Growing up on Amitabh Bachchan movies has influenced a lot in my life, much of the way I am and much of the way I deal with situations has been derived from Amitabh's characters in some of his movies. He has always been the celebrated hero, of course but it is not the loud one-man-beating up-ten-villains heroism that one gets on to emulate, it is the other kind of heroism that impacted me...the untold stories of the silences, the steady, resolute look on the face, the determination that does not want itself to be sung about, the single-minded, super-achieving and yet humble outlook to any situation.
There was the other side to his heroism too, the one we all loved to admire but perhaps never thought of emulating because it simply seemed so out of reach...the one Sachin Tendulkar embodies, arguably flawless, unarguably bordering on the greatest ever. There are very few however, who dream to be Sachin Tendulkar for it appears to be only that, a dream. It is therefore, as in my case, the achievable side of the hero that we all strive towards achieving...the Rahul Dravid side of it. Achievement par excellence, no doubt...something that any and all would be proud of and yet all of it done in such unassuming a manner.
This does not mean that Sachin or those other characters essayed by Bachchan are arrogant or don't relate to the ground realities. It is just that their brand of success is too flamboyant, too Sehwag-ish to draw a pattern around. Dravid, on the other side, seems a lot like most of us. The hard worker who is super talented for sure but can perhaps not move mountains on the basis of talent alone...the one who has taken risks in his life but not out-and-out risks, only those risks that make sense and have a back-up plan along with them...the one who could not dare to give up a good education riding on nothing else but faith in his own talent...the one who built things up brick by brick with each brick joined to the other via sweat and blood, so to speak.
Dravid is the second highest run scorer in the world in Test cricket, someone who has hit more centuries than the legendary Sunil Gavaskar, someone who was requested back in the one-day team that was floundering without an anchor post his unceremonious exit from it, someone who went on to not just survive for five seasons (when other more celebrated contemporaries called it quits mid-way) but also captained two different sides in the most commercial and ruthless exhibition of cricket, and in a format that fits the least with his style of play. Dravid is all this and yet he is still the boy next door (despite, as per his own admission, being the oldest playing cricketer around in India, older even to Sachin by a few months). He is still the common man who has fought all odds to become special.
It almost gives one the goose bumps to realize the significance of what Dravid and people like him achieve in their lives and how they manage to contribute to the society in the process. Not just their achievements, but even the painstaking manner in which they have worked on to achieve the same become folklore, examples that parents give to their kids when they want them to follow the path to idealism. Dravid and his type would rate amongst the guys mothers (and fathers) would want their daughters to marry, CEOs would want to hire for the most complicated and critical jobs they have, army generals would want to trust with the post situated in the most difficult of terrains and marking the most amount of risk if it were to be compromised.
He is all that one would want to be...a clear thinker, erudite, well-read and logical, a class act at what he does, and someone who has a sense of humor good enough to crack jokes not just about others but at his own expense as well. An idol in the true sense of the word, Rahul "The Wall" Dravid shall remain an inspiration for me as much as Sachin "The Master" Tendulkar or Virender "The Nawaab" Sehwag would remain distant dreams I would want to keep striving for.
By the way, if you disagree with what I have said and insist on a different perspective, I respect that. I would only request you to read Dravid's address at the Bradman Oration in Canberra, the first time in the last 10 years that it has been happening that a non-Australian has been invited for it. The speech in video should be available on YouTube and it can be read in text at the ESPN Website
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Nip in the air
For the first time this year as I stepped out from my bath, I felt a slight chill run up my body. Of course, this slight chill shall soon be bandied by the Mumbaikars and all local media as the arrival of winters to Mumbai or if some journalist is feeling lucky, even a cold wave. For me, at best it is disappointing and at worst, a reminder of what it could have been. Having spent almost all my life (except the four years in South India and 3 years here in Mumbai) in the north of Vindhyas, winter has had a special significance for me.
The arrival of winters, whether I was in Delhi for my schooling or job, or if I was in Patna/Buxar growing up, was marked by many distinct happenings. One of them, of course, was the grand revival of the quilts and the woolens. Dumped aside in some big box for the rest of the year, the woolens used to make their presence felt as Diwali came to pass. Starting with the half sleeved pullovers and the thin blankets and ending up at full bodied jackets and heavy duty quilts, the smell of mothballs combined with the heat trapped inside them after a day of being shown the sunlight form some of my happier childhood memories.
As I grew up, winters also became the opportunity to show off. Unlike girls who can actually heat things up in summers with their multi colored apparel extending up to multiple standards of length and size, guys hardly have options on what to wear. It is only in winters that the blazers and the jackets, the tweeds and the denim come out in full force. I started realizing this once I moved to Delhi from a sheltered Patna and became a part of the pack. The jacket that Mananmama bought me from the local Tibetan market in Patna was a prized possession then and continues to be with me, 15 years down the line. And then came the suits as well...starting with a dumb beige suit to the now-often-unused smart black suit, this sartorial journey has been a pleasant recollection for me as well.
Probably the most favorite recollection I have of winters has been the one associated with the Christmas cheer, the one I witnessed in Paris. Having heard about the terrific atmosphere pre-Christmas in the western world, I was not to be disappointed as my exchange program during MBA chanced to happen in a way as to be spread over the months of September to December. The best time to visit Europe, the winters were in full flow by the time we were starting to prepare for our journey back to India. From ice skating to my first ever experience with natural snowfall, I could see all of it and I loved every moment...cherishing every experience.
The Christmas spirit, the warmth of new year that I had seen so much in movies, read so much about in books, heard so much of...was all there. Shops were decorated as if all light and flower arrangements in the world would run out tomorrow and today was the only day left to use them. Cafes were doing brisk business, people were walking about with smiles on their faces, and even the normally stiff metro co-passengers appeared to have that sense of joviality reflected on their faces.
It was quite a contrast from the winters I had seen in Delhi, for example where it becomes a challenge and an ordeal at times instead of people actually enjoying the party. The living standards starkly different, it is understandable I guess, if those who can't afford one square meal a day hate the season that exposes them at their most vulnerable, chilling the very bones of their existence...at times to the very end. But then the other strata in Delhi enjoys the season as well as any of their counterparts elsewhere in the world. You can always find droves of people (including me and my friends) around stalls of anything hot and edible...chaat, rolls, momos... Even a simple cup of coffee with friends and family turns into a celebration of the season that winter is.
Now in Mumbai, where the different seasons simply don't seem to exist, life (just like the weather) seems to chug along in the boring monochrome. The ceiling fan operates in full gusto in my bedroom whereas cold is busy gripping the sunlight out of other cities I know of...the contrast is stark. Is there an option but to bow down to the will and designs of that eternal being who controls all this...makes all these stark differences possible, rules our lives and of all that around us with such absolute control?
The arrival of winters, whether I was in Delhi for my schooling or job, or if I was in Patna/Buxar growing up, was marked by many distinct happenings. One of them, of course, was the grand revival of the quilts and the woolens. Dumped aside in some big box for the rest of the year, the woolens used to make their presence felt as Diwali came to pass. Starting with the half sleeved pullovers and the thin blankets and ending up at full bodied jackets and heavy duty quilts, the smell of mothballs combined with the heat trapped inside them after a day of being shown the sunlight form some of my happier childhood memories.
As I grew up, winters also became the opportunity to show off. Unlike girls who can actually heat things up in summers with their multi colored apparel extending up to multiple standards of length and size, guys hardly have options on what to wear. It is only in winters that the blazers and the jackets, the tweeds and the denim come out in full force. I started realizing this once I moved to Delhi from a sheltered Patna and became a part of the pack. The jacket that Mananmama bought me from the local Tibetan market in Patna was a prized possession then and continues to be with me, 15 years down the line. And then came the suits as well...starting with a dumb beige suit to the now-often-unused smart black suit, this sartorial journey has been a pleasant recollection for me as well.
Probably the most favorite recollection I have of winters has been the one associated with the Christmas cheer, the one I witnessed in Paris. Having heard about the terrific atmosphere pre-Christmas in the western world, I was not to be disappointed as my exchange program during MBA chanced to happen in a way as to be spread over the months of September to December. The best time to visit Europe, the winters were in full flow by the time we were starting to prepare for our journey back to India. From ice skating to my first ever experience with natural snowfall, I could see all of it and I loved every moment...cherishing every experience.
The Christmas spirit, the warmth of new year that I had seen so much in movies, read so much about in books, heard so much of...was all there. Shops were decorated as if all light and flower arrangements in the world would run out tomorrow and today was the only day left to use them. Cafes were doing brisk business, people were walking about with smiles on their faces, and even the normally stiff metro co-passengers appeared to have that sense of joviality reflected on their faces.
It was quite a contrast from the winters I had seen in Delhi, for example where it becomes a challenge and an ordeal at times instead of people actually enjoying the party. The living standards starkly different, it is understandable I guess, if those who can't afford one square meal a day hate the season that exposes them at their most vulnerable, chilling the very bones of their existence...at times to the very end. But then the other strata in Delhi enjoys the season as well as any of their counterparts elsewhere in the world. You can always find droves of people (including me and my friends) around stalls of anything hot and edible...chaat, rolls, momos... Even a simple cup of coffee with friends and family turns into a celebration of the season that winter is.
Now in Mumbai, where the different seasons simply don't seem to exist, life (just like the weather) seems to chug along in the boring monochrome. The ceiling fan operates in full gusto in my bedroom whereas cold is busy gripping the sunlight out of other cities I know of...the contrast is stark. Is there an option but to bow down to the will and designs of that eternal being who controls all this...makes all these stark differences possible, rules our lives and of all that around us with such absolute control?
Monday, December 12, 2011
Starting afresh
And I have moved...finally. I had been having problems with blogdrive for a long time now. While it was one of the better designed and more promising blogging sites at the time blogging in India was just about starting to gain popularity (I am talking about a good 7-8 years aago), blogdrive lost its way subsequently. With the larger players consolidating in the form of wordpress and blogger, the others were either forced to shut shop or, as in blogdrive's case, have a pathetic excuse for a blogging site. The servers kept going down and the blog page refused to open once too often. Finally I got the better of inertia (more pronounced because there was no single click and transfer option available and I had to painstakingly copy-paste each individual entry and more importantly, each individual comment from one place to the other) and decided to move on.
The moving exercise, as in any movement, took a lot of time and a lot of cajoling the dear old me to stay true to the conviction of the continued utility of this blog. There were so many moments in the middle when I almost junked it, what with knowing that I have not been regular with writing and not being too sure if I would be, even in the future. Sanity prevailed on all such occasions and I kept toiling at it...and interestingly, the more I worked at it, the more passionate (and not tired) I became about carrying the thing through to completion. While doing the copy-paste stuff, I was more than once or twice, caught in the tales of those days, the posts and the comments that told a story of their own. It was such a different world...the blog had, for the first time in my life, made me socially active...so much so that almost an entire batch of about 120 people (not to mention the seniors and then the juniors) actually regularly read my blog and many commented on it too with, what I can now pronounce, an alarming frequency.
The comments on each of the blog entries that invited them reminded me of so many people...so many that were close to me but now appear to be lost somewhere in the distance (Mayank, Prashant Kumar, Ravi...) so many that were just there for the fun but are now out of the radar (Yash, Vikhyat...), and very very few that were there and are still very much around. Of course, life and work and the associated stuff have taken their toll and distances were but, to be expected. But then, wasn't blogging supposed to be a solution to this? Wasn't a blog supposed to have been my way of telling the world what I am up to and wasn't it supposed to have been the world's way of telling me that it cared about what was happening in my life?
So why did it not happen the way it was supposed to? Yes, I stopped writing and consequently, people stopped coming back for updates and then, even when I wrote, there was no one to read it since they were already tired coming in and going back empty handed...they had already given up on me.
So, with the new blog (and the upcoming new year), I hope to revive this space and make Mode C at least an image of what it once was for me...a big part of my social life, a place where I could be myself and be liked for it, a place where I had my friends and foes, my fans and critics...may raison d'etre.
I begin here with a call out to all of you. If you do chance upon this place, do come back for more and do engage with me...I shall try my best not to disappoint you this time around.
The moving exercise, as in any movement, took a lot of time and a lot of cajoling the dear old me to stay true to the conviction of the continued utility of this blog. There were so many moments in the middle when I almost junked it, what with knowing that I have not been regular with writing and not being too sure if I would be, even in the future. Sanity prevailed on all such occasions and I kept toiling at it...and interestingly, the more I worked at it, the more passionate (and not tired) I became about carrying the thing through to completion. While doing the copy-paste stuff, I was more than once or twice, caught in the tales of those days, the posts and the comments that told a story of their own. It was such a different world...the blog had, for the first time in my life, made me socially active...so much so that almost an entire batch of about 120 people (not to mention the seniors and then the juniors) actually regularly read my blog and many commented on it too with, what I can now pronounce, an alarming frequency.
The comments on each of the blog entries that invited them reminded me of so many people...so many that were close to me but now appear to be lost somewhere in the distance (Mayank, Prashant Kumar, Ravi...) so many that were just there for the fun but are now out of the radar (Yash, Vikhyat...), and very very few that were there and are still very much around. Of course, life and work and the associated stuff have taken their toll and distances were but, to be expected. But then, wasn't blogging supposed to be a solution to this? Wasn't a blog supposed to have been my way of telling the world what I am up to and wasn't it supposed to have been the world's way of telling me that it cared about what was happening in my life?
So why did it not happen the way it was supposed to? Yes, I stopped writing and consequently, people stopped coming back for updates and then, even when I wrote, there was no one to read it since they were already tired coming in and going back empty handed...they had already given up on me.
So, with the new blog (and the upcoming new year), I hope to revive this space and make Mode C at least an image of what it once was for me...a big part of my social life, a place where I could be myself and be liked for it, a place where I had my friends and foes, my fans and critics...may raison d'etre.
I begin here with a call out to all of you. If you do chance upon this place, do come back for more and do engage with me...I shall try my best not to disappoint you this time around.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Retail Therapy
Almost two and a half years ago, when I was persuaded by my sister to buy a flat for myself in Mumbai instead of paying increasingly exorbitant rents to increasingly greedy landlords (despite the recession), I never realized truly what I am getting into. Whether it was the EMI and the stretch that I would have to do to meet it, or it was the positives in terms of an integrated complex with a mall, a club house, a hotel, a school, a hospital, etc...I had not really visualized any of it.
Things kept changing and May 2009 till now, there have been many new experiences that I have had with my first home. Increased traffic, food chains refusing to deliver, having my own club house with a swimming pool, squash/tennis/badminton courts, gymnasium, etc, no cafes near my home where I could spend a lazy sunday morning (always a dream), the neighborhood's low brand appeal, the rapidly increasing rentals and property prices, the nearest multiplex although only four kilometres away taking anywhere between twenty minutes to an hour to reach, society formation and new rules that it brought along, comfort of being just three and a half kilometres from office...so many things for it and as many against it.
And then something came up. Phoenix Mills (of the High Street Phoenix fame) took up old and defunct Mukund mills right next to my place (five minutes walking distance) and decided to convert into Phoenix Market City, India's largest mall and amusement complex. From the time they announced the project through the entire construction to the opening a week back, the expectations that I have had of the mall kept on increasing.
Yesterday, I had a chance to visit the newly opened mall and boy, was I pleasantly surprised! I did expect a good collection of brands, given the size of the mall but was definitely prepared for what I saw. Anything that one could ever need in terms of shopping/entertainment was already there or in the process of being there. In addition, there were a lot of stores which were not even branded and work was in progress. Nothing seemed to be missing and there was much more packed into it than what any other place I have seen has to offer.
This was just the inside of the mall, someone said, and there is an entire courtyard that is still to be laid down. I ventured out into the courtyard and realized that it was almost twice the size of the mall (which took me one and a half hours of walking across 4 levels to just cover). What shape the place would take 3-6 months down the line had my antennae of anticipations all propped up.
With the size of the mall being so large, it becomes very important for it to be properly laid out in terms of the ease of finding a particular brand/store in the entire "market city". Once again I was not disappointed when I saw that each floor of the mall was arranged in the form of 2-3 hub-and-spoke models with each spoke representing a lane of shops. Each such lane was invariably based on a theme (all footwear brands in one lane, all apparel brands in another, etc).
While walking through all these hubs and spokes, I made a note of the stores that were either already functional or whose branding was visible (and which were at most a month away from opening). There were a lot of brands that I was aware of, some that were more boutique in nature and the mix was just right, it appeared to me. The names below are just those that could recall having seen earlier (both large and small). Many others are relative unknowns or still on their way and I am really looking forward to discover more in addition to the ones listed below:
Cafes (always wanted one of these close to my house, am now spoilt for choice)
Cafe Coffee Day, Costa Coffee, Cafe pico, Di bella coffee, Kalmane coffee, Cafe bean garu, Cafe Royal
Entertainment
PVR (the largest in India for sure, some 14 screen megaplex is what I have heard), TimeZone, FunZone, Amoeba
Restaurants/Eating Out
Mcdonalds, Cream Centre, Subway, KFC, Pizza Hut, Rainforest, Rajdhani, Mainland China, Joss, Egg Sunday, Kailash Parbat, Maroosh, Mad over Donuts, Hokey Pokey, Gelato, Bowl House, Smokin Joes, Cookie Man, Golden Tips Tea
Wellness/Health/Cosmetics
Sukho Thai, Aroma Thai, Essence of China, VLCC, Health & Glow, The Body Shop, Lush, Nyassa, Color Bar
Fashion/Apparel
Zara, Debenhams, Diesel, Veromoda, UCB, French Connection, Promod, Espirit, Alcott, Calvin Klein, Guess, FCUK, Lee, Levis, Wrangler, Luxury Boulevard, Sisley, Celio, Van Heusen, Allen Solly, Arrow, Louis Phillippe, Blackberrys, Park Avenue, Belmonte, Raymond, Lords, La Senza, Madame, Rockport, Color Plus, Headquarter, Indian terrain, AND, 109F, Biba, Bebe, Wills Lifestyle, Ayesha, Globaldesi, Only, JacknJones
Kids Fashion
Mothercare, Mom & Me, Liliput, UCB Kids, Just for Kids,
Footwear & Bags
Charles n Keith, Bagzone, Hidesign, Nine West, Aldo, Aldo Accessories, Esbeda, VIP, Samsonite, Reliance Footprint, Timberland, Converse, Nike, Reebok, Adidas, Crocs, Planet Sports, Cheemo, Catwalk, Gossip Shoes, Bottomline Footwear, Metro, Clarks, Hush Puppies, Puma, Mochi, Bata
Departmental Stores
Lifestyle, Max, Pantaloons, Reliance Trends, Reliance Hyper
Jewellery and Watches
Swatch, Titan, Fastrack, Swarovski, Cygnus, Gilli, Carbon
Others
Canon, Archies, Hallmark
Things kept changing and May 2009 till now, there have been many new experiences that I have had with my first home. Increased traffic, food chains refusing to deliver, having my own club house with a swimming pool, squash/tennis/badminton courts, gymnasium, etc, no cafes near my home where I could spend a lazy sunday morning (always a dream), the neighborhood's low brand appeal, the rapidly increasing rentals and property prices, the nearest multiplex although only four kilometres away taking anywhere between twenty minutes to an hour to reach, society formation and new rules that it brought along, comfort of being just three and a half kilometres from office...so many things for it and as many against it.
And then something came up. Phoenix Mills (of the High Street Phoenix fame) took up old and defunct Mukund mills right next to my place (five minutes walking distance) and decided to convert into Phoenix Market City, India's largest mall and amusement complex. From the time they announced the project through the entire construction to the opening a week back, the expectations that I have had of the mall kept on increasing.
Yesterday, I had a chance to visit the newly opened mall and boy, was I pleasantly surprised! I did expect a good collection of brands, given the size of the mall but was definitely prepared for what I saw. Anything that one could ever need in terms of shopping/entertainment was already there or in the process of being there. In addition, there were a lot of stores which were not even branded and work was in progress. Nothing seemed to be missing and there was much more packed into it than what any other place I have seen has to offer.
This was just the inside of the mall, someone said, and there is an entire courtyard that is still to be laid down. I ventured out into the courtyard and realized that it was almost twice the size of the mall (which took me one and a half hours of walking across 4 levels to just cover). What shape the place would take 3-6 months down the line had my antennae of anticipations all propped up.
With the size of the mall being so large, it becomes very important for it to be properly laid out in terms of the ease of finding a particular brand/store in the entire "market city". Once again I was not disappointed when I saw that each floor of the mall was arranged in the form of 2-3 hub-and-spoke models with each spoke representing a lane of shops. Each such lane was invariably based on a theme (all footwear brands in one lane, all apparel brands in another, etc).
While walking through all these hubs and spokes, I made a note of the stores that were either already functional or whose branding was visible (and which were at most a month away from opening). There were a lot of brands that I was aware of, some that were more boutique in nature and the mix was just right, it appeared to me. The names below are just those that could recall having seen earlier (both large and small). Many others are relative unknowns or still on their way and I am really looking forward to discover more in addition to the ones listed below:
Cafes (always wanted one of these close to my house, am now spoilt for choice)
Cafe Coffee Day, Costa Coffee, Cafe pico, Di bella coffee, Kalmane coffee, Cafe bean garu, Cafe Royal
Entertainment
PVR (the largest in India for sure, some 14 screen megaplex is what I have heard), TimeZone, FunZone, Amoeba
Restaurants/Eating Out
Mcdonalds, Cream Centre, Subway, KFC, Pizza Hut, Rainforest, Rajdhani, Mainland China, Joss, Egg Sunday, Kailash Parbat, Maroosh, Mad over Donuts, Hokey Pokey, Gelato, Bowl House, Smokin Joes, Cookie Man, Golden Tips Tea
Wellness/Health/Cosmetics
Sukho Thai, Aroma Thai, Essence of China, VLCC, Health & Glow, The Body Shop, Lush, Nyassa, Color Bar
Fashion/Apparel
Zara, Debenhams, Diesel, Veromoda, UCB, French Connection, Promod, Espirit, Alcott, Calvin Klein, Guess, FCUK, Lee, Levis, Wrangler, Luxury Boulevard, Sisley, Celio, Van Heusen, Allen Solly, Arrow, Louis Phillippe, Blackberrys, Park Avenue, Belmonte, Raymond, Lords, La Senza, Madame, Rockport, Color Plus, Headquarter, Indian terrain, AND, 109F, Biba, Bebe, Wills Lifestyle, Ayesha, Globaldesi, Only, JacknJones
Kids Fashion
Mothercare, Mom & Me, Liliput, UCB Kids, Just for Kids,
Footwear & Bags
Charles n Keith, Bagzone, Hidesign, Nine West, Aldo, Aldo Accessories, Esbeda, VIP, Samsonite, Reliance Footprint, Timberland, Converse, Nike, Reebok, Adidas, Crocs, Planet Sports, Cheemo, Catwalk, Gossip Shoes, Bottomline Footwear, Metro, Clarks, Hush Puppies, Puma, Mochi, Bata
Departmental Stores
Lifestyle, Max, Pantaloons, Reliance Trends, Reliance Hyper
Jewellery and Watches
Swatch, Titan, Fastrack, Swarovski, Cygnus, Gilli, Carbon
Others
Canon, Archies, Hallmark
Thursday, November 03, 2011
In the middle
The middle of anything is not normally nice. Whether it refers to the mid-life or mid-week, being in the middle of work or getting into the mid-management, being in the middle has its follies for sure. The past few months have specifically brought this to the fore in my case. I am 31 now, a good enough age for all uncles and aunties getting worried about my marriage and yet the same people expecting me to stay away from the serious discussions...the really serious ones, whatever that means!
I love to be with the "youngsters" and yet I am expected to behave in a particular manner that befits the fact that I have been working as a profesional for almost a decade now while the real "youngsters" still have to get out of their alma mater. I want to have my say and give my suggestions on discussions that go on in the household but am not considered mature enough to understand the implications of everything and the one all-defeating explanation of experience giving wisdom is invariably unassailable.
I have had reasonable success at work, getting ahead of the curve thanks to some fortuitous circumstances and some kind seniors. I have been pretty fortunate in getting the kind of responsibilities that I have, learning the kind of things that I can, achieving the successes that I do. But what is up next? Does life stop here or is there more to achieve? Of course there is, much more but as some will say, all in its due course. But how do I explain that to my ambitious self that does not want to wait for this time to come, whenever it deems fit to?
I want to reach the next level right now. Age and associated assumed lack of experience, peer band parity, HR policies, nepotism, and sheer lack of meritocracy can go back to the stone age and red-tape-infested cobweb that they belong to. Is it too much to ask (and that too in a world that is so competitive) to be given recognition that matches the responsibilities assigned to a person.
What answers do I have to give to my often-cynical mind that keeps asking me as to the stage when the functional role gets translated into a job role? Even companies that are considered evolved in their thought processes have a delay of about 6 month to a year before they shift someone to a higher job role after that person having moved to a higher functional role. Is it too unfair to ask that if you do not consider a person worthy of getting a higher designation, more recognition, better prospects, then why would you assign more and critical work to him and why would you have expectations of him that you would normally not have from a peer of his?
But then there is the other perspective to think of, too...as is always the case. Am I really thinking about what I do as some sort of God's gift to mankind? Is there really something in me that deserves that extra recognition? What is wrong with the efforts of those that are my peers from an age, education, or career point of view that can excuse a lower standing for them than what I supposedly deserve? Am I just over-estimating my contribution and significance? Is there, after all, some merit in why things are the way they are and not the way that I want them to be?
I love to be with the "youngsters" and yet I am expected to behave in a particular manner that befits the fact that I have been working as a profesional for almost a decade now while the real "youngsters" still have to get out of their alma mater. I want to have my say and give my suggestions on discussions that go on in the household but am not considered mature enough to understand the implications of everything and the one all-defeating explanation of experience giving wisdom is invariably unassailable.
I have had reasonable success at work, getting ahead of the curve thanks to some fortuitous circumstances and some kind seniors. I have been pretty fortunate in getting the kind of responsibilities that I have, learning the kind of things that I can, achieving the successes that I do. But what is up next? Does life stop here or is there more to achieve? Of course there is, much more but as some will say, all in its due course. But how do I explain that to my ambitious self that does not want to wait for this time to come, whenever it deems fit to?
I want to reach the next level right now. Age and associated assumed lack of experience, peer band parity, HR policies, nepotism, and sheer lack of meritocracy can go back to the stone age and red-tape-infested cobweb that they belong to. Is it too much to ask (and that too in a world that is so competitive) to be given recognition that matches the responsibilities assigned to a person.
What answers do I have to give to my often-cynical mind that keeps asking me as to the stage when the functional role gets translated into a job role? Even companies that are considered evolved in their thought processes have a delay of about 6 month to a year before they shift someone to a higher job role after that person having moved to a higher functional role. Is it too unfair to ask that if you do not consider a person worthy of getting a higher designation, more recognition, better prospects, then why would you assign more and critical work to him and why would you have expectations of him that you would normally not have from a peer of his?
But then there is the other perspective to think of, too...as is always the case. Am I really thinking about what I do as some sort of God's gift to mankind? Is there really something in me that deserves that extra recognition? What is wrong with the efforts of those that are my peers from an age, education, or career point of view that can excuse a lower standing for them than what I supposedly deserve? Am I just over-estimating my contribution and significance? Is there, after all, some merit in why things are the way they are and not the way that I want them to be?
Monday, April 04, 2011
World Cup Cricket 2011: The Glitter
As he stared in the distance, the whole country stared with him. He kept looking at it till it disappeared above the horizon and then all hell broke loose. He didn't know what to do and neither did any of the others who were staring with him. The deed was done, the task accomplished...what next? How does one start believing that what had been elusive for so long is finally within reach, in the hands. His hands...hands of all others...hands of the chaiwallah chotu who had been given a day off that for once, he was not spending nursing his jagged palms. In fact, he was beating them together to join the cacophony all around him.
His eyes seemed dreamy and his smile was so unsure...quite a contrast with what was the situation a moment ago. Grit and concentration had given way to a sheepish grin. Even the teeth were showing through as his partner jumped on to him...elated, overjoyed, as incredulous with it all as he was...he didn't know how to react. The others were celebrating too, jumping on to each other, opening champagne bottles at some places, exchanging the few leftover drops off some soft drink bottle recovered from the trash at others. They were all united though, in their celebrations. He had won, his partner had won, his team and his nation had all achieved one of the biggest wins of their lives.
India...champions of World Cup Cricket 2011. Doesn't it sound surreal...even now? The celebrations are still going on, parties are giving way to other parties and blue tees, though replaced by formal striped shirts, have made sure that the color blue is retained at least in the stripes. Every new day brings with itself a new realization of what it means to be the world champions and not just for the people who made it happen, the 15 crorepati team members of the Indian cricket squad, but for millions of others who took it upon themselves to make sure the country won. They performed pujas, skipped offices, reduced their social lives to nothings, faced the brunt at home as they made others skip episode after episode of the popular soap opera...all to watch 11 people running after a small little ball.
The celebrations, though they still continue in one way or the other, were the loudest that night. Loudest and the most emphatic. The rich paraded the cities in their cars, moving downtown in bumper-to-bumper traffic, sticking their heads out of the sun roofs or just sticking out of the windows for the not-so-flashy-car-owning variety. They were carrying flags, playing loud music streaming out of the radio stations, all party songs...shouts of Indiaaaa Indiaaaaaaaaa were everywhere.
The others were shouting too. If not through the stylish cars that they could never dream to own, they had their own ways of feeling a part of the joy that had spread out to them too for once. They could not wave the tricolor (would rather afford clothes that they could wear to protect their modesty) but would still smile at all passers-by and encourage them to fly the flag high up in the air if they were just holding it in their hands. Their eyes were their means of celebration, eyes that were gleaming with pride...eyes that seemed to say that it was not eleven men on the field who had defeated some serious odds to emerge victorious...eyes that were claiming their own share of the spoils...eyes that were smiling, participating, goading on.
As I turned to sleep that night, the image that stood with me was not the one in which Dhoni stood imperiously, having hit the winning shot...not even the one where the master was lifted on to his team-mates' shoulders and paraded around the stadium with the tricolor...not the one in which the Boys in Blue lifted the big one...The World Cup. The image that I had in my eyes as they said a silent prayer to appreciate the joy this night had brought with it...was that of three kids standing in front of a road-side restaurant.
They had probably just finished their routine of serving customers, washing utensils, cooking rotis, etc...or perhaps they were still doing it and had taken a quick break to come out for a minute. They were standing there hand-in-hand, happiness written in capital letters across their faces. They couldn't have seen it on TV, there was none around but would definitely have heard it...on radio, from people who would be bothered enough to tell them the score. They knew for sure that India had done it...that they had done it. As they saw cars flash past, luxury celebrating amidst their misery, their faces were hopeful...hopeful that now that India has won the world cup, they stood a chance as well. Their misery can also end if India's wait for the world cup can end...what if it took 28 years...it will be faster now. The world moves faster now, their lives shall move even faster and they will win again...this time their own personal cups.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Nagpur Diaries
India started off this cricket world cup, like many other tournaments in the recent past, as favorites to win it. Some may say that this was guided not by the talent or form of the team but more by the sheer financial muscle of the Indian cricket board and consequently the media hype surrounding all its activities. Whatever be the reason, India have been the favorites and playing at home, with this being the last world cup the great Sachin would play, the really tall batting order (at least on paper), and of course the spin friendly subcontinent tracks have all been reasons used to justify India's expected fortunes in this tournament.
So far, the progress of the team has been quite steady in the tournament, helped, in no little means, by the way the tournament has been structured and the way India's matches have been scheduled. India has already played the minnows and beat them (not too comprehensively though, raising a few eyebrows enroute) and tied a game with another big contender, the set-on-revival-course England. Almost through to the next stage (pre-ordained of course given the format of the tournament), India met South Africa at Nagpur on Saturday, March 12 in a game that was supposed to be the first acid test of a team that has, in such a matter-of-fact manner, put its claims on being world champions.
This was the background with which I and a few colleagues from office were viewing the upcoming match. Having already made our train reservations to Nagpur, we were frantically looking out for tickets for the match. Things turned to desperation and we turned to desperate measures, buying tickets at 6X premium and actually feeling pleased about it. Slight goof-ups and certain presumptions also meant that we didn't have confirmed train tickets while coming back. Expecting the wait-listed tickets (wait list 6 onwards) to get confirmed with time, we were quite gung-ho about the entire idea of the weekend trip to Nagpur.
And it was time as the whole lot of us found ourselves at the CST station of Mumbai on Friday evening, ready to set off for the Orange city. The start of the journey itself was fraught with events that were quite unexpected. The boss had got extra tickets and one of us had latched on to it, getting last minute wait-listed tickets and the rest of it. Having reached the platform with all of us, he realized at the last moment that the boss's train was re-scheduled and he was not sure if he would make it and if he didn't make it, so wouldn't our guy's match tickets that were with the boss.
Our guy was of the hardened material, though and he took the plunge and got into the train. It was real good that he did, for though the boss didn't manage to come, he ensured the tickets came through and what an extra-ordinary turn of events this resulted in for him and for the rest of us!
As we touched base at Nagpur station amidst the early morning cool breeze, the signs were all there and it couldn't have started any better. Thanks to one of us, who had arranged for a guest house, we were soon refreshed, fed, and ready to take the stadium on. A party shop in Bandra had completed our wardrobe and get-up and we were all set with the tricolor painted on our faces, glowing glares, multi colored and shaped wigs, etc. We had bought Indian flags on the way and even had a couple of posters enticing ESPN and Star to cover us during their broadcast.
Entry into the stadium and our stand was smooth considering the early start we were able to manage from the guest house. The stand itself was awesomeness personified, right behind the bowler's arm and at reasonable altitude, arguably the best place from which one can watch live cricketing action. And what action it turned out to be! It just seemed to get better and better and we were witness to some brilliant batting by India, another masterful century by the little master, some hard hitting by Sehwag.
The peak was built up over such a long time and at such a pace that when the fall came, it hit us real hard. Right from the moment we had got hold of match tickets till the time Sachin was at the crease, things were going in only one direction...up. And down it came after that but how! 29 runs - 9 wickets...the last over by Ashish Nehra...the heart-breaking loss...
As if this was not enough, we realized that the tickets we were counting on to get confirmed did exactly the opposite of our expectations. With the e-ticket automatically canceling itself, we were left without any tickets for our journey back. With our hearts heavy after the Indian defeat, we did not want to spend any more time in Nagpur than necessary and decided as one that it will be better to try getting back to Mumbai as early as possible instead of trying to figure out some other options that will add to the time and more importantly, the money.
So it was that except for the lucky colleague (who, by the way, won a contest in mid-innings, getting a tee and goodie bag for it, got himself snapped with South African fans of the fairer variety, and finally even came on TV when despite all our efforts, we didn't) of ours, we found ourselves in the sleeper coach of the train begging people to let us sit down for a bit. Our friend, of course, got to fly back on a cheap ticket even though he did not even have a wait-listed ticket to begin with...all backed by one of the weirdest stretches of good fortune I have ever seen.
By the time we reached Mumbai, we were completely done in by the heat, dust, discomfort, and all associated perils of the journey back. The only thing we did not feel was boredom, thanks to the amazing gang we befriended on the train who not only happily shared their seats with us but also chatted and played with us all the way through.
Battered and hardened, as we made our ways to our respective homes with drooping shoulders and hoarse voices (what with all the Saccccchhhhiiiin....Sachin shouting), I thought of the team that was played out to be invincible before the tournament started and which was considered so vulnerable now with every day, every match bringing out some new chink in the armor. We will all get back to work the next day I thought, shrugging off the travails of the Nagpur trip slowly and surely. Will the Indian team also get over the pedestals they have been placed on and then thrown out of, all of it in such a hurry? Will they get back to believing in themselves and not the hype surrounding them? Will they stop being blind to their faults and finish wallowing in the make-believe world their fans would want them to be a part of? Will the day we were just witness to turn out into being just another day for the Team in Blue or will it be the day that made a difference...ye sab dekhenge hum log!
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