Mahek..

My article "Mahek.." featured on the Youth Writing forum, The Youth Express

NITIE - a poet’s vision

Indeed NITIE has the most beautiful campus in the country. A place akin to a poet’s vision, very unlike the buzz of Mumbai!

And now the first images of the new academic block of NITIE

Courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/lifeatnitie
My final journey to this place: http://www.instinctivefist.blogspot.in/2011/04/mba-dream-successful-interviews-2.html

Sawaari Gadi

  

“Sawaari Gadi” – a common name for unreserved passenger trains running throughout the country on relatively short routes.

Recently, I refreshed a basic rural train journey from Muzaffarpur (the land of ‘Litchis’) to Narkatiyaganj, a small town (best known as the hometown of actor Manoj Bajpai), both in rural Bihar. The journey took me through small towns of Motipur, Mesna, Pipra, Motihari, Sugauli, Bettiah and Chanpaitya among others.

At around 4pm in the evening, I hesitantly walked along an all passenger train (Sawari Gadi) at the Muzaffarpur railway station. I was searching for a compartment empty enough for me to board. At the same time, buzz and smell of ‘samosas’ and maize or corn cooked over burning coal kept distracting me.

And in the train, there was absolutely no space to step foot in. The train was full, beaten in rush, perhaps only by Mumbai local trains in peak hours. I made a frantic call to a relative asking for an alternate way to commute. His experienced voiced cracked, “Hop in; the train would get empty soon.” As the train blew up a whistle and started moving, I desperately clung to the gate and squeezed my way inside trampling over ladies sitting near the train toilet. I used my elbows and side movements to quickly move inside, to avoid the curses I was being bestowed upon by the rural folks I had trampled, more than anything else.

I kept my luggage on the carrier rack after adjusting the strewn luggage on it. Then I stood precariously, not sure where my feet were, reclining against a side seat. Finding it best to blank my mind, I promptly did so and ignored frustrating cries from within. Pleasantly I was drawn into the vast multitude of colours of the people around me.

Incidentally a cricket match between Sri Lanka and India was in its final stages. I could hear the live commentary over the mobile phone of the boy sitting on the side seat over which I was reclining. Soon enthusiastic debate over half-baked information drawn through a DD1 telecast on a mobile phone sprung up. The mobile was special, not only it could stream live DD1 visuals but also had an antennae sticking out for better picture. As the train picked up speed, the signal was lost and it was left to our imagination what made of the final ball. Each one had their own assessment.

Having no way to ascertain the final score, the cricket fever lost momentum and everything began to quieten a bit. Suddenly there was a loud conversation on a mobile.

Someone said over the phone, “Gaiyaa ke bachra ke bagal me baate”

(It is next to the calf of the cow)

A potbellied uncle found this amusing and shouted over his voice, “Kaa bate bacharwa ke bagal me” (What is it next to the calf of the cow?)

There were a few appreciative giggles around but most found this important conversation not worth disturbing.

Another conversation caught my attention, this time political-

“Lalu Jadav auri Jagannath Misheer barbaad kai dele san Bihar ke, jaat paat pe vibhajit kaile san” (Lalu Yadav and Jagannath Mishra ruined Bihar, they divided people based on caste).

Time passed on thus, and daylight began to dim. As told to me earlier, the number of passengers began decreasing. I found a seat for myself. Sitting there and looking over, I realized the “Sawaari Gadi” was easily a vital lifeline for local commerce. On it went back and forth the rural folk to their homes and market places to sell their goods.

But my journey was far from over. A man was heard saying loudly, “Ee samaan kekar girataa”, “raur bate ka chacha”. (Whose luggage is it, falling? Is it your Uncle?)

An elderly voice replied from somewhere, “Haan hamare baa, thik se dhaiyi da” (Yes it’s mine, keep it properly)

The person sitting in front of me was anxiously looking around. At a certain station, new faces filled in. He saw a boy with a mobile phone and asked for his battery, the battery of the boy’s Micromax mobile. Apparently the poor man’s mobile’s battery had gone dead. The boy offered the mobile instead. The man said he needed to get the number too from his mobile. The boy opened up his cell and gave him the battery.

I had left a copy of the ToI newspaper on one of the luggage racks. I saw many browse it over and then keep it back at its original position just the way it was. No permission sought or enquiry made. It was used as a public property and also respected in the way it was browsed, read and kept back.

Apparently the train was moving fast till then without stopping midway or without stopping at stations more than it was necessary.

“Trainwa thik chala tia”, a passenger exclaimed. (The train is running fine)

Second passenger added, “Haan kauno crossing na dewe ke padal haa” (Yes, there was no need to give pass to any other train)

Perhaps this was spoken a bit too soon. The train halted amid sugar cane fields before the Sugauli railway station. Drawing inspiration from each-other, students in the compartment raided the fields for all the sugarcane sticks they could carry. Then they rushed back inside at the whistle of the train, a signal that it would move.

Interestingly all the chewed sugarcane leftover and remains of groundnuts (peas) were thrown inside the compartment and not outside the window. Probably a community habit.

After a short halt at the Sugauli railway station, the train started to pull out of the station. I bought a cup of tea from a boy tea-vendor.

The tea boy said to me, “Jaldi paeesa dee, utare ke baa” (Give money quickly, I have to get down)

I handed over the money when a co-passenger said, “Ego auri daa” (Give another cup of tea)

The tea boy promptly replied, “Naa mili ab” (Now you won't get it), and jumped off the train.

We moved ahead. Around that place, I spotted at least a couple of big sugar cane processing mills and they were running. A positive change from a few years earlier when most of the mills were nothing but sick.

Inside, I noticed that several people, if not all, took turns to have their tobacco shots. Each person carried a small plastic box to carry tobacco. At regular interval, tobacco was rubbed meticulously with the first finger and the thumb while the tobacco was held in the left hand. Then it was religiously put between teeth and lips and the person became quiet and lost for some time. The sales boys selling “Shikhar”, “Bahar” (forms of Gutka) and cigarette, together with the boys selling tea did a brisk business.

All this while there were a few people who chose to sleep on the luggage carrying racks, (like an upper berth in a regular train). They slept their way to the destination, oblivious to intermittent fun and frolic around. However the chill and the befalling night made everyone numb and drowsy.

The reverie was suddenly broken by a harsh penetrating voice, “Torch, ghadi, ghadi ka belt, mobile phone, mobile ka cover”. (A hawker shouted- Torch, Watch, Watch-belt, Mobile phone, mobile cover..)

The tone and style drew instant curiosity and then laughter.

As the train chugged on, the passengers again drifted in sleep. But the train came to a halt, prompting many to get anxious and angry and talkative.

A person in skull cap with a white beard and wearing an old white sports shoe broke in the silence, talking to the man sitting next to him, he said, “Aiza khaye ke khali chana mili Chanpatiya le, jahan tap ba Bagha, khaye ke niman samaan mile lagi” (All you will get to eat is ‘chana’ till Chanpatiya. Once you cross Bagha, you will begin to get good things to eat)

Getting only a nod and no reply, he added after a brief pause, “Kul tempo wala auri rickshaw wala johat hoiye san” (All the auto drivers and rickshaws pullers would be waiting for us at the station).

He managed to extract a chuckle this time. Finding a positive response, the skull cap wearing man added, “Driver khaye ke rakhale baa engine me. Khaat jata, kaa farak padta auri kehu khaye chahe naa khaye” (The engine driver has kept food for himself in the engine. He eats while driving the train. How does it matters to him whether anyone else eats or not!)

The skull cap man then engaged his co-passenger with whereabouts of his residence.

Skull cap man, “Chowk pe ghar bate?”

(Is your home at the ‘chowk’?)

Co-passenger, “Naa auri bheetar jake bate, gauwa me”

(No, it is further ahead, in the village)

Skull cap man said, “Bansi ji ke ghar se kenne?”

(Where is it from Bansi’s house?)

Co-passenger, “Bansi ji ke baad Chuki khatal se dahine”

(Right to the Chuki shed after Bansi’s house)

Skull cap man said, “Uhe gawuan me?”

(In the same village?)

Co-passenger, “Abbe kahan, uhaan se auri aage, chaura ke godam lage”

(Not so soon, further ahead from there, near the godown for beaten rice)

Then the train chugged on and the skull cap man diligently rubbed on his tobacco.

A station, Bettiah arrived and another set of crowd packed in.

Silence, a bit more permanent, descended with a song playing in the back ground, “Kisi nazar ko aap ka intezar aaj bhi hai…”

The journey continued into the night..

Levels 012345...

This idea springs because I tend to get comfortable with life. 

Recently I took an auto from NITIE to IIT. Both are in Bombay a few kilometres apart. The auto-driver asked me. “Aap log andar karte kya ho?”

Having not fully understood his context, I asked him what he meant. He said that he never sees much activity outside the colleges. Students or whoever are inside mostly keep to themselves.

How could I possibly answer a gullible auto-driver what people did inside NITIE and the IIT?

I said, “College me kafi kaam rehta hai, hum ander hi busy rehte hain. Padhai, events, sessions kuch na kuch chalta rehta hai.”

Not convinced, he asked me where we had our food. Now that was a stupid question even though it came from him.

…

…

And now it’s early morning. A few moments ago, I was looking outside the window. It’s around 6 am and still very much dark here in Mumbai. Up in the sky I saw a continuously moving flicker of light. “It’s an airplane”, I convinced myself.

“But where is it flying to?”

“What is the pilot thinking?”

“Where could the passengers be heading to at such an hour?”

“Is it a cargo plane?”

“What will make of the airline industry?”

Looking back, I feel sympathetic to the auto-driver as I realize that I have no idea now.

And the next thing that comes to my mind is “Get Idea”.

This is bad. I am overwhelmed by the small world that I know of. The only solace is that most people are. 

Earlier as a software engineer I had little idea what a supply chain is or what a viral marketing is. Now I do have some inkling. While the information revolution is fast adding dimensions to my common sense, I also need to disconnect. Disconnect from the knowledge and information that I have to explore and learn new things, meet new people and understand new businesses.

It can be very satisfying to sell software to gullible corporates or meet monthly target of selling credit cards. It gives a sense of purpose and a sense of achievement. Yes, I did my job and Yes, I did it well. I can look myself in the mirror and smile.

Wait a minute, but that can be true of the auto-driver or a day labourer at a construction site. Even that person does his work well and goes home happily. Then why did I or so many others strive for better things? Is my mind playing tricks on me? Irrespective of what I do, as long as I do it well, I am happy. But should I be doing it in the first place? Perhaps if I do not meet my monthly target, it will release bandwidth for me to explore more. May be the next thing I stumble upon satisfies me more. But here’s the catch. It is a never ending loop.

How long can I keep experimenting and not do my job well?

I am reminded of a relevant quote by Jack Welch. Let me Google it.

Yea got it:

Look, anyone can manage for the short term just keep squeezing the lemon. And anyone can manage for the long just keep dreaming. You were made leader because someone believed you could squeeze and dream at the same time. They saw in you a person with enough insight, experience, and rigor to balance the conflicting demands of short- and long-term results. Performing balancing acts every day is leadership

So here we are. A tough nut to crack. Doing well what we have to and then, perhaps, relying upon innate energy and passion to explore more. To be humble to listen, be quick to understand, communicate, drop the mediocrity, see the fact as it is, weigh out the opportunities, test the water (with one foot), commit and plunge.

Reading fiction, playing games, arguing, watching plays and chasing girls were not a waste after all. At some point each helped me explore more and balance between desires and resources. It helped me reach the next level! 

Levels in a game as the levels in life. Each level is fun and challenge. But what do we play for! Moving to the next level is the Game…

Perhaps the Entrepreneurial Summit that I went to attend at IIT is good!

Of Shoes and Slaps!

Had to put this into perspective, after all our respected Union Agriculture Minister, Sharad Pawar was slapped in full public view by a common man.

Slaps and slippers are finding their way on the face and dais of our politicians. It’s a recent phenomenon, starting perhaps with the “shoeing” of George Bush in Baghdad by Muntadhar al-Zaidi. The wiki page for the “Shoeing” has ever been increasing in length since then.

The list of people who were shoed at includes such dignitaries as

George W. Bush- ex-president of US

Wen Jiabao-Chinese Premier

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad- Iranian President

Pervez Musharraf- former President, Pakistan

In the Indian context, the list is impressive and includes politicians and criminals alike. While P.Chidambaram, Manmohan Singh, Yeddyurappa have had their tryst with shoeing, this phenomenon found a new dimension with the slapping of Sharad Pawar.

The Gen-Next of India is not ready to accept the business as usual. The inertia and tolerance that were taken for granted do not find any resonance any more. While the youth has found a channel for growth through education, higher income and global perspectives, the politicians and PSU professionals are still old and archaic. Nothing that is printed or heard is taken at the face value. The coming has been slow, but the media of mass communication, especially mobile and internet have empowered people immensely and given them the freedom to question and build a hunger for change.

The old and the mediocre have to change. Now.

The idea of unquestionable respect for the elderly is no more accepted. Age might give experience but that is compensated by lack of energy and enthusiasm. The young see themselves on the same footing as the elderly.

The source of hypocrisy prevalent in the Indian society is apparent from instances and dealings all around.

In a class in a reputed college, the professor came in full one hour late and continued to teach beyond the scheduled time. A student gathers courage to point out that there is another event lined up for the students. This was sufficient reason for the professor to humiliate and scold the poor student for the next half an hour. He was enraged because he was interrupted and someone had dared to question him. He asked the class to get their priority right and decide if the class was more important or something else. And all this for wasting the time of the students!

In the RTO office of Bangalore, a clerk was whiling away his time. He returned to his desk, adjusted his chair, and picked up a file, then another, then another. Then he shouted over for the peon and acted as if he was expecting him any moment. Then the clerk started chatting with his colleague, apparently waiting for the peon. The poor common man said, “Sir, kindly have a look at these papers”. The clerk raised his eyebrows and asked the customer to fill the form properly and resumed his chatting. Another youth next in the line asked the clerk sternly to look at his papers. The clerk got up from his seat and went away. This is haughtiness beyond reason.

At a nationalized bank branch in Mumbai, I came across a man with a strange expression on his face. He had big eyes with a protruding jaw line. He got to my account opening form simultaneously gossiping with his peers, updating his subordinates and signing my papers. His facial expression was peculiar as he effortlessly switched between anger and a smile/laugh with that expression. Within a fraction of seconds, he twitched his facial muscles into gay abandon to chat to his colleague, shout angrily at his subordinate and sign my papers with indifference!

The world has evolved. In the past two decades such jobs have been created that never existed before. People have found new sources of inspiration and global benchmarks. But the older folks seem oblivious to the change around them. A slap here and a shoe there are immediate insulin shots to bring down them to reality.

And there are no excuses. An employee is shown the door if he doesn’t performs; a student fails if he doesn’t studies, the earth rotates and the clock moves. It is simple. No one is ready for excuses. If there is a problem with the system, the people responsible need to fix it. Now

The punishment for such shoeing and slapping are not stringent and cannot be. But they attract enough attention to make the point apparent. Will these acts stop? Certainly not in near future. The question to ask is

Who will be next?

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shoeing