Role Models

This is a unique post, which i wrote it for myself.. though it talks on Role models, can digress to anything under the sun.. and some of the lines are copied verbatim of my sir's lecture in TISS. Thank you Chandra sir for the pearls of wisdom

“Life is like a train on the kurla station platform and paces like a borivali express, makes u reach the destination, in no time”. To travel thru the journey, you don’t need to do much, to either get into or get out of the train; the people around you will help doing that. In similar ways, the assumed necessities and developments the present teens and generation considers a bare necessity is partly because of the hard working previous generation. When my dad looks at his career he sees himself coming a long way, from meager village schooling to a civil servant. Everyone has in their lives seen a transition and are attributed to role models and their associated ideals. He still remembers one professors who failed a single student in his class, who was none other his daughter-in-law.

Do we have any role models today? At the workplace, at home and elsewhere..

I was watching the movie “Life in a metro” which shows that the ends are what it matters and the journey is just a tool to reach (favoring the boss with an apartment –turned-brothel) the end. It also requires a stoic feeling and endless apathy to remain like the character X (forgot it now). I dont know if one of the reasons are that we are becoming more liberal as an individual, community and society.

Whom does the present generation idolize , is it the reformers of the day ( the likes of MNS ) or the cultural icons of the neo India (spaghetti straps or the six-pack dudes) or the guy next door – turned – overnight hero , thru another reality shows ( you should watch Roadies , every word will start and end with beep looped up- “beep, beep”), or is it the chetan bhagat of the day (who have followed their heart despite having the best of the jobs), to my mind, there are too many of them which the media portrays, each one in their own ways. But is there one who we can follow really well, completely?

This khichdi (read, overwhelming info on role models) leads us to no-where. Fine, let’s recollect Pavan verma from The great Indian middle class where in he says that after the demise of Nehru, an era of leaders was over and family as a unit stopped idolizing public figures. The virtues of the ascetic were slowly abhorred. and gradually the rise of market consciousness and examples of rags-to-riches thru public capital have led people go the stock-option way: High returns in short duration, but only at the cost of high risks. The question is can the same principle be applied in our personal lives as well? or should we try a more restrained approach towards goals in life – achievable targets and simple life.

For all the changes that have crept in the lives of people, for once I could say, people are working longer hours; help the GDP grow at unprecedented levels. It will perhaps take time when people look back and check if happiness quotient should be a better indicator of society than the ones used now.

Coming to education, again my professor’s words come to mind. It’s the outcome of the education that is exciting people and enabling them to take physical and mental risks and not the joy of journey alone. No parent is bothered if a child is enjoying his course matter, but only wondering if the course can make his lad land up in a blue chip firm. (Dowry rolls out big time in Andhra u know!!)

Though we may not idolize anyone in life, youth can take cues of ideals, which have been proven classical.

3 down , 1 more to go at TISS

It was the first time I felt like crying , and I came close to doing , my eyes became moist.. the taxi sped through the traffic near Sion junction towards the Dadar station. It was a hell of a time , the last 4-5 days saw all the action I could have seen: The summer internship placements of my junior batch was manned by close to 10 of my classmates and have been from the mayhem at the beginning to the endless chatter during the end of the process. But still I wondered why did I cry, for the first time not for myself.

80% of my phone book consists of my classmates names and others in TISS, days pass without coming out of the campus, the stroll in the old campus makes me already feel lost, nostalgic, the visit to the library makes me feel guilty, making me realize that there is so much to learn in the world, and I threw away all the time running around for something or the other. The specter of Canteen haunts with the thought of lemon chai tingling in my neck. The thought that I will one day have to leave the campus makes me feel bad.. no worse.

While all these thoughts kept rambling in my head, I couldn’t but contain it within myself. I smsed “Dude, its gonna be all over in the next 6 months, feeling like getting back to campus”.  Fuck.. all dude… came back the reply from Vachan, in his unique style. I know how much has TISS has become a part of us. The “tom and jerry effect” we d created between ourselves will be missed, so are the arguments with Ritesh and Shyamal about TISS and TISS.. infact 301 had become the defacto panchayat of the whole world, every exam was finshed with a drink, while I keep cribbing about the sticky floor made out of spilled rum form Cheeta’s  goblet.

“J the game has just begun” came back the reply from Ann, the saint of our class, God has given her  so much optimism and wisdom, and her words did lighten me up, drifting me to thing apart from college and the endless rigmarole we have been through in the name of Fieldwork , assignment blah blah…

 

As they say Its the beginning of the end, we only realize the end of beginning  and think that end is always far far away. So before the end ends ,let me make something worthwhile of what I have, time and friends – which am afraid will not be available in plenty once out of this campus.

Keeping off the grass - A review

There are many books which u can really relate very well with, and some keep u engaged thru out , when u start thinking like the protagonist and revel how if i could also be like.. here Samrat from the book "Keeping off the grass" by another breed of techno manager-author.

The story of made a difference from the plethora of IIM life books by giving a good prelude of samrat , with an American - ivy league background, who is a Yale valedictorian ( what is that supposed to mean btw) and a wall street whiz kid.
The character which strikes chord with me is that of a American born confused desi (ABCD) and the inability to see differences in daily life . The mundaneness as a result of working on the same excel sheet and making businesses richer had bored and put him in a newer pursuit. (now that he was already on course of making every parent proud, except for himself).

Then starts the pursuit of understanding the world outside America, in the form of a PGPM in IIM-B ( this is the second book after Harshdeep singh in recent times on the same inst). The details in book are not like a diary of events, and its more of his reflection as a Yale educated I banker student coming to class and his pals , Shine(y) and vinod. Then comes the rigmorale of classes which he starts to detest from the very beginning, which shiney hardly cares and leads the gang of three. Shiney with a super intelligent head and an IIT degree, has a cake walk over the courses and amazes everybody in the crowd.

This brings back to my own theory on the type of students in any course. The A types who never study after class, just pretend to listen during the lectures and score the exam with their out-of-the charts IQ and understanding, and B types who slog for every mark and make efforts continuously while scarpping thru the subjects.

Life in a B school is again vividly protrayed with indifferent characters for whom grades and placements are the be-all and end-all of the course, while others are relaxed and are just confident to sail thru , and one off characters talk abt emotions and being left out in the lurch not able to fare up with the grades. The script has a melodramatic touch with a death of a student ,not able to cope up the summer placement stress !! ( mind u, it takes a toll in my college too.. thank god they are shortening the whole pain this time !)

The whole book is titled around grass, yes our own ganja or marijuana, and the course of addiction as a route of unwinding stress in the premier management institute. Shine and samrat explore varied locations and get jugad for the peace of their mind, and Shiney closely resembles to Agastya Sen,in the English,August, whose author is lauded thru the preface.

very pertinent questions are raised about the burgoening engineer-turned-manager software developers whom u ll find more than rickshaw wallahs in b'lore and their aspirations. How conformists are we to be to follow the path of mediocrity and how poor are we of the thought of a space for ourselves. why do we go to B school in India , not to become business leaders ,but to land in a fat paying job. All the blabber in front of professor is a sham, and every one knows it.


The book also shows the roller coaster of a life a student would fantasised could have, be it a one day holiday on the deserts of thar or the ganja hunt in b'lore. while grades fall and rise and fall and the vacation banging a danish hippie after a discourse in himalayas. It has got all the spice and emotion of a 25 yr old confused guy.

There are pop philospohical overtones in the characters of super logical shiney and self critical samrat, and hence most of it gets cleared when Ruskin bond comes in the script, and suggests to keep off the grass, hence the title of the book and the last line of the work.

I was wondering why would people write books on IIMs and they get sold so well !!( i have read already 5 of them),and if people ever read such a book some 30-40 yrs later when we hope india would be advanced country, would give a glimpse of the middle class now, as we recollect the angry young man movies of the 60s. One final word is that people who were not attracted to any literature in lives are atleast are looking into these books.

A village “Amway”ed

Sitting on the window seat of the Kaniyakumari express after a rushed up presentation at college, and a hurried travel to dadar, my mind just went numb, perhaps for the first time. In a week or so I have sat unmoved for an hour (or so) at a place, the time till then had been sprinting thru exams, farewell parties and what not, shifting the luggage to the hostel... hooray, it was a different feeling when our (402, agnishamandal apartments) names was officially listed in the notice at the hostel office, one year of endless errands perhaps will come to a meaningful stay next year..

Hmm, back to the train journey, kurla came n went, and left me wondering about the length of the platform, the same place where, I used to wait for the harbour line to go back home from fieldwork (what the heck...mumbai central), and then vikhroli, looking at the tall towers and envying of the godrej’s employees ( good engagement na ! – having homes in the campus) and the travel when Furqan was at hospital, and then mulund – Ann.. st Ann flashed into my mind, and so did Sudheer – whom am yet to meet after a stay of year in Mumbai and discuss all about F1.. These thoughts flash as the train runs faster n faster. “I came to Mumbai alone, going back alone... as we do with the world (too much of cliché right!!) … and finally comes Kalyan ( oops Kalyan Jn), only to see hordes of people detrain the compartments ( for a moment it was like another local). Later I found out why people took these long distance ones to Kalyan – it acted like another superfast local!! Without any stops and at no-crowd! – Clever people eh…………….

The thoughts of travel reimbursement tempted me to get the ticket upgraded to AC and were happy to find the whole coupe empty! It was now the time to open “The Kite runner”- the book read by my roomies and one of international acclaim. The beginning was difficult and then was reassured by baba over fone that the going will be just great, ending at a crescendo of emotion and emptiness, lets see if it comes... but Pune came in a while , and also brought a family of 4 and a kid – Mokshu into my coupe . Nothing much was worth remarking out except for the fact that I wondered how much grandparents love their progeny’s progeny (if am supposed to use that word). Mokshu (seems to be around 3 yrs or so) was constantly cuddled, joked, at times bullied by his daadu – a good engagement at his twilight years.

Once after reaching home after a full days travel, I found home at war front- the preparations for a formal feast commemorating my dad’s successful haj ( generally its given before the travel to wish luck). The venue was gurramkonda, a small mandal with say 10K odd inhabitants and a history running back to the last of the sultans – Tippu Sultan.

On the lines of an old habit, I went to Tope’s (yes, means a “cannon ball”- Liaqat) shop, to check out his new stationery and pens (wow). He as usual looked interested about my future ( if it existed !) and was talking about doubling or rather trebling his business- I was wrong if I was looking it was his good old stationery store. No, he meant his real venture – the wonder of direct marketing – the American way – Amway.

Coincidence of being X

In continuation to the post below, i find this one linked in a very relevant way....

just going thru an article in Indian express ( the refuge for news in mumbai ), i learnt about the news of a sole mumbai lad in the winning squad of the under 19 team.X also had a 10 wicket haul in malaysia... lets learn something about him...

X hails from azamgarh and is brought to mumbai by a bowling coach, but against his dad's wishes to learn leg spin. It has been a testing time for him staying in a 350 sq feet house in Kurla for 4 yrs , with some respite by getting selected into Ranji sqaud. Like the flights taking off frequently from the nearby airport, his zeal to perform better made it to the Indian team,win the worldcup and also bring the world cup from bangalore to Mumbai to deposit in the BCCI headquarters.

In the meanwhile the office of BCCI was closed for some reasons, and the cup had to be in his room.. the lad says " i could nt sleep the whole night" wondering if something could happen to the cup, which was placed next to the sink, the only space left his room. he also jokes. " kya pata kal is cup ko station key platform mein bhee bhikne key liye dikhey to"

Now the cup is safe with the BCCI and accolades have come across the country, with the UP govt giving a 5 L grant, how does the money benefit him immediately.. for X its by buying a first class train pass, this is just amazing, while people at one end ready to do anything for money, the contentment in buying a first class pass shows the pragmatism of this boy.

Now his parents have come harbouring enough apprehensions about the treatment meted to a normal UPhari . fortunately the welcome was much pleasant and will be flying for the first time back home...

as the story comes to end, X is Iqbal... Iqbal Abdulla. Hope this name strikes some coincidence in your minds,,,,,, yes its the movie Iqbal and this one in reality.

Do the perpetrators of the voilence in the name of region have any answer to this ? how would they react, be happy about a lad being representing the region or unhappy that a native lad didnt make it to the team...BCCI office is nt too far from any corner of the city perhaps.

there are so many things to observe, that there are people who perspire and get rewarded and at times in public, the grit of the dude, the vision of his coach, and the normality of his character has to be just saluted, may we get a good leg spinner from him in the times to come...

Mera Desh - Tera Desh

For the past few days Mumbai has seen its veer mumbaikars showing their might against the north indian migrants. Though u could call a techie from varanasi working in SEEPZ also as a migrant, its only the autowallas, and those selling sandwiches late in the night who face the brunt. Thanks to the revival of linguistic chauvunism, and apathetic police, who fear of more violence hence keep quiet.

These give clear signals that all the efficient night patrols and beefed security around each station is nothing more than a farce, where a force cant act against divisiveness, afterall its mee mumbaikar slogan

when do u get such incidents, the political party is just trying to make its presence felt,though in its signature way, and Mumbai is perhaps is perceived as a extinct place of the great state - maharashtra.sitting on a bfast table i joked about the futility of such an exercise, when i was curtly stopped by a much elder student who gave the most misused word in management - strategy.while corporate strategy has been to churn numbers from nowhere, here the so-called strategy is about beating others and securing the votes of locals - concentration strategy as an option seems may not work out as the population ofthe megapolis goes on and may still vote based on their gut feeling.

while listening to a debate on the same topic on TV,a person asked to clarify who a local was,is it a person who speaks marathi or the one who lives in and around Mumbai, this is decisive question which has to be answered,and if its a person who can speak marathi alone , then what would you say about the scores of non-marathi enterprenuers who fly the name of mumbai in the financial world

if its going to be who has lived here for long ( how long !!) its impractible a solution as we cant sport a badge that shows our age in Mumbai ( am i dreaming the nazi days where jews sported the star of david)

People should be prudent enough to understand these short term gimmicks used by parties who over decades have thrived on divisive politics and nothing else.and all of us should understand that Mumbai is not just the jewel of mahrashtra but the whole of India, possibly Asia.

Love in the mind of a psychiatrist

The concept of love is perhaps the most often discussed topic in any artistic, and philosophical work right from the Greek civilization till today ( the likes of John Gray n all ), in addition to so many bollywood movies – where love n marriage will perhaps be the only theme for the next 100 yrs J.

Recently I was re-reading the book, Man’s search for the meaning by Viktor Frankl, while it is the best account of concentration camps, after reading the paragraph below, I was left speechless, and would place it on top of the almanac of love, in case one is prepared.

The author was marching inside a concentration camp, and so go the lines

“the man marching next to me whisphered suddenly “If our wives could see us now ! I do hope they are better off in their camps and don’t know what is happening to us”

That brought thought of my own wife to mind. And as we stumbled on for miles,slipping on icy spots, supporting each other time and again, dragging one another, we didn’t speak to each other, we knew – each of us were thinking about his wife. Ocassionally I looked at the sky, where the stars were fading and the pink light of the morning was beginning to spread behind a dark bank of clouds. But, on my mind clung the image of my wife,imagining with uncanny acuteness. I heard her answering me, saw her smile , her frank and encouraging look. Real or not her look was much more luminous than the sun which was going to rise.

A thought transfixed me : for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets,proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart : The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action ,when his only achievement may consist in enduring the suffering in the right way- an honorable way – in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of the beloved, achieve fulfillment.

This means to me how much the relationship strengthens as time passes by and the character of man to gel, become a part of other person – in all spheres. Does the modern day mechanized life give us the chance to think , reflect such thoughts, atleast on the weekends ? is a big doubt.