The Cobblerist Movement

This post is inspired by an old joke and in reply to a chat I had today (yeah, completely unrelated to cricket)...

The world, after decades of strife, was at ease – but an uneasy calm, an eerie silence pervaded all around. American defence budgets had soared to more than 6% of their GDP for the first time. While the majority of budgets for the past 5 years were dedicated to research, for the first time in the decade, manpower costs were hiked – that sure didn’t bode well for the year – was there a war lurking in the background?

The 1984th resolution of the UN Security Council declared that nuclear enrichment by any nation was to be done only under the watch of IAEA. The IAEA, headed by an ex-DefSec, was a 10-member democratic body consisting of 6 US ex-senators, two British ex-PMs, Hamid Karzai and an ageing Jalal Talabani. Pakistan, which had been a largely peaceful nation since the time they contacted Narendra Modi to rebuild their state ridden with turmoil, stated on record that they had no use for nuclear energy and had hence, stopped their civilian nuclear programme. They also refused to buy American technology for the same. Insider sources reported that the budget deficit of the US was to be funded by Pak purchase of advanced enrichment technology for carbon¹⁵.

US, under the aegis of IAEA, declared that Pakistan was hiding their nuclear enrichment programme and had potentially been using the same for non-peaceful purposes. They alleged that the enriched C¹⁵ was sufficient to manufacture nukes against India. While India remained non-committal, they refused to endorse the US view of the same. However, US was adamant and declared that they would rid the world of all Nukes starting with Pakistan. The democratic IAEA voted unanimously in favour of US aggression.


Brash nation that they are, US declared a unilateral war on Pakistan. The brashness didn’t end there. In a highly publicised press conference, they openly declared that they would obliterate the terrorist network operating in Pakistan and all terrorists, including the cobbler who sat on the parliament house steps would be killed. Suddenly there was outrage in the world. Human Right activists called US a fascist nation for attacking the cobbler. Cobblers from around the world condemned the declaration. Suddenly there were government schemes announced to protect the cobbler. Three nations offered him asylum. The cobbler, ignorant of all that was happening around him, was polishing shoes as usual when the first missile hit the parliament. Afraid, he took up on the offer by the visiting head of state. The ambassador proclaimed victory on humanitarian grounds. The cobbler was airlifted out of Islamabad and taken to an undisclosed location.

Missile after missile kept hitting the Pakistani nation. The cobbler meanwhile was safe in a safehouse 30m underground in an Arab nation. Pakistan was reduced to ashes. 300,000 were presumed dead. Damage estimate touched 10 digits. Meanwhile, human right activists kept shouting slogans against US decision to kill the cobbler. Rights Groups sat on ‘Dharnas’ demanding survival rights of the cobbler. The media covered the complete event in great detail. The cobbler’s parents and family joined in on an indefinite hunger strike. Finally, after 62 days of war, the US accepted it was a folly to think of killing the cobbler. The activists proclaimed victory. The state of Pakistan will forever be known as the state that was sacrificed to save the cobbler.

And India Win the World Cup...

Uttarakhand Tourism Welcomes you to Dhanaulti...

My travel has led me to many popular tourist locations – this time it was a quaint little place – not the typical tourist destination – further up from Mussourie – to a forestland in Dhanaulti. It was a very short trip, nevertheless a most cherished one.

We started on the 25th of March – the time of the year when the weather in Mussourie is comfortable – slightly chilly evenings and sunny days with clear skies. We started around 4:30. The drive from Mussourie does become slightly colder as you start climbing altitudes. After about an hour of drive through the narrow winding roads, we reached Buranskhanda. Few adventure operators organise short treks and mountain biking expeditions from this place. It is windy and gives you the first view of the snow-capped hills of the majestic Himalayas (Winter sees this place being covered in snow). After a short tea break, we proceeded towards Dhanaulti. You know you are approaching Dhanaulti when the vegetation starts growing thicker. You can spot deodar and pine trees along the roads. The red rhododendron flowers are an absolute treat.

There are many small hotels in Dhanaulti. We had a look at one and then decided that it would indeed be a shame to stay in a concrete room even after coming all the way from Mussourie to go closer to nature. Our driver took us to the “Eco Hut” maintained by the Dhanolti Eco Tourism and Eco Development Committee. The Garhwali guy at the entrance initially refused to give a room citing no vacancy. After applying a few selling (in this case, buying) skills that I’ve been trained on for the last 10 months, we landed the four of us a room. And we were glad to have got this room. Set right amidst the deodar trees, this place is indeed a nature lover’s (or for that matter, any lovers’) paradise. Made of bamboo, this place is as close to nature as you can get. The water is solar heated and the “street lighting” is solar powered. It was 6:00 in the evening and we decided to have a look at the Eco Park – the only tourist destination. The place is a good spot to start birding though we didn’t have the time to go birding.

When the attendant at the gate insisted that the park was closed and that he couldn’t keep it open any longer, we finally came out and spotted the favourite snack of the hills – Maggi – being made right outside. The guy, Kishore Rana, a Garhwali who ran this shop as a side business in the tourist season, was a potato and peas farmer. After gorging on two plates of Maggi each, we decided to retire for the night. After having a simple dinner of parathas and a lot of gossip, none of us knew when we slept off.

The morning was bright and sunny. The early morning sunlight on teh snow-capped hills in the distance was an absolute beauty. We decided the forest merited a walk. After around an hour of strolling through the rhododendron and the extremely tall deodar trees, we came back to Mr. Rana (oh yes, yet again) for a cup of masala ginger tea. The hot water in the cottage was indeed a pleasant surprise and after quick bath, we proceeded to Tehri. More on Tehri later...
PP

Trial By Media

It was a chilly morning of February 22nd in the year 2006. However, the chill that went through the ToI reader’s body had almost nothing to do with the cold. It was the headline – the hard hitting – “No One Killed Jessica”. When no one killed Jessica, why was she not alive - because police coudn't catch 'No One' and the prosecution couldn't prosecute 'No One'. Time for some media action… And 5 years later – as we now relive the story of the power of the media through the much acclaimed, “No One Killed Jessica” (henceforth, NOKJ), I was left thinking – who will monitor the monitors of democracy?

No, I’m not against the verdict sentencing Manu Sharma to rigorous life imprisonment – perhaps the media did get it right this time and the heinous crime deserved punishment. But, what if the media did not? As Warren Buffett put it very succinctly, “The rear-view mirror is always clearer than the windshield.” Looking back, I might say the media did a right thing by adopting an activist’s role and “bringing the guilty to justice”. But can the same be said about every future campaign that a media house takes up? I’d hate to even think of the ‘proof’s that India TV can get if they set out to brand me as the incarnation of Satan… Given their propensity to videograph ‘news’, they just might succeed!!!

Jokes apart, the movie poses some serious concerns. It is good to have the Indian democracy, long plagued by corruption, monitored by the Fourth Estate. But then, where do we draw the line. What if the media itself is corrupt? It is a no-brainer that the television is not philanthropy – it is serious business – business aimed at making profits. And nothing corrupts like money. Can the evidence presented by media be considered accurate? What if the context has been deleted/edited? As Will Smith said so in the “Enemy of The State”, “We've also come to realise that we need to monitor the people who are monitoring them...” But how?

NOKJ did one thing smart – they got the ball rolling. Ram Jethmalani might not be right in his judgement (or in many cases he has taken in recent past), but he is not too wrong when he says that this case was a trial by the media – the same media that created the ‘Prince’ out of just another child from hundreds who keep falling in manholes (many not so lucky) everyday, the same media that hailed the billionth child, Astha, while well ignoring so many others born at the same time across so many other hospitals in India. No malice against the media – I’m just concerned about the “selective news” that media chooses to telecast over prime-time.

At the end, well NOKJ did a great job in its portrayal of the positive (hopefully) role played by media in the entire Jessica Lal Murder Case – but just like TZP or 3-Idiots, it can tend to mislead the gullible Indian population into believing everything that media does is picture perfect. Judiciary might be slow – even cumbersome – even corrupt – but does have some good brains (if not the best) to help it chart its own course.

Just remember, for every Jessica Lal Murder Case that media helps to solve, there is a Barkha Dutt (and others) reporting live.

PP

@Barkha – Just in case you are reading this, I’ve full respect for you but just feel there might have been a few lapses in Mumbai – but as you said so, “Praise and criticism are twins that travel together”.

Cricket Crazy...

I have realized over years that I write only when I’m deeply moved. Today’s match more than just did that.

It initially built up an interest in me – its been a long time cricket managed to do that. Then it got me hooked – I skipped my evening snack because The Master was in sublime form and its just pure bliss to watch him smack those effortless boundaries off very good balls. Then I was left dismayed with the Indian batting’s yet another collapse – and terminated with a short run followed by a Run-Out. At that time I thought, “OK, would have contributed another 10-20 runs, so what…!!” It was a short 20-min break due to slow over-rate by the Englishmen. Another opportunity for a snack wasted.

Then the English started the onslaught on the hapless Indian bowling attack. Strauss matched The Lord shot to shot. Two great innings in a single day – now that is stuff that makes Indians crazy about this game. Then came the new Steve Bucknow for Indian cricket – the UDRS. Stupid Stupid Stooopid 2.5m rule. (Ok then, I’m an Indian first…!!!) Clear LBW given not-out because the impact was 2.5m away – what on earth does that show! The ball was not gonna suddenly rise in the air like the Golden Snitch… Well Ian Bell made the most use of that lifeline almost taking the game away from the Indians – the key word being “Almost”. Cramps did him in and he fell - Zaheer doing the trick.

I realized my dinner was not coming tonight but there was no way I was gonna get up at this juncture – surely not when India had just fond a lost gateway to salvation in the form of Bell’s wicket!!!

The next ball undid Strauss – this time UDRS was helpful (I told you – Indian First). If you were a heart patient, the roller coaster that followed was surely not meant for you. India suddenly had a sting in their stride and there was an impending twist in the “tail”. Piyush Chawla got into the act (though as the mystery unfolded, we realize his portrayal as the Indian Hero was not who we thought he was). Just then, out of nowhere came a (Black) Swann and smacked two sixes that brought the kingsmen back in the game. Chawala gave away two sixes in the penultimate over. And then, Shazad hit a first ball SIX…!!! And in the end – a TIE…!!!

That is indeed cricket at its best… Its 11 pm now and my stomach is gurgling – all that I might have had surely got digested by this time. I’ll cook some Maggi – that good old 2-minute snack that is the life savior for so many bachelors like me… Just yesterday, someone had remarked that this world cup was “Thanda”. Now its surely heated up…!!

P.S: Since 1999, every world cup there has been a tie... Started with that famous SA v/s Aus in 1999. Then the less-famous SL v/s SA in 2003. Last time too there was one with Ireland v/s Zim... The trend continues...

Long Distance never works...

Finally, I broke up. It was a long-distance relationship that I had thought would last though it was destined to always be long-distance. It went well when we were together. There were fights and misunderstandings but nothing everlasting.

The clock ticked and I had to move on. Differences appeared. These differences were not yet crevices threatening to open up. As always, in a long distance relation, there appears a third person (let’s call X12). Now this third person may not be as dear to my first love (let’s call X11), but yes, he was right there and I was away. The worst part, the third person was also my own!

Now X11 thought I was getting too close to X12, that I was feeding him info about X11’s plans. X12 was new and gullible and well frankly – too gullible – such was the nature of our relation. Well, quite obviously, I sided with X11 and played on the gullibility of X12 – I knew it would all reveal itself. For a good ten days, X12 was left wondering if he had been mistaken and signed up for a “joy-ride” to hell - and partly because I sided with X11. X11 thought X12 knew of the plans through me and declared me a rogue lover. :(

Well, all did reveal itself. X11’s joy of the reveal was dampened because of my proximity with X12. X12, well he was furious too – for I sided with X11 despite having been in a much longer relation with X12.

And now, X11 has broken up with me (or in other words, "ppl were ready to kill you"), X12, well our relation was really short-lived after the reveal.

And here I’m, having learnt a very important lesson, LONG DISTANCE NEVER WORKS.

The Despicable Boss

Disclaimer: This post has no connection with any person. Any similarity is PURELY coincidental.

It was 8 am in the morning. He pressed 2 on the quick dial and that Bob Dylan sang through the empty room…

“Good… Good Morning Mike” came a voice as Bob became silent.

“Good Morning Arthur, How are you?” , he said in his nicest tone, not that he had to pretend too much in doing so.

“Very well sir, How are you doing this fine Monday morning?” , Arthur replied trying and pretty much succeeding in hiding the shock of getting a call at 8:00 on a Monday morning. Call at 8… This had to be bad… Arthur could have done well to begin this week without this early morning call – especially after the disaster o a week the last one was.

“Very well Arthur. Good job last week.”

“Uh Sir?” Did he get it right? Why, rather, what was his boss praising? Did Arthur get a hint of sarcasm? He decided he shouldn’t drop his guard just as yet.

“Good job managing the crisis last week, Arthur. It did become quite a scare, dint it?”

“Oh yes sir. I’ve seen tough times before but never as much as the last week. Well, thank you sir. I try to do my best.” Phew… That was close. Arthur felt the blood rushing back to his numb hand holding the phone.

“Well Arthur, why do you think it happened?”

“Well Mike, the HR policies for the last few months have been changing so much. A buildup was taking place for two months now, since the incident with Hailey.”

“Arthur, but did we talk about the same the last time? You had assured me you would take care of it.” Mike’s voice slightly hoarse and rising.

“Sir, I tried to but did not get any support from the logistics. I had informed the same to you. Even you had talked to Hamish.”

“But did I not tell you to go ahead? Hamish and I had worked out the details. In fact, I worked the whole of the weekend to settle that. Even after that, you have not been able to find a way out.” The exceptional stress and loudness of NOT was unmistakable. Arthur wondered why he ever let his guard down. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? He just hoped, this was the end of it.

“I know sir. I tried sir…”

“Tried is not enough. Or else you haven’t tried hard enough.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause.

“Mike…”

“Every time this happens, I have to step in and play the last minute fiddle. Why can’t you get these things done without me? This is the fourth time this is happening. We were lucky this time. Next time you might not be.” His voice was slow and forceful. Arthur knew Mike meant business.

“OMG, I might not be lucky? Why did Mike say ‘you might not be lucky’? Am I going to be fired?” Arthur wondered.

“But Mike Sir, you know I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. The management pressure is far too much. And…”

“And you need to find a way out.”

“Ok Sir.” Arthur resigned.

“Listen Arthur, you have grown from where they are today. I remember you always used find a way out. I’ve immense respect for the way you work. But then, I also have high expectations from you. I try to help you rise to those, but you can’t expect me to solve them every time you are in trouble. Please try a little harder.”

“Yes sir.”

Mike kept the phone down and had a glass of water. He was sweating. That went well, did it… Arthur was a good subordinate – one of the best he had – high performing and creative. What did he do to deserve such a rude early morning call…!!!

Well, in his defence, Mike was just trying to be a good boss but all he could be was… a BOSS...!!!

Well, now he knew why the adjective “despicable” got associated with the noun “Boss”.

Learning to play for Pizzas (John Grisham)

Just read a John Grisham novel – “Playing for Pizzas”. It’s about an NFL quarterback who has to move to Italy because of a few fumbles in a NFL match. It’s about how he hates anything to do with Italy but grows to love the game so much that he decides to stay on in Parma for the second season, barely playing for pizzas and not the hefty contracts he was used to.

If nothing else I realized how easy it is to do what one completely believes in and loves doing. Is the contrary also true? It becomes extremely tough to do something if you do not believe in it. And ‘sales’ is one such career. You never believe in the targets that are given to you. You always see those as a little too high – but then the field is as ruthless as it can get. You either achieve it or you don’t. You either hit it or you never will.

And as a manager, initially you are more of carry-and-distribute-agent. You receive a target – you carry it in your mind – you distribute it. While doing so, you might make it sound that the target was the simplest possible and can be achieved with just a little extra effort – while in your own mind, you harbour doubts the size of Titanic – you make it sound like it is the unsinkable but know there are irrefutable chances this Titanic is gonna sink.

Initially you hate it. But… Slowly over time, you have seen many-a-Titanic go down the ocean and you now become impervious to another mishap and just look forward to creating the bigger and the more unsinkable ship. And as these too keep sinking, you learn the right way – of playing for pizzas – forgetting your baggage of playing in the NFL (say those ‘elite’ B-Schools) – and playing for the fun of it – the fun of making the ship safer. And that my friends, is when sales start to happen.

As for me, till now, I’ve just built my first Titanic and it sure is gonna pain if it sinks. Pray it doesn’t :D

I AM an Isolophobic

I confess. I AM an Isolophobic.
They say, ‘solitude is bliss’. They sure dunno the meaning of either solitude or bliss. Or is there something amiss?

Over the past one month, I’ve come to face my worst fear – of being alone. For a social butterfly like me who HAS to talk with people to stay sane, this life of living alone in a 1000sqft space demarcated by walls to create rooms, can be quite an experience – and not in a good way. They say the only way to get rid of your fears is by facing them head-on. Well, for an isolophobic, this is pretty much the nadir of life and if this can’t get rid of the phobia, nothing can. This is as head-on with isolophobia as I can get.

They tell me I’m in the most wonderful of lands – oh sure I am. Whichever way I look, there are beautiful mountains partially covered by rain-bearing clouds. There are these famous “view-points” where lush green valley extends upto infinity – only cris-crossed by those mountainous rivers flowing aimlessly. Many times, I’d love to be that river – it has those trees that whistle every time it passes through them. I whistle only to myself – that too only when sure no one is looking for it be seen as indecent. It has that boulder which continuously talks to it in that gush language. The only talk I hear is that constant rumble I have in my head. It has those small pebbles that accompany it till it meets other rivers. Those small pebbles are my excel sheets – which constantly hound me till I meet others and even later.

They tell me I get the best food around. The only thing would taste good right now – is a piece of my mind. Well-cooked and deep-fried – treated with lots of boredom – garnished with a sprinkle of irritation, it must taste awesome. It is a stage where I dread the sight of restaurants – eating that big plate of that awesome ‘choumin’ alone or ordering those 4 pieces of paneer day-in-day-out because you know anything else you order will be too much for one person. Those roadside chats have their charm only when you are able to describe how wonderful they taste – when your taste-buds start talking to your teeth, it’s time to stop. Those famous ‘rasgullas’ and ‘ras-malai’ seem to melt no more in your mouth – or they do – a little too quick – they are there for a second and the next, gone – and then all you can think is, “Did I really have that or was it an illusion – must have been one – Phew…”

They tell me they would die to be in my place – oh you need not die – I want you to live – through what I live.

Bitten by the movie bug

I always thought very few people believed in movies. And even less would do something being inspired by the movie they saw over the weekend. But the events of the last few days have made me believe otherwise.

I was influenced by movies but to a very small extent… I saw “Requiem..” and decided I was never even going anywhere near narcotics. I saw “God Tussi…” and decided I’d never question the will of “God” if ever there was any. “Pursuit…” changed the way I talked to salesmen. (Little did I know that I’d be entering the same field four yrs thence) Never have I shooed a personal selling agent away after watching that movie – no matter how distracting or persistent!!! There were a few other movies that changed the way I look at things and people. But hardly was there ever a movie that made me change the way I do things. The last movie I watched did just that…

I’m talking about the 2000 not-so-hit movie, “Pay It Forward”. With a host of Hollywood celebs in movies that I absolutely love, it was the unknown boy Haley Osment who affected me the most, proving content always matter more than cosmetic makeovers and star-power. The last few days, I’ve been looking for ways to help people – though not in the life-changing way Trevor wants us to, but yes in small ways that I can.

Just yesterday, I was on a business trip to Haridwar. On my way back I couldn’t get a taxi and decided to take a bus. Since the route was pretty much a plain route with good roads, bus seemed a comfortable option. The bus grew very crowded very soon. Just as the bus was about to start, I saw a family with two young kids (must be 2-3 yrs old) get on. The lady got a seat but the man was left standing. He held his daughter in one hand and clung to the support with the other. The roads were good but the ride, no less bumpy, thanks to the ‘brilliant’ drivers. I noticed his discomfort but in that crowded bus, thought I couldn’t do much. The small girl, with her head on his shoulder was sleepy but her head kept bumping around. Around 15 mins into the journey, I noticed the man grimace with discomfort. Holding to the overhead bar support while holding to his daughter in a bumpy bus is no easy task. I thought of getting up but there were a good 10-12 people between me and the man. I called out to him once but the call was drowned in the chatter around and the groan of the engine. I tried the eye-language once or twice but unsuccessfully. Finally I called the guy standing next to me to call the guy in front. Ignoring a few angry stares from the “middlemen”, I completed the chain and used the eye language to indicate that my seat was on offer. He understood and came over. The child slept peacefully as I stood next to the guy for the rest of the journey. The guy thanked me and asked me how he could repay that small favour. I smiled and told him to “Pay It Forward”. The guy laughed at first but soon understood I was serious.

By the time I reached home, I was broken - make no mistake – the bus ride was bumpy and standing was no easy task. But weighed my discomfort against the man and more importantly the child’s discomfort and decided I was in a better situation to handle it than either of them. I was tired but happy. A small gesture, but meaningful... This was far bigger joy for me than the entire Joy of Giving Week with all its media fanfare and glitzy flagging offs and ceremonies.

Oh yeah, if you read the above content, please promise to “Pay It Forward”…