The scales of justice are lopsided

What I saw Wednesday

It's funny how so many things come together and make you ponder about an allied topic that perhaps ties them all together. This may sound all twisted and weird, but here's the deal. If we were to watch the news today, there is tremendous hue and cry on how there has been a total miscarriage of justice (a very trendy word, it appears for the media, who have been using the term from Jessica Lall, through Ruchika and now to the Bhopal Gas disaster). Anyway, the issue being talked about is our legal system and the way in which, people cringe at the mention of the word 'sue'. Not defendants, but rather complainants themselves who many-a-time choose not to opt for the legal route because of the slow churning wheels of the law and the high associated costs!

People died in the hundreds that night, when India was still a fledgling democracy. It's wrong to view a 1984 case through the lenses of today! Union Carbide has been taken over by Dow. The CEO is 90 years old! What punishment can you give a 90 year old man??? 20 years in jail?

Some points they mention in the case are rather sad though. That Union Carbide compensated the Government back then on the basis of the number of casualties they reported back then. But that was Bhopal, a small town in pre-liberalized India! An India that 6 years later would teeter on the brink of bankruptcy. How can you expect such a Government to provide veracious data? Statistics and data were not strong. Obviously they wouldn't be, since 1984 was still an age of Doordarshan and no computers, let alone spreadsheets and internet. And what about the millions suffering birth defects today? But then again, what happened to those who brought about the disaster at Hiroshima and Nagasaki? War time crimes do not classify as comparable cases, you say? Well, a human life is a human life, and prolonged, chronic, perpetual harm as an underlying thread is decidedly comparable!

Along similar lines of negligence, but on a smaller scale is the loss of life through negligent driving. Over the past 2 weeks, I've seen news of some top notch politician's kid ramming a suave car into a cab, an auto rickshaw, people, snatching away the ballast of a family in one rude jolt. A young mother of 3 kids, the eldest of which is 4? The sole earning member of a family of 5 young girls? And the perpetrators walk off on bail. And you truly wonder whether India is a country of numbers alone. A rather sad fact. Whether the anchor of a family dies as a result of a chemical leakage, or as a result of a road accident caused by rash driving by a rich kid, a family is devastated. A tragedy occurred in 1984, and almost 26 years later an apology of justice is being meted out. Several tragedies occur on Indian roads today, and 26 years later, I doubt whether anyone would even remember the incident!

Irony

Weird Wednesday

The other day I saw an ad on TV that spoke of the dire state of education for everyone especially in rural India. It shows a little girl sitting under a tree talking to herself saying that she can't go to help her mother cook today and that she can't help out in the fields - because she is going to school today. And then the sponsor, a large FMCG conglomerate puts a message saying that out of every sale, some portion would go towards rural children's education. 'Padhega India, tabhi toh Badhega India' the catch line says.

A friend of mine who lives in a first world nation remarked to me the other day that now that summer was imminent, there were loads of hoardings and advertisements on TV relating to sport. Rollerblading, soccer, everything that can best be played and enjoyed in sunshine, when the world isn't covered in snow. And she told me about a certain set of ads by a hardware store, that said, 'Buy here, so our children can play!' It seems that that ad had kids of different races each staring into the camera with a line above their faces that read - 'I only want a tennis racket' or 'I only want a pair of cleats' or 'I only want a pair of inline skates' and so on. The ad apparently ended with a bunch of kids entering a hockey field in uniforms and in place of their names on the back of their jerseys, they had the names of each of the store's products. The purport was that the store was involved in CSR towards ensuring underprivileged children could play.

The irony hit me. Call it Marie Antoinette, but India sure has a long way to go!

The story of the parking spot!

A busy day. Loads of cars on the street. A place. One parking spot looks available, since someone is just backing out. You notice it and you stop strategically a few steps away from that outgoing car. Just a few minutes later, another car pulls up on the opposite side after seeing the outgoing car backing out. Outgoing car backs out, the spot is open, up for taking. What happens? The answer - IT DEPENDS.

If I am somewhere in the non - desi part of North America or UK, I can be sure that I'll get a smile from the other contender, who'll perhaps just shrug and turn his wheel to go look for other spots.

If I am in Mumbai, well, the story is totally different. First, we begin with a slurry of honks. Since everyone is scrounging the parking lot looking for a spot, everyone is slow. But the guy behind me couldn't care less, since for him, I might have slept off behind the wheel. Then when we see this spot, the situation can vary depending on who I am in competition with. If the other contender is a young, brash, spoilt brat driver, I can be assured that I am better off getting out of there. Simply because such kids drive a Honda Civic as if it were a Lamborghini! How they manage to achieve that sportscar kind of pickup in a sedan is beyond me. If it's a woman behind he wheel, forget it, that opportunity for parking is lost. Having to fight for everything in the world, I guess makes them fiercely competitive. Enough to make grabbing that parking place a mortal battle of egos! And if I and the other contender are locked in a non-verbal battle of who can take the spot, a cabbie will thrust his nose in, and park even as we both start hurling abuses his way. And after parking, he'll just turn around, give a couple of abuses himself and walk off!

And if this were happening in Delhi, most of the above cases may remain, except that as a woman driver, I might have to even face a couple of lecherous winks as well! It's almost like giving this premise to 3 different directors - Satyajit Ray, Karan Johar and Sajid Khan! The output is gruesomely different. But that's how they are!!!

Eyjafjallajo...KULL THE CONQUEROR!!!

On Saturday, this was a tiny snippet in BBC and a tiny one liner in the papers. That such a blink-and-you'll-miss-it piece of news could bring 27000 flights a day to a grinding halt, cripple an already debilitated airline industry, strand passengers all over the globe, give the jitters to anyone traveling towards that part of the world, was unimaginable to say the least!

The other day, I was telling a friend about this volcano that has erupted in Iceland. I typed out the name to her - Eyjafjallajokull. Her response was - 'Please turn the webcam towards the kid who's playing with your keyboard!' Yup. No one knew about this poor volcano till date. I never knew volcanoes existed under the ice in a country called ICELAND! But now I know. And I know so very well, that I could never forget it even if I so wished! So, ***** Kull the conqueror, as I'd rather call it, has managed to throw a whole world into disarray. Several things are coming to the fore thanks to this volcano.

One - Europe is still the center of the world. The other day, I was stuck at a level crossing in Mumbai. I was on the road and the gates were lowered to signal the arrival of a train. To get to my destination, I had to cross those railway tracks and move on. While I waited, anxiously looking at the watch, knowing I was running 20 minutes late, I kept looking at the tracks. Almost 7 trains went past in quick succession. And I wondered - Had I not been standing here, I never would have realized the fact that so many trains ply on that line! Likewise, it takes a volcano to realize that 27,000 flights ply the European airspace per day! Even though Africa is not too far away from Europe, it is almost unimaginable to think of Dubai airport supplanting Heathrow, let alone Entebbe or the airport of Cote d'Ivoire!

Second, a non-third world passport is a boon in such a case. I saw a small report on BBC today, where a correspondent on holiday somewhere in Europe. Hearing about the volcano, he tried to go via road back to London. Not being able to rent a car there, he crossed the border to the neighboring country and hired a car there and drove down to Barcelona, from whence he spoke to BBC! I can only imagine what would happen to someone holding an Indian passport being stuck in Heathrow. I guess the maximum that can happen would be that the BA guys, out of goodwill could let the passengers to go on a transit visa to an airport hotel. Maybe some may not be given that advantage either! As an Australian friend remarked one day, his passport was of use in traveling, without a visa in Europe, North America and a greater part of LatAm, since it was a valid ID. His Indian wife's passport on the other hand, was of precious little use. So, any Europe - wide travel plans he may have had were pitifully scuttled by the prospect of having to stand in never-ending queues for his wife's visas!!!

So Kull has taught us a lot. And now that the lessons are over, I sincerely wish Kull cools down and let's the planes fly.

Driving me crazy!!

There perhaps was something providential in my radio playing 'you drive me cra-e-a-e-zy' today. After a whole year of staying away from the pleasures of driving I made bold and got behind the wheel today to go and pay my respects to the Sea Link. And thankfully I did remember that the right-most pedal is the accelerator and that I need to hit the clutch to change my gearshift! But that knowledge was not enough for me, given my subequent tryst with Mumbai traffic, since I was stomping on the brake at least double the number of times I depressed the clutch and the accelerator put together!

A one year hiatus from driving has not dulled my driving skills. But it sure has blunted the memories of Mumbai traffic from my mind. People always tell me that traffic in Mumbai is a lot more disciplined than traffic in Delhi, or Chennai or any other city in India for that matter. And this comes just when I complain to my friends about the gross disregard shown to drivers by cabbies who run a drag race of their own from traffic signal to traffic signal! I can only imagine then, how traumatic life can be for those who need to drive in those other cities.

So, never mind the incessant wait in never-ending traffic snarls. Never mind the billowing smoke that emanates from the random truck whose gas pipe is so conveniently at the level of your open car window! As long as there is the radio, though I wish they'd play more music and talk lesser, and as long as you're ok to go on with closed windows, life is cool, well comparatively cooler! But hell breaks loose when an aspiring grand prix driver in a black and yellow cab suddenly decides that a red light turning to green is akin to the 'five lights illuminate and they go out, and the Mumbai Grand Prix is GO' signal!! Unfortunately people slowly getting back to grips with the pleasures of driving are caught in the fray, HEADLONG. And then start the observations.

People are always in a hurry. Especially those on two wheels. They go as far to the edge of the signal as they possibly can, and when the light turns green they race like as though in a MotoGP so that they can zip past the next signal and the next maybe before those lights turn red! And much as you're concerned about protecting your car, you worry more about their life, since a simple nudge by a car is perhaps enough to kill them! Ford was right - a car is indeed a lethal weapon, and given the spate of hit-and-runs, looks like the RTO is indeed handing over licenses to kill to our aspiring 18 year olds! So, silent prayers and occasional 'gadha kaheen ka' gaalis later, you move on and come to yet another signal. This one is red and you drum your steering wheel to the tune that's playing and 'Uff teri adaa' is interrupted by a loud honk. Why? the traffic signal has a second ago turned green and the car behind you thinks you have launch control a-la F1 cars! Alas, even a Ferrari F430 gives 0 to 100 kmph in 3.5 seconds!!! But who cares, what if you had fallen asleep behind the wheel? The guy behind you is doing you a favor here!!

And finally comes the car driver or cabbie who thinks he is on a motor bike. He zips and zooms as fast as he can and that is ok. You'd perhaps stay faaaaaaar away from those species. The issue is when he thinks he can push his car through a gap between a truck and your car and in the process leaves a dirty gash all over the side of your car. Never mind the spoilt appearance. The biggest problem is coming home and explaining that the source of the gash was errant driving by a lunatic on the road and not a need for speed from your side! But that argument seldom ever flies and you perhaps end grounded for a week!

But in terms of driving in Mumbai now, with the higher income levels and the increased proliferation of drivers who drive in gay abandon with scant regard towards the well-being of cars both under and around them, being grounded is perhaps the best thing that could happen to you!!!

Mumbai and the Mumbaikar - as viewed by everyone else

So.. the last goodbyes were said after exchanging promises of staying in touch. And today, life begins again in Maximum City. And after having spent a whole year outside, I had to put in something on how others perceive Mumbai and its inhabitants - the Mumbaikars. But first, 2 lines on my immediate reactions. I came in at around 2 am last night, and as has perhaps been written right here in the past, the city was as vibrant as ever. The people at the airport, totally friendly, cabbies, security guards, everyone. And no matter what anyone may say, humid or otherwise, 29 degrees is on any day better than scorching 45 degrees!!!

Now, outside Mumbai, and within India, Mumbai evokes totally contrasting reactions. One of awe, like, admiration and aspiration and another of being intimidated, disgusted and overwhelmed. And the former reactions do not emanate from a Mumbaikar, but rather both these sets of reactions come from people who have lived a while in Mumbai.

So some, who like a city for its people, find Mumbai immensely friendly. And this I can vouch for myself. People here are friendly. Now, you can't expect Japanese style cordiality or congeniality, but people won't snap at you, or cabbies won't insult you if you ask them to change a route midway. You can count on the person standing next to you to help you with a heavy bag, perhaps even without your asking for assistance if you are female. And as a city, it is very very safe for women, since well, people are much too busy running behind their own lives to actually think lecherously about a woman on the street! And so, some people who like to be left to live their life and make it the way they want to enjoy the city for its 'bindaas' nature. They enjoy the pace, the continuous run to be at the top of your game, and the positive attitude of people towards work and merit.

And then there is the other category, who hate Mumbai. All they see are the slums, the congested roads, the traffic snarls, the crowds and so on. They perhaps hail from smaller or more laid back cities and literally get intimidated by the pace and stress on meritocracy in Mumbai. They yearn for the idyllic lifestyle back in their old cities/towns and detest every waking moment in Maximum City, maybe because this stress on Maximum and extremes is a bit tough to handle! And I must admit. Mumbai is unforgiving in pushing her inhabitants to the extreme. Be it the rents or having to endure the crowds in public transport. Then again, some who come here to follow a dream and believe in the dream real bad, stick it through and once the teething troubles are endured, there comes a point of inflexion, post which they are initiated into the land of the Mumbaiphile, whence there is no return to falling in love with another Indian city.

And the former group perceives Mumbaikars as being bindaas, chilled out, fun-loving people, who bear malice towards none. The latter group, though looks at Mumbaikars as being arrogant, headstrong, non-adjusting and to some extent even conceited. I may be wrong in my assessment, but this is a glaring trend that I have perceived in my interactions. Now should a Mumbaikar be perturbed by these perceptions? I guess, given that we are carefree and bindaas, as what we'd like to be known as, the latter perception should perhaps be read in the light of the prejudices of the perceivers themselves and so can maybe be disregarded, after due consideration has been given to the veracity of these perceptions. Are we by any chance too carefree to be perceived as being arrogant? Are we too focused to be perceived as being selfish? Maybe just a reflective thought by the sea side every once in a while, but not before smelling the sweet salty air of the Arabian Sea.

For all other practical purposes - for all Mumbaikars, irrespective of what they may be perceived to be, Mumbai was, is and perhaps will always be their true love...

The Blue Mug

So the name was BLUE MUG. When I told my friend that I was going to see a play by this name, her immediate reaction was - 'Of course I know why you're going. You love all things MUG', referring to my bizarre hobby of collecting mugs. Frankly speaking, my curiosity in the play was piqued primarily for this reason. Plus it boasted of a rocking star cast - Konkona Sen Sharma, Vinay Pathak, Rajat Kapoor, Sheeba Chadha and Munish Bhardwaj. Plus, I was going to go watch a play after sooooooooooooooo long. Plus, it was term 8, time to start living up whatever little Hyderabad has to offer - no offence, but Hyd is small compared to Maximum City.

So there we went to watch the BLUE MUG. Unfortunately, the title words make an appearance all of thrice throughout the play. And right at the start, they said that they have no props. So there went all my hopes of seeing a blue mug. Secretly I was hoping to get tiny blue mugs along with our tickets, as an ad gimmick - call it wishful thinking, but what else can you expect out of a mug collector? So, anyway, no freebie blue mug, no props, so no real life blue mug. I went running from a class, straight to the play, so no mug of coffee either. Although after reaching the venue, I was made to wait in a serpentine line to enter the air conditioned, mosquito-free part of the audi, before crowding up to enter the actual theater, which we entered after almost an hour! But since I was with my gang, it never really hurt. Plus I was too busy displaying my histrionics, for who knows where I could be 'the new find of 2010'????

Then the play started. The audi was good, albeit a tad cold. The artistes were awesome. Their lines were perfect, the lights were perfect. But in an attempt to tie the whole play to a theme around memories, according to me, something was lost. Ok, I am not a theater afficionado, but I appreciate art and entertainment. Note to self - visit Prithvi and Rangsharda more often, so I have more entities in my consideration set. (Did I just say consideration set???) Anyway. The play certainly had its moments. At some places, like in Ranvir's portrayal of a Punjabi with a 15 minute memory, the humor was strong, and at some places, rather contrived. The play, according to me could not be classified as either serious or humorous, and I prefer silos, so that I can make up my mind whether to come out smiling or reflective.

Sheeba Chadha is an amazing artiste. But her parts were motley to say the least. Glass pieces, to Saharanpur to suddenly Babri Masjid? Yeah, seemed just like the movie Page 3 that aspired to cover all aspects from drug addiction, to paedophilia, to riots to what not! Again, Koko according to me was wasted. Her talent certainly deserves more depth in terms of character. There some portions, like the five petal leaf part, which my little brain didn't quite get the relevance of. So, part serious, part humorous, somewhere frightfully deep, and somewhere ridiculously banal, this play should rather have been called motley or scrapbook or collage! It certainly had its moments and the talent was amazing, and in terms of portraying a theme around memories - their variety and the emptiness of a life without memories was well portrayed. For me, though, it was another tryst with art, theater after a long time, exercise for the right side of my brain, and yet another topic to blog about.

You're worth it and you don't know it!

When L'Oreal says, "because you're worth it", trust that statement! Honestly. The average consumer has no clue how much conglomerates spend to try to understand the cogitations transpiring in that tiny little head of his (or hers). Now, for the average consumer, going and purchasing clothes washing soap is a mundane task. Something that needs to be done, for fear of the maid not washing clothes! Or worse still, washing the clothes in plain water and walking away! But it is amazing to think of the amount a company would pay in terms of money and time, to simply understand whether the color blue or the color yellow appeals to you in a washing powder! Or better still, to understand whether shelf placement a few centimeters to the right matters more than say keeping it to the left! Some research has shown that companies pay more for placement to the right than to the left, since majority of consumers are right handed. I was stumped! Since what is 'left' to us is actually right, perhaps if we move a foot to the left, get it? No? Well, please remember this line next time you walk into a mall to pick up toothpaste and let this be your a-ha moment of the day!

Studies on purchase behaviors abound. Studies on repurchase behaviors are even more numerous. Studies show that people get tempted to pick up more than they need just because the product is on promotional sale, and that many-a-time, the product picked is actually sub-standard and such that they perhaps won't pick it up if the product were not on sale! There are studies showing which portions of the brain light up in response to certain forms of ad communications! I could go on and on about such topics, but what fascinates me the most is the deeper linkage of a mundane purchase activity with sub-conscious cognitive skills, that we perhaps never knew existed!

Take for instance the whole Tiger Woods episode. Now 'High Performance, Delivered', the tag line of Accenture just took on a corny new meaning! But the flip side of celebrity endorsements could not have been more stark. Both in terms of Accenture's image and in terms of the harsher side of celebrity. One of my earlier posts - titled the devil within us spoke about the flip side of celebrity. And Tiger Woods is exactly a case in point. When the going is good, marketers egg us to go and be a tiger. And at first signs of negative associations, they drop the poor (sorry filthily rich) guy like a hot potato! They wish to shun any association, unmindful of the eyeballs and revenues he had brought in just a few months ago. Some question the credibility of the brand, and ask how loyal would they be to their customers, if they bite the hand that feeds them! But then, there are some more who say that the brand can convert this whole crisis into something deeper, something that can result in greater advertizing equity! And all this really at times makes me wonder about the 'Truman Show' called our lives! And I am talking about not just the circus that has become of Tiger Woods' life, but the whole aspect of mind games when it comes to reaching the customer. Somewhere, politics seems to have permeated the world of 'customer-product relationships', where sympathy, shock tactics and blatant attention grabbing methods seem to be playing out.

Then again, can we hold marketers responsible? The competitive landscape is such these days with over 20 brands vying for that 100 rupees in your wallet. And Darwin's theory still very much holds - and to be fit in extraordinary times, you do need extraordinary measures. So, till you see your own face on a reality show, sit back and observe the fun!

When belief becomes an obsession

Today in a consumer behavior class, we studied the case of TiVo, the first entrant in smart television. The first player who brought in the concept of rewind, pause, record, fast forward live TV. The first player who wished to put control of what the consumer saw on TV into the customer's hands. The TATA SKYs of the west if you will? The first player who actually failed to capitalize on the first mover advantage, due to some strategic errors. The first player who failed to capture significant market share despite a brilliant idea.

One of the beauties of a class like consumer behavior is the fact that it ties in the psychology of a consumer into the science of marketing. Something as intangible as a consumer's thought process is deciphered and converted into something that can be used by firms to tactically reach the consumer. So we studied why TiVo went wrong. And the result lay in the fact that despite having a sterling idea, they looked at the idea as techies. They understood the idea and they expected the world to get it too! "D-uh!!", they said. They were overpriced, as was seen with newer players soon came out with products at half their rates, with a few lesser feature. But TiVo never took an effort to find out whether the features they were providing warranted such a premium over competition - or whether the consumer really cared for those features. It's more like giving me a pen that can sing and charging a bomb for it, without finding out whether I as a consumer want a singing pen! I perhaps just want a pen to write and care two hoots about the singing thing!

Again, why did they do that? Well, their belief that they had a phenomenal product turned into an obsession. They felt it was the best thing to happen to mankind after sliced bread, and so, were unwilling to look at a customer's viewpoint, and engage in activities that would draw the consumer. They simply made the consumer laugh - using humor in their ads and then very condescendingly said - go find out the rest on our website. All this for a product that cost a lot - a TV enhancer costing almost as much as a TV. All this when the customer has not yet understood the concept.

So, apart from a marketing lesson, I liked this story because it gave me another perspective. Belief and self-belief are good. They are brilliant when it comes to boosting one's confidence. But one should never let one's beliefs cloud good sense and judgement. I can't help but allude to Satyajit Ray's Jalsaghar, where the protagonist - a once-upon-a-time-rich man spends his every last penny to put on a show of pomp and prosperity, till he finally collapses literally and metaphorically to his inability to sustain that image. So, every once in a while, one must really step back from the cheers and adulation, and see whether the praises and positive comments coming in are true and meaningful. Every once in a while, one must look at one's set of beliefs and cull out the ones based on senseless reasons. Change is what is permanent, and the more nimble we are, the more longer can we sustain.

Marketing in your face!

I still vividly remember a chap who used to sell rat poisons. Not for any other reason, but the fact that his advertizing techniques looked absolutely awe striking back then. This chap used to walk around with a huge banner stuck to a stick, that had a small wheel on it. So this guy would wheel it around, and the banner had a clipart description of what the poison would do. I don't know whether anyone bought anything from him, but as far as advertizing goes - hats off to him indeed.

The other day, I saw another piece of advertizing that caught my attention. I forget the firm, but there was an ad for a financial service, along with a number you're supposed to call. And this data was printed on a sheet of paper that actually was the centerpiece of... hold your breath.... the headrest on an airplane seat!!! So imagine, this firm had actually captured one and a half hours of undivided eyeball attention. So much for in-flight entertainment. As though that were not enough, later, I saw another piece of advertizing by Vodafone, if I remember correctly, touting their pay-per-second plan on the back of a bus seat! They sure as hell have Mumbai traffic to thank for making me completely aware of the nitty-gritty details of their proposed plan. In your face adveritizing? Absolutely!!

This is the age of hoardings on top of skyscrapers, mobile advertizing vans parked at strategic locations, ads on lamp-posts, bridges, buses, whole local trains, and so on. I wonder what can be next. Perhaps we can extrapolate rat-poison-man to the next level and redefine a field sales person. Looking at the degree of in-your-face advertizing, the next time someone says that she or he is a field salesperson, do ensure you ask for the person's exact job description. Given our current status of advertizing, I wouldn't be surprised if the person walked the streets with a banner dangling from his/her neck, detailing the features of the newest electronic gadget to hit the street! And if a prospective consumer were to walk up to the salesperson and show sufficient interest, the consumer could even get to see a demo of the product! Sounds interesting? Well, let's wait a couple of years, this type of advertizing might just become the norm of the season...

The changing face of Rural India - Education

When we used to deal with the topic of India's population, and the issue of child labor, as young, adolescent students, we almost always imagined the errant parents as being vultures, out to make a quick buck by sending their kids off to some God-forsaken workplace and making them work their lives off. We felt that the parents perhaps always look upon their offspring as just another pair of hands - one mouth more to feed, but two hands more to work. No doubt some cases of such inconsiderate parents might exist, but what I realized, over a short rural jaunt, was that that cannot be a generalization.


This could be a trend in AP alone, but almost every rural inhabitant we spoke to, sent their kids to school - male and female kids, both! I must say, that fact was truly refreshing to note. They sent their kids to elementary school, and if the government school was not as good, they took the pains of sending their kids all the way to the next big town to study at a private school. Some even sent kids to a residential school. If a large factory was located in the village, the powers-that-be of the factory ensured that a good school like a DAV (which is a rather prestigious school in south India) could come up in the vicinity. And the rural population, was more that willing, if not happy to send their kids there. Some even ensured they sent their kids only to the big school in the town. Why? Like one farmer said, "If they studied here, they would come home in the recess and not go back. But if they went to the town, they can come home only when the bus would come at the end of the school day." Some farmers had actually sent their children to study abroad - farmers who perhaps were illiterate, had kids returning with masters degrees from places like US and UK. And they took immense pride while describing their successful children who had become doctors or engineers, and they all thanked the Indian IT industry for allowing their children to go where no one of their own generation had ever gone before. When asked what they would do with any extra money they could get through their efforts, they all, almost unanimously averred that they would spend on their kids' education.

(Pic courtesy Sai Pondalur, at Irkigoodam near Miriyalguda, AP)

Clearly, the people are cognizant of the importance of education . Now the only question is whether a supply can be arranged to meet the demand!

A rural jaunt : some reflections

They say 'Opposites Attract'. I agree. Two entities in stark opposition to one another attract me to observe them. Take for instance rural and urban life. Urban life is so very different from rural life, that it almost appears to be a microcosm of species and behaviors that are unique in themselves. And living an unadulterated urban life, makes one forget some of the finer aspects that are almost second nature to those who live in pristine rural areas. And if we happen to take a break from our urban rat race and try to take a sneak peek into a bucolic life, we notice so many beautiful aspects that almost get us all reflective! A few of my observations after a recent taste of rural flavors! (This is an actual picture I took at Chillapur near Miriyalaguda, in Andhra Pradesh)

• It is possible for the total number of people around you at a market place, to be equal to the total population of the village.
• It is possible for the only sound I hear to be the sound of my own voice.
• It is perfectly normal to have electricity for just half a day - evenings and nights alone and still be happy in the sweltering heat
• It is possible for the lives of all people known to me to revolve around farmlands and rainfall
• It is normal for kids to come home from school and not toss their bags on the bed and demand something to eat, but rather to pick up a pitcher and trudge along to a river bank to get water for the household - all the time bearing a smile on their faces.
• Every human being is treated with immense respect, no matter who they may be. An offering of water and tea to random visitors is almost taken for granted. In fact you ought to be surprised if such an offering were not to come through to you.
• Every 'position holder' is treated with awe. For an outside observer, the position may not have much bearing in the greater scheme of things, but for the people around, such 'position holders' are BIG PEOPLE!

But one similarity between the urban and rural people is the stress on personal satisfaction before looking to the welfare of others. The basic nature of using personal power if any to appropriate available resources to oneself, while being aware that such appropriation is completely against the so-called 'equitable distribution' of resources seems to be a trend that exists across people, irrespective of their station in life! Call it human nature or call it a habit that emanates from the lack of sufficient resources - I'd prefer to call it the latter, because then at least we have some hope to perhaps improve, and given that Hope wins Nobel Prizes (case in point - Mr Barack Obama), who knows, one day we can have a society where everyone is equally happy!

What has B school taught me - Part 1

It has been almost a week since I wrote here and each day has passed with my walking back from class with an all new thought in my head, and an ever-strong determination to voice my thoughts. And then all hell breaks loose, when I look at my to-do list and realize that I need a minimum of 30 hours in the day to be able to strike off 10% of my list! But tonight, I decided that Thought Center has been off-center for too long now, and so, at 3 am, while munching on a piece of chocolate, I collated my thoughts and, well, sat down to write!

What has B school meant to me so far? Well, one of our alums had said somewhere that for her, B school was all about a journey towards self-discovery. I couldn't agree with her more. I, for one, have been able to look at life from a different perspective, after coming here. Attribute it to the fact that I am out of home for the first time, fending for myself, and having to take full care of all my requirements, from submitting assignments on time to procuring toothpaste before it runs out! So it has to some extent made me appreciate the life that was - not just the domestic aspect, but even the life at work. Once we graduate, God willing, we would need to enter the workplace - transformed. From being someone who meekly followed, we might be expected to lead. The stars would be expected from us, since after all, we have been through the lathe machine called B school!

And nothing can get us prepared for the people skills test that we would be put through. Unless we make a conscious attempt to appreciate the people around us. School gives us an immense opportunity to interact with people from backgrounds starkly different from ours. I used to feel extremely happy about my origins in Mumbai, and did to a very great extent believe that my city was responsible for making me who I am. Till I met someone here at school, someone, who has grown up in a remote village in AP, and has literally slogged hard to get here. From life in a municipal school (since that was the only school in the village), this person has studied hard, and managed to push himself up. Finding the municipal school inadequate to satisfy his aspirations, he managed to be the first in his family to venture out to a 'private school' in another village to study. With agriculture-oriented parents who have not even managed to see a school leaving certificate through their education lives, this person worked his way into one of India's premier engineering institutes thereafter, through his sheer drive, motivation and passion to excel. He managed to leave his peers behind, while forging his way into the future.

Yet, what he thinks back about fondly are the long bicycle rides to and from school with friends, the stealing of mangoes from the zamindar's orchards, the evenings spent talking about movies and girls! All these reminisces, without even an ounce or a tinge of arrogance, not even once portraying an air of 'look at where I came from, and look at where I have reached'. And while his academic achievements are nothing short of stellar, he still feels that we city bred individuals are miles ahead in terms of achievements, since we can speak fluent English, and carry ourselves more gracefully in public, something he feels he cannot still do. And when he makes this statement, I am even more awestruck at his stark simplicity, in spite of his achievements.

And that is when I realize that life is a great leveller. One can bask in the sunshine of success one moment and be thrashed against the rocks of failure the next. And at the end of the day, one realizes that almost everyone, irrespective of where they started from, end up at almost the same level.

What I saw Wednesday : AP CM missing

Bizzarre! But the AP CM had been missing for over 9 hours by the close of the day. His chopper went missing off the radar. And people wonder about the fate of the leader of the masses. A man who apparently was very pro-people. So that's all from my side here! More like a bookmark of something that happened in AP while I was in AP!

What I saw Wednesday and thought on Thursday

Yup, in Maximum city now. Back to the sounds, sights, lights, life of Mumbai. And yes, it's Ganpati time, festival time!!! Ganpati is here, in every nook and corner, and this was what I truly missed on Sunday when I was not here for Ganpati for the first time in my life ever. So this post is going to cover my 'views' and thoughts on La fiesta en la Mumbai.


I had put in a post last year describing 'Why rains in India make so much noise'. Back then, I had written about how we celebrate our festivals, beginning with Janmashtami and going on through Dashera, Eid and Diwali. So, I won't be repeating myself here, and talking about how we bring Ganpati home, keep him at home and celebrate his presence and so on. This time, my take is going to be on a slightly different metaphysical level of consciousness. Nah! Nothing profound, I just wanted to use those words!!!

So, I for one, generally have seen that the less exposed one is to the 'upward' way of life, the happier they are. The maximum quarrels happen inside the closed confines of a car, not while packed like sardines - four on a scooter. As one moves on in life the endless pursuit of the top spot, I feel, makes one forget the finer, sweeter things in life. This was the theme of my Ithaca post as well. In fact, I have put in quite a few posts on these themes, and I'll link back to them at the end of the post. Now, given that it's Ganpati time, and its a festival for the masses, this feeling is even more pronounced and this is what I saw when I went for the Visarjan (immersion) of our idol.

At the Visarjan place, it was amazing to see so many people, so many children, all running around, enjoying the moment. It was a major event in their lives - people pushing their idols on hand-carts, children screaming 'Ganpati Bappa Morya' while running behind the hand cart. Most of these were street children, who lived around the tank, but wanted to savor a part of the whole event. Some enthusiastic children took it upon themselves to try to regulate traffic as the Ganpati Cart made its way to the Visarjan tank. People were throwing Gulaal all over the place. There were vendors selling soap bubble kits, whistles, blow horns, balloons, food and what not. No masks on peoples' face - Swine Flu might as well go take a hike! The street kids would crowd around anyone who was distributing sweets as Prasad, screaming 'Aunty mujhe do na Prasad'. The street kids were so chirpy and cheerful, and so, I wondered, with awe - they have no idea how their lives are going to shape up in the years to come, let alone the fact that they may not really have the security of two square meals a day in the years to come. But preoccupation, they had none. Worries and cares, they showed none on their countenance.

But the biggest rap on my head came from this child I saw. He was polio stricken, with crooked legs and hence he used his hands to move around. He was there with a bunch of his friends, and all his friends were crowding around the wired barricades surrounding the pool to watch the immersions. This kid wanted to see the proceedings too, and so he tugged at the pants of one of his friends, who immediately hoisted him up and sat him down on the parapet wall around the barricades. Clinging tightly to the pole, this child watched as the idols were being taken for immersion, and the smile on his face could have lighted up the whole of India. After a while, his friends wanted to leave, and maintaining the same smile on his face, the child hobbled away on his hands behind his friends.

Tiny things bring joy to people. But somewhere the pursuit of an unknown perceived good makes us forget what we have right now. We are left glossing over what may be right for us, without caring about the smaller things around us that can help us derive simple satisfaction. And then again, you cannot but fail to remember Davies - "What life is this if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare."

And here are the links to older posts that carry a similar theme -
Why Rains in India make so much Noise - The Ganpati edition
Why Rains in India make so much Noise - The Ganpati edition - part 2
My Ithaca post
The finer nuances
kids!

The finer nuances

I sometimes feel that as we reach a certain degree of sophistication in life, we leave some of the finer nuances behind. Nah, this is not another one of my random weekend ramblings. But this is something that I've been thinking about since quite a while, and a few instances here and there sort of fortified my thought. My main point is that we accumulate education, wealth and elevate ourselves to a certain level in life, and somewhere along that route, we lose track of a few finer aspects of human relations. We perhaps find them too trivial, or at times, it just doesn't strike us.
We live a pampered life. We have maids who come and clean up the place, beginning from making our beds to cleaning the rooms, setting the place right and so on. But how many of us actually realize the impact of what these people do for us? We wake up in the morning, attend class, do assignments, class preps, crib about how terribly tight and hectic our lives are, and how we desperately need a break. We are made to believe that we cannot survive without these additional support services we are provided. And those who provide these services, are made to believe that we are these super-busy super-talented individuals who have to be treated with a certain degree of deference. And in adhering to that image, and treating us with respect, they do a perfect job. They give a pleasant smile when they see us, they speak in gentle low voices. Some even bow when they see us. They hold doors open for us, offer to carry some of our stuff if they see us somewhere. And how do we respond? Indifferently. How many people's names do we know? How many times have we thanked them for their support? Granted, this is their work, but a small thank you can go a very very long way, in making them feel wanted, in making them feel that their 'thankless' job is indeed meaningful to someone. Let's face it, if we are asked to do their job, we'd be rather terrible at it, and given the fact that we find it tough to manage our own tasks and time, this additional responsibility would, if not anything else, throw us completely off balance.

The other day, this chap came over to clean my room, while I was in. I just randomly asked him his name, and where he was from. You should have seen the huge smile on his face, and the effusive manner in which he set about answering me. He told me about how he was here doing an internship in hospitality and this housekeeping work was part of an internship task list. He told me about how he wanted to do engineering, but couldn't because of financial constraints. Then he told me about how much this degree in hospitality means to him, since he needed to get a good job in order to get his sisters married. And at the end, he asked me whether he was wasting my time telling me all this, and I thought, 'What kind of an image are we portraying as a civil society at a slightly higher standard of living compared to the housekeepers and maids? Is it one of an educated elite thinker, or a super busy humanoid cash register?'

Think about this.....

Ikea pulls out of plans to set up shop in India - Retail, the big picture

Retail in India, I feel is a totally different story, as compared to retail in any other country. It is more of a cultural aspect than anything else, according to me. We as Indians are wired differently and for us, a shopping experience is not more about finding everything under one roof, as it is about going from shop to shop. Tell me, do we, and I speak of the ardent shoppers, feel happy and content after making a bulk purchase at one single shop? I, for one, don't. I feel like I have let go of some opportunity, in picking up all my bargains at one single shop. For this reason, I feel that retail in India is an all new ballgame, with the players needing to concentrate on how to break into the Indian psyche, and make a point.

Take for instance shopping malls in India. A typical mall in a foreign country has a whole host of shops that sell anything and everything from clothes to coffee to sweets to jewellery. And in India, that concept somehow doesn't seem possible, since for many jewellery shopping doesn't begin and end at People's, but rather begins at Zaveri Bazaar, goes all the way through Tanishq and ends perhaps at the place suggested by so and so's grandmother, since that shop is very conscious of quality.

How do we go shopping for clothes? We segregate our purchases into good clothes and replaceable clothes. So, the good clothes are bought at an upmarket place, while the use and throw variety is generally picked up anywhere. Likewise, furniture. The whole concept of assemble-it-yourself furniture is unknown to us. We need a cabinet made, we call Pandu the carpenter, who brings along another helper and wham! a cabinet is ready in 3 days, and the cabinet fits snugly into the 2 feet by 3.75 feet nook we pointed out to Pandu. So, that Ikea pulled out of its plans to enter India, is not very surprising to me.

Malls have mushroomed in India, more so in Mumbai over the past few years. But the funniest part is that some of these malls have sprung up in the heart of the 'flea market' shopping districts. I speak specifically of a couple of malls in Dadar in Mumbai. I, for one, could not understand why someone would set up shop while in direct competition with the road side shops who care two hoots about long term sustainability and margins. All they need is to turn in a profit for that day, so they can eat that night! Tomorrow is a new story that can be tackled separately.

What poses a question to me, rather is what the nature of retail in India, really is? Will malls continue to be looked upon as places to hang out in and nothing else? Will Mumbai see the closing down of many more of the mushroomed malls, like it happened with Crossroads? Will the Indian consumer get out of the traditional mindset and look beyond the shop around the corner? And also, what is the scope of organized retail in India, say retail through the internet, and what can incentivize the Indian consumer and hence the retailer to pursue the same goals?

It's always relative!

A friend of mine who belongs to Chennai was going to Delhi for a meeting this week. From the grimy ever hot climate of Chennai, he was going to single digit winter temperatures in Delhi. He 'Facebooked' "Petrified of going to Delhi. Its too damn cold." I saw the snippet, and smirked to myself. Here I am, at -23, enjoying the weather. The cutest part is, no one's on the streets, and there is a scary lull. The branches are still, the sun is bright, almost blinding, and the minute you open the door for the paper, it hits you in the face. Go out and stand, for more than 3 minutes, your nose freezes, tears come out, and your hands get numb. In spite of a fleece, a parka and leather gloves. The cold creeps in.

I came into the house, and over a cup of piping hot tea, turned on my computer. A caption on Yahoo, says - the 5 Coolest Places in the World. Juxtaposition, Ding indeed!!!

After reading this, I said " I craved for shoes, till I saw a man with no feet". I then sent this article with this caption to my Chennai friend, in a mail that said, 'It's always relative'. He then, boldly decided to go to Delhi with no woolen clothes!

Tantrums : An anecdote

Three of us met after a long time the other day. One of my friends had dark circles under her eyes and she was visibly tired. Her kid was in the 'terrible twos' bracket. Over an Aztec coffee (she had 2 espresso shots), this friend of mine was discussing her kid's tantrums. ' He refuses to eat and wants to be out all day long! Now how can I keep taking him out all the time??? He know how to count, but will repeat numbers backwards because he doesn't want to, and because it makes me mad! He refuses to sleep at night, saying he wants to play ball!!! At 3 am at night!' At this another friend remarked, "I am lucky, I have a dog! Feed it, walk it, forget it. Obedient to the core, and extremely loving. Tantrums? How do you spell tantrums?", she said with a look of morbid triumph, as she sipped her iced tea.

Not having had a chance to experience either case, I kept quiet. But i began to wonder - 'why do kids throw a tantrum? They don't see either parent stamping their feet, or making asinine demands, or refusing to eat or sleep or engaging in any such mindless activity. So where do they learn the fine art of tantrumming and making parents' life hell????' I started homeward, lost in such thoughts. I was waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I absently stared outside. A lady was crossing the massive road with a dog on a leash. The huge road was split into a two-way road by means of a divider. Both sides of the traffic were waiting for the light to turn green. She crossed half the road and reached the divider. She had a bulky shopping bag in one hand and the leash in the other. She started to get off the divider island and on to the road, and suddenly her canine refused to budge. She tugged at the leash. It didn't swerve an inch. She called out to it - Lenny, Minnie, something. Uh-huh - no movement. She bent down and spoke to it. 30 seconds on the signal timer. By the looks of it, the dog was a grown Pomeranian. She called to it again, but the dog refused to move. Finally in a wave of exasperation, she swooped the dog up like a child, and quickly rushed across the road.

And I thought - Tantrums ? They're in the air on earth.............

The Blackberry Revolution

The other day, I received a mail from a friend at 3:30 am. Nothing very important. Just a response to the usual 'Hey Wassup' email. The response was a two liner and the tag line said - 'Sent via Blackberry'. Whoa! This got me thinking about the great Blackberry Revolution.

In a previous post I had spoken about the sea change in technology in a gap of just a few years. There was a time, when mail meant ordinary post. And now,the same ordinary post has been christened 'snail mail' and technology is developing at a feverish pace for getting the world closer. And now, the whole buzzword called 'collaboration' is almost reaching a crescendo, with people being forever accessible on cellphones and email. And I mean forever, thanks to the Blackberry revolution! There was a time, when people's contact numbers were their desk numbers at work and only the closest quarters were provided the sacrosanct home numbers. One wasn't supposed to call up another's home, unless it was a 'Mayday situation'. And now, thanks to the cellphone, all sense of decency in terms of not disturbing someone at 1 am at night has gone to the dogs! One receives messages and emails at the dinner table, and these tasks are 'immediate actionables'. Thank God for spoons since immediate action means an immediate jab on the text editor of the cell phone or Blackberry. The last task of the day no longer remains listening to calm music or reading a book. The last task of the day is one last check of the email, and responses therein. But then again, that check may not be the last check, since there could be a call or a message at 2 am at night, and you could send out another response at 2:05 am, jabbing at the keys of your blackberry like a man or a woman possessed.

No doubt, technology makes life a lot easier. I remember reading an article on the i-phone's acceptance in Japan. The article described a day in the life of a certain Claude, and how his cell phone was his true companion for everything. And no, what was written was not an exaggeration, since people do swipe cell phones at payment counters in Tokyo! Here's the excerpt that appealed to me the most and I quote -

"If the iPhone is the holy grail of hardware and software design, then Japanese cell phones are the holy grail of convergence devices. In no other part of the world will you find a phone that checks email, trade stocks, watch TV, act as a charge card, plays music, interface with other phones, act as portable computer, book tickets, 3+ megapixel cameras, unlock doors, remotely control other devices, GPS navigation, mobile shopping, bar code and fingerprint scanners, push to talk with multiple people, video chatting and conferencing, and of course . . . cell phone.

I spoke to my Japanese friend and asked him what he thought about the iPhone. Most people in America love it. Most of the press are enamored. To preface, Claude is a 27y.o. Japanese male I met in my college days. He lives right outside Tokyo working as a textile designer. He thinks the iPhone is super sexy. To him, it doesn't look like any other phone out there. He loves how slim it is and is completely smitten with the multi-touch interface, but when asked if he'd give up his Sharp branded phone; he says no.

Claude's typical day starts with him checking his email on his phone. He gets all his daily tasks and calendaring events this way. He then syncs it with his computer. He pays for the subway by placing the phone on a kiosk granting him access past the gates. The commute is spent watching TV on his phone by rotating the screen. A small antenna extends up and catches the wireless digital TV signals (something we will never have here in America). About 45 minutes later, he's in Tokyo and heads to a vending machine to buy fresh fruit and water. He places the phone up against a pad. The vending machine reads his bank information which is tied into his phone. He then places his thumb on the phone's tiny thumbprint reader to verify his identity. As he makes his way to the office, he waves the phone near the door handle to unlock it. During a 10 minute break, he's flips thru a magazine and sees something he wants to buy. The item has a tiny stamp size barcode pictogram next to it. He scans the pictogram with his phone. A receipt and shipping confirmation hits his email minutes later. As the day ends, he syncs with his work computer and goes grocery shopping paying for items with his phone. Before heading home, he heads to a bar his friend has invited him too. He uses the phone to give him step-by-step directions. The day is finally over and his phone's battery is nearing the end of its life. He plugs it in and goes about the rest of the evening relaxing before bed"

Sounds nice? Well, it would be, if technology managed to just be an assistant. But in today's world of the 'forever busy' individuals, sending emails in the dead of the night just seems sooooo 'kewl' that people literally end up being servile dependents of technology. Slavish maybe! It looks cool, it looks busy, it looks important, but it is addictive! A friend of mine once complained how her husband didn't find time to talk to her at home, and so, she hijacked him to a coffee shop, only to find him busy punching deals into his Blackberry in response to a continuous Bloomberg feed! She, being at her wits' end later remarked that her father who had no jazzy gadgets to help him was equally, if not more accomplished in life and so, all these cranky objects are just a reason to be inefficient and disorganized. Wow! This got me thinking. Do we really need to get so attached to technology? Does our or for that matter any line of work truly warrant emails and messages at 2 am at night? That too when the recipients are in my own time zone? Is this addiction the reason why all advertisements for vacations scream 'Reclaim your life' or 'Freedom from cellphones' or 'Break Free'? Hmm... So, late tonight, after a day of continuous emails, calls and messages, at work, I was finally enjoying a cup of coffee and yet again, the phone began to ring. And this time, I decided to act differently.... Coffee with music - a deadly combination and indeed one of the biggest advantages of having your favorite song as your cell phone's ringtone!