The Corporate Jungle

High rise buildings, posh cabins with cushions that bake your back in summer, table service for tea and coffee... at first glance, a corporate looks like the most cultured pocket of humanity. Second and the third, yeah its still does. Wait for a month and you will start hearing wolves gossiping in the cafeteria.

I have always wondered how no matter where we are our mundane human behaviour overlays itself regardless of the change in scenery. Like for example, in front of the most magnificent monument, you will still find couples bickering about whose fault it was that they missed the tour bus in the morning. So I guess a corporate office is no different.

You will find horses, those people who work hard with dignity and gain respect (umm, not enough pay check though)
You have the hippos, of course no need to explain
You have the tigers, smart, independent, idealistic and go for the kill action folks who believe and do what they think will deliver and not so surprising succeed most of the time
You have the rabbits, busy busy busy but just a carrot to show in the end
You have hyenas, not so bright to get the job done, but sharp and cunning enough to steal the result from somewhere
Giraffes, visionaries who don't actually do, just ideate (oh God, did I just use that word)
Then you have the king, the Lion, who hold the pack together by strength of character, who knows when to push the tigers and when to back off, who can drag the hippo out of the pit and team it with a horse to balance them both.

In any corporate office, you will find all these types of people. Should work perfectly right? I mean this is the right mix isn't it. Or so I thought. Then I joined a company where, the hippos were so many that the pond was not enough, hyenas at the top and the horses on sick leave. I guess the lions and tigers were too smart to join. Phew, if Darwin had worked at a corporate he would have said, "survival of the thickest".

Goes to show that just because you add the ingredients and boil what you get will be food.

I know you are now wondering what animal I am if I am actually wasting time and writing about it in the blog. Obviously the B, but to my credit, not always!

Smogged in by a Dragon

Where was I for over a year? Hum, running around mongolia, walk among the clouds and on the sides managing a bunch of Chinese whome I never in my dreams thought I would end up managing.

Time I suppose is a prankster, the only one who seems to have eternal fun at our expense of course. What began as a contract to write SOPs, became a commitment to lead a bunch of Chinese into an adventure in modern training methods and team systems and such.

There is something touching about people who do not understand that when someone says, "I am on your side" they mean the exact opposite. And its even more touching when they turn back completely baffled and politely ask "why?". After working with some who took pride in their corporate bitchism, the refereshing honesty I find in China has allowed me to stand up finally to my full height, put my arms around my collegues and feel the warmth of people working together.

A year has gone by and I am yet again changed and reshaped by the hands of a dragon so fast that even I can't follow. But it should be ok, if all I feel is an anticipation for the next day right?

Playing Dress Up

A friend of mine sent me this article http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/dont-like-this-temple-choose-another/article4313507.ece. It’s on this age old controversy on why women should be allowed into Sabarimala. He was just curious to know what I think of the whole thing. But what I don’t understand is why he expects me to really care about this.

In a country where a woman cannot step into a bus without fear of harassment, in a country where women are judged, pitied and persecuted at every turn, an acre of no entry zone hardly matters. As if women can expect to safely make the passage to the hills without getting harassed on the way. For women in India, I am sorry to say my friend, the temple hardly matters, we have bigger battles to fight.

I cannot help but wonder if we truly are a developing nation ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with modern humanity. Are we just playing dress up and pretending to be liberal to cover up our true savage selves? If I wear a western suit and bash a man to death with a club, am I any less a barbarian? As a society we have no right to calls ourselves liberal until we stop the honor killings, the rapes, the corruption, the road rage and the abuse of power that we all allow if not participate in.

This notion that money and education makes one liberal and they shoulder the burden of modernizing India is as ridicules as Asaram’s idea of self-defense. Everyday, I see educated software engineers on their way to work selfishly disregarding traffic rules leading to havoc on the streets. I see the rich who selfishly and meticulously manipulate their accounts just to avoid paying tax. Sadly, we make engineers but not educated engineers, we make doctors but not humanitarians, we make politicians but not leaders.

All that we have learnt in the last decade seems to be boiling down to intolerance and a sense of superiority complex that’s marginalizing the under privileged. Of course, apart from these we did gain a lot of coke bottles and junk foods that our next generation is over-dozing on but hey we are teaching them the tricks of getting away with anything in India….

An elephant made of silicon

Another unremarkable birthday went by a month ago and some of my friends thought I am a bit backward in the gadget race; they gifted me a coupon at an electronics store. In olden days, kings used to punish bad poets by gifting them elephants. The burden of feeding an elephant given by the king and the fear of being given an another one if they attempted poetry again was enough to save sensitive intellectual minds.

Scarce did I realize that I was buying an elephant when I encashed that coupon. This is how it all began: A merry party of three (of which two were already converts to the gadget religion) walked into an exclusive electronic showroom; result, a few minutes of blindness in one and temporary hypnotised brain control in the other two. Rows and rows of TVs, talking fridges, mobiles as good as tablets, tablets as good as laptops and laptops as good as supercomputers were all doing their best to take control of my brain.

Since I own a 'smart' phone (of course it never told me I will look stupid in a red raincoat when i asked), a laptop, an mp3 audio player and an mp4 video player, I was at a loss on what to buy. My ever helpful friends pointed out that a tablet will fill the gap I have between the 4 inches video player and 15 inches laptop and what more, it will fill my free palm.

After exploring iPads with retina eye and without and android tablets, I decided that my ordinary eye cannot see the difference between any of them and I just bought a handy budget tab. Little did I know that this flat unassuming piece of silicon can drive me nuts. First I needed to buy a cover which was half the price of the damn thing and then a screen guard, and then a 3G connection (you are apparently mad if you try to run a tab on ordinary 2G) and then they said my tab won't 'talk' to my laptop because it is out dated and I better change the OS or the laptop itself. My outdated laptop is still earning me a few lakhs a year while my new tab has only drained my money. So my laptop is staying (I think I heard it chuckle just now). As for the tab, at least I am becoming a professional temple runner.

But, just wondering... Where are all the gadgets that used to make life easy?

An Exile's Return

Two years ago, when I wrote what I presumed as my last post here, I was wearing pink shades that said 'the world is getting better' and I can step back and take a vacation to the land called "just-my-life". Well today, the shades are broken and I know that such mythical lands don't exist.

Cynical you may think, but there is something liberating in knowing that not matter which path you take, you will have to walk through the obnoxious fumes of a decaying society and the rot of humanity. I have come to understand that this rot is the fertilizer that nourishes not only the worst, but also the best in us. Seems like its just a question of choice in the end for us pitiful humans.

Like a pleasantly weary traveller who comes back to a silent home, I am dusting my posts here and gearing up to begin again.

Its not goodbye, if you leave your coat behind'

For two years, this bit of space in the chatotic world of the Web has served as my sanctuary. A place where I can just be and not be. What made it so was the fact that I had no need to paint face and color my thoughts and really not care who were visting these pages. Now that someone I know has barged in here and not just trampled on my words, they have also drawn a part of the street with them.

Alas, this is home no more. I will be looking for another spot where I can start over as a new being. Thanks for all those who visited and who knows, someday you might be blog surfing and you might just cross mine.

All the Glitter and Fancy Gloves

Its been so long since I wrote anything in my blog. Somewhere last year I moved back to good old paper, but an anonymous comment here sort of triggered the itch to blog again.

Fame could be a fickle mistress, but for some she is always there at least garbed as notoriety. No one should have known this better than Michael Jackson. A hundred things were said about him and still are, but how much of these reflect the man himself? Strange that while you are alive people talk about your bad habit of picking your nose, but when you die, they talk about how good a human being you were. Jackson should be laughing at the irony of it from the Neverland he should be in now.

The moon walking singer was an icon for a whole generation of Indians. So many of us sang along with his when he sang, “They don’t really care about us” to drum beats. The whole country would have melted all its gold and beat a way to his door step if he had only asked. His charm was like a spell that even melted the saffron clad Bal Tacharey.

But lets shake off the glitter, and hang up the shoes. Remove those absurd gloves and scrap off the grafted skin; what will we find underneath?

Not that I was up close enough to know, and not that those up close managed to take that close a peek. But those songs that have been his making and breaking, life and soul should mean something right? Most even ignoring the words sounded rebellious, fresh, and sexy. Something like a teenager rebelling against being grounded. But some also spoke of a sensitivity and awareness so alien to most people. They served as the anthem for equality and a reminder for those lost in the mad rush of the world. But most of all they revealed a man lost in his image, looking for a place where he would truly belong in this world. I hope his fame and money or the obscene distortion of both, gave him the freedom to be just himself, however absurd it looked to the lesser mortals of the world.

Thanks to whatever angel above for sprinkling a little bit of fairy dust on the world once in a while. They did make MJ glitter.

The power of the insignificant

A couple of weeks ago, someone bought a pair of sandals and specs for an obscene amount of money. Suffice to say that the money would have been enough to built schools in over a hundred villages. The reason why it was priced so high is even more baffling given that Gandhi the owner of the revered specs and sandals would have never bothered to pay so much for them. I bet he would have been much happier if 60 crore Indians followed at least one of his principles he fought so much for.
Why is it that people are so passionate about such insignificant things while the workings of great minds are confined to the realms of legends and never brought down to practical mortal levels? Why would the world value Shakespeare’s original manuscripts to millions while the most important thing, his writing, is available at every street corner bookshop? What’s important, the paper or the words?
Maybe, the Kohinoor diamond is worth the money. The piece itself has a value in terms of its rarity and beauty. But Gandhi’s slippers are placed on a pedestal way above all other slippers of the world because it was worn by Gandhi and not because it’s the most beautiful or durable slipper in the world. What is worth the money and time is Gandhi’s ideals, a commodity that’s getting so rare nowadays that soon nothing will be left to even auction even if a buyers wants to pay for it.

An History of Distortion

If there comes a time when I have to share the credit for by knowledge, however meger it is, Hollywood will take about 50% of it. From the best slang for the best curse words to some of the lesser known and less useful facts like white christmas. Yesterday, I saw the movie on Alexander. To be honest, it was a bit boring. A bit high on the dramatics, low on action and loads of bits and pieces that just happened. In fact I slept through most of it after 'taming of the horse' scene until Alexander's death. In between in my drowsy state, I heard Alexander frequently spouting romantic dialogs. I didn't think over it until later when it hit me that there wasn't a female in sight long enough on screen to justify all those dialogs.

Imagine my suprise when the greatest teacher of our times, wikipedia, revealed that Alexander was spouting those dialogs at Hephaistion, apparently the most significant love of his life who came next only to his kingdom. I rewinded all the records inside my head on Alexander and I remembered reading about his famous horse Bacupalus, general Ptolemy, and his wives but nothing on his childhood friend, second in command, right hand man and possible lover. A result of selective historical national amnesia I suppose.

Hepaistion had the misfortune of being born with the wrong gender for the post of Alexander's great love. If he had been a woman, he would now be sharing space with Juliets and Cleopatra's of history. Poor chap, although I doubt he would have known he would be ignored so much. He could have been just a close frined of Alexander but the possibility of something more to the relationship had effectively ensured that he disappear. Even Alexander wouldn't have expected glory to be such a selective mistress. After all he did do everything short of building the Taj Mahal to remember his freind. I bet he would have built it too if he had met Shajahan. Then again Shajahan would have told him the truth that Mumtaz being a woman was more likely to bask in the Taj and the consequent historical glory that came with it. To his credit, Alexander did try to make Hephaistion God though.

Why was Hephaistion not worthy of mention as much as a horse in our history books? Because he was a man who sullied the perfect christian heterosexual image Alexander should have had? If this could happen in the story of a legend who roamed the fringes of India, what have they done to that rich mixture of legends, myths and icons inside our boundries. How much is true about Ghazni, the Rajputs, the Mughals, the Chera's, Chozhas, Pandiyas and all the way up to Gandhi and Nehru? Is truth taking a beating in the iconization of our heroes? How much have we carefully errased from history? Are these great men made by us after we cook and extract our legends?

I still rememered the shock I felt when at the age of 19 I read somewhere that Gandhi used to ignore his wife and sleep with young girls just to prove his own chastity and strenght of will. Now I know that Gandhi was human and had his own faults but at 19 it was the shattering blow that brought down the greatest icon every Indian is feed from birth. I felt utterly stupid when I learnt about the emergency in my twenties and that too through 'Midnight's Children' when I have been told that Indira Gandhi was a great leader and prime minister who had the guts to take on Pakistan ignoring the US. Would it be detremental to have studied about the emergency in our history lessons? Why are the faults and the more humane episodes of our icons removed from history? Is truth valued only as long as it is safe and acceptible to the social norms?

India's First Estate

Last week like most Indians, I was anxiously watching the news as the drama in Mumbai evolved. And for the first time I watched as the first estate of India, the press rose to the occasion. And I must admit that when all the curtains fell on this horror show all that remained was a deep feeling of loss and a jumble of questions floating in my head. But once the tangles started loosening up, a few questions kept recurring in my head.


First thing was the recurring use of the word 'hostage'. With the way things were unfolding, it looked more like a siege that a hostage situation. I mean no one was holding anyone for ransom. It so happened that people were trapped inside and they tried their best not to get shot. But why was it termed as a hostage situation? I was surprised to see the usage of that term even in BBC. I could be wrong here, but I would like to know if I am.


Another thing was the way the media was drawing conclusions for its audience. Even before the men involved in the whole rescue operations had a say in it. Panels were organized and interpretations forced down our throat. I mean, who should conclude how India deals with Pakistan and when?


A point to ponder is how far can you go in the name of 'right to information'. Was it such a bad idea to shut down news channels in Mumbai to avoid the spread of rumors? And how much can you dramatics news. It was disgusting to watch reporters falling over each other to get a few words out of people who have starved for the past 48 hours. And why wasn't there a distinction between paying homage to our martyrs and making a spectacle of people in their private moments of grief.


Another thing was 'selective reporting'. While the events in Mumbai deserved to be reported why were the other parts of the nation totally blacked out? I don't mean to say they should have run their usual fare despite the events, but surely the cyclone in TN was news worthy enough to get a mention at the far lower corner of the screen. At least it’s more important than the change in venue of cricket matches. It would have helped so many people who were caught unawares in the airports and train stations of the state. Was it because 'Nisha' was not sensational enough?


Sage Yavanshi managed an interview with the rain Gods and this is what they had to say.

"Those bastards, they ruined our campaign on climatic change. However, acknowledging the fact that they are the experts in gaining publicity, we intend to hire Mr Azam Amir for our next campaign. I mean, it’s no mean task to turn your image from mass murderer to helper of the security forces with 24 hours."

Regrets?

Another spectacular year has gone by and here I am, the tumbled and tired but not yet worn out product of the past 365 days (and alos all the other 365s gone by before). I can't help wonder how much I have changed and yet how unchaged I have become in the past year. Some part of me had died and some have come into being while some have just remained defining me as always. While birthdays are just like any other day, they are a good time to turn back just for a wink and move on. When I did that, I couldn't help but wonder if I would have done anything different the last year. Unfortunately, yes, I would have prefered to have nade different choices but then I again, I don't regret the ones I made. Afterall, they all had their own bit in ensuring where I stand now.

A question of importance

Frankly, the wrong question to think about when trying to drown in a tub of chocolate icecream, but I guess no time is the wrong time to ponder the biggest questions of life. And mind you it doesnt happen often. Eating chocolate icecream as an art that demands complete and utter devotion.

But once in a while, the mind refuses to listen to the melting miracle of icecream and wanders into domains it has no business wandering in. But once I got the question, its the worst brain itch so far. I have no problem spreading the itch to others, so here we go.

"Are humans no better (or worse) than animals or is there something 'more' to us?"

and yes, I confess that I thought of it only because I was wondering if a dog or a horse would enjoy the chocolate icecream as much as I do or will they just slurp it up and trot off without even realizing the divine taste sliding down their throat. (Disclaimer: This is just an example, if you dont like chocoalte icecream its okay....)

But seriously, do we have a special ability to rise above the basics of life and aim for some greatness on our own disregarding the social good? Basic refer to eating, sleeping, procreation and ensuring the safety of the procreated offsprings, hording for winter etc etc...

Do we have the power or will to indulge in things that DO NOT in anyway aid in the above mentioned needs. I agree we read poetry, we paint, we sing (come on its not always a primal trick to attract a mate) and we vote. But are these the things that define us as humans?

I can't help but feel that there is something just beyond all this that defines who we are. And life seems to be like a pilgrimage to that unknown shrine. I just hope that I take the right turns to get there in one peice.