Of human bondage

Emotional attachment is what differentiates humans from most other living beings. We tend to develop a sense of bonding with people around us, right from childhood. We become attached to people we meet in the family, at schools & colleges, work places etc. The number of bonds increase with time, as we meet new people and the existing bonds grow deeper. Psychology tells us that this attachment is a human need and that we cannot live alone all by ourselves.

There may be several reasons for which people need these kinds of attachments. Attachments create a kind of trust in the person to whom we are attached – much like the way we undoubtedly assume that a beautiful girl is also very good at heart. The belief that we have a lot of friends and relatives gives us emotional and social security. We feel comforted that we have people with whom we can share our joys and sorrows, and seek help in times of need. We turn to them for direction and guidance when we have to make decisions. We turn to them for support when we feel low in life and share things with them when we are happy. And we believe that people help us selflessly, just because we are their friends/ relatives.

I have always believed that this bondage is the most beautiful thing in the world - the feeling that tied me to people around me, that gave me happiness when they were happy, that pulled me down when they were suffering, that made me think of their problems as my own and attempt to figure out solutions. It is this bonding that made me actively participate {interfere, rather} in others lives and advise them many times, even when they have not asked for it. All that I wanted was to make things easy for my near and dear ones. I wanted to share things I learned and help them avoid mistakes I have already made. I feel that there is no good in each one making the same mistakes, each generation should at least progress to make new mistakes rather than repeat the ones of the old. There was a sense of responsibility I felt and tried to help in my own way.

I wouldn't say that I have been living my life entirely for others. I have my own dreams and ambitions to pursue, but when my dreams came in the way of relations, I tried to be accommodative. And of course, there were trade offs I had to make in terms of time and other things. I never grudged because, as far as I knew, the bonding is what made life worthy and I derived happiness in being of help to others.

I had an idealized view that people should be selfless in relations. But the realization came as I started to understand the true need of attachments for most people. It came soon, and came more than once - to reinforce the learning - from people who want to cash in on my attachment, to people who want to save their professional networks by giving me an advise that they themselves did not believe in. And so, I realized that for most people these attachments are a means to achieve their goals, professional or personal. When I realized that the people I held very dear to my heart are not angels and wouldn't mind using me up if they needed, the bonds broke. All those attachments I nourished and cherished, all those attachments in which I found happiness, all those attachments that limited me vanished into thin air. I started feeling detached from people and the world.

I don't think it will be very difficult for me to take this. I love myself the most and I have a feeling that I am born to do some great things. This detachment is only helping me to shed the useless luggage I have been carrying so far in my walk towards my goal. In fact, it has made things a lot easier for me now. I am lucky that the lesson came soon, for, it would have been very difficult to take it at a later date. As we age, our thinking becomes rigid and we loose the ability to assimilate new learnings. Our heart will not want to accept things even if the mind sees them as clear as a day.

Trying to achieve your goals is fine as long as you work for them. But trying to use friends and relatives to achieve your means tantamounts to misusing the trust bestowed upon you. It makes your goals meaner, even if they are the most noble goals.

Old friends

Meeting old friends is a very refreshing experience, especially after you realise that the friendship and solidarity hasn't changed a bit even after a long time. I was lucky to meet one this weekend, my B.Tech classmate, room neighbour and close friend.

I met him first at Sarayu, our first year hostel at Madras. His room was one room away from mine. After the first introductions, I realised that he was more or less like me, a calm going guy with a modest background. We struck a chord, and though we belonged to different departments and studied different subjects, we talked regularly. It was from him that I got to know the names of most professors from other departments, the happenings in the class rooms and even got the material for course work I had to do in the second semester.

If you were asked about a friend from your past, there would definitely be one or two characteristic traits that you would distinctly remember about him/her – a thing or two they said in the first meeting or something about them that captures your attention. When I think of him, there are two such traits that immediately come to my mind. First one is the meticulous way in which he did things. He is simply perfect. From engineering drawings to lab reports, the way he did them left me amazed. Till then I had a feeling that I was good at doing things neatly but he showed me what I needed to learn. He introduced me to extra dark pencils (2B,4B etc.),the ideal way of submitting reports etc. The second thing is the neatness of his room. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that finding a speck of dust in his room was difficult. It was always clean and neat and gave a nice feel whenever I walked in.

Second year moved us to different hostels, but the association continued. Getting to a regular hostel introduced us to computers, and we, who were reading novels or playing cricket to pass time started discussing about processors and hard disks. He was my technology guru. From installing Windows to CD burning software, I consulted him for everything. Even when people from computer science told me what was good, I looked up to this chemical engineer for the final word. Again, he introduced me to the 1GB pen drive, virtual DVD drive etc. He experimented a lot with computers, and reinstalled the operating system every now and then. I wonder why he did not move to Linux.

Even though I had many good friends by second year, he is the first one with whom I shared the most important things in life. Some of my friends still taunt me that I went all the way to Jamuna from Tapti to tell him something that they got to know two years later. I don't know if sharing problems with friends solved them or not, but it definitely made me feel better and calm. It gave me solace, that this guy from the city was listening to a villager and giving his perspective. In short, he was my safe-locker, where I could lock in all my troubles and worries.

After graduation, we parted ways. He took up a job in Bangalore, and I moved from place to place, Hyderabad to Chennai to Bangalore. Though we stayed in touch through occasional emails, his office timings made it difficult for him to be seen online, and he effectively disappeared from the online social networks for the last two and half years. We met just once after college, at a friend's wedding, where we couldn't find much time to talk to each other. Though I was in Bangalore since the last one year, I couldn't meet him.

Finally, his job shift brought a welcome change and he started being active online. It did not take me long to find out his phone number, talk to him and know where he lived. I went to his home this Saturday, met him and talked my heart out. After the “how are you doing” talk, we discussed about college days and a few things that mattered to me. I knew that it was not difficult for me to talk to him about things, but I realised how good it felt only after I started back home. The same warmth and the same maturity of thought when he explained things. I realised that nothing changed with respect to our friendship, and even the characteristic traits that defined him. His room is as clean as it was back in college, and he is still using Windows.

Some friendships are like rain that drenches you when you are thirsty. But some friendships are like plants. They grow slowly and silently, with the change unnoticeable on a day to day basis. After a while you look with wonder at the tree standing tall and firm beside you, offering you its shade and protection for the rest of your life!

MISSING

After six months of life in Bangalore, here are a few things that I miss the most.

1. The Chennai sun and the heat

2. Coffee @ Hot Chips

3. Honda Shine 125 cc

4. Venkatanarayana Road

5. Sambar Idly

6. Ranganathan Street

7. Teammates at Emmeskay

8. Berth 035, S6, 7043-Circar Express

9. Meals @ Rathna Cafe

10. Lord Anjaneya's temple, Nanganallur

11. RC 108, Vodafone

12. Chennai Egmore Railway Station

13. Breakfast @ Tifanys

14. Tairsadam (Curd rice)

15. Badminton Matches at Office

16. Besant Nagar Beach

17. Murugan Idly

18. Hindi Prachar Sabha Street

19. Andhra Mess

20. IC Engines Lab, IIT Madras

21. Satyam Multiplex

22. IITM LAN

23. Emmkays Super Market

24. Gajendra Circle

25. Gurunath and Moserbaer DVDs @ Rs 13

Piled Higher and Deeper

Long time since last post. My apologies.

The news not-so-new: I have joined the Indian Institute of Science for a PhD in aerospace engineering. It has been more than three months since I became a student again, and in this post, I would like to summarize the events in my life since I started working.

Two years of corporate life was good. In fact, I enjoyed it thoroughly, along with all the shocks and shakes it offered. Right from formally dressed business consulting at one of the big four to casual campus like life as a technical consultant, I liked it all. 'Like' not in the literal sense of it, but for the lessons learned at those places.

I took up my first job as if it was another team project at college. It did not take me long to realize that corporate world was nothing like college. Team mates and seniors were not like the ones I saw at IC engines lab at IITM. Every one had his own interests and did not care to hurt others feelings and even trample others careers to advance their own. Of course it was painful, but taught me a good lesson when it came to dealing with people. I learned to start with no expectations when it comes to professional dealings.

But there were good things as well, that my first job gave me. I learned the importance of networking and how important it was to stay connected with people. The best thing was the financial freedom it brought along. Not that I lived in dire poverty till then, but I have this feeling of independence and the belief that if I want to drive a bike, I should be able to earn for petrol myself. Once I joined office, not only did I buy a bike and went around Hyderabad, but was also able to pursue reading which I liked most. My weekend pilgrimages ranged from Himalaya Book Depot in Punjagutta, Hyderabad to Visaalandhra in Arundalpet, Guntur.

Six months into job, I realized that what ever I was learning was like the icing on cake. However, the cake was missing. There was no field or area of business in which I could claim experience nor any useful tool that I could master. I started feeling suffocated. Lucky that the tipping point, the event which made me decide to move out came early. And so, after eight months of business analysis, I moved back to a core job in Chennai and started to bake the cake.

I approached my second job with all the pessimism acquired from the first one. It did not take me long to realize that I was wrong. The people here were angels, in the literal sense. Every one, including the managers were very friendly and good, that I started feeling as if it was college again. Till then, I could never imagine an office that had such a good work culture and people that were excellent human beings. And there was a clear demarcation between work and personal life. Getting back to Chennai was another big advantage. Firstly, it had Insti, the place where I studied for four years. Secondly, it was the kind of place that suited me best – temples, vegetarian hotels, Moore market for books and beyond all, hot sun that never let me catch cold. I got time to read all the books I bought in Hyderabad and to visit juniors and friends in Insti.

This job gave me all that I could ask for. It gave me a good feel of automobile technology which I like so much, great friends to play badminton in the evenings, money to spend, and more importantly, time to pursue my hobbies, time to go home once a month and attend friends' marriages. But sometimes, good times come to an end too soon. Recession made things hard and I had to start thinking again of what to do next. So, I came back to do what I like the most, studying.

Nano - Turtle

I like Tatas, but I like the turtles too.

Shoe Polish

I first saw him as I was walking to office after breakfast. He was smiling at the school kid who was walking ten paces ahead of me. Seeing him smile at the kid, I smiled too. As he passed the kid, I saw the shoe brush in his hand, and he looked at my shoes. In a while, as we got closer, he said “Anna, brush anna”. I wear sport shoes that don’t need a shoe brush to clean. So I dismissed his request and walked past, saying “Venda thambi, pongo.” {No need, please go}

He kept walking behind me, insisting to brush my shoes. I could not see his face, and failed to notice the emotion with which he pleaded. As he kept pleading, walking behind me, I thought “Who would spend money so simply in these hard times?”

I walked into my office, wishing the security guard a good morning. I knew that the he stopped outside, and would probably go back. I got in to the office and watched him from the first floor of my office. He was pleading with some one on the street. It was then that I understood the urge with which he was pleading.

As I walked into my floor and switched on my computer, many thoughts raced my mind. “He might be very hungry and needed money to eat. How many people would he have pleaded with, to polish their shoes? What would happen to him if no one buys his service today? Would he go hungry or will he resort to stealing/begging? Was he not a very dignified guy, asking money in return for his work, instead of simply begging like most other people do? If he resorts to stealing, would it not be due to people like me, some one who can not appreciate his sincerity?”

And I saw all this in the light of my recently-improved understanding of life and hunger. Until last month, five hundred rupees meant a movie at Satyam and lunch at Saravana Bhavan, that’s all. But things change, don’t they? Recession had its effect on me too, and since then I was thinking of nothing but cost cutting. Reducing phone calls, eating at decent hotels compared to good hotels, banning movies altogether. It was then that I began seeing more value in a hundred rupee note.

Coming back to the present, I could not even sit down. Something in me was not letting me put aside the matter. The security guard looked at me in surprise, as I walked out of office. I was searching for him, and walked in the direction I saw him go. He wouldn’t have gone far I thought, reassuring myself. I was looking into the side lanes and walking fast, trying to locate that hand and the brush. I found him after ten minutes of search, pleading with some one at a stationary store. I called him out aloud “Thambi, inge vaa.” {Brother, come here} As he came to me, I asked “Pattu roopa pogumaa?” {Will you polish my shoes for ten rupees?} I sat down on the steps of a store, removed my shoes and gave them to him. As he was brushing I asked him, “When did you eat?” He replied, “Last evening” and carried on with the brushing. I could see a smile spread on his face, or may be I just imagined. I was already feeling much better. As he finished, I put on my shoes, handing him a ten rupee note. And I walked back to office with a slightly light purse, but a much lighter heart!

This is life

Last week I was at the PAN IIT meet. During one of the sessions on entrepreneurship, there were many questions on the role of IITs in nurturing entrepreneurial skills among its students. A few people were even skeptical about the interest among IITians in setting up their own firms. Having seen such kind of bashings for the last five years, here is what I have to say.

If the meeting is about political awareness, then they claim that IITs are not doing enough to nurture political awareness among students. If it is about environmental protection, they point out at each and every thing done at IIT and examine how environmentally unfriendly it is. If it is entrepreneurship, they point to the lack of diversity {of business thought} among students at IITs and how that has prevented them from becoming global business leaders overnight. If it is about social service, they point out towards the lack of courses in social sciences for an engineer at IIT.

And they do all this sitting in the CLT, at the center of IITM.

Fine, we understand and accept your ideas. But it is better that you try understanding us too. IITs have not been set up to do all sorts of these things, from political awareness to social sciences. A host of other institutions are there to officially '”train” you in such things.

IITs have been set up for providing technological leadership, and they are good at doing that. That does not mean all of us do engineering design alone. There are quite a few of us who have excelled in one or more of the things in the list above. It is not because IITs have trained them to. It is because of their own personal interest coupled with the confidence and thought leadership that IIT life has provided them with.

Dear friends, next time you come to CLT to bash us out for not having produced world class musicians and painters, please bear this in mind.

We Salute

I, Sri Vallabha.

There has been a slack in my blogging activity and it took more than two months for this post to come out. I acknowledge this delay. When ever there is something that we all know, I feel that it is better to talk about it and clear up things, than keeping mum. This delay had been due to a few things. Till end of September I was busy preparing for GRE and TOEFL. And then, joblessness took over. {Don’t worry; I am not jobless in the literal sense, I have a job.} With applying to the US delayed for a year, and having finished GRE etc. I find myself free, so free that I am lost in confusion about how to use this free time. I have been trying to do many things, from learning flute to volunteering for Janaagraha, to blogging in Telugu to carrying out a few experiments in human psychology. Experiments which gave me valuable insights into how people from different academic and social backgrounds think. More about these in the next post.

In this post I would like to talk about my thought process and behaviour, something that interests me the most. I wish to explore the various phases it went through and how it matured to what it is today. Here it goes.

As a child, I was a bit naughty. Of course, all children are naughty. I never hesitated to make the fullest use of an opportunity for mischief. At school, these opportunities presented themselves in various forms: sitting in the last bench, lunch break, games period or a favourite teacher’s class. During these times, I was at my usual best, doing what I liked. Sitting in the last bench, I used to play pen-games during class hours. {There were two designs for a pen-gun. Competing with friends, I perfected both. Feel free to contact me for more information on pen-guns.} In sixth standard, during history class on one lazy afternoon, a misfire from my pen-gun sent the ‘bullet’ straight to the teacher from the last bench I was sitting in. May be he did not know how it came, or may be he did not know about pen-guns, the teacher left it at that, and I escaped punishment. At home, picking up a fight with my little sister was the easiest thing to do. Whenever I felt its time for some liveliness, I used to scare my sister or pull her pig tails and run away. Those chases felt more heroic than most of the ones I see in films today. Of course, if I was unlucky, I would get caught and receive a slap or two from my parents. Being a kid, I was not at all worried about the consequences of my actions. If I felt like doing something, I did it.

As I grew up, my understanding of the surroundings improved. I was able to think through and understand the consequences of an action. If I wanted to do something, I would think of what others would feel about it. During that time, ‘others’ comprised of my parents, teachers and my friends’ parents. Being a first ranker at school, I was supposed to be a good boy, who would conform to the norm. And I followed it religiously. This restrained me from being mischievous or being myself. When my friends would scale the school walls to pluck mangoes, I would stand outside - watching. Actually, I was uncertain of what was right or what was wrong, and how I should act.

This confusion and indecisiveness only increased with time. As I came to Hyderabad, to study at Ramaiah, the number of ‘others’ increased greatly. Now, apart from being a good boy for those back at Ponnur, I was also expected to conform to the opinions and expectations of people in Hyderabad - may it be my relatives or people I got to know through my uncle. Added to this was my poor academic performance during those days. I was doing badly at Ramaiah, and that made me withdraw into a shell; into a set of rules I framed for myself, hoping they would bring me success. I was not willing to watch movies, as good boys always focussed on studies. I remember one particular day when I waited at a theatre for an hour to get tickets for my uncle’s family. Despite their prodding, I refused to watch the movie myself, gave them tickets and went back home to study.

I am not very sure as to why I was so meticulous in following such things, but they gave me a sense of satisfaction, of doing the ‘right’ thing. It was not just about doing things I liked, it was also about things I felt wrong with other people. If someone did things I disliked, or hurt me with their caustic comments, I never replied back. I used to think of their comments and the possible repartees, but never had the desire to express myself. Some doubt that I might be wrong and they might be right prevented me from doing this. In this process, I had to sacrifice many things I liked, had to put up with that mental strain and had to calm down the surge of emotion at feeling insulted. In short, I was like a wax statue, moulding myself in the way people wanted to see me.

This kind of thinking didn’t leave me till my third semester at IITM. During the first year, I was the same introspective and cautious guy. In fact, even to play cricket in the hostel quadrangle, exams had to be as far as a month away. However, three semesters of life at IIT brought back the same old confidence I had as a kid. The sense of being capable; of doing things I liked, returned slowly. Of course, there was an event that triggered this. It made me understand that sitting and ruminating about the course of action will take me no where, and to at least get close to what I wanted; I need to take the plunge. And so I did something I liked, after a long time, in the October of 2005. Since then, I started being myself again. Never hesitating to enjoy those small pleasures that matter, either coffee in rain or badminton at night, or riding my bike @ 70kmph in city traffic. Of course, I know my limitations. I only did those things that did not trouble others.

Speaking my heart was a different story. In the process of expressing myself frankly, I hurt a few people; some who matter the most to me, and some I wish I had never met. With people who mattered, it was more of explaining myself, convincing them that I had my own ideas and beliefs too. Making them understand that I was right in my own sense was difficult, but a worthy exercise. And with people I wish I never met, it was more of an ego satisfaction. With their feeling of self importance and skewed sense of equality, they would subject me to unwanted trouble. Not being able to appreciate an idea is fine, but refusing to think, to use the brain that is given for the sole purpose of thinking is not fair. Dealing with such people had been and will be difficult. In such cases, I had and will have the last word and prove that I have a set of superior moral values or what ever. I have no regrets for doing this, because at the end of the day, all that matters is being at peace with myself than being a good boy to the wrong people.

Here is a way to explain all this behaviour. As a I kid, I did not know that there was something called a value system, and hence did not care about right or wrong. As I grew up to be a teenager,I knew of its existence, but was not sure as to what it comprised of. The cognizance of its existence made me cautious in my actions. I did not want to cross the line, but did not know where the line was. Now, having lived for more than 20% of my life, my value system is approximately 80% complete.{I am just applying the Pareto's principle.} And hence I act, in accordance with my value system and live at peace with myself.

I, Sri Vallabha mean what I say, speak my heart and do what I feel is right !

Life means

Views about life, of a 24year old engineer from IITM working with an MNC in Chennai.

Do not misunderstand me if these views sound too materialistic, these are just a collection of things that make me feel good about life.

Life means:

1. Coffee @ Hot Chips

2. Tapti Hostel, IIT Madras

3. Honda Shine 125 cc

4. Gutti vankaaya koora (brinjal curry) by Mom

5. Dell Inspiron 1525

6. TTD-IC Temple, T Nagar

7. Of friends and more of friends

8. Berth 0035, S6, 7043-Circar Express

9. Meals @ Rathna Cafe

10. Traffic police and an AP vehicle on Chennai roads

11. Prasadam @ Lord Anjaneya's temple, Naganallur

12. Kathipara Junction

13. Barrons GRE 17^th Edition

14. STD @ Rs 1.30/min, Vodafone

15. Maggi @ Gurunath

16. Group mails on Gmail

17. Send offs @ Chennai Central

18. Loan repayment, Andhra Bank

19. Moserbaer DVDs

20. Masala Dosa @ Tiffanys

21. Career fundaes to sister

22. Credit card bills

23. Tairsadam (Curd rice)

24. Local trains

25. IRCTC

Now coming to the most odd item on the list, point no 8. Since I shifted here, I have been traveling to Ponnur on the Circar express. And the four times I have traveled by it so far, online reservation allotted me the same berth, time and again: Coach S6, Berth no: 35.

The fundamental laws of professional life

Deevi's laws of Professional life { On the lines of the “Newton's laws of motion"}

The zeroth law, that exists only for thermodynamics and not for kinematics, can be extended to the laws of professional life.

0. College - Office(that you don't like) = (Work+ Interest) - (Work) = Interest [courtesy: Sriram]

1. Every employee continues to be in the state of ultimate enthuless-ness or of absolute procrastination unless a new girl joins his team

2. The rate of change of interest in work is directly proportional to the state of the girl {state = function (beauty, nativity, marital status, interest [she shows on you]) etc.}

3. To every overture to the girl, there is an equal and opposite admonition from the boss

Parting

Parting is not an easy thing, but when the memories attached with a place are bad, it is "made easy". Leaving deloitte was made easy for me, so to say. I am finishing the formalities ,meeting friends and bidding my farewells to the people here in Deloitte.

I did think of writing about my leaving this place but wanted to do it at a later date. But now, there was an incident that made me write this post from a public terminal in office. Two of my friends, here in deloitte.

I first met them eight months ago, during the induction for the new campus recruits. Though we had very less things in common,we became friends and "still a student" sort of attitude tied us closely. The fact that we belong to different work streams made it difficult for us to meet daily or talk. But today, when I was leaving the firm, they met me and handed me over a gift with their warm wishes. I felt like I was in school again. It was like classmates parting. Their attachment moved me immensly and as I walked out of their floor, my eyes were wet with tears. It was the pain, the pain of seperation and having to part.

Dear friends (you know who i am addressing to) thank you very much. I lack words to express my feelings, but one thing is sure, I will cherish your friendship for ever.

Pan IIT - the "Machchan" feeling that stays for life....

Some of you might have heard of the Pan IIT Entrepreneur Mentoring Program that was held across 16 cities in India on this Republic day. It was conducted to help the would-be entrepreneurs of IITs (though many other people came in to seek guidance and mentorship) gain more clarity about the businesses they were planning to start. The mentors were super seniors of IITs who have started their own companies and have gained experience in various fields of business. I had an opportunity to volunteer and help organizers in ensuring that the session at Hyderabad went smoothly.

The first dilemma I faced was the dress that would be appropriate for the occasion. Back in Insti, people never bothered even if one turned up in ManU's jersey for an official event. But this was going to a place where one meets big people who run companies and have been in corporate world for a long time. A formal dress seemed appropriate, but I decided to wear my Insti sweat shirt, and infuse a sort of freshness into all that corporate thinking. When I first met the organizer, and asked him if the way I dressed was fine, he laughed and patted my back saying, "After all you are in a Pan IIT meet, this is more than fine". He was from IITM too, an electrical engineer who graduated long before I was born. Most of the seniors turned up in business formals (coat and tie) but nobody bothered about my sweatshirt. They would look at the emblem on the shirt and try to figure out the name. I would suggest them "Madras" and a smile would appear across their face. "Are the elephants in your campus fine? Do you still have a water problem?" Questions would come pouring in. I feel more than happy, telling them about the centralized water supply system and the elephants at GC.

The best part of this experience came from a super senior. He was sitting at a table, waiting for his "mentee" to turn up. I went to know if there was anything he needed. He was looking at the emblem and I suggested him Madras. As soon as he came to know that I am a mechanical engineer from IITM, he stood up, shook hands heartily and said “I am a mechanical engineer too, from IITM. I graduated in 1968." We had a talk about the Insti, his experiences as he came out in search of employment in young India. His affable smile and feeling of friendliness made me extremely happy. What had he to do with me, some one as old as his grandchild? For the first time I realized how strong the feelings of cordiality can be towards ones juniors. It was the power of alumni and I felt fortunate being a part of the brand IIT and a strong network.

The first hour or so has been busy, with us sorting out the lists of mentors and "mentees" and helping them to meet in their given time slots. These "mentees" were recent grads, people with some four to six year work experience. They wanted to know about various things, ranging from the "tech" part of business to the "business" part of business. Once the event started, it was easier, and we had enough time to move around and interact with people. What inspired me was the diversity of ideas that people came up with. Apart from the fully commercial ideas that would generate revenues and provide employment, there were people with sustainable ideas that would help to uplift the quality of technical education and the lives of masses.

Another thing I noted was that the sense of being classmates and friends doesn't subside easily. You may be running a big company, but you are still my classmate- that’s the feeling they had, and let me give you an example. Two seniors from the same batch turned up for the program. During a break I was talking to one of them, and the other came in to join his friend. They fell back to talking in the same old familiar language, and made fun of each other as if they were still in college. One of them was teasing the other on how he changed after going to US. I admired their friendship and stood watching. Will my classmates be at the same ease after 10 years? I thought.

Apart from being called "a kid" for being fresh out of college, I learnt a lot from seniors about their experiences with running a company. One of them told us why he chose to employ non-IITians. "We are impatient and get frustrated easily. We can't sit learning the basics for a long time, and want to get into action soon" he remarked. I reflected on how true it was in my case. Just six months out of Insti, and I was getting frustrated at not being able to change the world.

At the close of the event, there was a lecture by Dr APJ Kalam on how IITians can help the country, by creating employment opportunities. He said "IITians should not be job seekers but job creators" and stressed on the importance of us contributing towards the cause of India.

Lengthy hours of work in the office with laptop have made me reluctant to touch it at home after work. Though I have a couple of topics to blog, I have started to hate computers. So, there may not be posts for a while.

The journey

After an initial set back, I got an opportunity to visit IITM. It had been seven months since I left Insti, five months after I started my corporate life. It was Diwali week. I was taking a bus to Chennai, the first time to travel by road to the place. During college days, it was always Pinakini express that carried me back and forth. Besides the fact that train journey was fast, we didn’t have buses plying between Ponnur and Chennai. I used to look at the highway running beside the railway track, and wished that I was traveling by bus. I don’t exactly know why I like it, but it has more to do with the fact that a road trip takes longer, and one can get to see different places more closely than what is possible in a train. It may be also due to my liking for the Dhabas on highways. They may not be great places, but a brief stop at a Dhaba will make me feel that I have got a little understanding of the place, its people and most importantly, the way they make tea. Funny it may sound, but it’s only the need to refuel myself periodically with tea that makes me look for a Dhaba and I have sampled tea from quite a number of places, from Bidar to Sullurpet, all during my long road journeys. With all this enthusiasm, I embarked on a journey that was supposed to take ten hours.

In order that Murphy’s Law is fully obeyed, and reiterated, the bus was late. With the joy of going back to Insti, I didn’t care about it. It was mostly an eventless journey, but for the fact that we had a brief stopover at a Dhaba near Sullurpet. I had a sudden feeling that the world has become very spacious. Having been on the crowded and cramped Hyderabadi roads for months, the highway seemed to be very wide and free. There weren’t many vehicles, except for the cargo trucks and buses. One tea at the Dhaba in the cool breeze of the place made me feel fresh. I sat through the rest of my journey watching the landscape change from hilly to plain terrain, and become more.

As the bus was nearing Chennai, I was immediately able to recognize the village that I had once visited as a part of my NSS activities. I was then told that the road led to AP, and now I was able to link up facts. As we neared the city, the roads started getting congested again. We passed through the industrial estates of north Madras that were once the subjects of my study for the pollution and health hazards they caused. After a few traffic jams and delays, I was at Chennai Central by 11am. First I walked to the book seller beside the subway, bought a few books and then took a local train to Guindy. The first signs of being in Chennai were already showing up, I was sweating profusely in winter. However, the trademark Chennai effect came only later. I tried hiring an auto from Guindy to Insti and for a distance that was hardly six or seven kilometers, they demanded sixty rupees. That killed away the feeling, the special feeling that everything is good in Chennai. As I got into a bus to Insti, the feel good factor restored. I realized that seven months is very short time to change the notorious auto drivers of Chennai to good law abiding citizens carrying people for normal meter fares.

A sense of emotion gripped me as I entered Insti. I looked around to find acquaintances, and the first one I saw was the security guard who used to be in Tapti hostel during my second year. I went and spoke to him. He inquired about me and my job, and after a small chat, I left. There was a battery van in the bus stop, and the driver was sitting under the trees whiling away time. I understood that it was going to take some time before the bus would start, but gave up plans of taking a lift. I sat there in the bus stop, looking around, at all those things I hardly noticed during the four years of my stay there. The small garden at the entrance, the Institute emblem standing on a pillar, bus stop, everything seemed invaluable.

The brief ride to the hostel was so exhilarating that it brought back memories of childhood trips to my mother’s home in a village, some fifty miles* from Ponnur. As a child that was the most awaited part of my life. During holidays, my uncle used to come to Ponnur and take me there. We had to change buses at a town in between, and the last leg of journey was most exciting. I used to sit beside the window and wait and wait, as the bus rolled forward slowly on the dusty road. I had a similar feeling now, and understood how emotional attachments change over time. As a child, I was more attached to my grandmother and her village, as I moved to Hyderabad; it was Ponnur I craved for. Now, Insti took the place. It was the same emotional attachment, the same old feeling of happiness. As I passed through GC and Cenlib, memories came flooding by.

As I got down at Gurunath, one of my hostel juniors met me with a smile. I walked to Tapti, the place that has become my home for three years, and still continues to retain the same status. Nothing much has changed, expect for the new dining hall for residents of Taramani Guest House, which was set up in Narmada hostel mess. I walked into the hostel, ignoring the question mark faced security, and banged the doors of my wingies open. Ahak was awake, and I put up a small fight to wake up Venky and Bombay.

It’s good old days; again.

* Now that I am reading R K Narayan, the old English has caught my fancy, and hence the miles instead of the SI system.

{For readers who may not be familiar with the names, here is the legend. Ahak, Venky and Bombay are my hostel mates pursuing their final year dual degree. GC, Cenlib and Gurunath and places in IITM, that come in the same order while traveling from main gate to hostel zone.}

Looking inward

Some sort of unhappiness, a feeling that I am doing the wrong thing, that I am not able to enjoy what I am doing is haunting me. Don’t know if that is a similar feeling to a majority of you or if I am an exception. I am pained with life, the people, the circumstances and everything in general. Not being able to pursue what I like or what I enjoy.

Please help me, and give me some suggestions as to how I can get out of this mess.

Bicycles and Bikes

The first vehicle I owned is the “Black beauty”- a Hercules Thriller bought during my IIT days. Before I became an IITian I had been riding either dad’s or my sister’s bicycle in Ponnur. Though I knew how to ride a scooter, I never borrowed my dad’s scooter fearing an accident. Ponnur is a small town, and one can find acquaintances on the road where ever he goes. That was one thing that prevented me from scooter riding, what if I hit some or the other friend of my dad accidentally. The other thing was that I wanted to earn {the money for} the petrol I used. So, I never used a scooter though my school friends have shifted over to bikes and scooters as soon as we passed our tenth class - this tenth class restriction being imposed by our tuition master. He never tolerated school children riding powered vehicles, for his own reasons.

The black beauty was a thing to cherish for me. Being “first” may be the reason why I used it carefully. IITM roads were good and ditch-free and enabled my bicycle to stay in shape for four full years. I never rode too fast, neither used rapid braking. Be it to class on weekdays or joy rides in the campus on weekends, it was there for me. Whenever I rode it over a speed-breaker or accidentally rode over a bump, I apologized to my black beauty and promised to be careful next time. It was cleaned and oiled every weekend. As always there will be contenders, Vamsi and Sriram also maintained their cycles well. I tried to stay ahead always in this funny competition but Sriram with his knowledge of Tam and Chennai outperformed me once. He was the first one to get his name written with radium stickers on the cycle. Of course I followed the next weekend.

I was so meticulous in maintaining my bicycle that by the end of my second year, I was the only source of bicycle to the ones in need. Most of my classmates’ cycles were either lost or rusted and gone out of use. While Ahak changed three cycles and Subbu bought two cycles, mine was almost new. The biggest moment of happiness was in my third year, when a second year guy tried ragging me, mistaking me for a freshie because of my “new” bicycle. In the first two years, I even hesitated to lend it to friends. Whenever some one came to borrow it from me, I either offered to give them a lift to the place or gave reasons and declined to lend. By third year friendship outweighed that fear and people like Prof made full use of it. Life was beautiful- paining Prof as he came to borrow it or re-scheduling things so that GT could go to his lab on my bicycle.

As I finished my engineering, I made it a point to get the black beauty transported to Ponnur carefully. After serving me faithfully for four years of college life, it now rests peacefully in the store room of my home. I didn’t want to give it off to my cousins or sell it. Though my dad points to the rusting rims or aging tires, I act deaf.

The second vehicle is the Honda Shine which I recently bought. I wasn’t confident of driving in city traffic, but the irregular office timings made it necessary to have a bike. All I did was to choose the color and stickering of a Honda Shine. A 125 cc engine appeared to be a good tradeoff between power and pick up. I took a small test ride in the lane beside the showroom and felt comfortable. For the first few days, I practiced driving in the mornings. But to drive during traffic time, that too Hyderabadi traffic is another thing! At first the new cylinders gave me some pain. The bike would stop whenever I slowed down and as my Mechanical Engineering background suggested, it needs to run it for at least a thousand kilometers before the piston ring wear brought the engine to a steady state. So I made use of every chance to put it to use and wear the piston rings.

I needn’t explain Hyderabadis how chaotic the traffic here is. But for people from other places, here is how it feels. Imagine a primary school with classes in the third and fourth floor. When the school bell rings at 4 in the evening, all the kids without even heeding teacher’s warnings rush to the stairs. They try to get into what ever space possible, even climbing on to the railings of the stair case and trying to get down. It’s almost the same here. Cyclists and bike riders get onto pavements too. They travel through the narrowest spaces, rubbing shoulders and rear view mirrors with other bikers and pedestrians. And if you want to ride like a Good Samaritan, waiting in line behind the cars at a traffic junction, it’s assured that the journey will definitely take an hour longer. Colleagues at office have expressed their utter disbelief at the way people here drove. It was this traffic that I ventured into, third day after I bought the bike. After a few near-misses with cars and a few more thud-thuds into deep holes on the road, I am a Hyderabadi driver now. The roads are worst too. As long as it is dry, the only concern is the man hole covers and telephone pits on the road. Traveling at 50-60kmph, not only is it difficult to sever aside, but also the risk of being hit by the guy behind is large. The shock absorbers get damaged, but all that I can do is feeling sorry for the bike.

By mid august, it started raining here. It was then I realized a basic funda: It’s easier to clean a bicycle than a bike. The roads become small cesspools, for the excellent shape they are in. Traveling on a bike, I used to get drenched both from the rain as well as the splashing of water on the road, thanks to four wheelers. Nature has its own way of doing justice to everybody and so is human design. When it comes to traffic jams or crossing signal lights, bikes are an absolute advantage. You can squeeze into the little space and race forward. But when it comes to rainy days, four wheelers are better. One can sit dry and comfortable and look at water splashing from under the wheels onto bikers beside you. I had this experience too. The helmet doesn’t let me see clearly during rain and one day I lifted the cover glass up for a better view. In no less than a minute, a car splashed the dirtiest water on the road onto my face. At that moment, I felt like killing myself. Bike getting dirty is another story. As I came back home, I could see dirt all over it, and it isn’t easy to clean it either. To wet clean, a high pressure jet of water is needed and to dry clean, 50% of the dirtiest parts are inaccessible. I gave up on maintaining it.

This is how my life changed after graduation, from a neat and clean bicycle to a dirty and ill maintained bike. GOD, grant me salvation.

Of auto wallahs and shop keepers

After a long gap of almost three months, here is my new post, something about the place I am now in. Well, Hyd is not exactly the place I like, may be because of the Ramaiah effect. My first spell in this place was marred by many troubles and painful events, one of which was Ramaiah. I wrote about it in my previous posts and will write more of it in the ones to come, but let me now confine myself to the current topic: auto wallahs and shopkeepers of Hyd.

Before I first came to Hyd, I spent most of my life in Ponnur, a relatively small town in coastal Andhra. It was only school, home and play ground, and as the distances involved were very small, I never had a need to hire an auto or take a bus. Rickshaws were the main means of transport, and the rickshaw wallahs were always obliging and never picked up a quarrel. If they wanted a higher price, they would try to convince you in a polite manner.

If you have had an experience with the auto-wallahs of Hyd, you would understand how enlightening the experience can be. Leave aside the six year old memories, even when I came here recently to join the office, the fist auto wallah that agreed to take me home from the bus stand picked up a quarrel demanding more money. Such was the welcome I got. He could have refused to take me had he found the bargain unsuitable. Instead, he chose to try and extract money from me by trying to sound rude. I remember one particular incident during my Ramaiah days that’s worth mentioning. When waiting at the bus stop, auto drivers used to come and try to pick up a passenger or two. They would rudely drive on to the people at the bus stop, make them jump from their places and stare at them asking if they wanted an auto. This happened to me most of the times and I got used to jumping this way and that to avoid being hit by an auto. One day, a fellow came dashing onto me, and shouted “punjagutta, punjagutta.” I chose to ignore him, for I felt it was no use talking. He shouted a few more times and asked me “Are you deaf?” Now, that stung me like anything and I replied “Go and mind your business, you fool.” That he was piqued was evident as he got down and tried to scare me, but a timely interruption by an old man standing beside me made him refrain. All the passengers at the bus stop spoke for me, and criticized the auto wallah for his rude behavior and he left, staring threateningly at me. Now that I am in my twenties, no one dares to do that to me again.

Next in line are the shop keepers. I still don’t understand whether they don’t know what a customer means to them or they don’t care to lose a customer, but I found a few shopping experiences in Hyd really troubling. Back at home, almost everything we needed was brought from some one or the other we knew for years. Right from groceries and provisions to getting dresses stitched, we had a man for it. We even had one court – cobbler (like the courtiers of a king) to whom we went to gets our shoes mended. If he wasn’t there, I would just come back rather than going to another once. All of them knew me and when ever I had to buy a book or get something needed at home, I would just go to the shop, pick it up and credit it our account which my dad paid as soon as he received is salary. So, I had no idea of the costs involved, and I never asked for them of course. It was when I came to Hyd that I had to do a lot of things myself, deal with unknown people and pay directly. The costs of even small things seemed to be very high and I hesitated before I bought something. Now I am aware of the general price levels demanded here, and if it’s a service that’s being offered, the cost is at least thrice the one I pay back at home. For those wanting numbers, haircut at a decent shop in Hyd costs you around 60 bucks, while you can get the same done for Rs15. But this is not the issue I am bothered about. It has more to do with the behavioral science.

When I go to some shops, typically the traditionally run stores etc, the way they respond or treat me really irritates. All that I have read in marketing management, that customer is supreme and that he had to be satisfied at all costs seemed to mean nothing to these men. They would shout back rudely or try sarcasm. Just today, I went to a small shoe shop, and asked if I can get my shoe mended. They guy asked me back “What does this look like? Do they mend shoes in a show room?” What crap I thought, so much for a small shop that doesn’t even measure a thousand sq ft. At that moment, the thought of those big brands and those large showrooms came to my mind. If they too chose to behave the same way, shopping would be a night mare. Thank God they are educated in dealing with a customer.

But that’s not all. I made an observation recently that I have failed to make during my initial stay at Hyd. For each one of the guy that pains, there is some one else, who is good and makes you feel comfortable. For the shopkeeper who was thinking too much of himself and his showroom, I found a road side cobbler who mended my shoe despite the rain. For the Airtel guy that pained me by barring my services and giving unclear assurances, I found a Hutch fellow who helped me recharge my old mobile number and put me back on the grid, while I was leaving to Chennai. More about the SIM card story later, my hands are already giving me clear hints that typing on the lap top is painful.

refresh

its time to hit the refresh button or ctrl+R or what ever. joined the new office, and connected to the grid (WEB) again. so dear readers its time to hit the blogsphere with new articles again.


thank you.

A prayer

Dear god,

I won’t ask you to change the people around me,

But don’t change me either;

I won’t ask you to instill gratitude in them,

But don’t let that ingratitude stop me from helping others;

I won’t ask you to make them feel responsible,

But don’t let that take away my sense of responsibility;

I won’t ask you to make them reciprocate,

But don’t make me insensitive to delicate feelings that matter;

I won’t ask you to make someone standby me in need,

But don’t let me move away from them in difficulty;

I won’t ask you to change the people around me,

But don’t change me either.

Written in a moment of extreme frustration, after years of taking all that the world had in store for me. These are feelings I wanted to express, opinions I wanted to voice and ego I wanted to exhibit. I didn’t want them to come out, wished I could bottle them up and keep them to myself forever, just to be accommodating. But today, it had exceeded the limits, I can’t keep it to myself, and so I vent off here.