Tigers and such and lack thereof

When I wrote the last time on this blog, I remember a wooly mammoth walking by my window. We don’t see too many of them these days. I think it’s been a long time since I wrote.

By the way mammoths were not really mammoth size wise. They were smaller than the current day elephants which don’t pass by the windows. I don’t know if any one actually harvested wool from the wooly parts of the mammoth but I am surely amused by the genius in calling a cute little (little compared to elephants which don’t walk by the windows) thing as ‘wooly’ mammoth. Some would point out a lurking greed in the act; I say it’s an inspired imagination.

When I enquired about why these elephants are not walking by, I found that they have been really busy in hauling logs, going to safaris, blessing people in temples and jingling those thick iron chains tied to their feet. Someone told me that they are actually trying to break free, but I think that the jingling of those chains is rather amusing. They, of course, do all of this when they are not supplying ivory. Busy folks these elephants are, I can tell you.

If you thought elephants were big, I recommend a view of the big ugly whales. At least you will be accurate when you tell your kids about them. I recommend that you go see them fast. These days these guys are doing nothing much of use but dying. Just as well. They have lots of fat and take too much space anyways.

To top it, these whales eat too much. We are going to need all that food soon. You do need lots of energy to go shopping to those whooping big malls. How far do you think is the time when all the fields and the jungles will be paved? One needs lots of space for the malls and the roads leading to the malls and other industrial hubs.

Killing those big ugly whales seems so good and apt. We can eat their food to enjoy the beautiful creations we make on the space where we are growing food now. It all falls into place.

Coming back to the business of busy elephants; busy in taking people on elephant safaris. Most of these safaris are the attempts of some fools to spot these stupid tigers. These fools go ecstatic if they manage to spot one of these furtive animals. Once in a life time thing all right, but what is the use. The real smart people, anyways, find them easily and kill them.

Hats off to these smart people otherwise known as poachers (and I don’t know why). These guys are doing a great service by eliminating such dangerous animals. Tigers are known to attack the livestock and even the people who live in the protected tiger reserves. I say, raze the jungles and kill the tigers. We need to grow some wheat there before we will need to build a factory on the land and call it a special economic zone.

Thanks to our brave poachers we have 1411 (i.e. one thousand four hundred and eleven) tigers only. But the last leg is left, before we are ridden of such nefarious creature. Given the work done in past, I would give it but a few years.

I just hope one of them passes by my window before they go the way of saber tooth tigers. More about them later.

P.S:
They say satire is the lowest form of humor, but such is the situation. I have seen a tiger once. And the majestic thing that it is, even after so many years I can remember all details. And now we are looking at the possibility of not having them in a generation or two. Unless we do something about it.

Reading List - 2010

Last year has not been the best ever in my life. I would want to forget it in a hurry. Except that I managed to read 26 books in a very tumultuous year.
Coming up with this count took me some time. So I thought why not create a list and keep adding to it. Here is the list.

1. Heaven's Command : An Imperial Progress by Jan Morris (History)
2. The Life and Times of The Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson (Memoir)
3. If God Was a Banker by 'I dont care, really' (Me too an MBA) (Pratyush says: Dont touch it even with a pole)
4. I Too Had a Love Story by Ravinder Singh (Love Story)
5. Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama (Memoir)
6. The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen (Economics/Philosophy/History)
7. BPO Sutra by Sudhindra Mokhasi (compilation of Indian BPO stories)
8. Love Story by Erich Segal (Romance)
9. The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama (Politics)
10. Not Without My Daughter by Betty Mahmoody with William Hoffer (Memoir)
11. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (Adventure Classic)
12. Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup (Whodunnit)
13. India Unbound by Gurcharan Das (Political/economic)
14. The Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy by Douglas Adams (Sci-fi/comedy)
15. The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams (Sci-fi/comedy)
16. Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (Memoir of soul searching through 3 countries. A good one)
17. Life, the Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams (Sci-fi/comedy)
18. Night Train to Lisbon by Pascal Mercier (Awesome)
19. So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish by Douglas Adams (Sci-fi/comedy)
20. Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams (Sci-fi/comedy)
21. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (Something or the other)
22. Pappilon by Henri Charriere (Autobiography/Prison Break)
23. An Unfinished Biography by Indira Goswami (Autobiography- marred by bad translation)
24. The Calcutta Chromosome by Amitav Ghosh (History-Mystery, not as good as his other works)
25. Siddhartha by Hermmann Hesse (Historical Fiction-Very nice)
26. Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert (Drama Classic)
27. Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy (Drama Classic)
28. The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas (Historical Fiction, Adventure)
29. Gunaho Ka Devta by Dr. Dharamvir Bharati (Hindi, Social)
30. Rag Darbari by Sri Lal Sukla (Hindi, Social)
31. Mujhe Chand Chahiye by Surendra Verma (Hindi, Social, Just about OK)
32. The Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories by Agatha Christie (Mystery, good as always)

How do you get coconut oil……and kerosene?

Like a true family, we like to remain close as we travel. Even if it means fitting 7 people in a car meant to seat 5 people only, including the guy who agreed to travel in discomfort. This usually is the youngest of the lot barring toddlers. They just keep standing or may be move around, lap to lap.

Last weekend I was at my sister's place and all of us went out together, taveling like a true famly. My 6 years old niece K was sitting in my lap. That is when the following conversation took place.

K: Do you know how is coconut oil made?
P: No, I don’t know? Do you?
K: Yes! I do. But give it a shot. I know that you are thinking that it is made from the coconut milk.
P: It is not?
K: No it is not!
P: Then I don’t know how? Can’t think of anything.
K: They didn’t tell you this in school?
P: Well, looks like they forgot. But you tell me.
K: Really! They forgot?
P: Yeah, that’s what it seems like. But why don’t you tell me. Looks like even you don’t know that.

That was enough challenge. So she oblized.

K: You don’t know a thing and you tell me I don’t know. This is how it is done. You take a coconut. Take out the milk. Then you dry the coconut. If it gets too dry then you put some water in it and dry it again. And then you put it in a machine. You know there is this machine which is so big and heavy and black.
P: And black?
K: Yeah there is this black machine, big and heavy which you put the coconut in. Coconut is dry but not too dry, if it gets too dry you have to put some water in it. And then you switch the machine on. The machine presses the coconut and the oil comes out.
P: But I can not see any oil in the coconut. (super amazed look here)

Exasperated, she banged her head once.

K: Oh its inside it. That is why the black machine has to press it out.

I can’t tell you how proud I was feeling of her. And of myself, I was learning so much. So I thought I will learn some more.

P: Ok then, how do you get mitti tel (i.e. hindi for kerosene = ground oil)?

If someone starts asking me too many questions, my normal response is, “smart ass, one question a day”. But this little girl was unfazed. I guess that is generation gap.

K: So you don’t know this too. This is so easy.
P: How do you get mitti tel?
K: You take some soil (= mitti) and ummm… mix some water in it. Then you dry it. Don’t dry it too much, else you will have to put some more water in it and dry it again. After that you have to put it in this big and heavy and black machine. You know there is this big, heavy and black machine.

Are you wondering now, if it is the same machine? I did, and I asked.

P: Ok. Same machine?
K: No not same, it is different. Because you have to put mitti in it. Besides, if you use the same machine, the coconut oil will become dirty.

No, I could not have thought of that.

P: Oh, right. Sorry. What do you do next?
K: Then you switch on the machine. The machine presses the mitti and the mitti tel (=kerosene) comes out.

Voila. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I have never seen any oil in any soil.

Here is the little heroine of our story.

Oh by the way, are you still wondering if I told here the right thing? You will be glad to know that I did. And here is the simple formula, whatever oil you can eat comes out of the big and heavy and black machine after some poor produce getting pressed. And whatever oil you burn comes out of the well from deep down in the earth. I know, it is tough to explain. My experience is still fresh.

I am thinking if kerosene came out of soil, then Saudis would have been the poorest people. You see, their soil is mostly sand.

You and I just live on

How many times you meet people you think you are so in synch with. There are those people whom you want to embrace and not let go ever. You think you will be friends forever, will stay close forever and will realize the common dreams together. In the pleasure of the company of the friends and the camaraderie and the common thoughts and so many other things, you tend to forget something so important. We are all different people. And what is not common will, more often than not, be bigger and more important than what is. Even for what is common, there are different backgrounds, different constraints and different conditions that one has to contend with to realize it.

So we part. Sometimes forever, sometimes for a long time and sometimes we part only to meet intermittently. And who is to blame? No one, really.

I leave you with this small poem. This is where the line in the description of this blog’s title comes from.  And I am truly jealous of you if you can see, talk, reach out to and touch people whom you want to, anytime you want to and every time you want to. You are lucky and blessed.

See that wave running

Running to the shore

Crash into its embrace

Like there's nothing more

See that shore waiting

Dry, waiting to be quenched

Soak the mighty wave in it

Let go through fists clenched

Together now and part

On and on, it goes on

So do arms on the clock

You and I just live on

How Starbucks Saved My Life

What’s the big deal? It saved my life too, many times. That’s what I thought when I first heard the title of this book. Lately I came across this title here . I have been meaning to read this book ever since. Sometimes it so happens that you want something and it presents itself. It’s been happening so with a lot of things for me, except of course that truck load of money that just doesn’t arrive. So a friend of mine sees this in discount section gets the book and I get to read it.

Now coming back to point, this book is not about Starbucks coffee saving lives the way we know it. You see, we have been guests. This book is about how Starbucks gave a second chance to Michael Gates Gill. He, by the way, happens to be a barista at Starbucks.

So what is so special about this Mr. Gill? Well, there is something. Michael Gates Gill is son of a celebrated New Yorker writer Brendon Gill, lived in a huge brownstone as a kid. He studied in Yale and was a successful advertising professional at JWT. He worked there for 25 years and rose up to executive vice president and that is when he was fired. He was fired by one of his mentees whom he helped rise in her career. He tells you that he was fired for being an oddity in a company which wanted to be young and sleek. At the age of 53 he starts his own consulting business, which doesn’t click.

He spends next 10 years doing various things. Hoping that his old customers will find him useful, going to gym, having an affair, fathering a son out of marriage, getting a divorce and giving his big house to his former wife. He also manages to bore the woman he had affair with and grow a tumour in his brain which is non-terminal but is making him lose hearing in one ear. Oh, I almost forgot, he spends all his money, has no insurance for him and kids and is almost broke. Apart from all this he mainly spends time visiting Starbucks stores and being too rigid to accept for a long time that he has screwed his life up and good. Only good thing, spending time with the youngest son, makes him realize what he missed out on with his other 4 kids.

 One fine day, he is sipping coffee in Starbucks store and pondering over how messed up his life really is, he is offered a job. He grabs the offer, thinking of the great health benefits. Thus he becomes a partner at Starbucks (a barista for us).

Rest of it is how Michael, now Mike, copes up with his new job, realizing everyday that JWT never made him feel so respected and satisfied.

That is what the story is for the most part. But if you can, for a moment, forget that the narrator is telling his own ‘riches to rags story’, there is something more that comes out. Most glaring is the contrast between the old corporate in America ruled by ‘white middle aged men’ and the corporate today that is more diversified and inclusive in terms of color, age and sex. Now and again Mike can’t help but compare the small everyday things with the way things were. Comparing how his young African-American female boss supports and guides him with how he ruined the advertising career for an African-American girl for committing a mistake that he didn’t warn her against.

And that at times, makes you think that from being served to be one who serves probably serves him right.

The book has a great catchy title, something you would expect from an ad veteran. It is also full of information and details that, at least I would not care about. I mean, I can live without knowing which Starbucks store Crystal manages. The narrative is easy going and sometimes manipulative and at times makes you genuinely feel for him. Most importantly, without any serious sermon, book makes you realize and think about a few things which are so important and so neglected by us in life. After I turned the last page, I looked for when it was printed and could not help but wonder what this guy is doing today. That is when I knew I have read a good story.

This book doesn’t cost much to read, both in terms of time and money. Read it by all means if you lay your hands on it. If you miss it, there is a movie all ready in the making. Read here on IMDB.

Good job Michael Gates Gill. I hope that you are truly happy in life and you don’t have to think anymore about how low you have fallen in life. By the way, though Starbucks might have saved your life, for me you would have redeemed your soul too if only you had not omitted Tawana’s name from the acknowledgements.

Mom, where is my Nobel?

Ever since the unthinkable has happened, it has got me thinking. And it has got me thinking very seriously. Not that I don’t think seriously ever, but this is different this time. I have been thinking mostly on the lines of 'akhir mujhme kya kami hai' (roughly translated to what is missing in me after all).

I mean if Barack Obama can have the Peace Nobel, so can I. After all in our different ways, on different platforms, we have been doing the same thing for world peace (that would be nothing but talking). It’s not only me who thinks so. Half the people I know seem to think that they have equal, if not more, claim on the prize. I even got roughed up by a couple of my friends. We have been debating who deserves it more, me or my friend.

See the irony, how peace prizes make people violent. As for the details or this roughing up, let’s just say, a few things are better left unsaid (as they contain profanity and violence).

So I turn to the only person on earth whom I could trust on genuinely believing that I could, or rather should get all the Nobels in the world. Yeah, that’s my mom. Besides, she is the only person I could confidently hope to beat in a debate. At least that’s what I thought. As it turns out, it was not that great an idea after all.

Here is the conversation. By the end of it you will know what I mean by not a great idea.

P: Ma, who is the coolest dude in the world?

Mom: Who else kid, you are?

I am always touched by how I will remain a kid for her, even though I have been trying to convince everyone for a score and then some years that I am a kid and I needed their support. Mainly their financial support.

P: Ma, do you know Obama got the Peace Nobel?

Mom: Of course I do. Who doesn’t? What do you think I am last generation or what?

Now I know, as long as I remain a kid she remains current generation.

P: But Ma, you think that was right? I mean, Obama getting the Nobel. I think I am equally qualified for this.

What else would my sweet mom say, but agree to it.

Mom: Hmm, I think its right. I think he should get it next year too. He is the President of the United States. And kid, you need to concentrate more on your work. How many line of code have you written lately? Count on your fingers and tell me.

Disaster!

This should have been my clue to back off. But I thought she won’t say anything that I won’t be able to write later. Also I am not always comfortable talking about my work. So I pressed on. This after all was a day of bad decisions.

P: Look Ma, he has done nothing really to deserve this. As for president, even I was the Class President in third grade and then I repeated the feat in seventh grade. Even now I am the President of my movie watching club. Obama might not be the president again.

Mom: Son, I love you, but let the truth be told. You bullied all those kids in third grade. In seventh, you were the only man amongst the few boys in a girl majority class. And I know how silly girls that age can be. And I also know that your club has just two members, you and Scooby. And I would hate if dogs presided over men, even you.

Who says he will not be the president next term? He will be. He is such a charming man.

P: If charms won you a Nobel, I would have got a few by now. Didn’t you just agree that I charmed the majority as early as seventh grade? Ma, even I am tall and dark and handsome. Two out of three at any rate. The way I am losing my hair I will soon be a better egg head than him.

Mom: I will have to give you that kid. But then he gives hope to people. Hope is what keeps people going. Oh! By the way clean the bathroom of your hair, it has started to flood now.

Now this is the thing with Moms of the world. They always remember cleaning. But I was not to be deterred today.

P: Ah mom! You have to bring such dirty things as cleaning into our so important discussion. We are talking about Nobel ma, not grocery list.

Have I not been giving you all hope mom? Haven’t all your hopes been pinned on me for so many years? If just giving hope is the big thing, then who is a better man than I?

Mom: Oh so you have started to make smart arguments! Unfortunately they are true. How hopeful we were when you were born. And hope it has remained.

I was all glee at this time.

P: See, that is what I am talking about.

Mom: But he speaks well at least. Such beautiful words, such clear thoughts!

This is when I thought I will be able to make this killer argument that I could not with my friends.

P: Ah, so we come to this finally. I have been paid to keep this secret, but I will give you some hints. Just between you and me.

1. Like every other great leader and orator he does not write his speeches.
2. Do you remember I was there in USA during his campaign, then I came home to return back just in time for his inauguration.
3. Even though I have not done a thing in my life, ever since I learnt how to speak I have said ‘yes we can’. And everyone else did. You know this one well.

Can you connect the dots now?

Mom: Oh My God! Oh My God! What are you saying kid.

P: He he he! And now I am worried about his acceptance speeches.

Mom: Acceptance speeches? But he got just one Nobel.

P: Oh Ma! You are so naive. Who do you think is going to win Miss World next? I think he will have to reuse the Nobel acceptance speech. After all it is going to be about the world peace only.

Mom: Oh son, you are such a genius, even though a strayed one. I don’t know if you should have got a Nobel. I surely think I want a Nobel for peace now for feeding and keeping up with you for decades.

There you are. Another claimant for my prize. But there is more to come.

Mom: By the way, you just said that you have been paid to keep things secret. That has to be a big money. Looks like its time you moved out. I will help you pack.

Needless to say I was broke (like always). I didn’t have the heart to tell her that gambling is such a messy thing. Of and on you lose some money.

I still didn’t have one person in the world to agree with me, but the pursuit had surely left me homeless, penniless and jobless (well, technically no so).

I now needed to sit down and concentrate and think about what to do next. I surely will not be looking for a Nobel. I think I need some coffee now. Starbucks to save my life!

Use it or lose it!

Is it time or is it youth or is it an opportunity? No silly, it’s your earned leaves. Never mind that you think that you have earned it, because you have not. It’s us, the masters of your universe who have given you this. So better use it or lose it! That is the policy change in the company that greeted me on my return to work. The earned leaves will now lapse if not used by the end of the year.

Now for the record, this is the only kind of leave I get. No sick leaves, no casual leaves and no any other kind of leave. I mean if I didn’t come to work today, because I died yesterday, they will deduct one of my earned leaves.

When I started to work here, friends and relatives would ask about the terms of employment and invariably about the number of leaves I was entitled to. They would always be shocked and I would always be embarrassed when I told them. But at least I could earn and save my leaves and use it per my convenience. I could just pile it up till I could get it encashed.

For the uninitiated, earned leaves are actually earned for each day of the work that you do. This is mandated by the government laws and there is a formula for the calculation. If you go on a leave of absence you don’t earn the leaves for those days. And when you have saved a certain number of leaves that you have earned, you could get it encashed by getting the salary for as many number of days.

But not any more, not in my company at least. In the middle of the global economic crisis when everyone preaches about saving your earnings, my company forces me to splurge.

Funny it is, how you tend to become spiritual when you sense the presence of some super being (that would be my HR managers) overseeing you. Your earned leaves are no more earned leaves. They are a gift, like the gift of time or youth. You have to use it now. Because tomorrow it will not be there. No they are not encashed, they are lapsed.

So take a vacation, or sit at home or best still go to work and don’t punch in and out. Just make sure that you have not more than half your leaves left by the end of the year.

Sometimes I think these guys are jealous of us. Jealous about how we settle down so fast with the changes despite the policy changes coming at frightening regularity. And no one seems to mind this policy change as well.

I wonder what they smoke. I just want to know so that I can keep away from it. And I demand to know what those five gentlemen were smoking when they voted for the Peace Nobel.

Footnote1: When I joined this company as a young, fresh, campus recruit, it used to be the most admired company in India. It’s been among top spots for years. Now it does not even figure in top twenty. Guess why? No, it’s not only because I work here.

Footnote2: I use up all my leaves every year and even go into leaves without pay (and not earn leaves for those days). But I still find this whole idea appalling.