I Vote For .......

The election road-show is back in town, and the signs are all over the place. Flags with every possible red-and-black combination dotting the cityscape, editions of the Tamil political weekly Thuglak disappearing off the news-stands by the evening of publication, fantastic political allegations being levelled and even more fantastic poll-alliances being forged, party cadres getting down and dirty in some good ol' fist fights,.....oh yes, interesting times are upon us again!

I, with my impeccable sense of civic duty, decide to get myself an electoral photo-identity card today, without which you are not allowed to exercise your voting franchise, however relevant or irrelevant that particular exercise may be. So the whole family bundles into the car and we set out on our simple task. After all, it's just a matter of walking in, getting your photo snapped and an ID card given, we tell ourselves...shouldn't take more than an hour...

10.30 AM

The venue happens to be a typical corporation school, one of those dilapidated buildings which nobody ever notices (least of all the students) until a huge crowd gathers around it one fine day and you know that elections are around the corner. We realise we have left one task unaccounted for before we can hope to have our photos taken. We are told we need to get our individual eligibility forms which were supplied by the Election Commission,and produce them to the photographer before we could get our mugs snapped.
And where can we get this form, we ask a helpful bystander. He points us to a couple of benches,where a mob of people seem to be lynching someone. This 'someone' turns out to be a hefty sheaf of papers which the junta are ravaging in search of their respective forms.
Papers are flying in the air....papers are being torn in overenthusiastic pursuit....papers are being used to make toy-boats by bored kids. My Dad and I exchange nervous glances before manfully plunging in.

11.15 AM

...Finally! We hit gold! After a lot of toil and struggle, and with a lot more of luck, we manage to find all our forms, and in reasonable condition too. Bruised and dishevelled, we exit the madding crowd and enter the other popular manifestation of the common man - the queue. Long and serpentine, it would have put that sinister anaconda of that eponymously titled B-grade movie to shame. But with true sons-of-the-soil spirit, we decide to stick it out and join the tail of the snake. My Dad is in a bad mood, and he says how he's sure that the mess with the forms must have been a deliberate ploy to keep the number of actual voters to a minimum, and increase the stake of the voters 'in black'. Iam not even shocked that I dont feel shocked at this conspiracy theory.

12.30 PM

After what seems like an endless ordeal under the blazing Chennai sun, we finally get to see the inside of the photography room. Hmm....I can actually see the camera now...just one goddamned digital camera for the seething mass of humanity waiting outside! No wonder the queue was moving at a snail's pace. My turn arrives, I strike a pose which the photographer doesn't seem to be the least interested in, click, and the deed is done. Another hour's wait awaits us, we are told, before the ID cards with our images scanned on it will be ready.

3.30 PM

An hour, which consists of 180 minutes, later, a volunteer walks up to us hapless souls with a stack of ID cards, and begins calling out our names, with people acknowledging and receiving their cards when their turn came. This brings back a flood of memories to me of high-school attendance roll-calls...hands shooting up with a make-sure-its-heard shout of "yes, ma'am!"...People are pressing me on all sides, desperate not to miss out on their names, and I feel suffocated....and just before I am sure of passing out, I hear my name being called out from somewhere, feebly, like from outer space. My hand shoots up, knocking a few people's heads back in the process, I let out a strangled make-sure-its-heard shout of "Am here!"...and finally, Iam the proud owner of my own electoral photo identity card.


Aah, the joys of participating in the greatest democratic exercise of them all! I can hardly wait for voting day now...

But I forgive the administrators for this one miserable experience, I forgive the Government, I forgive the system, I forgive them all...I feel,..I feel like God.

No, I haven't bought an Avenger,...but the suspenseful events of this post have culminated in a happy ending for me today.

Iam going to be packing my bags for Jamshedpur soon!!...Yep, all is forgiven.

Piyo Thanda, Jiyo Cricket!

You know a good book by the effect it has on you. You go around preoccupied, for the next few days at least, with the plot going round and round in your head, replaying the key points mentally, just soaking in the pleasurable experience,...or if it's a book like No Logo, you keep looking for a conspiracy theory around you.

I found this to be a fascinating book on anti-corporatism centred around the culture, lifestyle and corporate agenda of North America. And though I got the feeling I was reading the book 6 years too late, or atleast that an updated version was required at this point of time, there was plenty of food for thought in the book. It's easy to see why it's been labelled as the Bible of the anti-corporate activist, and though Iam still not sure where I stand on the whole issue, I definitely am looking at the BIG brands in a new light the last few days.

Anyways, a cursory glance around me tells me that the 'hijacking of common culture and freedom of expression by the big corporates' is still an alien phenomenon when it comes to India. We're still too busy earning money and being a 'developing' country to have the Brands coming after us. But there's one place in India where money flows in the public domain - cricket, and I get the jitters that we might just be losing it here.

Munaf Patel comes up with an impressive Test debut at Mohali, and the very next day, we have NDTV coming up with a 'Munaf Mania' special, getting up-close and personal with the family members of 'India's tearaway fast bowler'. Pleazzzze...give the kid and his family a break! A very good match for him, no doubt, but an average speed of 135-137 kmph doesnt make him a tearaway bowler, in my opinion. But then, that's been Munaf's USP to break into the national team, and it does sound good on TV. Would the same hype have been built if he had been a trundling medium pacer at 120 kmph who picked up the same 7 wickets on debut? I think not!

Last week's surreal ODI between Australia and South Africa has been labelled by the expert and by the man-on-the-street as the 'best match of all time', and Iam astonished! Do we even remember that the game includes a beleagured tribe called bowlers too? Seeing the ball disappearing into the stands every second delivery isn't cricketing nirvana to me, and Iam sure it isn't to many.
Then why such a lop-sided view? Switching on the TV gives me a possible answer. So many news channels introduced the bulletin on this match as 'the best cricket match ever'. ESPN-STAR has this ad running nowadays of the South African team celebrating their victory with the catchline, "The greatest cricket match ever... Remember, you watched it here first."
Oh yeah, how could we forget? But could WE have the right to tag the match with a title, please? Do you have to stuff your opinion down our throats? ....And that's what scares me.

My Dad and I had one of our interminable debates on the Saurav Ganguly affair, which quickly digressed into the BCCI-Dalmiya-Bindra imbroglio, and I was suddenly brought up short. I hadnt even realised that we had slipped from sports to politics in our argument. Where does one end and the other begin, in today's context? With an operating revenue of 230 crores, the BCCI has never been richer. So is it just a coincidence that the office-bearers today seem to have so many issues apart from administration to tackle?

And who can forget the endless conflicts over personal and team sponsorship which threatened and continue to threaten the Indian team participation in various international tournaments. A classic case of the peripherals taking precedence over the core, marketing taking precedence over the game.
And what about cricketing careers being discussed thread-bare and post-mortems conducted in end-of-match discussion shows by so-called experts?
What about aspiring national players being snapped up by sports management agencies based purely on the 'potential' they see in him?
And Iam pretty sure MS Dhoni giving up his brown-streaked hair for an easier-on-the-eyes black curls look, had less to do with his personal choice and more to do with the people 'managing' him. It's a question of brand image after all.

The fact is, the richer the game gets, the more removed the pristine image of cricket being 'a gentleman's game' becomes. Business and the game become irrevocably entwined. There isn't the slightest space left for the game to stand by itself. Layers are built one over the other, till it becomes difficult to seperate talent from hype, sporting moments from business opportunities, fact from fiction. Indian cricket is slowly getting to that state, which is a pity.
I might have to turn that darned TV set off soon.

The Dangling Conversation

In the dangling conversation

And the superficial sighs,

The borders of our lives.

If life was an interview, Paul Simon couldn't have been more accurate.

I've had my fair share of interviews now, either for a job or for higher studies. When I walk into the room, my general objective is to transform the ensuing dialogue from 'interview mode' to 'conversation mode'. If I can make that happen, I know I've made an impression. This isn't an easy job, mind you, and it's tough to pull it off consistently. After all, it depends a lot on how receptive the panelists are to the entire idea. All it takes is one grumpy interviewer determined to ruin your happiness to make it feel like a third degree interrogation. But in the absence of such characters and especially if the panelists are a pleasant and interested lot, it's upto you to set the mood of the interview, make it feel like an animated conversation.

That's why Iam disappointed with my XLRI experience the other day. Yes, I answered about everything. Yes, I got them to see how two years at their institute were in alignment with my 'long term plans', but the flow was missing, I wasn't completely 'there', the panelists' foreheads were creased most of the time, the conversation was 'dangling'.

The following passage in the interview exemplified this.

Panelist1 : So what do you know about the relationship between China and Taiwan?

Me : Sir, China and Taiwan share an enstranged relationship....Their problem dates back some time to when Chiang Kei Sheik broke away from Mao's Communists....He fled the mainland and landed in Taiwan...umm...this was with the Nationalist Party...the natives of the island, umm...the people who originally lived there, didnt like their growing influence and....rose in resention against this regime. Since then, it has always been in a state of confusion.....umm...To this day, China refuses to see Taiwan as a seperate political..umm..entity.

P1 (amused) : You began by describing the relationship as ...something (looks at P2)

P2 (helpfully) : Enstranged...

P1 : Yes, isn't something wrong there?...

Me : (Gad!) It should have been estranged, sir.

P1 (nodding) : Yes, yes...and you said the natives rose in......?

Me : (Sheesh!) : Resentment, sir.

P1 (smiling) : That's right, but what did you say then?

Me (cornered) : Resention, sir.

A satisfied P1 looks at his colleagues and they share a contented smile after a job well done.
I can only smile back.

Maybe it's because I have a lot riding on this interview. Maybe it's because the topics of discussion never entered my comfort zone. Maybe it's because I was forced to come up with globe so many times. Whatever, I didn't feel too comfortable during the interview, especially in the beginning. The words came out faster than my thoughts did and I wasnt as coherent as I know I can be.

Anyways, the bottomline being,

Do I think I could have done better?
Most definitely!

Do I think I've done well enough to get an admit?
The jury's still out on that one.

For anyone who's interested, you can find the verbatim account here.

Like a poem poorly written

We are verses out of rhythm,

Couplets out of rhyme,

In syncopated time

Lost in the dangling conversation

And the superficial sighs,

Are the borders of our lives.

A 100 Years of Trust

I sometimes wonder at the Tatas.

Yeah, those pioneers of the modern Indian industry, a fine line of illustrious folks who contributed and still contribute to India's growth like no other, one of the few family names which might ring a bell in just about any corner of India.
My knowledge of the Tatas is restricted to just a few books I've read and a couple of documentaries I've seen. But the general impression I take away each time is that of shrewd business folk having a human face, pragmatic people but with a vision for the future, filthy rich but philanthropic, and their integrity always remains a recurrent theme. I got my hands on this book recently and it only serves to extol these virtues further. Now I do understand these accounts are meant to celebrate their achievements, and Iam pretty confident that the big guns of the Tata clan, be it Jamshetji, Naval or JRD, had their human failings, but their remarkable story does make for some fascinating reading.

I sometimes wonder how it would have been to be born into the Tata family anytime in the last 100 years....

I might have been dropped off at school in a Rolls-Royce and felt embarassed about it.

I might have been regularly exposed to Western, Mid-Eastern and Far-Eastern cultures at a time when it was considered an accomplishment if you moved across states.

I might have been among the first in the world to take to the skies.

I might have had that much more understanding and respect for education.

I might have had a much better grasp on the idea of India than I actually do now. I could have been actively involved in the early days of the INC, in the bloody partition, in the framing of the Bombay Plan, in the crisis that was the Emergency....


I sometimes get gooseflesh just going through these records. The contributions of the Tatas are immense, and virtually cut across all spheres of human activity. It's like they lived their lives to the brim, and overflowing...and I feel small, very small in comparison.
But heck, Iam in a Tata organisation myself...and in the blue-eyed, fastest growing sector at that! Isn't this a great opportunity for me? Can't I try and emulate these illustrious folks? At least, I do have a precedent. Can't I go ahead and make a difference to the country? Sure, why not! Maybe it's time I stepped out and did something really worthwhile with my life! Maybe it's...


"Jonas, documentation done yet? "...

I look at my half-complete work for the day. Pages and pages of code review. And pages and pages to follow. Iam weary just by the thought of it.

"Yeah, should be done in a couple of hours..."


The Tatas can rest in peace.