Vitamin B and Malaria!

I am sure that looks like a complete mismatch. If you observe keenly though, some of the best partnerships have blossomed due to the union of absolutely contrasting characters; sometimes diametrically opposite.

This happened about 7 years from now. Social media was in its infancy, at least in India. The thrill of internet communication was in writing mails and chatting. Yahoo messenger seemed to have a reservation on each desktop we could see.

As we were good at studies, my lazy friends and the lazier I would know that we had to do some serious work in the last week before the exam if we had to pass. Our belief in crisis management, as MBA students, was paramount. We would allocate a few chapters to each one of us, then get into a joint discussion and teach each other. This would somehow ensure that we pass the exams. 

It was during one such stay at a friend’s place at around 11 p.m. that this happened. I am very fond of books and reading. The only issue is that they would invariably not be the books I needed to study for my exams.

The books that I needed to go through for my exams had immense power of hypnotism. They could put me to sleep in less than 15 minutes. I was at the verge of coming out of such a hypnotic session when I saw this.

My friend, whose bed I was comfortably sleeping on, was typing away hysterically on his computer, without a care in the world. Intrigued by this rather unusual behavior, I went near his desktop to see him frantically pressing the keys on his keyboard. The monitor showed Yahoo messenger and what I saw next had me in splits. I was laughing like a mad man and he had no clue what happened to me. The laughter wouldn’t die down but in its midst, I asked him, “Why do you call yourself Vitamin B”? I mean who on earth would have such a name on Yahoo messenger.

My very sporting friend saw my humour and laughed along. After it settled, he said that he was talking to his girlfriend who was in London. She was to take Vitamin B tablets thrice a day but she used to forget it often. The unusual name on Yahoo messenger was to gently remind her that she had to take these tablets. My laughter died its natural death and a sense of embarrassment took over. I was laughing at, possibly, one of the best romantic acts in history. My respect for this friend grew manifold.

A year from that incident, and again we were to have our final examinations. Nothing had changed but the year. We were all unprepared, scouting around for notes, question paper samples etc. To compound the myriad problems, this friend of mine was down with Malaria. I was studying hard when my mobile phone rang. It was a call from London. I recognized the voice. It was the lady from London for whom my friend had become Vitamin B. She told me that Malaria had not allowed him to study and requested me if I could help him out with some of the chapters. She was too concerned and did not hesitate to ask me to help him out.

Not only I, but our group of friends did help him and we all did well. In those two years at college, I saw six couple going around – all happy together. Not one of those relationships lasted the two years of the course.

And then there was this couple. They weren’t in the same college, not even in the same city or country. Yet, they were together all the time, celebrating each other’s joys, overcoming each other’s sorrows. I think they are a role model for most people who fall in love these days – for getting into a relationship is not difficult but ensuring that it sustains is.

The couple I am talking about is my friends Dinakar Menon and Snehal Thakur who celebrate their third wedding anniversary today. I wish them all the very best and many more years of togetherness. Romantic tales are not my forte, so if you like something I write in this genre, the credit goes to couple like them who I am fortunate to know. 

The Unwanted Child and the Quirks of Destiny!

Aarti was weeping while she caressed her son’s hair. He was in deep sleep; rather made to sleep. Sleep was far better than the pain he had to endure. His stomach pain made his life awful. It was one of those rare illnesses that occurred and affected one in more than a million. He was however, not one in a million; may be in Aarti’s eyes but definitely not otherwise.

Aarti and her husband had brought him up with all the luxuries that they could afford. Her husband’s business had been flourishing. When they brought him up, they knew he would inherit the business and take it to greater heights. As he started growing older, he left very less doubt in their minds about him being the absolutely undeserving of the inheritance. He had given them fair share of troubles and very less joy in comparison.

Nonetheless, she stood by his bed hoping for his speedy recovery. The doctors had declared that his chances of surviving were bleak. She, being the mother, hoped against hope that some miracle would snatch her son from the jaws of death and put him back into her lap. Whenever any doctor or medical representative as well as some of her all-knowing relatives would talk to her, the name Dr. Jyoti would often crop up. She was the messiah Aarti required now as per her relatives.

Dr. Jyoti had been out of the country to attend a medical conference. She was one of the young achievers felicitated by the Chief Minister of the State recently for her noteworthy accomplishments in the profession. Though yet to reach 30 years of age, she was mature, wiser and as her colleagues would say “a gift to the medical profession”.

When Dr. Jyoti was contacted, she got the reports of the patient faxed to her hotel room and went through it at night. She was scheduled to land in the city in the next 48 hours. Dr. Jyoti’s talent was punctuated by her ethics and discipline. She knew that if the patient had to survive, she had to rush to the hospital from the airport and operate him in the wee hours of the morning itself.

While most doctors had given up, Dr. Jyoti was a rare kind. She had not given up on anything in life. She had her share of struggles but she fought through all of them bravely. She was an epitome of strength and endurance. She was sure that she would operate the patient and save his life. She conveyed the message to the doctors, who in turn conveyed to Aarti that her son would be operated on in the next 48 hours. Aarti had mixed feelings – happiness because Dr. Jyoti would try to treat her son and sad because the odds were heavily stacked against her son.

As Dr. Jyoti readied herself for her long flight back home and knew that she will have to rush straight to the hospital, she decided to call her favourite person in the world – her mother. An irresponsible father who left her when she was just six years old left the onus of her upbringing on Dr. Jyoti’s mother. She struggled hard to ensure that Jyoti’s education kept going. She aligned her dreams with Jyoti’s and worked hard to provide her all the support. Dr. Jyoti knew very well that her mother is instrumental in enabling her add the “very respectable” prefix to her name.

She told her about the serious case that had come up. She conveyed that she will reach home only in the afternoon, even though she would land in the city in the early hours of the morning. The telephonic conversation got over fast and Dr. Jyoti left for the airport.

Aarti spend the next 36 hours visiting various temples and offerings alms. She forced herself to believe that such good deeds would save her son. She was very tired at the end of the day but did not even think of sleeping. She was back to her son’s bedside. It made her very uncomfortable to see him writhing in pain.

It is in such helpless times that your conscience throws questions at you. Aarti was no different. She could still vividly remember the night around 30 years ago when she was pregnant. It was the only time she was pregnant. She was told by the doctors that she wouldn’t be able to conceive again. She and her husband knew that they wanted a “boy”. Of course, with her husband being the only son, the in-laws and relatives were also expecting a “boy” – the one who heralds the family legacy. They couldn’t even imagine a girl child coming into the house.

Aarti and her husband were doing well in life, even then. The hospital where she was to deliver was run by her friend. The nurses, doctors etc. were her good friends. While she was being admitted, she also saw a lady admitted to her adjacent bed. She knew this lady was a domestic help in her vicinity. She was illiterate and worked as a domestic help in various houses to make ends meet.

When both of them delivered and Aarti delivered a girl, she managed to bribe the nurses to get her child exchanged with the baby boy delivered by the maid. She was sure the maid was illiterate and could be tricked into believing that she had delivered a baby girl. And Aarti was right. The maid was happy to have the baby girl in her arms. Aarti took the baby boy home and all was well.

Since then, the incident was not something Aarti would recall often. Her brain however, remembered the incident vividly. She relived it today and was wondering what happened to the baby girl she actually delivered. Was it the curse of the baby that she was enduring now? Was her son’s bad behavior, poor academic record and drug addiction a consequence of her gory act?

She would have believed it was if her son would not have survived the next day. So, did he survive? As she was lost in thoughts with a forlorn expression decorating her face, she lost track of time. Dr. Jyoti had arrived. Aarti just stared at a beautiful lady; strikingly similar to her were Dr. Jyoti’s smile and eyes but she seemed to be much more confident and positive about her son’s chances of survival.

After a few reassuring words and an endearing smile, Dr. Jyoti walked into the operation theatre. The door closed behind her and a chill ran down Aarti’s spine. Will he survive?

Aarti just sat on the chair near the operation theatre. She was so lost that she did not even realize when she went off to sleep. When she woke up, she saw an old lady sitting besides her. She had a soothing expression on her face, as if she knew everything would be fine. As her vision became clear, she could recollect seeing this face. She just wasn’t able to tell.

And then she got her answer. She felt almost paralyzed. It was this very lady whose baby she had exchanged with her new born. She gently asked her, “Who are you?” The lady could have given the answer in a sentence but she chose to weave a story that took about an hour to complete. When she was about to finish, the door opened and out walked Dr. Jyoti. She headed to Aarti and said that her son was safe now. She offered her some advice on the kind of care that needs to be taken over the next few weeks. As soon as she finished, she hugged the lady besides Aarti, introducing her as her mother and they walked away.

Aarti was unable to speak. It slowly but surely dawned on her that Dr. Jyoti was her biological child, the child she didn’t want; rather the one she chose to let go in favour of someone else’s son.

The quirks of destiny taught her the most precious lesson of her life. She didn’t want this girl and it is she who stood by her in her most testing time.

There are many Aarti’s in our society today. Many who will willingly give away their girl if they could get a boy – to continue their family tradition, to keep the family legacy going. Of course, Aarti is not the only one to be blamed. There is immense family pressure on most of these Aartis.

Was Aarti’s decision to take a boy home worth it? Would she have not been the proudest mother today if she would be recognized as Dr. Jyoti’s mother? Our progressive country is plagued with female infanticide, feticides and even exchanging baby girls for someone’s boy.

It is better to get rid of this mindset as it will only lead to disappointments – Aarti being a case in point. 

The Best Birthday Gift!

She was waiting for this day for a long time. Most people live one-third of their lives in 25 years so it is not a short duration by any stretch of imagination. If we assume 75 years as the life span of a human being and split it into three phases, 25-50 (the second phase) would be the years when they find their calling, do something worthwhile and make an identity.

She was no different. From her teenage years, she used to teach students to make ends meet. However, it was not just a source of income. For her, the “joy” of enabling children to read, write and discover new things was above all. It was her nirvana.

A week from today, she will be entering the third phase mentioned in the first paragraph. So, has she made herself an identity? Has she found her calling? Well almost.

It was her dream, from as long as she can remember, to create an institution where learning is fun, where children feel they are playing and learning just happens as part of the process. The deadline that she had set for herself was a week from now – on her 50^th birthday.

However, her saving which she had gathered for over 25 years wasn’t enough. She spent on her family, her children, her siblings, their children, their marriages and other occasions. Through she rarely spent on herself, her selflessness towards the well being of her near and dear ones meant that she has not saved enough to create this institution - the school of her Dreams!

Her supportive husband helped her and so did her children with whatever they could. Her goodwill was such that the students she taught (who had become engineers, managers etc.) came forward helping with some money. Everything was in place but she wanted the school of her dreams to have all the facilities. And, she was sure she did not want to extract money in the form of donations and deposit to build this institution. “All help should be voluntary and from the heart”, she often said and would abide by it.

The situation as it stands now – a week to go and she required about 3 lakh rupees for ensuring the amenities she has in mind for the students who would attend on the first day at her dream school. She could have called a few of her students who were doing very well in life. They would have happily given the money but her self-esteem got the better of her.

Will she win the race against time? Will she be able to inaugurate this school on the said day? The students had already enrolled and for the students, she would settle for nothing but the best.

With five days to go, she decided to sell her gold and raise half the amount. She wondered where the remaining would come from. She couldn’t hear the doorbell ring twice as she was lost in thoughts. The doorbell’s non-stop repetition was symbolic of the impatience of the person at the other end. She quickly gathered herself and made her way to the door. She opened it and found a courier for her. The sender was from a village in Vijepur, Almora district, Uttaranchal. The sender chose to stay anonymous.

The person who bought the courier was getting impatient so she acknowledged the receipt. She closed the door and opened the envelope. What she saw surprised her to no end. A State Bank of India cheque of five lakh Rupees was staring at her. She was in Mumbai for more than three decades now. She had never been to North India. She had never heard of a village called Vijepur. Who was this anonymous sender and why would he send this amount? She peeped into the envelope once again to find a neatly written letter. It read

“

Respected Ma’am,

The school of your dreams will be a blessing to the students. They will grow into well-informed and educated youth that our country can rely upon. I have always wanted to contribute to the growth of my country and I am sure, this is one of the best ways. I wish to stay anonymous for some more time but I assure you that I will come and meet you soon. I wish you all the very best for this school and hope more people like you are born each year so that the world becomes a happier place.”

Yours obediently,

__________.

“

With not much option left, she decided to encash the amount and her school was set to roll a day before her 50^th birthday. True to her nature, she didn’t seek publicity by having celebrities or political heavyweights come and inaugurate it. Her 75 year old mother did the honours. She sought her blessings. Many of her students shared the proud moment. They had come from various parts of India and abroad to congratulate her on this very special day. She was overwhelmed but managed to stop her tears of joy from rolling down her cheeks.

She received the congratulatory messages, shake-hands and hugs from most of her students and when almost all of them were done, she saw a man in his late twenties. He was dressed in neat formals, well-combed hair and a glow on the face punctuated his appearance.

“Well done! Ma’am. I am very proud of you!” said the young man. She failed to recollect who he was but he helped her out of the emotional quagmire. I am Rajesh, son of Shivlal Yadav, the mali (gardener) near the public garden in your house. If you recollect, you saw my interest in getting educated and taught me for free. You taught me till the time I was here without charging any fee. You lent me books and taught me everything. You made me good enough to clear my class X exams.

It hurt my conscience bad that I couldn’t come to see you as I had to leave for my native place in a hurry. My mother was very ill and we had to leave overnight. When we reached our village the next day, she died. I couldn’t talk to her. The sadness and the fact that I couldn’t meet you depressed me a lot. We had to stay back in our village as my father had to now take care of my siblings. I channeled all my energies to academics and I am the first person from my village to be a post graduate.”

The teacher and her student both had tears in their eyes by now. The student continued “I did pick up odd jobs, teach students etc. to make ends meet. We set up a restaurant in Almora which my siblings run and we are doing quite well now. My father helps in the business and we are financially sound.”

“So, do you run the restaurant, are you in-charge of the day-to-day affairs?” she asked proudly. The young man curtsied as he replied, “No Ma’am. I appeared and cleared the IAS exam. Today, I am an IAS officer and earn a lot of respect.”

 He touched her feet and gave her the credit for his accomplishments. “I had sent the cheque that you received some days back. This card has my name and number. Please do reach me anytime you need any administrative help with regards to the school. It will be my honour to contribute towards this great institution that you are trying to build.  I have been silently tracking your life. I knew that you would require money for the scale of institution that you plan to build. My only concern was if the amount would be sufficient.”

Her joy knew no bounds. She has taught him for free because she saw in him the unquenchable thirst for knowledge. And, today he had paid her over ten times in money terms and a zillion times in happiness.

Her fiftieth birthday had become more special than she ever imagined. This was definitely the BEST BIRTHDAY Gift, she had ever received! She would cherish this till her last breath.

Relieving Letter

He had met her earlier. But he never felt for her that way. Actually it was she who had given him the offer letter when he joined the firm. However, his thoughts then were only about doing his job well, succeeding and creating new benchmarks. The ambition, passion, and will power were very much intact; albeit channeled towards attaining goals he has set for himself; professionally.

The above traits combined with perseverance and single minded dedication ensured that he rose - in salary, designation and stature. He was soon heading a function. He was the “go-to-man” for his seniors as well as for many key officials in the organization.

And then, one fine day, he was offered a better, more strategic role by another organization. He was comfortable here but the fire in him dint wane one bit. He was still game for newer challenges and tougher responsibilities. A serious battle ensued wherein his pragmatism plundered his emotions of attachment to the organization and he decided to put in his papers.

The organization was desperate to retain him as he was great at work, interpersonal skills, teamwork, and most importantly, he was honest and sincere. It was difficult to find many like him hence a replacement would take time. His notice period of two months was not a “honeymoon period” as some would put it. There were days in the first week of the notice period wherein he was in the office into the late hours of the night. He wouldn't compromise on his honesty and work ethics to the very last day.

Throughout his professional life, he made it a point to reach office early, start clearing his mails and plan the day ahead. He was to write a copy for an advertisement on a “perfume brand” which his team was struggling with. Two days into it and neither neither his team nor he could think of something worth what they were charging the client. He was looking around for inspiration and that’s when she walked in. He has interacted with her, even had the occasional friendly banter with her but never did he pay much heed. He had seen her many times but today he observed.

He could see the brown eyes which seemed like symmetric buttons, the swirl in the lips which parted just enough to flash her pearly whites. He felt like he heard every alphabet of the “Good morning” she said to a colleague. Her voice had a soothing effect he never felt before. Her hair was no less than a serene waterfall to him. In the confines of his cubicle, he felt light, elated, and mesmerized. “He felt like heaven”. The words made a seamless journey from his sub-conscious mind to his brain and he got his line. “Feels like heaven” read the headline of his copy.

How could I have ignored her for so long? And yet another line came to him. “Ignorance is not Bliss”, he told himself. And for some strange reason, the lines that came to him were matching the task at hand. “Ignorance is not bliss” did go well for his product; though it was tweaked a little to read “Ignoring this is not bliss”.

He jotted the lines quickly and then stared at her again. By this time, she had settled and was logging into her workstation. One great thing about this guy was determination. If he made up his mind, there was no stopping him. He had made up his mind. He was convinced about this being a moment of truth. He knew that this lady needed to be by his side. And then it dawned to him that he had only seven weeks to convince her to be – his better half.

That was just one part of his problem though. He had never even bothered to find out if she was married. It was clear to him that this would be his final project before leaving the organization and he also knew that if he were to pull this off, it would need immaculate planning and execution.

His way of handling a project was unique. He spent a lot of time studying and planning the project. He had to have it clear in his head before he would head to execution. And this was a project where he couldn't afford a lapse.

The first week was sieving through all the information available across the organization. He would make it a point to intersect her path, have a few words, anything to get to know if she is still a spinster. Success came to him at the end of the week when a casual chat with a colleague lead to him knowing her marital status. And it was a great feeling for obvious reasons!

The next three weeks were spent understanding if she was going around with someone and he slowly but surely succeeded in getting the answers he expected to get for this question as well. It was the beginning of his last three weeks in office when she, being in the personnel department, approached him for help with creating an email campaign for an employee awareness project she was working on.

“Hi, I would need your help. Can you help me out with this campaign?” she said, pointing to a few papers which she placed on his desk. His eyes looked down and his mind focused up to the heavens, wondering if the Almighty was helping him in his pet project. He put his heart into the project, literally, and the resultant email campaign was well-appreciated and the lady won lot of kudos for it.

With two weeks left, the lady came to him to express her appreciation for his support. “I am so glad you helped. The results are there for all to see. I did get a lot of appreciation for this. Thank you so much. If I could be of any help to you, let me know,” she said. He was not someone who would react impulsively but something came over him and he said he needed some help right away. He told her about the inspiration behind “feels like heaven” and “ignorance in not bliss”. The words seemed to flow and he used the next 10 minutes to present the most convincing pitch of his life.

She was tongue-tied. He could not comprehend if she was shocked, surprised, expecting this or in a state of trance. She remained in this state for what seemed like eternity before uttering a sentence. “I.. I.. I..ne..never thought of you this way.”

There are some days when you are so spontaneous that you could have not needed any meticulous planning to succeed. It was such a day for him. He told her that neither did he ever think of her all these years but that day had to be special. He could feel his pulse rate and heart beat for the first time, he could feel every second tick by, every word uttered by her was registered in his mind and he was sure that she had blinked 10 times on her way from the door to the workstation. To add what he thought would be a knockout punch, he said that those 10 seconds were the best in his life and he would want to relive it infinitely. And if he had to relive it even once, she had to be with him.

He wasn't sure of the effect it had on her. She chose the traditional “I need time to think” answer and excused herself. If those 10 seconds were the best, the next two weeks would be the longest. The last week was usually about good-byes and exit formalities and he was aware of that. He told himself that if he was to get an affirmative reply from her, one that he desperately sought, it had to be in the current week. By mid-week, his patience was getting the better of him and he went to her workstation to have a word.

“I know smart girls like you think on your feet”, he said. He told her that he thought she would have made up her mind by now. She said she was really busy and requested if they could talk later.

He tried to not disturb her and overdo the follow up. The next day, he went to her again asking if she would join him for coffee. This time, she just glanced and conveyed her lack of interest. But he was not one who would easily give up.

Some handover processes consumed his Friday and thoughts, restlessness, impatience and frustration consumed his weekend. However, he was known for thinking positive and not once, did he feel that he would fail in this project.

The first three days of the final week required him to attend meeting where the company wanted to seek his inputs and suggestions on upcoming project. They were unintentionally being very rude to him. “Thursday” it would be, he told himself.

On Thursday, he came in earlier than usual. He waited in anticipation to see her come in but he was never rewarded with that glimpse for all his efforts. To his utter dismay, he got to know that she was on leave. Would she come the next day? With great difficulty, he did something which came very easily to him otherwise – Suppress the pessimist within.

On Friday morning, he came in very early, drafted his farewell mail and again spent time waiting for her. Her peach-complexioned face and brown hair was all he could see from where he was seated as she walked in through the door. He was sure that he had to talk to her. He was wondering if she was not interested. Was she apprehensive because he wasn't rich? He wanted to tell her that he owned a house and had saved a good amount over the last ten years. A zillion thoughts ran though his mind as he approached her.

If you were to choose between “Yes” and “can’t say no”, what would it be? She knew where he was heading but she liked the style. She flashed a smile and raised one of her eyebrows in a seemingly friendly gesture. She even went out for coffee with him but she kept the balance hanging. She said she was short-tempered, lacked patience, was very moody and couldn't talk well unlike him. He said he covered these qualities so she wouldn't have to bother about those. His answers were so prompt that it seemed he had practiced these situations. She was convinced that his intent was honest, his attempts were sincere.

They dint get much time to interact later as he had colleagues, well-wishers and team-mates chatting with him and wishing him luck. And then it was the last hour of the day and then the last few minutes.

She came to him with an envelope which seemed to contain a piece of paper. Through the window of the envelope, he could see his name in block letters. It was his relieving letter. She handed it to him. He said,” I will need your mobile number? How can I reach you and get to know your decision”?

“You won’t need my number”, she said with a wry smile, turned and walked away. He already had her number but he somehow wanted the answer to the bigger question, probably the most important one in his head right now.

He was dejected when he opened the envelope. He knew that the relieving letter was not going to provide any relief. Uninterested, he peeped in to find two pieces of paper. One was obviously the relieving letter but the other was a neatly typed one in size 12, Verdana font and it read as below:

“My only concern with you was to find out if your attempt was honest. I was always convinced about you as a person. I believe that a man’s true riches are his potential and his attitude and if I were to grade you for these, you would rank very high. If you still haven’t guessed my answer, you can try new ways of convincing me. My mobile number is: 9XXXXXXXXX”…

His mind wasn't even reading further. It was somewhere else. This was, literally and in every sense of the word, the “RELIEVING LETTER”.

Dumb Blonde

She climbed into the bus and all eyes looked at her. The beautiful dress, the cascading hair, and the faultless face contributed to her painting like appearance. The word “Perfect” seemed to resonate throughout the bus.

She seated her majestic self in the first few rows to the left of the air-conditioned bus – the ones normally reserved for ladies. Her Smartphone quickly came into business and connected her to someone (not really important in context). The rare beauty’s hair was a stand-out feature. It’s not often that you would get to see blonde hair color in India.

Seated just behind her was a smartly dressed man. He seemed to be an absolute gentleman, atleast by the look of it.

Diagonally opposite to the centre of attraction sat a person of African origin who seemed to be listening to songs on his mobile while also typing something.  

Suddenly, the gentleman started talking to her. Flattery was definitely one of his virtues. His smooth talk and easy charm saw him easily floor the blonde. His compliments seemed to have an effect on her and she also opened up to him. And small talk soon made way for laughter and some light flirting.

Though the bus was moving, it maintained a serene status quo inside. The rest of the passengers were listening to songs, reading, or sleeping.

The couple had struck a chord and seemed to be oblivious to the happenings in the bus. The African gentleman though, seemed to be intently looking at the couple, overhearing the conversation. It was tough to understand how he could understand the local language that the familiar strangers were using abundantly to spice up their rendezvous.  

The scene continued for another ten minutes while the bus gathered good speed. “I have to get down at the next stop. It was a pleasure meeting you”, said the gentleman to the lady. They seemed to exchange numbers and he promised to call her sometime soon.

“Is the African gentleman taking my pictures?” she asked the gentlemen just minutes before he was to alight. The easy charm gave way to a difficult-to-comprehend expression. However, he quickly regained composure and said that as soon as he gets down and the bus stops, the lady should call the co-passengers and raise this concern. He said that if her observation was true, she should give him a call and he would intimate the cops who can catch hold of him at the next bus stop.  He went to the extent of saying not to confront the African gentleman as he may retaliate and also might have a gun with him.

The blonde followed his advice and as soon as the gentleman disembarked, she called upon the fellow passengers and told that the African gentleman was capturing her pictures. She said she was scared as she thought he would morph her pictures and use it for personal gain.

The passengers gathered around the African gentleman and demanded he show his mobile. They asked him why he was taking her pictures. He did not answer inspite of a volley of questions being fired in his direction. The situation was getting out of control and one of the co-passengers who fantasized playing the knight-in-shining-armour caught hold of the collar of his shirt. At this moment, the African gentleman opened his mouth and started uttering something. It was at that moment that the passengers realized that the man was dumb. (as in a person who is unable to speak).

At this, one of the passengers wanted to snatch his mobile but the African gentleman started frantically nodding his head. The cumulative strength of the passengers was no match for the strong African man. They snatched his mobile and as two people held him captive, one of the passengers (the knight-in-shining-armour) caught hold of the mobile and began to browse through the image gallery.

He could not find a single image of the majestic beauty. He checked the videos and his expression suggested that he had found a related video.  In a display of machismo (uncalled for), the knight-in-shining-armour caught hold of the African man’s collar again as he played the video with his other hand.

As the video played, his grip on the collar loosened and slowly he withdrew his hand. The knight-in-shining-armour understood his mistake and profusely apologized to the African gentleman. The sudden twist of events had the passengers also confused.

The video was replayed and the blonde also saw it this time. No sooner did the video end than she looked for her branded and very expensive handbag. She started crying loudly and tears started rolling down her pretty cheeks. She had been conned… conned by the smooth talking charmer who has opened her bag and stolen her purse which, according to her, contained not only lots of money but 3 of her credit cards.

The African man received a lot of sympathy with some passengers offering him water and the mini mob apologizing to him for the unwarranted manhandling. The obvious question was why he did not alert his fellow passengers when the act took place?  He couldn’t answer it as he was dumb. Or was he really? For his act gathered enough evidence to nail a crook. On the other hand, the blonde who thought she was smart (atleast appeared to be) proved otherwise. Dumb blonde, shall we say?

The Marriage of the decade (2011-2020)

I am not here to talk about marriages. I am no expert on it and am lucky to be married to a wonderful lady. What I am talking about comes from my experience of working on marketing strategies for an IT services firm and some observations. The views may look a bit premature. I am sure there will be counter opinion and would be glad to listen to all the constructive criticism and comments around the view.

I have been hearing a lot about technical consultant, functional consultants, business analysts et al. I think for most meetings with customers, a combination of personnel with functional and technical expertise is required to “go for the kill” or close deals using a consultative approach. This potent combination can clear all doubts in the customers’ mind and clinch the deal to offer solutions required by the customer.

But where is Information Technology moving? It is an era of quick decision, quick strategies, quicker execution and even quicker results. The time to analyze, ponder, plan, etc. is hard to find.

With the advent of Big Data and Analytics, almost all unstructured data can also be put into formats which will make them meaningful for decision making. Imagine if all structured and unstructured data is available for decision-making; does it make life easy or difficult?

It depends on the human mind to which this is facilitated after all. Let’s leave it at that. Now, customers of tomorrow with Big Data, social media and the likes will have an information overload. The meeting of IT Services companies with customers would be to offer comprehensive IT services from Database to Middleware to Applications, to Business Solutions to Business Intelligence and this too would be passé in no time.

Though the last element in the list, i.e. business intelligence, becomes key to how things may evolve. Let us take an example, imagine an IT Services company using a consultative approach to provide solutions for a Pharmaceutical company. While it will be able to create application, plant management systems, trackers etc., it might also offer to predict the best price point at which the new drug should sell in a particular market?

This is where the Marriage will happen. Marketing will play a key role in the new generation IT service firms. How?

The meetings would have a Technical expert talking on systems, a functional expert talking on the domain and a marketing expert talking on how to leverage all this and launch services/ products. It will predict everything from price points, to time of launch, to target market, avenues to maximize sales.  

And that to me will be the Marriage of the Decade. 

IT Services firms will evolve into Comprehensive IT services players + marketing consultancies. The following predictions can be made (I am not a thought leader hence not to be held responsibleJ):

• The IT services providers which are more contemporary and allow this inter-caste, inter-religion marriage will do better than the traditional ones
• Technologies such as Big Data and Business Intelligence will ensure a seamless marriage
• The internet will host the marriage ceremony and all netizens from across the globe will grace the occasion
• IT Services firms which open its doors to this couple will be the pioneers of a new era in IT services
• Now, if we look at this from a career perspective, a thin line will separate marketing and IT. Professionals who have a fair idea of marketing and also understand a bit of IT will be in demand (selfish interest here)
• We will see IT companies playing a major role in test marketing, Product Planning, Marketing intelligence and insights, Market Research, and will give insights into segmentation, targeting, positioning etc.

 So, when will this marriage happen? As early as we allow it, because if we are stubborn and stick to our traditional values, this very modern and happening couple will elope before we even realize it. 

The "PARKING LOT" Principle

I had a tough time reaching office this Thursday with two hours and a bit more in a not so comfortable bus. It felt like a bullock cart ride, thanks to the competition between the potholes and the traffic, each trying to outdo the other in delaying the journey.

After the struggle, I managed to walk into the office building and a colleague of mine was parking his car. After the customary “Good morning” and “how are you”, he asked me a question.

He asked, “How do you come to know how much a company pays its employees, how do you judge if they pay as per industry standards?” I thought he was asking me this question because my profile involves web communications and leveraging social media.

I replied promptly that you can go on websites such as www.glassdoor.com , www.payscale.com etc. and check out what is posted there. It will give you a fair idea.

He told me that all you need to do is check the Parking lot of the companies. Depending on the cars parked in the parking lot, you could actually gauge the pay scale and then map it as per the level you are selected for.

 I tried to visualize the parking space of organizations I have been to and tried to apply this. Hence was born the “Parking Lot Principle”.

This excellent learning was enough to recharge my batteries and I was looking forward to doing great work. I believe, sometimes, great ideas, observations etc. at the beginning of the day might help employees put behind hectic travel and other such problems encountered before reaching work and contribute to the fullest. It had that effect on me. It is just such sparks that ignite the interest in work and help individuals put in their best.

If such sparks are provided every day, I believe the results will be overwhelming. I am sure, The “Parking Lot Principle” is surely one such example.  

Rain Rain Go Away (Perspective of a Mumbaikar travelling to office)

Rain Rain go away,

Please don’t ruin our day.

Our travel schedule has gone astray,

Please respond to our collective bray.

Rain Rain go away,

Don’t make us sit in a bus all day,

If we could bribe you, w’d surely pay,

To allow us reach office as dry as hay.

Rain Rain go away,

Don’t put our lives into such disarray,

Unlike Johny, we need to get our pay,

We ought to go to work anyway.

Rain Rain go away,

Don’t try to put our spirit to slay,

Endeavor as hard as you may,

In a few weeks, you won’t have your say. 

100 yards of potholes

The genesis of this blogpost is attributed to my colleague Preethi Menon, who offers me a lift back home to Navi Mumbai from Andheri where we work. Every day, we have to go through a long stretch on Jogeshwari Vikhroli Link road (JVLR as it is popularly known). Last week, while the car was moving at snail’s pace, we were deliberating on why the traffic would move slowly till we could see L&T and then it would start to ease out. My opinion was that the road is narrower till L&T and is broad after that. She told that it is because of a 100 yards of potholes and suggested to me that I should consider writing an article on this.

The thought has lingered in my head ever since. I was wondering if “100 yards of potholes “could be of any significance. I am a marketing and communications professional so of course, first thought would go in that direction.

To the marketing person in me, it seems like every person passing the area stops and pays respect to a giant conglomerate called “L&T”. I wonder how many who pass that area might actually be shareholders of L&T. I am sure L&T has become a part of everyday conversations of the lives of the people passing that stretch. I am tempted to think that Powai is a talking point because of that stretch and talks about traffic near L&T only did good for the brand.

If I were to try personification with the “100 yards of potholes”, it is probably a philosopher telling fast moving Mumbai to slow down and take it easy. To introspect and then move ahead. In collaboration with the better stretch of road near Powai lake, it might be giving a message that after “100 yards of potholes” (troubles, hindrances, struggle et. al.), a smooth ride could be expected not only in Powai but also in life. There isn’t much I can talk on Philosophy so I stop here.

Now the business angle. While the cars slow down there, many vendors selling groundnuts are a common sight. If we are to take the number of cars that get stuck in peak hours, even if a small percentage of people manage to buy this offering, the “100 yards of potholes” are a means of livelihood. It is an instant shop, much like a drive through McDonalds.

“100 yards of potholes” also highlights the importance of maintenance of resources to avoid sluggish progress. It also enables us to think of what elected politicians and governments have done. As it is perennial in nature and does not cease to exist (whatever the season may be), it raises its ugly head to stand as a harbinger of false promises that the government and elected representatives made. If it has not been looked at or repaired for many years, its life is symbolic of how our elected representatives address problems.

“100 yards of potholes” is a boon for tyre manufacturers and suppliers of fuel. It seems to freelance for them and gets good commission as it contributes to augmenting the requirement of tyres and fuel.

In essence, the “100 yards of potholes” epitomizes everything from corruption to poverty, to opportunities and valuable lessons. Long live the “100 yards of potholes”: I wish I could say this but I don’t wish for this wish to come true.