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The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom –
Jon Stewart

The Market Dance

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Not far from where we live is a market. Market… as in market. No. Not the stock market. And of course, me talking about the stock market, would be as neat as George Bush talking of Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq !
This market seamless merges with the main road ! There are no barricades etc. So, one wrong swerve of a steering wheel would mean a bus ploughs into this market. Standing at the beginning of this market, this is the picture of the traffic on the other side.



A walk down this road introduces you to innovations and ways of life where nothing is taken for granted. Where there is a elbow room created from nowhere, that would put the best magicians in the world to shame !

And the different variety of things that you can set your sights on can have the best supermarkets in the world scooting for cover. And of course, lets not talk prices.

For getting the best prices however, there is a little ‘dance of an exchange’ that’s done with the seller.

Step 1: Ask for a price
Step 2 : Express surprise at whatever price quoted
Step 3 : Quote a fraction of what was quoted as buying price ( in confident tone )
Step 4 : ( Upon being refused ) walk away or make pretense of walking away
Step 5 : ( Upon being called back ) come back and start at step 2 !
( If not called back ) Go back and start confidently at Step 2.

Like many other things in life, the fine nuance this dance, is something that i sorely lack. Of when to start / stop. Expressing of genuine surprise etc occur like an aspiring untalented stage actor.

Many other times, i turn to the wife and express surprise at the price she closed the deal ! Inviting much dismay and irritation. And of course, a suggestion to walk around independently. To not understand that would mean an IQ quotient in the negative i think.

So. An aimless open mouth gaping at all the sights of the market results in a few pictures. And of course, this post.


Mountains of clothes. And every market day, there is a new sky scrapper that comes up. And disappears at the end of day. Again, at prices that would make you look for a atom bomb to drop on the branded stores just across the store ! ( ‘DIESEL’ says a T-Shirt. He sells it for Rs. 100/-. He looks at me, and says, ‘Use and throw sir’) !

Pic 6


And there are numerous other markets within this market. The exchange that’s happening here (pic 6) is that of tea ! Where a ‘vendor of toothbrushes & other oral equipment’ picks up his morning tea from a ‘vendor of Tea’ ! The tea vendor moves about with his flask in hand. As the corporate types would call him, he is a Business to Business B2B marketer !



And so you get fruits, ropes, baskets all within the same stretch. All beautiful to look at. All wonderfully made. And all being shouted about. There is so much of din that you wonder if anyone is selling ear plugs ! And then realise that it is music to the ears of all those who are serious about purchase !


And then you spot a flute vendor. Flutes ? In this market ? You wonder. But he has walked on. Flutes ! You think. That’s some music !




Its all happening here. Bangles. Trinkets. Hairbands. Food. Ties. Socks. Shoes. Belts. Handkerchiefs. Flutes. Toothbrushes. Caps. Washing powder. Groceries. Ropes. Fruits. Vegetables. Mosquito repellents. Nets. And sooooo on. And of course, tea.

And as the beads of sweat form on your forehead, you realise that there is just no limit to human enterprise. And that the lessons to learn are immense. And the first one the list of things to learn, is that dance !!

PS : This post was inspired by the Market Day meme at Strange Pilgram

Transformation !

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To the uninitiated, this photograph may pass to be a boy next door. Or perhaps a snap from some nondescript place. To me this seems like a boy pulled out from the the middle of mid summer day cricket match. Or out of a juvenile home. Or out of typical scenes from a movie. And so on. ! I mean, the ‘next-door’ ‘ next-door’ type.

Wouldn’t you agree ?

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And so, it must have taken a awesome effort, mindless grind, endless passion, untold determination and some sprinkling of luck to emerge as this man.


Personally, the music this man composes just blows a whole lot of people away. And if there are any left standing, the humility he exudes, takes care. Some people inspire by the way they are. He is one.

It must have taken all that awesome effort, mindless grind and endurance to get there ! And of that this man is testimony to. And sure he has found riches awaiting !

Whilst there are others who rake in the riches by making a story of the transformation ! Just putting photo one and two together, writing well, and putting it out as a magazine !!

And to see this wall poster advertisement for a Tamil magazine, right here in Mumbai made the missus nudge and my camera capture !

And her comment that about those that still believe that ‘hope is a method’ was of course not directed at me. Really.

She told me. Ok ?

Whats on the dish ?

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‘Do you have dish at home ?’ is a question that has no bearing to whats usually in the kitchen. For the dishes that are more mainstream than the ones in the kitchen are the ones that adorn terraces and balconies ! The dishes provide entertainment !

Yes. Satellite receivers. Or whatever they are. Every respectable neighbourhood worthy of its air, has dishes that sprout. Forget affluent residential premises.

Village houses sport them. Slums sport them. It is mainstream ! Really.

Many years ago, we used to have skeleton like antenna in the terrace. And that used to get to the desultory colour TV programs like Krishi Darshan and Chitrahaar.

But the most prominent amongst them all was the English News. Watched promptly, every night at 9.00 PM. More for picking up the language than for understanding what was with the country !

The newer generation would perhaps not know the likes of Neethi Ravindran, Rini Simon, Preet.K.S. Bedi, Geetanjali Iyer, Tejeshwar Sigh, Bhaskar Bhattacharjee and Minu…. ( i am unable to recall all of them ) read the news. With impeccable pronunciation ( at least that’s how it seemed to me back then) and neat rendering ! The signature tune of the 9 0 clock news seems still new in my mind !

The modern days, are different. You have smart technology, and ‘news anchors’ who for some reason have to have a laptop in front of them. (Sometimes i wonder if they play solitaire of some arbid game over there). What else do you do when you have breaking news like ‘Billi Bolta hai’ ( a cat is speaking ) is a scroll !! Sigh !


And with OB vans, and microphones passed on to people who seem keen to scale a quick height by making a Kanchenjunga from their backyard mud… there are bound to be some intensely comical scenes.

Like the young ‘journalist’ who thrusts the microphone just under the nose of the wife of a Sri Lankan cricketer. (A cricketer who has been injured in the terrorist attack in Pakistan). And posts the question, ‘ so were you praying for your husbands safety when you heard of the attack ?’

The lady was polite and answered in the affirmative. I mean, i could have said something like ‘Not really. I was actually praying for the pizza to arrive on time’ !

But of course, these are not Neethi Ravindran or Rini Simon. And todays language education happens through 160 characters. Of a text message.

So, todays news is about cats, dogs, politicians, suits, big screens, thumping voices and entertainment. And there is never ending repeat telecasts.

So there. Go on. Watch the news. While i think of Ms. Ravindran !

Horses For Courses

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Vijay Mallya will be a happy man today. A passerby said. And i would have wondered who this blok is, who understand who or what will make Vijay Mallya happy. But not today. For we were at the Race course.

A couple of weeks back, we went to the Race Course. The Mahalakshmi Race Course in Mumbai. And no, not yet. I am not interested in that kind of jackpot. For it was curiosity and a persistent fitness conscious friend that took me there. Upon reaching there i was told that it was Derby day that day. And activities would commence in the evening !

We went early in the morning. As he sweated out, jogging and working out, i walked around. Looking at the majestic horses, their canter, gallops and neighs. And of course, the jockeys.

And of course, early morning, fitness conscious men and women. Running, jogging, walking, chatting and generally, adding a different dimension to the horse filled arena ! Here are some pictures.

I haven’t stopped wondering the strange highs that men get. Out of seeing animals race each other. For i stood there, and watched many of those horses gallop by. The sheer majesticity was fulfilling. But quite obviously, the likes of Vijay Mallya don’t share my sentiment. That is why they are where they are. And that is also why this blog goes on.

To top it up, there was Melba toast and Cardamon tea from the restaurant there ! The restaurant called ‘Gallops’ ! The members get to sit and talk about the horses in an aristocratic enclave. I am told that the fancy hats that members and their companions sport are a real attraction !

I touched my head and felt the balding plate. And went for the Melba toast & tea. Sitting in what seemed to be the backyard !


Hey who cares. The horses had the first right. All else were secondary here. I would like to imagine, ‘Vijay Mallya included’. For some reason, “all animals are equal some are more equal ” resonated differently.

The next morning, i read that Vijay Mallya went back a not so happy man. I wonder how his horse felt.

Bloggers Meet !

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He has sat with this post on draft mode for two days now. Caught between travel and work, he just cant seem to get words into his keyboard. So he writes. He rewrites. Shakes his head in disgust. He shuts the computer down in a huff. And then walks away.

Comes back. And repeats this process many times.

His word tap sputters and coughs. Much like the municipal taps that supply drinking water in a suburban town. Much noise. Much hiss. Occasional drip. But no steady flow of water. He wonders why words have deserted him these days. Perhaps it is to do with the joy of meeting them.

With little patience left, bearing a tired body and weary eyes, he decides to be authentic. And presents his sputter – sputter – cough right there. Much like municipal tap in peak summer !

They met. Those bloggers. Once again. The first time around, was when they put the face to the home page. This time around, they put a soul to the face ! Comprehensive description has been blogged here. And here. And here.

Exchanged in good earnest were the following. Chatter. Banter. Some gossip. Opinions. Thoughts. Advice. Wishes. Leg pulling. And some sizzle.

On a Saturday afternoon, they began where they had left off. Like old school friends. And left off again, easily, when they had to move. Sure they would meet again !

They went dutch. Like last time. Pooled in money. Counted notes like high school kids who had just bunked class and went to a fancy restaurant with pocket money saved for months !

Total clean fun. Simply sizzled !

He thanked the stars and the Gods above. For a group of friends like this. They not only read his blog, but leave comments as well.

And then, they come together and spend time like old friends. People who share a similar journey on the blog world.

One who pushed his trip back home, so that he could be here. Another who was making an important investment decision. People who he had met in person only three months back…

And as if that was not enough, ofcourse the gifts flew in as well. One of them brought a neat writing pad for everybody.

And another had made a mango dish, packed it in a bowl and presented it in a handmade bag.

And ofcourse, he better thank his stars. For the friends. For the internet. For their reading. For their leaving a comment. For their taking time off to get together.

And when he reaches home, his missus, tastes the mango dish and says, ‘finally. Finally. Finally, your blog feeds me’ !

Phew. Now thats the closest he has ever gotten to official recognition for his blog. And so he believes God is in his heaven, and all is right with the world !!

Shoe Story !

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Pic from web

So there is lot of news. About Jeetendra. About L.K.Advani. About Navin Jindal. And ofcourse about P.Chidambaram. And a host of others. Which includes Narendra Modi for putting up a volleyball net !

A kid in India with average IQ would point his footwear at you, if you mention these names in unison. Hold on. Its not (necessarily) an insult. But hey, footwear is the connecting factor ! Or rather footwear being hurled at these gentlemen is the connecting factor.

To me it reads like this is best proof that advertising works. With brands slogans like ‘Just Do It’ and ‘Impossible is Nothing’ we have proof finally.

But hey, the trend is disturbing. To say the least. And of course, footwear sales will take off. But that’s the only respite. Of all the grand thoughts that pop up in the mind, this is particular cause for worry : There is a surfeit of chappals available. Especially if you are looking for some.

In India, it is common for us to leave behind footwear at the door ! Of temples. Diagnostic centres. Hospitals. Some offices. Homes. Dentist. Marriage halls. Some have polite requests and other have terse one liners all to the effect of ‘leave your footwear at the door’ It was all ok till a few weeks back.

But not now. For, it is a potential weapon ! There are countries ( you know which ones ) where owning a gun is common place and pumping a bullet because the coffee tasted different is like your car hitting a pothole. You dont like it. But you are not surprised either.

And now in India, you have have chappals available and lying around. All you need is a strong arm, a strange calling and a steady aim. (The steady aim is relatively unnecessary i guess. None of the hurled footwear have found their target thus far ). All of them have made a symbolic point and forced some action and provided the media with options for hurling ‘Breaking News’ !

But here is my question. If somebody borrows / steals your car ( God forbid) and crashes into someone else ( God forbid ), the first person the cops come to is YOU.

If some one hacked your computer to send a terror message ( God Forbid ) you could land in jail. At least for a few weeks / months / years before you are cleared. etc etc !

So now, if you wear a high heeled gum boots and someone flicks it when you are in deep prayer, with the doctor or generally having a momentary lapse of reason. And then, hurls your high heeled gum boots at a ‘Mr. Z category’… finds the mark, leaves the Z category with a gash…

Will you boldly claim the shoe ?

It seems.

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Of the many wonders of the natural world, the one that occupies attention span is what seems to be the battle between man and nature. 

As man goes about burning up the forests, chewing up the last available shark, and overturning the what were mountains and diverting what were waterway, nature seems to grin and bear.  


Amidst man made smoke, machine finished roads, in the thick of concrete buildings, are natures signs of survival. At least that’s how they appear to me : Plants !!! These are not potted plants, grown for the sake of ‘greenery in the balcony’. 

These are plants that have grown with whatever was available. Clinging to the moisture that is available on the sides of drainage pipes and spreading roots into concrete. These are not creepers. These are plants that have taken root in concrete. 

And as man drains out nature’s resources, nature seems to be doing its bit by holding on to his drainage pipes.  Who will have the last laugh is a laughable question. For it doesn’t have to be asked. 

For now, the concrete towers seem to be rising. And the nature resides in the drainage pipe. Forests keep burning. The smoke keeps raising. And diplomats converge in the capitals of the world. And ofcourse, Our Environment is ‘debated‘. 

Alls well with the world.  

It Seems.  

 

Breaking News.

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A dramatic event occurred in Santa Cruz, Mumbai today.  
This is an exclusive coverage on 

LMNOP Digital HIgh Speed blah blah TV 365 X 365 !

( For most accurate experiencing of this, please read with dramatisation, ‘correct’ pronounciation and gestures bordering on hysteria. OK ? Or just flick that TV remote on and settle for a news channel )

At around 1.00 PM, when the temperature was reported to be hovering around 40 degree, sirens pierced the afternoon air. Heads turned. People stopped doing whatever they were doing. The others peeped through the windows. Those that had a window for the door and the sky for the roof, squinted to see what the fuss was about. 


A fire engine appeared.  True to form, stopped some distance away. There has been intense debate about ‘fire in the belly’ for politicians.  And perhaps some one called for a fire tender !


And then, in some time our crew found a crow whose wing had gotten entangled to string,  struggling to free itself. This perhaps was a string that was used to fly a kite some time back. For all its flaps, the bird  got further entangled. 

The firemen demurred. And got to work.  A crowd gathered. Everybody looked up into the sky. And some genuinely surprised that all this ado is about a crow.  Others very happy that someone took the step of calling the firemen at the plight of the crow. 

An old lady who lived in the house next door steps out spoke to us. ( Camera Pans ) 

‘Oh, I thought, someone in our building committed suicide’.  She continued, ‘last week, a tree fell in my backyard. I called the firemen. Nobody turned up. Now they have come for the crow’ ! She said. 

And then, looked into the sky at the crow and its struggle to break free, and said, ‘poor thing’ while walking away.  

There are three hundred and twenty two people  in the crowd. And suddenly, a parcel of crows arrived on the scene. All crowing madly.  

Its the peak afternoon heat. And it was getting to everybody. The firemen. The onlookers. The neighbours. And the crow that was hanging in the balance. 

To cut a long story short, the crow was rescued. And the firemen walked away with the crow ! And someone in the crowd shouted, ‘go send it to Maneka Gandhi‘. Someone else said, ‘this is what the firemen are trained to do. Catch crows’.  

In the meanwhile the parcel of crows that were there, have flown in the direction of the first minister that they can sight for a ‘fly-in crowing dharna’. Unconfirmed sources also state that they are reported to be on the look out for slippers. The public are requested to watch out for them. 

The crows were unavailable for comment. We will be staying on course to update you on the latest on this epic crow saga. 

If you liked this story send an SMS to 39492384234 typing ‘YES’. If otherwise type ‘NO’. In anycase, 77.8 % have already voted that they liked this story. This is exclusive breaking news that you are First seeing here. Stay tuned to get updated.

Such news of national existential importance can be tracked on our website as well. 24 hours a day 365 days a year. We will be the first to deliver… ! 

This story will continue to be breaking news until the next crow gets entangled, the cow drinks Coke, the giraffe trips over an electric pole, the local politician speaks his natural game or if nothing else materialises, perhaps until some wisecrack stays off rice. 
 

Egg Yoke ! a.k.a Pedal Power – Part -II

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Its peak traffic. Buses hoot. And supply some free soot. Cars compete with each other, with a buzz about them, that it seems that they are girding their loins for the Nano. The policeman swears. This time, cursing the sun. The signal stays red. 

From the confines of his car, he sees a tower go by, on a bicycle. 

A tower of eggs ! Balanced neatly by a middle aged man, with rolled up trousers and a run down bicycle. He too awaits the signal to turn green. The signal stays red. The sun beats down. 

From his car, he looks intently at the big tower of eggs on the pillion. Each egg seems well ensconced. Smug. And unaware of whats coming its way. Perhaps the eggs were enjoying the sights. And of course, all sights are different, when there is elevation ! 

“Mass produced eggs”, he says aloud, to himself. The still air in the company devoid car soaks up what he speaks. “Eggs that are shorn of love but rich in protein and cholesterol and such else ! Eggs that are produced for the sole purpose of consumption ! Eggs that would disintegrate into an unrecognisable form upon being dropped or broken open !” 

Today, those fragile eggs seemed to sit pretty in the security of the pillion, the balance and the sun !  The sun continued to beat down. The signal stays red. 

In the blurr of the heat, he continues to stare into the Egg Tower. And suddenly, he sees his apartment complex in that egg tower !  And he smiles. Yes, he says. 

All eggs. All proper eggs ! 

The B-School type, the diamond trader type, the ex-army types, the corporate type. And all their families.  He sighs. He recalls watching children swear at the security gaurd, in front of their parents.  And ofcourse, he turns away, when a corporate type throws garbage in the alleyway. He stood perplexed when he caught his neighbour steeling his morning newspaper. 

Proper eggs.  He thinks.  He rewinds. And replays.  

Mass produced eggs. Eggs that are shorn of love but rich in protein and cholesterol and such else ! Eggs that are produced for the sole purpose of consumption ! Eggs that would disintegrate into an unrecognisable form upon being dropped or broken open ! The sun continues to beat down. 

And then, the signal turns green. That tower of eggs makes progress and moves away. 

‘Proper Eggs’, he says again.  This time, he includes himself.  

He looks in the rear view mirror and purses his lips as his alter ego tells him, that his yoke is his silence. It makes him culpable. He thinks so.   

In some time he hits a clear stretch and accelerates. That egg tower on the pillion is gone. But his yoke tower seems to stay with him. With a felt presence. Clear stretch or otherwise. 



Naah-No gazing !

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Its been on the dinner table for some time. As conversation that is. Its been on the parliament’s table. For the same reason. And its been successful fodder to trainers and training programs : For a variety of reasons. ‘Innovation’. ‘Self Belief’. ‘Keeping a promise.’ ‘Positioning’. And an endless more.

Finally, the rubber is meeting the road. After all ! Yes. The Nano is here. You can buy one online ! But hold on. Hold on. Dont go away. This is not yet another post cooing the wonder that this is becoming ! This post isn’t about the Nano.

(You sure must have read about the cobbler and the bus conductor queueing up to buy. And amongst the many images, i am also told by a neighbour of those driving into a Tata Dealership in a Ford Endeavour to check it out for their ‘college going daughter’. It would have fit into his Endeavour as a take away from a restaurant would have !!)

Closer home, a friend’s friend, has booked 3 Nanos for the home. For the wife. For the mother. And one, generally. Monthly installments on the car, my friend supposes to range in the range of Rs.1,500/- ( $ 30 ). Suddenly, the car becomes a distinct possibility for a small man like me.

Ok. Ok. No. No. This post isn’t about any of that.

This is a crystal ball gazing post into the middle and long term future. And now, armed with the might of my incisive arm chair wisdom & a looming Monday, these are predictions of what the Nano will do.

With the rich, the middle class, the inbetweens, the pretenders and just about everyone else ( save Mamta Banerjee ) wanting to get one, Indian roads are all set to change. India too is all set to change !

Circa 2015


a. Employment Generation increases manifold : You need more policemen on the road. More mechanics. More arbitrators. More insurance agents. More scrap dealers. More driving schools. More RTO offices to grant driving licences. More agents in the same RTO offices. More road building machines. More operators of those machines …. You get the idea right ?

b. Construction industry is booming: With all the world on the road, where would you park. Of course, Parking skyscrapers are being built. And cars would be parked right up there !

Corporations across the country have made it mandatory for apartment complexes to house one more sky scrapper : The parking sky scrapper. With five cars for a four member family, you wouldnt owners to park in living rooms right ?

c. Meters’ Down : For the rest of the folks who still have resisted the revolution and chosen to go without purchasing the Nano are travelling by Nano taxis ! Mumbai no longer has Premier Padminis as Taxis. And Kolkatta has consigned all Ambassador taxis to Singur.

d. Fashions’ Up : Fashion officianados make their cars fashionable. Paint their cars with objectionable images and articulate graffiti. If some local leader, didnt like it, they scrap the paint. If it costs as much as it does to buy, it costs a fraction to paint ! Better still buy a new one !

e. And a new culture is born: There is peace and harmony in the lives of all Tata Nano homes. When other cars bump into them, they are remarkably calm. If a police officer catches them doing something wrong, they are remarkably calm. For they have in them, the right of first refusal. I mean, they hand over the keys to whoever cares in that area, and walk away !

f. Shoe sales is way up : Seriously. Now hold your breadth. Drivers, owners and brand loyalists of other cars are jealous of the Nano and its mass appeal. With a general air of irritability, they have been throwing their shoes around ! Now, a common habit ,that was introduced to them in 2009. So, shoe production is up !

Naah-No !?!