A father so proud, of his little boy
He sees himself, only younger, ah what joy
Those baby eyes, show him once more
Innocence he thought was lost in yore
A little outburst, from a nudge here
His toothless smile, from a tickle dear
Lilting laughter, mellifluous like stream
But boy's antics make his mother scream
Tiny yawns beacon the li'l guy to bed
But his curious mind, refuses to be led
His tired body, yearning to turn in
But racy mind, wins over, won't give in
His grit is unnerving, his strength to see
Moving chair, table and things bigger than he
His curiosity brimming, he opens all doors
Scrambling in and out cupboards, on all fours
Doesn't speak a word, yet, says so much
With his eyes, with his cries and his touch
Oh! that puppy face, when he wants his way
Let alone father, the mountains would sway
Everyday father learns a new lesson
Of life, happiness and abandon
Sees each day how the son grows tall
Even as the he feels his own age fall
Father thinks 'wait my son, don't grow, you'
I'm just getting to know now, can't outgrow you
Wait for me, I am growing, at heart, young and blue
Keep playing, and one day I'll be as young as you
-MGP
2010-05-26
2010-03-23
Mongoose and snake
In the era of bite sized entertainment, 'byte sized' if you bring in the digital angle to it, shortness and sports are related at some level.
"Jesus wept" is the shortest verse in The Bible. The phrase, however, found its way into popular jargon when short skirts found their place in international tennis. The phrase now represents the phenomenon personified by Navratilova and her predecessors, Kournikova, Sherapova and their successors.
At another level of shortness, take cricket for example: from a 5-day-long affair to a day long version to the now as-long-as-a-movie format with T20, innovation in cricket has found for it new fans. Cricket has probably also recovered lost fans.
The information convergence led to competition, for the attention of the consumer, between traditional broadcasting media and the mobile & the Internet as media. And the consumer is increasingly drawn toward personalised entertainment. Anyone who has enjoyed the award winning video feeds on youtube (dispite all the garbage that people upload) and other video feeds can tell you why the Internet offers better quality (measured as better value per unit time?) over TV in general. Don't like NGC or Discovery channel in Hindi? Personalise it into English (or vice versa) with digital DTH. DTH is driven by technology, but consumerism (of it) is mixedly driven by need and affordability.
To apply this logic to sports, I think the race for quality content measured per unit time is another reason why shorter formats of games like cricket will revolutionize the way we consume sports-as-entertainment. You personalise the consumption of sports by chosing the format you like best.
A couple of days back, two new IPL team franchises were sold for almost 150% of the price paid for all eight original franchise teams three years back. It's like saying 'two for the price of ten'. Franchise owners know that the IPL wave has only touched the shores of Tier II cities. There is a lot of cricket ground waiting to be covered.
Talking of shortness, the quintessential cricket bat has become shorter!!! "Mongoose" is deemed to become the latest innovation in cricket. Named eponymously for the animal's ferocity, the new bat is 44% shorter on the body, compensated in weight by thickness and in length by a longer handle. Like one cricket commentator was saying, the bat in Mathew Hayden's hands looks more like a club than a bat. And clobbering Hayden did demonstrate a couple of matches ago. Mongoose helped run the meter fast!
If the the five day version of the game is the snake and the T20 version the Mongoose, who will win this match? The match, you can bet, will be much longer than an evening with IPL.
"Jesus wept" is the shortest verse in The Bible. The phrase, however, found its way into popular jargon when short skirts found their place in international tennis. The phrase now represents the phenomenon personified by Navratilova and her predecessors, Kournikova, Sherapova and their successors.
At another level of shortness, take cricket for example: from a 5-day-long affair to a day long version to the now as-long-as-a-movie format with T20, innovation in cricket has found for it new fans. Cricket has probably also recovered lost fans.
The information convergence led to competition, for the attention of the consumer, between traditional broadcasting media and the mobile & the Internet as media. And the consumer is increasingly drawn toward personalised entertainment. Anyone who has enjoyed the award winning video feeds on youtube (dispite all the garbage that people upload) and other video feeds can tell you why the Internet offers better quality (measured as better value per unit time?) over TV in general. Don't like NGC or Discovery channel in Hindi? Personalise it into English (or vice versa) with digital DTH. DTH is driven by technology, but consumerism (of it) is mixedly driven by need and affordability.
To apply this logic to sports, I think the race for quality content measured per unit time is another reason why shorter formats of games like cricket will revolutionize the way we consume sports-as-entertainment. You personalise the consumption of sports by chosing the format you like best.
A couple of days back, two new IPL team franchises were sold for almost 150% of the price paid for all eight original franchise teams three years back. It's like saying 'two for the price of ten'. Franchise owners know that the IPL wave has only touched the shores of Tier II cities. There is a lot of cricket ground waiting to be covered.
Talking of shortness, the quintessential cricket bat has become shorter!!! "Mongoose" is deemed to become the latest innovation in cricket. Named eponymously for the animal's ferocity, the new bat is 44% shorter on the body, compensated in weight by thickness and in length by a longer handle. Like one cricket commentator was saying, the bat in Mathew Hayden's hands looks more like a club than a bat. And clobbering Hayden did demonstrate a couple of matches ago. Mongoose helped run the meter fast!
If the the five day version of the game is the snake and the T20 version the Mongoose, who will win this match? The match, you can bet, will be much longer than an evening with IPL.
2010-03-17
On public etiquette and sycophancy
Breakneck traffic on hardly busy suburban roads, Honda Civics brushing past caravans of pedal-rickshaws, traffic quasi-police trying in vain to control the flow of automobiles and an off-duty policeman without a helmet trying to cross the road even while the mainstream traffic cruised along... these are what I observed in the first ten minutes in the land of chikan and 'pehle aap - tehzeeb' (etiquette of 'you first').
But the most striking thing was that the city was aglow with blue colored lighting, blue colored cloth hoardings, large posters bearing photographs and symbols of the governing party politicians. Whizzing past statue after statue of the chief minister and mentors of the political party, I could not but wonder how much money was being spent on this mega-celebration. Then we drove past the planned venue for the gala anniversary event where more than a hundred thousand people were expected to assemble in a couple of days. But it appeared as if all the police jeeps in the city had already found parking around the locale.
My driver explained in a careful tone how the administration is spending 'araboan rupayeh' (unimaginably high amount of money) for an anniversary. While farmers and students outside the city make do with just a few hours of power everyday, the city casts a blue stamp in the sky for the passing satellite.
There was one conspicuous stretch of road though that bore absolutely no lighting. Nothing else changed- smooth as glass tarmac, neatly painted traffic-lanes, manicured divider and dedicated, separated pedestrian and bicycle tracks. The stretch was dark with no street lights of any type. The ensuing explanation of the anomaly told me about how politicians' egos function in complete isolation from public safety norms. The particular stretch of road was apparently the dream project the former chief minister. The project having been a success and the current administration being at constant loggerheads with the former, the latter chose to downplay the success of the road by knocking out all lights. Who would dare cross the road here?
Three days hence, we now know that fifty million dollars were spent and a garland made of currency notes worth a million dollars was presented to the chief of the party. Where the money came from is altogether a different question and for the CAG of India to worry. In a state where the number of people living below poverty line is one of the highest in the country, this amount of money given to them, in kind -food and shelter even- would have had a colossal impact on thousands of lives. If caste politics is the name of the game, fine, the party could have still distributed the money to their own voters if no one else. Even that, biased it may have been, would have still served a social cause.
Do the people from the, historically, economically disadvantaged factions, whose cause the party claims to champion and who voted this party to power, wonder why their chosen one did not make better use of the money? Or did they admire the pink garland of grands, thinking all the while that it looked so big and so pretty it befitted a white elephant?
A million dollar currency garland and a fifty million dollar gala is bad public tehzeeb for any leader in any land.
But the most striking thing was that the city was aglow with blue colored lighting, blue colored cloth hoardings, large posters bearing photographs and symbols of the governing party politicians. Whizzing past statue after statue of the chief minister and mentors of the political party, I could not but wonder how much money was being spent on this mega-celebration. Then we drove past the planned venue for the gala anniversary event where more than a hundred thousand people were expected to assemble in a couple of days. But it appeared as if all the police jeeps in the city had already found parking around the locale.
My driver explained in a careful tone how the administration is spending 'araboan rupayeh' (unimaginably high amount of money) for an anniversary. While farmers and students outside the city make do with just a few hours of power everyday, the city casts a blue stamp in the sky for the passing satellite.
There was one conspicuous stretch of road though that bore absolutely no lighting. Nothing else changed- smooth as glass tarmac, neatly painted traffic-lanes, manicured divider and dedicated, separated pedestrian and bicycle tracks. The stretch was dark with no street lights of any type. The ensuing explanation of the anomaly told me about how politicians' egos function in complete isolation from public safety norms. The particular stretch of road was apparently the dream project the former chief minister. The project having been a success and the current administration being at constant loggerheads with the former, the latter chose to downplay the success of the road by knocking out all lights. Who would dare cross the road here?
Three days hence, we now know that fifty million dollars were spent and a garland made of currency notes worth a million dollars was presented to the chief of the party. Where the money came from is altogether a different question and for the CAG of India to worry. In a state where the number of people living below poverty line is one of the highest in the country, this amount of money given to them, in kind -food and shelter even- would have had a colossal impact on thousands of lives. If caste politics is the name of the game, fine, the party could have still distributed the money to their own voters if no one else. Even that, biased it may have been, would have still served a social cause.
Do the people from the, historically, economically disadvantaged factions, whose cause the party claims to champion and who voted this party to power, wonder why their chosen one did not make better use of the money? Or did they admire the pink garland of grands, thinking all the while that it looked so big and so pretty it befitted a white elephant?
A million dollar currency garland and a fifty million dollar gala is bad public tehzeeb for any leader in any land.
2010-03-07
Recalling brand stories
Brands are like friends, good friends are honest and don't let friends down. This is, in brief, one of the points that Professor Abraham Koshy (
Read Profile ) made in his recent article on ET(Read Here).
Maruti-Suzuki A-Star's is an apt caselet for brand crisis prevention. Maruti-Suzuki's major, even if not the first, recall highlights the sea change in how Indian producers treat their consumers.
But when did Indian brands, let's say specifically, Indian automobile brands become good friends of the consumer?
One of the key effects of our open market economy in automobile industry is that Indian players are no more taking consumers for granted. Faced with powerful peers who are quality conscious, responsible and honest, Indian producers have learned that for them "it 's the right way, or the highway". It was also probably the oft blamed Indian 'chalta hai' attitude coupled with the existence of seller's market for a long time, that had led to manufacturers' propensity to ignore issues that bothered consumers.
In 1999, I purchased Enfield's first aluminium-engine bike called Machismo A350. The bike suffered from noisy valves that chattered wildly. But Enfield did nothing despite complaints and the bike failed miserably. New avatars of the bike emerged a couple of years later, but many were left holding lemons.
Then, take for example, Bajaj Chetak's famous 'tilting of the scooter' trick. Unless the scooter was tilted at a difficult angle, known only to an owner, the fuel wouldn't start flowing. I remember seeing this growing up in the '80s, when scooters ruled, as well as in the mid 2000s, when aerodynamic bikes whizzed past the humble scooter. Everyone knew it was a fuel problem (you did not see it in other scooters, by the way). But Bajaj did nothing, apparently, to fix the problem for 20 odd years. I guess after some time the tilting became an ownership statement, a romantic one at that. And Bajaj could probably get away because of the strong heritage value. A Bajaj scooter offered mass consumer value on which India rode for a few generations.
But at some point in time between the 90s and early 2000s two things overtook the Bajaj scooter phenomenon. First, were the Bajaj bikes, which themselves were a response to the flood of 100 cc bikes that, to name the pioneers, Hero Honda and TVS Suzukis had caused. The second was the shifting consumer preference. Who cared for a technologically stagnant product when there were so many options available? Pick up any auto magazine and see how many pages the bikes table, already written in small sized font, runs into. So, is this one of the reasons why the Bajaj scooter was put to rest?
Today, however, it is the buyer's market. Consumerism, aided by information-empowerment in the background of open competition has helped clean up the manufacturer's act and enabled consumer to 'unfriend' the brands she cannot trust.
Read Profile ) made in his recent article on ET(Read Here).
Maruti-Suzuki A-Star's is an apt caselet for brand crisis prevention. Maruti-Suzuki's major, even if not the first, recall highlights the sea change in how Indian producers treat their consumers.
But when did Indian brands, let's say specifically, Indian automobile brands become good friends of the consumer?
One of the key effects of our open market economy in automobile industry is that Indian players are no more taking consumers for granted. Faced with powerful peers who are quality conscious, responsible and honest, Indian producers have learned that for them "it 's the right way, or the highway". It was also probably the oft blamed Indian 'chalta hai' attitude coupled with the existence of seller's market for a long time, that had led to manufacturers' propensity to ignore issues that bothered consumers.
In 1999, I purchased Enfield's first aluminium-engine bike called Machismo A350. The bike suffered from noisy valves that chattered wildly. But Enfield did nothing despite complaints and the bike failed miserably. New avatars of the bike emerged a couple of years later, but many were left holding lemons.
Then, take for example, Bajaj Chetak's famous 'tilting of the scooter' trick. Unless the scooter was tilted at a difficult angle, known only to an owner, the fuel wouldn't start flowing. I remember seeing this growing up in the '80s, when scooters ruled, as well as in the mid 2000s, when aerodynamic bikes whizzed past the humble scooter. Everyone knew it was a fuel problem (you did not see it in other scooters, by the way). But Bajaj did nothing, apparently, to fix the problem for 20 odd years. I guess after some time the tilting became an ownership statement, a romantic one at that. And Bajaj could probably get away because of the strong heritage value. A Bajaj scooter offered mass consumer value on which India rode for a few generations.
But at some point in time between the 90s and early 2000s two things overtook the Bajaj scooter phenomenon. First, were the Bajaj bikes, which themselves were a response to the flood of 100 cc bikes that, to name the pioneers, Hero Honda and TVS Suzukis had caused. The second was the shifting consumer preference. Who cared for a technologically stagnant product when there were so many options available? Pick up any auto magazine and see how many pages the bikes table, already written in small sized font, runs into. So, is this one of the reasons why the Bajaj scooter was put to rest?
Today, however, it is the buyer's market. Consumerism, aided by information-empowerment in the background of open competition has helped clean up the manufacturer's act and enabled consumer to 'unfriend' the brands she cannot trust.
2010-01-20
In Mumbai, it's all drama ...(Part 3, the critique)
Continued from the previous posts. First, read here then here.
The two scenes you read are real experiences, down to the details. The same thing happened to me twice in three/four months. It was not in the same place or similar time of the day, almost same nothing, except the trickster's modus operandi. The two points of rendezvous are separated by several miles. Mumbai suburbs are chock-a-block full of hundreds of thousands of cars and millions upon millions of people. What are the odds that this trickster had to run into me, again? What a statistical oddity, I initially thought.
Now that I think about it, there may be a reasonable explanation. After all, what would Levitt and Dubner say? I said earlier that scenarios were 'almost same nothing'. There might have been a reason she asked me for money the first time around. It must have been the car I am driving (my new and as such a popular mid-size sedan). That has to be a key factor.
Think of it this way...
Her modus operandi involves approaching people with a particular profile. On the road, it would be determined by the car people are driving. Also, just to make sure that there is no influence around the person who is approached, profile might also include a key point that the driver is only occupant in the car. And in order to elicit a favourable response, another reasonable filter might be that the driver is not an occupational driver but a self-driving owner. In Mumbai, a good proportion, even if not majority of car owners have a driver.(Sample set being my colleagues, neighbours and people I see on my usual route to work). The universal set is smaller now. This narrows the odds. The way probability works in reality, distribution is a mere estimate, not an actual map of how the events will pan out; clustered, rarefied, regular, whatever, but unpredictable. I seem to have been part of a statistical congregation.
When I told my wife, S, about the first scene she was flummoxed. 'So, why are you telling me this story after many months?' When I told her about scene#2, she could not believe it. 'People will do anything to make money. But, how smart (as in cunning-smart)' was her response.
While we were trying to size the opportunity of the road trick, it dawned upon us that maybe the auto rickshaw driver is a part of the game too. They share the spoils. S pointed out that when someone asks for help like this, it is likely that people will not look for change and will hand over a single bill. If you believe the trickster's story you will give her at least what she needs. If asked for 80, you'll probably hand over a 100. So, at hundred a piece, assuming she successfully melts five hearts, only during busy parts of the day, each month she is making more than, to quote an honest vocation, what an average public school teacher would make.
That's a handsome side business. Exchange a few words and earn quick bucks. The business model must be working and working well, if it is still alive for atleast few months that I witnessed it (could be longer, only I've known it for as long.)
Public mooching is indeed profitable. Any takers? Just make sure you don't fall for the particular auto vixen. (A bit cockily, I might add, say a hello to her if you do meet.)
The two scenes you read are real experiences, down to the details. The same thing happened to me twice in three/four months. It was not in the same place or similar time of the day, almost same nothing, except the trickster's modus operandi. The two points of rendezvous are separated by several miles. Mumbai suburbs are chock-a-block full of hundreds of thousands of cars and millions upon millions of people. What are the odds that this trickster had to run into me, again? What a statistical oddity, I initially thought.
Now that I think about it, there may be a reasonable explanation. After all, what would Levitt and Dubner say? I said earlier that scenarios were 'almost same nothing'. There might have been a reason she asked me for money the first time around. It must have been the car I am driving (my new and as such a popular mid-size sedan). That has to be a key factor.
Think of it this way...
Her modus operandi involves approaching people with a particular profile. On the road, it would be determined by the car people are driving. Also, just to make sure that there is no influence around the person who is approached, profile might also include a key point that the driver is only occupant in the car. And in order to elicit a favourable response, another reasonable filter might be that the driver is not an occupational driver but a self-driving owner. In Mumbai, a good proportion, even if not majority of car owners have a driver.(Sample set being my colleagues, neighbours and people I see on my usual route to work). The universal set is smaller now. This narrows the odds. The way probability works in reality, distribution is a mere estimate, not an actual map of how the events will pan out; clustered, rarefied, regular, whatever, but unpredictable. I seem to have been part of a statistical congregation.
When I told my wife, S, about the first scene she was flummoxed. 'So, why are you telling me this story after many months?' When I told her about scene#2, she could not believe it. 'People will do anything to make money. But, how smart (as in cunning-smart)' was her response.
While we were trying to size the opportunity of the road trick, it dawned upon us that maybe the auto rickshaw driver is a part of the game too. They share the spoils. S pointed out that when someone asks for help like this, it is likely that people will not look for change and will hand over a single bill. If you believe the trickster's story you will give her at least what she needs. If asked for 80, you'll probably hand over a 100. So, at hundred a piece, assuming she successfully melts five hearts, only during busy parts of the day, each month she is making more than, to quote an honest vocation, what an average public school teacher would make.
That's a handsome side business. Exchange a few words and earn quick bucks. The business model must be working and working well, if it is still alive for atleast few months that I witnessed it (could be longer, only I've known it for as long.)
Public mooching is indeed profitable. Any takers? Just make sure you don't fall for the particular auto vixen. (A bit cockily, I might add, say a hello to her if you do meet.)
2010-01-15
In Mumbai, there's lot of drama...(Part 2)
(Continued from here)
Scene#1 Take#2:
It's late on a Saturday winter afternoon in a winterless Mumbai. It is very crowded today as I drive from one point in the suburbs to another. 'When isn't it crowded?' are my thoughts as I pull into a traffic light. Trance is playing on my car music system just as I notice that I am surrounded by autorickshaws.
A face peers out of the auto stopped to my immediate right. The sweet looking girl gestures me to roll down my car window. And I think, 'Don't I know this girl? I am dreaming? This has happened to me before. Is this deja vu?' Mind races back to the last time this scene was played out. Four months back, rainy night, traffic, same gestures... 'Oh, I know what is coming. Damn...my instincts were on the dot! I am glad I did not fall for that trick last time',are my thoughts as I cut the music and roll down the window.
Looks can be deceptive. But I feel a little proud for having judged it right the first time around. I need to get this girl to understand that she cannot get away with it all the time. A meek 'Sorry!' wouldn't have the punch. I need to say it like she cannot forget it for some time. But, I cannot make a scene. If a guy shouts at a stranger-woman (by now, all the sweetness about her has metamorphosed into wiliness) who is asking for help, those around you will likely trash you verbally, or physically, before listening to your story. Then there will be lot of honking from those behind me who are not interested in seeing where this goes. The inanity of the potential chaos makes me think we'll settle it the simple way. I only need to get a point across.
So, by the time she says it, I am saying it in my mind, smile on my face 'Sir, can you please do me a favour?'. My smile widens, as I lift up my index finger and say ' Ma'am, I know what you are going to say. But you have asked me for this favour once before, remember?'. I think she does not recognize me. But, I am sure that she knows that I know. She knows that she has slipped this time. She also probably cannot believe that she has tried to trick the same guy twice. What are the odds, isn't it? There are some things money can buy, but the look on her face was priceless.
Anyway, I am glad I had recognized that confident delivery of the request the first time around. I see that confidence again, when she recovers her poise and with sufficient stoicism, responds with 'OK' and then withdraws into the auto rickshaw.
(To be continued)
Scene#1 Take#2:
It's late on a Saturday winter afternoon in a winterless Mumbai. It is very crowded today as I drive from one point in the suburbs to another. 'When isn't it crowded?' are my thoughts as I pull into a traffic light. Trance is playing on my car music system just as I notice that I am surrounded by autorickshaws.
A face peers out of the auto stopped to my immediate right. The sweet looking girl gestures me to roll down my car window. And I think, 'Don't I know this girl? I am dreaming? This has happened to me before. Is this deja vu?' Mind races back to the last time this scene was played out. Four months back, rainy night, traffic, same gestures... 'Oh, I know what is coming. Damn...my instincts were on the dot! I am glad I did not fall for that trick last time',are my thoughts as I cut the music and roll down the window.
Looks can be deceptive. But I feel a little proud for having judged it right the first time around. I need to get this girl to understand that she cannot get away with it all the time. A meek 'Sorry!' wouldn't have the punch. I need to say it like she cannot forget it for some time. But, I cannot make a scene. If a guy shouts at a stranger-woman (by now, all the sweetness about her has metamorphosed into wiliness) who is asking for help, those around you will likely trash you verbally, or physically, before listening to your story. Then there will be lot of honking from those behind me who are not interested in seeing where this goes. The inanity of the potential chaos makes me think we'll settle it the simple way. I only need to get a point across.
So, by the time she says it, I am saying it in my mind, smile on my face 'Sir, can you please do me a favour?'. My smile widens, as I lift up my index finger and say ' Ma'am, I know what you are going to say. But you have asked me for this favour once before, remember?'. I think she does not recognize me. But, I am sure that she knows that I know. She knows that she has slipped this time. She also probably cannot believe that she has tried to trick the same guy twice. What are the odds, isn't it? There are some things money can buy, but the look on her face was priceless.
Anyway, I am glad I had recognized that confident delivery of the request the first time around. I see that confidence again, when she recovers her poise and with sufficient stoicism, responds with 'OK' and then withdraws into the auto rickshaw.
(To be continued)
2010-01-09
In Mumbai, there's lots of drama...(Part 1)
Called by many names, Mumbai, as a film city, ensnares people's imagination like no other. Does life mimic cinema or cinema mimic life here? In the continuum of what imitates what, the answer must lie only somewhere at the center. You'll find all flavours of life on the street -romance, fantasy, adultery, violence, deceit, drama, comedy etc- as long as you care to step back and observe. When the regular Mumbaikar cannot escape the real virtuality of the city, how can a simple guy like me? Here's are a few scenes from my life in the past few months...
Scene#1 Take#1:
It's late on a rainy evening of an otherwise quiet Saturday. You might have noticed that when it has been drizzling continuously, things kind of quieten down. I am driving alone from one point in the suburbs to another, cutting across several busy junctions. Now, I am stuck at the same signal for the third time that the light changes back to red.
Just as I am cursing the traffic congestion, the autorickshaw that was , directionally speaking, hanging around my five o'clock pulls ahead to my one o'clock. A sweet face of a girl in her early twenties or late teens cranes out of the auto. Her hand gestures to me to roll down my car window. As I see her eyelashes blinking away rain drops, I wonder whether she is looking for directions. But she is in an auto and usually, it is me that goes to an auto for directions, not the other way round. Anyway, my car window hisses halfway down and I wait for her to speak.
She says,in perfect English, "Sir, can you please do me a favour?" I am all the more unsure about what to expect now. "Sir, I do not have money to pay to this autorishaw guy. Can you please give me 80 Rupees?" My mind races. Something is not right about this scenario. Her sweet voice wants me to believe this is a genuine request. Her immaculate private school educated accent tells me she must be coming from at least a middle class home. I cannot make out what she is wearing, but, someone in her position, I assume, must have a cellphone. Even if she does not have one, why doesn't she wait till she reaches her destination and arrange for money with whomever she is meeting? Maybe, she is even going home now. Either way, asking money, publicly, from a stranger, is not a smart thing to do in my opinion. Doing so exposes her vulnerability. Why is she asking me then?
A couple or three seconds pass as I consider all this. My thoughts are interrupted by her voice again, "Sir?". I have to decide whether I want to dig into my pocket or not. Would it be OK to not give her the money? 'Come on fast', I think. I go with my instincts and decide that the straight face and the confidence with which she delivered her request tells me that she is used to making such requests. Maybe she is just wanting to bill her ride on a stranger willing to help. Circumstances do not seem to be dire. So, I just shake my head and say "I am sorry!" and roll up my window. Her face disappears into the auto and I look around to check whether the light has changed. It has not.
In the background of raindrops falling on my car roof, I think about whether I did the right thing. She did seem sweet, after all.
(To be continued)
Scene#1 Take#1:
It's late on a rainy evening of an otherwise quiet Saturday. You might have noticed that when it has been drizzling continuously, things kind of quieten down. I am driving alone from one point in the suburbs to another, cutting across several busy junctions. Now, I am stuck at the same signal for the third time that the light changes back to red.
Just as I am cursing the traffic congestion, the autorickshaw that was , directionally speaking, hanging around my five o'clock pulls ahead to my one o'clock. A sweet face of a girl in her early twenties or late teens cranes out of the auto. Her hand gestures to me to roll down my car window. As I see her eyelashes blinking away rain drops, I wonder whether she is looking for directions. But she is in an auto and usually, it is me that goes to an auto for directions, not the other way round. Anyway, my car window hisses halfway down and I wait for her to speak.
She says,in perfect English, "Sir, can you please do me a favour?" I am all the more unsure about what to expect now. "Sir, I do not have money to pay to this autorishaw guy. Can you please give me 80 Rupees?" My mind races. Something is not right about this scenario. Her sweet voice wants me to believe this is a genuine request. Her immaculate private school educated accent tells me she must be coming from at least a middle class home. I cannot make out what she is wearing, but, someone in her position, I assume, must have a cellphone. Even if she does not have one, why doesn't she wait till she reaches her destination and arrange for money with whomever she is meeting? Maybe, she is even going home now. Either way, asking money, publicly, from a stranger, is not a smart thing to do in my opinion. Doing so exposes her vulnerability. Why is she asking me then?
A couple or three seconds pass as I consider all this. My thoughts are interrupted by her voice again, "Sir?". I have to decide whether I want to dig into my pocket or not. Would it be OK to not give her the money? 'Come on fast', I think. I go with my instincts and decide that the straight face and the confidence with which she delivered her request tells me that she is used to making such requests. Maybe she is just wanting to bill her ride on a stranger willing to help. Circumstances do not seem to be dire. So, I just shake my head and say "I am sorry!" and roll up my window. Her face disappears into the auto and I look around to check whether the light has changed. It has not.
In the background of raindrops falling on my car roof, I think about whether I did the right thing. She did seem sweet, after all.
(To be continued)
2010-01-05
No Discounting New Year's Eve
The Christmas to new year's week is usually filled with tension among those who want to put it on sale and those who come to buy it. On one hand are those willing to start their new year with a bang. They will shop till the ball drops. On the other, there are those who want bang for their buck. Bargain hunters will make sure they start the new year with 'new everything' with nothing more than a pinch on their wallet. Then there are those who will, each year, shop one last time before they step into the new year with a resolution to stop splurging altogether. The malls have something for all categories.
The weird thing, though, is if you want to stay at home on the new year's eve, you will not get an offer in just the right places. I was asked to register and sign up for promotions before I could access the downloadable coupons from a couple of top pizza houses in the country. And when I did download them, the fine print did not help my appetite- "This offer is not valid on 31-Dec-2009!" I am trying to recall if this is the case in the United States too. I guess they have special discounts on the turn of the year. Is it because the same chains in India think people here are less imaginative on new year's and would order more pizzas no matter what? Why then pass the opportunity to fill the orders, at full price, from home parties?
Hearing about New year's eve parties is one of the traditional catching up activities you do in the first week. After the first week, it's as boring as talking about last year! Anyway, as you'd have guessed ours was a 'nice' one at home. Sit at home, play with our son and order pizzas at full price; no offers! Don't get me wrong, for a bargain hunter is not really about money. Just like for a kleptomaniac, it is not about the item. Think bigger, it is a middle class value; more like a value game.
But for many the eve went better than they expected it to. For some it almost did. Here are some stories I heard...
One of my colleagues regretted that she and her husband could not go to Goa to one of the progressive trance parties where they ring every new year in. Later, on learning that, this year, the place got busted with a lot of drugs on site they thought it was a good sign of times to come.
Another colleague ushered new year in a resort and for unknown reasons (he thinks it is a case of mistaken identity), he and his wife received more than their share of hospitality. They could not believe their luck when they received as gift a 'three days all expenses covered package at a beach resort'. It was given as a reward for their loyal patronage. But, this was the first time the couple had even been to the city. Would you call that lucky start or what?
You have reason to be happy when you have free couples pass to, I was told, one of the coolest places to be in Mumbai. Named after an exotic amphibian, the place charges a high fee for its new year's party. If all a guy has, to take to the party, is another male friend, then he does not want to use the pass as a couples pass, lest he send out all the wrong signals. So, he should feel luckier that he gets two free passes to cover both the stags. Economically, as one colleague pointed out, this is a loss to a potential couple who could have instead gone free to the party with those two half unused passe. Anyway, this guy lands up and finds himself among TV celebrities and really cool crowd. Or hot crowd as he later corrected himself.
Having the time of his life, he lands up at the bar next to an attractive woman (his description was much risqué). Adrenalin and new years spirits propel him to ask her, harmlessly, if she would like to dance with him. He, however, is faced with the dilemma of answering the question- "How much will you pay me?" Got to give it to the honesty of the guy, unfazed, he replies "What are the standard rates at a place like this? I am new here." 'I charge twenty five thousand' pat comes the reply. Still maintaining his presence of mind and also trying some fishing, if not getting some more free airtime as well as taking a big risk on his reputation or judgement on class (But, no mincing words in Mumbai, they say) he says 'Isn't that a little too high even for today?'. Looks like this woman is ready for anything, she says 'For you I will give a 10% discount!'. That response, to me was simply Manoj T Shyamalan-esqe unanticipated. Tell me if you hear a better one than that in all of 2010!
Like I said, if you are into buying something, there is someone selling it for a discount on new years. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case with pizzas delivered home on New Year's eve.
The weird thing, though, is if you want to stay at home on the new year's eve, you will not get an offer in just the right places. I was asked to register and sign up for promotions before I could access the downloadable coupons from a couple of top pizza houses in the country. And when I did download them, the fine print did not help my appetite- "This offer is not valid on 31-Dec-2009!" I am trying to recall if this is the case in the United States too. I guess they have special discounts on the turn of the year. Is it because the same chains in India think people here are less imaginative on new year's and would order more pizzas no matter what? Why then pass the opportunity to fill the orders, at full price, from home parties?
Hearing about New year's eve parties is one of the traditional catching up activities you do in the first week. After the first week, it's as boring as talking about last year! Anyway, as you'd have guessed ours was a 'nice' one at home. Sit at home, play with our son and order pizzas at full price; no offers! Don't get me wrong, for a bargain hunter is not really about money. Just like for a kleptomaniac, it is not about the item. Think bigger, it is a middle class value; more like a value game.
But for many the eve went better than they expected it to. For some it almost did. Here are some stories I heard...
One of my colleagues regretted that she and her husband could not go to Goa to one of the progressive trance parties where they ring every new year in. Later, on learning that, this year, the place got busted with a lot of drugs on site they thought it was a good sign of times to come.
Another colleague ushered new year in a resort and for unknown reasons (he thinks it is a case of mistaken identity), he and his wife received more than their share of hospitality. They could not believe their luck when they received as gift a 'three days all expenses covered package at a beach resort'. It was given as a reward for their loyal patronage. But, this was the first time the couple had even been to the city. Would you call that lucky start or what?
You have reason to be happy when you have free couples pass to, I was told, one of the coolest places to be in Mumbai. Named after an exotic amphibian, the place charges a high fee for its new year's party. If all a guy has, to take to the party, is another male friend, then he does not want to use the pass as a couples pass, lest he send out all the wrong signals. So, he should feel luckier that he gets two free passes to cover both the stags. Economically, as one colleague pointed out, this is a loss to a potential couple who could have instead gone free to the party with those two half unused passe. Anyway, this guy lands up and finds himself among TV celebrities and really cool crowd. Or hot crowd as he later corrected himself.
Having the time of his life, he lands up at the bar next to an attractive woman (his description was much risqué). Adrenalin and new years spirits propel him to ask her, harmlessly, if she would like to dance with him. He, however, is faced with the dilemma of answering the question- "How much will you pay me?" Got to give it to the honesty of the guy, unfazed, he replies "What are the standard rates at a place like this? I am new here." 'I charge twenty five thousand' pat comes the reply. Still maintaining his presence of mind and also trying some fishing, if not getting some more free airtime as well as taking a big risk on his reputation or judgement on class (But, no mincing words in Mumbai, they say) he says 'Isn't that a little too high even for today?'. Looks like this woman is ready for anything, she says 'For you I will give a 10% discount!'. That response, to me was simply Manoj T Shyamalan-esqe unanticipated. Tell me if you hear a better one than that in all of 2010!
Like I said, if you are into buying something, there is someone selling it for a discount on new years. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case with pizzas delivered home on New Year's eve.
2009-11-26
Flights of fantasy (Sarvé janaahaa Sukhoi-no bhavanthu)
'Now, wouldn't I like to be the president of India?' was the first thought that came to my mind when I heard our president had completed her first sub-sonic sortie. Atleast, then, I would get to fly in a Sukhoi and tick one of the hundred things to do before I die. Not even those who spend a lifetime in the Air Force get a chance like this.
But, what was the president doing in a Sukhoi in the first place? Is this the 21st century version of the traditional guard of honour inspection? May be it is one of the perks of being a president in a non-federal democracy. I am sure the prez plays a key role of upholding the constitutional processes, but, unless there is an emergency, the president does not need to pull any rabbits out of their hat. So, what do you do after you have settled down in your job? Scale new heights...literally?
But really, what was the motive behind riding a Sukhoi? It could not be a political statement (except help raise Left's eyebrows), no sir. Once in office, our president hardly need make any political manoeuvers unless instigated by a drastic turn of events- man made or otherwise. Officially, there is no obligation to prove geriatric fitness for aeronautical worklife. Maybe there is such a thing as first ladies' and gents' club out there that I am not aware of that is trying to set precedents for presidents.
At the end of the sortie, the president clarified that while she is (now, all the more) confident that women can do it (a Sukhoi-esque task), she would rather the government sorted out the moral and social feasibility of letting women into active fighter-jet airtime combat duty. From what I gathered from an ex-army lady, most countries, India included, are not there yet. So, it could not be about encouraging women into the armed forces, could it? If it is, then it is pretty expensive advertisement.
What could the common man be thinking? While we are blown away by our president's gutsiness, are masses thinking whether they will get blown away to bits in an act of alien cowardice. While lucky officials relish unusually fantastic funflights, do masses wonder where the next meal will come from, will their hut survive the next floods or their fields the next drought? Does the middle class wonder whether Earth is turning lunar the way potholes on roads expand and vehicles jump over metro construction debris as if locomoting in 1/6th gravity? What are all those cabinet ministers, MPs and MLAs thinking about the austerity measures government was insisting upon, oh so loudly, just weeks ago? May be they think they should tweet more often?
At an individual level, there is awe, respect and some green eye here. But seriously, what was the president doing in a Sukhoi? The president, having conquered the G-forces now wishes to break the sound barrier. I hope the voice of concern of the masses reaches the president's ears at the speed of sound.
"Confusious (sic) say: President that break sound barrier, going too fast for its people"
But, what was the president doing in a Sukhoi in the first place? Is this the 21st century version of the traditional guard of honour inspection? May be it is one of the perks of being a president in a non-federal democracy. I am sure the prez plays a key role of upholding the constitutional processes, but, unless there is an emergency, the president does not need to pull any rabbits out of their hat. So, what do you do after you have settled down in your job? Scale new heights...literally?
But really, what was the motive behind riding a Sukhoi? It could not be a political statement (except help raise Left's eyebrows), no sir. Once in office, our president hardly need make any political manoeuvers unless instigated by a drastic turn of events- man made or otherwise. Officially, there is no obligation to prove geriatric fitness for aeronautical worklife. Maybe there is such a thing as first ladies' and gents' club out there that I am not aware of that is trying to set precedents for presidents.
At the end of the sortie, the president clarified that while she is (now, all the more) confident that women can do it (a Sukhoi-esque task), she would rather the government sorted out the moral and social feasibility of letting women into active fighter-jet airtime combat duty. From what I gathered from an ex-army lady, most countries, India included, are not there yet. So, it could not be about encouraging women into the armed forces, could it? If it is, then it is pretty expensive advertisement.
What could the common man be thinking? While we are blown away by our president's gutsiness, are masses thinking whether they will get blown away to bits in an act of alien cowardice. While lucky officials relish unusually fantastic funflights, do masses wonder where the next meal will come from, will their hut survive the next floods or their fields the next drought? Does the middle class wonder whether Earth is turning lunar the way potholes on roads expand and vehicles jump over metro construction debris as if locomoting in 1/6th gravity? What are all those cabinet ministers, MPs and MLAs thinking about the austerity measures government was insisting upon, oh so loudly, just weeks ago? May be they think they should tweet more often?
At an individual level, there is awe, respect and some green eye here. But seriously, what was the president doing in a Sukhoi? The president, having conquered the G-forces now wishes to break the sound barrier. I hope the voice of concern of the masses reaches the president's ears at the speed of sound.
"Confusious (sic) say: President that break sound barrier, going too fast for its people"
2009-08-21
Spook of numbers and names
Let me first confess that I am posting this stranded at a domestic airport in a city which is usually in the news for being lashed by rains. This time, however, force majeure in The Capital has impelled me to look for something to do for two hours in an airport that has very little to offer by way of anything to do. There is a massage parlour;'Massage, My foot!', I think.
If there were a South East Asian kitchen here, I would have relished each bite knowing very well that the voice that beckons me to the airplane (and always makes the mistake of putting kindness in the wrong place saying "all passengers are kindly requested to proceed toward the aircraft") will not wake up for sometime. But alas, there is only junk food all around. The vending machine has only magazines from God's Own Country (and I am nowhere near there). Thank heavens for little mercies such as wireless broadband.
Anyway, talking about coincidences...
A few months back, I joined a company the name of which shares most of its characters with the name of my previous employer(Note: Each has its own place and brand in the industry and it is a part of my job to make sure my current one shines brighter). The initials of names of the companies are the same. The last building I worked in the last job carries the same name as one of two office building I shuttle between nowadays. Remember, I am talking about two different cities here, my stay separated by a year and a half.
Last year, a new generation of car got introduced and it caught my fancy. Even though I knew very well that I would be graduating in a downswing year, I developed a progressively stronger desire to possess one. My wise wife brought me back to reality. But by then I had already mail-ordered the car brochure to our address in the campus. You can say that the intent to buy the car was established. It was about this time last year. Anyway, in the milieu of hectic job search, all was forgotten. One year hence... I have rented (rented) a home and bought (hypothecated) a new car. Both will 'arrive' next week. Why am I ranting about all this?
Coincidences continue- both the car and the complex that I have rented share a part of the name. But that's not what excites me the most. A couple of days back, my wife just pointed out to me that the 'door number' of the house we are moving into is the same as that we had last rented.(The same one to where I ordered the car brochure).
So, if you get the flow some names and numbers have been chasing me for a year and a half. Somehow they have gotten linked across months and places. It is like being in a continuum of numbers and names across time and space. Some of this has bothering me. For someone who believes in astronomical alignments, this will be a minuscule case study. For someone likes numbers, this is a good example of statistical congregation of sorts. For someone who believes that inner and probably sublime processes of the mind driving man's actions (a la Freud, who said there are no accidental actions?) I am really getting it going, isn't it?
But, darn.. maybe it is just that the airport is getting to me and that I am a little desperate, not having posted in a long time.
Ah, there it is.. the voice "All passengers are kindly requested to proceed toward the aircraft". The kindness of this public address is indeed painful.
If there were a South East Asian kitchen here, I would have relished each bite knowing very well that the voice that beckons me to the airplane (and always makes the mistake of putting kindness in the wrong place saying "all passengers are kindly requested to proceed toward the aircraft") will not wake up for sometime. But alas, there is only junk food all around. The vending machine has only magazines from God's Own Country (and I am nowhere near there). Thank heavens for little mercies such as wireless broadband.
Anyway, talking about coincidences...
A few months back, I joined a company the name of which shares most of its characters with the name of my previous employer(Note: Each has its own place and brand in the industry and it is a part of my job to make sure my current one shines brighter). The initials of names of the companies are the same. The last building I worked in the last job carries the same name as one of two office building I shuttle between nowadays. Remember, I am talking about two different cities here, my stay separated by a year and a half.
Last year, a new generation of car got introduced and it caught my fancy. Even though I knew very well that I would be graduating in a downswing year, I developed a progressively stronger desire to possess one. My wise wife brought me back to reality. But by then I had already mail-ordered the car brochure to our address in the campus. You can say that the intent to buy the car was established. It was about this time last year. Anyway, in the milieu of hectic job search, all was forgotten. One year hence... I have rented (rented) a home and bought (hypothecated) a new car. Both will 'arrive' next week. Why am I ranting about all this?
Coincidences continue- both the car and the complex that I have rented share a part of the name. But that's not what excites me the most. A couple of days back, my wife just pointed out to me that the 'door number' of the house we are moving into is the same as that we had last rented.(The same one to where I ordered the car brochure).
So, if you get the flow some names and numbers have been chasing me for a year and a half. Somehow they have gotten linked across months and places. It is like being in a continuum of numbers and names across time and space. Some of this has bothering me. For someone who believes in astronomical alignments, this will be a minuscule case study. For someone likes numbers, this is a good example of statistical congregation of sorts. For someone who believes that inner and probably sublime processes of the mind driving man's actions (a la Freud, who said there are no accidental actions?) I am really getting it going, isn't it?
But, darn.. maybe it is just that the airport is getting to me and that I am a little desperate, not having posted in a long time.
Ah, there it is.. the voice "All passengers are kindly requested to proceed toward the aircraft". The kindness of this public address is indeed painful.
2009-06-21
Up and down in Mumbai
Mumbai, the big city of India, teaches you something new every day. The last six weeks have been full of hopes rising up and hopes falling down, traveling up and down, moving up and down and looking up and down.
For the most part of last three weeks, the small talk has revolved around the delayed onset of monsoons. Wiping beads of sweat off their foreheads, people glance up at the sky and shake their heads down in disbelief that rains have beaten them in to the sultry mid-summer. Kids though too happy to go back to school, also probably wonder when it will be called off for a day or two when the waters enshroud the roads and bring productivity of the city down.
My second day in Mumbai was spent learning firsthand the vicissitudes of life on a ‘local’. My local batch mates from IIMA-PGPX had planned a meeting, it so happened, on the day after I landed here. Living with a few relatives until I moved into the company guest house, I was left to figure out how I could negotiate the forty kilometer distance from uptown Borivali to downtown Colaba. The first evening I watched trains at Borivali station cough out people in a hurry and suck in people in a hurry. Two and a half decades back, as a kid, watching trains was apparently an obsession with me. After work, my parents would take me to the nearest level crossing where we would watch trains until they got bored or I stopped jumping with joy, or both. Watching what was going on in the Mumbai local station did not bring up any of those fond memories. Anyway, I had a task to do the next day and my wife’s cousin and uncle had one of their own that day. They had to ensure that their esteemed (tch! tch!) relative was well taken care of and trained enough to travel safely up and down the busy chest of the big city. The next day, while I had no problem getting to Churchgate, on the way back, I learned not to underestimate statements made with respect to the local. I had been warned 'let the Virar local go, you have to take the Borivali local'. But, I thought that warning was too much to be taken seriously at midnight. The Virar passengers take it to their heart that someone would take a Virar local to Borivali when the latter has a train all to itself, last stop Borivali. And they showed this to me the hard way. The carriage full of people standing on each other’s feet, would only allow people in and refused to let me out. (Stepping out and into locals is not how it works in India's city that never sleeps) Jumping out of a train slowing gathering speed, I learned it is never too late (read as never too restful) on a Mumbai local, time of the night notwithstanding.
Lifts, the ones that take you up and down, of all kinds is another thing that one needs to get used to in the Big Apple of India. Tall buildings are not built to impress; they are built to sustain. Sustain the ever growing population of the city that shelters (or not) the fourteen million aspirants and the arrived. But unlike many other cities, Mumbai had learnt many decades ago that it needed high rises. Hence, the variety of lifts in the variety of buildings. The modern one in our office is not always as predictable as the old collapsible-grill kind in the guest house building. The former, though computerized (ahem!) has a mind of its own. Back at the guest house, one has to remember that the lift is not automatic. And this learning did not come to me automatically. One evening, a bunch of kids rushed in shouting ‘wait, lift, uncle, wait’ (or was it ‘wait, lift-uncle, wait’?). I smiled and opened the door. The little people took over the charge of lift operations. They pressed some number and I said ‘Six please’. The little girl did not respond. So, I looked down at her and said ‘Six please’. A little irritated, she looked up at me and said ‘Uncle, this is not automatic. You press Six after we go out’.
Like I said, Mumbai (small or big) teaches you something every day.
For the most part of last three weeks, the small talk has revolved around the delayed onset of monsoons. Wiping beads of sweat off their foreheads, people glance up at the sky and shake their heads down in disbelief that rains have beaten them in to the sultry mid-summer. Kids though too happy to go back to school, also probably wonder when it will be called off for a day or two when the waters enshroud the roads and bring productivity of the city down.
My second day in Mumbai was spent learning firsthand the vicissitudes of life on a ‘local’. My local batch mates from IIMA-PGPX had planned a meeting, it so happened, on the day after I landed here. Living with a few relatives until I moved into the company guest house, I was left to figure out how I could negotiate the forty kilometer distance from uptown Borivali to downtown Colaba. The first evening I watched trains at Borivali station cough out people in a hurry and suck in people in a hurry. Two and a half decades back, as a kid, watching trains was apparently an obsession with me. After work, my parents would take me to the nearest level crossing where we would watch trains until they got bored or I stopped jumping with joy, or both. Watching what was going on in the Mumbai local station did not bring up any of those fond memories. Anyway, I had a task to do the next day and my wife’s cousin and uncle had one of their own that day. They had to ensure that their esteemed (tch! tch!) relative was well taken care of and trained enough to travel safely up and down the busy chest of the big city. The next day, while I had no problem getting to Churchgate, on the way back, I learned not to underestimate statements made with respect to the local. I had been warned 'let the Virar local go, you have to take the Borivali local'. But, I thought that warning was too much to be taken seriously at midnight. The Virar passengers take it to their heart that someone would take a Virar local to Borivali when the latter has a train all to itself, last stop Borivali. And they showed this to me the hard way. The carriage full of people standing on each other’s feet, would only allow people in and refused to let me out. (Stepping out and into locals is not how it works in India's city that never sleeps) Jumping out of a train slowing gathering speed, I learned it is never too late (read as never too restful) on a Mumbai local, time of the night notwithstanding.
Lifts, the ones that take you up and down, of all kinds is another thing that one needs to get used to in the Big Apple of India. Tall buildings are not built to impress; they are built to sustain. Sustain the ever growing population of the city that shelters (or not) the fourteen million aspirants and the arrived. But unlike many other cities, Mumbai had learnt many decades ago that it needed high rises. Hence, the variety of lifts in the variety of buildings. The modern one in our office is not always as predictable as the old collapsible-grill kind in the guest house building. The former, though computerized (ahem!) has a mind of its own. Back at the guest house, one has to remember that the lift is not automatic. And this learning did not come to me automatically. One evening, a bunch of kids rushed in shouting ‘wait, lift, uncle, wait’ (or was it ‘wait, lift-uncle, wait’?). I smiled and opened the door. The little people took over the charge of lift operations. They pressed some number and I said ‘Six please’. The little girl did not respond. So, I looked down at her and said ‘Six please’. A little irritated, she looked up at me and said ‘Uncle, this is not automatic. You press Six after we go out’.
Like I said, Mumbai (small or big) teaches you something every day.
2009-01-07
"The truth comes out when growth stops"
It was quite remarkable (yet sad) that just at the start of the fourth class of our course on Corporate Governance -where we were to discuss the article "Directors' new clothes"- the story 'Raju admits fraud' broke. Even before the course started, we were assured by the professor that the Maytas-Satyam fiasco would be a case study in action. Little did we imagine that bigger waves were travelling in our direction. As our professor tagged it, this is nothing short of a "Corporate Tsunami".
Read Raju's 'confession' here
While a rather sad one given the magnitude of the situation- impacting about 50000 employees and hundreds of thousands of retail shareholders, reputation of the offshoring industry at large etc- this is as real time as a case study discussion can get. While learning the processes of the board of directors, it is difficult to believe Raju's claim that no one in the board had a hold on the financial statements. What was the audit committee doing?
The revelations include an overstatement of cash on balance sheets of more than a billion and a half dollars. It should to be noted is that it was cash that was overstated. It is befuddling that they could manage to do that for several years.
Quoting our professor- 'Truth has to come out when growth stops' one must recognise the weight of this statement. Driven by short term growth targets, there is a small (or large?) component of 'catching up with your claims'. In the sense that you provide guidance based on projected growth. You show accrued income based on trust that remittances will follow. But at some points if your financials had reached a level of fiction that is unrecoverable, you have to start losing the chasing game and, then, when the flow of cash depletes as would happen in a slowdown, the litmus changes colors.
While facts ought to follow soon, there is very little left to imagine whether the company could have done this without the support of the auditors.Two-thirds of the assets (cash) never existed? How can you drag that on for years? What were the auditors (a big one too) thinking while passing the quarterly reports? What about bankers who would no doubt be carrying Satyam's annual reports under their pillows?
The showdown has just begun when it comes to India Inc taking a beating on credibility and corporate reputation. While it is true that this could have happened to any company in India, it has happened to one in the IT industry. Barring few notable exceptions in conglomerates in traditional business, largely IT companies were supposed to be largely clean and transparent. This perception comes from the fact that IT companies dealing with US companies or listed in the US need to adhere to SEC requirements and regulatory standards. Additionally, the company had won Golden Peacock in the recent past. Obviously, this again proves that awards do not build public trust and corporate reputation but a past track record of responsible action does.
Is there a systemic issue in how audits are conducted? As SG, one of our classmates, asked of the professor- Given US has failed to put an airtight seal on financial failures, does India have the wherewithal to implement checks and balances in place to avoid such incidents in the future?
What about the risk to Indian outsourcing industry? Given that this question is raised, what will the Government of India do, as in really do about the irregularities in the system?
PS: This is also a test for the logic of 'Wisdom of the crowds'. Some companies (including midcap) whose numbers growth, in the past, have run into public suspicion radar are already being dumped by investors. In the last few hours, each of these companies' stocks have lost about 25%. So, is the market always right? Are there more skeletons in the cupboard waiting to roll out?
Read Raju's 'confession' here
While a rather sad one given the magnitude of the situation- impacting about 50000 employees and hundreds of thousands of retail shareholders, reputation of the offshoring industry at large etc- this is as real time as a case study discussion can get. While learning the processes of the board of directors, it is difficult to believe Raju's claim that no one in the board had a hold on the financial statements. What was the audit committee doing?
The revelations include an overstatement of cash on balance sheets of more than a billion and a half dollars. It should to be noted is that it was cash that was overstated. It is befuddling that they could manage to do that for several years.
Quoting our professor- 'Truth has to come out when growth stops' one must recognise the weight of this statement. Driven by short term growth targets, there is a small (or large?) component of 'catching up with your claims'. In the sense that you provide guidance based on projected growth. You show accrued income based on trust that remittances will follow. But at some points if your financials had reached a level of fiction that is unrecoverable, you have to start losing the chasing game and, then, when the flow of cash depletes as would happen in a slowdown, the litmus changes colors.
While facts ought to follow soon, there is very little left to imagine whether the company could have done this without the support of the auditors.Two-thirds of the assets (cash) never existed? How can you drag that on for years? What were the auditors (a big one too) thinking while passing the quarterly reports? What about bankers who would no doubt be carrying Satyam's annual reports under their pillows?
The showdown has just begun when it comes to India Inc taking a beating on credibility and corporate reputation. While it is true that this could have happened to any company in India, it has happened to one in the IT industry. Barring few notable exceptions in conglomerates in traditional business, largely IT companies were supposed to be largely clean and transparent. This perception comes from the fact that IT companies dealing with US companies or listed in the US need to adhere to SEC requirements and regulatory standards. Additionally, the company had won Golden Peacock in the recent past. Obviously, this again proves that awards do not build public trust and corporate reputation but a past track record of responsible action does.
Is there a systemic issue in how audits are conducted? As SG, one of our classmates, asked of the professor- Given US has failed to put an airtight seal on financial failures, does India have the wherewithal to implement checks and balances in place to avoid such incidents in the future?
What about the risk to Indian outsourcing industry? Given that this question is raised, what will the Government of India do, as in really do about the irregularities in the system?
PS: This is also a test for the logic of 'Wisdom of the crowds'. Some companies (including midcap) whose numbers growth, in the past, have run into public suspicion radar are already being dumped by investors. In the last few hours, each of these companies' stocks have lost about 25%. So, is the market always right? Are there more skeletons in the cupboard waiting to roll out?
2009-01-04
Man from Earth
I want to believe John. I am drawn to the the late writer Jerome Bixby's idea of truth. The movie itself, thanks to director Richard Schenkman, has a Knight Shyamlansque twist that has to be seen to be relished.
The movie starts with a coterie of colleagues pouring into the house of a professor who has unexpectedly decided to retire young. They try to understand where he is going, what he plans to do but cannot go far with it. Instead, based on what the professor first poses as a hypothetical questions- Would you believe if you met someone who has lived 14000 years?- the farewell party turns into a series of discussions that pick your brain. The professor tells them that he is a Cro-magnon cave man and had stopped aging when he reached 35 years of age. Since then, he has been trying to move around, learn and live with the fact. To cover his tracks and appear natural to those around him, he moves on every ten years.
While highly, and naturally so, sceptical about what the professor is saying- first that he is a cave man and then that he has had the opportunity to spend time with historical luminaries with omnipresent fame, the illustrious academicians play along and ask questions. They do this a half out of academic curiosity and a half out of trying to catch John's give away. That they do not succeed in the latter is predictable.
But, along the way in about 90 minutes of the movie very interesting possibilities open up and the fundamental questions get asked. While the movie set itself does not ,mostly, take you beyond the confines of the professor's living room, a part of your mind is racing at the intensity of what is being said. Issues around history, biology, psychology, arts, ethics, morality and faith get raised. A faith shattering revelation has the group divided over the rightness (not validity) of John's 'hypothetical' actions and a theological literist in tears. As he rolls on with his childhood memories, growth and eons of learning thereafter, your imagination runs amuck with scenes of how John's past could have been . The icing on the cake is a poetic end of the movie that works on the psychologist colleague who had lost his wife the previous night.
Like I said, I wanted to believe the story. I was trying to think if I have met someone that could fit into the profile of John Oldman. I think the script has that quality of playing on your innermost desire to know the truth and therefore to wish that John's is a real story. After all it could provide you with a part explanation of the world around you and before you.
Come to think of it, we never really notice much around us. Much less someone who only is trying to remain inconspicuous by purpose. Is John Oldman the quintessential cellophane man; who is our patch to the past yet trying to remain invisible. Moving on as the patch becomes a fix. It is easy to not know a cellphane man.
Is John Oldman representative of the generational cultures? Cultures, traditions and rituals have changed over the ages and they are doing so increasingly fast every few years, nowadays.
How many times has John told his story? Does it always end the same way? Does any one ever believe him? I want to but probably I wouldn't too; it is far too much unsettling to the rational basis of the systematic, yet incomplete, picture of the universe I have in me. But how much of anything do we really ever know?
Does John exist as a periodic reality check to see if faith, in the larger sense of the term, is sustaining? What would happen if he is able to convince everyone that he is indeed who is claims to be? Would the 'rational' among us cut him up to validate his claims? Would the 'faithful' among us test him by fire to see if he is pure and holy? After all in the largely faithless and cynical world of today, would even god not need to pass the test of fire, if he were to appear before us?
I filter movies from IMDB (www.imdb.com) and unless a movie has been recommended highly by someone, I wouldn't watch it if the score is less than 7.0. I noticed that as of this posting, the movie has an 8.2 from about 20000 people. Now, I know why.
Scores apart, this movie will stay with me for quite sometime.
Happy new year 2009!
The movie starts with a coterie of colleagues pouring into the house of a professor who has unexpectedly decided to retire young. They try to understand where he is going, what he plans to do but cannot go far with it. Instead, based on what the professor first poses as a hypothetical questions- Would you believe if you met someone who has lived 14000 years?- the farewell party turns into a series of discussions that pick your brain. The professor tells them that he is a Cro-magnon cave man and had stopped aging when he reached 35 years of age. Since then, he has been trying to move around, learn and live with the fact. To cover his tracks and appear natural to those around him, he moves on every ten years.
While highly, and naturally so, sceptical about what the professor is saying- first that he is a cave man and then that he has had the opportunity to spend time with historical luminaries with omnipresent fame, the illustrious academicians play along and ask questions. They do this a half out of academic curiosity and a half out of trying to catch John's give away. That they do not succeed in the latter is predictable.
But, along the way in about 90 minutes of the movie very interesting possibilities open up and the fundamental questions get asked. While the movie set itself does not ,mostly, take you beyond the confines of the professor's living room, a part of your mind is racing at the intensity of what is being said. Issues around history, biology, psychology, arts, ethics, morality and faith get raised. A faith shattering revelation has the group divided over the rightness (not validity) of John's 'hypothetical' actions and a theological literist in tears. As he rolls on with his childhood memories, growth and eons of learning thereafter, your imagination runs amuck with scenes of how John's past could have been . The icing on the cake is a poetic end of the movie that works on the psychologist colleague who had lost his wife the previous night.
Like I said, I wanted to believe the story. I was trying to think if I have met someone that could fit into the profile of John Oldman. I think the script has that quality of playing on your innermost desire to know the truth and therefore to wish that John's is a real story. After all it could provide you with a part explanation of the world around you and before you.
Come to think of it, we never really notice much around us. Much less someone who only is trying to remain inconspicuous by purpose. Is John Oldman the quintessential cellophane man; who is our patch to the past yet trying to remain invisible. Moving on as the patch becomes a fix. It is easy to not know a cellphane man.
Is John Oldman representative of the generational cultures? Cultures, traditions and rituals have changed over the ages and they are doing so increasingly fast every few years, nowadays.
How many times has John told his story? Does it always end the same way? Does any one ever believe him? I want to but probably I wouldn't too; it is far too much unsettling to the rational basis of the systematic, yet incomplete, picture of the universe I have in me. But how much of anything do we really ever know?
Does John exist as a periodic reality check to see if faith, in the larger sense of the term, is sustaining? What would happen if he is able to convince everyone that he is indeed who is claims to be? Would the 'rational' among us cut him up to validate his claims? Would the 'faithful' among us test him by fire to see if he is pure and holy? After all in the largely faithless and cynical world of today, would even god not need to pass the test of fire, if he were to appear before us?
I filter movies from IMDB (www.imdb.com) and unless a movie has been recommended highly by someone, I wouldn't watch it if the score is less than 7.0. I noticed that as of this posting, the movie has an 8.2 from about 20000 people. Now, I know why.
Scores apart, this movie will stay with me for quite sometime.
Happy new year 2009!
2008-08-26
Review of Cesky Sen
Saying that the directors, Vit Kusak and Filip Remunda, only intended to pull an April Fool's day prank on 10 million people would obviously be too perfunctory an observation. Pronounced "chess-key sen", the movie literally, 'Czech Dream', is a wonderfully directed documentary comedy on one hand and a reality show on the other. The power of consumerism can be tested in different ways and media's overpowering influence used to make people do things is what the movie primarily tells you.
Two students of Czech Film Academy, by way of their final year project, test the concept of modern consumerism that embodies the notion that a lot of fact is really only part truth when it comes to media campaigning. Their movie is a satirical corroboration to this notion by trying to prove that they can successfully create a 'bubble' out of thin air and make people believe it is real. They do this by conceptualising a hypermarket that will improve the lifestyle of the Czech public with a promise of low prices, great offers and a dream shopping experience. They do this with sponsorships from a top luxury apparel brand house, a media company (who have differences with the directors' motives on ethical grounds but choose to be professional and do the job anyway for the learning it would provide), real market surveys (this part is a small treat for marketing students) with real families and volunteers and before all this even a grant for making the movie from the nation's Ministry of Culture.
The whole process is documented in this film with superb music; a melodious mix of directed music as well as impromptu responses from the public. The 'Hey ho!' is still haunting me as I write this. The music is also a part of the publicity campaign that is both no holds barred 'corporate' as well as replete with double entendres of carefully chosen words- 'Don't bother', 'don't wait', 'don't shop' etc. There is no escaping from the deluge of messages that the dream supermarket ad campaign provides- TV, Radio, fliers, public interviews etc and the public chases the dream to its ribbon cutting ceremony.
In the course of the movie, the directors themselves learn a lot about the science and art behind the marketing promotion of a hyper market. With clothes borrowed from the sponser, they appear in publicity campaigns featuring as the managers of the 'Czech Dream' hypermarket in Prague (whose location they do not reveal till the very end of the campaign). What happens next is an easy guess on most groundsm especially the reactions of the ropable crowd of 'shoppers who meet the surprise'. But some responses from the calm people there are surprising and insightful toward the motives of the directors.
The movie is well cinematographed, even if in 'no glamour, only documentary' style. The music, the script and the natural responses from the unsuspecting participants is quite moving yet funny.The movie was shot, read as the 'dream scam' was played, a few months before the European Union referendum was signed by the people of Czech Republic.The movie aimed to raise questions in the people's mind by brining more people face to face with the need to take a careful look at the national media campaign to vote in favour of joining the EU.
To a marketing student Cesky Sen reiterates that when consumer expectations clash with reality the result is not always pleasant either for the marketer or for the consumer if there is a gap beyond the lattitude of acceptance by the consumer. Like any caricature, the gap is accentuated in the movie. This is a point well made by the award winning directors who have been acclaimed to have a promising future based on the critical success- not sure of the box office success- of their debut venture.
Two students of Czech Film Academy, by way of their final year project, test the concept of modern consumerism that embodies the notion that a lot of fact is really only part truth when it comes to media campaigning. Their movie is a satirical corroboration to this notion by trying to prove that they can successfully create a 'bubble' out of thin air and make people believe it is real. They do this by conceptualising a hypermarket that will improve the lifestyle of the Czech public with a promise of low prices, great offers and a dream shopping experience. They do this with sponsorships from a top luxury apparel brand house, a media company (who have differences with the directors' motives on ethical grounds but choose to be professional and do the job anyway for the learning it would provide), real market surveys (this part is a small treat for marketing students) with real families and volunteers and before all this even a grant for making the movie from the nation's Ministry of Culture.
The whole process is documented in this film with superb music; a melodious mix of directed music as well as impromptu responses from the public. The 'Hey ho!' is still haunting me as I write this. The music is also a part of the publicity campaign that is both no holds barred 'corporate' as well as replete with double entendres of carefully chosen words- 'Don't bother', 'don't wait', 'don't shop' etc. There is no escaping from the deluge of messages that the dream supermarket ad campaign provides- TV, Radio, fliers, public interviews etc and the public chases the dream to its ribbon cutting ceremony.
In the course of the movie, the directors themselves learn a lot about the science and art behind the marketing promotion of a hyper market. With clothes borrowed from the sponser, they appear in publicity campaigns featuring as the managers of the 'Czech Dream' hypermarket in Prague (whose location they do not reveal till the very end of the campaign). What happens next is an easy guess on most groundsm especially the reactions of the ropable crowd of 'shoppers who meet the surprise'. But some responses from the calm people there are surprising and insightful toward the motives of the directors.
The movie is well cinematographed, even if in 'no glamour, only documentary' style. The music, the script and the natural responses from the unsuspecting participants is quite moving yet funny.The movie was shot, read as the 'dream scam' was played, a few months before the European Union referendum was signed by the people of Czech Republic.The movie aimed to raise questions in the people's mind by brining more people face to face with the need to take a careful look at the national media campaign to vote in favour of joining the EU.
To a marketing student Cesky Sen reiterates that when consumer expectations clash with reality the result is not always pleasant either for the marketer or for the consumer if there is a gap beyond the lattitude of acceptance by the consumer. Like any caricature, the gap is accentuated in the movie. This is a point well made by the award winning directors who have been acclaimed to have a promising future based on the critical success- not sure of the box office success- of their debut venture.
2008-08-01
Gatecrashers unlimited
"Come on man, where will you get this chance again..." by the young-at-heart and fun-loving and older-than-me VM was evidently enough to get me into gatecrashing into an MDP party on campus! For those who know me well, this is not quite how I like to do things. The question of gatecrashing into a party of strangers would normally be out of question.
The second term has been quite a ride. It began with a slow pace of classes. Since the PGPs came back to school after their summers around the same time that our second term started, our profs have been pulled in different directions leaving considerable void now and full capacity later in our class schedules. This has at least helped us catch up on as many as three hard bound books on strategy and leadership that are a part of required reading over and above the course material. At best it given us time to think about what we want to be doing at the end of 8 months.
The roller coaster that the first term was landed us right into a drag pool of water and it took us a couple of weeks to get used to the slow pace. I say this despite having already written a couple of mid terms and surprise tests and innumerable reports. The action started with our place comm asking us to build a wish list of companies that we want to individually consider. That information would form the basis of the efforts that team would spend in its mission to getting us what we want (not need!). Having gone into a pensive mood and out, we have probably been trying to make the best of the time we have around here; the current macroeconomic and political situation of the nation notwithstanding.
No wonder then that talents have been tumbling out of the wardrobes of many people. In preparation of TNite (The traditionally PGP T-Nite has since PGPX's inception included the latter in its scheme), ideas on posters, themes, skits, songs, shouts, music and even nicknames are pouring out for what the batch wants to make an unforgettable week. In that spirit, I have been sketching and painting with oil pastels, something I have not done in the last eighteen years or more. My wife has been getting her hands dirty with camel skin bristles and Camel Oil paint. Quite a cocktail it is when we play 'Comfortably Numb' and 'Shine on' while making pencil marks on the drawing cardboard.
In the midst of all this happy commotion 'normal life' goes on. It being TGIF meant that SP and I spent our evening in VM's room with high spirits and over an HBO (etc.) movie. This goes on till dinner time after which we go to the dining hall and then home (to our families). Today, by the time we finished the movie, it was about 9:27 PM, three minutes before close of dinner. It was raining when we made a 300 meter dash to the dining hall and sprinted up to the first floor.
But in this rush, we did not miss the disco lights and loud music playing in the ground floor dining hall. Seated upstairs we could feel the high decibel bass vibrations. That was when VM suggested that we join the party after dinner. I reminded him that we did not have an invitation. He said that I was missing the point and added what I said at the beginning of this story. If he says," I have done this a hundred times. It will be fun", I can think it is a trap or I can simply believe him. I was almost sure we would invite dirty looks and VM that we would be welcome.
VM was right. During the course of 70 minutes of shaking and moving to the music, we were made to feel that we were indeed welcome and that the last-day-of-MDP crowd was glad to have us fill up their dance floor. A couple of guys from our batch, who joined us, left within a few minutes. Our Cultural Rep, TJ, was aghast at seeing us there. She had been attracted to the music and was there on the agenda of probably striking a deal with the DJ. In any case, our efforts to get her into the crowd were futile. I sweated out the high spirits and cool down the stressed out mind and body. When the DJ unplugged the music system, we thanked the MDP folks for letting us gatecrash. They said they had fun and wished us well for the rest our the eight months at PGPX. Apparently, a month of case studies had done them in and they were glad to be going home.
I totally enjoyed the evening. After all, the best things in life are 'illegal', 'illicit' and ephemeral!
The second term has been quite a ride. It began with a slow pace of classes. Since the PGPs came back to school after their summers around the same time that our second term started, our profs have been pulled in different directions leaving considerable void now and full capacity later in our class schedules. This has at least helped us catch up on as many as three hard bound books on strategy and leadership that are a part of required reading over and above the course material. At best it given us time to think about what we want to be doing at the end of 8 months.
The roller coaster that the first term was landed us right into a drag pool of water and it took us a couple of weeks to get used to the slow pace. I say this despite having already written a couple of mid terms and surprise tests and innumerable reports. The action started with our place comm asking us to build a wish list of companies that we want to individually consider. That information would form the basis of the efforts that team would spend in its mission to getting us what we want (not need!). Having gone into a pensive mood and out, we have probably been trying to make the best of the time we have around here; the current macroeconomic and political situation of the nation notwithstanding.
No wonder then that talents have been tumbling out of the wardrobes of many people. In preparation of TNite (The traditionally PGP T-Nite has since PGPX's inception included the latter in its scheme), ideas on posters, themes, skits, songs, shouts, music and even nicknames are pouring out for what the batch wants to make an unforgettable week. In that spirit, I have been sketching and painting with oil pastels, something I have not done in the last eighteen years or more. My wife has been getting her hands dirty with camel skin bristles and Camel Oil paint. Quite a cocktail it is when we play 'Comfortably Numb' and 'Shine on' while making pencil marks on the drawing cardboard.
In the midst of all this happy commotion 'normal life' goes on. It being TGIF meant that SP and I spent our evening in VM's room with high spirits and over an HBO (etc.) movie. This goes on till dinner time after which we go to the dining hall and then home (to our families). Today, by the time we finished the movie, it was about 9:27 PM, three minutes before close of dinner. It was raining when we made a 300 meter dash to the dining hall and sprinted up to the first floor.
But in this rush, we did not miss the disco lights and loud music playing in the ground floor dining hall. Seated upstairs we could feel the high decibel bass vibrations. That was when VM suggested that we join the party after dinner. I reminded him that we did not have an invitation. He said that I was missing the point and added what I said at the beginning of this story. If he says," I have done this a hundred times. It will be fun", I can think it is a trap or I can simply believe him. I was almost sure we would invite dirty looks and VM that we would be welcome.
VM was right. During the course of 70 minutes of shaking and moving to the music, we were made to feel that we were indeed welcome and that the last-day-of-MDP crowd was glad to have us fill up their dance floor. A couple of guys from our batch, who joined us, left within a few minutes. Our Cultural Rep, TJ, was aghast at seeing us there. She had been attracted to the music and was there on the agenda of probably striking a deal with the DJ. In any case, our efforts to get her into the crowd were futile. I sweated out the high spirits and cool down the stressed out mind and body. When the DJ unplugged the music system, we thanked the MDP folks for letting us gatecrash. They said they had fun and wished us well for the rest our the eight months at PGPX. Apparently, a month of case studies had done them in and they were glad to be going home.
I totally enjoyed the evening. After all, the best things in life are 'illegal', 'illicit' and ephemeral!
2008-06-28
A country, a lecture, a performance.
The spell broke when my classmates started clapping and I joined in the applause. Today's 'open economy macroeconomics' class had just ended.
Evidently, thirty years before I was born had begun a reforms process in India that did not begin to fructify till around the time I had learnt to walk. Growing up, I had developed a vague sense of how the world and the world of business interacted and why it had not done well in the past and why the economy accelerated around the time when I was in high-school.The process continues, albeit with more steam, even as I come back to college after about a decade of corporate life.
While all this was happening, a set of events that several times shook a nation of a billion. There was another set of events that forced a country going in the wrong (in macroeconomics, right and wrong are opinions based on ideology) direction to do a u-turn, in the process starting an economic revolution that is only restrained by the attitude of the elected representatives and their affiliations to power and position (we get the governments we deserve? What must an economist feel if he knows what to do to correct the wrongs, but is tied down by 'the obligations of his position'? What's popular?) Overall, the events were influenced by 'who ruled independent India', what political inclinations they had, some things that are ingrained deep in a 3000 year old culture that is Hinduism, international power polarities and their subsequent realignment etc. There are several other factors that would seem superficial if explained in a hurry, but they all mattered.
In summary, today's lecture related some of the ideologies that have survived 200 years of political testing, 3000 years of cultural testing, responsibilities and constraints of central monetary authorities, 60 years of post-independence struggles, the interdependence of several macroeconomics factors that every government ought to strive to direct (with as much less interference and marginal cost as possible) with some of the known and unknown facts and political opinions that shaped India's daily life over the last six decades. Basically, everything that mattered to the development of the current fiscal and monetary policies was expertly framed in a lecture that was delivered like a story based on numbers and adjectives. The performance was spellbinding. I recall laughing out of professor's wit and admiring his rhetoric several times.
India got revealed between spoken words, a blackboard and insights of a scholar's mind. Seventy five minutes had passed by in a whiff. The cloud of my thoughts and opinions, though, had taken a definite concrete shape. Wow, so that was what they had been talking about all these years!
We have enjoyed several lectures and many more discussions. But on none of them had we conferred an applause, like as if at the end of a performance. This was a first.
I started clapping.
PS: The professor is a permanent faculty at IIMA. Among others, he has been playing the role of an expert adviser to the central government on some of the key initiatives rolled out in the recent past.
Evidently, thirty years before I was born had begun a reforms process in India that did not begin to fructify till around the time I had learnt to walk. Growing up, I had developed a vague sense of how the world and the world of business interacted and why it had not done well in the past and why the economy accelerated around the time when I was in high-school.The process continues, albeit with more steam, even as I come back to college after about a decade of corporate life.
While all this was happening, a set of events that several times shook a nation of a billion. There was another set of events that forced a country going in the wrong (in macroeconomics, right and wrong are opinions based on ideology) direction to do a u-turn, in the process starting an economic revolution that is only restrained by the attitude of the elected representatives and their affiliations to power and position (we get the governments we deserve? What must an economist feel if he knows what to do to correct the wrongs, but is tied down by 'the obligations of his position'? What's popular?) Overall, the events were influenced by 'who ruled independent India', what political inclinations they had, some things that are ingrained deep in a 3000 year old culture that is Hinduism, international power polarities and their subsequent realignment etc. There are several other factors that would seem superficial if explained in a hurry, but they all mattered.
In summary, today's lecture related some of the ideologies that have survived 200 years of political testing, 3000 years of cultural testing, responsibilities and constraints of central monetary authorities, 60 years of post-independence struggles, the interdependence of several macroeconomics factors that every government ought to strive to direct (with as much less interference and marginal cost as possible) with some of the known and unknown facts and political opinions that shaped India's daily life over the last six decades. Basically, everything that mattered to the development of the current fiscal and monetary policies was expertly framed in a lecture that was delivered like a story based on numbers and adjectives. The performance was spellbinding. I recall laughing out of professor's wit and admiring his rhetoric several times.
India got revealed between spoken words, a blackboard and insights of a scholar's mind. Seventy five minutes had passed by in a whiff. The cloud of my thoughts and opinions, though, had taken a definite concrete shape. Wow, so that was what they had been talking about all these years!
We have enjoyed several lectures and many more discussions. But on none of them had we conferred an applause, like as if at the end of a performance. This was a first.
I started clapping.
PS: The professor is a permanent faculty at IIMA. Among others, he has been playing the role of an expert adviser to the central government on some of the key initiatives rolled out in the recent past.
2008-05-19
The light at the end of the tunnel...
Last week a new course on operations started. This course has an acronym which can be easily turned to sound like 'doomed'. Everyone thinks that doomed is what their fate is in grappling with it. In fact, there is a little law that says you are bound to be doomed with it.
The culmination of a week in which a movie played a significant part in-class (did I forget to mention that in the class we saw a short movie on cheetah?), is quite aptly watching a blockbuster at the cinemas. Better still if about seventy adults and children land up at the same hall at the same time. Even better if the movie starts with a C&H comic strip 'What are you doing here? Don't you have homework to do?" Thanks to TJ, our cultural rep, all this was possible last Saturday.
Not having left the campus thresholds for over a week, I was glad I was doing something normal. I am not sure if it was circumstantial, but I thoroughly enjoyed the Iron Man. I thought it would be nice to buy a flying suit, if I could afford one. Impossible is nothing, you know...see the real stuff here.
Coming back to doom, the course requires immense amount of patience and focus (can the two co-exist? We are getting there...) to get through a case. Don't get me wrong. I am not talking about cracking the cases, only about getting through them. So, by Wednesday evening when we were faced with a rather simple doom case that we could solve in an hour, we thought we could hit the bed a couple of hours earlier (say, 2 AM). We saw light at the end of the tunnel. Little did we know that the other asignment with statistics reading was a wolf in dog's clothing. We had to just keep on reading hor hours. By the time we were down to implications of our statistically significant observations, it was tea time in the Chicago.
How do they say that... the light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be a fast moving train? Yeah, and we walked walked right in to it.
The culmination of a week in which a movie played a significant part in-class (did I forget to mention that in the class we saw a short movie on cheetah?), is quite aptly watching a blockbuster at the cinemas. Better still if about seventy adults and children land up at the same hall at the same time. Even better if the movie starts with a C&H comic strip 'What are you doing here? Don't you have homework to do?" Thanks to TJ, our cultural rep, all this was possible last Saturday.
Not having left the campus thresholds for over a week, I was glad I was doing something normal. I am not sure if it was circumstantial, but I thoroughly enjoyed the Iron Man. I thought it would be nice to buy a flying suit, if I could afford one. Impossible is nothing, you know...see the real stuff here.
Coming back to doom, the course requires immense amount of patience and focus (can the two co-exist? We are getting there...) to get through a case. Don't get me wrong. I am not talking about cracking the cases, only about getting through them. So, by Wednesday evening when we were faced with a rather simple doom case that we could solve in an hour, we thought we could hit the bed a couple of hours earlier (say, 2 AM). We saw light at the end of the tunnel. Little did we know that the other asignment with statistics reading was a wolf in dog's clothing. We had to just keep on reading hor hours. By the time we were down to implications of our statistically significant observations, it was tea time in the Chicago.
How do they say that... the light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be a fast moving train? Yeah, and we walked walked right in to it.
2008-05-13
Life is fun(ny)
Things long forgotten have a way of coming back to haunt you. You might even say it is a conspiracy by higher powers and I am at the center of it.
Why else would I need to fret over needing to literally pen down more than half a dozen pages at my age. I am no 'writer'. My profession and office technology have turned me into a "key-er", as I cannot claim to be a typist either. But industry did teach me the value of expectation management. With a handwriting like mine, growing more illegible by the year, I need to set the right expectations. This is what I did before the exam when I asked Dr.SS, TA for our, 'Customer Value' course, about the role of aesthetics of one's handwriting in a b-school exam. I found it comforting to know that 'she has seen all kinds of handwriting'.
It's not like I have not tried to get into the mode of writing more. I have made considerable number of pages of study notes for my course subjects. But how much of a damage of nine years can you reverse in a few weeks; assuming you even let me be the judge of my own handwriting?
I did pull through the three hour case-based exam this afternoon. I was not sure if I could sit that long. One of the reasons I had dreaded GMAT practice tests was their painfully long durations. Initially, after I landed here, I had to fight the urge to get up from my study table and walk around every twenty minutes. On one hand being a manager allows you to have some amount of exemption in having a low attention span. On the other hand multi-tasking required by a manager's role turns that into an asset of sorts. Anyway,another of those things that come back to haunt you are long duration exams.
I think I am developing, subconsciously, a way of creating fun if I do not find some around me. Would you believe I walked out with my answer paper after the open-book exam? I must have inadvertently (no such thing in Freud's world) packed it with my rather tall-and-broad text book. Once the TA found out that one paper was missing, I walked back into the hall to help them sort the confusion out. I am not sure who was laughing and who was relieved on finding out that it was I who had not turned in the answer paper. Since I had been within earshot and eyeshot of Dr.SS and maybe had demonstrated my integrity (now, how do you like that?) in the past that I did not need to sign an 'undertaking' (I did not know such a thing existed).
Like I said, I am finding that the repertoire of stories is steadily growing. Mr.Freud, would you say I am building one? I am not sure, but I do not think, anymore, that many thing will impossibly not happen to me.
A kind of X-files effect? No, let's say it's the PGPX-files effect!
PS: What the online-statuses are looking like today: LC- "Koi lauta de mere beete hue din"; RR-"toommatooeess...."; AA-"Selling Grade "A" tomatoes";
Yours truly- "No Strategy => POD (point of despair-ity)"
Why else would I need to fret over needing to literally pen down more than half a dozen pages at my age. I am no 'writer'. My profession and office technology have turned me into a "key-er", as I cannot claim to be a typist either. But industry did teach me the value of expectation management. With a handwriting like mine, growing more illegible by the year, I need to set the right expectations. This is what I did before the exam when I asked Dr.SS, TA for our, 'Customer Value' course, about the role of aesthetics of one's handwriting in a b-school exam. I found it comforting to know that 'she has seen all kinds of handwriting'.
It's not like I have not tried to get into the mode of writing more. I have made considerable number of pages of study notes for my course subjects. But how much of a damage of nine years can you reverse in a few weeks; assuming you even let me be the judge of my own handwriting?
I did pull through the three hour case-based exam this afternoon. I was not sure if I could sit that long. One of the reasons I had dreaded GMAT practice tests was their painfully long durations. Initially, after I landed here, I had to fight the urge to get up from my study table and walk around every twenty minutes. On one hand being a manager allows you to have some amount of exemption in having a low attention span. On the other hand multi-tasking required by a manager's role turns that into an asset of sorts. Anyway,another of those things that come back to haunt you are long duration exams.
I think I am developing, subconsciously, a way of creating fun if I do not find some around me. Would you believe I walked out with my answer paper after the open-book exam? I must have inadvertently (no such thing in Freud's world) packed it with my rather tall-and-broad text book. Once the TA found out that one paper was missing, I walked back into the hall to help them sort the confusion out. I am not sure who was laughing and who was relieved on finding out that it was I who had not turned in the answer paper. Since I had been within earshot and eyeshot of Dr.SS and maybe had demonstrated my integrity (now, how do you like that?) in the past that I did not need to sign an 'undertaking' (I did not know such a thing existed).
Like I said, I am finding that the repertoire of stories is steadily growing. Mr.Freud, would you say I am building one? I am not sure, but I do not think, anymore, that many thing will impossibly not happen to me.
A kind of X-files effect? No, let's say it's the PGPX-files effect!
PS: What the online-statuses are looking like today: LC- "Koi lauta de mere beete hue din"; RR-"toommatooeess...."; AA-"Selling Grade "A" tomatoes";
Yours truly- "No Strategy => POD (point of despair-ity)"
2008-05-09
On the wings of time
We gave three standing ovations to three professors who have either triggered a changed in the way we think or will be instrumental in changing the way we act. The caveat, of course, is that we follow the messages they delivered. As our OB professor concluded in the last session of her course, 'It depends on your choice!". It was touching to bid adieu to the great minds who made cherished our first encounter with the pressure cooker that WIMWI's pedagogy is.
Tuesday marked the end of the first month of PGPX. In this time, we have completed three courses and started three new ones (while a few others will get replaced soon), and woken up to the fact that the first final exam is on the day after tomorrow. But the fun doesn't end.
We started a course with a given name of 'Modeling for Decision'. 'Decision Modeling' would have worked just fine. The given name is causing me to interchange the order of words. Interchanging words can be disastrous as I realized over a post session conversation. Our professor, NR, thirty years at WIMWI and a doctorate in mathematics, has a very sharp mind. Unless we chase his ideas at the speed of his thought, we see that the multi-dimensional ideas he is spewing out are lost on us. He approaches things with cold logic, is famous for being strict in dealing with 'inferior logic' and merciless in repartee; some have been hopelessly embarrassed in class (to be later cajoled).
Over the post-session tea, I thought I was making sense to the prof. until I heard him say 'Have you considered it, seriously?'. Only then did I realise I had referred to his subject as 'Decision for Modeling' (notice that mislaid 'for'?). I quickly recovered thinking about how bad this could get. I conceded to my error and replied that given my un-toned structure, decide that it would be 'illogical' to proceed with modeling.Thankfully the Prof accepted it with a nod and a smile that told me that he was letting me go easy! I am glad I did not speak on the topic in the class.Class participation can wait!
Like "One, Two, three, times a lady", is there 'one-twelfth an MBA'? You wish!
Tuesday marked the end of the first month of PGPX. In this time, we have completed three courses and started three new ones (while a few others will get replaced soon), and woken up to the fact that the first final exam is on the day after tomorrow. But the fun doesn't end.
We started a course with a given name of 'Modeling for Decision'. 'Decision Modeling' would have worked just fine. The given name is causing me to interchange the order of words. Interchanging words can be disastrous as I realized over a post session conversation. Our professor, NR, thirty years at WIMWI and a doctorate in mathematics, has a very sharp mind. Unless we chase his ideas at the speed of his thought, we see that the multi-dimensional ideas he is spewing out are lost on us. He approaches things with cold logic, is famous for being strict in dealing with 'inferior logic' and merciless in repartee; some have been hopelessly embarrassed in class (to be later cajoled).
Over the post-session tea, I thought I was making sense to the prof. until I heard him say 'Have you considered it, seriously?'. Only then did I realise I had referred to his subject as 'Decision for Modeling' (notice that mislaid 'for'?). I quickly recovered thinking about how bad this could get. I conceded to my error and replied that given my un-toned structure, decide that it would be 'illogical' to proceed with modeling.Thankfully the Prof accepted it with a nod and a smile that told me that he was letting me go easy! I am glad I did not speak on the topic in the class.Class participation can wait!
Like "One, Two, three, times a lady", is there 'one-twelfth an MBA'? You wish!
2008-05-01
The Big Bang Theory
Like many of my friends, I was a day scholar at engineering school.I have been told that there had been a part of engineering school (not people, but life) that was not known to me, or for practical reasons out of bounds to me. I am talking about the world of "hostel-ites", as they were called.
Confined, OK, let me add 'by choice', to the palisades of Vastrapur New Campus, I am now a part of a camaraderie of hostelers.I had been variously told that I had missed out one some part of growing up by not living in a hostel. I was not so sure at the time. OK, sour grapes. I now think that the fact that we sit together and debate over 'business decisions' into wee hours of the evening and rub (all) our noses to the ground over frustratingly ambiguous case studies, weaves around us an invisible thread of fellow feeling.Slowly but surely we are building up a repertoire of stories that we will recall in future.
An unforgettable would be that of the Midnight Blast.
Post dinner, bogged down by an 'Analysis of Data' assignment, we were in the abyss of confusedness when, suddenly, there was a "Bang!". In day time, we've heard rare air-gunshots fired to scare away the hundreds of pigeon that think it is their right to deface, with natural elements, the ornate facade and modernistic walls of The Institute. But an air-gunshot in the middle of the night? There was a perplexed expression on several faces that were peering out of different syndicate rooms. On the hallway were PK and SP who had no idea what had hit them. The others were wondering what had come upon these two. It took the duo a few seconds to understand what had transpired. We thought it was excusable for them to be perplexed, since it was as real as it was unbelievable.
Turns out that PK had asked SP for a match and SP threw a butane lighter in PK's direction. PK missed the catch and the projectile exploded on contact with ground causing the big bang. What PK and SP were looking for, not realising all this had happened, was the missing blue plastic lighter. Obviously, neither of them had any background in using ammunition of this kind. So, it took a golden few seconds to understand that the heavy odour was that of sublime butane and the blue pieces of plastic were remnants of SP's cigarette lighter.
A wave of comic relief spread over the present crowd as dawned on them an unpleasant side-effect of playing catch with a lighter. Lighter as SP was of a lighter, our minds were lighter from the monotony of the post-dinner discussion. Somewhat like during the aftermath of the big bang, our ideas started crystalising (read as some progress on the case) all the while shaking our heads at the un-impossibility of what has just happened.
For the record, no one was hurt!
Confined, OK, let me add 'by choice', to the palisades of Vastrapur New Campus, I am now a part of a camaraderie of hostelers.I had been variously told that I had missed out one some part of growing up by not living in a hostel. I was not so sure at the time. OK, sour grapes. I now think that the fact that we sit together and debate over 'business decisions' into wee hours of the evening and rub (all) our noses to the ground over frustratingly ambiguous case studies, weaves around us an invisible thread of fellow feeling.Slowly but surely we are building up a repertoire of stories that we will recall in future.
An unforgettable would be that of the Midnight Blast.
Post dinner, bogged down by an 'Analysis of Data' assignment, we were in the abyss of confusedness when, suddenly, there was a "Bang!". In day time, we've heard rare air-gunshots fired to scare away the hundreds of pigeon that think it is their right to deface, with natural elements, the ornate facade and modernistic walls of The Institute. But an air-gunshot in the middle of the night? There was a perplexed expression on several faces that were peering out of different syndicate rooms. On the hallway were PK and SP who had no idea what had hit them. The others were wondering what had come upon these two. It took the duo a few seconds to understand what had transpired. We thought it was excusable for them to be perplexed, since it was as real as it was unbelievable.
Turns out that PK had asked SP for a match and SP threw a butane lighter in PK's direction. PK missed the catch and the projectile exploded on contact with ground causing the big bang. What PK and SP were looking for, not realising all this had happened, was the missing blue plastic lighter. Obviously, neither of them had any background in using ammunition of this kind. So, it took a golden few seconds to understand that the heavy odour was that of sublime butane and the blue pieces of plastic were remnants of SP's cigarette lighter.
A wave of comic relief spread over the present crowd as dawned on them an unpleasant side-effect of playing catch with a lighter. Lighter as SP was of a lighter, our minds were lighter from the monotony of the post-dinner discussion. Somewhat like during the aftermath of the big bang, our ideas started crystalising (read as some progress on the case) all the while shaking our heads at the un-impossibility of what has just happened.
For the record, no one was hurt!
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