Half-a-Writer

The Wish

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Sun, 15 Jul 2012 12:18:00 +0000

“Carnatic music runs in my blood. My great grand-father Kumabakonam Vaithyanathan Iyer was a musical genius. It is said the late Governor General Rajagopalachari stood up and applauded when he heard my great grand-father sing at the Tyagaraja Aradhana music festival. My grand-father Kumbakonam Pattabhiraman Iyer was the first in our family to travel outside of India. He has performed in front of the Queen of the England. My father Kumbakonam Ananthanarayanan Iyer won the Padma Vibhushan award for vocal music,” said Kumbakonam Venkataramani Iyer. There was pride in his voice and his eyes lit up when he spoke about his musical lineage.

Suddenly his head dropped and his shoulders slouched. He shook his head and let out a big sigh.

“My son Parthasarathy,” he said in a low tone,” does not have an iota of music in him. After six generations the line has been broken. I have tried everything possible, but I guess the Lord has other plans. Some of the most prominent playback singers and musicians today are my students. But my son has turned out to be a dud.”

“Please do not say that Venkataramani. Did you see the photos Sarathy has taken? They have appeared in the National Geographic magazine. It has made him famous, “ said Bala Gopalan. “Today he has made a name for himself. Maybe there is another destiny for him.”

“Another destiny? What does Kumbakonam Venkataramani ‘s son do? He takes pictures of snakes and butterflies. Great! Do you know how frustrating it is when I go out? People laugh behind my back. I put my head down in shame when people me ask about my son. I understand your situation Bala. After all, your daughter Shyamala is married to Parthasarathy. You have been a good friend for so many years, tell me, what sin have I committed to have a son like this. Sometimes I wish I never had such a son.”

“Please do not say that Ramani. Do you know how frustrating it for Sarathy to be able to not sing? There were many days when he used to come home and cry sitting on the thinnai. Since the last ten years both of you have neither spoken nor seen each other. What will be, will be. Change is the necessity of life Ramani and maybe it’s time to let go of your ego. You wife Sarasa has also lived in pain for many years and she is torn between you and her son. Now there is a good reason as well. If not for your son or your wife, at least for your six month old grand-daughter. “

There was a long silence. “You are right Bala. What will be, will be. I have no heir. Please do not come here again as Parthasarathy’s father-in-law. However you are always welcome as a friend.” Saying so Venkataramani got up from the chair and walked out of the room.

The bright white light enveloped him. Surprisingly the light provided him not heat but a tingling sense of coolness. He was floating in the white light. “Am I in a dream or is this reality?” he thought….

“You have a chance to change your life.”

He quickly turned around to see where the voice came from. But he found no one….

“Who is this?” he asked.

“The question to ask my dear friend is, do you want to change your life?”

“Tell me who you are and what do you want,” he demanded.

“Well, consider me a,” the voice paused,” a well-wisher. So, do you want the chance to change your life?”

“I have a good life. A loving wife, a beautiful daughter, a good job and great friends. What more can I ask for? Why should I change my life?”

“Tell me, do you love music?”

“Yes. Who doesn’t?”

“How about a chance to be able to sing. Be better than you father. Earn his pride and redeem yourself. What if you were given a chance to re-write your life? Would you take it?”

The questions confused him. His adolescence had been spent in frustration and solitude. Deep inside he knew he wanted nothing more. Just be able to sing one song. Prove he was his father’s son. What if the voice really had the power to provide him that chance?

“How do I know you can do what you are saying?” he asked.

“You just have to trust,” said the voice.

“OK, what if I take the offer you are making me?”

“Well, then on the third sunrise from today, make your wish.”

“There are no free lunches in this world. So what’s the price?”

There was long silence. Finally the voice said, “Maya…..”

When Sarathy opened his eyes, it was complete darkness. He groped for the light switch and flicked it on. But nothing happened. He flicked the switch a few more times but in vain.

“The power is out,” said his wife. “Try to find the flashlight. I remember it being in the top shelf of the book stand.”

“No, it’s ok. The power outages are getting longer. The first thing we are going to do when the magazine pays me is get a UPS. The motorcycle can wait a bit. At least with the UPS, the fan and lights will work and Maya will be able to sleep comfortably at night,” said Sarathy.

“Did you have a bad dream?" asked his wife.

Sarathy was about to mention his conversation with the voice but held back.

When there was no response from her husband Shyamala said, “You worry too much about me and Maya. We are just fine.”

“All my life I have been falling short on expectations. During my teens I strived hard to meet the expectations of my father. When I couldn’t, I ran from home. Now am striving to provide at least a basic standard of life for my family and am still short.”

“Come on, Sarathy. Today you are doing what you love. With a camera in hand you can produce sheer magic. You just need to believe in yourself some more. Maya and I have very little expectations from you. We just need you to be happy. Your smile brings unbound joy on Maya’s face. Same on mine as well.”

“You have too much faith in me Shyamala. My father once called me a dud in front of my whole family. That day I didn’t believe it, but maybe it’s true.” Shymala could sense the frustration in her husband’s voice. Before she could say anything, he got from the bed and left the room.

Sarathy found the latches of the door and unlocked them. He opened the balcony door to let the night’s cool breeze in. As he stood in the balcony his mind wandered to the dream he had. What if it is true? Could the voice really provide him a chance to re-write his life? Even if the offer was true, how would he be able to justify his actions to Shyamala? There was also a steep price pay. As the thoughts swirled in his head, he felt restless.

“Do not be a fool Sarathy!” shouted Vinay. “It’s just a dream. Think logically. Is it possible to change our past? We can only live in the present and through the choices we make, hope for a better future.”

“But what if it’s true? What if I can change my entire life? You know I will do anything to learn music. Just sing one song. Prove to my dad am worthy to be his son. You know it better than anyone Vinay, deep inside I yearn for my father’s love. When I hear you and others talk lovingly about your parents and family I am filled with remorse and envy. Its only when you do not have something, you will realize the value it holds.”

Vinay could sense the flood on emotions in his friend’s voice. “Ok let’s assume for five minutes that the dream you had was real. Let’s also assume that you make your wish and it is granted. You become a terrific singer and your father accepts you. What about your wife and child Sarathy? How will you ever be able to convince Shyamala? Maya is just six months old. You have no right to trade her to change your life! She is your future.”

Silence ensued for the next few minutes. Sarathy stared into his hot cup of coffee. Finally he said, “ Am just a common man Vinay. I too seek money and fame like all others. I have not achieved anything in my life till now. I do not want my wife or kids in the future to say – I have done nothing for them.”

“But can you carry the guilt all through your life? Do you think Shayama will ever forgive you? Hell, you must be insane if you think there will be a future for you. Yes, your dad will place you on a pedestal and you will ride success, but when you are alone the thought of your child and wife will push further each day down a dark hole from which you will never be able to climb out. Trust me my friend, if what you say is true, never make the wish. It will be the most regrettable decision of your life.” Vinay quickly got up and left the cafe in anger.

Each minute feels like an hour and each hour like a day. Vinay is avoiding me like the plague. I haven’t spoken to Shyamala properly in the last two days. I haven’t been able to look into Maya’s eyes either. It’s a difficult choice! It’s an insane choice! But don’t we all have to make choices every day? Some days the choices we make have lesser impact and on others it creates a sweeping change in our life. The question really is - how many of those choices we make are morally right? Can we say with pride that all the choices we make are selfless? Or is not based on materialism. The underpinning truth is we all compromise and live with guilt. To make a selfless choice requires courage and only a few have it. Today they are the greats in the hall of fame. So why should I be different?

As Sarathy sat in the balcony, the first rays of the sun emerged and he could see it kissing the surface of the earth. He closed his eyes and made his wish.

“Sarathy come quick. It’s Maya,” shouted Shyamala from behind.

“What happened?”

“Just come. You have to see this. Maya has turned on her belly and she is giggling. Get your camera.”

Suddenly the phone buzzed loudly. When Sarathy answered the call he could hear Vinay’s concerned voice at the other end, “What did you wish for?”

"To hell with music," said Sarathy. He slammed the phone down and rushed to get his camera.

Good Leadership – A dying art?

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 14:27:00 +0000

“Each group please list out the top 3 qualities of a good leader.”

As I heard this instruction from the trainer I slouched in the chair. This is something I did not expect to do on a Monday morning. As the group I was working with enthusiastically began to list out the qualities, I wondered how I was going to last the next five days in this training program. I smiled to myself as people in my group blurted out the names of famous leaders and began to describe qualities about them.

Who really cares about being a good leader anymore? All people today care about is success and money. In spite of his eccentricities, would people still perceive Steve Jobs to be a good leader if he has not made those brilliantly designed and highly successful products? Well, does success define a leader or does good leadership make success a by product? How can I restructure my DNA with certain leadership qualities which I was never born with? For example, if inherently I am not a person with a futuristic vision, then how can I develop that quality? All supposedly good leaders have a grand vision and pursue it. For a moment let’s assume my DNA can indeed be restructured, then I can create a manufacturing type program and roll off good leaders from an assembly line? If yes, then the outcome would be fantastic. But reality is starkly different. The fact is today we do not have many good leaders to look up to. Most often than not good leaders end up in a ‘hall of shame’. As these thoughts revolved around in my head, I knew I was about to embark on another quest. Maybe there are no definitive answers. Or maybe there just is….

In the subsequent weeks following my training program I hit the bookstores with a vengeance. I got my hands on every possible leadership book and set-up a mini library at home called “Leadership Journeyman” (named after the training program I attended). I also drew up a list of all the supposedly good leaders and management gurus and began to read their blogs. I also began watching interview videos of top leaders. I slept, ate, dreamt, drank and walked leadership in the ensuing weeks. I also began to mimic gestures of top leaders. I searched desperately for a black turtle neck shirt made famous by Jobs and even managed to order one (though am yet to receive it as apparently they are out of stock in many stores following the demise of Jobs). I read for long hours into the night, stared like a mad man into space and lost connect with daily life. What defines a good leader? How can one become a good leader? These two questions haunted me every second.

I began to rigorously practice certain qualities that all the knowledge acquired said a good leader must have. I listened actively to everyone and everything around me and displayed a high sense of empathy. I brought passion to everything I did, even to the simplest task of writing minutes of a meeting. I painted a grand vision of the future to all my colleagues, no matter how absurd they looked. I was transparent in everything I did, be at home or at work. I proactively took upon to do the most mundane of tasks. I practiced all the effective leadership methods and metrics described in the books religiously. The outcome – most things backfired. I became disconnected with my work and left most people bewildered with my actions. Most often than not I landed in trouble. I left my team confused and disgruntled. My productivity and creativity took a visible dip and my confidence hit an all time low. I was lost in a labyrinth with no way out. Then as they say, a spark is enough to light a fire.

“KG, thanks mate. I never thought I would make it. The discussion with you gave me renewed courage,” said one of my colleagues while having lunch. I had give him some advice about his career few months back. That single line however set the ball rolling.

If you look at the biography of any good or great leader, they have always managed to change things around from seemingly impossible situations. Yes, they have all displayed positive traits such as integrity, loyalty, determination, creativity, hard work et al. And yes, they have even displayed arrogance, anger, eccentricities et al. At times they have even doubted their own capabilities and wandered aimlessly. But, there is one quality that sets a good leader apart from rest of the pack. Good leaders INSPIRE! And that’s not an easy quality to be taught or which can be developed through rigorous practice. It requires a fundamental change in mindset. Inspiration comes from an never ending sense of faith. Faith that yes there is a better tomorrow; faith in my team to execute the task with highest of quality; faith that we can develop world class products or services; faith that our society can be a better place; just plain unquestionable faith. When that kind of faith system is built at the core then every other trait is reduced to a mere add-on. This is easier said than done cause as humans our natural tendency is the quite the opposite. We tend to bicker and banter about everything. Good leaders then transform this faith into hard headed action and are able to create an aura of ‘awe’ around them and inspire one and all.

I firmly believe that the quest for being a good leader will never end. Even if you are crowned as a good leader I don’t think the quest will ever end. You will as always be a Journeyman (or an apprentice).

(This writing is a tribute to Steve Jobs)

In Search Of Immortality

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 20:43:00 +0000

Over the last few weeks, I have been on a guilt trip. Partly due to my own conscience and partly due to the constant reminders from peers and friends around me. So today, against all odds and constraints I decided to write and hopefully in that process reduce the guilt brewing in my heart. But then deciding to write something and then actually penning a few words are completely opposite things. As I groped for the right words and ideas, just like someone trying to find the flashlight in the dark when the lights go out, an advise I got from many years ago rang in my head - “If you want to be a really good at something, keep searching. Travel the world, meet different people, and experience different things. Don’t be afraid. Never stop searching….”. At first I took the advise frivolously, but over the years as I matured I understood the depth of it. As when I did begin to search, it transformed my thinking and the world around me.

As I climbed the last few steps, I panted heavily due to lack of oxygen and my legs felt as if they weighed a ton each. The exhaustion from battling starvation, walking long miles over treacherous terrain and lack of sleep was seeping into every muscle of my body. My vision blurred and I was on the brink of giving it all up. Ahead of me I could see the steps snaking steeply into a large cave and a rush of devotees at the entrance. The constant ringing of the bell and loud chants of “Har Har Mahadev!” and “Bum Bum Bole” filled the air. I stopped to take a deep breadth and regain my composure. So close yet so far!

“You must be insane KG. People die out there and half of them never make it. Even if you make it, the suffering will be immense,” said my closest friend. I could feel a genuine concern in her voice.

“So be it,” I replied. “You can never achieve something if you are not ready to suffer for it. I want to go not because it’s a matter of faith or religion. It’s an adventure. Don’t know if I will succeed or fail but it will be an experience worth for life. I cannot miss out on that. And I can only do it when I still have strength left in my body.”

“God bless,” she said and slammed the phone down.

As my mind came back into the present - How will I ever make it back home? I thought to myself. I looked around trying to spot my companions but in an sea of people it was next to impossible. As my heart sank further the only possible way out was to somehow reach the base camp, which of course was eight hours of walk and 14 kms away. With the weather closing in I had no chance of making it. The only option I had was to try and complete the journey on which I had embarked 5 days ago and get a glimpse of Lord Amarnath. The rest I assured myself will take care of itself. I mustered the reserves of my energy and started to climb again.

My back hurts and I need to re-pack by bag. Its heavy on the left side. The first thing I am going to do when I get to the camp is have a shower and eat some hot food. Then I need to call people back home and let them know I made it. Am sure quite a few of them will be surprised. Maybe when I get to Srinagar, the hotel will hopefully have an internet connection and I can check my mails. Am sure there will lot of things open-ended in office. I also have to pay the mobile bill. Don’t know why people said the secret of immortality is here? People have gone through pain and suffering to get here. Including me! Did Shiva not have any other place on this planet to reveal the secret of immortality to his wife? What is the secret by the way? Maybe is blind faith. There…..

A firm hand held my shoulder and jerked me back into the present. It was one of the numerous soldiers guarding the entrance to the cave. “Please remove your shoes and keep you bag at the counter. You are only allowed barefoot inside the cave,” he said. When I removed the shoes and socks my legs froze.

“Chant Om Namah Shivaiy and go forward,” said another solider as I shivered.

The mind is our biggest enemy. If we could find a way to measure its speed, am sure it will be multiple times faster than light. But unlike light it never travels in a straight line. It’s like a child left alone in a toy shop running aimlessly from one place to another unsure about what to play with. If we pay close attention, our thoughts race from the past to the future and vice versa. We cannot hold it in the present for more than a few minutes. Even the conversations which we have with our friends and family, most often than not, is either centered around incidents that have occurred in the past or things that could happen in the future. The timeline of course vary from few minutes to days to many years. Even organizations for that matter. A majority spend endless hours debating about things that have gone wrong and even more time detailing plans for the future. Services and products are launched considering the future revenue growth they will generate. Very few organizations think about the present or ask the question - what are the needs of our customers today and what solutions can we offer them now? Everything is based on an abstract future and an unchangeable past. We fail to realize that future only causes fear and the past mostly pain and regret. I am not against planning for the future or about learning from out past. I am against spend vast amounts of time and energy on either. The present is where our life is. Our sufferings, happiness, pains, pleasures, actions et all unfolds in the present. The present is where our karma is. It’s against our inherent human nature to live in the moment. But if we manage to do it and give it our best then the future that will take care of itself and the past will magically vanish. It will make every second of our present life immortal.

As I climbed the final few steps and rang the bell at the entrance of the cave, my mind went blank. Neither the future or the past existed. It was just me in the moment. I bent my head and said Om Namah Shivaiy.

A Million Zuckerberg’s

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 16:10:00 +0000

During the last week I was asked two interesting questions about myself. The first one was, ‘In 10 words describe yourself’ and the second ‘What motivates you to do this job?’ On both the occasions my answers were very similar. For the first one I said, “Consultant by profession, entrepreneur by heart’ and for the second my answer was, “My present job role gives me the opportunity to be an entrepreneur and start something from scratch. So that’s motivation enough”.

The answers kept replaying in my head in the subsequent days and numerous questions came up – who is a true entrepreneur? What defines a true entrepreneur? And am I really a true entrepreneur? As I searched for answers to these intriguing questions…

“Am planning to come back Mr.G”

The statement caught me completely off guard. “Come on Eashwar. It’s been 25 years. Do you think you can adjust here now? Looks like the long flight, less sleep and Indian air has stirred a new sense of patriotism,” I said jokingly.

“No I am serious Mr.G. Have been thinking about this for some time now. I can see a lot of opportunities here now.”

“Oh now I get it. Now that India is the next big thing, you want to come back. Twenty five years ago you felt this place was a scrap yard and you left. And for you information, my dearest cousin, compared to the Silicon Valley we are still playing catch up. That said, there are a lot more opportunities today compared to 20 years ago.”

We rode in silence for the next few miles. “It’s about doing something you truly love Mr.G. I am planning to start something on my own and have a few ideas. You always wanted to be an entrepreneur,” said Eashwar breaking the silence.

“Is that a job offer?” I asked with smile. “Depends on the idea. However I must remind you, entrepreneurship is still a nascent concept in this country. It’s jazzy to say I want to be an entrepreneur. Rising angel or VC funding in India is still a challenge and banks don’t lend unless you are well connected. And unlike the West no crazy millionaire in India would part with his money to fund an unviable technology idea. Unless of course you want to put your pension fund at risk. So I suggest you think harder before you take the plunge,” I said.

“Agreed! The system has its own challenges. But entrepreneurship is all about perseverance and never ending hope,” said my cousin.

“Misplaced hope is the right word. The west has its legends from the 80’s and 90’s. And the success stories of these guys provide inspiration and hope for a lot of wannabes. They have paved way for thousands to follow. In India most of the so called entrepreneurs are either second or third generation and were born with a golden spoon. There is less than a handful who you can classified as true entrepreneurs. Secondly the social structure in this country does not consider entrepreneurship as a profession. You got to work in an IT company, or be a doctor or a lawyer to be respected,” I said

“You seemed to have lost the edge Mr.G. Looks like the corporate world has blunted your enthusiasm. The lure of fat salaries, plush offices and a better lifestyle have definitely reduced the risk appetite of people like you. No offense, but I think the present day opportunities in India maybe one of the top reasons for this. How many would refuse a plum campus job compared to going down a dark tunnel for many years without a light at the other end? ” said Eashwar.

I started to say something defensively but held back. Silence ensued for the next few miles.

“Well there is a new source of inspiration in India these days. The baba’s,” said Eashwar sarcastically with a smile and breaking the silence once again.

“Maybe you too can learn some yoga and churn your tummy every morning on television. Then lure some of your millionaire friends from the west, siphon off dollars from them, build a lavish ashram and pay no taxes. And once in a while you just need to create some ruckus and go on a fast to lose the flab gained. That sounds like a good business model? What say?”

Both of burst out laughing. I dropped Eashwar off and headed home.

A study by the National Knowledge Commission (NKC) defined an entrepreneurship pyramid in India in terms of sectors and number of people engaged. Level 4 (the base of the pyramid) consisting of agriculture and other activates was the largest category accounting for over 50%; Level 3- Trading services include wholesale and retail trade formed the second largest sector; Level 2- Old economy or traditional sectors such as manufacturing was the third largest and Level 1-emerging sectors such as IT/ITES, Healthcare, Insurance etc was the smallest at the top accounting for less than 10%. Of the over 50,000 new companies registered in 2007-2008 less than 5% were in the emerging sector. The report also indicated that 65% of the entrepreneurs self financed their start-ups and the average age of a first time entrepreneur was 35 years. Now let’s compare this to some of the statistics in the Silicon Valley from another research. Angel (seed) funding totaled over $20 billion in 2010 and over 61,000 entrepreneurial ventures got funded. Of these over 50% of the start-ups were in Healthcare, Software and IT and in total 370,000 new jobs were created. These numbers reflect a 20% drop in entrepreneurship activity levels due to recession. The average age of a first time entrepreneur was 25 years.

Now many more correlations from the data sets can be drawn and new analysis could be presented. But that’s not the point! The statistics are poles apart. Maybe it is true. Graduates coming out of colleges today prefer the fat paychecks compared to the ambiguity and risk of entrepreneurship. And people working in the industry never want to move out of their comfort zone. Fear of failure I believe is our biggest challenge and as a society we need to mature to be able to handle it. Surprisingly over 80% of the start-ups in Silicon Valley fail and entrepreneurs usually start the next venture in less than 6 months. The cultural set-up is such that failure is accepted, glorified and is looked upon as experience gained. Contrastingly in India, failure is treated as a disease and a slight fall brings out the wrath of family and friends. Failures are shunned and cast away into oblivion. The second challenge for us is thinking big. We are somehow are content with our salaries, cars, EMI apartments and fancy cell phones. The immediate aspiration for us is our manager’s job. Same holds true even for a fresh graduate right out of college. We never aspire for big things or strive to get there.

Now when these two challenges intertwine entrepreneurship take a nose dive and even a distant thought of doing something on our own is nipped. A true entrepreneur has two classic qualities – never fears failure and always thinks big. Unless we don’t imbibe these two qualities in us we can never impart it to the next generation. Today we all dream and discuss of India becoming the next economic powerhouse in the coming decade. To get there entrepreneurship is going to be the linchpin of our success.

To top it all, “It’s about doing something you truly love Mr.G”

Bells And Pyre

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 13:32:00 +0000

About 3 months ago….

“You win some and you lose some KG. That’s the way it is.”

“ Come on Gauri, don’t get philosophical on me. Philosophy fills the void left by science. As humans we cannot accept the fact that sometimes there are no answers. At best our mind is analytical and our heart confused. So philosophy falls right into the slot. Some loses are just not fair,” I said.

“ Forget it. You remember how we first met?” asked Gauri with a smile.

“Well during the conference last year. The finance track moderator tanked at the last minute and you approached me. Before I could say yes or no, you forced a script into my hands, turned around and took flight.”

Gauri burst out laughing. “That’s not what happened. You make it look so dramatic. Before I approached you I asked Anil if there was anyone in his team who could speak well, was energetic, oozed confidence and could handle a crowd. He pointed at you. And when I approached you I did explain the agenda, your role, etc”

“ None of that description fits me. Maybe you got the wrong person. All you did was shove a script in my hand, turn back and flee. After that I ran around like a frightened chicken asking everyone what to do. Finally when I did figure it out, I was late for the session by 15 minutes and had to profusely apologize to the participants in the hall. I stammered with the opening lines, sweat poured down the sides of my face and was blinded by the lights. I looked so dumb on stage thanks to you.”

“But the best part is you managed it so well KG.I am proud of you. I got some good reviews about your track from participants. I did peep into your session for a few minutes and you looked completely comfortable. I also heard you exchanged numbers with a few good looking women,” said Guri. She nudged me with her elbow.

“ Don’t chide me. I just wanted to strangle you after the session but you disappeared. The next day you called and invited me for dinner. I came with a plan to blow my top but your smile saved the day for you,” I said.

With that I got up to leave. “ All the best for your trip Gauri. Have fun and do send me some pictures when you return. And please return my camping bag in good condition.”

“Will take care of it like my baby. And KG…” she hesitated.

“ Yes Gauri.”

“You have been a terrific friend. Thanks for sticking by me.”

“Cool. See you when I see you,” I said. With that I turned and left Gauri standing in the balcony.

About 2 weekends ago..

My phone was constantly ringing since morning and with every call I was closer to the point of breaching the irritation level. My best friend was getting married and the ‘To Do” list seemed never ending. As I pulled the car out of the garage the phone rang for a zillionth time. At first I ignored the call. The phone buzzed again.

“Bro, am on my way. Will be there in 30,” I barked into the phone and was about to cut the call.

“KG I got some news. Hold on,” said the voice.

As the voice at the other end started speaking, my heart sank. I ended the call without uttering a single word. It seemed impossible. How could this happen? It was not meant to end this way. As I sat it the car the realization hit me. I knew all along that inevitability would strike. It was just a matter of time.

I quickly hit the dial button. “Anil, I coming to the hospital. I cannot go for the wedding. I need to see her,” I said.

“ Bro the situation is not right here. There are some family issues as well.”

“But then this happened so quickly. I called her last week. She did not answer my calls. I should have realized thi…..” my voice shivered and a lump formed in my throat.

“Gauri wanted it this way KG. Only her parents and roommate were with her when the end came “ said Anil. “ You need to be at the wedding. People are expecting you and your closest to Somu. Please don’t tell this news to him or anyone. It will just stir the pot and things may go haywire.”

“I cannot do this. It’s impossible to look calm and appear as if everything is normal. Wait for me there,” I said. I quickly cut and call and raced to the hospital. The wailing and commotion as I got off the elevator was palpable. A hand tugged at my shirt and I was pulled into the corner.

“Her end came fast. The cancer spread to her kidneys and she went into a cardiac arrest during dialysis. We all knew this was going to happen KG. And yet we are unprepared when it happens. That’s the irony,” said Anil.

I was dumfounded for the next hour. Finally after much persuasion I decided to go for the wedding. As I put on a plastic smile and made conversations my heart melted. Flashes of Gauri, our never ending conversations, her delicious food and undying spirit faded in and out of my mind. After an hour I found some excuses and left the wedding hall filled with remorse.

Challenge is probably an understated synonym of life. And when its threaded with unpredictability the compounding result is most often than not overwhelming. Some (if not most) challenging situations in life are beyond reason. The losses cannot be explained. The gains are however accepted with open arms with no questions asked. In life we encounter numerous situations, be it in personal of professional space, that completely throws us off balance. No matter how much we train our minds to cushion the impact, the severe jolt from such situations leaves a lasting impression for eternity. Few of us recover quick while others struggle for long periods to find the lost balance. In the end with time normalcy does limber back into our lives driven by the undying human spirit to surge ahead. Every time we encounter such a situation the process starts all over again. And every time the same questions swirl in our head – why me? What went wrong? Is this fair? etc . The answers however to all questions are also the same – silence. Maybe there are no answers or maybe it is beyond the realms of the ordinary man to comprehend even if it is provided. In the end, the only explanation that I have come up with is…. That’s life!

We bid adieu to Gauri form this world but not from our memories.

The Warriors Of Emerald City: Part I - Touchdown

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 12:35:00 +0000

April 23^rd 2001, the date will be etched in my memory forever. That day my life changed. I had no prescience how my life was going to shape up in the following years, but as the plane touched down at Bangalore International Airport my tummy churned. I had a heavy feeling in my heart and wished I was not here. I was going to miss the summers of Oxford. When the snow melted and white turned to green a sense of joy flooded into the lives of people. Flowers would begin to bloom in the backyard and the air always smelled sweet. After the long harsh dull winter the sun’s warm rays made everything around us glitter. Well I was already missing the barbeque's and the endless games of football followed by ice cream. I missed my friends. I missed everything about England.

As the plane taxied to a halt I looked at mom and dad sitting on either side of me. Both of them had a smile on their face. They seemed as excited as a newlywed couple.

“ Mom when will be go back to England?” I asked. I had tormented her during the nine hour flight with questions about making the journey and she was visibility irritated by now.

“Maybe in a year or two Daniel. Maybe even Grandpa and grandma can visit us next year. Am sure you are going to enjoy here darling” she said.

Well I doubt that, I told myself. I somehow had an uneasy feeling about being here. Life is always unfair to a ten year old. Decisions were just thrust upon us and we had to obey like slaves. We had no choices. I sometimes felt like the house-elf from Harry Potter novels. As we waited for the baggage to arrive, I so wished our suitcases would to be lost. I also wished my dad would hate his job here. Mom to get a terrible flu. No school to accept me. But then, wishes of children are never granted and we have to make do with what we get in our lives. I have to wait another eight more years to be considered an adult. Then I could have my own apartment, choose my own clothes, have a girlfriend and make my own life. Till then I guess my choice is limited to tagging along.

As we stepped out of the airport, I felt the heat tearing into my skin. The decibel levels raised and there were swarms of people waiting near the exit. The stench made me nauseous and the world around me began to spin.

“ Are you all right Daniel? Is it too hot? Maybe you should take off your jacket. You will not need it here,’ my dad said pointing to the jacket. I removed my jacket and tied it around my waist. We got into a waiting taxi which looked worse than grandpa’s old Rover. As the taxi moved the doors rattled and with every gear shift there was a shudder. The seats were brown in color and I was not sure if it was due to dirt or if it was the original color of the seats.

“It will take about 30 minutes to reach your apartment sir,” said the driver to my dad. My dad merely nodded in response.

As we rolled down narrow roads, the ride got bumpier. Big red and white buses spewed out black smoke and they resembled a monster. I had never seen so many cars and motorbikes in my life. There were also numerous 3-wheeled yellow and white buggy shaped vehicles that squeezed between vehicles. They emitted a funny sound and drew the ire of our taxi driver. He constantly spat abuses in his native language and as he did so the spit from his mouth flew out in all directions. The city appeared overloaded with people and I counted up to 5 people on a scooter. We stopped at numerous signals and the moment the light turned red people jumped from all directions in front of vehicles. At the first signal a boy about my age wearing torn clothes knocked at the window and put his hand forward. He stared at me for a minute and then quietly moved on. I could see some people giving him coins while others shooed him away. He did not seem to mind and just went about his business. At first I was confused but then it struck me. He was a beggar! I saw more of them at traffic signals – men limping, women carrying children, disabled and limbless people.

“Mom, why are these people begging?” I asked.

“ They don’t have enough money Dan. They cannot go to work and are homeless.”

“Well I thought India was a big country and there is place for all,” I said.

“There is place for all. It is just that not all people have money. So it is up to us to help the needy,” said mom.

Before I could say something the taxi got off the main road and entered a narrow lane leading to a twin tower building standing at the end of it. The last time I had seen a twin tower was on a school trip to London. As we approached a big red gate we were stopped by a guard. He wore blue colored pants and shirts, had a big moustache and a whistle dangling from his shirt. He peered inside the taxi and exchanged a few words with the driver. As he let us pass he gave a grand salute. I had only seen guards at the Buckingham palace do that and couldn’t help but chuckle. We went around a fountain which had the words “Welcome To Emerald City” below it.

To be continued..

The Colors of A ‘True’ Indian

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 13:23:00 +0000

Blue is the color of the season. With cricket gripping the country tightly in its clutches, young and old alike are glued to television sets and praying for their heroes to emerge victorious. However, I must confess that I am not an ardent fan of cricket. I still fail to understand how two teams after toiling for five long days to outwit each other could shake hands and call it a ‘draw’. Though the game has evolved over the last decade to attract new segments of viewers and move beyond its conventional realms, people like me have not become a convert. In school, I had three games to choose from: football, field hockey and basket ball. I chose football for the simple fact that that the rules were uncomplicated, did not have to invest in expensive gear and could settle my personal scores with classmates the legal way. As I grew up football became my passion and cricket the distant cousin.

When the cricket World Cup got underway last week and with India beginning their hopeful campaign of winning it, the television set at home has been tuned to only one channel 24/7. I have had to literally fight for my right to view my favorite channels. In the end I have managed to get control of the remote not for the valor exhibited but more due to sympathy. In addition the constant ranting of statistics, team strategies and opinions has added salt to the wound. Needless to say the women have had a tougher time and I am sure the TRP ratings of those never ending over dramatized soaps have plummeted. I have also been branded as not being a ‘true’ Indian for not following the game or even trying to understand it. Well that said I have so far managed to hold my ground in whatever little way possible.

Cricket though not being our national sport and having its roots in English history runs in the veins of every Indian. Our forefathers acquired taste for the game during pre Independence era and subsequent generations have embraced it zealously. Surprisingly today the biggest revenue markets for the game are the countries in the sub-continent. Cricket is also the second most popular sport, in terms of viewership, in the world behind football. So yes, the game does unite us and adds to the color of being an Indian. But that said, India is a pluralistic society and other vibrant colors also define who we really are.

Blue – Blue often represents the human emotion of sadness. ‘Monday Blues’ is something we are all well aware off. However in the Indian context Blue signifies happiness and optimism. Most logos of Indian companies would have a touch of a blue in them. Be it any sport, Indian sportsperson turn up in blue and likewise the spectators. The color is synonymous with cricket in the country. However in recent times the Indian blue has been flying high in sports such as tennis, badminton, Formula 1, hockey and athletics. More often than not our prime ministers Pagri is also blue. The color signifies the spirit of India in all its forms.

Saffron – In recent years the color and its band of followers have sent shivers down our spine. Saffron for people in ‘modern’ India is ironic to its mystic roots that symbolized India decades ago. Even the thought of saffron rekindles a sense of hatred and fear and the color metamorphosis itself into red in our minds. Answers to why and how this transformation occurred have been delved into before but have remained unanswered. The common man in India will never understand the layers of complexity weaved by politics, greed, religion and power that the color hides beneath its surface. At the most we can only look at the scars it has left in our lives and hope that the next generation is never lured by Saffron and its predicament.

White – the color symbolizes purity and selflessness. For us though the color is fused with the netas whom we have rightfully (and in most cases wrongly) elected to represent us. Am not sure who they end up representing, but most definitely it is not the people by whom they were elected. The attire they wear is white but it in no way represents their actions or words. Far from being role models to the next generation their every act beings a sense of ‘déjà vu’. We have somehow become immune to the viral ways of our netas and therein lies the impending downfall of our society. Statistics indicate that that less than 40% of the urban population in India vote during elections. As literates are we not responsible for the health of the political system? Well, if we want change to happen then we need to be ‘change agents’ ourselves.

Green – Agriculture accounts for about 18% of India’s GDP and employs over 60% of the population. Contrarily the famed IT industry accounts for about 5% of the GDP and employs less than 1% of the population. And yet we glorify the crumbs and conveniently forget the larger share. We are still an agrarian society and globalization is a non-existent term for over third the population that is tethered by poverty. Green is also the color of money. Money that finds its path through crevices in every public office in the form of bribes; money that is plucked from the hands of deserved and used to fuel the greed of the rich; money that every child deserves for education but never gets; public money that every politician/bureaucrat splash on their whims; money that a family in doldrums of poverty strive for to have one square meal a day; money that creates a vast divide between the haves and have not’s in our country is represented by green.

In spite of the various colors that unite and divide us equally, we march on with great aspirations and hope. The color of a true Indian cannot be signified by just one shade. It’s the unique combination of different colors that makes us who we truly are.

Predictable Futures

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 15:48:00 +0000

One of the many fallacies of being a researcher/consultant by profession is trying to have a ‘point of view’ about the future. The most dreaded questions I hate to confront are – how do you think the market will grow in the next few years? What challenges do you foresee? What trends will shape the future? Every time any of these questions are asked, heads turn towards me and ‘pearls of wisdom’ are expected to fall out of my mouth. The first obvious answer that strikes my head is, “How would I know what the future is going to be?” Even the most credible futurists- Leonardo Da Vinci, Herman Khan, Arthur C. Clarke et all – have fallen well short on their prophecies. At best futurists have managed to paint an abstract vision of the future and in majority of the predictions it’s more of a desirable state to be in. That said, with my job in jeopardy, I have so far managed to dole out some ‘pearls’.

Most often as humans, our focus is more on ‘tomorrow’. Deep inside all the decisions and assumptions we make at individual/ family/ business levels are all targeted at tomorrow. And to make sure our future shapes up in a certain way we want, help is sought in the from astrology, charms, amulets, rings, special prayers etc etc. It’s even cross cultural! Chinese practices have found way into our lives with a promise of a providing a better future. Well that’s not bad at all, but most often than not it takes the ‘charm’ out of living in the present.

Here is why…

Incident #1: “The Lord lives in your toilet…”

About 5 months back, my best friend Anil and his wife Smitha had a double treat. They had recently bought an apartment and their first child was expected to arrive soon. In line with the Indian tradition Anil planned for a house warming ceremony and invited friends and relatives. With the ceremony done away with, Anil excitedly took me and few other friends on a grand tour of the house. As he was explaining to us about his plans for setting up the children’s room, a gruff voice from behind said, “Anil, the vaastu of you house is not proper.” We quickly turned around and there was a middle aged man in a white shirt and dhoti standing behind us. His look indicated that the situation was quite serious.

“The toilet in the master bedroom should not be in the place it is now. That’s the Kubera (lord of wealth) moola. You need to shift the toilet to where the cupboards are and vice-versa. At the moment the toilet is where the lord resides.” he said shaking his head.

“But uncle, the apartment is designed in a predefined way and it will be difficult to make changes.” said Anil.

“According to Vastu Shastra the entrance to your kitchen should also be from the east. It’s currently from the South. If you want to have a better life and prosper you need to make the changes. Vaastu is a science and it has existed for over 1000 years. Think about it, Smitha is soon going to have a child as well. I only wish the best for the both of you,” saying this he quickly turned and walked away.

Anil had a confused look on his face and as for me I was totally stumped by his words. Well when it comes to family and emotions logic flies out of the window. Anil could not deny the advice from his uncle as he was also Smitha’s foster father. So as it turned out, the next few days Anil and I did the rounds of architect offices. We also had to go through the painful process of getting permission from the building society and neighbors. Finally with the permissions in place and a new design in hand we set to calculate the cost. It turned out that Anil needed Rs. 6 lacs to modify his house. With an existing loan on the house and a baby on the way the extra burden seemed difficult to carry for Anil.

One evening as we sat smoking in the balcony I asked Anil, “Do you really need to make those changes?”

“Do I have a choice KG. I only wish for a better future for Smitha, me and our child. What if something goes wrong tomorrow? Who is to blame?” The strain in his voice said it all.

“Think about it, the extra money you need should not pressurize your daily life. It could end up with you slogging overtime to make the money and in the process losing the happiness of being with your family. The God resides in our heart not in the toilet. Be practical bro. Things will turn out well.” I said. It seemed the best possible advice I could give to Anil considering his situation.

Incident #2: 10 rings to rule us all

I had a research assignment to deliver by the end of the day when my phone buzzed. The name “Mahesh-Chennai Cousin” flashed on my phone. I did not want another interruption to my work so I quickly hit the ‘ignore’ button. After five minutes the phone buzzed again. Irritated I picked the call.

“Karthik, how are you?” asked a familiar voice at the other end.

“Good Mahesh. Is this urgent? I am in the middle of something important.” I said hoping to disconnect the call soon.

“Yes. I am coming to Bangalore for an interview tomorrow. The office is in electronic city…...” Mahesh said.

I knew what was coming next. So I quickly cut in,” You can come home and stay if you want. But I might not be able to pick you from the station. Take a rickshaw. You can take a cab from home to the office. Sorry I have to rush. See you.” With this I disconnected the call. As an afterthought probably my behavior was rude, but then if you grow up with forty-three cousin’s life gets a little hectic playing the good host.

Well Mahesh did land up in my house the next morning. The best quality that I like about his personality is his positive outlook. I have never seen him sulk about anything. Even in the toughest of situations he manages to see the bright side. As we sat sipping coffee I couldn’t help notice the rings on his fingers. I counted eight and they were in various shapes and sizes. The last time I had seen him was at his wedding two years ago, and I vividly remembered the rings not being there.

“The prices have gold and silver have soared in the last few years. Somehow for you it’s always within reach” I said sarcastically pointing at his fingers.

“Oh no Karthik. I have the bad look of Shani (one the nine primary celestial beings in Hindu astrology) from the last two years. Guru (another celestial being) is also not in the right position. It ‘s in the 7^th house now. Hence I am going through a bad patch in life. It’s a period of struggle for me. So these rings give me mental peace, reduces the ill effects and will help me overcome my problems” said Mahesh.

“So do you think wearing these rings will make your present or future better?” I enquired.

“Of course. You see the white stone in my index finger makes my mind calm, the yellow saffire helps me overcome the ill effects of Guru, the red pearl will help me get a better job and the white stone here will give me more money” said Mahesh pointing to the various rings. “ I visited a famous astrologer Swami Durai Sarvanan and he looked at my horoscope and predicted that in 6 months time I will go to the US. He also said I would be blessed with a boy child within a year and my financial situation would improve. In two years I will buy a house and my status will go up” he added.

Well his logic defied me and I couldn’t help but say, “ Come one Mahesh. Please don’t be silly. How can these rings give you a better future or help you overcome your current problems? It’s impossible to predict the future. If you work hard and strive to excel in what you do, things will change for the better.”

“Well you can accelerate the good things that happen to you by understanding the celestial beings better. If you can appease them with prayers and pooja’s they will do good for you. Believe me Karthik things are better today than they were 3 months ago with me. Take astrology seriously, it’s a perfect science. Swami Durai can predict the future with 100% accuracy. I will take you there and within six months you will become the manager of your company. Trust me it works” said Mahesh.

My patience had reached its limit and I fought to keep my temper under control. “Mahesh, please do not be misled by superstitions. Your life is in your hands. It’s good to hope for a better tomorrow and have faith. But things like this should not clutter your mind and take away your self-belief. I always admired your positive outlook, somehow its lost now” I said.

Before my adversary could respond I got up and walked away. I called a cab to take Mahesh for the interview and left for office.

I am not against dreaming big or setting goals and hoping for a better future. In pursuit of a better future we surrender ourselves to superficial and meaningless practices that completely changes our present lives. We single mindedly begin to believe that such practices will yield the results that we so desperately seek. This is also intertwined with our fear for failure. Somehow the very thought of failure pushes us to the brink of taking radical steps. Compromises are also made with our values and ethics. We fail to realize that to achieve our dreams failure is an integral part. The learning we get from our failures will become the fuel to achieve the future we dream. However the future, as always will remain unpredictable.

Epilogue

Anil did not make the vaastu changes that his uncle suggested. But he has stopped using the toilet in which Lord Kubera lives. Smitha gave birth to a beautiful girl child a month ago.

Mahesh was rejected in the first round of interview and went back to Chennai depressed. He is planning to go to Dubai now.

The Heroes of Tomorrow

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 15:41:00 +0000

We men should accept an important fact. In the last decade the role of women in our society has emerged from within the confines of the household to contributing in all walks of life. And I am not talking of just urban women. Microfinance owes its success to rural women entrepreneurs not only in India but across the world. The last decade has produced more women sportswomen in India than ever before. Indian women are performing better than their male counterparts in fields such as boxing, athletics, badminton etc. Even bollywood films which has long been banking on the ‘Superstar’ status of male heroes for box office success, is undergoing change. Today leading ladies are beginning to command an equal share of role and payments compared to male heroes.

So we too as boyfriends, husbands and partners in our own way are making the necessary adjustments to promote our leading ladies. As it turned out to be, it was the ‘women’s day out’ last weekend. The ‘boys’ were left to do the household chores, run the errands and babysit. I decided to help my friend babysit his five year old son. It was fun to start with, but as minutes turned into hours our patience was tested to the hilt. The mindless non-stop banter of cartoon channels and the barrage of questions which we had to answer was needless to say just plain torture. As our enthusiasm ebbed and desperation levels increased a question was thrown open to the both of us, “What do you mean by a hero?” My friend, who looked completely defeated by now replied, “Oh it’s like Spiderman, Superman, Chota Bheem”. The kid came back with the next question, “Dad, are you a hero?” Though my friend was momentarily taken aback by the question, he did his best to defend his father image and to portray himself as the ‘next big thing’.

Though the questions were asked with a lot of innocence, they have a deeper essence. What do we really mean by a hero? Who is a hero to us? A dictionary check revels the following – one who is admired for his achievements and noble qualities; one who shows great courage; an object of extreme admiration. It simple words it translates into someone who is a role model for us. We draw inspiration from our heroes time and again and try to emulate them. When were kids, mythological and cartoon character were our heroes; in our teens it was our teachers and rock stars; and when we went to university and got more mature and began to understand the world a little better our heroes too evolved. Every generation has its own heroes and fortunately for us we can point to many. But then who will be the ‘heroes’ for our kids?

Looking around I do not see many. The next generation will never connect with our heroes. Let’s be honest. How many of us can really connect to say the concept of Gandhism? Our history lessons have taught us well and we do accept and acknowledge the sacrifices Gandhi made for the country. When his concepts are so difficult to practice even for us in daily lives, for the next generation it will be nothing less than a utopia. The relevance of Gandhi and Gandhism is quickly diminishing in a ‘modern India’ where Mark Zuckerberg is probably more identifiable. Politicians as role models are something that is not even worth a mention. With the number of corporate scandals occurring by the second the concept of entrepreneurs and business leaders as worthwhile role models is becoming laughable. Same goes for sportsmen whose achievements are getting tainted by drug abuses and off the field scandals. Where do we then look for the next set of emerging heroes?

Probably the answer lies in the question, “Dad, are you a hero?” Though my friend tried to portray himself as one, in reality probably he is. In fact we all are in our own ways! We have breakfast with corruption scandals and inflation, lunch with bomb scares and have dinner with murder stories. The uncertainty that we face today has probably never existed in the entire history of mankind. I am not trying to paint the picture of ‘big bad world’ but as common men these are the facts of our everyday lives. Yet we somehow live through them, get to work, make our money, keep our family happy and continue with our daily lives. We live in constant optimism and hope. At our own level we try and create a better society. We show courage in adversity and our will to survive is next to none. Is this not the stuff of heroes? Every hero fights through adversity, exhibits exemplary character and makes the society a happy and safe place. Are we not trying to do the same thing? The next generation will not have just a handful of heroes but 1.2 billion people to look up too! Each one of us is the next breed of super hero. The faster we begin to believe that the better path we can show the next gen.

“Dad, can you fly like Superman and punch a dragon like Chota Bheem?” As I heard that question I couldn’t help but start laughing

Heights of Faith

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 15:46:00 +0000

After many weeks today I finally managed to find some inspiration to ramble again. Somehow words eluded me every time I sat down to write. Either the sentences were garbled, the thoughts didn’t flow or the idea itself appeared wrong. “Have faith” was the common advice I received from friends and peers alike. As days and weeks passed by I got restless and began to feel probably I didn’t have it in me anymore. In a writers parlance it’s called the “Writers Block”. It’s the most dreaded period in any amateur or professional writer’s life. It’s like trying to squeeze the ketchup out of the bottle. The more you hammer the bottle the more resilient the ketchup becomes. I began to feel a void within as blank pages stared at me after trying to write for hours at an end. I started searching for that one spark to ignite it all, the ketchup to finally fall from the bottle. And then it happened….

The ride from Kandy, a city that brings out the vibrant spirit of Sri Lanka, to Adams Peak is not something I would recommend to anyone. The 6 hour journey by road takes you through some of the most beautiful tea estates in the world, through high range mountains, deep valleys and across rivers. The constant twists and turns coupled with narrow roads and unpredictable rains will give anyone even in the best of physical health a run to the restroom. Trying to catch some sleep was next to impossible. Finally as we turned round a mountain, my guide pointed it out to me.

“There it is Mr. Karthik, Adams Peak, 3456 meters from the sea, the second tallest mountain in Sri Lanka”, giving the details in one breath.

“Do you have faith?” he enquired.

“On what Mr.Karnal? “, I asked.

“Generally God, religion, anything in particular…” he asked pointing to the top.

I just smiled. Well, how could I reveal I had lost faith on something that I loved to do most.

“It’s said that every man who tries the climb the peak more than once is crazy, and every man who does not climb it even once is also crazy” Mr.Karnal said. I smiled again. I am probably as crazy as they come, I thought to myself.

As we neared Del house, a small town at the base of the peak, the gates above us opened. The town wears a sleepy look for 10 months in a year and its residents number less than twenty-five. It’s during the Hope season, mid December to January end, that the town comes alive as thousands of devotees throng to Adams Peak to visit the temple at the top. The temple supposedly houses a footprint from over many centuries ago. It is claimed by Buddhists to belong to Buddha. However, counter claims exist - Hindus believe it’s the footprint of Lord Shiva and Muslims claim it to be of Adam. How and when these people visited this peak is yet to be proven. That said, come Hope Season devotees undertake the hardened climb to get a glimpse of the footprint. Faith has its mysterious ways of working on people! I was neither here to test any faith nor to prove any theories. I was here for the adventure. The sunrise from the top of the peak was acknowledged to be the best in the world by many tourists.

“You need to have faith Mr.Karthik else you cannot get to the top”, stated Karnal as I was filling up the guestbook in a dingy hotel.

“Am searching for it Mr.Karnal”, I replied. He nodded his head. I desperately needed some sleep from the tiring journey and we quickly split deciding to meet at 2.00 am in the porch.

As the alarm annoyingly buzzed I shut it out. As I got out of the blanket the chill hit me like a thunderbolt. I had second thoughts, but the sense of adventure was far more exciting. I met Karnal on the porch and we headed out. It was pitch dark and we used our flashlights to point the way. We walked down a narrow path, crossed a river and came by the statue of a sleeping Buddha.

“You are on your own from here Mr.Karthik,” Karnal said.” You might find a few climbers on your way. It will get difficult as you near the top. The mountain will get bigger on you. Don’t lose faith. Keep going” he added.

I was irritated at this point about constant reference to faith, but refrained from saying anything. I quickly turned and followed the path.

As the path got steeper, the terrain got tougher and was slippery due to rains. All I could think of was leeches, snakes, wild animals, falling down, breaking my foot, flash light going out and being left stranded. Every few minutes I started to check my watch. The distance from the town at the bottom to the top was about 15kms and took 4 hours. That was the standard. However, hotel staff did warn me that due to rains the conditions had got worse and the previous day a tree had fallen on a Norwegian couple. After an hour and half of walking, crawling and scrambling I was exhausted. I didn’t know if I was going in the right direction and my supply of water was quickly dwindling. I began to curse myself. Probably my ego had gotten in the way. Maybe my sense of adventure had got the better of me. Maybe I was not prepared for this. Maybe I should just sit somewhere and wait for daylight…May be…may be…As a plethora of thoughts swirled in my head the strength in my legs ebbed. Fog enveloped me and visibility was reduced to just arms length. To add to my misery, the mud path I was following gave way to broken steps which snaked into the thick undergrowth. As the gradient increased, the air began to thin out and to climb each step I needed to summon all my inner will. I began to feel dizzy and my courage began to melt.

When I first saw it I thought it was in my head. After a few more steps I cloud see it again. A light in the distance! Energy flooded my legs and a sense of hope flickered. At least now I was not alone. As I neared the light the jungle gave way to a clearing and I could see men in green overalls sleeping along the path. It was a makeshift army barrack!

“You alone?” a voice bolted from the dark.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to my right. I could vaguely make out the figure of a man.

“Yes. I am trying to climb the peak. Am I lost?” I enquired.

“No. You are on the right path. You want tea?” asked the soldier.

“Yes. And also water. I am out.” I replied.

As we neared the light I cloud make out the man’s face. He was clean shaved, medium built and wore the olive green army shirt and pants. His name tag read Suniel de Silva.

As we entered the barrack, he ordered tea to be brought and offered me a chair to sit.

“Are you from India?” he asked.

“Yes” I replied.

“I am the captain here. We are repairing the steps. I have been to India twice. Chennai and Kanya Kumari,” he said enthusiastically.

Hot tea came quickly and as I sipped it I cloud feel the blood gushing in my veins.

“You are courageous. You are almost near. Maybe an hour”, he said. I nodded with relief. After about 10 minutes in silence I got up to leave and thanked him.

As we shook hands he smiled and said, “Don’t lose faith.” He gave me a ball of thread and said it was customary for first time climbers to tie the thread between two poles at a particular spot as we neared the top. According to legend Buddha had torn his tunic at this very spot and as an offering a devotee tied the thread between two poles. He also said I should not forget to ring the bell. I promised I would and with a renewed sense of courage continued by journey.

As I began to climb the steps again, a question flashed in my head. What is faith? It is something we believe in whether proven or not. Period! A belief which gives us the courage to overcome obstacles, achieve the impossible, take risks and the confidence to face adversity. In its purest form faith its nothing but a sense of self belief! An inner light that guides us in places of darkness. Man somehow has manifested this faith into religion. And then man using the manifest created divide. A divide that fills us with arrogance and hatred. We then seek the support from materialism – money, power, et all to further the cause of our misplaced faith. Why else would we fight for 60 years over a piece of land over a matter of faith? Here I am trying to climb a peak that for devotees sprouts from multiple faiths. Yet it all leads to one thing. ‘A footprint’ no one knows how and why it came to be. We fail to understand that every holy book in its truest sense points to just a path of self discovery. Like the footprint all holy writings lead to just one and the same thing.

I tied the thread given by the soldier between the poles and ascended my last steps towards the temple. As I removed my shoes and entered the temple premise I saw an old lady reaching for the chord of the bell. She rang the bell eight times. As the sun rose what I witnessed was sheer brilliance. It’s indescribable in words. As the rays of the sun touched upon me I felt its warmth and with it my inner sense of self belief rising

May he live in interesting times..

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 05:34:00 +0000

This is an old Chinese curse and is used even today. It is used when a Chinese does not want to see someone happy. The person who administers the curse hopes that the other person’s life may be surrounded by worries and obstacles. Ironically, the curse could also turn into a blessing and living in ‘interesting times’ could lead to exciting opportunities and experiences.

I was about five years old, and our household was rattled awake by its ringing – yes, it was the telephone. Our household was the first to get a telephone connection in our locality. My dad managed to pull a few strings with someone in the department and we skipped ahead of the queue when connections were authorized. Just like any typical Indian household procedure of welcoming new things into our life, the telephone was received with great pomp and show. Vermilion powder and scented flowers were sprinkled on it and it was placed at the right angle and position in the living room to ward off evil spirits. Relatives and friends near and far were informed of its arrival and it became the centerpiece of attraction. My sister and I underwent detailed training on phone etiquettes and we waited eagerly for the ‘ringing’ tone every day. And when the phone did ring, our entire family would dash to answer the call no matter what state we were in or which important job we were doing. I can bet my hands down that then record holding sprinter Carl Lewis would have come up short beating my grand-dad to the phone. Such was the captivating force of the telephone.

More than two decades have passed, and today that same telephone which caused brought so much excitement into my family lies ignored in a corner. All my family members flash latest mobile phones and whether we need it or not it is part of our lives. My grand-dad waited an entire life time for a telephone to arrive in his house, my dad half a life-time and me 5 years. In less than half my lifetime- mobile phones, smart phones, pocket pc’s, laptops et al have shifted through my hands. Technological development has made Moore’s law look ordinary.

I strongly believe people of my age (give or take a few years) live at the cusp of two generations. We are neither old timers nor are we ‘gen x’. We have seen the best and worst of the generation gone by and at the same time witnessed the amazing changes in the next generation. Our children will never know the excitement of using a telephone or the pleasure of watching nationalized programs in a black and white television with the whole family. Nor will they be able to understand the raw passion of the angry young man portrayed by Amitab Bachan or appreciate the tunes of Kishore Da, Rafi sahib, AR Rehman and others. The future that will unfold for the next generation is beyond our wildest imagination.

We are living through a time frame when technological advancement has revolutionized our daily life and economic development has gifted us tremendous opportunities. And, we have seen severely bruised by the dark side as well- economic downturns, terrorism, oil wars, natural disasters, corruption etc. So what has been that one key ingredient that we have got that has made us turn every corner, adapt to changes, take that giant leap of faith and given us hope in testing times? It’s our value system acquired through ‘word of mouth’ teaching from the generation gone by. That value system has been the driving force of almost every decision we have taken in our lives so far. It holds us firmly to our roots. Gone as the days when the world used to view us as the ‘land of snake charmers’ and spices. Today we are centric to world development. And it is our values which will give us the true identity of being an ‘Indian’ in the modern world. Let us not get mesmerized by the changes around us. It’s our fundamental duty us to pass on our value system to the next generation. Make sure it’s not lost forever. Rest as they say will be history.

There is a teacher in each one of us...

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 05:34:00 +0000

“Those were the days”. This statement am sure crosses our mind every time we meet our old buddies or when we think about numerous precious moments from our erstwhile life in school and college. The thought of childhood and teen days brings back a flurry of memories and a smile instantly appears on our faces. Even today, we still crave for the enthusiasm and innocence that used to envelope us and somehow magically protect us from the horrors of the world. Everything seemed fair and simple and laughter was the only sound. Of course, there were the 'not so great' moments as well, but then they were quickly healed and life just surged ahead.

Apart from friends the people we remember most are our teachers. Among all those who walked into our classrooms, there were one or two who became entrenched in our memories for ever. They appeared ordinary and dressed like everyone else, but when they began to take our lessons we would be teleported to an entirely different universe. Their teaching methods were unconventional and used to challenge our thinking. We loved them the most, were prepared to do anything for them and always looked forward to their classes.

There were two such fantastic teachers in my life and I consider myself lucky to have learnt from them at critical junctures in my life. The first was Ms. Maithili. She introduced me to computers and programming when I was in high school. Her teaching methods were out of the norm-we did not learn from textbooks or follow a set syllabus in her classes. She insisted on free thinking and we were taught just the basics. We were forced to learn through experimentation, learn independently, question every logic and challenge each other. Her classes were fun filled and yet she was the 'iron-lady' when it came to discipline. Our unseasoned minds were soon fine tuned to be creative and follow a rigorous approach to perfection. The other was Professor Neil. He taught me Strategic Management in B-school. He had a brilliant mind and his teaching style was unique. He would walk into the class, remove his coat, power up the projector and shoot through 10 slides of the course material. This routine was followed for the first 15 minutes of his lecture session and no questions were entertained. After this came the most exciting part. With the routine done away with, the real education used to begin. We could discuss any topic for the next 45 minutes from sports to politics to page 3 gossip and ask any number of questions. Most management theories were ruthlessly shot down, frivolous or ordinary ideas ridiculed and the discussions were always cleverly steered by him to make us think about the future. The idea was to make us think and dream big. Professor Neil’s philosophy was that our imagination should always outstrip our capabilities and this was the first mile in the path for excellence.

Most of are lucky to have come across such exemplary teachers who have been the beacon in our lives. Unfortunately some of us are not. Though in every breadth we speak about development and progress of our country, we still lag in providing the basic needs to all. Here are few statistics- in urban schools the ratio of teacher to student averages around 1: 30. However in rural areas the ratio is around 1:45. In some states such as Bihar the ratio is even worse about 1:60. The Indian government spends about 3.5% of its GDP on education which is a far cry from developed countries which spend almost double. The US and OECD countries spend about 5.5% and 6.1% of their GDP on education respectively. When it comes to gender diversity in education the numbers are heavily tipped towards 'urban males'. In primary schools the National Attendance Rate hovers at about the 85% mark for urban males, urban females and rural males. For rural females it’s about 78%. At secondary school level, the National Attendance Rate for urban males and females is about 65% while for rural males its about 55% and rural females its as low as 45%. This can mean only one thing. That more and more of our kids especially in rural areas are dropping out of school and females are most affected.

Why is their a disparity? Probably we are are yet to break the positive correlations that exist between the sociial starta, caste and gender bias. Living in the cities we take education for granted. It is natural for us to go to school and college, complete our education and find a befitting career. It somehow feels like our ingrained birth right. Do not all the Indians deserve the same? Is it not the moral responsibility of every educated individual to ensure that the deprived ones too get access to same opportunities that they have had. Though there exists endless Government schemes to provide education, they are always short on money and found wanting for lack of vision and execution. NGO efforts too lack the necessary scale to to bring about a fundamental change. So why not this teacher’s day we pick up the baton and make a resolution- Educate at least one child a year. Provide them the means and tools to finish schooling. Teach them what we have learnt. Collectively we can bring about a radical change in the system. Afterall we are an urban workforce of over quarter billion.

So what are we waiting for? Lets unleash the teacher in each one of us….

(This rambling is a tribute to all my teachers who made me what I am today. Thank you!)

Dreams + Sacrifices = Development (who are the dreamers? and who sacrifices?)

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 14:49:00 +0000

The irritating 'buzzing' of the alarm is what I wake up to every morning.The irritation is compounded if it happens to be a weekend. Smashing the alarm to bits when it goes off every morning is something I am sure most of us want to do. But alas the harmless alarm will always remain the most hated but necessary invention in our lives forever.

So last Saturday when the alarm did buzz for the zillionth time I dragged myself out of the bed. With the necessities done away with, I quickly got ready for the weekend escapade on my bicycle. Usually I do not decide on any particular route, I just follow my heart and instinct. So after about 20 minutes of cycling I found myself on this on this narrow winding road running parallel to the freshly laid 6-lane expressway headed towards Bangalore’s new international airport. The airport, albeit its flaws, proudly represents the development of the city. As the road curved away from the expressway the typical ‘city noise’ began to fade and concrete structures gave way to lush green fields and cleaner air. For the next few kilometers there was no sight of any human and I began to sense an iota of joy in my heart. Probably I had finally found that ‘oasis’ I was always been longing for…

I pedaled on for the next one hour. I could see sporadic signs of developments – new sign boards marking distances, new drains been constructed, high tension towers etc but no sign of anyone. The gradient of the road increased steeply and as I went past a sign that said ‘Kannur Cross’ I saw the first signs of civilization -a wooden shack and a few houses. As I neared the shack I noticed it was a small ‘chai shop’ and stopped for a break. I dismounted from the bicycle, saddled it up against and tree and sat on the stone bench.

A sweet voice asked the familiar words, “Ennu Beeku” (what do you want?). (The following conversation took place in Kannada and I have translated it the best I can in English)

I asked, “Who is that?”

A small head popped up from behind a makeshift counter. A girl, probably about 8-10 years old with droopy eyes, wearing a skirt and shirt stood on a stool.

She said, “we have no water” , and the cleaned her leaky nose.

“I do not want water. You got cigarettes?” I enquired. I began to scan the shelves checking for signs of any.

“Ajja (grandpa) will come” she said. I couldn’t help noticing that her skirt and blouse were held in place with pins and she probably had a bath a week before.

A rather gruff voice said, “Namaskara (hello)” from behind my back. An elderly man wearing a dhoti and an oversized white turned brown shirt was walking up to me. He had grey hair and a slight hunch.

I asked, “Do you have tea? I also need a cigarette”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Bangalore”, I said, “you got tea?”

“Bangalore…hmmm..big place…big houses. I heard you have electricity problems. We have no electricity here from yesterday evening,” said ajja. I was in no mood to hear about anybody’s problems. I wanted to move on quickly.

I said, “Ok”, shrugged my shoulders and began to walk towards my cycle.

“You can come to my house if you want. We got hot tea there”, the old man said. He pointed down a narrow pathway indicating the direction to his house.

“No. Thank you. I’ll be on my way.” I said.

“If you want, you can sit on the bench. Usha will get you tea.” He quickly asked his grand-daughter to get me a glass of tea from the house. He sternly told her not to spill it. Usha quickly ran down the small pathway. For the first time I noticed that the pathway was lined with few mud houses and beyond them were open dry fields. I sat down reluctantly on the stone bench.

“Do you want a beedi? I have some’, enquired the old man. I politely refused. He squatted on the roadside and lit a beedi which he began to puff vigorously.

“How long have you lived in Bangalore? You must be working in one of those big companies. We have no electricity here from yesterday. Sometimes we don’t get electricity for up to two days. Taps have run dry too. We have a well but the water level has fallen” he said. At that moment I felt I was like a priest listening to the confessions of an old man. I began to question my judgment of taking a pit stop here.

“You should take the matter up with your local corporator,” I said, totally uninterested in his rambling.

A smile broke his lips revealing a few tobacco stained teeth. “ We have no local authority. We had a village leader and he moved to the city. We have no one now. A few families are left in our village. We have no choice. The government is going to take our houses. A 4 lane express way is planned.”

“Good for you,” I said, “Development means money. You can sell your house now, make money and have a better life”

He quickly shot back, “Development for who? That’s for only people like you. Where will I go at this age leaving this place? How will I find food in the future? What hope do I have?”

Well, now I was beginning to have a fight on my hands. All my learning’s about economy, management and finance came flooding into my head. I was framing an answer in my head when Usha came with a glass of tea.

I politely said, “Thank you. This was not needed. It’s too much trouble for you.”

“Its ok. It will not taste great. We have shortage of milk here. We don’t have enough money to feed the cows.” I was wondering now if I did the right thing of accepting the tea. I stared at the half glass of tea without sipping it. I thought to myself, will Usha curse me for stealing her half glass of milk?

He carried on,” I have 2 sons and 1 daughter. The eldest son works in construction. There is a road being laid a few kilometers from here and he works there. The daughter is married to a man from the same village. Son-in-law works in construction too. My daughter takes care of the house and me. My youngest son, Chellappa, is smart. He is studying diploma. He is our only hope.”

“Development leads to rise in income levels. Once you get the money from the government you can buy a new piece of land and set-up a shop. You will have more customers and more income. You can then feed your family and have a better life.” I said. I was brimming with pride. The management thinking does help to give articulate answers.

My adversary now blurted out, “What income? Will you ever leave your house and go elsewhere? Now at least I have a plot of land from which I get some income. Development is going to steal my land and house. I don’t know anything else other than farming. People like you will drive big cars on big roads. We are the ones who sacrifice. If needed you give some charity and move on. We want our lives not development or charity.”

Those emotion filled lines caught me completely off-guard. I didn’t know what to say next. I finished the tea and got up to leave. I pulled out a bar of Snickers from my back-pack and gave it to the little girl. I quickly mounted my cycle and rode out without turning back. A few kilometers and the narrow single lane road suddenly gave way to a well tarred 4 lane expressway just like the old man had said. Within a few weeks this road will be cutting through Usha’s mud house and wooden shop.

The grey haired man’s words kept ringing in my head as I headed home. “Development for who?”, “We are the ones who sacrifice”, “We need our lives…”…I rummage through economic statistics every day of my life. The numbers indicate India is witnessing rapid development. Today we have mobile phones, better healthcare and housing and luxuries all around us. Then how can there be such a contrasting difference. Are not Usha and her family part of this development? People like them somehow have not yet been the beneficiaries of economic growth. Probably it’s easy to make policies sitting in air-conditioned rooms, but the ground realties are always stark.

Who is to blame? The list looks long! Maybe we have to blame ourselves. We grab what we can and get moving head. Our objectives are somehow intertwined with money, power and position. We live in the world’s largest democracy but still at some level feudalism is imbibed in us. We tend to look down on the not so deserving. Caste, creed and religion as much as a uniting factor it is also dividing us. How then can we bring quality to Usha and her Ajja? Maybe there is a ray of hope for that family. If their youngest sibling finishes college, he can maybe get a BPO job and feed his family. Or will he too perish?

The glaring of horns of trucks and cars brings me back to reality. The green landscape has now vanished (or rather given up and folded) and concrete jungles have sprouted. I reach home and ring the door bell.

As soon as my mother opens the door she shouts out, “Son, what took you so long? The electricity has been out for an hour and I need use the mixer. Call the local electricity office………….”

I walk into my room and collapse on the bed due to exhaustion.

Happy 64^th Independence day!!

Strategic Classification of People in Traffic Jams

noreply@blogger.com (KG) — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 14:52:00 +0000

Over the past month, thanks to my new job, I am blessed with the honor of navigating peak hour traffic jams in Bangalore every morning. Initially it was highly frustrating, but as they say ‘time is the greatest healer’ - I began to slowly get used to sitting locked in a steel box for 60 minutes. My old habit too came back and I started observing the reactions/actions of people around me. After a few weeks of analysis below is a broad classification of people. (Disclaimer-the classification is based on behavioral traits captured as observed and perceived by the writer under certain extreme conditions. The writer will not be held responsible for any damages caused)

‘I don’t care a S@#* types’

Who are they? These are usually the bus and lorry drivers. Being in a traffic jam gives them a welcome break.

What do they do? Open a packet of Ghutka/Kaini and start chewing, light up a cigarette/beedi, yawn, scratch various parts of their body, spit out of the windows at the vehicles nearby, stretch on their small seats and generally laze around as if in a park

‘The Abusers’

Who are they? Auto rickshaw, tempo and taxi drivers

What do they do? Their only motto is to squeeze through the narrowest gaps available. Their ‘modus operandi’ - stunning the other divers through a barrage of choicest verbal abuse. I have had the extreme pleasure of taking an auto to work twice in the last month. During the 60 minute ride the average verbal abuse meted out was 18.Their vocabulary somehow seems to be infinite and if there was a Guinness record for abusing am sure these guys would win hands down.

‘The Mavericks’

Who are they? People on two wheelers (women excluded)

What do they do? They are class apart. They have the capability of slipping through traffic jams just as mud would slip through your fingers when you try to hold it. You would generally see them riding their two wheelers on footpaths, utilizing gaps between the bumpers of vehicles to squeeze through, frequently jumping signals, cutting across other vehicles, overtaking aimlessly etc. They live a dangerous life.

‘Good Samaritans’

Who are they? People who follow the rules, drive carefully and always get late to work. J

What do they do? They do nothing. They get blocked by people who don’t care a S@#*, get abused by ‘The Abusers’ and are completely outwitted by ‘The Mavericks’. They sigh and take it all with a smile.

‘The Outliers’

Who are they? Women drivers

What do they do? Park their four wheelers diagonally or horizontally in a jam to prevent others from getting past them. Mow down cyclists and pedestrians deliberately. Take off when a signal turns red. Drive in first gear in the middle of the road. Caution: Avoid them like plague. And hope one does not cross your path.