answered with a smile and a wink in my direction” Old Monk”. The joke went over her head.
(And…no I didn’t wink back :p)
On a flight to Chennai one absolutely drunk passenger kept asking a stewardess for “balm” because he had headache. Fed up she sent a Steward:
Steward (officiously): “ I am sorry sir, due to security reasons we are not allowed to carry ‘bombs’”.
Passenger: Oh!!!
He kept quite for the rest of the flight after that!
And lastly people flying “Indian” too have a keen sense of humor as this passenger displayed.
On a night flight back to Bangalore. I am in the aisle seat and next to me in the middle seat is a guy in his 30’s I think. He asks the Air Hostess for a glass of water. The over worked and over stressed lady brings a glass of water and slams it on his table muttering under her breath “f***k y**” or something like that.
Without batting an eyelid our man turns to her and says earnestly “How I wish you would”
Dunno if this was an original line but no prizes for guessing who giggled hysterically.
Friday, December 01, 2006
I survived
This Week
Monday: 9 hours of meeting
Tuesday: 5 hours of meetings
Wednesday: Four hours of vendor meetings and briefings
Thursday: A total flop show by the Event Managers at the venue, redoing of stall at venue at the nth hour and 10 hours of standing and supervising that
Friday: ...is still young ...
Monday I kick ass
R.I.P Ad Agency and Event Managers
Amen
Monday: 9 hours of meeting
Tuesday: 5 hours of meetings
Wednesday: Four hours of vendor meetings and briefings
Thursday: A total flop show by the Event Managers at the venue, redoing of stall at venue at the nth hour and 10 hours of standing and supervising that
Friday: ...is still young ...
Monday I kick ass
R.I.P Ad Agency and Event Managers
Amen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)