Sunday, November 19, 2017

An Obituary, a Note and a moment of reflection

In Death, life comes a full circle. The angel of Death is that uninvited guest whom we all know is going to come but we are never prepared to meet him; nevertheless, when he pays our dear ones a visit, it gets us thinking on many a thing!

One of my uncles passed away a few days ago. His body was consumed by his age and to say it benignly, he left the world in peace without being a burden to anyone just as he had willed.
He is perhaps one person whom I have shared a very special bond – not least because of the ties of kinship – for we had three generations between us that drew us miles apart. With his other siblings, save my own grandmother, I hardly remember even having a proper conversation. Yet in a strange play of events, I got to spend some quality time with him and in the process helped discover a whole new meaning to life.

I vividly remember the first proper conversation I had with him; I was about to go to high school and had moved to India. He was to be my local guardian as he was living in Chennai then. He enquired if I read newspapers. He was known to be a man of letters. So, it was with a lot of pride I answered, I do, for I had at that time started reading a bit, primarily because that appeared to be a means to develop the English language as per my Teachers.

Then came the next question – how many? I was perplexed. To read one was the best I thought. It was only then I discovered that the man read half a dozen or so from top to bottom and left to right. I was only beginning to understand the grip he had on language, current affairs and a whole gamut of things that came under the sun.

Over the next few years, I used to occasionally visit him as he was my local guardian. It was during those moments that I started getting to know him better. Having fully retired from his professional life, he was left with quality free time to spend which I was blessed to be a part of.

I went from high school to College and the visits only increased in frequency. During the college years, I remember trying to read as much as possible before going to meet him just to try and impress him but every time I would come back needing to do a lot more homework!

And then after my college years, there was a good half year before joining work. It was during this time, that I spend the most of my time with him. With age, he had lost his ability to read small letters. So, I was to be the daily newspaper reader for him. What began as a menial exercise soon turned out to be a means for me to grow richer and deeper. He would probe me with questions and get into discussions on various topics – life, spirituality, politics, and so on. It was during those times that I began to indulge in voracious reading and ardent arguments. I would at times be so lost in my argument with him that I would forget the age and ties with him. He was the plaintiff, the opposing counsel, and the judge. At times he would also humor me by indulging his family into the discussion. It was a riveting experience. What I didn’t realize then was that he was never imposing his opinions on me rather helping me shape my own thoughts and stand firm in my beliefs. He was like the gardener watering his plant to help it grow strong and to great heights.

It was only perhaps a decade and half that I spend with him; but I realize now, that I might not meet any gentleman even half his worth in my life. 

In terms of achievements, he had done so much that it was common to come across his praises every now and then. Yet what strikes you the most in him is the utmost humility he displays when talking to people across the spectrum. One of the biggest inspiration I draw from him is the ability to grow to heights from scratch with absolutely nothing but determination and hard work. 

Born into an ordinary orthodox family, he grew to be a formidable force leaving his giant imprint on the canvass of a great Country. He set an example to show that to achieve anything in life, it is only necessary to work hard. No heritage or riches need to be with you. In a society that is crude and unforgiving, he helped me realize that respect need not be under the ownership of the selected few. Rather, it goes to those who strive for it.

It is a common practice for elders to ask your roots when they learn of your native place. And the easiest way for me to answer that question was to take his name. When I reflect a bit, I figure that he spent an entire lifetime creating that name for three generations of us to cling to.  

\The world will have its praises
And I will have my losses
For to them he was one of many
Only for me was he the prized company
May the Lord, most Merciful, help your journey

May the work you left behind, help you attain true glory!

Sunday, December 18, 2016

The Lost World

The feathery touch of yours – I miss the most.

I would be lying though if that’s the only thing I missed. Your smile, your laugh, your hands – even when they are not on me, your bosom, your hair – as it flows out to eternity, your soul as it enters into me; I miss them all.

I wish there was something I could tell you that you didn’t know about you. You know them all – I know. You know how terribly I miss them too. Yet you choose to walk away - as carelessly as the blowing breeze who gives no thought while it downs the lovely leaves of the Neem.

You are the devil still the angel.

You are the one who kills me the most.

Often, I ask - what doth thou possess that makes me so possessed?

Until you came, till the first rays of light landed on you and reflected in my eye, I didn’t as much as think that a maiden would come with so much splendor that I would be swept from beneath my ground. Hell, I didn’t even realize a phrase as crazy as that would ever make sense! But of course, if the sight of your eye and the signals in your head are as clueless as the shining sun, then such things can happen I suppose.

You came, you conquered – haa; that sounds so war like. I know that’s far from how you would want to be described. But know this my lady – you did cause a devastation as bad as a worldly war could on a human body. Only this time, you cut a wound far too deep into my soul that I am forever sunk in the dungeons of my wounds.

To say I loved you would be moot. For my love was not even registered in you. The fact is you didn’t even think it fit to consider me. You let me float as the long-lost leaf from the barren tree – on its way to unknown territory, sailing along for a lost cause.

In spite of it all, I say this – you will remain with me. Etched in memory and painted in permanence. The shreds of my heart which you broke with such ease will always stay joined with the pain of your separation. That will give me the strength to live on with life and find in others what you failed to see in me.


Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Lost and Stranded

He was unaware of her watchful eyes on him. She was behind him watching his every move. Not with any evil motives rather with a plea of desperation. Her eyes moist and throat parched. Her every nerve aching for him. She stood there stranded; letting only her sight reach him – to brush with his body and somehow magically make him turn back and come to her.

Futile thoughts – she knew it for the better. Yet she was helpless and not able to divert her mind. Her mind was stirring madly in the dungeon of thoughts – filled with him. And to think of it, hardly few months – that was all the time she had spent with him – or rather he had spent with her.

Acquaintances – it all began with that. Then it was conversations which began to flow effortlessly. From thereon it was an unspoken sense of understanding that prevailed. Silence too had a meaning when they were together. And when words were exchanged, it came out and danced with such eloquence and beauty that onlookers were left with envy and pity. Envy for the sheer magnetism the two displayed and pity for the folly they were getting into.

The lines were blurred when they crossed from being simply friends into something more. Or was it something more? Did she even know what he was thinking? They never exchanged any vows or committed to any promises. Yet they both gave into each other’s desire with shameless ease. They explored what life had on offer and let time be non-existent in their presence.

This day would come – many did tell her that. Yet she let her life dance to unheard tunes and mute sounds. Till yesterday they were loud and clear – reverberating through her. But today they were dead. Everything ceased to exist and she was left with a longing gaze and nothing else.

What is in his mind? She will never know. She let him in knowing very well that he had to be out. So when the time came to bid farewell, there were no questions she could ask.

Friday, August 12, 2016

UNTITLED



For long I yearn to write
To ink the thoughts in my mind
In the cluttered
mesh, I find no space
Which makes
 any sense
Words fail me
My mind numbs me
What am I saying?
I ask myself
But find no answer
I am staring at the endless tunnel
Searching for the promised light
Where should I begin?
What shall I look for?
I am in pain
Nay, pain is too light a word
I am like the candle wax that is about to die
What is to come is imminent
Yet I wish to change the course
To light a few more days
To brighten the world around me
So what if I am losing my own light
At least my radiance will bring
 some purpose

For the lost traveller
For the aspiring student
I shall stay lit for the unknown to accomplish the unfinished
That shall give me more peace
More strength, more power


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Fb-ing

Of late a constant thought has been hovering over me. What is the logic behind us sharing our personal and intimate happenings with the world? Be it photos or incidents or Newtonian thoughts that strike us in the most bizarre moments. And it’s not really the world – but just to our so-called friends and their friends and their friends in the bookish world of Faces!

On the face of it, it is an absolutely terrific idea to have your connections accessible in such an easy and fun manner. Contacts once made can forever be nurtured with a few clicks. You meet a random person, have a conversation, and then add them to your connections. After ages, you are instantly able to access every tiny bit of their life (Of course whatever they have shared or their friends have shared about them – which is a lot nowadays)

For instance, I was thinking of updating my profile photo on Fb. Then I thought, why am I doing this? Just to let the world know how I am looking? Nay… that’s a trite point. Is it more about showing off how young I am (Courtesy of course Photo editing tool) in spite of what the numbers read against my birthdate? But then looking young does not make me any richer or happier. Or is it just to let a friendly beep to all my “friends” saying I got something to show you- which is nothing but my photo clicked in some exotic location? Then again save the very close friends whom I am anyway in touch with, why would others be interested in knowing about how I look like? Curiosity? Frankly, beats me…

It’s a funny world we live in today. We can boast of 1000+ connections in our friends list but how many will genuinely care? That’s a clichéd question now! Sometimes I ask - Is caring a word stretched too far when it comes to friends? Is it being too idealistic and utopian? Is it not possible to share bonds of friendship where we don’t do anything for each other and not really care about how the lives are going but just happen to accidentally browse on each other’s lives as we scroll through the virtual “Walls”? Perhaps cross each other one fine day to shake hands or say hello? 

On the other side, what is interesting about FB is that with the zillions of multimedia content that it circulates, it creates a platform for interaction. Even with “friends” whom you are not so close with, sometimes a random video maybe a way to interact. A press of a button is maybe a way of acknowledging you exist. Perhaps a one worded comment will help establish a long lost bond again. Can we call these as modern ways of being connected with friends?

Personally, I have not been too active on Fb. When it began as a photo-sharing website, I didn’t have pics that I deemed fit to share. Then the whole effort of transferring camera pics onto the PC and then uploading it to the internet was too tiring a task for me. Most importantly, the thought of updating “What’s on your mind now” or “what am I up to now” or “Where I am checked in now” wasn’t too appealing to me. Then one day I started sharing my blog links on Fb. To my surprise, this gave my blog a phenomenal number of hits. Earlier I had only fellow bloggers to access my blogs but through FB, I was able to cater to 100 times more the crowd. I then tried my bit at the profile photo - updating it once in a while and then waiting to see the no: of likes or comments it generated. But the idea was very insipid. Even now, whenever I happen to browse Fb (which is mostly when my wife tags me over things she wants me to look into), I see a great no: of profile picture updates. The funny part is no matter how the pictures are; compliments will always flow! Perhaps it’s just humanity being nice.
Of the things that I find most intriguing is when people share pictures of their personal events. Life events, outings, and not to mention trip photos. It is amazing to see the lengths people go in order to show how splendid a trip they had with their family. How joyous and how absolutely terrific the place they visited was. Through the pictures and videos, a virtual free tour is provided to onlookers. An ad agency perhaps hit it right with a satirical ad on the whole episode where a travel agent was convincing his clients about how a virtual studio tour – photoshopped pictures, custom social media updates is a much better and cost effective way of making their trip rather than actually visit the place.

A friend of mine remarked in the early days of Fb that he finds it disgusting to share his marriage pictures on FB. His logic was simple – why would I expose my most personal life event to the general public rather than to people whom I am very close with? I found him to be extremely pre-historic then. But now with the way a picture circulates, his comments make a lot of sense. Perhaps a crude fall out of this phenomenon is when a person is no more. The first place that is scavenged is their FB wall. 
All said and done, Facebook manages to get the attention of the world with numbers that are the envy of every marketer. From retailers to researchers, everyone is present on FB. And we have no dearth of success stories of FB marketing from the most rural of world cities. It has perhaps mixed the world of business and personal, intermingled both in such intricate ways that we are at times left wondering about what really is happening and who really are we talking to?

Tomorrow is unknown. But for today, Fb reigns supreme. An invention that has created a revolution in almost every part of the world. How their whole Free basics and other virtual reality offerings play out will be interesting to watch out. As for my photo update, I guess I’ll just hold it for now! But then I’ll update with my blog link :P

Friday, August 7, 2015

DESTINY – A POEM

When the world dances at your feet
To the songs you compose and the music you write
You feel like in heaven
Just as Eve’s Eden

But world is cruel and does not offer much solace
You think of your needs but you are forced to deface
Your soul craves just as you feared
But You can’t really heed
Instead You break out like a bead

The time is come to remove the mask
Why me you ask?
But it’s time and you know it all too well
Just as the routine strike of the bell

To move on is hard
To stay put is bad
A way out?
Or to bite the bait?

You can’t leave it to time
For that will cost you much more than a dime
To douse the burning fire
Will mean much more than killing your own desire!

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Kismat Connections



On a day when the sky looked dull 
and the weather dry and lull
Your whatsapp notification woke me up
and the image you sent made me jump
up in the air in joy and smile
in a moment, I went back in time
How true I thought! How very profound!
If not for my past, you would not be found
had our paths not crossed, the way it did , the time it did
I doubt if life would be this good
Now looking back, it all makes sense
every action, every thought that put me in a trance
a step it was to lead me unto you
to make you mine and take our vow
Ahh, the games of fate
simply great! 

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Where words fail

If words were meant to paint the images that bring to life the emotions the word carries, then I think they miserably fail when it comes to portraying certain emotions.

For instance, how does one ever describe the feeling that engulfs one on seeing a new born baby; more so when the new born is your own blood, come out of your dearest companion who carried and nurtured the unborn life for three quarters of an year, meandering along like a river flowing through dangerous terrain, changing course every now and then, every turn resulting in unexplained changes and every change leading to mysterious joy?

Is there a way you can put forth the elation that descends upon you as you feel the tender new born skin wrapped in cotton cuddled in your arms? As you see the eyes closed in serene peace and lips arched in angelic bliss give shape to the face that you painted on invisible canvas for months together?

It is indeed a blessing from the creator of life that every new life that takes shape gives rise to such immense joy and becomes a source of pristine ebullience. As you take the new born life closer to your chest and feel the thumping sound, resonating with your own beat, you realize how this beating makes your own irrelevant. How from now, your every dream has a new meaning, how your every breath carries a new purpose, how your every second is much more precious.

This very simple biological process, taking place every day in hundreds of thousands is enough to make you realize how magnificent the whole arrangement of life has been. The new born sight, the scent and sense, all makes everything else in the world seem silly and immaterial.

To all parents out there – I now know what it feels like!!!

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Silent voices

I am a honk which people blow
Only for them to grow

They make up things about me
Which I myself don't agree

They make me a toy
To suit their ploy

They imagine me in different forms
And fill their minds with zillion thoughts

They say I am suppressed and oppressed They call for my freedom and term me depressed

To them I am like the imaginary black hole Taking in all pain, living without any goal

They claim to end my suffering
But in reality they care only about their earning

They want to celebrate their success and glory
They make me the vehicle for their selfish joy

For if they truly cared, they would ask me what I truly want
And not make assumptions and make up all their rant

They will see my joy in the way I live
And learn to respect the way I thrive

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Scripting our future


How certain can one be of the future? As much as we plan, there are bound to be change of plans. With every path taken, there will be detours. Under the circumstances, it is perhaps surprising that not many like to take the path less travelled and try to be adventurous about their future. By adventure, I mean a sense of thrill in giving life to the skeletons of time as we cross it.

We all like the blanket of safety wrapped around our careers. With every job, the key is understanding the worth of the company. Not really the profile of the job. Hence the insistence on big names at the cost of low personal satisfaction. Big banners have a way of alleviating our inner cribs and worries which we conveniently devote to canteen talks or pointless conversations amongst equally crippled.

Any decision we make to charter a career path which is a little radical is met with huge criticism. Somehow our sense of logic and reasoning forces us to see the world through a narrow opening when it comes to making our livelihood. Which perhaps explains the huge pool of unemployable engineers India produces nowadays.

“Better Late than Never” is oft quoted but when it comes to making career choices, this adage is often scorned at; for course correction somehow seems absurd to many. I don’t intend to romanticise the change in heart of a chemical Engineer at the end of their course towards I.T. Many a times it could also be about choosing the easy way out. But I am sure there are times, when we realize our true calling. One fine day, it dawns on us that we were not meant to do what we were trained for or for that matter what we spent a considerable portion of our life doing. Yet, to listen to that inner call is ever so hard. We cling to every perceivable reason to not listen to the voice and somehow carry on with the status quo.

Brave are indeed the ones who defy the world views and step out in attempt to make their own. The most brave being those, who climb up again and again after every fall in their journey, in the process leaving their imprints in the sands of time for posterity to remark and comment! And so I pray, may we all have the strength to undertake such journeys. For it is not the end result that counts, it is the Journey called life that matters!

Monday, August 19, 2013

Lost and Stranded

He was unaware of her watchful eyes on him. She was behind him watching his every move. Not with any evil motives rather with a plea of desperation. Her eyes moist and throat parched. Her every nerve aching for him. She stood there stranded; letting only her sight reach him – to brush with his body and somehow magically make him turn back and come to her.

Futile thoughts – she knew it for the better. Yet she was helpless and not able to divert her mind. Her mind was stirring madly in the dungeon of thoughts – filled with him. And to think of it, hardly few months – that was all the time she had spent with him – or rather he had spent with her.

Acquaintances – it all began with that. Then it was conversations which began to flow effortlessly. From thereon it was an unspoken sense of understanding that prevailed between them. Silence too had a meaning when they were together. And when words were exchanged, it came out and danced with such eloquence and beauty that onlookers were left with envy and pity. Envy for the sheer magnetism the two displayed and pity for the folly they were getting into.

The lines were blurred when they crossed from being simply friends into something more. Or was it something more? Did she even know of what he was thinking? They never exchanged any vows or committed to any promises. Yet they both gave into each other’s desire with shameless ease. They explored what life had on offer and let time be non-existent in their presence.

This day would come – many did tell her that. Yet she let her life dance to unheard tunes and mute sounds. Till yesterday they were loud and clear – reverberating through her. But today they were dead. Everything ceased to exist and she was left with a longing gaze and nothing else.

What is in his mind? She will never know. She let him in knowing very well that he had to be out. So when the time came to bid farewell, there were no questions she could ask.


The bus took him away leaving her sight weary and tired – its purpose defeated once for all! 

Sunday, July 7, 2013

From Jeddah with Love!

They say first impression makes for the best impression. Undeniably it remains a lasting impression. I still remember the first impression of my better half (which was hardly to be found after that. it is that impression that I have to cling to at times, if you get what I mean ;)).
 
The first impression I had of Jeddah or Saudi Arabia as a country was anything to remember. After alighting from the flight, we had to take a 10 minute bus ride to reach the airport - one which makes calicut airport(a small airport in a small state of India) look mighty.  And then the sight - hordes of people in a snake like queue, many squatting and some even making the floor their bed, was anything but inviting. I was to wait through that queue to clear immigration! To make it worse there were no immigration officers. One would expect a little more from the countries biggest airport (in terms of passenger volume). Especially if the country is filled with oil wells!
 
To add to all this, when it actually came to the immigration counter, their system collapsed - software system! The officer in charge kept restarting for some time but all to no avail. Finally he gave up. Like as though it was a daily occurrence, he asked me to wait till the system was up and went for a smoke! That sort of summed it all - If something doesn't work, you have to wait. The duration of the wait varies depending on your luck. On that day however, I was lucky for their system regained life pretty quickly.
 
Now, if the airport scene was chaotic, the roads were even more. Cars jumping queues and driving over pedestrians. Bikes wheeling and racing. The indicators hardly in use. Now coming from India, this wasn't too surprising. But to see it in a Arab country was - perhaps I was expecting a little bit of order!
 
The chaos apart, as days pass by, I realise the different colours that make this place vibrant. Now of course, colours are not something that you'll see around. People here have taken a fierce liking to black and white- all around you will see women in black robes and men in white!

A walk through the mall can at times be a little discomforting - for you may fail to distinguish between your own woman and others! Needless to say, bird watching will simply not exist in this part of the world. In fact, if you were to go as a bachelor, many of the places will be prohibited for you. Mall food courts, few of the shopping arenas and parks are strictly reserved for families. And what's more, this is perhaps the only place in the world to have dedicated manpower to over see that no moral wrong takes place! Makes it all the more safer for women - or so is the argument.
 
Fittingly perhaps it is the colourless waters of Red sea that lends this city its charm. The long coastline buzzes with life at all times. Walkways, jogging tracks, lush green parks, well developed corniche all make for very lively places. On any day its a common sight to see people come and spend evenings by the corniche or parks - mostly with sheesha or barbeque or the ever famous Albaik chicken.

Now as much as the ills that plague this place, it is an oasis for many a people. For in spite of the numerous restrictions and the maddening laws that govern this place, swarms of people pour over to make their life better. It is in fact a testimony to the riches this place holds that so many immigrants unmindful of all that they are asked to do, labour on.
 
Oil apart, the industrial boom that is happening currently is unmatched in any other part of the Arab world. Paradoxically though, while the whole world scramble to make the most of the country's oil riches, their own citizens are left to wander. As with any other development story, the disparity in income is evident from the numerous hawkers knocking on tinted German,American and Japanese cars at almost every traffic joint.
 
Recently though the ruling class seem to have finally woken up to all this and have embarked on some ambitious reform programs. Mammoth funding to thrust development, sweeping reforms to address inefficiency and illegalities. The result is that on one hand there is an ocean of opportunity while on the other there is confusion and chaos regarding ever changing government rules. Like an announcement will be out in the papers that a new way of doing things have come out, without any hurdles in a single click but the bureaucrats handling the affairs may be completely unaware of any such change! 
 
Lastly about Makkah - a place that lends Saudi Arabia its unique identity and culture. The Haramain (in conjuction with Medina) as it is called in Arabic make up for all the other follies of the state. The government has left no stone unturned in making sure a visit to either of the place is hassle free and comfortable. A commendable job indeed. A visit to any of the Haram is enough to soothe your mind of any lingering troubles. From all the hopelessness that exists, they fill you with ocean loads of hope! At least in my case.
 
From Jeddah
With Love!
 


 
 

 

Friday, May 10, 2013

Small Bazaar

It was a refreshing day. The sun trying to peak at its zenith. Mercury levels were showing signs of easing. As I walked, the river seemed to reflect much more than the sunlight falling on it. As though it was trying to convey something to me. Almost telling me that this was the right time to strike!
It was after a good bit of thinking that I put it across to Rajiv on his big day. Rajiv, being the landlord's son was having a resounding bash celebrating the silver jubilee of his survival on mother earth.
 "It'll be a grand idea man. Trust me on this" - I sounded almost pleading; trying to ebb out every inch of convincing power in me. I had carefully thought out how to put it across to him and as I laid out the plan, I could sense the positive change in his facial expression.  
The guy that he was, my powers had the desired effect. 

 "So, how is the birthday boy doing" - asked Uncle to Rajiv, coming into the house.
  "Good Bapu. Was actually going to talk to you about something." - He winked at me. 
I knew this was my chance. 
 "Uncle, you must listen to Rajiv. He seems all set to take off now" - I added, to make sure I create the right mood. 
  "Whats the matter beta?" 
The pot belly looming large, and the long white kurta curving along the sides, only that it was in the opposite direction. The clean shave though not really revealing his age. Uncle was from the zamindar family in the village. His father, Rajiv's grandfather had been a very popular figure in the village. Their family could trace their origin back to almost 10 generations - or so they claimed. 
 That was however not why I was cozying up with Rajiv for the past few months. We both had grown together until high school when I had to leave my village and go to the nearby town, almost 100 km for my college education. It had been almost three years since I passed out. All I managed in the meantime was a job that required long hours of standing, which did not justify the sum that I got in return. As much as I tried, I couldn't force myself to continue for long. And so before the last monsoons, I packed my bag and returned to the village, much to the dismay of my mother, who was longing to boast about my city job to demand a fitting dowry. 

 "Bapu, for how long do we keep doing the same thing with our crops? Now Ramu kaka can't be perennially providing us with our grocery no? We need some change. Jai has just got back from the town and he has seen the big change happening there. This is the right time for us. Our village, I am sure will receive this well"
"Rajiv beta, what are you saying? That we stop our food grains from our farms and buy it from the cities?" 
 "No Bapu. that's not what I am saying. we need not stop our produce. But instead we'll sell it to the bazaar walahs. They'll buy in bulk, package it nicely and make sure it reaches the markets in time. And then we'll buy in bulk from them and sell it in glass shops here"
 "Glass shops?"
 "See Bapu, all are bored by this store houses that we keep our grains. Very soon mama and Gopi kaka and all will be old. Then who is going to make sure the right ration is provided to all our localities? Who will make sure the grains are given off before it gets rotten? It'll all be a huge problem. When we build these buildings and cover it with glass, we give our people the confidence of looking in. we will be transparent and very welcoming. They can come whenever they want and at their own will. We need not manage these credit records and have them all come at set time"
 "It's all going to be a novel concept Bapu. It's only fit that we bring in this change rather than the Dhuggals or Choudhris. We have always been at the forefront in bringing change here. We were the first to introduce motor pumps for irrigation. We also got in the beta varieties. This also has to be us"
Rajiv went on, completely convinced with the model I put forth. 
 "This had to be it" - I said to myself. 
 After all that he heard, uncle smiled, and replied in his usual calm and composed manner - 
"Beta, you really seem to have thought through all this.But.."
 "Why but uncle. Just agree to this." - I found myself almost bursting forth.
 "I am not for all these glass houses. You know me. We Rathods have a certain respect in this village. Partly out of love but partly out of our deeds. We needn't do all that you mentioned to help our people. They are more served the way we are doing it now. Besides none of the other families can even dream of doing what we are doing now. Our position, our honour has been passed on from generations. Don't worry about keeping them up with such deep thoughts beta" - he smiled and patted Rajiv on his back. 

Sea waves came crashing forth. My plans were being crouched and quashed. I was left with nothing but air in my glass of hope! 


That day had perhaps not been that bad. In fact if not for that day, I wouldn't have pushed myself to such limits. 

Preparations were on in full swing. The barren land behind the old tile factory. It was unused land and for long the villagers had ditched it as ominous. I had nothing to lose. Pratap ji had been more than willing to part with it for rent or lease or whatever agreement I had put forth. The village banters were on in full swing. The paper boys and postal guys were so intrigued that they began inspecting the area every day on their routines. The monsoons had just receded and it was as if the weather gods were laying open their blessings for me. 
 "Jai, are you really going to open up your new warehouse here?" - It was Ramu kaka. 
 "Yes Ramu kaka. I want to bring fresh lease of life to this dead land. I'll have a glass house open right next where everybody can buy their food stock."
 "Hmm…" Ramu kaka let out a mixed whiff of air and walked away. 

Obviously, news reached one and all. What began quietly quickly began to spread like wild fire. Of course ours was a pretty small village. But my estimates of village populace and their wealth placed me in a very comfortable place for what I intended Apart from the zamindars, most of them were either employed in the fields or they were doing something or the other with the crops. The government babus had their share of income and a good number of people had sizeable income coming in from their city gone progenies, courtesy the post man. 

Surprises and admirations were always welcome reactions. But when Rajiv's father called me once to his haveli, I wasn't quite prepared for the proceedings. 

"Beta, you are Rajiv's friend and have grown up in our haveli" He began with a gentle yet reprimanding tone. 
"If what I hear is right, you are going to set up distribution centres for food stock and other house goods…"
"No uncle. This is not any distribution centres. This is just going to be a small hut like place where people can come and choose to buy if they wish" I explained
"...Call it whatever you want. But this village can't be having another chief distributor. It is our family who has been in charge of the affairs for generations…."
He went on and on like as if he was trying to invoke laws of proprietary and copyrights.
Finally, he asked me who helped me with the capital. 
"Dhuggal ji was kind enough.." 
"Enough" - He cut me short and with that he dismissed me. 

I knew he didn't take kindly to Dhuggals. Rathods always had issues with the Dhuggals. But so much of anger. Well, I decided to stay put. 

The expressions of awe at hearing me start something new and the chance for the village to experience a whole new concepts were slowly giving room to an air of dampness in the village. The Rathods somehow felt as though this was a direct assault on their supremacy. It did not help that Rajiv's father learnt of Dhuggals involvement. I went on anyway. Coz I knew what I was doing and my plan was foolproof. 

When the tractors came in with the raw materials, the entire stretch of road had onlookers. Some with worrying faces, some with sheer astonishment; somehow the village talk was all about my fate and not of what I was setting up. I was unperturbed. All this I had foreseen; now it was all about being patient and going about my work. 

It was the cry of the goats that woke me up first. incessant cries were definitely not the norm. Not that we had any trouble of wolves in our area. Sluggishly, I woke up and went outside. I couldn't see anybody. Dawn was just about to break. Shreds of light were beginning to separate the darkness of the night. I decided to cycle down my street and onto the roads. There I smelt something. An unusual odour accompanied the morning air. As I kept cycling, my senses were picking up the air much more sharply and my doubts were turning into reality. Black fumes was what my eyes saw. charred air was what my nostrils inhaled. 

By that time, people had already begun to crowd the place. All my materials had been burnt beyond recognition. The land where I intended the warehouse cum bazaar was reduced to black ask. Smoke and smog. The winter air stung me cold. My feets were numb; head slowly digesting the fact; reality dawning on me with the morning chillness. 

From then on, it was exactly as planned. Obviously the local cops were not going to find out who or what caused it. The Rathods had their way whenever they intended anything. 
The report said, "It was an unusual activity that spurred out of nowhere"

No person living in the surrounding had a hint of clue as to what had happened. So it was all straight forward for the insurance guys. They came and had the place inspected. Few interviews done and they had to concur with the police report. Rather were forced to. 

My claim was to be in the town I had left almost a year back. The scrap that I had collected from the neighbouring village, which all mistook for raw materials had cost me close to nothing. Pratap ji was only happy to lose all connections with the cursed land. No money did he want and when I told him I have to look for livelihood in the city now, he was only happy to see me off. 


The morning breeze swept through my hair. I was relaxed in my new house. A sense of satiation filled me, one that is acquired after much hard word. My plan had gone super smooth. Uncle played to my ploy with perfection. Everyone was so co-operative during the Insurance probe too. Ahh, what joy, what peace; puts me in a state of trance! The complete money all to myself. 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Gratitude


The oil of sorrow will fry only malice 
What comes of it will make for poor choice

Yet of people there are so many
Who likes to mould life through their dark foundry

What good will a smile of poison bring 
Wont tears of joy make for a happier spring?

A drop from the fountain of joy
Is always worth every ploy

Now, life is only lived once,
but when filled with empathy, will feel like eons

A little reflection by the river
will do wonders to the ego filled desire

Strange however is the refusal of the soul
to look within and realise the foul

To criticise and defame is ever so easy
Alas to earn respect and love, a little uneasy

Thursday, February 21, 2013

An inception


More often than not, an I.T project will begin with a customer asking for an I.T solution. It may be fixing a newfound problem, re-engineering their existing system, or quite simply helping them with a wacky way of spending their cash (which is the case most of the time ;)). Be it whatever, the journey then starts. The first stop over will be into the minds of the customer – more appropriately into the users who will be using the designed solution so as to understand the exact requirements.

As a business Analyst, my role is to be that imaginary fly who can effortlessly cross into the minds of the users and extract out their wishful thinking, deduce what is realistically possible and try and plant a new image into their mind after consultation with my dreaded developers who will eventually code out the designed solution. If this does not happen as intended, then what comes out can be anything between a total disaster to horrifyingly obscene! Lest you think I am exaggerating, check out this video for a more realistic analogy of how things can go wrong -


The whole process of ‘extracting’ the user’s thoughts on the desired solution and replacing it with ‘a new thought’ is an intriguing process. In my organization, we call it – The Inception. A fancy name (they came up with this much before the movie was out! )

Recently I went through this process with an interesting customer from the entertainment industry.  Thanks to the fantastic team I was part of, the entire process was a lovely learning curve. Thought I'll take some time off to reflect on the whole episode.

What went well –

The suspecting and doubting customers on day one quickly warmed up to the concept of inception when they were asked to play some games (can't emphasise enough on the importance of Innovation games)  and activities.  As the clock ticked, a lot of things seemed to go well.


  1. Elevator pitch – An exercise where all of us in the room wrote down what we thought of the solution in the shortest possible way (in a small card) – akin to explaining the solution to a stranger in the space of an elevator journey as it takes off from the ground floor to the topmost floor. This not only broke the ice but also helped all of us come on the same page. 

  2. Time Machine – The intent was to travel forward in time with the customers, in the process noting down all that they wanted to see at various points. It’s more like laying out the roadmap of their journey by asking them to dream a picture perfect way of what they want from the solution. We drew the line for the next two years, splitting it on a half yearly basis. So beginning FY2013, H1 2014, H2 2014, H1 2015, H2 2015. This sort of gives the BIG picture view of things.

  3. Creating the personas – To every system, there will be users. We tried giving life to all the different users who would be using the proposed system. Coming up with all the things that will make life easy for the users and also of things that the users will hate if we messed up. The idea was to come up with what the ideal user would want from the system.

  4. Business Model Canvas – With each of the personas, we listed down all that they’ll practically want to do with the system. Every activity that the user will be engaged in from sunrise to sunset was listed and put down, more like the journey of the user. Thus laying down all the features the system will require. Now I am simplifying this a little too much but essentially what we did is to see how the solution caters to the personas, especially in trying to entice the customer to use this more and also uncovering what will irk them too. A better video explanation below - 



  5.  Prioritization – Once we had the complete list of features which the different users, we came up with the bare minimum or the most necessary of the lot; just so that we were not burning up cash without reason. 

  6. Transparent estimation – Usually, at least as far as I know, once the requirements for a system is gathered, the next process is a whole black box where the I.T company claims to make use of complex systems to come up with a magical cost figure. But here, with each of the features laid out, the developers argued and agreed over the complexity of each of the features and came up with a final number that indicated the sum total of all the feature complexity - also called as story points. A good explanation on Agile estimation in the video here 

  7. Shooting with a Premonition – With the complexity number against each feature, the developers dug deep into their guts and convictions to come up with a number, which estimated how much time the numbers translated to. The fact that we were honest in assigning the numbers and equally honest in admitting that this number in ‘Man hours’ or ‘people time’ was only an informed guess earned us brownie points. Now we don't really say time, rather we call it as the velocity or as the no: of story points which the developers can cross in a given time (usually an iteration). But obviously, it boils down to a time figure. 

  8. Collaborative Approach – Making the whole exercise of extracting what they want and telling what they’ll realistically get into a collaborative exercise where there were equal participation from business users, developers, managers, decision makers, business analysts helped. It sort of translated to a shared mission and goal rather than a one sided approach or a purely transactional one.

  9. Visual Appeal - what also helped is the fact that we employed visual tools. All the exercises we did where  all evident by means of charts/stickys/ post-its hanging all around the room. The walls of the room went from plain white to all sorts of colours by the end of the exercise. I have no doubts that also helped in a big way.

Too good to happen –

At the end of all this, what perhaps helped make the whole event a ‘completely smooth’ one was the fact that the numbers we came up with fit the customer's pockets perfectly (it almost magically came just within their pre set budget!). Most of the time it is after the requirements phase that the nasty street fights begin – trade offs of features or time or quality or of ‘n’ number of things come up. But I suspect even if the numbers had crossed the Lakshman rekha, the clients brought into the whole process and were willing to stretch since they saw the value they were getting for their money

So in summary, a requirement gathering exercise which went exceedingly well without any frictions. Obviously not a common phenomenon, but one every B.A will highly desire :)

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Slice of Moghul Flesh


Add a tad bit of juice to the imprints left behind in the sands of time, and you have a lovely cocktail of history and fiction. That is when it gets interesting and I am sure if history is taught or portrayed this way, it will catch the imagination of many and generate far greater interest than it does now.

Alex Rutherford’s series on the Moghul emperors is a good attempt at narrating history in a catchy manner. After finishing the first book on Babur, I was looking forward to the third one – simply coz the third emperor interested me much more than the second (sadly coz I know very little of Humayun and I wasn’t really interested yet). Akbar – is perhaps the most popular of the lot of Moghul rulers over India. With movies, comics and the ever famous Akbar – Birbal series, he has managed to create a cult following. 

Though by no means extensive, the book throws some light into the rise of Akbar’s power, highlighting the main events in a colourful fashion. Named ‘Ruler of the World’, Rutherford rightfully says of Akbar as perhaps the greatest of the Mughals. Crowned king at the tender age of 13, there is indeed much that Akbar claimed and established in his reign of near 50 years.

Among the anecdotes Rutherford narrates, the one that amused me the most is about Anarkali – the ‘pomegranate blossom’ girl (The name Akbar beatified her with!) Apparently she was the prized concubine of Akbar. Now, Anarkali as our dear friend google* tells me has been a debatable topic historically as there is no unanimous agreement on her exact role and the turn of events with her. Rutherford relates a version; one that I think creates maximum impact (for it has loads of Masala!)

It is those paradoxes of life that an illiterate Akbar turns out to be a keen fan of knowledge and develop a deep sense of appreciation for aesthetics and artistry. (evident in Fathehpur sikri – the city he builds of sandstone). It is no surprise then that he adorned and preserved beauty. But what makes him stand apart is the way in which he parades beauty – making a spectacle of such pomp and grandeur that it manages to sweep the feet of the viewers, throwing them to a world floating in opulence and filled with never ending riches.

Keeping with that trait, Rutherford creates a scintillating narrative in unfolding a grand entry for Anarkali– a mesmerizing belly dance performance to an audience including all the noted ones in the court. At the end of the show as the beauty is laid for the beholder’s eye, there is nothing but awe and amazement. Akbar has his way of exposing his riches and making enchanting visual statements. But with this one, he created fire. It was flaring and soaring; so much so that his own son couldn’t resist the temptation of Anarkali. Akbar’s son Jehangir a.k.a Salim was so filled with desire that he trespassed into prosecutable territory. Unable to control his growing urge, Salim uses every power he can to lay his hands to quench his thirst. His misdemeanors come to a halt when the emperor learns of the treachery. As one would expect, Akbar is enraged and mad with anger – his most prized concubine is consumed by none other than his own son – what greater insult than this! Akbar being the man he was, obsessed with the fairer sex, took great offence at this, was in no mood to let go off the transgression. He ordered Salim to exile in Kabul and as for Anarkali, he wanted her confined to a dungeon in complete isolation and to be buried alive – a fitting response for her lecherous act!

On the other side, Salim, the romantic can hardly digest the verdict and pleads on behalf of his love. Rutherford’s version has his grandmother, Akbar’s mother Hamida do an appeasing act by giving an honorable death to Anarkali.  Plays and movies fantasize this episode in their own way (Mughal – e – Azam, Anarkali, Loves of a Moghul Prince to mention a few). The heartbroken Salim is filled with remorse and after years when he is finally king, he honored Anarkali by building a tomb overher grave – situated in present day Lahore (there seems to be a whole market in Lahore – Anarkali Bazaar near her grave which is one of the oldest markets in Asia). Fittingly there is an urdu couplet which is attributed to Salim inscribed on the grave –

I would give thanks unto my God unto the day of resurrection
Ah! could I behold the face of my beloved once more
                                                                                                majnūn Saleem Akbar

Little wonder then that it has stirred so much of interest in the creative minds. Like I said there are different version to the episode, some from early British travellers and some from Urdu chroniclers.

Yet another interesting trait that Rutherford brings forth is about Akbar’s ingenuity when it comes to keeping his empire intact. He rightly recognizes the infectious greed that occupies the human mind and comes up with a novel way to tackle the malice – every time he gains victory, he makes a lavish display of wealth and gives a fitting share to all his governors. He takes a cue from Baburnama (the book which Babur wrote about his life)

Be generous to your supporters. If they learn that they have more to gain with you than 
When leaving u, they are bound to stay.

Another tactic he employed to promote stability in his empire was to develop marital bonds. His interest in women is a thing of legend, but for Akbar marriage seemed to be a smart way of appeasing the royals. He began with the Rajputs and went on to emulate the feat with lots of other royals so as to ensure stability to his vast empire. Smartness or mischief – depends on the way you see it.

The intriguing thing about Rutherford’s book is the absence of Birbal. For that matter the absence of any other Navratnas apart from Abul Fazal – Akbar’s chronicler or the author or Akbarnama.

Nevertheless, the book is an interesting read for any of you interested in Akbar or for that matter in knowing about the greatness of a leader who made it all on his own!

*Few interesting links on the Anarkali myth - Here and here