The Post Office

The Post Office in my locality is a small dingy looking place but it is set amidst nice trees and greenery and the serenity beckons me. However, recently there has been a change of guard and the current Post Master seems to be a reincarnation of the Lord Yama himself! He snarls, he shouts, is constantly pissed off and is a man with absolutely no peace whatsoever! If ever there is a person you better stay away from, then this is that man! If ever there is a person to whom you should literally mean when you say “Rest in Peace”, then this is that man!!

When I first went in, he was calm enough. I later realized that his sense of anger is directly proportional to the length of the queue awaiting his service! He gave me two forms to fill and as I started filling those forms, the queue started increasing and it gave me an insight to this man’s murderous moods!

It did not matter whether the customer was a small boy or a teenager or a woman in middle age or an aged man, the Post Master treated them with disdain, as if they were present just to irk him and he irked them royally back! An octogenarian came, puffing and panting, walking from God knows where, and asked for his pension. The Post Master rebuffed back at him that he was very busy and ordered the octogenarian to come post-lunch session on the coming Monday. Such was the dignity of the latter that he muttered “Olledagli” (which roughly translates to “Let good happen” or “Let there be good”). That shows the well-mannered-ness of the older generation who bestow goodness in spite of being rebuked by their youngsters.

To almost every customer, the Post Master was telling that he was over-worked and that he was too occupied during first half of the day and ordering them to come after 3 pm. As if he was the only guy in the world with lot of work! I realized that it was because of Government workers like this guy, who make customers visit them again and again to get work done, that the Indian Government has received all the flak over the period of last few decades.

But to the Post Master’s defense, the Post Office was really in a dilapidated state. An Indian PO is unlike a US PO which concentrates only on delivering letters and packages across the country. An Indian PO, because of lack of letters and packages to be delivered across the country as compared to USA, also acts as a bank and hence boasts of savings bank account and deposit schemes for its customers but - this comes as a shock - without a single computer! Imagine an office full of heavy account books whose pages are torn, the binding is almost eaten away, and the account balances are written in pen! Imagination boggles if one lets the mind to ask what happens in case of a fire! To top it, the Post Master does not have any other peer in the post office to assist him, and hence, with the growing queue, comes the growing agitation at the Government’s inability to provide basic amenities to function properly.

And the Government is rejoicing in finding a new symbol for the Indian Rupee. As someone commented on the Times of India, who are we kidding?!

Thought for the day

When a person in a developing country visits a developed country, there is much to cheer...

But when a person is born in a developed country and travels around the world, there is nothing much to cheer about...

Typical Us

"Can you switch on the fan?"
"Do you want the fan on?"
"Why? Do you not want it on?"
"Its ok. I will switch on the fan."
"No, its ok. Don't switch on the fan."

The fan is switched on.

:-)

The First Half of 2010

“Change is the only constant thing in this world.”

Today marks the end of the first half of 2010. This has been “the most happening” year in no uncertain terms. There has been a constant change around me in terms of projects, people and personal affairs (related to relatives, friends and self).

After working for 5 years in one project group, 2010 finally ushered in a breath of fresh air and I moved into a new module. It was a pleasant change, especially because some of my old team mates were in this new module and the merge into the new module seemed seamless.

Couple of my friends bought new houses. Many of my friends got married. Many gave birth to their offspring. Many gave good news of being in the pipeline to give births in the latter half of the year. Many who were in onsite returned back. Made many new friends.

But the hardest part was many near and dear ones no longer were ‘near’. A huge number of colleagues - who are close friends too - quit (or went onsite) in the first half of the year and considering how good each one was, not just in terms of skill set but also character-wise, it was considerably a big loss – a void that can never be filled, even though, the cliché farewell mail typically says “I am just a click away…” I am just thankful that I got to meet such wonderful people who enriched my own life albeit for a short period of time. It is rightly said thus:

Endaro Mahanubhavulu Andariki Vandanamulu…

The Weighing Machine

Whenever my wife stands on the weighing machine and see the scale go higher than she expected, she smiles.

Whenever I stand on the weighing machine and see the scale go higher than I expect, I grimace.

It is strange how one machine can bring about two diametrically opposite emotions.

The Open Fly

Today I saw a fellow lady employee in the campus in Western formals who somewhat seemed inappropriately dressed. I couldn’t place what was wrong with her apparel until my eyes fell on the trousers. Her fly was open! It looked outright odd! Its one thing to have a man’s fly open but it is another thing altogether to have a woman’s fly open!

She passed right by me and I had half a mind to tell her about it. But I wanted to avoid the embarrassing situation. I could have told the lady friend who was with me to inform the lady employee about it but I was embarrassed even to tell my lady friend!

I am not sure if I was right in not telling and avoiding one embarrassing situation than allowing her to walk around all over the campus creating more embarrassing situations.

What the ...?

Seen on a cigarette box in big font, covering almost one side of the box:

SMOKING KILLS. TOBACCO CAUSES CANCER.

Then why are you manufacturing it, dude?!!

The Marital Transaction

Recently I was subject to witness the preliminary discussions being held for a marital occasion. Suffice it to say that it was not pleasant. I sensed negative energy all around me. Suddenly, somewhere, the topic had diverted from the joyous union of a male and female to a completely noncommittal business transaction between the girl’s side and the boy’s side involving money, gold, gifts, etc. There were demands, bargaining, raised voices, etc. It was outright disgusting. It was at times like this when I wish I am the eldest in the group and everyone abides by what I say. Being in the minority (both in age and thought), I was outnumbered by like-minded people who spoke of everything that surrounded ‘Male Chauvinism and Supremacy’ but very much meant that in one way or the other.

I wish I had the guts like Ananya Swaminathan to stand up in front of elders and be counted. I don’t. So I left midway during the discussion.

I choose to ignore what I cannot stand.

Run Vs Walk

I have never seen my 20-something-year-old neighbour walking. I have been seeing him since 2+ years and everytime I see him, he is always running. I see him get out of the house and run, either to shop or to college. I see him come home running. It is as if his thought is ‘Why walk when one can run?’ He is like Forrest Gump. Imagine the amount of time he saves by not walking!

I wonder, just supposing, if he encounters some kind of muscle tear or wear at the age of 40+, his doctor would then ask him ‘Why have you been running all your life when you can walk?’

:-)

The UPS

Whenever there is a power shutdown, the UPS (Uninterrupted Power Supply) kicks on. This is the norm in every other household and commercial establishment nowadays in India.

For me, this indicates that the Government is unable to provide electricity but the citizen is able to afford alternate means of electricity on their own. It shows that the Government is unable to provide basic means of living to it's citizenry 24*7 but the citizenry can take care of itself without Government's assistance for a few hours. Its like a slap on the Government!

If only this was true for water too...Welcome the Rainfall! :-)

The Mehndi Man

Two innocuous looking men sit on the pavement of Jayanagar 4th block and apply magnificent mehndi on girls’ hands. They are experts. They can complete intricate designs from fingertips to elbow for both hands within one hour. Since they are so good, there is always a queue of girls waiting in glee to get their hands all painted, be it weekday or weekend.

The fare charged for fingertips to elbow for both hands is Rs 500. Lesser the distance from the fingertips, lesser the amount, subject to a minimum of Rs 150 (which covers just the palm). If the Rs 500 takes about 1 hr, the Rs 150 takes about 15 minutes for the mehndi man to apply.

They usually start their business by about 10 am and go up to 10 pm. The demand for them is less in the morning and more as the day progresses. Assuming an average income of Rs 300 per hour, the daily income of one mehndi man is Rs 3600. (I am sure this is the bare minimum because every time I have seen them in evenings, they have a huge queue; and almost every girl gets the Rs 500 service) Assuming they work for 6 days of the week (weekends are when they get more customers), this would imply their weekly income is Rs 21600 per person and monthly income per person is close to Rs 1 lakh with almost zero investment on equipment and real estate!

So these simple looking men on the pavement applying mehndi on girls have a gross annual salary of about 12 lakhs per person and completely non taxable because there is no bill provided and transaction is all in cash. They don’t even have a shop. On the contrary, its better not to have a shop and not to expand as having a shop will only eat up their profit in terms of taxation, real estate, shop equipments, etc. And in any case, girls prefer mehndi on pavements (thinking they will be cheaper) than mehndi applied in shops (thinking it will be costly).

So.

My happy-happy mehndi-laden wife finally came to where I was waiting and my hour long wait came to an end. I stopped thinking further on the mind-boggling intricacies of small-time lesser-known Indian economy.

My First Interview

Today I participated in my company’s recruitment process by being part of the Interview panel. For the first time in my life, I conducted an interview. It was akin to Man playing God. You suddenly have power to enhance lives or ruin hopes. In other words, you have power for one day to help the organisation grow and make it better. That’s a better and diplomatic way of putting it. I have come a long way since I attended my first interview…

Note: Incidentally, my first interview for employment - about 8 years ago - happened in the same campus where I conducted my own first interview, albeit it was for a different company.

My Two Cents

I have noticed that my wife brings out the humour in me.
I tend to crack more jokes and have more laughs with her than when I am with anyone else.

My wife says I don’t make pals easily.
Although I hate to admit it, its true.

After my friend Adiga informed me, I started noticing the weirdness in Harsha Bhogle’s cricket commentary.
His commentary is full of statistics and numbers revolving around cricket but it is not actually about cricket.

After my dad informed me, I started noticing that Bangalore traffic is filled with ambulances and their blares while it was not so much in yesteryears.
Reminds me of cities like New York and Boston where it is a common occurrence.

We had 9/11 and 26/11 but the dates do not signify a common month.
Life would be so much simpler if we standardize one date format, one metric unit, one method of driving system, etc across the world.

There are so many people playing farming in Facebook.
If even half of them plant real trees and get their hands dirty in the mud instead of playing on the net in the comfort of their homes, this world will become so much better.

When I go on train journeys, I get to see vast farm lands filled with lush greenery.
Somehow this has a soothing effect on me and it makes my travel that much more enjoyable and desirous.

I realized that mornings are never my own and I never get to enjoy the ozonated oxygen early in the day.
Except on weekends, but that’s when I prefer bed than fresh oxygen.

Many soap operas emit heavy negative energy and revolve only around sadistic schemes within the family.
Life will be enriched if happiness of co-existence mixed with humour (remember Dekh Bhai Dekh?!) is shown more than just disappointments mixed with revenge.

I think I will stop here.
I am feeling sleepy.

16000 Hours

In a year, we have 365 days.

Counting out the weekends, we get 261 days.

Counting out 20 days of leaves and holidays, we get 241 days.

Considering 9 hrs per day, we have 2169 hrs per year.

Approximating my corporate life to 7.5 years,

I have worked for over 16000 hrs as a Software Engineer.

Does that mean I can never make a mistake in my profession on any given day?

PS: No offense meant to the ill-fated pilot but just an observation. It just seems silly to quote a huge number of professional hours against a person to show his infallibility.

Welcome to the cruel world

The maid who comes to our house is aged about 40 and has many daughters and sons and umpteen grandchildren, thanks to a series of child marriages (a phenomenon still ever-so-existing in the below-poverty Indian populace). While sipping coffee after her daily chores, she usually narrates a tale of her life or my mom does the same.

In one such tale-telling-moment, the maid related an event wherein her daughter’s parents-in-law threatened her - while the daughter was in labour in a Government hospital - that she will be welcomed back to the home only if she delivers a baby boy. As it turned out, the daughter delivered a baby girl. In panic, our maid bribed a nurse to replace the new-born daughter with a new-born son. In just Rs 5000, the job was done. Perhaps the mother of the new-born son needed some part of that Rs 5000; or perhaps she never came to know about the switch and wasn’t even aware what child she had given birth to.

Whatever be the case, the maid’s daughter had to forego her own dear daughter – whom she carried in her womb for the last 9 months – to some one else’s son just for the sake of entering back into her in-law’s house and continue staying with her husband. This switch, to this day, is known only to the maid and maid’s daughter. The grand son thinks of the maid’s daughter as his mother while his own mother is somewhere out there and the maid’s real granddaughter is somewhere out there without even knowing who her real mother is. Or perhaps she is already dead in a ditch.

During pregnancy scans, the gender of the child is not to be revealed as per the Rules and Regulations set forth by the Indian Government just so to avoid female genocide. But of what use is this rule if it is manipulated in this manner, that too in a Government Hospital, for a sum of money?

In the above tale, every one has played a criminal act – from the in-laws (threatening) to the husband (meek) to the maid (bribing for the switch) to the daughter (agreeing to do the switch) to the nurse (doing the switch and taking the bribe) to perhaps even the son’s mother (if applicable) (accepting part of bribe).

At the same time, every person had a reason to do what they did - from the in-laws (desperate need for continuation of the family generation) to the husband (ditto) to the maid (future life of her daughter) to the daughter (her own future life) to the nurse (compassion to the daughter and daughter’s future life) to perhaps even the son’s mother (if applicable)(desperate need for money).

The only innocent persons are the new-born-son and the new-born-daughter. What did they do to lose their real mothers? A fitting welcome to the cruel world.

Natural Beauty

She had perfect features, with her eyes, nose, lips and ears the right size and in right places. That is all it takes to make people beautiful - normal body parts - yet why does nature mess it up so many times?

~Chetan Bhagat in "2 States: The Story of my marriage"

After-Life

Suppose there is no such thing called life after death, then it means its always a big get-together after-life! What with no one leaving Heaven or Hell as the case may be, there is no farewell parties - just welcome and get-together parties! Boy, its fun to get back in touch with so many great people with whom we would have lost touch...!!

Salesperson at Jayanagar

There is this guy in a tie who sells microwave-able plastic kitchen containers in Jayanagar 4th Block complex everyday. He has a backpack full of such containers and he juggles about 4-5 in both of his hand. He stands near the Bluebell sweets shop and scans each passer-by to check if anyone is gullible enough. Sometimes he even crosses the road and follows some customers in the faint hope of them being interested in his containers.

He has never approached me as yet but I haven’t yet seen anyone even listening to him for more than 5 seconds. As soon as he approaches, people wave him away or shake their head. They not even stop in their stride.

Who would want to buy plastic containers from someone on the road when there are so many shops around wherein customers can exchange a day later if they are not satisfied? What is his profit margin? What is his ROI for the time and energy spent?

What makes this guy go on everyday? Especially, dressed with a tie at 9 pm.

Helpless

I received a forward which had originated from a professor in Tata Institute of Fundamental Research imploring a corporate friend of his to forward the email to ask for funds to sponsor a bunch of high school students who had been selected in a global competition to participate in a related event being held at Texas, USA. The mail went on to talk about the exemplary innovation used by the young minds and the irony of being short of funds to even take part (and possibly win) the competition.

When I read this mail, my heart went out to the professor. He was asking for about 2 Lakh Rupees. That’s peanuts for so many people in this world. If only a few such people come forward and sponsor those bright kids, this world will be a better place.

Some times I feel so helpless, seeing so many such ‘Want Money’ mails. It is at times like this when I feel I should earn more and more and increase my donation budget but there is only so much one person can do…And then again, a catch always lies with earning more.

Yummy!

Friday Breakfast: Khara Bhath (Uppit)

Friday Lunch: Chow Chow Bhath (Uppit, Shira/Sajjige)

Friday Evening snack-cum-Dinner: Avalakki, Cucumber-carrot salad, Banana, Mango, Apple, Toblerone chocolate, Basin-Ladu, Ice-Cream, Orange Juice.

Saturday Breakfast: Puri-Saagu.

Saturday Lunch: Curd-Rice.

Saturday Evening snack-cum-Dinner: Churmuri, Veg-Puff, Chips, Gobi Manchuri, Dahi-Puri, Banana.

Sunday Breakfast: Vermicelli

Sunday Lunch: Tomato Cream Soup, Grilled Cheese Sandwich, French Fries

Sunday Evening snack-cum-Dinner: Masala-Bonda, Sambar-Vada, Pani Puri, Sambar-Rice, Curd-Rice.