A sense of deja vu...

The morning came with the afternoon sun. At 11.00 am almost, with my neighbour waking me up. 'I think you had a talk to attend, Ajit Balakrishnan.' Looked at the watch and realized the benefits of being battle-ready for such eventualities. Sleeping with your jeans on and having a pack of mint nearby can crunch the 'getting-ready' time to less than five minutes.

The talk was not worth a miss. Came with a quite a few doubts about the future of Indian BPO. But that calls for a separate post altogether. This post is about something else. It's about the possibilities that an Indian mind is ready to explore, sometimes with not the most honourable of intentions. Anyway, as I entered my room and picked up the toothbrush, my eyes lazed away to the day's anchor in TOI.

The lazed glance quickly metamorphosized into paper-grabbing interest. Hazy memories of recent times fought their way up, cutting through a mindful of wasteful thoughts.

"These coins are so heavy, you could make a profit if you just sell the steel!" I could remember my father's comment, though neither he nor anyone else quite accepted it as a practical business proposition. And whaddya know! Someone really turned into a business proposition. This is one cost of inflation I have never found in any macroeconomics textbooks. Of governments losing money by actually making it!A fine example of entrepreneurship if there ever was one. Of making possible what the mint of UK believes to be a frightfully difficult task for the common man. Of course, it also more than underscores the respect we have for stability in the current processes.

To actually capitalize on this stray thought process also tells us of the eager anticipation with which we look for holes in the system. Any and every way of governance and societal existence is open to total and unconditional exploitation. Sometimes, this leads to random sequences of ill-defined, unrepentant growth. On most other occasions, this effort at entrepreneurship ensures the preclusion of logical comforts which a human being should be entitled to enjoy. While I do not dream of Utopia, rightly known as the land which does not exist, I do wish for some laws which allow one the right to exercise an iota of judgment. Regulatory authorities being already aware of the general directions of the predisposition of this leniency, already acquire a non-surprising reluctance to provide any leeways from the bureaucratic juggernaut.

[Don't exactly know what I had in mind while writing this post, but I guess a publishing a half-written post is better than not publishing one. Dunno if the ending line is what I really wanted to say, but what the heck1 ]

To think we are proud of having the largest constitution in the world. Does it not, atleast in one sense, indicate that we are also the least law-abiding citizenry of the law-abiding world!

Mythological Motivations

Let me say I am weak at mythology. All my experiences with Indian mythology are limited to the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Nandan (a Hindi Children's monthly), Chandamama, B.R. Chopra, Ramanand Sagar and Anant Pai (rather Uncle Pai!). Introductions with Norse and Greek one's are further constrained to the odd articles here or there and the occasional stories found in folk-tale collections.

Still, there are some mythological characters that just stick on you. Some, who while lurking in the background, away from the great heros, present a fundamental heart wrenching reality in their own microcosm. Be it Astavakra, Eklavya, Jatayu... they are the ones who often steal the show. While the great events often adapt themselves as phrases in the normal language, its the small characters that many a time remain sketched in minds and memories, reminding, reinforcing in a sacrosanct way what you always knew.

One such character I came across while in school was that of Icarus. One of the first few and one of the only characters I remember from greek mythology. But the story then had immediate implications for me. It is not uncommon for a child to disobey his parents. But to learn of the fatal implications of such an act, could bring rude shocks. Insubtly. My very first feelings for the character were pity. He knew the follies of venturing near the sun or the damp, there was no tangible benefit which attracted him there. But he travelled, he went right upto the sun, right till he had no feathers to fly. I had left the story there, sympathising, living with the character etched in my memory.

As I came across the character a little recently quite by accident, I was reminded of my first encounter. But the emotions which the story evoked, were not the same. What Icarus displayed to me was a fundamental lack of rationality. An irrationality that can be linked from global warming to the next promotion. It tells you why a child risks disobeying his parents at the risk of a spanking. It displays an an irrationality that pervades most of our problems and defines most of our solutions.

When was the last time you ate that last chocolate cake knowing its not good for diabetics, when was the last time you overslept, procrastinated, stayed up late at work for that promotion, ignored global warming to be problem of the future while starting that car. I don't profess to know why you did this, but certainly, if you have ever exchanged a small short-term gratification for a long-term loss, you know why Icarus travelled to the sun.

[continuing another half written article - completed and published on 28th May 2.48 a.m.]

Irrationality and immeasurability in the world of the defined, rational and measurable is what keeps us human perhaps. Research(links would be provided if asked for), has shown that most gifts are overpaid for and represent a waste of money. Given the option what would you like, money splurged on expensive gifts or drab demand drafts.

Imagine for a second a world in which Icarus does not ever fly to the sun, imagine the world where we don't take risks, imagine a world with no global warming, imagine nuclear disarmament, no hunger, no unplanned chocolate cakes, no surprise gifts, no Edisons and Teslas, no imagination, no mythology, no motivation. A world devoid of discoveries and filled with improvisations. A world that runs with six sigma precision, a utopia.. a dystopia.

What Icarus stands for is recklessness, a playful spirit of disobedience, a capacity to take risks, a carefree spirit that lives for the moment! Even at the risk of life itself...

The Profanities of Existence

A desire to uniquely place myself undergoes the ritual daily manifestation. Whenever I get my overly large posterior off from the mattress and manage to get the bulging adipose away from the quilt. It takes effort to bear the chilly morning and see your watch telling you that the time has passed for lesser (and slower) mortals to reach the class today. It is that time when the desire is strong, a desire to transcend beyond the immediate needs and requirements – the profanities of existence. A desire to weave eloquence in the undertones of getting up, brushing your teeth, forgetting to comb your hair and rushing to the class, missing the lecture for the nth time this week (Actually its only 5 times a week, but n shows better effect!) . It is then that reality dawns. Transcending the daily routine and wishing for something higher might take more of my time but I realize the HR issues plaguing my life. As the day passes that I seriously realize the need to employ someone other than the full-time employed Mr. Nobody who takes care of all my chores presently.

Wishes to transcend do not translate the wishing away to physical reality. As I aim for the higher purpose (All I think of is high! I practice it too. You really have to see the pile of junk in my room to see that I only believe in things going up), I realize mundanities have made it a habit to hamper solitary contemplations. Soliloquies on what I would do in the absence of quotidian demands on my precious seconds. Perhaps someday, I will get down to finding time for it. Someday I will read the pile of BS (that’s Business Std., what did you think?) lying on the cupboard. Someday I will even get that list of papers I wanted to check out, perhaps even write those DVDs and get some of the laundry done. If I am really lucky, perhaps my 7-book strong book collection will get some much needed dusting. Someday my table will not resemble the eternal dumping ground of all things torn and wasteful.

I discern a few words now and then: costs, processes, culture, equity, value-chain, realignment - the words fly by as I try to catch hold of them. Some of them just come by to spite me I think, to make me realize the futility of getting Mr. Nobody off the job. That fellow has unreasonably high replacement costs. Life goes on, on autopilot. There is the steering wheel somewhere around nearby, but when no one’s holding it, it’s a bit difficult to exactly pinpoint the location. And autopilot is comfortable. You even get to say, you enjoy the moment, that you see the present as a gift. Even put on display some other remarkable facets of imbecile wordplay. To put on the greatest spin, perhaps I can even correlate it in a Calvinistic fashion (the only Calvin I know is from Calvin and Hobbes) to building character. The higher the time it takes you to dig out that Kotler, the more is it a test of your tolerance and perseverance and the more is your inherent ability to withstand stress and the onerous responsibilities of physical labour. The daily effort in finding a place to sit, to lie down is enough to keep one on one’s edges in a character-building roller-coaster.

I do not wish to belabour the point, but it also indicates altruism of character that distinguishes a benevolent personality. Consider this, the total amount of junk in the world is going to remain constant. And if I fill more junk in my room, I make the rest of the world cleaner. If not absolutely, then atleast relatively in a Birbalesque fashion of making a line seem smaller by drawing a longer one next to it. If my room serves as a reference point, most people would be praising the excellent civic spirit of cleanliness in the city of Mumbai.

And think about the drive for cleanliness I spread around. Consider the inspirations and ramifications of the piles of plenty that permeate my room. The day is not far when case-studies on waste management will advise whom not to emulate. ‘Clean it up!’ speech sessions (to be inspired after an inspection of my humble abode) will quote me as example on for a possible futuristic scenario.

Again, to start cleaning up now for worldly ostentation would only show a cheapness of spirit and lowliness of thought. It would be plain and simple cruel to the environment. My room has generated its own healthy little ecosystem. A couple of lizards, incidental mosquitos and a variety of visitor insects dot all corners, building their homes, carrying out their whole life-cycles. Think of the decorations of the spiders, the intricate webs – to destroy them all in one ruthless stroke of maniacal sanitization, would rob the world of its colour and vibrancy. I simply do not have the heart enough to do it.

By the way, to all those on a perpetual cleanliness drive, I would just repeat the old cliché – Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Only next……

First Term at L

The glass mellows, filters, numbs the intensity of the noon sun. Any sounds extrinsic to the coach face a no-entry as they try to board. The temperature is artificial as might be many things inside. It feels insulated. It is insulated, reinforced insulation. The wheels turn fast, kissing the tracks, holding on to them. I move homeward.

As the sounds die and the sights vaporize, the reflections start. A term is over. A short term as defined by time. Twelve weeks. A long term, if the added factor of it being the first term at a B-school like IIML is considered. A lot has happened and will continue happening, the details of which I will capture better in another spick and span new blog. As for the B-school, suffice to say, they make sure you are sure you look good even though you don’t have time to check your condition in the mirror.

Night-outs were a culture in engineering too. But the sole basis of being an owl was simply missing out on studies for six months in the hope of the one night. But you always had the option of sleeping. A B-school however screams blasphemy if it finds any student indulging in the pleasures of slumber. Any time spent in salutions to the Goddess of Sleep only seems to imply that you have no other work to do. When most nights are night-outs you don’t call them night-outs any more. It slowly peels off any layers of innocence and tolerance extant on the soul of an incoming fresher.

As I mulled on the jargonized common sense presented by organizational behaviour, my as yet untrained mind tried to comprehend the convolutions of the legal language. The joys of accounting and the intricacies of Quantitative Analysis conspired as they waited in ambush while CGI was getting impatient, waiting for its chance to overwhelm in conjunction with OM.

As days passed, the number of projects I have worked on till date saw a 200% increase. From gender inequalities at the workplace to the economics of the telecommunications industry, from documenting the process improvements at Gortrac to demystifying the financial statements of Classic Diamonds, everything worked together burdening my proportionately tiny intellect.

In retrospect, I can say that life till now has been action-packed and will continue to be so for the near future. It starts like a gentle breeze, slapping you on the wrists. Slowly, by the degrees, it turns into a mini-tornado engulfing you and tossing you around and leaving you pretty dumbstruck, whenever you are given a chance to peek out that is, that you have actually managed surviving till now.

You can read about life at a B-school, you can wonder about it, you can perhaps even analyze it to tiny details, but as they say you ain’t knowing it till you actually experience it!

What I miss in IIML

I read a newspaper today! For one whole hour!

Here at IIML, this statement would signify nothing less than a momentous achievement. And this is what I miss second most here (The first being home cooked food!). The delicious joy of following the intricately constructed arguments about 'national interest' and losing yourself in the reams of paper expounding the 'intellectual underpinings' of this 'great democracy'. Yup, I am speaking of the unadulterated pleasure of following the nation's politics. Its something I have really begun to miss. Chronically humour depreived would be a precise description of my state now. For those who have never experienced the pleasure of indulging in political specatatorship, allow me to explain.

Reading politics and better still watching it is unbelievably entertaining. Some of the most unintentionally hilarious moments on television have been on the live telecast of the Lok Sabha in session. On another level, it also appeals and invigorates all the dormant pious instincts that you may have preserved to this day. After all, divine intervention is the only plausible reason that the national framework still stands. If you have never seen the parliament in session, let me share some enriching experiences:

It was the question hour of parliament and a backbencher was questioning the telecommunications minister. I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention.

'What would be government's policy with regards to frequency allocation for emerging technologies like UMTS and WCDMA?' (This is not the exact question, but the gist as I remember it.)

I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention. Being an electronics engineer who had spent nights framing SoPs on how he would like to contribute to 4G technologies, I was surprised to the point of stupefication that such things were actually discussed in the Lok Sabha. My immensely mistaken impression then connected the sole utility of this structure as a primary medium for slogan shouting, walking out and congregating in the well. The minister started replying and I did not have to work too hard at restraining my newfound sense of awe:

"We will leave it to the market forces. (some non-specific generalized sentences).The government is not going to discriminate between CDMA or GSM."

I rolled over the statement in my head. Surely, there was something missing. But the backbencher was satisfied. And I was hooked. Enlightenment. The arcane mysteries of policy making started unravelling around me. I looked up the telecom minister's website. His astute discriminating worldview emerged perhaps from the years he spent studying economics. A degree in economics, ofcourse, eliminates the need to fiddle around with trivial acronyms of dubious utility. I also saw his 'vision plan' for leapfrogging directly to 4G.

And I cried after that. My head bowed in respect to the unparalleled efforts of the Indian decision makers towards providing comic relief to a saas-bahu laden TV scenario. From then on, perhaps as a mark of appreciation for this effort, I caught up with the parliament broadcast whenever I could. And day after day, this belief of mine was reinforced!

An angry Somnath Chatterjee and the honourable MPs teasing him. These were lessons in stress release that I will never forget. To blend a childlike unrestrained mirth with the travails of policymaking was exemplified in their behaviour. Again there were a few spoilsports like BhairavSingh Shekawat who managed to enforce an superficial discussion and suppress these natural instincts, but thankfully they kept their hands off the Lower House.

And speaking of Unity, this is where you see the best examples. Infact, this is one place where you actually learn that walkouts and protests are a better idea than discussions in the parliament. The second event I remember during the sombre and worklike mood of the parliament (the first being my brushes with 3G and 4G) was in the days before the introduction of the 93rd constitutional amendment Act. It was a BJP MP who raised the issue of the 'deprieved' classes being not able to secure their rightful place in private institutes. It was a UPA minister who answered the concern with plans to bring about a Constitutional Amendment to correct this 'injustice' (became famous some months later as Mandal II). To this day whenever I hear the Congress and the BJP harping the same tune, I often start sweating!

This visual vividity of perennial laughter is what led me further to explore the vicarious pleasures of the recorded words - the saved records on the Parliament of India website. And it was remarkable. Yes.. there was mine to dig but the tireless were rewarded with true jewels. Like on the debate on uniform civil code, a recorded argument against uniform civil code - 'Shariah is the word of God and no one can challenge it'. And for all those hounding Advani for his Jinnah remarks (for the lesser educated, he praised Jinnah's secular vision for Pakistan based on a speech of Jinnah), the Indian constituent assembly actually praised Jinnah's spirit which led him to carve out the state of Pakistan. No this is not my interpretation. It is present in those many words! (A link would be provided if asked for!)

And now I miss that. IIM Lucknow has led me away from the intellectual joys of ineffectual democracy. From the puppet prime minister and the 'progressive' leftist opposition to the 'supportive' rightists and the IIMAed Lalu, I no longer can enjoy their unique attempts at public service. We certainly do not have the best politicians in the world as part as governance is concerned, but when it comes to public entertainment, its a challenge to come up with better.

On Power Cuts and Perspectives....

And into one end [of the Total Perspective Vortex], he plugged the whole of reality as extrapolated from a piece of fairy cake, and into the other, he plugged his wife: so that when he turned it on she saw in one instant the whole infinity of creation and herself in relation to it.
To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain........

-Douglas Adams
(The Restaurant at the End of the Universe)

We experienced a power cut on campus today. I was walking down the corridor, towards the water cooler at around 9 pm, when suddenly all lights went out. Black. That was how the scene looked. Or perhaps it did not look that way at all, for I could not claim to see anything. It took me a few seconds to realize that the whole campus was experiencing a power cut. As I ambled on roomwards, with the support of the wall, I reached the outing towards the terrace, or the 'Titanic', to speak colloquially (The architect here displayed some very obvious emotional influences from James Cameron's masterpiece. Hint: Think of the I am the king of the world scene).

I looked out and started onto the terrace. It was a sight I had perhaps never seen in Mumbai. A night sky unpolluted, uninhibited by any sort of light, or buildings, skyscrapers, skylines. The stars twinkled in thousands, millions. There were no neon signs to distract. Moonlight was still nascent, growing with each night. The clouds had also spared the skies on this instance. It was just the stars, the moon and the night sky. No lights except for a lonely motorbike rider near Nescafe.

A group of seniors gathered on after a few seconds.

"Beautiful", I heard that muttered somewhere. Could not agree more. Beautiful, astounding, confusing, flabbergasting, discombobulating and all the other unpronounceable adjectives you can think of. It was the beauty of eternity and infinity. And this beauty is frightening. You never know when eternity will end. You can never guess the boundaries of infinity. Until ofcourse you consider chocolate cakes...... To get a better idea, imagine an infinitely long chocalate cake and time you would take to eat it all. Also consider all the indigestion you would have to suffer if the chocolate cake is made in the mess. All this chocolate cake stuff quickly put a lot of perspective on my appetite for deserts. It disappeared faster than the sputtering electricity supply to a certain management institute in Northern India.

Beauty, especially that which challenges all your concepts of proportion, either degenerates all thoughts in vicinity to poetic enchantment or drains all the guarded optimism you had been preserving for such a day. Believe me it is a shitty feeling to think about the cosmic importance of 'Effects of changes in the foreign exchange rates - European and Indian Accounting Standards' while watching more than an eyeful of stars staring smugly at you. This leads to cynicism about the whole process of living in general or begets creative rationalizations about the importance of accounting standards in alien galaxies. Both of which are not good thoughts to have when a host of quizzes are lined up for the coming week.....

The power was back in two minutes. Everyone trundled back to their rooms. I did too. I was bit disconcerted, for I had seen something obvious. Something so obvious, that I had never seen it ever before. Something so obvious that its better left ignored. It will take some time to recede into mundanity but I will succeed....

To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain, but to his satisfaction he realized that he had proved conclusively that if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.

Life starts

[Post incomplete, no intention ever to get down to completing it!]

"We have to write our CV's.. Find your (tor)mentors".

It started with this. Phone calls, engaged, busy, not available... Call again.

"You are not going for the health run ! First go there and then come for getting the CVs checked"

The 'Health' Run involved running around 2 rounds of the ring road which is loong (3 kms is a conservative guess I think!) and being all happy and cool about it while your seniors snapped your photographs riding bikes. It also involved the pretty 'healthy' aspect of getting cramps in your feet good enough to trouble you for the whole of the next day.

The more than healthy over, I call again. Meet.
"This is childish."
"You expect someone to believe this!"
"Don't tell me you call this an ethical mistake!"

Everything short of tear this sheet away and get lost! After begging, borrowing and some (unsuccessful) attempts at forging signatures, finally submitted the CVs exactly at 12.00. Whew! This work is done. Now I can rest.

" You heard about the case discussion tomorrow ?"

Whaaat!

Skitter of to the CC. Read the case till I hear the mynahs chirping.

"We also have a test later on!"

Meanwhile the 8-hour per day registration modules are on! Goodbye sleep!

Case over! Test over! Time for sleeping....

"Get your groups together. There is a presentation tomorrow."
Phone calls, meetings, presentations prepared...

Registrations started too. It was then that I understood the institute's way of inculcating physical fitness. I stared unbelievably at the pile of books kept on the desk. It took my brain some time to comprehend the ingenious plan that they had in hand. Two days of doing this, and all my cultivated and preserved flab of 21 years will go down the drain.

Anyway, presentations or the rather 'we will have fun at your expense' ragging sessions were done with before we were called for a batch meeting.

Now was the time when the results would be announced, as to who got in which section!

[In the interests of preserving sanity and some traditions, I will leave the story here!]