The Great Indian Induction ....

Like many HR jokes that circulate on the internet, so is the one that how the polite, soothing “Welcome to our Organisation” from your HR suddenly turns into “Don’t stand at my desk wasting my time”. So, after many pre-joining emails from the HR that made me happy (except for the one where they sent me the soft copy of my offer letter which made me frown due to the daily wages they were offering), I was quite charged up on the first day.

I walked in really happy but to my horror, the scene was shocking! It was neither because the chairs were ergonomically incorrect nor because the room was really gloomy and depressing as if designed to put us to sleep. But it was because the tables were empty – meaning no free notepads and pens! Now whether you agree to this publicly or not, we all love the word ‘free’ and even more when it gets associated with the workplace. I personally believe it is the least compensation they can offer for the otherwise meager daily wages. Quarter after quarter, after every investor meetings & result announcements, we show our solidarity and lineup in long spiral queues for the Lower Parel market manufactured synthetic T-shirt that seldom is of wearable size, but we still do.  

More so, I have hopped many organizations in search of better employee gifts and mark my words when I say that the induction pen is far better than the one that you usually get in the stationery after climbing up three floors and signing on numerous registers. So, obviously it wasn’t just me who was disappointed. When I scanned around during the session, I did see many of the dejected new joiners looking down and messaging on their BB. Perhaps they were spreading the word around. Later, they did try to make it up with free lunch, evening tea and some welcome bouquet. But were they thinking that such gestures would net-off the pen loss?

The induction was designed with many sessions. Like one really senior, really really senior guy walked in as a speaker and kicked off saying ‘I have been in this organization for 30 years .... ‘.  Before he said anything, my eyes widened with respect, no really, I did have respect in my mind though my neighbor’s mouth was wide open conveying disgust and shock. “They call such people as speakers for induction session?” he said to emphasize his disagreement to the selection process. I poked him and made him show respect, but just when I turned my attention back to the dais, the speaker continued “… you know why?”  I quickly sensed the seriousness of the situation and pulled my neighbor down hard just when he was about to stand up and ask the speaker “you tell me, WHY!!” in bold letters. My neighbor obviously wrote-off my cowardly behavior and walked out under the pretext of a phone call.  I didn’t pay much attention thereafter because I was busy calculating the number of companies I would have on my CV in thirty years going by the current rate. I smiled thinking what I would say if I were called to give such an induction sessions after thirty years.

Later on, he tried to make the session interactive by asking some questions but it did not help much. Like one time he asked an open forum question “what made you join this organization". There was a pin drop silence in the room when he continued “…except for money”.  People, I tell you these days !

Then one HR lady walked in, decked up and that’s when I sensed a sudden vigour around me. She began with a question whose answer I thought was very obvious “So what do you think guys! Can any organization function without HR?”. There was a unanimous “NO” from the male crowd around me. That day I learnt that guys can fake anything to please a beautiful lady.

But some sessions were really important like the Finance & Payroll session where everyone was busy noting down options to save tax while mentally planning the shop name they would use to fake the medical bills. Also, the one that publicized the environment friendliness of the organization which ended with us knowing the different types of birds and their nests that could be spotted in the campus.

Overall, the induction, I was told, would help us to understand the length, breadth and depth of the organization. I started revising. So if two lakh employees formed a hand-in-hand human chain, the length would be approximately 400 kms? Don’t ask me to prove it because they didn’t confirm when I asked. And when they meant depth, they sure meant how deep their pockets should be to hold the 8.2 billion dollar yearly revenue. Whoever carries so much cash around I wonder …....

Of People and Places! – Part 2

My previous attempt of assault received more flak than cheer and mostly it was from my close aides complaining of my non-adherence to what the Wren and Vodka had to say.  If you didn’t found it last time, chances are you wouldn’t found it even today!

So this Wren and Whiskey, oh wait, I think I got their names wrong, it was Wren and Martini ,or some allied drink name, have taken their revenge and added me to their latest list of victims. You ask me revenge for what? So the story goes that these two, who were children of British officers residing in India, were deeply in love with each other. Since India did not have any law supporting such marriages, the society cruelly separated these two lovers. Then they decided to take revenge on every offspring produced by any Indian marriage by making this book a part of curriculum and today, almost 85 years after, I too have been victimized. (Yeah I know that was made up. And I also know that was not funny.)

So, coming back to the point, I was given this book 'Elements of Style' to improvise and when I skimmed through the book, I read something in the preface that made this self-help grammar-cum-write-sensible-stuff book completely useless to me. It read 'Omit needless words'. I mean what will remain on this blog if I were to follow that... I have just filled in three whole paragraphs without making a single valuable point.

But nevertheless, trust me on one thing; I will never fail on the assault -

Scene 2-

Most of my city explorations were always through public transport, mainly local trains and in some instances, city buses. But then one thing led to another - I started working, the companies pretended to pay me and I upgraded to rickshaw. That’s where the woes started.

Mumbai –

I am late as usual so I am speeding on a rainy day, holding my cell phone in one hand, umbrella in another, coordinating with her on phone and scanning for a rickshaw. I cross the road to get to the stand and hurriedly get in the nearest one I see.

Driver – “Madam, I can’t come with you. There are others in the line ahead of me”

I am amazed! I get down and start speeding again to the front of the line jumping over potholes.

When I reach, - “Since this is a crowded route, let’s take the parallel road to avoid traffic. I am in hurry and I need to go to …….…”

He cuts me sharply - “Madam, if you don’t want to come, it’s perfectly fine. Don’t use swear words!”

I am shocked. What did I say I wonder? Then it dawns upon me. Grave Mistake!!!

Mid-scene Learning – Finally after 27 years, I have proved my mother wrong. She always tells me – You need to know the local language in any city.

Me- (I translate it into best possible Mumbaiya Hindi that I know of) “Oh no. I was just saying that lets take the alternate road”. He is not fully convinced so I shut up and say “Bhaiyya, Talaopali jaana hai”

Phew! He nods. I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the time. He drives through potholed roads with utmost precision taking shortcuts I am unaware of. When I reach, he takes out the tariff card “11 ruppess 75 paise”. I pay and escape from there as soon as possible.

Learning (For all my folks from other cities who have never seen an auto meter working) - A whole lot of distance can actually be covered in 11 rupees J

Learning (For me) – I am still grinning over my mid-scene learning…

Pune –

It’s a hot Pune summer and I am relieved by the fact that the rickshaw stand is at a stone’s throw away from my house. Yet I wrap a scarf all around my face almost suffocating me to death just to look one amongst the other terrorist lookalikes hovering in the city.  After my Mumbai learning, I walk straight to the first rickshaw in line but am surprised to see a long line of deserted rickshaws so I walk all the way back to see a highly interactive card game in progress. I interrupt –

(The conversation will obviously be in Marathi)

Me – “I need to go to Sadashiv Peth”

One of the drivers disgusted due to my interruption – “SO?”

I go blank at that expression. When I recover my consciousness - “So will you come?”

Driver – “No it’s too far”

I realize the futility of any further arguments but since I see no other autos passing by, I call up a friend to pick me from a nearby area. He agrees.

Me- “Ok. Just drop me till Deccan Gymkhana”

Driver – “No, it’s very near”

This time around, I lose my patience so I scream – “So how many kilometers is an appropriate distance to travel at a time”

Driver – “Ok. Let’s make it clear. I am a specialized driver.”

Me – I try to be sarcastic. “Specialized in not going anywhere it seems”

Driver – “You can be only so ignorant if you are from Mumbai. I am specialized in Teen Patti. The only other rickshaw stand that promotes this game is that Dange Chowk one. All other stands play kiddish games, below my level. Therefore I can commute only to that place.”

(I don’t remember much after that because I fainted. Apparently my roommate saw me fainting from the balcony and took me home. She tells me that she had to apologize in writing on my behalf to the drivers for my inconsiderate behavior)

Learning - Rickshaw stand is a place where an auto rickshaw (only) stands (for the rest of the day).

Moral of the story – Do I need to say it!! Though I haven’t been able to defend Mumbai too well, yet …Mumbai Meri Jaan !! :-)

Of People and places! – Part 1

It’s good to live in multiple cities. And I say this not so much because of getting the pleasure from trivial things in life like adopting diverse lifestyles, assimilating different cultures, trying different cuisines, learning different languages. No. There’s much more to it. I feel, moving to a new city instantly bestows you the right of authoritatively cursing and cribbing on a range of topics.

Now, for example, there is this super cool guy next door who usually comes home late with a roar of an even super cool bike and one sneak peek from the window makes you go weak on knees. After several weeks of attention seeking attempts through expensive parlour appointments and uncomfortable walks in skimpy skirts, you have not even managed to get a glance from him but rather the other day he almost crushed, with his cowboy-like shoes, your little stuffed toy which you had dropped to initiate the ‘baharon phool barsao’ scene or anything even remotely close to it.

Immediately, the local people can be termed as self centered, unwelcoming, closed-minded, myopic people. Then you can go on to narrate stories of how the neighbor in your ‘previous’ city had shared his pasta dinner with you when you were hungry and your gas cylinder went empty, cleverly hiding the fact of how, at that time though, you had labeled him as a ‘despo’ trying his luck on you young beautiful ladies.

I have, due to sheer chance of fate, been literally living out of bags (and some smelly cupboards) and have hopped cities back and forth for past six years. Therefore I do this, all the while, with untainted sincerity so much so that I sincerely feel I definitely deserve a small role in those tourism promotional ads.

Scene 1

I have lost my house key and am desperately searching for that ‘key’ guy. I finally find a small roadside shop but it’s deserted. So this is how events would roll in respective cities –

Mumbai -

I pace around for a few minutes. Scan surrounding areas but see no one who can fit the ‘key-guy’ profile. Seeing this, a Gujju (offcourse!) shopkeeper (of an adjacent grocery shop) comes out, asks me with concern as to what the problem is.

(All this conversation will be in Hindi in fear that people will think I am a regionalist if I engage in Marathi)

Me - “Do you know where he is“?

Shopkeeper – “Must have gone somewhere nearby. He will come soon. You can sit inside till that time”

Me – “Thank you”!

(Another 10 minutes pass. I am still standing outside)

Shopkeeper – Comes out, pulls out his cell, makes few calls, traces that ‘key-man’, informs him of a potential customer, takes my address, informs him, tells me to go home, I thank him, ‘key-man’ reaches my house in next 5 minutes, key made, door opened, and work done!

Learning – Sometimes simply standing over the problems could also solve them !!!

Pune –

After my Mumbai incident, I proactively approach a lady sitting idly in the adjacent-almost-zero-inventory shop.

Lady shopkeeper - Screams at the top of her voice in the purest form of Marathi I have ever heard (rather, not heard) so much that I strongly believe that conversation could easily be part of Delhi Belly’s Marathi version if ever it were to be dubbed.

Lady (I have filtered it out to preserve my dignity) – “Are you a fool. If I owned that shop, would I be sitting over here? And do you think I am some GPS device to track his current location. Also do you think I am idle to answer such idiotic questions”?

I wanted to point put that there were indeed no customers in her shop but I couldn’t muster enough courage to say so because soon she continued, “If you are in such a hurry why don’t you pick that stone and go break that lock. You ...” and then the dubbed version of Delhi Belly followed.

Learning – You cannot have a worthwhile shopping experience in a zero inventory shop.

Moral of the story – Mumbai Meri Jaan !!  (More assault coming soon ……… )

Yes, we know, that you condemn!

Dear Politicians,


A young man stood tall at a crowded bustop
He had cracked it and earned it, his dream job
He felt so proud, this day was great
Just waiting to go home and celebrate


From there at not a faraway place
Walked a pretty girl, full of grace
Swinging happily her wedding shopping
All she wanted now was a diamond ring


A wealthy man sat in a Porsche so fine
Happy about a deal that he had just signed
To leave his mark, to make his name
This he knew was his stairway to fame


Moments later, this street is now a deathbed
The rain water here has turned blood red
I stand here horrified as they die in vain
The big and the small, the once strong men


You will come here soon with your empathy mask
Do you even feel a pinch is what I ask?
And once all your showbiz is over and done
You will wipe their blood with your dirty linen


And say, yes we condemn!


And certainly sometime, not long from now
They will strike back again, someday, somehow
Tear us and kill us and bring us down
From plush gateways to shady downtowns


We aren’t resilient, just lost all hope
Hanging in despair to a broken rope
Not sure if we would live to see tomorrow
Relish our dreams or be buried in sorrow


We will face this all, one more time
Tears would flow for this hideous crime
But all you would say is that you really condemn
And move on as if nothing has changed


But yes, we now know, that you really, really condemn!


Sincerely,
A Survivor

ONE

Fair or dark, eyes blue or brown,

We can look so pretty all the while,

Laugh about and remove your frown,

It’s a question of just ONE smile.

Just ONE spark can do all the work,

Light up and set ablaze the campfire,

Millions of light to drive away the dark,

Just ONE sun can make a day brighter.

The remembrance in the ONE minute silence,

ONE tight hug in despair,

The comfort of ONE quilt to the homeless,

ONE day of fame and fanfare.

The shimmering light of ONE North Star,

On a dark night for a lost boat,

The last ONE man standing in the war,

The election won by just ONE vote.

Long lost friends whom we miss so much,

Seem so far when they are so near,

There are many ways to get back in touch,

It’s a distance of just ONE desire…

Happy Birthday to me !!

I got up today before the sun rose high

I felt that I was on the wrong side of twenty five

My mom hugged me as I rubbed my eyes

She said "I wish you a life kingsize

And I hope that you always keep your dazzling smile

and you spread it across as you walk your miles"

My dad patted me, and wished "Happy Birthday

I wish you all the happiness today and everyday

And ever in this journey should you stumble and fall

I know u will come out unscathed and always stand tall"

My grandmom said that "I hope for you now

that you are always surrounded by people you love

and may you build ties that last for life

tons of hellos without any goodbyes"

My grandpa smiled when i took his blessings -

"I am the oldest and today I tell you this

That though I wish for you all the wisdom

May you in life stay forever young"

My Brother jumped and pulled my cheeks

He got me a cake and wonderful sweets

He said that I was the sweetest sister

and our fun and pranks would last forever

My freinds wished me one by one,

on phone, by message and some in person

I felt so special you made my day

I so wanted it the same way

And as shall pass days months and years,

May be some setbacks, some times of cheer,

I hope all your blessing do come true,

I want this all but not without you !!

Apni toh Pathshaala .. masti ki Pathshaala...

Yes so ‘Pathshaala’ has failed miserably at the box office. It has a descent sound track with Lucky Ali making a powerful comeback with ‘Bekarar’ fitted at the most inappropriate place -when the audience is just waiting to run out of the movie halls. It was almost like that Indian Idol series 1 audition, where participants ran over each other as the gates opened to test their vocal chords, only this time they ran out screaming after watching hours of mindless clatter. For the geeks, like ‘Java’ which spawns many threads for parallel and faster processing; the movie burst out with compounded stories. But looks like the non-techie zero-storyline director forgot to put a thread.stop() leaving many of those threads dangling forever.

But yes, the movie does transcend you on and off to those wonder years, the time of heavier bags but lighter minds, lots of friends and no egos, where teachers probably taught from heart more than book, where going home without a peeled knee or a scratched elbow was a waste of day and many such caressing moments.

The bivouac of school life may have ended but memories linger on forever. OK so the rhyme scheme may have gone for a toss but what the hell.. Cheers to those fun filled days!!

The morning sun rays which used to wake me up,

For the bag to be packed right and to neatly dress up,

To toss and sway the water bottle on the way,

As the school gates opened to a brighter day.

Where we sang the morning prayers in perfect sync

The tune of which still echoes sometime,

The colors we splashed and the stains of the ink

That life was so much in a perfect rhyme.

The spat of the wooden ruler that instilled a fear

There stood our teachers firm but kind,

On a cold day today, I still feel their warmth and care

As I move forward with their faith behind.

The wooden bench on which we carved our names,

Recess fights, dance and song, the mud and the sand,

Peel an elbow, the passion for the games,

Marching in the sun to the school band.

The stories in class we carefully listened

Leapt over fences in the morning sun,

Mischief and fun, got caught and punished

Standing outside the class was a different fun.

With back to the wind we started to grow,

But before we knew, it was time to go,

A fresh course to discover and new paths to be found,

We made place for the new and took memories abound.

But sometimes I wish I could simply rewind

Wake up someday to that old regime…