These goats were lounging about on the foot-path besides one of the main streets in Ooty, until one decided to inspect the stock, when a corn-cob seller stepped away from her stall for a while.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Southwards bound: At Cochin
After having enjoyed an interesting journey from Delhi to Goa, seen some marvellous specimens of architecture there, made some new friends and having enjoyed some of the sea and sand at Goa's beaches, we went on to Cochin. It was a little more than an overnight journey and we arrived there on a rainy afternoon.
Lunch, comprised of traditional South Indian fare including rice, daal (lentil soup), curd and pickle, was had at the Ernakulam railway station itself and then an auto-rickshaw was hired to take us and our luggage to a budget hotel. By the time we had checked in, relaxed for a while and freshened up, it was already evening and we decided to set out to explore the place.
The driver of the auto-rickshaw that we hired to go to the nearest point on the sea-shore turned out to be quite gregarious. He told us about the antipathy between the local people and migrants from the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu, who are mainly engaged in unskilled and semi-skilled labour.
As we drove over a bridge across a channel to reach a man-made island created by the British from the materials dredged while deepening the port in 1935-39, where the headquarters of the Indian Navy's Southern Command are also located, we could see a couple of naval boats that had been painted completely grey to match the colour of the sea. Many other multi-coloured civilian craft bobbed up and down around them.
We saw several colonial-era buildings on the way, some of which, I believe, were occupied by the Indian Navy. The style of architecture certainly appeared somewhat different from that of those we had seen in Goa. That could have been because apart from the Portuguese, Cochin had been occupied by the Dutch as well as the British, during different periods of time in its history. We passed a museum, as well, but it was closed, either because it was well past its closing time or it was meant to remain closed on that particular day of the week.
At the sea-side, there was an elevated, paved path along the shore that was separated from the edge of the water by rocks and pebbles of all shapes and sizes. In the distance, we could see some ships at anchor. As we walked along, we came across several wooden platforms that were supported by wooden poles and extended well into the water. At the far edge of each of these, were fishing nets of a peculiar kind that had been mounted on large wooden frames.
A dog hopped, skipped and jumped over the rocks to find its way to a shiny little fish that lay dead on one. It is difficult to imagine whether it was already dead when the waves deposited it there or it died later as the tide receded or if being smashed against a boulder made it lose its life.
Soon, as it began to get dark, we returned to where the auto-rickshaw was parked and asked to be driven back to the hotel. The driver, however, had another idea and took us to the baazaar (market-place), where he knew of a shop that sold a huge variety of the most exotic of spices. My mother was obviously pleased to be there and made several purchases.
A gigantic structure that we saw while getting there, my father told us, was part of a ship-building facility. I also noticed that several of the buses plying on the roads did not have any glass window panes and had tarpaulins instead, which could be folded up to let in plenty of the breeze, in order to provide some relief from the hot and humid weather.
Finally, we bade farewell to the taxi driver and went for dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. We had biryaani and Kerala paraathha, a variant of the Punjabi paraathha that Keralites have devised.
Early the next morning, we left for Ooty.
Lunch, comprised of traditional South Indian fare including rice, daal (lentil soup), curd and pickle, was had at the Ernakulam railway station itself and then an auto-rickshaw was hired to take us and our luggage to a budget hotel. By the time we had checked in, relaxed for a while and freshened up, it was already evening and we decided to set out to explore the place.
The driver of the auto-rickshaw that we hired to go to the nearest point on the sea-shore turned out to be quite gregarious. He told us about the antipathy between the local people and migrants from the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu, who are mainly engaged in unskilled and semi-skilled labour.
As we drove over a bridge across a channel to reach a man-made island created by the British from the materials dredged while deepening the port in 1935-39, where the headquarters of the Indian Navy's Southern Command are also located, we could see a couple of naval boats that had been painted completely grey to match the colour of the sea. Many other multi-coloured civilian craft bobbed up and down around them.
We saw several colonial-era buildings on the way, some of which, I believe, were occupied by the Indian Navy. The style of architecture certainly appeared somewhat different from that of those we had seen in Goa. That could have been because apart from the Portuguese, Cochin had been occupied by the Dutch as well as the British, during different periods of time in its history. We passed a museum, as well, but it was closed, either because it was well past its closing time or it was meant to remain closed on that particular day of the week.
At the sea-side, there was an elevated, paved path along the shore that was separated from the edge of the water by rocks and pebbles of all shapes and sizes. In the distance, we could see some ships at anchor. As we walked along, we came across several wooden platforms that were supported by wooden poles and extended well into the water. At the far edge of each of these, were fishing nets of a peculiar kind that had been mounted on large wooden frames.
A dog hopped, skipped and jumped over the rocks to find its way to a shiny little fish that lay dead on one. It is difficult to imagine whether it was already dead when the waves deposited it there or it died later as the tide receded or if being smashed against a boulder made it lose its life.
Soon, as it began to get dark, we returned to where the auto-rickshaw was parked and asked to be driven back to the hotel. The driver, however, had another idea and took us to the baazaar (market-place), where he knew of a shop that sold a huge variety of the most exotic of spices. My mother was obviously pleased to be there and made several purchases.
A gigantic structure that we saw while getting there, my father told us, was part of a ship-building facility. I also noticed that several of the buses plying on the roads did not have any glass window panes and had tarpaulins instead, which could be folded up to let in plenty of the breeze, in order to provide some relief from the hot and humid weather.
Finally, we bade farewell to the taxi driver and went for dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. We had biryaani and Kerala paraathha, a variant of the Punjabi paraathha that Keralites have devised.
Early the next morning, we left for Ooty.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Golden Oldie - II
Here is another rare gem that I have been able to unearth, once again, with the help of Tasveerein on the B4U Movies channel on television.
Film: Funtoosh (1956)
Singer: Kishore Kumar
Music Director: S. D. Burman
Lyricist: Sahir Ludhianvi
Film: Funtoosh (1956)
Singer: Kishore Kumar
Music Director: S. D. Burman
Lyricist: Sahir Ludhianvi
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
'V' for Victory
It was his birthday on March 21 and that reminded me of the fact that we have not communicated with each other for several years now.
We met for the first time in late 1989, soon after I moved to Chandigarh, along with my family. He was among my class-mates at school. Both of us lived in the same sector of the city and used to ride our respective bicycles together every day, at least on the way back home, since I was almost invariably late in the mornings. We were in standard IX then.
After completing standard X, he got himself admitted to a college, while I remained at the same school as before. Within the next three years, we passed the standard XII examinations and then spent a year without having joined any educational institution as he meant to re-appear and improve his scores and I hoped to be able to prepare better for the tests for admission into an engineering course.
During all those years, we remained the closest of friends. Besides being together at school and, later, going for private tuition classes, we used to spend a lot of time in each other's company. He would often come to visit in the evenings and remain seated on his bicycle (which was replaced by a scooter, after he got a driving licence) just outside the gate, while I stood inside, and we would talk for hours on end, even as we ogled at passers-by. At other times, I would visit his place and we would sit in his room and chat, while munching on some tasty snack or the other that his mother plied us with.
More time at hand was filled with long walks or skating along the periphery of the Sukhna lake or hanging out at the piazza in sector 17 along with some other friends.
I often remember some of the pranks that we played on unsuspecting people and smile to myself. For instance, one fine day, when my family as well as the nice folk who lived upstairs had gone out, we climbed up, through the cutout, to what could perhaps be termed as their back-yard, using a stool to get on to the upper rail of a window sash and then clambering up a wall and walking carefully across its narrow top-surface, almost like real-life commandos. We had carried along his .22 calibre air-rifle and a box of lead pellets, in addition to a pair of field glasses. The parapet had been constructed in such a way that there were gaps between the bricks, large enough to pass the barrel of the gun through and take aim without really being seen, except from a very short distance.
We took turns shooting at the window panes of a house across the road. The air-rifle was not powerful enough for any of the shots to break the thick glass across the distance of about 100-150 metres, however, a loud noise was produced each time a pellet found its mark. The occupants of the house must have been flummoxed! At first, an old woman came out to investigate, but went back inside within a minute or two. We shot a few more times. Shortly, her beautiful grand-daughter stepped out to try and locate the source of the noise. That was when the field glasses came in handy!
There were many other such incidents, which I can not recall without a chuckle, during those four years or so, at the end of which my friend joined the Merchant Navy, like his father and elder brother. I recall that I had written "V for victory and V for Vishal" on the card that I gave him, to wish him for his birthday, soon before he left.
Subsequently, I joined a local college to pursue a bachelor's degree in arts, having realised that being the teetotaller that I am, science and mathematics were not really my cups of tea. I did not get to see him until when I was in the third and final year, as he completed his training and then continued to sail from one port to another. Unfortunately, during the days that he came to visit the hometown, I was preparing for the entrance examinations for a post graduate course in management, besides preparing for those of the final year of the graduate degree, and was not able to manage to spare the kind of time for him that I should have. He left without saying farewell, at the end of his vacation.
Soon thereafter, I moved to Indore in the state of Madhya Pradesh where I had secured admission in a C-grade business school. I had taken his mailing address from his mother before I left and wrote to him from there. We corresponded a few times after that and also spoke to each other over the telephone, even after I completed the course and moved to the national capital region, where my parents had shifted residence to by that time.
Then, his brother got married and I sent a congratulatory note. He wrote back to regret the fact that he had not invited me. I responded with a letter full of anger. He never replied. Since then, I have written several times, to wish him and his family a happy new year or to wish him a happy birthday, but have not heard from him. His father was kind enough to call me once to enquire after my well being and to assure me that he would pass my message on to Vishal, which I am sure he must have done.
The Almighty alone knows whether I shall ever be re-united with my friend, but the effect that having lost a friend has had on me is that I have become more forgiving and receptive to sincere apologies.
We met for the first time in late 1989, soon after I moved to Chandigarh, along with my family. He was among my class-mates at school. Both of us lived in the same sector of the city and used to ride our respective bicycles together every day, at least on the way back home, since I was almost invariably late in the mornings. We were in standard IX then.
After completing standard X, he got himself admitted to a college, while I remained at the same school as before. Within the next three years, we passed the standard XII examinations and then spent a year without having joined any educational institution as he meant to re-appear and improve his scores and I hoped to be able to prepare better for the tests for admission into an engineering course.
During all those years, we remained the closest of friends. Besides being together at school and, later, going for private tuition classes, we used to spend a lot of time in each other's company. He would often come to visit in the evenings and remain seated on his bicycle (which was replaced by a scooter, after he got a driving licence) just outside the gate, while I stood inside, and we would talk for hours on end, even as we ogled at passers-by. At other times, I would visit his place and we would sit in his room and chat, while munching on some tasty snack or the other that his mother plied us with.
More time at hand was filled with long walks or skating along the periphery of the Sukhna lake or hanging out at the piazza in sector 17 along with some other friends.
I often remember some of the pranks that we played on unsuspecting people and smile to myself. For instance, one fine day, when my family as well as the nice folk who lived upstairs had gone out, we climbed up, through the cutout, to what could perhaps be termed as their back-yard, using a stool to get on to the upper rail of a window sash and then clambering up a wall and walking carefully across its narrow top-surface, almost like real-life commandos. We had carried along his .22 calibre air-rifle and a box of lead pellets, in addition to a pair of field glasses. The parapet had been constructed in such a way that there were gaps between the bricks, large enough to pass the barrel of the gun through and take aim without really being seen, except from a very short distance.
We took turns shooting at the window panes of a house across the road. The air-rifle was not powerful enough for any of the shots to break the thick glass across the distance of about 100-150 metres, however, a loud noise was produced each time a pellet found its mark. The occupants of the house must have been flummoxed! At first, an old woman came out to investigate, but went back inside within a minute or two. We shot a few more times. Shortly, her beautiful grand-daughter stepped out to try and locate the source of the noise. That was when the field glasses came in handy!
There were many other such incidents, which I can not recall without a chuckle, during those four years or so, at the end of which my friend joined the Merchant Navy, like his father and elder brother. I recall that I had written "V for victory and V for Vishal" on the card that I gave him, to wish him for his birthday, soon before he left.
Subsequently, I joined a local college to pursue a bachelor's degree in arts, having realised that being the teetotaller that I am, science and mathematics were not really my cups of tea. I did not get to see him until when I was in the third and final year, as he completed his training and then continued to sail from one port to another. Unfortunately, during the days that he came to visit the hometown, I was preparing for the entrance examinations for a post graduate course in management, besides preparing for those of the final year of the graduate degree, and was not able to manage to spare the kind of time for him that I should have. He left without saying farewell, at the end of his vacation.
Soon thereafter, I moved to Indore in the state of Madhya Pradesh where I had secured admission in a C-grade business school. I had taken his mailing address from his mother before I left and wrote to him from there. We corresponded a few times after that and also spoke to each other over the telephone, even after I completed the course and moved to the national capital region, where my parents had shifted residence to by that time.
Then, his brother got married and I sent a congratulatory note. He wrote back to regret the fact that he had not invited me. I responded with a letter full of anger. He never replied. Since then, I have written several times, to wish him and his family a happy new year or to wish him a happy birthday, but have not heard from him. His father was kind enough to call me once to enquire after my well being and to assure me that he would pass my message on to Vishal, which I am sure he must have done.
The Almighty alone knows whether I shall ever be re-united with my friend, but the effect that having lost a friend has had on me is that I have become more forgiving and receptive to sincere apologies.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Golden Oldie
The B4U Movies channel on television airs songs from old Hindi movies every night around 1 a.m., which often include some from the black and white era, on a show called Tasveerein. Here is one such rare gem that has been on the show more than once. I would like to offer my sincerest apologies, in advance, to those who do not understand Hindi/Urdu. I am sure they, too, can enjoy the music, however.
Film: Ek Raaz (which released in the year 1963)
Singer: Kishore Kumar (on whom the song has been picturised, as well)
Music Director: Chitragupt
Lyricist: Majrooh Sultanpuri
Film: Ek Raaz (which released in the year 1963)
Singer: Kishore Kumar (on whom the song has been picturised, as well)
Music Director: Chitragupt
Lyricist: Majrooh Sultanpuri
Thursday, March 13, 2008
My father's memories of November 1984
My father has been kind enough to pen down some of his experiences and memories from those tumultuous times, which are as follows:
"There is no doubt that the anti-Sikh riots in 1984 were a totally planned process. This is borne out by my personal experiences described here. The identities of those who carried out the planning not only in Delhi, but all over the Hindi belt, have been suppressed by the commissions or investigating agencies.
I was working with Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited (BHEL), Hardwar, in 1984 and living in the BHEL colony at Ranipur, Hardwar.
We were in office on 31st October when the news of Indira Gandhi's assassination came in. There were no ill-feelings among the staff members except one or two personal clashes.
However, when we went to office on 1st November, the atmosphere had totally changed. People were huddled in groups and discussing something that they wanted to keep from me, but since we had been working together for nearly 20 years, they hesitatingly informed me that there was a list of Sikh properties and establishments, which were to be attacked and burned down on that day. The process was to start from the other end of Hardwar, near Bhimgoda, and end in BHEL and Jwalapur in the evening or at night.
Based on the list, people were monitoring the progress by contacting their near and dear ones by telephone and confirming whether the arsonists had burnt down this property or were proceeding to that property.
Throughout the day, I could see that the process was going almost as planned, because the police were with the arsonists, which was confirmed later, as described in some of the following paragraphs.
In the evening, when I reached home, I observed that many people had collected on the roof-top of the house just behind mine and were discussing loudly among themselves about Sant Talkies (a cinema-hall owned by a Sikh) having been set on fire. Since, Sant Talkies was located near BHEL and it represented the last item in the list for Hardwar, they had apparently been prepared to watch the show of the burning of the cinema hall, in the evening.
Since there was plenty of movement on the roads at that time, I decided to go and fetch the family's milk supply, which had to be brought from the other end of the colony, on foot, as I usually did. As I walked through the colony, I could hear people calling out to each other to proceed to the BHEL Gurdwara to participate in the attack on it or, at least, to watch it being destroyed.
As I was returning, I could see the crowds thickening and moving towards the Gurdwara. By the time I reached home, I could see huge crowds surrounding the Gurdwara and, subsequently, burning it down.
Sensing trouble, my family and I locked ourselves up in the house and simply waited for events to take shape.
Our neighbours were celebrating and saying that today our family was going to be eliminated. They were storing water in drums, which, according to them, was meant to be used for preventing the fire from spreading to their own houses, when ours was set on fire.
The mob, after burning the Gurdwara, went to the house of one of the Gurdwara's managing committee's members, but he and his family members escaped death, although injuries were sustained. The mob went away after his aged father drew a gun and prepared to shoot at the attackers. Another member of the committee was shot at with a country-made pistol, but he also escaped death as the bullet only grazed his neck.
Late into the night, the BHEL administration called in the army from the Raiwala cantonment and so the rest of the days of anti-Sikh violence in India passed off peacefully for us.
After a few days, my motorcycle mechanic visited me (I used to own an Ideal Jawa motorbike, at that time). He was a Sikh gentleman. I could not recognise him until he identified himself, as he was clean-shaven. When I asked him, he told me about all that had happened.
He used to be the only mechanic in Hardwar who could repair the Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycles. So, all police personnel of Hardwar used to go to him for getting their official motorcycles repaired. He said that early in the morning of 1st November, some policemen came to his house and told him that he was one of the targets on that day's list. They told him that they did not want him to be killed, but they could not protect him either. So, they suggested that he remove all external symbols of Sikhism, become clean-shaven and seek 'forgiveness' from the leaders of the mob, when they came to attack him and his motor-garage. So, in this way, they told him, he could be saved and not lose his source of livelihood i.e. his motorcycle repair facility.
He acted accordingly and he and his garage were spared.
He and some others also told me that when the Sikh establishments were looted and burned, the police personnel were encouraging the people to loot and were also noting down the names and addresses of the looters, as well as the items that each of them had looted. Later on they visited the looters and demanded a share, or, the looted items, if the looters were not prepared to pay.
One of Giani Zail Singh's (who was the president of India at that point of time)relatives was also working with BHEL, Hardwar. He told me that when he rang up Giani Zail Singh to ask for protection, Giani ji informed him that he was virtually a prisoner himself and unable to move out of the Rashtrapati Bhawan. The president told him that being helpless himself, he was unable to offer any help and that the relative should manage on his own, as best as he could.
These events clearly prove that the whole operation was very well-planned and the details known, in advance, to all concerned, including the police, so that all activities could go ahead as scheduled.
The conditions were similar in many other cities of the Hindi belt as well as in Delhi, as I subsequently came to know from many other Sikhs as well non-Sikhs, who were witness to such events."
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Another Book Tag...
This time the tag requires me to reach out for the nearest book, open page 123, grab the fifth line and add the next three lines to the blog-post.
So, I have reached out and picked up the nearest book. It is titled 'A House for Mr. Biswas' and the author is V. S. Naipaul. I have opened page 123. However, I think I shall grab the third line instead of the fifth.
So, I have reached out and picked up the nearest book. It is titled 'A House for Mr. Biswas' and the author is V. S. Naipaul. I have opened page 123. However, I think I shall grab the third line instead of the fifth.
"I see you have got your name in the papers," Seth said.As for what the book is all about, I have no idea, for I have not read it. The tag, after all, mentioned reaching out for the nearest book and nothing at all about reading it!
Mr. Biswas shrugged.
The gods swung slowly in the hammock, frowning.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Cleaning Punjab's Polluted Waters
Over the recent past, I have been reading news-reports of the people of Punjab suffering from the ill-effects of drinking polluted water. This has not only been on account of untreated industrial effluents, but also due to unprecedented amounts of chemical pesticides and fertilisers being used and ultimately seeping down into the ground water, which is a major source of drinking water in the rural areas.
Over the long term, obviously, the solution lies in getting the industrialists to set up treatment plants, so that untreated effluents do not reach drinking water sources. Additionally, chemical pesticides and fertilisers have to be gradually replaced with biotic ones.
The problem is very real, however, and requires to be dealt with in the immediate future. After all, it is now that the people who drink the water are afflicted with all sorts of diseases and genetic malformations.
Facilities like water-works are not available in the villages and are unlikely to become available over the short- to medium-term. Therefore, it is imperative that cost-effective means for purification of water by the villagers themselves be made available.
Since the impurities are well-dissolved, processes like sedimentation, decantation and filtration are, obviously, not likely to be of much help, as these are meant for removing suspended impurities only. Reverse osmosis is not only somewhat expensive and, therefore, not accessible to every one, but may also not act effectively enough on impurities originating from insecticides, even as it can remove residues of metals like lead (Pb) and mercury (Hg). An advertisement for a leading brand that I perused, stated that the product on offer 'reduces' and does not remove completely, the impurities related to insecticides. Considering the fact that such content can be quite high in the ground-water in Punjab's rural areas, the quantities that remain even after passing it through a reverse osmosis plant may still be too high for it to be safe for drinking.
Therefore, to my mind, the best alternative that remains is fractional distillation. It is important, however, that the apparatus that is made available is portable so that the villagers can use it conveniently and is made of locally available material, as far as possible, so that it can be cost-effective. Also, it should be workable with locally available fuels derived from crop waste or animal waste.
In terms of inexpensive technology, inputs may be taken from the locally developed process for the distillation of country-made liquor. That could, I am sure, serve as a starting point, at the very least.
I fervently hope that the relevant government departments or some non-governmental organisations or local entrepreneurs or corporate philanthropists can step up to the challenge at the earliest possible.
Over the long term, obviously, the solution lies in getting the industrialists to set up treatment plants, so that untreated effluents do not reach drinking water sources. Additionally, chemical pesticides and fertilisers have to be gradually replaced with biotic ones.
The problem is very real, however, and requires to be dealt with in the immediate future. After all, it is now that the people who drink the water are afflicted with all sorts of diseases and genetic malformations.
Facilities like water-works are not available in the villages and are unlikely to become available over the short- to medium-term. Therefore, it is imperative that cost-effective means for purification of water by the villagers themselves be made available.
Since the impurities are well-dissolved, processes like sedimentation, decantation and filtration are, obviously, not likely to be of much help, as these are meant for removing suspended impurities only. Reverse osmosis is not only somewhat expensive and, therefore, not accessible to every one, but may also not act effectively enough on impurities originating from insecticides, even as it can remove residues of metals like lead (Pb) and mercury (Hg). An advertisement for a leading brand that I perused, stated that the product on offer 'reduces' and does not remove completely, the impurities related to insecticides. Considering the fact that such content can be quite high in the ground-water in Punjab's rural areas, the quantities that remain even after passing it through a reverse osmosis plant may still be too high for it to be safe for drinking.
Therefore, to my mind, the best alternative that remains is fractional distillation. It is important, however, that the apparatus that is made available is portable so that the villagers can use it conveniently and is made of locally available material, as far as possible, so that it can be cost-effective. Also, it should be workable with locally available fuels derived from crop waste or animal waste.
In terms of inexpensive technology, inputs may be taken from the locally developed process for the distillation of country-made liquor. That could, I am sure, serve as a starting point, at the very least.
I fervently hope that the relevant government departments or some non-governmental organisations or local entrepreneurs or corporate philanthropists can step up to the challenge at the earliest possible.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Friday, February 08, 2008
Technology Tag
This time the tag is about technology and the difference that it has made to my life.
A little less than two years ago, I visited Pakistan along with my family. This was a unique experience, not only for me, but also for my parents and younger brother. None of us had been to that country before and, given the mercurial relationship between India and Pakistan, it is always difficult to say as to when or if at all there would be a next time.
Being Punjabis visiting the part of Punjab that lies on the other side of the border, we were glad to note that almost everything, apart from the religious faith that most people practise over there, is very similar to that in the Indian part of Punjab. There were a lot of interesting asides too, in addition to a heavy dose of nostalgia and a nice, warm kind of feeling inspired by the shared Punjabiyat.
So, when we returned home, after having spent ten days that were among the most memorable ones of our lives, enjoying the neighbours' hospitality, I wanted to share the experience with friends and family. I would have written a series of emails to them, but then I discovered blogging and it offered the prospect of not only sharing a lot of all that I had seen and heard with a lot more people, but, possibly, could also afford me the chance to make a tiny contribution towards the promotion of peace and friendship. So, here we are!
If it had been the pre-internet era, or, at least, those times when I was not too familiar with the World-Wide-Web, I would have written a series of letters to the editors of various newspapers, though it might have been rather difficult to get all of those published and there would probably have been no readers from outside of the sub-continent, which would have reduced the impact considerably.
I quote from one of the earliest comments on my blog (which was posted at another online location, where I had initially started blogging):
The searchable nature of information on the internet has more than once led to those whom I have written about landing up at the relevant blog-posts and posting comments.
Also, as I am the writer, editor and publisher of the weblog, all rolled into one, I have complete control over the content, which would not have been possible otherwise, unless I had the resources to bring out my own newspaper or journal.
A little less than two years ago, I visited Pakistan along with my family. This was a unique experience, not only for me, but also for my parents and younger brother. None of us had been to that country before and, given the mercurial relationship between India and Pakistan, it is always difficult to say as to when or if at all there would be a next time.
Being Punjabis visiting the part of Punjab that lies on the other side of the border, we were glad to note that almost everything, apart from the religious faith that most people practise over there, is very similar to that in the Indian part of Punjab. There were a lot of interesting asides too, in addition to a heavy dose of nostalgia and a nice, warm kind of feeling inspired by the shared Punjabiyat.
So, when we returned home, after having spent ten days that were among the most memorable ones of our lives, enjoying the neighbours' hospitality, I wanted to share the experience with friends and family. I would have written a series of emails to them, but then I discovered blogging and it offered the prospect of not only sharing a lot of all that I had seen and heard with a lot more people, but, possibly, could also afford me the chance to make a tiny contribution towards the promotion of peace and friendship. So, here we are!
If it had been the pre-internet era, or, at least, those times when I was not too familiar with the World-Wide-Web, I would have written a series of letters to the editors of various newspapers, though it might have been rather difficult to get all of those published and there would probably have been no readers from outside of the sub-continent, which would have reduced the impact considerably.
I quote from one of the earliest comments on my blog (which was posted at another online location, where I had initially started blogging):
"Thanks for posting this, as the only time the West hears of the borders you speak of is when there's fighting. This leaves the impression that all that exists is violence. We know this not to be true, of course, but every message of peace, understanding, acceptance and tolerance counts massively."Besides, since blogging allows for instant feedback, I have, in fact, had the privilege to interact with those from countries as far as the U.S., the U.K., the U.A.E., Belgium and Romania, aside from readers from places closer to home i.e. in India and Pakistan.
The searchable nature of information on the internet has more than once led to those whom I have written about landing up at the relevant blog-posts and posting comments.
Also, as I am the writer, editor and publisher of the weblog, all rolled into one, I have complete control over the content, which would not have been possible otherwise, unless I had the resources to bring out my own newspaper or journal.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Corruption in the Indian Private Sector
I received the following message through email recently, offering me a 'contract' that I could sign in order to recieve bribes on a consistent basis:
Dear Candidate
Greetings !
We are presenting an offer to be a part time employee of our company and
earn whatever you want. For this you need not to spend extra time, you need not
to go anywhere, just pay your attention and cooperation to our company.
Basically we are Manpower Solution Company and focusing on recruitment
consultancy and Manpower Outsourcing. With a huge Client base, we are serving
our Clients nationwide and we are very much capable to give quality staffing
services in almost all Industry and all functional areas.
What You Are Supposed To Do.
a) Introduce our Consultancy to your Concerned
Company.
b) Finish formality of singeing of our Terms and
Condition.
c) Send us your Company’s staffing requirements so that
we can refer the best professional to your concerned Company for recruitment and
all.
d) We will start working on given requirement to serve
your Company the best.
e) We will Line-up the most suitable candidates for the
interview.
f) You are supposed to be in contact throughout
selection process, give us proper feedback and suggestion to close the
position.
g) Finally the referred candidate will have been
recruited at your company.
h) We will produce the bill for clearance to your
Concerned Company.
i) Within Ten days of bill clearance the
percentage which is your Remuneration, will be transferred in your given Bank
Account.
j) The Percentage will be given on billing
amount after reducing Service Tax. The Remuneration amount will vary on basis of
billing amount in a month. Which would be as given bellow-
(1) If Billing Amount is Less than Rs.50000 in a month, your amount
will be 10% of billing amount.
(2) If Billing Amount is more than Rs.50000 and less than Rs. 1 Lac
in a month, your amount will be 15% of billing amount.
(3) If Billing Amount is more than Rs.1 Lac and less than Rs. 2 Lac
in a month, your amount will be 25% of billing amount.
(4) If Billing Amount is more than Rs.2 Lac in a month, your amount
will be 30% of billing amount.
So start working, Send us your confirmation mail or queries along with your
Contact details.
We are waiting for a warm reply, If need arises what so ever, please feel
free to contact us.
Regards
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sidhusaaheb at the Auto Expo 2008
It appears almost surreal now. For all of a hundred and twelve rupees, a nearly destitute, sometimes-employed man like me could go and take a close look at some of the loveliest automobiles in the world. Twelve rupees, incidentally, was the to and fro fare for the train ride between home and the venue of the exposition i.e. Pragati Maidan, New Delhi, with the rest being the entry fee.
Apart from the current range of products that each manufacturer participating in the show sells in the country, a number of other vehicles had also been displayed. Among all of these, there were some that especially caught my eye.
The highlight of the trip was coming face to face with the small general-purpose vehicle that has, arguably, the best off-road capabilities, available to the civilian population of the world i.e. the Hummer. The H2 on display at the General Motors pavilion was maroon in colour and, needless to add, looked absolutely stunning. Strangely enough, none of the Auto Expo-related coverage in the newspapers had alerted me in advance to the fact that it was being shown there.
At the Maruti-Suzuki pavilion, I was glad to note that the small hatch-back Splash, which is meant to replace the Wagon R, in fact, looks a lot more like a car should, than the Wagon R (the reasons for the sales of which I have never been able to fathom so far and which closely resembles a match-box in shape). Prospective buyers can expect to have a choice between versions with the 1 litre engine being driven by manual and automatic transmissions. The A-star concept that is also supposed to be releasing soon does not look bad at all, except for the pink turn-indicators, but appears to be rather too low slung to be practicable on Indian roads. The SX4 on display was a hatch-back, as against the saloon version being sold here, and done up like a World Rally Championship car, though I am not sure if it had actually taken part in the WRC. The photograph posted above is of a Suzuki concept that looked absolutely fabulous!
FIAT had displayed the new Linea, which has a grill with a very naughty, toothy grin, almost like Garfield the cat! The new FIAT 500 that has retro-styling quite akin to its ancester with the same name, but has a much more powerful engine, was also parked nearby.
The Tata Nano does look like a toy car from the land of Noddy and friends, but still appeared quite capable of comfortably seating four adults, at least two of whom could be up to six feet tall. However, I do not think that it is capable of doing more than 75-80 kilometres an hour, with that kind of a load, despite the claimed top-speed of 105.
So, here is a suggestion I have for Tata Motors. They should bring out a hybrid version of the car with an electric motor and a set of batteries accomodated in the boot. Contrary to popular perception, this would be to enhance the car's performance, more than anything else. A mechanism to charge the batteries by harnessing the motion of the wheels could be devised and installed in the car. Even after the wheel bearings are replaced with those of a better quality, in order to cope with a higher top-speed (an electronically limited 120 kilometres an hour or so, perhaps), I suppose the variant could still be priced somewhere around the current price of a standard Maruti 800. I leave it to the technicians to decide whether the brakes and the suspension would have to be worked upon as well.
Meanwhile, I am quite impressed with all that the company has done with the styling and design of the latest avatar of the Sumo i.e. the Grande. However, it remains to be seen whether the brand will be able to recover from the boxes-welded-together kind of image that, I believe, has largely been responsible for the Sumo being mainly used as a commercial vehicle so far. So, the changes might actually have come rather too late in the day for it to gain respectability in the Sport Utility Vehicle (SUV) or Multi Utility Vehicle (MUV) market now.
The Xenon appears to have been derived from what once used to be the Tatamobile, and looked a bit tacky, upon closer examination.
Skoda, BMW and Volvo had a number of gorgeous vehicles on display. These included Skoda's hatch-back Fabia, Volvo's SUV XC90, besides the cabriolets Volvo C70 and the BMW 650i.
Honda were showing the Jazz, which is being already sold as the Honda Fit in some other countries and is the soon-to-be-launched hatch-back version of its popular City model, besides the fuel-cell car FCX, even though it appeared somewhat larger and different from the FCX that I remembered having seen in advertisements earlier.
I also had a look at DC's Ambierod, the much-hyped Rs.400,00,000 Indian-made luxury car. I suppose the only use that any one can have for it in this country is to drive from an airport lounge to a waiting aircraft and vice versa. Otherwise, the front bumper is so low that it could hardly ever clear any of the speed-breakers of the sort that are almost omnipresent on the roads of cities like Delhi, for instance.
Among the motorcycle manufacturers, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Honda had all brought along a number of bikes with engine capacities upwards of 500 cubic centimetres, like the Yamaha R1 and those from the Kawasaki Ninja and the Honda CBR series. Apparently, they have heard of underground racing circuits like the one that uses the Greater Noida expressway for a track and the number of suberbikes that are being imported by those who are not racing enthusiasts, as well, from which it is evident that a niche market exists for such cycles.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Auction the Bharat Ratna!
Over the past few days, the government of India has been receiving missives from various political parties, recommending various politicians, who are either dead or retired or soon to retire or in a state of semi-retirement, for the nation's highest civilian honour i.e. the Bharat Ratna.
The Bharatiya Janata Party has recommended Mr. Atal Behari Vajpayee, the Bahujan Samaj Party has recommended the late Mr. Kanshi Ram, the communists are supposed to have been peddling the name of Mr. Jyoti Basu, whereas the Akalis are now supposed to have joined the race with Mr. Parkash Singh Badal as their candidate and the Telugu Desam Party is not far behind with their demand for the award to go to the late Mr. N. T. Rama Rao.
More parties could, possibly, join the fray as the 'race' continues to heat up.
All of this reminds me of the kind of fervour that securing a 'V. I. P.' registration number for their vehicles evokes among people, who used to employ every trick in the book, including getting recommendation letters from 'influential' people, in order to be able to get a number of their choice, until the respective state governments began to openly auction such numbers.
In view of the above, it would probably be best if the central government decides to go for an open auction of the Bharat Ratna, as well. The various political parties can then bid for the award (which would, of course, stop being an honour, thereafter), for a candidate of their choice. This could be a 'win-win' situation for the politicians as well as the ordinary people, since some of the ill-gotten wealth of the politicians can be transferred to the exchequer in this manner and, hopefully, used for the common good, even as the politicians can hope to impress the electorate in a more effective manner in subsequent elections, by citing the instance of the Bharat Ratna having been awarded to one of their party members.
Additionally, the committee that decides upon whom to bestow the Bharat Ratna, at the moment, can then be disbanded and the resources that it has at its disposal can be put to other uses, including finding ways and means for further enhancement of the public image of the party that wins the bid.
The Bharatiya Janata Party has recommended Mr. Atal Behari Vajpayee, the Bahujan Samaj Party has recommended the late Mr. Kanshi Ram, the communists are supposed to have been peddling the name of Mr. Jyoti Basu, whereas the Akalis are now supposed to have joined the race with Mr. Parkash Singh Badal as their candidate and the Telugu Desam Party is not far behind with their demand for the award to go to the late Mr. N. T. Rama Rao.
More parties could, possibly, join the fray as the 'race' continues to heat up.
All of this reminds me of the kind of fervour that securing a 'V. I. P.' registration number for their vehicles evokes among people, who used to employ every trick in the book, including getting recommendation letters from 'influential' people, in order to be able to get a number of their choice, until the respective state governments began to openly auction such numbers.
In view of the above, it would probably be best if the central government decides to go for an open auction of the Bharat Ratna, as well. The various political parties can then bid for the award (which would, of course, stop being an honour, thereafter), for a candidate of their choice. This could be a 'win-win' situation for the politicians as well as the ordinary people, since some of the ill-gotten wealth of the politicians can be transferred to the exchequer in this manner and, hopefully, used for the common good, even as the politicians can hope to impress the electorate in a more effective manner in subsequent elections, by citing the instance of the Bharat Ratna having been awarded to one of their party members.
Additionally, the committee that decides upon whom to bestow the Bharat Ratna, at the moment, can then be disbanded and the resources that it has at its disposal can be put to other uses, including finding ways and means for further enhancement of the public image of the party that wins the bid.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Remembrances...
It has been a year now.
This photograph was taken much earlier, of course, when the little one decided to take a nap one afternoon, using the edge of my slipper as a pillow.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Wish fulfilment and a strange co-incidence
A few blog-posts ago, Raza Rumi had left a comment stating that he likes going for long walks, just like me, to which I had replied that perhaps we should go for a walk together some time in the near future.
Well, it just so happened that Raza came visiting friends in Delhi and also invited me to accompany him and some of his other local friends on a long walk. It was the eve of Urdu poet Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib's birth anniversary and a candle-light march was being organised to mark the occasion.
Earlier, Raza and I had exchanged mobile telephone numbers through email and, subsequently, traded text messages, as well as having spoken to each other to explore the possibility of arranging a meeting.
It was really good when we met, even though I eventually decided not to accompany him for the march, since it appeared that it could mean that I would have to ride my motorbike over the 30 odd kilometres from his host's house to my own rather late at night, which would have meant cold weather and traffic constituted mainly by heavily-laden trucks.
As we spoke to each other in our common mother tongue i.e. Punjabi, we discovered that both of us had maternal grandfathers who had migrated from across the border in 1947. His had been a businessman in Amritsar and mine a medical practitioner in Rawalpindi, before partition.
He was also able to satisfy my curiosity, to a certain extent, regarding the status of the Punjabi language in Pakistan as well as some of the 'Islamisation' that has taken place in the country, over the past few years. For instance, the holy month of Ramzan is now known as Ramadan over there and people say Allah Haafiz to bid farewell, instead of Khuda Haafiz. These changes, he explained, had come about while General Zia-ul-Haq was at the helm of affairs of the Islamic Republic.
There was, however, a very strange co-incidence related to our meeting that is likely to remain well-entrenched in my mind for a long time. When Raza had called me to provide the name and address of his host, his voice had been somewhat garbled, probably on account of network congestion or fluctuation in the strength of the mobile telephone's signal. So, I heard the last name of his host as Benazir and wrote it down as such on the piece of paper on which I had noted down the address.
Later on, after I had learnt that the actual name was different, I struck out the name Benazir with the same pencil that I had used to write it down. Within twenty-four hours of that event, I was watching television coverage related to former Pakistani premier Benazir Bhutto's assassination! The piece of paper lies on my table even as I write this.
Well, it just so happened that Raza came visiting friends in Delhi and also invited me to accompany him and some of his other local friends on a long walk. It was the eve of Urdu poet Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib's birth anniversary and a candle-light march was being organised to mark the occasion.
Earlier, Raza and I had exchanged mobile telephone numbers through email and, subsequently, traded text messages, as well as having spoken to each other to explore the possibility of arranging a meeting.
It was really good when we met, even though I eventually decided not to accompany him for the march, since it appeared that it could mean that I would have to ride my motorbike over the 30 odd kilometres from his host's house to my own rather late at night, which would have meant cold weather and traffic constituted mainly by heavily-laden trucks.
As we spoke to each other in our common mother tongue i.e. Punjabi, we discovered that both of us had maternal grandfathers who had migrated from across the border in 1947. His had been a businessman in Amritsar and mine a medical practitioner in Rawalpindi, before partition.
He was also able to satisfy my curiosity, to a certain extent, regarding the status of the Punjabi language in Pakistan as well as some of the 'Islamisation' that has taken place in the country, over the past few years. For instance, the holy month of Ramzan is now known as Ramadan over there and people say Allah Haafiz to bid farewell, instead of Khuda Haafiz. These changes, he explained, had come about while General Zia-ul-Haq was at the helm of affairs of the Islamic Republic.
There was, however, a very strange co-incidence related to our meeting that is likely to remain well-entrenched in my mind for a long time. When Raza had called me to provide the name and address of his host, his voice had been somewhat garbled, probably on account of network congestion or fluctuation in the strength of the mobile telephone's signal. So, I heard the last name of his host as Benazir and wrote it down as such on the piece of paper on which I had noted down the address.
Later on, after I had learnt that the actual name was different, I struck out the name Benazir with the same pencil that I had used to write it down. Within twenty-four hours of that event, I was watching television coverage related to former Pakistani premier Benazir Bhutto's assassination! The piece of paper lies on my table even as I write this.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Southwards bound: Sidhusaaheb and the Sea
All my life, I have been reading in books about the 'blue sea'. When I was much younger and at school, I was told to use light blue crayons to colour rivers in my drawing-book or the space occupied by the various oceans in a map of the world that was blank, except for the outlines of all the continents.
In reality, all the rivers that I have seen have either been a dark shade of green or a dull shade of grey. So, I was really excited when I travelled to Goa in July this year, with the family. This, after all, was the first time that I was going to see the sea, so to say.
It was early morning when the train rolled into Goan precincts. Besides the lush, green countryside, there were the lovely villas that caught my attention, from amongst all that rushed past the window. I did not really expect to catch a glimpse of the sea until after we reached our destination. Soon, however, beyond a line of coconut trees on the shore, a vast expanse of water, which was a pale shade of grey, came into view. Stretching away into the distance, as far as the eye could see, it merged into the horizon.
Over the next two days, the sea was a constant presence, as we drove across the place. Towards the end of the first, we went on to a jetty and surf definitely was up, sending repeated bursts of spray to considerable heights. The next day was reserved for visiting South Goa and, hence, the beaches.
On the first one that we went to, no one was actually allowed to go down to the water's edge and we had to satisfy ourselves with a walk along an elevated road spanning the length of the beach. There was a nice vantage point though, which appeared to have been built during colonial times and had a distinct old-world feel to it. It was a treat to watch wave after wave come crashing down against the rocks, sending fine water-droplets up to where we stood. My brother, who had been busy taking photographs until a few minutes earlier, had to return his camera to its water-proof case.
On the second one, there were huge boulders along the edge of the water that we were able to climb down to and, therefore, enjoy quite a close encounter. On the third, we were actually atop a cliff from where we were able to watch the waves forming in the distance and then travelling, in quick succession, to the shore.
It was the fourth one that was actually like the way I had thought a beach was supposed to be. The photograph posted above shows me standing there, mesmerised. It was taken a few moments before the sea actually greeted me with, well, a cold embrace! After that I had to roll up the wet bottoms of my trousers and also to take off my sandals, which had become uncomfortable because of the accumulation of wet sand. It was meant to be a lesson in beach-etiquette, perhaps, for a novice like me.
At Cochin, where we proceeded to from Goa, it was, once again, a walk along a paved path, which was separated from the water by rocks of all shapes and sizes.
Subsequently, we went to a beach in Madras, as well, during the last leg of our journey, but, besides the hot and humid weather, that experience was caused to be less than pleasant for me by the stench from the various stalls selling fish.
The sea at these places, too, appeared to be a pale shade of grey.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Seven Random Facts about Myself
This time, the tag requires me to write down seven random facts about myself, which are as follows:
1. I love animals. If I knew how, I would like to make friends with almost every single animal in the world (Disclaimer: This does not apply to humans!). This is despite the odd mishap that can and does happen every now and then, like the disagreement I had with my maternal grandfather's dog and which led to his holding one of my ankles between his teeth and, ultimately, letting me off with a little scratch rather than a bite or when a very sick little puppy bit me on my left hand, when I tried to disengage him from my shoe-laces, subsequent to which I had to be administered the anti-rabies shots since the poor little one had died soon after having bitten me (I suppose this should be publicised in the animal world's news media, so that they all know how lethal biting me can prove to be. I still feel bad for the puppy though, even as I shall always remember him by the crescent-shaped scar that he gave me).
2. I often tend to hold on to junk. Whether it be my rusty old bicycle, or my old mobile telephone handset that is now inoperational, I can not seem to throw anything away. Sometimes my mother disposes off stuff in my absence, only to have me question her about it later and go all over the memories associated with it.
3. I love automobiles. Although the only one I own at the moment is a small motorcycle (135cc, 12bhp, 2-stroke, 4-speed manual transmission) and do not know if I ever will have the money to buy another, I would, if I had all the money in the world, buy lots and lots of contemporary as well as vintage sports-cars, 4x4s (SUVs, MUVs), luxury saloons, street bikes, trail bikes, trail-cum-street bikes, and cruisers, among others. I have not yet learnt to fly, or else the list would include aircraft as well. For the present, however, I make do with reading as much as I can about automobiles, besides watching television programmes on the subject.
4. Of late, I can not seem to read any book through to the end. It is strange that I could not seem to put a book down until I had read it from cover to cover even when I did not have sufficient time, earlier, and now, even if I have all the time in the world, I tend to give up half-way. In fact, I can not seem to read anything longer than a magazine article any more.
5. I used to watch movies almost indiscriminately, though I think I have become more discerning now. One day, just for a lark, I started listing out the movies that I had watched during the two years that I spent at Indore, while studying for my post-graduate degree and the number came to about 175. I suppose I must have forgotten a few names or else the number should have definitely crossed 200. More recently, I have finished watching all of the movies associated with the James Bond marquee and the Star Wars series. There are so many more to watch, like the Godfather series, for instance. May God bless 24-hour television movie channels!
6. I like going for long walks. That is besides the evening stroll, of course! I think walking is a great way to explore a place and to be able to absorb its sights and sounds. So, as far as I can, I walk instead of hitching a ride on a vehicle, especially if the distance is not too long to be covered in that manner. I was fortunate enough to be able to go trekking, as well, in the forested areas of the states of Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra, during my stay at Indore, though I have not really been able to pursue that hobby ever since.
7. I like to travel. If I were to suddenly receive a huge fortune from somewhere, I suppose that the first thing I would do would be to embark on a world tour. If not, however, budget-travel to affordable destinations is the name of the game, besides trips sponsored by family and friends.
Now, that, I suppose, should be enough narcissism for one blog-post!
1. I love animals. If I knew how, I would like to make friends with almost every single animal in the world (Disclaimer: This does not apply to humans!). This is despite the odd mishap that can and does happen every now and then, like the disagreement I had with my maternal grandfather's dog and which led to his holding one of my ankles between his teeth and, ultimately, letting me off with a little scratch rather than a bite or when a very sick little puppy bit me on my left hand, when I tried to disengage him from my shoe-laces, subsequent to which I had to be administered the anti-rabies shots since the poor little one had died soon after having bitten me (I suppose this should be publicised in the animal world's news media, so that they all know how lethal biting me can prove to be. I still feel bad for the puppy though, even as I shall always remember him by the crescent-shaped scar that he gave me).
2. I often tend to hold on to junk. Whether it be my rusty old bicycle, or my old mobile telephone handset that is now inoperational, I can not seem to throw anything away. Sometimes my mother disposes off stuff in my absence, only to have me question her about it later and go all over the memories associated with it.
3. I love automobiles. Although the only one I own at the moment is a small motorcycle (135cc, 12bhp, 2-stroke, 4-speed manual transmission) and do not know if I ever will have the money to buy another, I would, if I had all the money in the world, buy lots and lots of contemporary as well as vintage sports-cars, 4x4s (SUVs, MUVs), luxury saloons, street bikes, trail bikes, trail-cum-street bikes, and cruisers, among others. I have not yet learnt to fly, or else the list would include aircraft as well. For the present, however, I make do with reading as much as I can about automobiles, besides watching television programmes on the subject.
4. Of late, I can not seem to read any book through to the end. It is strange that I could not seem to put a book down until I had read it from cover to cover even when I did not have sufficient time, earlier, and now, even if I have all the time in the world, I tend to give up half-way. In fact, I can not seem to read anything longer than a magazine article any more.
5. I used to watch movies almost indiscriminately, though I think I have become more discerning now. One day, just for a lark, I started listing out the movies that I had watched during the two years that I spent at Indore, while studying for my post-graduate degree and the number came to about 175. I suppose I must have forgotten a few names or else the number should have definitely crossed 200. More recently, I have finished watching all of the movies associated with the James Bond marquee and the Star Wars series. There are so many more to watch, like the Godfather series, for instance. May God bless 24-hour television movie channels!
6. I like going for long walks. That is besides the evening stroll, of course! I think walking is a great way to explore a place and to be able to absorb its sights and sounds. So, as far as I can, I walk instead of hitching a ride on a vehicle, especially if the distance is not too long to be covered in that manner. I was fortunate enough to be able to go trekking, as well, in the forested areas of the states of Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra, during my stay at Indore, though I have not really been able to pursue that hobby ever since.
7. I like to travel. If I were to suddenly receive a huge fortune from somewhere, I suppose that the first thing I would do would be to embark on a world tour. If not, however, budget-travel to affordable destinations is the name of the game, besides trips sponsored by family and friends.
Now, that, I suppose, should be enough narcissism for one blog-post!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Southwards bound: The Chosen One
We were at the villa at Loutolim, where our guide, Mrs. Pinto, had gathered all her charges around herself, at the gate. As she continued her monologue about the history of the place, some of us listened intently, while others, including my brother and I, took pictures.
Subsequently, as we walked into the premises, along the path that led from the gate to the porch, there sat, on the grass that had been planted alongside, a kitten. It was pure white in colour, interspersed with patches of black. Even as my brother and I tried to attract its attention, it continued to nibble on something and appeared quite content doing that. So, we walked on.
Later, while we were inside the house, we found the same little one sitting in a corner and purring softly. My brother whistled and I snapped my fingers, as each of us knelt down on one knee, on the wooden floor, to try and attract its attention.
It got up and started walking slowly towards us. It stopped in front of my brother first, sniffed a bit at him, looked at his face and then walked on to me. The process was repeated as it sniffed at my feet, followed by my knee. Then, quite inexplicably, it climbed on to my knee!
After surveying the surroundings for a while, it settled down quite comfortably there, as I stroked its head and back very gently. It stayed put, even as the other visitors walked by, some of whom stopped to take a good look. Soon, my parents called out to me and I put the kitten down. It scampered away, to go and hide under a table, as if really scared of the rest of the people around.
When I narrated the sequence of events to my parents, afterwards, they said that I could have brought the kitten along and it could have lived with us. The memory of having lost Tinkoo was too fresh in my mind, however, and I was not sure that I could take on the responsibility of another innocent creature.
The memory is always going to remain with me though, even as I, or any one else, as for that matter, might never be able to come up with a credible explanation of the reasons for which the kitten chose to make friends with me. I wonder if it had anything to do with a certain kind of smell that might have begun to emanate from the pair of jeans that I was wearing and which I had not changed since leaving home!
The following photograph was taken by my brother soon after the young one had hopped on to my knee. I would have liked him to take another one, after it sat down, but he had wandered off by then.
Subsequently, as we walked into the premises, along the path that led from the gate to the porch, there sat, on the grass that had been planted alongside, a kitten. It was pure white in colour, interspersed with patches of black. Even as my brother and I tried to attract its attention, it continued to nibble on something and appeared quite content doing that. So, we walked on.
Later, while we were inside the house, we found the same little one sitting in a corner and purring softly. My brother whistled and I snapped my fingers, as each of us knelt down on one knee, on the wooden floor, to try and attract its attention.
It got up and started walking slowly towards us. It stopped in front of my brother first, sniffed a bit at him, looked at his face and then walked on to me. The process was repeated as it sniffed at my feet, followed by my knee. Then, quite inexplicably, it climbed on to my knee!
After surveying the surroundings for a while, it settled down quite comfortably there, as I stroked its head and back very gently. It stayed put, even as the other visitors walked by, some of whom stopped to take a good look. Soon, my parents called out to me and I put the kitten down. It scampered away, to go and hide under a table, as if really scared of the rest of the people around.
When I narrated the sequence of events to my parents, afterwards, they said that I could have brought the kitten along and it could have lived with us. The memory of having lost Tinkoo was too fresh in my mind, however, and I was not sure that I could take on the responsibility of another innocent creature.
The memory is always going to remain with me though, even as I, or any one else, as for that matter, might never be able to come up with a credible explanation of the reasons for which the kitten chose to make friends with me. I wonder if it had anything to do with a certain kind of smell that might have begun to emanate from the pair of jeans that I was wearing and which I had not changed since leaving home!
The following photograph was taken by my brother soon after the young one had hopped on to my knee. I would have liked him to take another one, after it sat down, but he had wandered off by then.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Saanjha Virsa PunjabiaaN Da (The Shared Heritage of Punjabis) - II
The Advanced Centre for Technical Development of Punjabi language, Literature and Culture of the Punjabi University, Patiala, has released two utilities, one of which is meant for transliteration from the Gurmukhi script to the Shahmukhi script, while the other is meant for transliteration from Shahmukhi to Gurmukhi.
The latter is still in the beta stage of development, however.
For the uninitiated, the Punjabi language is mostly written in the Gurmukhi script, in the Indian part of Punjab, whereas, the Shahmukhi script is mainly used for that purpose in the Pakistani part of Punjab.
The latter is still in the beta stage of development, however.
For the uninitiated, the Punjabi language is mostly written in the Gurmukhi script, in the Indian part of Punjab, whereas, the Shahmukhi script is mainly used for that purpose in the Pakistani part of Punjab.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Yet another tag...
I have been tagged yet again. So, let us get down to business, without much ado.
Here we go:
1. Name one person that made you laugh last night?
General Pervez Musharraf. He told me "a joke of the highest order"!
2. What are you doing at 8:00am, generally?
Usually, I am fast asleep, or, at least, that is the way it has been for the past year and a half or so.
3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
I was reading the newspaper, while sipping from a mug of hot milk.
4. What happened to you in 2006?
A lot of things, including unemployment.
5. What was the last thing you said out loud?
The lyrics of a Hindi movie song, while there was no one at home.
6. How many beverages did you have today?
None. I do not consume any beverages, including tea and coffee, on a regular basis and do not consume alchohol at all.
7. What color is your hairbrush?
Black.
8. What was the last thing you paid for?
I paid for petrol, for my motorcycle.
9. Where were you last night?
I was at home.
10. What color is your front door?
White.
(11 is missing from original list)
12. What is the weather like today?
It is bright and sunny.
13. What is the best ice-cream flavour?
Vanilla, with hot chocolate sauce.
14. What excites you?
Different things, at different points of time...
15. Do you want to cut your hair?
No, I am a practising Sikh and intend to remain that way.
16. Are you over the age of 25?
Yes. I am 32, to be precise.
17. Do you talk a lot?
I do, but only with a few people. Most of those who have come across me, know me as an introvert.
18. Do you watch the O.C.?
I have no idea as to what that might be.
19. Do you know anyone named Steven?
Well, not personally...
20. Do you make up your own words?
Not too often...
21. Are you a jealous person?
I used to be.
22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’:
Asma
23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’:
Kunal
24. Who is the first person on your received call list?
My cousin.
25. What does the last text message you received say?
It says something about passing the message on to ten people or being unlucky for a long time to come.
26. Do you chew on your straw?
No, I do not.
27. Do you have curly hair?
No, I do not.
28. Where is the next place you are going to?
I have no idea.
29. Who is the rudest person in your life?
I suppose that would have to be me (and, no, I do not mean to copy the answer of the one who tagged me!).
30. What was the last thing you ate?
Daal (Lentil-soup) and Roti (Chapatti).
31. Will you get married in the future?
I do not know. I have been unmarried so far.
32. Which is the best movie you have seen in the past 2 weeks?
Mission Impossible III
(33. missing too)
34. When was the last time you did the dishes?
It was a few months ago.
35. Are you currently depressed?
No.
36. Did you cry today?
No.
Here we go:
1. Name one person that made you laugh last night?
General Pervez Musharraf. He told me "a joke of the highest order"!
2. What are you doing at 8:00am, generally?
Usually, I am fast asleep, or, at least, that is the way it has been for the past year and a half or so.
3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
I was reading the newspaper, while sipping from a mug of hot milk.
4. What happened to you in 2006?
A lot of things, including unemployment.
5. What was the last thing you said out loud?
The lyrics of a Hindi movie song, while there was no one at home.
6. How many beverages did you have today?
None. I do not consume any beverages, including tea and coffee, on a regular basis and do not consume alchohol at all.
7. What color is your hairbrush?
Black.
8. What was the last thing you paid for?
I paid for petrol, for my motorcycle.
9. Where were you last night?
I was at home.
10. What color is your front door?
White.
(11 is missing from original list)
12. What is the weather like today?
It is bright and sunny.
13. What is the best ice-cream flavour?
Vanilla, with hot chocolate sauce.
14. What excites you?
Different things, at different points of time...
15. Do you want to cut your hair?
No, I am a practising Sikh and intend to remain that way.
16. Are you over the age of 25?
Yes. I am 32, to be precise.
17. Do you talk a lot?
I do, but only with a few people. Most of those who have come across me, know me as an introvert.
18. Do you watch the O.C.?
I have no idea as to what that might be.
19. Do you know anyone named Steven?
Well, not personally...
20. Do you make up your own words?
Not too often...
21. Are you a jealous person?
I used to be.
22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’:
Asma
23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’:
Kunal
24. Who is the first person on your received call list?
My cousin.
25. What does the last text message you received say?
It says something about passing the message on to ten people or being unlucky for a long time to come.
26. Do you chew on your straw?
No, I do not.
27. Do you have curly hair?
No, I do not.
28. Where is the next place you are going to?
I have no idea.
29. Who is the rudest person in your life?
I suppose that would have to be me (and, no, I do not mean to copy the answer of the one who tagged me!).
30. What was the last thing you ate?
Daal (Lentil-soup) and Roti (Chapatti).
31. Will you get married in the future?
I do not know. I have been unmarried so far.
32. Which is the best movie you have seen in the past 2 weeks?
Mission Impossible III
(33. missing too)
34. When was the last time you did the dishes?
It was a few months ago.
35. Are you currently depressed?
No.
36. Did you cry today?
No.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Southwards bound: Goan architecture
I had heard and read that Goa has a number of beautiful churches dating back to the colonial era, when the state and some of its surrounding areas were ruled by the Portuguese. I found this to be true when my family and I took a conducted tour of North Goa. The best in terms of architectural splendour, perhaps, is the Basilica of Bom Jesus or the Chapel of St. Francis Xavier.
However, a fact that I had not known of before and one that I realised almost as soon as the train entered Goan territory was that among the most beautiful specimens of architecture, which is nearly ubiquitous in the state, is the Goan villa. Besides the sloping, khaprail (tiles made of clay) roofs, my attention was caught by the ornate glass doors and windows that had designs that were distinctly European (as can be seen in the photograph posted above, which was taken by my brother) and unlike any I had seen elsewhere in India, even in colonial-era buildings. Apparently, the British style of construction in India was much at variance with that of the Portuguese.
The hotel that we stayed in, was located at Panjim. I was glad to find out that several villas there, each of which must have been more than a hundred years old, were still inhabited by descendants of the original owners. Many of them, however, had carried out renovations that included replacement of the original doors and windows with those of the bland, contemporary type. I do wish that this could have been avoided and the houses maitained in pristine state.
One such structure in Loutolim, however, has been preserved for more than 200 years and is open to visitors, in return for a small fee. The place is owned by the sixth generation of the man who built it. Even as they no longer live there, the place is well-maintained and still has the original furniture and fittings. Without the help of the guide that we hired, it might actually have been difficult to understand the utility of several items in the house.
Additionally, pieces of old construction that attracted my attention in Panjim included quaint benches built into the walls along the boundaries of parks and even on some bridges across little streams flowing through the town, besides pieces of sculpture that appeared to be made of porcelain and were part of the fountains in the parks.
Even as I come to know, every now and then, about politicians selling off pieces of Goan land to land-sharks, I do hope very fervently that the immensely valuable Goan architectural heritage shall continue to be preserved for posterity.
However, a fact that I had not known of before and one that I realised almost as soon as the train entered Goan territory was that among the most beautiful specimens of architecture, which is nearly ubiquitous in the state, is the Goan villa. Besides the sloping, khaprail (tiles made of clay) roofs, my attention was caught by the ornate glass doors and windows that had designs that were distinctly European (as can be seen in the photograph posted above, which was taken by my brother) and unlike any I had seen elsewhere in India, even in colonial-era buildings. Apparently, the British style of construction in India was much at variance with that of the Portuguese.
The hotel that we stayed in, was located at Panjim. I was glad to find out that several villas there, each of which must have been more than a hundred years old, were still inhabited by descendants of the original owners. Many of them, however, had carried out renovations that included replacement of the original doors and windows with those of the bland, contemporary type. I do wish that this could have been avoided and the houses maitained in pristine state.
One such structure in Loutolim, however, has been preserved for more than 200 years and is open to visitors, in return for a small fee. The place is owned by the sixth generation of the man who built it. Even as they no longer live there, the place is well-maintained and still has the original furniture and fittings. Without the help of the guide that we hired, it might actually have been difficult to understand the utility of several items in the house.
Additionally, pieces of old construction that attracted my attention in Panjim included quaint benches built into the walls along the boundaries of parks and even on some bridges across little streams flowing through the town, besides pieces of sculpture that appeared to be made of porcelain and were part of the fountains in the parks.
Even as I come to know, every now and then, about politicians selling off pieces of Goan land to land-sharks, I do hope very fervently that the immensely valuable Goan architectural heritage shall continue to be preserved for posterity.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Quattro
No, this is not about the car.
Actually, I have been tagged again.
So, here goes:
Four jobs I have had in my life -
Actually, I have been tagged again.
So, here goes:
Four jobs I have had in my life -
- Internet Researcher
- Human Resources Executive
- Recruiter
- Research Editor
- Mr. Bean on Pogo
- Click on BBC World
- Top Gear on BBC World
- The Car and Bike Show on NDTV 24x7
- Anand
- Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi
- Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines
- The Shawshank Redemption
- Hardwar
- Chandigarh
- Indore
- National Capital Region of India
- Kathmandu
- Goa
- Ooty
- Mysore
- Anything that my mother cooks
- Anything that my mother cooks
- Anything that my mother cooks
- Anything that my mother cooks
- Gmail.Com
- Google.Com
- Statcounter.Com
- Technorati.Com
- My ancestral village (in district Bathinda, Punjab)
- Goa
- Simla
- Kasauli
Friday, October 12, 2007
A legend is reborn!
The fastest production motorcycle in the world at one point of time, the Hayabusa had since been overtaken by Kawasaki's ZX-14. The 2008 Suzuki Hayabusa appears all set to reclaim that position, with an increase of 41 cubic centimetres in engine capacity and an additional 20 horses, in terms of power. Incidentally, this is the first major revision of the bike, since its launch in 1999.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Calcutta and I
As mentioned in a previous post, I was in Calcutta for a very brief period of time.
The first thing I noticed about the city was that the roads were not too good, at least when compared to those in the other state-capitals that I have been to in India, including New Delhi, Chandigarh, Dehradun, Bhopal, Hyderabad, Bangalore, Madras and Goa. Another vital difference that I noticed, as against Delhi's roads, was that there were no stray cattle on the roads of Calcutta, even as there were plenty of stray dogs around.
I found the city to be much more verdant, though, than Delhi, with a lot of plants and shady trees along the roads. It also means that a number of birds live in these trees and, therefore, one has to be careful while passing under the branches. I was at the receiving end of the birds' beneficence on at least two occasions, even as they failed to score direct hits at other times.
As compared to some other places in India that I have been to, like Chennai, for instance, where I did not understand the local language, I had little problem communicating with the local people in Calcutta, as most of them understood either Hindi or English or both.
I did not have the opportunity to sample much of the food available there, except aaloo-paraathhas, which were unlike any that I had tasted before. Not only were these made of maida, instead of the whole wheat-flour paraathhas that I am used to, but also appeared to have been baked instead of being cooked on a tawaa (hot plate).
Having spent the first day, out of the two that I spent in the city, at office, I found some time for sight-seeing on the second.
As I set off, on foot, to find a cyber-cafe, so that I could access my email and get a print-out of the e-ticket for flying back to Delhi, I came across a set of tracks in the middle of the road, on the bare patch of land bifurcating the dual carriageway. Soon, a tram came rumbling across the tracks. It had wooden benches for the passengers and no window panes at all. The driver and conductor wore khaki safari-suits. What I found amusing, however, was that not only did the tram stop at the traffic-signal, when the light turned red, but also when some vehicle or the other made an illegal U-turn across the median, unlike anything else moving on two parallel steel rails that I had seen before!
Later, it was time to experience railborne transport first-hand, as I rode the Calcutta Metro from the Rabindra Sarobar station, near Tollygunj, to the one at Park Street crossing. "Chhoy takaa (six rupees)", said the man behind the counter, when I enquired about the cost of the ticket. That was the only time, as far as I recall, that any one replied in Bengali to a question posed in Hindi, while I was at Calcutta. This could have something to do with the fact that he was a guard employed by a private security firm, acting as a substitute for regular personnel on account of some reason or the other, and may have migrated to the city from one of its surrounding areas. On the whole, however, I found the service to be economical and efficient, with the trains arriving and departing on time. It, indeed, was a pleasure travelling on the underground, rapid mass-transit system!
Then, I walked on to the Indian Museum, located quite close to the Metro station at Park Street. I spent nearly three hours there and would have been glad to spend another three, if I could. The museum is housed in a white, colonial-era building, which is breath-takingly beautiful.
Among the exhibits, those related to natural history were the ones that I found the most interesting. Arguably, the museum has the largest collection of such items in India. The ones related to fauna include fossils, bones and entire skeletons, in addition to dead animals, preserved and mounted for display. The fossils and bones originate from different parts of India, as well as from what is now Pakistan and other parts of the sub-continent that once formed a part of the British empire. What I learnt from looking at these was that animals of yore, obviously, beleived in the slogan, "Live life king-size!". Judging from the enormity of the remains, it was clear that the animals must have been many times larger than their present-day descendants. Afterwards, when I discussed this with my father, he surmised that this must have been because of the easy availability of food and lack of competition for it, during the times that these creatures roamed the earth.
Some of the species, I noticed, have Latin names that have been derived from local nomenclature. For instance, crocodiles found mainly in the Ganges river system and known locally as Gharial, have been collectively named as Gharialis Gangeticus.
I appreciated the gallery with a large number of dead animals, stuffed and mounted by taxidermists, as it provided me with an opportunity to take a close look at several rare and exotic specimens. This might have been difficult to achieve otherwise, even in a zoo. Besides, no living animal had to be confined to an enclosure, in this case.
The collection of antique microscopes on display that were once used by the Geological Survey of India, also interested me quite a bit.
There are, of course, a number of places in the city, incuding the Victoria Memorial, Esplanade and the Howrah Bridge, which are of interest from a tourist's point of view, that I did not have the time to visit. God willing, I shall definitely see all of these, if I happen to be in Calcutta again, at any point of time in the future.
The first thing I noticed about the city was that the roads were not too good, at least when compared to those in the other state-capitals that I have been to in India, including New Delhi, Chandigarh, Dehradun, Bhopal, Hyderabad, Bangalore, Madras and Goa. Another vital difference that I noticed, as against Delhi's roads, was that there were no stray cattle on the roads of Calcutta, even as there were plenty of stray dogs around.
I found the city to be much more verdant, though, than Delhi, with a lot of plants and shady trees along the roads. It also means that a number of birds live in these trees and, therefore, one has to be careful while passing under the branches. I was at the receiving end of the birds' beneficence on at least two occasions, even as they failed to score direct hits at other times.
As compared to some other places in India that I have been to, like Chennai, for instance, where I did not understand the local language, I had little problem communicating with the local people in Calcutta, as most of them understood either Hindi or English or both.
I did not have the opportunity to sample much of the food available there, except aaloo-paraathhas, which were unlike any that I had tasted before. Not only were these made of maida, instead of the whole wheat-flour paraathhas that I am used to, but also appeared to have been baked instead of being cooked on a tawaa (hot plate).
Having spent the first day, out of the two that I spent in the city, at office, I found some time for sight-seeing on the second.
As I set off, on foot, to find a cyber-cafe, so that I could access my email and get a print-out of the e-ticket for flying back to Delhi, I came across a set of tracks in the middle of the road, on the bare patch of land bifurcating the dual carriageway. Soon, a tram came rumbling across the tracks. It had wooden benches for the passengers and no window panes at all. The driver and conductor wore khaki safari-suits. What I found amusing, however, was that not only did the tram stop at the traffic-signal, when the light turned red, but also when some vehicle or the other made an illegal U-turn across the median, unlike anything else moving on two parallel steel rails that I had seen before!
Later, it was time to experience railborne transport first-hand, as I rode the Calcutta Metro from the Rabindra Sarobar station, near Tollygunj, to the one at Park Street crossing. "Chhoy takaa (six rupees)", said the man behind the counter, when I enquired about the cost of the ticket. That was the only time, as far as I recall, that any one replied in Bengali to a question posed in Hindi, while I was at Calcutta. This could have something to do with the fact that he was a guard employed by a private security firm, acting as a substitute for regular personnel on account of some reason or the other, and may have migrated to the city from one of its surrounding areas. On the whole, however, I found the service to be economical and efficient, with the trains arriving and departing on time. It, indeed, was a pleasure travelling on the underground, rapid mass-transit system!
Then, I walked on to the Indian Museum, located quite close to the Metro station at Park Street. I spent nearly three hours there and would have been glad to spend another three, if I could. The museum is housed in a white, colonial-era building, which is breath-takingly beautiful.
Among the exhibits, those related to natural history were the ones that I found the most interesting. Arguably, the museum has the largest collection of such items in India. The ones related to fauna include fossils, bones and entire skeletons, in addition to dead animals, preserved and mounted for display. The fossils and bones originate from different parts of India, as well as from what is now Pakistan and other parts of the sub-continent that once formed a part of the British empire. What I learnt from looking at these was that animals of yore, obviously, beleived in the slogan, "Live life king-size!". Judging from the enormity of the remains, it was clear that the animals must have been many times larger than their present-day descendants. Afterwards, when I discussed this with my father, he surmised that this must have been because of the easy availability of food and lack of competition for it, during the times that these creatures roamed the earth.
Some of the species, I noticed, have Latin names that have been derived from local nomenclature. For instance, crocodiles found mainly in the Ganges river system and known locally as Gharial, have been collectively named as Gharialis Gangeticus.
I appreciated the gallery with a large number of dead animals, stuffed and mounted by taxidermists, as it provided me with an opportunity to take a close look at several rare and exotic specimens. This might have been difficult to achieve otherwise, even in a zoo. Besides, no living animal had to be confined to an enclosure, in this case.
The collection of antique microscopes on display that were once used by the Geological Survey of India, also interested me quite a bit.
There are, of course, a number of places in the city, incuding the Victoria Memorial, Esplanade and the Howrah Bridge, which are of interest from a tourist's point of view, that I did not have the time to visit. God willing, I shall definitely see all of these, if I happen to be in Calcutta again, at any point of time in the future.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
A Gift for My Pakistani Friends
For the benefit of those of my readers who live in Pakistan or other countries where certain blogging websites are inaccessible, I have decided to make available, at Wordpress.Com, a duplicate copy of my blog at Blogger.Com. Henceforth, I shall continue to post simultaneously at both web-addresses.
Thanks Asma, for giving me this idea!
Thanks Asma, for giving me this idea!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Of Human Bondage
A little more than two weeks ago, I received a telephone call from a Calcutta-based dot-com company. Apparently, the recruiter had seen my resume online and wanted to discuss a vacant position. A couple of tele-conversations and about as many days later, he seemed to have decided to hire me and sent a job-offer through email, which I accepted as the money being offered was not too bad. Besides, I was rather excited at the prospect of going to work in a city I had never been to before and even purchased some new clothes for myself.
I agreed to join on September 17 and was on a Calcutta-bound flight on the morning of that day. After landing there at about 7:00 a.m., I took a pre-paid taxi to the guest-house, where the company had booked a room for me, the bill for which I was supposed to pay on my own. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to the fact that the company offered to reimburse the expenses that I would incur on relocation, only 60 days after I joined service.
After dropping my luggage off at the guest-house, I went to the office. The first thing that struck me, upon arriving there, was that the office was located in a residential area and there were not even any signboards, to announce its presence. Once I had gone inside, I was welcomed by one of the ladies I had interacted with earlier, on account of completion of some formalities. She introduced me to another man who was to join the same day, as a graphic designer, and then, to the trainer who was to conduct the induction/orientation programme for the two of us. The trainer told us a little about the company and its business, besides making us aware of the online locations, on the company's intranet, of various policies and procedures. For a while, it actually felt like I was welcome in the organisation.
Soon, however, the atmosphere began to change, at least for me. While going through the company's policies, I came across one, according to which, I was to agree that I would withdraw my resume from any job-sites, where I might have posted it and that I would be liable to be dismissed from the company's employment if my resume was found posted at any such website, at any point of time in the future. There was another, according to which, if I were to quit within the period of probation, I would not be paid at all for the last month that I worked. I found these conditions to be very unfair, if not draconian.
A little later, I was summoned to see the senior recruiter who had hired me. He said that he hoped that whatever I had written in my resume and had told him earlier was true. This was quite surprising for me, as I would have expected him to have confirmed that before offering me a job. Then, he told me that I would soon have to see the 'big boss', who would give me some kind of an assignment.
When I asked him to suggest an alternative for the room at the guest-house, as it was rather too expensive, he said that it would be clear within a few days whether I would have to look for another place to stay at, at all. It, therefore, became clear that the company had given me an offer of employment without having completed the process of selection!
When I met the 'big boss', he told me, at first, to gather as much information as I could about the company, from its website and when I had finished with that, gave me a few requirements to work on. When he asked me how I planned to go about getting the work done, I asked him for access to the resume-databases of any of the job-portals that the company subscribed to (The company had sourced my resume, too, through such a database.). This appeared to have upset him a little, as he said that he wished I could find him resumes of suitable candidates for free, through personal contacts and references. It left me wondering about the reasons for which the company subscribed to the resume databases. In any case, he agreed to let one of his subordinates supply me with the necessary details i.e. the user-names and passwords. He also said that his company wished to employ those who had relevant knowledge of and experience of working on 'open-source technologies' and not 'Microsoft technologies', against the requirements that I was supposed to work on.
By evening, I was able to find five relevant resumes, out of all that I went through. Two of these were against one requirement and the rest against the other. I was asked to print these out and show these to the 'big boss' (He had obviously not heard of the concept of 'paperless office' or, if he had, had no intention to prevent deforestation by using less paper.). He said that he found two of the resumes, one against each requirement, to be good. However, he also declared that I had made a 'serious mistake' by short-listing the other three. The reason, according to him, was that the prospective candidates had worked on 'Microsoft technologies'. The fact that they also had relevant knowledge of and the requisite work-experience on the 'open-source technologies' that he and his company were looking for, did not seem to be of any importance to him. He then proceeded to make several derogatory remarks about my capabilities as a recruiter, even as I tried to explain to him that all five of the resumes belonged to people with relevant knowledge, skills and experience. Finally, when he could not seem to proffer a logical argument, he resorted to the farcical one that he did not wish to employ those who had worked with both kinds of software tools and techniques as he believed that they were 'a confused lot'!
That was the proverbial last straw, as far as I was concerned. It had not only become obvious to me that the company was unsure about whether it wished to employ me for an extended period of time, but I also feared that it might fail to pay the amount of money due to me, if I were to be asked to leave its employment within a few days. So, I decided to cut my losses and run.
As soon as I was out of the office, I telephoned my father to make the situation clear to him and then, my brother, to ask him to book an air-ticket for me, for the next evening, so that I could fly back to Delhi.
My father was waiting to pick me up at the Indira Gandhi Airport when I landed there and we reached home at about 1:30 a.m. on September 19.
I have been trying to think hard since then, but can not seem to recall if I have ever come across any organisation that can be described as an employer worse than the one I have written about here. Evidently, exploitation as a policy of management is still being practised in so-called corporate India.
I agreed to join on September 17 and was on a Calcutta-bound flight on the morning of that day. After landing there at about 7:00 a.m., I took a pre-paid taxi to the guest-house, where the company had booked a room for me, the bill for which I was supposed to pay on my own. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to the fact that the company offered to reimburse the expenses that I would incur on relocation, only 60 days after I joined service.
After dropping my luggage off at the guest-house, I went to the office. The first thing that struck me, upon arriving there, was that the office was located in a residential area and there were not even any signboards, to announce its presence. Once I had gone inside, I was welcomed by one of the ladies I had interacted with earlier, on account of completion of some formalities. She introduced me to another man who was to join the same day, as a graphic designer, and then, to the trainer who was to conduct the induction/orientation programme for the two of us. The trainer told us a little about the company and its business, besides making us aware of the online locations, on the company's intranet, of various policies and procedures. For a while, it actually felt like I was welcome in the organisation.
Soon, however, the atmosphere began to change, at least for me. While going through the company's policies, I came across one, according to which, I was to agree that I would withdraw my resume from any job-sites, where I might have posted it and that I would be liable to be dismissed from the company's employment if my resume was found posted at any such website, at any point of time in the future. There was another, according to which, if I were to quit within the period of probation, I would not be paid at all for the last month that I worked. I found these conditions to be very unfair, if not draconian.
A little later, I was summoned to see the senior recruiter who had hired me. He said that he hoped that whatever I had written in my resume and had told him earlier was true. This was quite surprising for me, as I would have expected him to have confirmed that before offering me a job. Then, he told me that I would soon have to see the 'big boss', who would give me some kind of an assignment.
When I asked him to suggest an alternative for the room at the guest-house, as it was rather too expensive, he said that it would be clear within a few days whether I would have to look for another place to stay at, at all. It, therefore, became clear that the company had given me an offer of employment without having completed the process of selection!
When I met the 'big boss', he told me, at first, to gather as much information as I could about the company, from its website and when I had finished with that, gave me a few requirements to work on. When he asked me how I planned to go about getting the work done, I asked him for access to the resume-databases of any of the job-portals that the company subscribed to (The company had sourced my resume, too, through such a database.). This appeared to have upset him a little, as he said that he wished I could find him resumes of suitable candidates for free, through personal contacts and references. It left me wondering about the reasons for which the company subscribed to the resume databases. In any case, he agreed to let one of his subordinates supply me with the necessary details i.e. the user-names and passwords. He also said that his company wished to employ those who had relevant knowledge of and experience of working on 'open-source technologies' and not 'Microsoft technologies', against the requirements that I was supposed to work on.
By evening, I was able to find five relevant resumes, out of all that I went through. Two of these were against one requirement and the rest against the other. I was asked to print these out and show these to the 'big boss' (He had obviously not heard of the concept of 'paperless office' or, if he had, had no intention to prevent deforestation by using less paper.). He said that he found two of the resumes, one against each requirement, to be good. However, he also declared that I had made a 'serious mistake' by short-listing the other three. The reason, according to him, was that the prospective candidates had worked on 'Microsoft technologies'. The fact that they also had relevant knowledge of and the requisite work-experience on the 'open-source technologies' that he and his company were looking for, did not seem to be of any importance to him. He then proceeded to make several derogatory remarks about my capabilities as a recruiter, even as I tried to explain to him that all five of the resumes belonged to people with relevant knowledge, skills and experience. Finally, when he could not seem to proffer a logical argument, he resorted to the farcical one that he did not wish to employ those who had worked with both kinds of software tools and techniques as he believed that they were 'a confused lot'!
That was the proverbial last straw, as far as I was concerned. It had not only become obvious to me that the company was unsure about whether it wished to employ me for an extended period of time, but I also feared that it might fail to pay the amount of money due to me, if I were to be asked to leave its employment within a few days. So, I decided to cut my losses and run.
As soon as I was out of the office, I telephoned my father to make the situation clear to him and then, my brother, to ask him to book an air-ticket for me, for the next evening, so that I could fly back to Delhi.
My father was waiting to pick me up at the Indira Gandhi Airport when I landed there and we reached home at about 1:30 a.m. on September 19.
I have been trying to think hard since then, but can not seem to recall if I have ever come across any organisation that can be described as an employer worse than the one I have written about here. Evidently, exploitation as a policy of management is still being practised in so-called corporate India.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Bugatti Veyron at top speed
The Top Gear team at BBC harnesses all 1001 of the horses under a Veyron's hood and takes it up to its maximum speed, on a test track in Germany.
Thank you so much, Atul, for sharing this video with me!
Friday, August 24, 2007
An Acceptance Speech
My blog has received an award and, obviously, I am greatly pleased to accept it.
If there were to be a real awards-function and I were to make an acceptance speech, I suppose it would have gone somewhat like this:
"Well...er...ahem...First of all, I would like to thank the Almighty...Then, I would like to thank my parents and teachers, who helped me learn to read and write the English language...
I would like to thank the so-called leaders of the Hindu and Muslim communities of pre-partition India, who, for the sake of building their personal fiefdoms, helped drive a wedge between the people of these two communities that ultimately led to partition of the country into two inpependent states i.e. India and Pakistan...I would, obviously, also have to thank the gullible people who followed these leaders and hated each other not only as much as their leaders wanted them to, but far beyond that...If they had not killed each other in such large numbers at the time of partition, it would have been so difficult to maintain the bitterness between the two countries for so many years that followed...I would like to thank the politicians on both sides, who realised that they could deflect peoples' attention away from their own failings, by attributing a lot of what was wrong with their respective countries, to 'the foreign hand'...Of course, they were also very ably assisted in their endeavours by the respective intelligence agencies that helped them foment trouble in each others' countries...In fact, such agencies are doing this, very effectively, even today, I believe, be it in Kashmir or in Balochistan...Again, I have to say "Thanks!" to the people on either side who, dutifully, continue to hate those on the other side of the border...I absolutely must thank those who enabled me to visit the Pakistani part of Punjab as a member of a Sikh Jathha, in April 2006, and see for myself how similar the Punjabis there are to my own self and other Punjabis from the Indian part of Punjab...If all these people had not done all that they have done in the past 70-80 years, I might never have started writing a blog at all!
A big "Thank you!" to Blogger.Com for providing me with a blogging-platform...They have not been able to solve the problems I have been having with the recently introduced 'Auto Save' feature and blank rows get inserted automatically between paragraphs, in addition to the one such row that I insert between any two paragraphs...This happens every time I return to work on a half-finished draft blog-post that I had saved (or rather 'Auto Save' had saved for me) the previous time I had signed in...but, anyway...
Last, but not the least, I would like to thank the jury for having found my blog to be worthy of the honour!"
If there were to be a real awards-function and I were to make an acceptance speech, I suppose it would have gone somewhat like this:
"Well...er...ahem...First of all, I would like to thank the Almighty...Then, I would like to thank my parents and teachers, who helped me learn to read and write the English language...
I would like to thank the so-called leaders of the Hindu and Muslim communities of pre-partition India, who, for the sake of building their personal fiefdoms, helped drive a wedge between the people of these two communities that ultimately led to partition of the country into two inpependent states i.e. India and Pakistan...I would, obviously, also have to thank the gullible people who followed these leaders and hated each other not only as much as their leaders wanted them to, but far beyond that...If they had not killed each other in such large numbers at the time of partition, it would have been so difficult to maintain the bitterness between the two countries for so many years that followed...I would like to thank the politicians on both sides, who realised that they could deflect peoples' attention away from their own failings, by attributing a lot of what was wrong with their respective countries, to 'the foreign hand'...Of course, they were also very ably assisted in their endeavours by the respective intelligence agencies that helped them foment trouble in each others' countries...In fact, such agencies are doing this, very effectively, even today, I believe, be it in Kashmir or in Balochistan...Again, I have to say "Thanks!" to the people on either side who, dutifully, continue to hate those on the other side of the border...I absolutely must thank those who enabled me to visit the Pakistani part of Punjab as a member of a Sikh Jathha, in April 2006, and see for myself how similar the Punjabis there are to my own self and other Punjabis from the Indian part of Punjab...If all these people had not done all that they have done in the past 70-80 years, I might never have started writing a blog at all!
A big "Thank you!" to Blogger.Com for providing me with a blogging-platform...They have not been able to solve the problems I have been having with the recently introduced 'Auto Save' feature and blank rows get inserted automatically between paragraphs, in addition to the one such row that I insert between any two paragraphs...This happens every time I return to work on a half-finished draft blog-post that I had saved (or rather 'Auto Save' had saved for me) the previous time I had signed in...but, anyway...
Last, but not the least, I would like to thank the jury for having found my blog to be worthy of the honour!"
Monday, August 13, 2007
Southwards bound: Delhi to Goa
It was the afternoon of the 13th of July and we had to catch a train in a few hours. So, we called for a taxi to drop us at the railway station.
As on most such trips, the luggage appeared to be more than absolutely necessary and my brother and I resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to, well, lug it around throughout the trip. We loaded as much of it as possible into the rear of the hatch-back that was sent for us. I put one of the couple of bags that were left on to my lap and my brother placed the other at his feet, as we set off.
It was a hot and humid day and it did not help at all that the taxi-driver turned out to be friendlier and more talkative than I would have liked him to be. My mother did not seem to mind though and she and my brother chatted with the driver, even as my father and I mostly kept to ourselves throughout the drive that lasted almost an hour.
The 2780 down Goa Express departed on schedule at 1500 hours, from the Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station and after securing the luggage under the berths with a couple of iron chains, we settled down for a journey that was expected to last for at least 41 hours.
Besides the batteries of my brother's and my cellphone having run out much before we reached Goa, there were a few more memorable events that occurred on the way.
Near the Raja Ki Mandi station at Agra, we were met by a very repulsive sight. Several men were defecating in the open, near the railway tracks. Now, I had encountered something similar on earlier occasions, while travelling on local trains in the National Capital Region, but what I saw next left me incapable of reacting in any way, for a long time. At the edge of a paved surface along the tracks, squatted a slim, dark, young woman, with her shapely rear-end exposed to public view, as she answered the call of nature. I suppose she represented some perverse form of women's liberation, somewhat similar to the formation of street-gangs by female criminals in the Western countries.
Then, one of the soldiers, all of whom were, apparently, on leave and off to their hometowns, offered to bribe the T. T. E. (Travelling Ticket Examiner) to convert his 'waiting list' ticket into a regular one and to allot him a berth against that. However, since the soldier's ticket had been issued against a 'travel warrant', the T. T. E. was too scared to accept the bribe! So, the soldier could not secure a berth for himself. He tried to spread a sheet on the coach's floor, between my mother's and father's berths, but my mother would not allow him to do that either, since she was afraid that he might cause her to trip and fall, if she were to get up to visit the toilet at night. I think that the soldier should have boarded a general category compartment rather than a reserved one, since that is what all passengers with 'waiting list' tickets are supposed to do, unless their berths are confirmed before boarding the train. Amused as I was at the predicament of the corrupt T. T. E., I felt sad to observe the soldier's dishonesty and also the way Indian Railways treats the men who put their lives on the line for the country's safety and security.
Towards the end of the journey, my parents befriended a gentleman who turned out to be a Kashmiri businessman. He told us that he spends a few months each year at Goa. For the rest of the year, when there are not too many tourists there, he goes back home to Srinagar. He has a shop at Goa that sells Kashmiri carpets and handicraft products. I leave it to the readers to draw their own conclusions about how this reflects upon the situation in Kashmir.
Last, but not the least, some of the scenery that went by the train window was rather nice. The photograph posted above was taken somewhere in Maharashtra, as far as I can remember, and shows a rock formation that might just as well have been shaped by man, as by nature.
As on most such trips, the luggage appeared to be more than absolutely necessary and my brother and I resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to, well, lug it around throughout the trip. We loaded as much of it as possible into the rear of the hatch-back that was sent for us. I put one of the couple of bags that were left on to my lap and my brother placed the other at his feet, as we set off.
It was a hot and humid day and it did not help at all that the taxi-driver turned out to be friendlier and more talkative than I would have liked him to be. My mother did not seem to mind though and she and my brother chatted with the driver, even as my father and I mostly kept to ourselves throughout the drive that lasted almost an hour.
The 2780 down Goa Express departed on schedule at 1500 hours, from the Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station and after securing the luggage under the berths with a couple of iron chains, we settled down for a journey that was expected to last for at least 41 hours.
Besides the batteries of my brother's and my cellphone having run out much before we reached Goa, there were a few more memorable events that occurred on the way.
Near the Raja Ki Mandi station at Agra, we were met by a very repulsive sight. Several men were defecating in the open, near the railway tracks. Now, I had encountered something similar on earlier occasions, while travelling on local trains in the National Capital Region, but what I saw next left me incapable of reacting in any way, for a long time. At the edge of a paved surface along the tracks, squatted a slim, dark, young woman, with her shapely rear-end exposed to public view, as she answered the call of nature. I suppose she represented some perverse form of women's liberation, somewhat similar to the formation of street-gangs by female criminals in the Western countries.
Then, one of the soldiers, all of whom were, apparently, on leave and off to their hometowns, offered to bribe the T. T. E. (Travelling Ticket Examiner) to convert his 'waiting list' ticket into a regular one and to allot him a berth against that. However, since the soldier's ticket had been issued against a 'travel warrant', the T. T. E. was too scared to accept the bribe! So, the soldier could not secure a berth for himself. He tried to spread a sheet on the coach's floor, between my mother's and father's berths, but my mother would not allow him to do that either, since she was afraid that he might cause her to trip and fall, if she were to get up to visit the toilet at night. I think that the soldier should have boarded a general category compartment rather than a reserved one, since that is what all passengers with 'waiting list' tickets are supposed to do, unless their berths are confirmed before boarding the train. Amused as I was at the predicament of the corrupt T. T. E., I felt sad to observe the soldier's dishonesty and also the way Indian Railways treats the men who put their lives on the line for the country's safety and security.
Towards the end of the journey, my parents befriended a gentleman who turned out to be a Kashmiri businessman. He told us that he spends a few months each year at Goa. For the rest of the year, when there are not too many tourists there, he goes back home to Srinagar. He has a shop at Goa that sells Kashmiri carpets and handicraft products. I leave it to the readers to draw their own conclusions about how this reflects upon the situation in Kashmir.
Last, but not the least, some of the scenery that went by the train window was rather nice. The photograph posted above was taken somewhere in Maharashtra, as far as I can remember, and shows a rock formation that might just as well have been shaped by man, as by nature.
Monday, August 06, 2007
India's first woman president
Columnist Shobhaa De has written in The Week, about the significance, or, rather, the lack of it, for issues related to women, of Pratibha Patil-Shekhawat taking over as president.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Farewell, People's President!
Eminent jurist Fali S. Nariman pays glowing tributes to Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam, the president of India from July 25, 2002, to July 25, 2007, in an article in The Indian Express.
I have always known that Dr. Kalam's personal integrity is beyond reproach, but this has been quite a revelation.
He has, arguably, been the best president India has had since Dr. S. Radhakrishnan.
I do wish that he had been elected for a second term in office.
I have always known that Dr. Kalam's personal integrity is beyond reproach, but this has been quite a revelation.
He has, arguably, been the best president India has had since Dr. S. Radhakrishnan.
I do wish that he had been elected for a second term in office.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Human Resources (Mis)Management
The advertisement appeared in the jobs supplement, Power Jobs, of the Hindustan Times. An N.G.O. (non-governmental organisation), which runs an institute for providing vocational training to the youth among the economically weaker sections of society, had advertised a number of job vacancies. Among the positions advertised, was one titled 'Executive - Human Resources'. So, I went along to attend the 'walk-in' interview.
The N.G.O. is backed by and, I believe, receives substantial financial support from a leading India-based pharmaceuticals company that has a presence in over 100 countries and is a front-runner, globally, in the generic pharmaceuticals business, in terms of revenues. The N.G.O. even shares a part of its name with the pharmaceuticals company.
Much of what transpired during the interview was quite interesting. It provided an insight into how the organisation, otherwise involved in philanthropic work, treats its own employees and how much it trusts them.
The following is an extract from the conversation that I had with the interviewer, who was a podgy, dark-complexioned woman, with a pronounced South-Indian accent:-
Interviewer: What is the most important quality that a person working in the field of Human Resources Management should have?
Sidhusaaheb: He or she should be a good listener.
Interviewer: Any other qualities that are important?
Sidhusaaheb: He or she should be able to empathise...
Interviewer: No, those are wrong answers.
Sidhusaaheb: I would say that is your point of view and it is different from mine.
Interviewer: The correct answer is 'confidentiality'. The Human Resources department has all the data about employees' salaries and a lot of problems are caused when employees find out about their colleagues' salaries. So, the HR department has to ensure that the data about salaries remain confidential.
Sidhusaaheb: All the data about salaries are also available with the Accounts department, so how can the HR department keep the information confidential?
Interviewer: No, no...The HR department has to keep the data confidential. So, 'confidentiality' is the most important quality to have, for a Human Resources professional.
Sidhusaaheb: Well, I shall again say that is your point of view and it is different from mine.
Interviewer: Thank you!
I did not bother to take the time to explain to her that if the salary structure of her organisation was fair and based on criteria understood and accepted by all employees, the company would not have had to try and adopt such a cloak-and-dagger approach. Incidentally, in all of the organisations that I have worked with, most employees had a fairly good idea of the salaries associated with various positions, whether or not the information had been shared with them by the 'management'.
Such policies, I believe, are fundamentally in disagreement with the basic concepts of Human Resources Management in the modern world. Over the years that I have spent working, I have realised that those concepts are employed only in the name, in most Indian business organisations, even in this day and age.
Recruitment and Selection are, still, largely based on the personal preferences of those in charge. Decisions to conduct Training programmes are not based on any scientific Training Needs analyses. Money and material rewards are still thought of as the greatest motivators for employees. Performance Appraisals, even though these are ostensibly based on best practices, are rigged so that the results reflect the personal opinions that the bosses have of the employees being appraised. The concept of Self-Directed Work Teams is alien to organisations in this country and what has been very conveniently done is that units formerly known as departments and work-groups are now called teams, with the 'worker' now known as 'team-member' and the 'supervisor' as 'team-leader', without effecting any change in the functioning.
Team-building is limited to periodic trips to scenic locations, with pleasurable activities like rock-climbing, river-rafting, etc., thrown in and is not taken too seriously by any one, since the Appraisal, as well as the Compensation and Reward Management systems, are still based on individual, rather than team-based performance criteria. When I sought to implement a Team Reward System in one of the organisations I worked with, the COO (Chief Operations Officer) rejected the idea saying that he had worked for five companies, earlier, and none employed any such system, when he ran out of logical arguments against it!
In his book titled 'Organizational Behavior: Concepts, Controversies, Applications' (published by Prentice-Hall, Inc.), Stephen P. Robbins writes, "Throughout this book we've argued that national differences-that is, national cultures-must be taken into account if accurate predictions are to be made about organizational behavior in different countries." and "The research indicates that national culture has a greater impact on employees than does their organization's culture.". I could not agree more!
So, is there still hope and will the hypocrisy ever come to an end? I do not have a definite answer.
The N.G.O. is backed by and, I believe, receives substantial financial support from a leading India-based pharmaceuticals company that has a presence in over 100 countries and is a front-runner, globally, in the generic pharmaceuticals business, in terms of revenues. The N.G.O. even shares a part of its name with the pharmaceuticals company.
Much of what transpired during the interview was quite interesting. It provided an insight into how the organisation, otherwise involved in philanthropic work, treats its own employees and how much it trusts them.
The following is an extract from the conversation that I had with the interviewer, who was a podgy, dark-complexioned woman, with a pronounced South-Indian accent:-
Interviewer: What is the most important quality that a person working in the field of Human Resources Management should have?
Sidhusaaheb: He or she should be a good listener.
Interviewer: Any other qualities that are important?
Sidhusaaheb: He or she should be able to empathise...
Interviewer: No, those are wrong answers.
Sidhusaaheb: I would say that is your point of view and it is different from mine.
Interviewer: The correct answer is 'confidentiality'. The Human Resources department has all the data about employees' salaries and a lot of problems are caused when employees find out about their colleagues' salaries. So, the HR department has to ensure that the data about salaries remain confidential.
Sidhusaaheb: All the data about salaries are also available with the Accounts department, so how can the HR department keep the information confidential?
Interviewer: No, no...The HR department has to keep the data confidential. So, 'confidentiality' is the most important quality to have, for a Human Resources professional.
Sidhusaaheb: Well, I shall again say that is your point of view and it is different from mine.
Interviewer: Thank you!
I did not bother to take the time to explain to her that if the salary structure of her organisation was fair and based on criteria understood and accepted by all employees, the company would not have had to try and adopt such a cloak-and-dagger approach. Incidentally, in all of the organisations that I have worked with, most employees had a fairly good idea of the salaries associated with various positions, whether or not the information had been shared with them by the 'management'.
Such policies, I believe, are fundamentally in disagreement with the basic concepts of Human Resources Management in the modern world. Over the years that I have spent working, I have realised that those concepts are employed only in the name, in most Indian business organisations, even in this day and age.
Recruitment and Selection are, still, largely based on the personal preferences of those in charge. Decisions to conduct Training programmes are not based on any scientific Training Needs analyses. Money and material rewards are still thought of as the greatest motivators for employees. Performance Appraisals, even though these are ostensibly based on best practices, are rigged so that the results reflect the personal opinions that the bosses have of the employees being appraised. The concept of Self-Directed Work Teams is alien to organisations in this country and what has been very conveniently done is that units formerly known as departments and work-groups are now called teams, with the 'worker' now known as 'team-member' and the 'supervisor' as 'team-leader', without effecting any change in the functioning.
Team-building is limited to periodic trips to scenic locations, with pleasurable activities like rock-climbing, river-rafting, etc., thrown in and is not taken too seriously by any one, since the Appraisal, as well as the Compensation and Reward Management systems, are still based on individual, rather than team-based performance criteria. When I sought to implement a Team Reward System in one of the organisations I worked with, the COO (Chief Operations Officer) rejected the idea saying that he had worked for five companies, earlier, and none employed any such system, when he ran out of logical arguments against it!
In his book titled 'Organizational Behavior: Concepts, Controversies, Applications' (published by Prentice-Hall, Inc.), Stephen P. Robbins writes, "Throughout this book we've argued that national differences-that is, national cultures-must be taken into account if accurate predictions are to be made about organizational behavior in different countries." and "The research indicates that national culture has a greater impact on employees than does their organization's culture.". I could not agree more!
So, is there still hope and will the hypocrisy ever come to an end? I do not have a definite answer.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
2137 Dn. Punjab Mail
My ancestral village is located in Bathinda district, in Punjab.
One of the most convenient ways to travel there from the place in the National Capital Region, where I presently reside, is to travel on the 2137 down, Punjab Mail, up to Bathinda, from where one can catch a bus to a small town and then another one, on to the village.
The train is supposed to depart from the local railway station at about 7:40 p.m., however, I have never seen it do that since it is almost invariably late. So, obviously, it almost never reaches Bathinda on time either, which is not all that bad actually, because it allows me a few more hours of sleep. Needless to add, it also helps reduce the chances of my having slept past the station.
However, a reserved berth in a second class sleeper compartment does not always ensure uninterrupted sleep.
On a recent trip, I must have curled up a bit while asleep, for when I tried to stretch my legs, my feet met with an obstruction. I woke up to find that a middle-aged man had climbed on to my (upper) berth to occupy the vacant space beyond my feet and was seated there, quite comfortably. My first impulse was to pretend to go back to sleep and push him down to the coach's floor with my feet. I overcame it soon, however, and asked him, very politely, if he could share a berth with someone shorter in height. He was not one to give in easily though and said that there was no point in doing that since he was, in any case, going to get off the train in 'a few minutes', which, it turned out, combined to form more than an hour!
On another such trip, I was woken up in the middle of the night by a loud female voice.
"Nee Parsinni, langhyaa, aithhe taaN lammiyaaN seataaN vehliyaaN hi paiyaaN ne!"
(O Parsinni, come along, a number of long seats (she meant to say berths) are vacant here!)
Along came the T.T.E. (Travelling Ticket Examiner) instead and, after enquiring about the old lady and her companions' travel plan, advised them to move to an unreserved compartment, which they did after a few moments of animated discussion. I slept undisturbed for the rest of the journey.
Besides incidents such as these, what makes the experience of travelling on the Punjab Mail special for me is the beauty of the Bathinda station (which features in the second of the two photographs posted above and where most of the constructions date back to the colonial-era).
The web site of the Indian Railways Fan Club Association, provides the following information about the famous train:
"The Punjab Mail runs between Bombay and Firozpur. This was the GIPR train; there was another train of the same name that ran for a while between Calcutta and Delhi on the East Indian Railway. The Punjab Mail made its debut on 1st June 1912. Like the later Frontier Mail, the Punjab Mail too used to connect with the P&O steamships on fixed mail days and would steam off from the Mole Station; on other days it departed from Bombay's Victoria Terminus.
For a brief period, an extended service called The Punjab Limited operated between Bombay VT and Peshawar, on the GIPR and NWR; this was a rival to the Frontier Mail, but does not seem to have lasted as a service for long. (There is some doubt whether the Punjab Limited was an entirely separate special service or a special extension of the Punjab Mail.) The Punjab Mail was among the fastest trains in pre-Independence India (probably the fastest one at various times). The train had air-cooled cars in 1945.
It was hauled by a variety of locos. XC locos were used after the rake was extended by the addition of third-class cars in the 1930s. In 1929-1930 EA/1 electric locos were used experimentally. The train later ran electric-hauled until Manmad, where a WP took over. From 1968 the train was diesel-hauled until Jhansi and by 1976 or so it became diesel-hauled all the way. A WCAM-1 loco was used a few times in an attempt to provide continuous haulage without locomotive changes, in the 1970s. Since then, and continuing today, it is hauled by a DC locomotive until Igatpuri and an AC locomotive thereafter towards Delhi and Firozpur."
One of the most convenient ways to travel there from the place in the National Capital Region, where I presently reside, is to travel on the 2137 down, Punjab Mail, up to Bathinda, from where one can catch a bus to a small town and then another one, on to the village.
The train is supposed to depart from the local railway station at about 7:40 p.m., however, I have never seen it do that since it is almost invariably late. So, obviously, it almost never reaches Bathinda on time either, which is not all that bad actually, because it allows me a few more hours of sleep. Needless to add, it also helps reduce the chances of my having slept past the station.
However, a reserved berth in a second class sleeper compartment does not always ensure uninterrupted sleep.
On a recent trip, I must have curled up a bit while asleep, for when I tried to stretch my legs, my feet met with an obstruction. I woke up to find that a middle-aged man had climbed on to my (upper) berth to occupy the vacant space beyond my feet and was seated there, quite comfortably. My first impulse was to pretend to go back to sleep and push him down to the coach's floor with my feet. I overcame it soon, however, and asked him, very politely, if he could share a berth with someone shorter in height. He was not one to give in easily though and said that there was no point in doing that since he was, in any case, going to get off the train in 'a few minutes', which, it turned out, combined to form more than an hour!
On another such trip, I was woken up in the middle of the night by a loud female voice.
"Nee Parsinni, langhyaa, aithhe taaN lammiyaaN seataaN vehliyaaN hi paiyaaN ne!"
(O Parsinni, come along, a number of long seats (she meant to say berths) are vacant here!)
Along came the T.T.E. (Travelling Ticket Examiner) instead and, after enquiring about the old lady and her companions' travel plan, advised them to move to an unreserved compartment, which they did after a few moments of animated discussion. I slept undisturbed for the rest of the journey.
Besides incidents such as these, what makes the experience of travelling on the Punjab Mail special for me is the beauty of the Bathinda station (which features in the second of the two photographs posted above and where most of the constructions date back to the colonial-era).
The web site of the Indian Railways Fan Club Association, provides the following information about the famous train:
"The Punjab Mail runs between Bombay and Firozpur. This was the GIPR train; there was another train of the same name that ran for a while between Calcutta and Delhi on the East Indian Railway. The Punjab Mail made its debut on 1st June 1912. Like the later Frontier Mail, the Punjab Mail too used to connect with the P&O steamships on fixed mail days and would steam off from the Mole Station; on other days it departed from Bombay's Victoria Terminus.
For a brief period, an extended service called The Punjab Limited operated between Bombay VT and Peshawar, on the GIPR and NWR; this was a rival to the Frontier Mail, but does not seem to have lasted as a service for long. (There is some doubt whether the Punjab Limited was an entirely separate special service or a special extension of the Punjab Mail.) The Punjab Mail was among the fastest trains in pre-Independence India (probably the fastest one at various times). The train had air-cooled cars in 1945.
It was hauled by a variety of locos. XC locos were used after the rake was extended by the addition of third-class cars in the 1930s. In 1929-1930 EA/1 electric locos were used experimentally. The train later ran electric-hauled until Manmad, where a WP took over. From 1968 the train was diesel-hauled until Jhansi and by 1976 or so it became diesel-hauled all the way. A WCAM-1 loco was used a few times in an attempt to provide continuous haulage without locomotive changes, in the 1970s. Since then, and continuing today, it is hauled by a DC locomotive until Igatpuri and an AC locomotive thereafter towards Delhi and Firozpur."
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