The Star Effect

I have always complained that bluetooth is over rated. Yes, I used to sell it – but that is a different thing altogether, right? I remember the weird look I used to give to my friends for using one. I thought it was a “show-off”.

And a few minutes ago, I heard myself telling my roomie that Bodyguard has made bluetooth a cool thing. Salman Khan with the bluetooth and black sunglasses looks dashing and has changed my opinion at the drop of a hat. Am taken aback but amused at the same time! Bollywood has a much bigger effect on our daily lives than we acknowledge. Our clothes, the jokes we crack, the swearing, gestures, slangs, haircut!

I know girls who went to salons and asked for the “Priyanka Chopra” haircut. I know a friend who manages to find the exact same looking clothes in the movie that he watched recently. Hrithik Roshan was telling Priety Zinta in one of those chat shows about how crazy he was about those blue glasses after he saw Bobby Deol wear it in one of his movies. There are a bunch of over romantics that Shah Rukh has created. The list is endless!

Am not complaining. Just marveling what it is capable of! Will we learn the good stuff too at the same pace? Or must it appeal to us as cool?

Project 1

Two weeks had passed in the new company. Ideally, I should not be feeling “all that new” anymore. There is this huge campus with all the greenery and extremely well maintained natural beauty. Also, there are these extremely helpful people out here. Still I have been feeling lonely. Oh, please do not get me wrong. There have been people to give me company. Most people out here taking an extra effort to make sure I do not feel left out. But, I guess it has more to do with what I used to do before than what I might end up doing here (only work intended).

But, the first fun thing came my way and I grabbed it. Having been brought up in Kerala, I have a special place for everything that is Mallu. Yes there is an exception to it – they way they say my name. I have always wanted to tell them, “No, my name is not Remya. It is Ramya with 2 As!!”. But, I have accepted the fact that it is impossible to correct them and have resigned.

Onam brings a lot of joy and fun and the best part is the pookkalam or the flower carpet. I have fond memories of having been extremely competitive to make the best. School, College and now at work – all the excitement has returned.

My team's pookkalam

This simple activity brought together people from all kinds of background and brought out the child in each one of us. It was a great experience planning and executing this awesome flower carpet. My team mates mock me saying this is my first project at Infy. If so, I loved it.

I have heard this story as a kid and it has stuck with me. I am bad at storytelling and hence you can skip this part.

There was this old man who sat at the reception of an inn on the way to Rome. One of the travelers asked him, “How is Rome?”. The old man asked him back, “How was the city that you are coming from?”. The  traveler replied, “It was terrible. The people are extremely selfish and rude. I am so glad am out of there.” The old man replied with a sigh, “Rome is pretty much the same my friend!”. Disappointed, the traveller went on.

Another traveler who came by, asked the old man the same question. The old man repeated his question in reciprocation. The traveler replied, “It is the best city ever! I had so many friends and I still miss them. I was so happy there and it was very difficult to leave.” The old man replied with a smile, “Rome is pretty much the same my friend!”

Maybe, the same thing would happen with me.

The right thing

It has been a while since I blogged. Lets face it – am very bad at it. To add to that, lethargy took over. Until tonight. I felt the urge to write. Maybe I do not want to forget this incident. It is more of a note to myself than to any reader who might accidentally stumble upon this post. I feel emotionally and spiritually challenged tonight.

I have been down with terrible pain and have not done much today – in spite of the fact that a Sunday without rain has become rare. Water being at the bottom of the Maslow’s Hierarchy, its depletion caused me to overcome my horizontality and walk across the lane to the shop and order a refill. As I almost reached my house, I heard a cry from far away. From the distance all I could see was a bunch of dogs barking, a woman screaming and walking on the same lane towards me. Everybody on the road went into their respective houses. It was about to rain and a few huge drops have given a sample of what was coming. They might have gone inside because they did not want to get wet… or because they wanted to ignore this woman.

She did not stop screaming. Neither did she stop walking. She approached and I saw that she carried an infant in her hand. Her clothes were dirty, worn out, perhaps not washed for days. She had a visible limp. Suggesting from her cries, I guessed that she must be hurt. Did the dogs bite her? Did someone hurt her? Did she fall? Or…

I wanted to help. I paused and stood at the gate waiting for her to get closer. She did not look at me. She did not look at any of those people who were watching her, not the security guards, not the guy sipping chai… none. She walked straight ahead. I did not know what to do. Suddenly, I felt more helpless than her. There was no sign of any blood or dog bite. I stood looking as she passed me, still screaming.

I walked into the shelter of my home, with a heavy heart. I did not do anything!

What is the right thing to do? What would you have done?

The Ramayan Challenge

Memories of listening to good old stories, sitting on my dad’s lap, are awesome. Its impossible to imagine the amount of patience one needs to repeat each story – especially those of Vikram Aditya, Mahabharath and others, thanks to my tormenting nature. But, there he was, always telling me those stories, with the same smile on his face, rocking me on his thighs and repeating them, as if he was telling them for the first time. Maybe he knew that those repetitions will carve those stories in my mind and I would grow up someday to think and question the paradigms that they have set.
Ramayan, of those bedtime stories, has always disturbed me and so has its teachings. It confused me with its contradictions. It could have been my shallow thinking or ill understanding, but thoughts are meant to be pondered with and expressed. Hence, I take this bold step of publishing them without anymore glitches.
Intention – Let us examine the purpose of the story Ramayan. As elders put it, the epic is an example set for all men through the remarkably impressive protagonist-Sri Ram. It shows us how to lead our lives with righteousness and respect. God himself takes up the task of demonstrating this to his people by investing one of his avatars for the purpose.
Impact – Sri Ram, as mentioned is the personification of an ideal man. Lets evaluate him as a person, forgetting for a moment, that he is an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. There are 4 phases of his life that must be studied – As king, as a son, as a husband and as a father.
Sri Ram has been praised through generations for the remarkable son he has been. An obedient one who left the palace and luxurious life to the seek the woods. There has always been ambiguous stories about his dedication as a father and hence, without the knowledge of the right story, I am not eligible to comment. What I do have to say is about his role as a king and as a husband. Towards the end, I shall also reflect on the purpose of creating such a character.

He was a remarkable king in the sense that he practiced the then version of democracy. He was not only a good listener but also believed that he must practice in the light of that knowledge. He ended up sending his own wife to the forest. We shall get there in a while. As a king who does the best for his people, he stands high up. But, wasn’t he too democratic? Isn’t it the ruler’s discretion to distinguish what is right from the wrong and not just go by the words of people just to be appreciated and trusted? He was not a representative but a king. Wouldn’t it suit a king more to take educated and mature decisions rather than get emotionally tangled with them and hence lose objectivity?
A husband takes vows to protect his wife till his last breathe and take care of her with all his might. Was the decision to let her go on the premises of a rather irrational justification – after the humiliating test of purity, sensible? I am aware that these questions have been much discussed and exploited. But, by bringing them to light once again, I am just pushing the thought that somewhere, there has been a serious error in judgement – in distinguishing what one might call mere circumstantial crisis to sheer lack of rationale.

This brings us to the question of the purpose. If Ram was to teach men how to live for the generations to come, is it right for him to err? Were principles of such a just human being susceptible to alterations when he killed Bali through deceit? Could we justify our Lord, if he has portrayed the worst example of a husband?
If the purpose was to teach men to be righteous, isn’t it expected of the character to at least prove that it is possible?
What harm has Ramayan done?

If even God fails, how can man, with all his fallacies, manage not to?  Does it means that the power we pray to, cannot resist succumbing to his own creations? Has it not, incidentally justified human error?

I am confused if it a mockery of our beliefs or sheer human error and incapability to portray the all-powerful in the best possible way.

Colors

A few months back, I had to give an welcome speech to an event which had colors has its theme. In an attempt to pen down my deepest thoughts on it, I had come up with the following. Since then, this thought has haunted me, inspired me and made me look at myself through a different eye. Hope readers relate to my thought.

It goes like this…

I have always wondered what nostalgia could mean. In that quest to find out the theoretical implications of the much spoken about concept, I realized-it is the intra-personal expressions of the self that subjectively provides one with a sense of continuity. It mystifies the past, directs the future and imparts longevity and meaning to the present.

But there was one thing that eluded easy explanation-why it has always been incessantly pictured with dullness and vapidity.

If colors do not affect the expressions of the past, it can never brighten the future. If the conspicuous road of nostalgia is not tinctured with the colors of our life, it cannot navigate the contemporary. It is a crime to impart this insipidity to the slices of past that has colored our lives.

What one must do is to dare to challenge  the suavities and paint it with bold colors.

Let me know what you think.

The Bus Crisis

“Moving you most economically” – rings a bell?? At least honks a horn??? Nope??? Its the slogan of the much used Bengaluru Metropolitan Transport Corporation – lovingly called BMTC.

Disclaimer – If you are a “born and brought up in Bangalore, you should probably not read this – especially so if you have never travelled in any other city other than Bangalore.

There is a reason to the disclaimer. I wouldn’t want to be blamed for giving away the Spoiler Alert. Your life is good and let it be till you see the world for yourself!

My experience with these buses are three types – The Vampire Thirst, The One Rupee Loot and The Incomprehensible Clamor.

It cannot escape one’s attention that the minute you get into a BMTC bus, the conductor haunts you for the money as if he is a vampire. It doesn’t matter if you have a huge bag and you are struggling with it, or if you are getting crushed by the crowd or for that matter, you are searching for your purse. They tend to scare you with their urgency to collect the money within seconds of you boarding onto the bus! I call this The Vampire Thirst.

Fine. You have payed the guy and helped him quench his thirst. However, there is another element which you might have missed. He is hungry too. Interestingly, most of the tickets of BMTC buses are of the denominations Rs. 9, Rs. 11 etc. And no prize for guessing, the change is a loot. You have in addition, satiated his hunger too. You pay Rs. 10 for a ticket of Rs. 9 and there he goes with the change. It is just a rupee from you, today. But, considering the cumulative effect, it amounts for a good pocket money – service charge probably, for the promptness. This in my opinion is The One Rupee Loot.

Oh… almost forgot! If you try asking for the change – I challenge you to retrieve that money. Its no more yours buddy. You are not only treated Chindi and looked down like a cheapster, but also get screamed at. There I come to the last accusation I have for them. How many times have you heard that clamor in a language you cannot make out? I must say, even if you don’t understand a language, you are gifted with the ability to figure out if you are being screamed at. This act of kindness is inspired from thin air. They need no reason to instill this on you – doesn’t matter if your day is just starting and you DO NOT want a stranger to give you those galis, if you know what I mean. This is what I call, The Incomprehensible Clamor.

——

While we discuss this, I let myself wander back to the days I was in Chennai. Call it idealization of nostalgia (more on this later), but then they have a unique and interesting way there. The bus conductor sits at the back and every single person passes his/ her change for the ticket from person to person until it reaches the conductor who then dispenses the ticket and the change if any. There is a physical transfer (cash) and verbal transfer (place to go to), which is passed through, with a lot of patience. It is amazing to watch the amount of involvement the travellers have. Surprisingly, for such a system, the level of cheating is extremely low. On the contrary, everyone is keen to get their tickets done!!! One of the reasons -Rs 500 fine if caught cheating, does not entirely explain this behavior. I do not say there is complete peace on the buses. Its a horror when tamilians start screaming at each other. But, what interests me is the intention.

And that makes all the difference.

Search result for Hinduism and Business

I wanted to know the effect of Hinduism on business and here is what BING gave me… hilarious!!

Do I look like a robot? No.. really…?

Guys… what will you do if you get a pop up like that! All I could do was to laugh till it hurt, take a screen-shot for the benefit of sharing and close the url… who would want that video after being questioned about the species I belong to.. or the human-ness of my curiosity!

To blog or not to blog

This has always been a thought that has haunted me for a long time… to blog or not to blog. When I interospect, I derive that I am “writing” person, I mean to say that I communicate relatively better when I try to pen it down rather that try to burn someones head (more often my own) by speaking it out. I am a slow thinker – I got to spend like a lot of time thinking and devising what one calls “my opinion”.

While I was working, it was easy. I had a lotta time- endless amount of it spent in front of a computer and with the basic necessity of internet in place, I used to write a blog at least once a week. MBA changed everything. I became more lazy, ran out of topics to write cos earlier there were a number of funny incidents that could happen to me (refer to humourous frustrations). God bless us – my sense of humor is dead too So, I guess, the best way was to stop writing. But then came 21st Oct 09 and a prof of mine gave this assignment to the class – start a blog and feed in stuff that will be evaluated for 20% of the marks. Funny as it sounds, I thought why not! Sadly for the prof, he has no idea (at least till he attempts to read mine), what kind of a mishap he has just fostered.

For gaining confidence, all it took was to realize the exact meaning of MBA. We used to call ourselves Maha Bakwas Aadmi. But then, to make it more suited for the task at hand, let me chose to call myself – Master of B***S*** Articulation. And henceforth, let me attempt to articulate in as much a deadly way possible – all kinda B***S*** that comes to my mind.

Blue with brown strips

Summer internship days… This is the time when all the dreams you knit about your professional life (in spite of having worked with the corporate for 2 yrs), comes crashing down life a castle of cards. You gottu take 3 buses one way and then an auto to reach the office, yet be on time, take all kinds of work that comes your way cos you have no clue what the word “learning” means. And in such cases, Pareto seems more skewed – only 10% is productive stuff – which you sadly realize after the work is half done. In addition to this, you have been priviledged to get a seat where the rest of the “employees” sit, a corner which rejects all connectivity that your telecom service provider tries to get to you, a corner where there is no one you can turn around and have a chat with, a cubicle that makes you fall asleep but has a geographic location so as to ensure visibility while you are in a siesta.  Internet is a forbidden apple and so is a walk to the guest house where the rest of the interns are having fun.

So, in short, here I was, in this rampant times of social networking – left with no means to connect with people. The only day that brings smiles to ones face in the morning, in spite of the Bangalore traffic thats gonna pin you down, is a Friday. You can wear casuals. I am sure any corporate guy will relate to me when I say the word Friday. We smile at each other, give a relaxed sigh, a tear at the corner of the eyes, signifying relief. It was a similar day and I took out the blue and brown striped top that I wanted to wear. It is said that fashion hits Mumbai first and Bangalore feels it after a jolly good 2 months. This was a fashion top from Mumbai. What more reason does a girl want to believe that there is no possibility that she might find anyone on the road with the same top? Clearly, I was in for a surprise. I had not thought that morning that at the same time, there were 3 other people in Bangalore who went the same direction as mine  and wanted to wear the same pattern that day – blue and brown stripes.

On any other day, I would have been glad to be offered a seat on any of the buses I need to take. But that day, to my horror, here I was embarrasing the woman who sat next to me – with my blue and brown stripes exactly similar to hers. the same horizontal pattern and the same peocok blue and dark brown stripes which clearly wasnt as rare to get as I thought. After pretending not to notice her, I got down from the 1st of the buses I had to take. Walking just in front of me was a construction worker, a man – wearing the same pattern on his t-shirt! I am not joking or cooking up a story my friend – cos it is impossible for anyone to experience what I did then. I had no clue what to do! As if the gods were playing a joke on me – a few students who were on the same bus stop felt it necessary to notice me – something which they have never done for the past 45 days! There were giggles and thankfully comments came in a language I did not understand. The worker, as if it was  a compliment to him started giving me sly looks and smiles that drove the shit outta me!

I was damn glad the bus arrived and when I had reached the office I had almost forgotten the episode. But, really – it was my day! You might have guessed it right – here was a collegue who unbelievably wore the same pattern to work. What am I? A practical joke??