The Choice...

Consider a “Tree” (you may either consider a natural tree or a computer science tree). Imagine that you are at the root and your mission is to reach the leaf (Def in Computer Science: Leaf nodes: Nodes at the end of the tree). There are a lot of branches you could take to reach a leaf. Once you go with a branch, you cannot come back. So, the branch you take at each stage will determine your end leaf. This leaf would have been totally different if you had opted for some other branch. The significance of the difference would be much more if you would have made a different choice right at the start of your mission.

Our Damu sometime wonders how different his life would have been had he done  some things differently. He listened to his parents, studied hard, always topped in the class, went to college, got a job and managed to earn his first Rupee at the age of twenty two. Had he not studied as hard and had dropped out of the school after seventh class like his good friend Kashinath, he would have been a Lakhpati by twenty two, just like Kashinath. Kashinath, after gaining the wisdom till seventh grade, had taken up the responsibility of being a bus conductor (which incidentally was Damu’s dream job), had later bought two second-hand buses, and today owns an entire fleet of seven brand new buses.

The thought of not being a Lakhpati because of wrong choice leaves Damu downhearted. However he is not the one who likes being in the dejected state for long. He thinks of all the comforts he has in the current job and feels relieved at how easy it was all this while. His inability to answer the questions, “tell me something about yourself/ what are your five strengths & weaknesses/ where do you see yourself five years from now/ etc etc” during the Verizon interview of college placements gave him an opportunity to understand that this world uses are some basic and irrational questions to judge an individual’s ability during an interview. With this sapience, his task of proving himself was cut short. He just had to prepare for around twenty seven questions listed on www.interviewquestions.com and answer the interview. And voila, just the second interview of his life and he got selected in an IT service company, one of the best in India, and arguably the most ethical and value based company in the world. After working for three long years, learning the best programming processes, knowing the importance of personal grooming, being promoted once, with a MVP awards, three successful on-sight assignments, Damu had made a decision of joining a B-school. The two years at the school were packed with all sorts of management gyan or Business101. He wanted to apply all his knowledge. Damu had been selected in a MNC for consultancy profile but he wasn’t sure if that was a job he wanted. He wanted something different; he could feel there is a bigger opportunity lying just on the other side of the road. And one day he decides to cross the road.

Damu has made yet another choice which would lead him to a totally different fate. He has decided reject his campus offer. He has decided to start his own venture. He wants to start “Moto-Pilot Pvt. Ltd.” With this he dreams of spreading the Goa special concept of motorcycle-pilot throughout the country. With the kind of business plan he has, he feels Moto-Pilot would be the most successful start-up in the country.

He wonders however; how his and Kashinath’s paths, which he thought were based on totally different choices, have led them to very similar leaves.

Disclaimer: The inspiration for this topic comes from the movie “The Butterfly Effect”. The movie talks about how a person’s life is shaped by the events that happen in his life, and how dramatically different ones life would have been if some other events would have happened instead.

Ignorance is Bliss!!!

The other day I saw a documentary on Discovery about India. I watch Discovery; but only when they don't show India. I somehow feel the Discovery guys firmly believe that we still charm the snakes and use elephants to commute. Even if someone tells them that India has advanced; they would surely feel our elephants now have side indicators which blinks when it takes a turn.

Discovery seems to have a background score associated with each country. For India it is the Sitar punctuated with Tabla. Do they really believe we play only that?? Sorry sorry... they don't... they actually think we can also play the flute. Mr. Rahman, after you finish reading this, please compose some new numbers, especially for the Discovery(India) shows.

They somehow come to know that we are good in IT, and then there is no stopping them to show how the new IT generation earns more than their parents' retirement salary. They also don't miss to point out that this salary that Indian IT generation earns is at least ten times less than their counterpart in the west. This is to show the gap between us and them. To prove their point they head to the Destination 'IT' or in other words 'Infosys Technologies' in Bangalore. Sitting with half a dozen Infoscions, the host of the show, who happens to be of Indian origin, starts his questions in his weird accent. Probably he has tailored his western accent specially for his Indian guests. The questions are framed tactfully to elicit answers like "...now I can buy the refrigerator which my Mom always wanted" or "I get respect in the society, they look up to me", and so on... In between the Q and A session the camera wanders across different places; right from the Burgers and Pastas in Infoscions' plates to the 'Sunil Tea Shop' outside Infy on Hosur road; from the architecturally innovative Infosys buildings to the slum-like areas in Electronic City. Infosys caterers do serve Indian food, and a variety of it. I cant call it good but it is definitely better than the burger. Probably forcing the Infoscions in the frame to eat western food suits him to bring out the contrast better.

Our host then moves to Pune, asking about the 123 agreement to the locals. I still couldn't figure out why, but he does. Probably to test their knowledge.. or rather the lack of it. But the locals being from the land of the great Maratha's, refuse to bow down. To the credit of Puneits, they knew that the 123 has something to do with nuclear technology and thanks to the 1998 Pokhran tests, the word 'nuclear' is directly related to bombs. With this kind of correlations the answers were obvious, like some Patil said, "There are a lot of anti social individuals moving freely in the country. What if one of them gets hold of this nuclear technology and creates atomic bombs out of it? India should not sign 123 agreement". Our host is happy. He has completed his assignment. He starts his conclusion about his journey in India and concludes it with a statement:
"Ignorance is Bliss!!!"

and there she was....

It was 11:45 pm. I woke up. I couldn't talk, I couldn't see, I couldn't walk, only thing I knew was to cry and exactly the same I did. Probably I was hungry, probably I was not, I don't remember. A three-day-old doesn't have a great memory, right? I was crying. and there she was, with a smile, ready to placate me.

It was 11:45 pm again. I was nervous, I was scared, I was feeling lonely at my table in the light of the table lamp. It was my board exam. First paper staring at me, just two days away. I dint know what to do. And there she was at the door with a glass of Bournvita and all the support that I needed.

It was 11:45 pm that day. I was moving to Mysore. I was excited. My first job. I dint know what to pack and what not. Clothes went in and came out of my old suitcase. I wanted to carry a lot but didn't have enough space. I thought of taking the most important things only, so, no space for Ma's rava-laddoo. I dint know how to manage. And there she was, this time with a couple of tears in her eyes and a new trolley bag in her hand.

It was 11:45 pm today. Taare Zameen Par had just got over. The song Maa had welled me. The only thing that was on my mind was to run to Ma, hug her and cry. And there she was, this time on the call. And I cried!!! The only thing I could say was "Tujhe sab hai pata, hai na Maa.... meri Maa...."

Cigarette: Kills Human or Saves Humanity

“Cigarette smoking is injurious to health” So what??? Look at all positives it offers, not only to an individual but to our society and the mankind as a whole.

Lets start from micro economics. Mr Chandru, a street side cigarette vendor, tells that he makes a pure profit of around Rs. 5000 per month just by selling cigarettes. There are also side-products that go best with the fags, tea being the most common, which benefits the tea industry and a billion people associated with it directly or indirectly and of course Mr. Chandru. And think of all those philanthropist who give free smoke to all the non-smokers by paying and burning their own lungs. The non-smoker category may include infants, school children, pregnant women etc who get the smoke and along with that around 4000 chemicals absolutely FREE. And they say Cigarette smoking is injurious to health.

Lets go to a slightly bigger arena. Cigarettes play a very important role in country's development. Ever heard of excise duties? Cigarettes contribute to around 10% of the total excise taxes. Now thats a huge amount. Also look at the employment opportunities it provides. Right from the fields where the tobacco is grown, to the cigarette producers like ITC, Godfrey Phillips etc; from the ad companies, who make the pseudo ads for cigarette brands, to the streetside shopkeepers like our own Mr. Chandru. And what about the children? Mr. Chandru employs two 9 year olds to help him run his business. The same would be the case at each stage of the product development and distribution. Its fun time for the kids who are a part of this chain. They don't have to go to school, so no studies. They earn money and can do what they want to do. In a way they are Independent, isnt it what we fought for during the first half of twentieth century? What if it has a bad effect on their health? What if they don't make it big in their life like Dr Kalam or Mrs Gandhi ? Its a small price to pay to make India the largest producer and exporter of tobacco. Now, don't you agree Cigarettes are important to keep the India going?

Lets come to national unity? During the independence, India was divided in states based on linguistic grounds to avoid conflicts. But man is such a genius that he can find thousand reasons to fight; religion, rivers, financial status, quota in higher education, are just to name a few. Have you ever seen people fight over cigarette? No. Because you don't have to. Thats the kind of power it has. A few weeks back there were a lot of heated discussions between friends from east and from west. The topic was of national interest, "Sachin In, Dada Out!!". But amidst the hostile exchange of words, only one other thing was shared amicably, 'Thee Cigarette'!!! Even Einstein would have been proud of this Grand Unifying Force.
So often I have seen an IT professional, a road side worker and a Benz owner buy a Cigarette from Mr. Chandru. And when there aren't sufficient matchsticks for everyone, they use other's Cigarette to light their own. The sight is no less than lighting of candles in "Mile Sur Mera Tumhara". Isn't that great? Financial status no bar, caste no bar, religion no bar, age no bar. Now thats for me is "Unity In Diversity"!!!

Not only in social life, but the Cigarette plays a pivotal role in the education system as well. Its the order to get a Cigarette which breaks the ice between a fresher and the seniors. Cigarette is, arguably, the best style statement available in college to impress the beauties. And how can anyone forget that day, that special day... that day before the exam when you don't find the syllabus! Tension all over. Its the Cigarette, and the nicotine present in it, who comes to the rescue by relieving all the tension and making you believe that you are never alone even if you are alone when you have your Cigarette with you. It does make you dependent and reduces you tolerance but its fine...

So you would agree that cigarette is the source of eternal happiness, not only for you, but for all around you. Its time to stop banning Cigarette and tobacco and focus on more important and community saving issues like "Should Smirti Irani be back as Tulsi?". We are the ones who can bring her back. Cigarette smoking is injurious to health, well thats just a crap.


-- The author is a well established non-smoker and has ulterior motives in the above piece of writing.

Dream Job!!!!

As a kid Damu was often asked the question, "Bade Ho Ke Kya Banoge Beta?". The Quiz Masters often disguised themselves as his uncles, aunts, neighbors, Mummy's friends, Daddy's boss and so many other earthlings who visited their house. The answers thought to him, during his training sessions, included Doctor, Engineer, Lawyer and Scientist. He had the liberty to use any one of them, only condition was to stick to one option the entire day.

He did not want to be a doctor for he was scared of injections; acrophobia prevented him from even thinking of being an engineer(a person, he thought, wears a yellow helmet and builds skyscrapers); he dint know what Lawyers did and "Scientist" being an unpronounceable word was avoided as the answer. Instead he used his general knowledge and gave answers like "Sachin Tendulkar", "Mithun" and "Lata Mangeshkar". Damu dint know who these people were, but they were the most talked about names in the house. One thing he observed was that the third answer always made the Quiz Masters happy, which they demonstrated through their laughter.

Although he did not share his dream job with anyone, he had dreamt of the most exciting job. He wanted to guide the ignorant creatures of this world, to make the decisions, to be in-charge, to pass orders and make sure they are followed, to be respected and so on... in short, he wanted to be a Bus Conductor. For him this was the most revered job in the world, and how could he be wrong? It was the conductor who traveled from one place to another in the bus, in 'his own' bus, free of cost; it was the conductor who ushered the passengers to the vacant seats; it was the conductor who gave instructions to all (including the driver); it was the conductor who woke the people lost in their dreams when the bus reached the destination and it was the conductor who in return of all his favors charged an exorbitant amount of money, three Rupees to be precise.

Damu was captivated by these men. Their Khaki uniform, leather Batwa, and the Pilluk (whistle). He couldn't believe how nimble they were at their maths, which they demonstrated while giving back the change to the passengers in a flash. Their memory was beyond any comparison, they knew exactly the source and terminus of each and every passenger's journey and halted the megaton bus at the right stop with just one gesture. They were also fearless, as they moved in and out of the moving bus at will. Punctuality was the quality that Damu liked the most, every time the conductor felt that the bus was late he used his pilluk to push the driver, who in turn stepped on the gas and made the bus reach on time. Damu often dreamt of the day when he would become one of the men in khaki and rule the world. The thought always dropped off leaving an incessant smile on his face.

Very little did he know that one day he would overcome his fear of height and become an Engineer- not the one who builds tall building, but a one who works in them. Damu is working with an MNC on 74th floor. This is not the kind of life Damu had imagined twenty years ago. Then, he did not like air condition, found coffee bitter, pizza and Maggi were unheard of, he used to hug his bed at 8:30pm and always lost to computer in the Brick Ball game. All said, he did not satisfy any criteria of being a software professional.

The Chayyam's

Wow! Clear blue sky with the ever enigmatic Sun blessing the world with its golden rays. Just a perfect day, more so it being a Sunday. The phone rings. He knows from the tune who the caller is. Damu was expecting this. He receives the call and greets Kethaki in the most mannered way possible, for Kethaki is not an appreciator of the colloquials. After speaking for a couple of minutes she asks him to come down to her room, which is two floors below his. Damu agrees with a smile.

Kethaki, the youngest in the Chayyam family, has been Damu's friend for more than a year. It was Kethaki who opened the door when he first came to the Chayyam's house as a guest... a paying guest. It was then and there that their frequencies got tuned. She was cute, smart and loquacious, a bit like Damu himself leaving apart the cuteness and the loquacity. They spent a lot of time together, she had a lot of stuff to tell, ranging from why she dislikes her neighbor Shiya to how she can now solve the most difficult problems in her curriculum. She also had a plethora of complains about her parents, most of them related to the discipline. In Damu she found a perfect friend, who gave her a lot of time, never got annoyed, and also helped her with her studies. Damu on the other hand just enjoyed her company.

Climbing down the steps, forty three of them, was the most horrendous task for Damu, for he knew he has to do just the reverse task to get back to the room। He put his hand on the door bell. The maid opened the door, provided the information that the Chayyams were not at home and banged the door on his face. The door bell rang again, maid opened the door again with the most evil look possible. Damu was not perturbed by this animosity, for he knew she was well within her limit for the distraught-- how dare he complain about her when his watch went missing, though he had found it around her husband's wrist? Of course she got out of the matter by putting forward the point that the watch company don't produce just one piece of a particular model and Damu dint have any proof to prove her wrong--. The maid was told that he has work with Kethaki. He was let in and the door was slammed with the herculean force. His journey from entrance to Kethaki's room was keenly monitored. Damu received this with a smile.

The guest was welcomed in the room with a kiss on the forehead. Damu reciprocated on the cheek. He looked around the room. It was mess, a complete mess. Clothes lay on the study table in a confused heap. Books, lying in a far corner of the room, participated in the experiment which involved collecting and studying the dust in the room. The invitee did not require any further proof that the seniors were on a week long outing. He heard the door being shut. One look at the hostess, and Damu sensed the mood in the room, certain of what was in stall for the next thirty minutes. He made attempts to refuse, of course futile. Manning this man was a cake walk for Kethaki. And they started. Bed was the first to be blessed, followed by carpet, floor, table. Closet was not lucky to be spared either. Out of exhaustion they collapsed in the bed. Water was the only thing he could think of at the moment. Kethaki went and opened the door only to find Mom. More happy than surprised at the timing, she let her in. Looking at the stacks of book on the table, clothes majestically in the closet, clean carpet equidistant from the two corner walls and most importantly Mr. Damu in the room, Mrs Chayyam could see the replay action of past thirty minutes. Struck in ambivalence, she turned to the young man "Damu, you are a paying guest in this house, not a room cleaner of this seven year old monster". "No problem Aunty, I dont mind it for some Coffee and Dosa".

Damu And The Clutches Of (Almost) Death

...is held by neck, Damu strangles to escape from the clutches, but despite all his efforts the force keeps on increasing. Damu gives up all the hope of surviving and leaves his body to the fate. And suddenly... the pressure around his neck stops to build up. The music starts... the longitudinal waves hit Damu's eardrums. Damu is frustrated. He fails to digest the fact that someone can be so stone hearted to play music when he is about to die. The music does stop for a moment, but starts all over again. Damu cannot hold himself. He makes the move to find the one playing the music, but with his moves the clutches around his neck, which had gone into oblivion, return with vengeance. Damu gives up once again, and so does the brute force. Suddenly there is a short circuit in the Damu's cerebral system. Some memories strike him, the music still playing. He recollects, he knows it now. All is clear. Damu can now afford to smile, although he decides against. He opens his eyes, carefully untangles the bed sheet wrapped around his neck, snoozes off the ringing alarm in his cell phone and closes his eyes, moving into the clutches of sleep again.