guru ka gyan

Branding in education sector

2010-10-27T00:16:00.005+05:30

Co-author: Suharsh Dikshit

On a hot, sunny afternoon in June, a plain looking bourgeoisie taxi lumbered through the busy roads of Delhi. While the driver was busy exchanging chosen expletives with the fellow drivers on the road, Suharsh and I sat impassively, engaged in our respective avocations. We had just arrived in Delhi and were heading towards Panipat to attend a consumer session. While we love to disagree with each other on most things, we share a common passion for branding and the Indian consumer.

“Looks like every second ad is trying to sell either homes or education”, I said, referring to the constant stream of college and property ad-jingles blurting out on the radio. Driver, who had by now broken out of the traffic, added his own view in Delhi style- “Makaan ke gaane toh aise sunate hain ji jaise makaan muft main bant rahein hon” shutting down his laptop and placing it back into the bag, Suharsh quipped- “Makaan muft main mile na mile her college naukri dena ka wadaa zaroor karta hai”. Driver concluded the discussion with a dismissive statement- “yeh sab brand walon ke natak hote hain”. Suharsh and I exchanged an amused look; evidently we were not too impressed by general opinion of our profession.

Coming back to the topic, I said- “higher education is a unique category. You know, from many FGDs I have attended with small town consumers, I realise that the both parents and the kids see education as a sure shot ticket to a better life, like a sort of insurance for better future”

Suharsh added to my line of thought “For today’s youth, it is not only important to be successful, but it is as much important to be ‘seen as’ successful. They are extremely exhibitionist in nature”

I took it up from there “and probably that explains the success of the Facebooks and the Orkuts of the world. The social networking sites give them an opportunity to- show off. The uploaded images on most profiles can be classified as- my foreign trips, my happening parties, my hot girlfriends/ boyfriends, my gadgets, etc. Everyone wants to put up their best face on the web- kind of carefully craft an image for themselves”

“You got to agree; sometimes movies provide amazing insights on the Indian youth. I am sure if life was a bumper sticker, it would read ‘main apni/apna favourite hoon’ for majority of youth today. I love that dialogue from ‘Jab we met’- it defines the youth of today so well” none of my discussion can go without a reference to bollywood.

Suharsh smiled and took out a copy of the matrimonial page from The Sunday Times - “you are right and there is more to it….education is not only a passport to better future, it’s also the new caste system...here have a look”. I glanced at the circled matrimonial ad, it read- “….match invited for a slim, fair girl….and went onto mention- “elder sister married to IIM graduate, settled in US” I chuckled and read the ones around it- “Match invited for an IIT graduate…”, “….BTech, Software engineer, settled in New York…”

I was with Suharsh on this one- “Yes, education is the new caste system and come to think of it- caste is nothing but a social stratification and education and occupation provide easy handles to stratify. Education- particularly your degree or the college you pass out from is certainly a part of your identity”

Suharsh was thinking like a brand manager now- “if education is given so much importance, then it is natural that education category will have a very complicated, lets put it this way, purchase decision process”

I nodded in agreement pulling out a cigarette, indicating that I was already getting involved in the discussion- “you are right; after all it has all the characteristics of high involvement- huge investment, infrequent purchase and more importantly its irreversible. The other category which is as complex that comes to mind is buying a home, but in case you are not happy with the investment, you can sell the property and exit but what would you do if you are stuck in a course that is dissatisfactory and takes away few important years of your life?” I sighed.

As I gestured driver to roll down the windows and lighted my smoke, Suharsh spoke “branding in education is a very tricky issue. If you are too vocal, you are seen as too commercial and selling education like soap or a moisturizer and if you don’t speak at all- you remain anonymous. Of course, barring the top institutions like IITs, IIMs and other few which have already established themselves as formidable brands in the category, this is a problem that most emerging institutions face”

I got his point and elaborated it further “very true, what adds to the problem is that majority of private institutions consider brand building to be all about organizing high profile events, developing slick ads, getting a good-looking logo and a flashy website…what they forget is that each brand should stand for certain values and unless those values are credible, relevant and distinct and unless each stakeholder understands, imbibes and demonstrates these values in a consistent way, they are really not building brands or delivering on any brand promise. It’s all about getting the basics right”

Suharsh added an interesting dimension to the argument “Hmmm…now that you have brought it up, I think there are more stakeholders involved in this category than in any other category that I know of- students, faculty, parents, recruiters, alumni, aspirants and even government. Any exercise in brand building should involve and factor in the needs of all the stakeholders and the brand promise should appeal to all. The brand building process has to be inside out and not vice versa”

I chipped in with my bit “come to think of it, all ads in this category look, feel and sound the same. Every institution talks about the same 3 or 4 things- 100% placements, best in class infrastructure, reputed faculty, industry exposure and in some cases even foreign associations and collaborations. Mostly making exaggerated claims, they are- as in your face as they can get. I mean how is size of the campus, guaranteed laptop and air-conditioned classroom even remotely correlated with the quality of education”

Suharsh had another piece of data ready- “…and I recently read that education sector was one of the highest spenders on advertising last year, the sector spent a sum upwards of 900 crores in advertising”. My face reflected genuine surprise and anguish- “900 Cr spent on communicating generic attributes, that are either undifferentiated or irrelevant…come on, these colleges have some very intelligent academicians and businessmen at the helm, I wonder why they can’t understand this basic flaw in their brand building endeavors?”

Suharsh requested our over enthusiastic driver to desist racing with other cars on highway and went on with his explanation- “Consider the example of a private management institute that dares the aspirants to think beyond IIMs. It has an exaggerated, albeit unique communication and they spend generously in promoting themselves. I am sure they have right media weights. Though this particular institution might be fairly well known (speaking strictly in terms of share of media voice) when you compare it with IIMs (only because it wants us to think beyond IIMs), the two institutes conjure up completely different imagery. While one stands for the best management education in the country the other…well, lesser said, the better”

Digging into the sandwich we packed from airport, I complemented his thoughts “probably that’s where IITs, IIMs, XLRI or NITs stand as formidable brands…they communicate certain values and conjure an imagery that’s not based on generics like placements or infrastructure”

Drawing form his own MBA experience, Suharsh added- “you’ve hit the nail on the head. In fact the campus size of XLRI might be smaller than what some of these private colleges claim in their ads, but that’s absolutely irrelevant…what matters is the values that XLRI stands for and the promise of ‘socially responsible managers’ it delivers on. IIMs take pride in claiming ‘we don’t guarantee placements!’ because they deliver on a much bigger promise of grooming and creating the leaders of tomorrow, the placements in such scenario is a given”

I retorted- “but we cannot ignore the fact that even then the private colleges are packed to capacity, right?” checking his mails, Suharsh replied- “Agreed, there is always a queue even outside the private colleges. But don’t forget that this queue is no measure of a good brand. We all know that demand supply equation in Indian higher education sector is skewed with huge population and too few colleges. So there is no surprise that a seat in any college never goes vacant, and that gives an opportunity for lot of these colleges to charge huge premium on admissions. But it’s a mistake to confuse this premium with Brand Equity. This premium is simply the result of yawning demand-supply gap”

I had an example to illustrate the point “my cousin appeared for the engineering entrance examination this year but couldn’t get a seat in any of the top, reputed colleges. He didn’t want to take a break, so started evaluating the available options. He was utterly confused, he referred to rankings by various magazines and websites to make a decision but they only added to his confusion- each source had their own rankings which was different from all other rankings. It came to a point when all the available options started looking the same and he finally chose a college on the basis of convenience and proximity to his home. I am sure lot of aspirants face this dilemma and this is nothing but an indication that the sector is getting commoditized”

I guess we were bored of discussing on the same topic for so long. As the car cruised on the highway, Suharsh and I curiously looked at the landscape dotted with private engineering and MBA colleges at every few kilometers. Another private university ad jingle played on radio followed by a property ad when I quipped- “I want to be the guy who is selling land to these private universities”

Happy Independence Day

2010-08-15T00:49:00.000+05:30

I am not very fond of driving, especially on weekends. The whole city seems to be in transit and the traffic moves at a crawling pace. It also doesn’t help that I stay in the lane next to a Big Bazaar. The ‘Independence Day’ sale at Big Bazaar is the biggest ‘mela’ that you can see in an urban setting and all roads within a radius of few kilometers from the store are choc- o- block. So, in the evening when I had to go to a temple I decided to take an auto rikshaw.

After being denied rather impolitely almost half a dozen times, finally an autowallah gave me a fair hearing. Thick beard and a skull cap made his religious identity quite clear. “Ulsoor. Balaji Temple?” I asked him unsure of his response. “Return bhi ana hai kya?” his interest surprised me. “Haan bhai, abhi permanently jaane ka waqt nahi aaya hai” I said jokingly. He got the joke and smiled with a “kyaa sir aap bhi…?” Getting back to business, I said “it will take ten minutes. Can you wait?”

“Baitho…par ten Rupees extra dena…waiting ka ” he said pointing towards the seat and we began our journey. The traffic was awful and we were hardly moving. I could see him getting all worked up, so to break the tension I started the conversation “Naam kya hai apka” “Ahmed” he said without turning back. “Traffic kafi bura hai” I commented. “Puchiye mat sir. Yeh road hamesha jam milta hai” “Aur yeh metro ke kaam ki wajah se bhi problem ho raha hoga. Kab tak banega yeh?” I asked him sympathizing with his problem. “Sir, yahan koi kaam time pe hota hai kya? Sab jagah corruption hai. Aap ne news mein dekha hi hoga commonwealth games mein kya gadbad ho raha hai” “Hmmm…” I said in a reflective tone, impressed by his awareness of current issues. “Sir aap ko kya lagta hai…yeh games ho payange India mein? Country ke izzat ka sawal hai” I didn’t have an answer really “ho jayage. Kisi na kisi tarah manage kar lenge. Hume aadat hai na aise kaam karne ki” I reassured him.

“Acha ek bat batao- aap log ye hamesha extra kyon charge karte ho. Meter ke upar?” I tried changing the topic. “Aap ko to pata hai sir, mehangayi bhad gayi hai itni. Petrol Diesel ka keemat har din bhad rahai hai. Bolo kya karega hum log?” he was quick with the retort. While we were engaged in this conversation a young boy selling national flags in various sizes and shapes approached us. It was the eve of 14th August and every signal had these selling. Ahmed was a smart negotiator, he asked the boy picking up a small one “kitne ka diya?” the boy announced the price “15 Rupees” Ahmed made another offer “Agar bada bhi loonga to discount dega” While the boy was still calculating in his mind, Ahmed offered a solution “yeh chota, bada aur saath mein badge (to be worn on shirt) sab mila ke fifty mein de de” assessing that he couldn’t get more from Ahmed the vendor said “de doh” and closed the deal.

I was intrigued when Ahmed began carefully folding and stacking the flags “You are not putting them now?” I probed. “Nahi sir. I will put them tomorrow morning” he explained. “Why” I asked intuitively and my heart clenched at the dumbness of my question. “Kal 15th August hai na sir. Apna independence day. Isliye” he explained without judging me. “Aap yeh har saal karte ho? Yeh flag aur sab?” I wanted to know. “Yes sir, har saal... aur is din mein ekdum fresh kapde pehanta hoon auro auto bhi chakachak rakhta hoon” he replied in an excited tone.

I was both impressed and puzzled with his narration “par abhi toh aap itni complaint kar rehe the. Poor infrastructure, corruption, price increase in sab ke bare mein? Fir bhi?” I voiced my doubt.

“Sir, tell me which country is perfect. Har mulk ke apne problems hai. Mana yeh problems hain…lekin yeh hamari hain aur hum inse nipat lenge. Kisi ke gulam toh nahi hain na hum. Aap freedom ko problems se compare nahi kar sakte. Aur tarakki bhi toh kar raha hai na India. Sochiye agar hum Pakistan, Afghanistan ya Bangladesh mein paida hue hote toh? kitni buri halat hoti?” he was forceful in putting forward his point of view.

I kept my promise of not more than ten minutes waiting and returned with a packet of ‘prashad’ for him. He thanked while taking it and as a mark of respect touched it to his forehead before consuming it. On our way back, the auto came to a sudden halt at a signal and refused to start. “Sir kuch problem lagta hai. Sorry aap ko doosra auto lena padega” he said. “That’s ok. Kitna Hua” I wanted to know. Looking at the meter and referring to the new rate list he said “Seventy Five sir” “Extra Mila ke?” I asked “Nahi sir, extra rehne dijiye. Aapne prashad khila diya bahut hai” he spoke in a friendly tone.

As I settled the bill and started to walk, he called me aloud “and sir Happy Independence day” “aap ko bhi” I responded. Happy Independence day.

Donnie

2010-06-24T14:26:00.000+05:30

"If there is a heaven, it's certain my dog is going to be there because No heaven will not ever Heaven be, unless my dog is there to welcome me. Rest in peace Donnie- you are buried in our hearts"

I have always been fascinated by dogs. As a kid, I envied people who had pet dogs. The sight of people walking their dogs fuelled my imagination and I would picturize the day when I would be the proud owner of one. The collage of images of my pet walking obediently next to me, leaping at me with a wagging tail as I come back from school, fetching the ball that I threw far in the air- gave me an adrenaline rush. So crazy was I about dogs that I used to befriend people who had dogs and insisted on visiting relatives and family friends who had pets.

I used to feed stray dogs in my locality, give them names and feel supremely happy when any of them responded to my name calls. My happiness knew no bounds whenever I spotted pups on the street. I used to spend all my pocket money in feeding them with bread and Parle biscuits. I would experience the biggest joys of my life when any of them followed me after these feeding sessions. I would pick them up, kiss them on their faces, talk to them and promise them that I would return next day. Bollywood portrayal of dog as the most faithful (and often sacrificing) companion in movies like “Teri Meherbaniyan” and “Mard” firmed my belief that only my pet dog could be my best friend.

My parents were completely aware of this obsession of mine and cleverly dodged my umpteen requests to own a pet. They somehow believed that I would get rid of this obsession as I grow up, but with age, my resolve only got stronger and my arguments became more powerful and they finally succumbed to my demands when I was in teens.

I vividly remember my first encounter with my ‘pet to be’. It was a veterinary clinic and he made a rather grand entry, escaping from the doctor’s arms, jumping on to my parents, snatching and trying to chew up my mother’s purse and finally came to a halt after peeing in geometric circles on the doc’s table. My parents were sickened; it was their worst nightmare coming true. This creature was an absolute contrast to what they had in mind. The common archetype of a puppy- the coy, cute being was shattered by this wild, misbehaved beast, almost like an experiment gone wrong. Poor parents who thought a pet meant a furry Pomeranian were scandalized to see a three month old boxer. Let alone fur, it didn’t even have a tail. Being a brindle, it had stripes running all over the body that looked like dirt marks. There was more, the breed has a face which looks swollen like it was punched, a broad skull and hanging jaws.

My mother was numb from the shock and all my father could utter was “Beta yeh kya hai?” My younger brother who was my key supporter in my negotiations for owning a pet was now hiding behind my mother, scared if the dog would pounce on him next.

But I was determined; I only wanted a boxer, a breed that stands out in the crowd of dainty looking Pomeranians or spitz which most households had. To me they were plastic dogs and this was the real dog- the man among dogs.

Dad was unmoved “remember, if you get this one, we won’t have anything to do with him. You have to take care of him all by yourself” he said. But I had already made up my mind and like always my parents succumbed to my stubbornness.

The first thing the dog did when he entered our house, was running all around, sniffing each nook and corner and simultaneously peeing all over the place, as if it was marking its territory. Exasperated, my dad said “welcome trouble”

My father was indifferent to him, my brother was scared of him and my mother was a fence sitter. Dogs have a very powerful sixth sense and he could make out that I was the only one backing him. So for the first week, he just kept following me like a shadow- sit next to my study table while I was reading, sleep next to my bed and even follow me to the bathroom and wait for me till I came out. He used to desperately search for me when I stepped out of house and wait for me at the gate till I got back. From a distance he would pick up the hum of my vehicle and start jumping at the gate, vigorously wagging his two inch tail. He would not even let me park and jumped right into my arms, licking me all over the place. No one had ever given me that kind of undivided attention and affection and I felt like the most loved person on the earth.

Meanwhile, my brother grew jealous of this growing bonding between us, so, while I was away, he started making attempts to befriend the pup. Also, the maternal instincts of my mother got into play and she started pampering him. But my father was disinclined even now. The poor dog used all his antics to charm him but nothing worked with my dad.

Now it was time for the big decision, what should we name him? My mother and brother enthusiastically suggested few names but I had the veto. As a kid, I was always fascinated by the villains or so called dons in bollywood movies. The raw power they had, their weapons, the fear they evoke and the unflinching respect they used to get in their clan used to inspire me. At the same time I was aware of my own limitations of stature and physical strength. I envisaged that my boxer would make up for all my weaknesses and together we would become a force that would be revered and respected just like the ‘dons’ whom I idolized. So, I wanted to call him Don but then realized it would expose my hidden intentions and even sounded like a hyperbole. I finally settled for a ‘Donnie’- Don with a cute suffix. Rest of the family was disgusted with my choice of name but then came around as usual.

But Donnie grew up as an exact opposite of the menacing beast that I wanted him to be. He was the most docile, playful and friendly dog I had ever seen. While walking on the street, he would wag his tail at every passerby and pulled me towards anyone who gave him half a glance. The only reason I tolerated this behaviour was because it gave me an opportunity to strike a conversation with beautiful strangers. The only people whom Donnie troubled were the kids who used to play cricket in front of my house. Every time the ball fell on our side of fence, Donnie would quickly grab it, run inside and hide it in a place even we couldn’t find. As we couldn’t return the ball, the kids suspected us to be the partners in crime and eventually stopped playing there.

One of the reasons why people keep dogs is for security, but Donnie was anything but a guard dog. He refused to stay out at night and scratched the doors till we let him in. We acknowledged this very early and set up a small bed for him in the living area itself, but he refused to sleep there. He wanted an equal treatment and wanted to sleep in my room and my bed. My mother caught him red handed several times snoring away to glory happily tucked under my blanket in the wee hours of morning. He was punished and we (brother & me) were given strict instructions not to allow him on the bed. But Donnie was a clever dog and he found a perfect solution for this. He would pretend to sleep in his bed initially, then, as my mom went off to sleep, he would quietly enter her room, sniff around and carefully touch her toes with his wet nose to see if she was really asleep. Then he would come to my bed, put his front feet up and slowly slide his head under my blanket, stay like that for while and assessing the situation he would lift rest of his body up and sleep peacefully with me. In the morning, just before my mother got up he jumped out of my bed and inhabited his bed.

One underlining characteristic of his personality was his hunger…he was perennially hungry and gulped food in such a hurry as the food would vanish. His tummy was a bottomless pit and he would drool for everything that was food, including ants and the contents of our dustbin.

In one such excavations of the kitchen waste, Donnie tasted a mango for the first time. Thus started the biggest love affair of his life- his obsession for mangoes was beyond description. He could beat the best sniffer dogs if the search was for hidden mangoes. He used to create havoc whenever mangoes were brought home, standing by the kitchen door he used to bark continuously till he was given one. He had to be the first one to taste the fruit and mind you he didn’t touch the cut fruit. He only wanted the whole fruit with skin. He would eat the fruit so voraciously that by end of it his face would be smeared with pulp and he continued licking the seed till it went dry and didn’t give any taste.

He also loved car rides; he used to hop in whenever we took out the car and would refuse to get down till we took him for a ride. Settled on the back seat, he kept peeping out of the window thoroughly enjoying the gush of wind on his face. Once I remember, we took him for a ride and driving at a comfortable speed, I was engaged in a conversation with my brother when I suddenly had to apply breaks. I saw a dog running along the car, it took me few seconds to realise that it was Donnie. What happened was that he saw a push cart loaded with mangoes and jumped out of the car, on being chased by the vendor he started running to catch us.

Donnie had a girlfriend as well, called ‘Sonia’ a beautiful stray I used to feed daily. Both of them used to spend hours prancing on the opposite sides of the closed main gate, often taking a break to come closer and lick each others faces through the grills. Sonia used to accompany us whenever I took Donnie for walks and she was the only person in the world that he didn’t mind sharing food with- and that in the dog’s world is the true test of love and relationship. Once a pack of rowdy dogs attacked Sonia in front of my home, I heard her cry in despair and ran out with a stick to help her, they were four or five of them and suddenly charged on me. While I took a step back I realized that I didn’t close the gate and Donnie was standing next to me. I had never seen Donnie is such an avatar. Raised strands of hair, ears all lifted up and exhibiting sharp teeth clenched in anger, it was ready take on the pack. Before I could do any thing it pounced on them and fought so bravely in spite of being overpowered and bitten by them. By the time I could take stock of the situation, he was bleeding from several places but didn’t let the stray dogs touch Soniya or me. My perception of him changed completely after this and he became my real hero.

Years passed and it was time for me and my brother to move out of Agra. Age was catching up on Donnie too. The hyper active and impatient Donnie of young days who could hardly stay still at a place even for minute would now keep lying still at a place, with head sunk between the stretched legs. The wrinkles on his forehead and the lost look in his eyes gave him the appearance of a philosopher in contemplation. The reason for the inactivity was acute arthritis. The condition affected his hind legs the most and became even severe in winters, when he could hardly pick himself up. He needed help in getting up and needed a great deal of effort in lying or sitting down in a position that didn’t put too much pressure on the weak feet. Donnie also developed a cataract and in spite of treatment somehow couldn’t get his vision fully back. Where he would leap and jump all the time and didn’t let any one enter home without pampering him, now he would just lie quietly in the corner, looking at you with raised brows and wagging his two inch tail expressing his happiness on your coming home. Throughout my stay in hostel, my walls were adorned only with pictures of Donnie and invariably all my phone conversations with family would start with “How is Donnie?”

I went after few months in my first semester break and was surprised to see the turn of events. After we (brother & me) had left home, my parents had divided between them all the chores related to Donnie. My mother would take care of his food and other regular needs while my father was responsible for taking him out on walks and all his medication. For a person who was dead against bringing Donnie home, my father’s equation with Donnie now was beyond belief. The relationship they shared was nothing short of a father son bond. He loved taking Donnie out on walks and on many occasions he would actually talk to Donnie, from a distance it looked as if they were having an intimate conversation. In the evenings they would go to the nearby park and sit there, my dad on the concrete bench and Donnie beside him, watching the kids play. While Donnie had outgrown the habit of grabbing the balls that came his way, my dad often bought him colorful balls and tried engaging him in a sport. He even got a special low lying bed made for him and personally picked up a cushion with a design of stars and Santa Claus on it. On the nights that Donnie had aggravated pain, he would keep going to him and checking on him on an hourly basis. Stroking his forehead, he would every time ask him “are you feeling better Donnie?” My mother on the other hand would refuse to leave Donnie alone. In last five years, she has not visited me ever for more than two days and even in such short visits all she could think of was Donnie. She would call my dad several times to check if he has eaten the food or not, did he go for a walk or not. The affection was mutual, even Donnie was extremely attached to her- my mother had to stand there till he finished his food or he would refuse to eat. On the rare occasions when she traveled, he would not touch his food, no matter what was on the plate- even mangoes.

After marriage, when my wife came first time to my place, there was a traditional welcome ceremony where they do a small puja at the entrance. There were people crowding the entrance busy doing the rituals. Suddenly Donnie emerged to the front limping his way through them. He was very excited to see us and could make out that the new person accompanying me was important for the family. Almost like a special gesture to welcome Tanu Donnie wanted to stand on his feet to reach her. But the weak hind legs couldn’t take the weight and he cringed in unbearable pain. With a loud shriek, unable to tolerate the pain he started chewing the wooden plank of the door. Tanu quickly reached him and consoled him, while my dad ran for the pain reliever.

The next few days were mostly spent nursing Donnie and now it was time for us to go.

Donnie was able to at least stand now and walk slowly nonetheless with a limp. The family including Donnie gathered near the car to see us off. Tanu and I said a very personal goodbye to Donnie. The car just started pulling out when the Driver had to apply sudden breaks. Before I could ask him what the matter was, I saw Donnie next to my side of the door. He started scratching my door wanting me to open it. As I climbed down and sat on my knees to reach him, he started licking me all over my face. While I picked him in my arms, I could feel the tears running down from both our eyes. It’s true; there is no greater feeling of love in the world than your dog licking your face.

PS: Exactly two weeks after I wrote this blog post, Donnie Passed away.

I love Bangalore

2010-04-16T17:56:00.000+05:30

Sunday, 15th June 2008, Bangalore (Home)

I finally got the job that I wanted so badly and they gave me the location of my preference- Gurgaon. Everyone was happy- my parents, in laws and all others who mattered to me. They always wanted me to move closer to home but were kind enough not to force me. Tanu, the ever giving soul that she is, was happy for me and agreed to apply for a transfer in her organization. I was to join next day and had an early morning flight. But in all this something somewhere didn’t feel right. Didn’t know what was troubling me because everything was happening as per plan- I even had a farewell party last evening.

Tanu broke my chain of thoughts- “come on get up and start packing. You have an early morning flight so finish it fast” I kept lying on the couch surfing the channels aimlessly, I mumbled- “I don’t feel like going” not taking me seriously she said “shut up and start packing. Don’t expect me to do it for you”.

I switched off the TV and asked her to sit with me, now she knew I was serious (switching off TV really means something big) Trying to look as innocent as possible I said “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to relocate to Gurgaon. I want to stay in Bangalore. I love this city” That was the first time I confessed my love for Bangalore. She lost her cool “don’t talk nonsense, we have already booked an apartment in Gurgaon, appointed the movers and packers, and more importantly you have to join tomorrow, what will you tell them- that sorry I love Bangalore I can’t come…and…and …if you realize you will be jobless if you do that” I knew she was right, but had a plan already “all of that can be taken care of. I will call them and apologize and if they don’t understand my situation- frankly, I don’t care. As far as the job is concerned, I had an offer in Bangalore that I refused last month, I will speak to them…If they haven’t hired anyone, may be they would be kind enough to reconsider me” Tanu was perplexed “Where was your love for Bnagalore all this while, why are you doing this at last minute”

“I guess it was always there…just that I didn’t realize it till I had to part my way” I replied. That was probably the most irrational decision I had ever taken in my life- but now when I look back I only feel happy about it.

Some time in 2004, Ahmedabad (MICA)

“If you get this job, you are going to be posted in Bangalore. Is that OK with you? Given that your family is settled in north” asked the interviewer. I was honest in my reply “Bangalore is of the reasons why I am keen on this job. I am an Andhrite who grew up mostly in UP. I always wanted to reestablish my connection with south and this job will give me an opportunity to do that” She smiled at my rather lame explanation, but thankfully gave me the job.

It was long journey for me from Agra to Bangalore and my train reached the Bangalore station at midnight. While the auto was zipping fast on the deserted roads, I could feel a strange sense of familiarity with the city. It is difficult to put it in words and almost impossible to explain, it was my first visit to the city but I already felt like I belonged to this place- may be it was the overriding optimism of the first job which made me feel that way. I have stayed in many cities and extensively traveled across the country but never felt anything similar anywhere.

Bangalore was all that I imagined and more- cosmopolitan minus the madness and pretence of a big city. I can’t say anything about the weather that hasn’t been said before- it is to die for and compensates all other shortcomings of the city. And yes, the beer never tastes as good anywhere.

I am very fond of movies and particularly those where the place plays an important role in the story – sometimes the backdrop is so important and adds so many layers to the story

Similarly, Bangalore has been the backdrop of some of my happiest memories- this is the place I got my first job, where I fell in love and together we built a place that we call our home. Yes, that is the word- Bangalore feels like home.

In last six years I met and made friends with some of the most amazing people and as I discovered Bangalore- I discovered myself.

Thursday, 18th March 2010, Bangalore (Airport)

The immigration officer carefully looks at my passport and still gazing into it asks “How long have you been in Bangalore?” “Six years sir”- I replied. “I am sure you still can’t speak Kannada” he said. “Not much” I said validating his assumption. To make me uncomfortable, he asked “Ninna hesaru yenu?” taking my passport back much to his disappointment I replied “Nanna hesaru Gurudev saar and I love namma Bengalaru”

Mr. Rao

2009-11-09T17:35:00.000+05:30

I hate driving within the city so I very often end up using the paid cab service to go to my office which is on the other end of the city and that is how I met Mr. Rao, almost eighteen months ago.

With his medium build, side parted hair and a well trimmed moustache, Mr. Rao, in his mid thirties, looked more like an employee of some government undertaking than a cab driver.

Always dressed impeccably in a sky blue shirt and warm grey trousers complete with properly polished black shoes Rao was often the better dressed one between the both of us.

It worked like this- whenever I needed a cab, I used to call the helpline of ‘Dot on time’ city taxi service and depending on where I was, they would arrange for a cab that was closest to my location of my pick up.

On that particular day, they had sent Mr. Rao to pick me up. He slid open the door of his Maruti van branded with ‘Dot on time’ city taxi stickers for me and greeted with a big smile and a courteous “Good morning Sir”. While I smiled back, I was pleasantly surprised by his behavior.

I was dozing off comfortably in the cab when I heard his “Hello”. Sleepish-ly I asked “What happened?” not realizing that he was talking over the phone. He immediately cut the call and apologized “Sorry sir, did I disturb you?” Impressed by his etiquette, I said “No, no, that’s perfectly fine. This is the first time that I could actually sleep in the cab, other wise they keep that wireless radio on which blurts out information about passengers and pick up details. It is so annoying, it hardly lets you sleep”. In proper English, he replied “I know Sir, that’s why I turned it off, so that you don’t have any disturbance”

Thoroughly impressed, now I was intrigued too. I asked him “you don’t look anything like a cab driver. How did you get into this business?” Sensing my interest, he started “I was in my PUC sir when my father passed away. I had to leave my studies and start working to support my family. I did a lot of small jobs before I finally got into a logistics company where I performed well and I was promoted to the supervisor level. Then an MNC bought over the company and changed all the policies. According to their policy, you had to be a graduate to be a supervisor and should also know computers. I was not a graduate but was willing to learn computers, however they didn’t give me a chance and I had to leave the company”

He was not finished yet, negotiating with the traffic, he continued “Around that time IT industry was growing in Bangalore, many software companies and call centers were being set up and there was lot of demand for cabs. So I thought why not start up on my own and since then I have been driving”

As he was anticipating my response, I said “great. See… you lost job because you didn’t know computers and now you are making a living because of the people who work on computers whole day. What goes around comes around”

As we reached my office, he said “Sir I stay very close to your place and in the mornings I am generally at home. You can take my cell number and directly call me from next time” I noted his number thinking how convenient that would make my life and that is how our relationship started.

Every time I, my wife or my friends needed a cab, we used to call him directly and he would always oblige. In case he couldn’t come personally he would at least arrange a cab for us and it always took lesser time than what ‘Dot on time’ taxi service would have taken.

One day, on my way to office I was trying hard to keep myself awake as I hadn’t slept the last night, so I asked him stop by a Pan shop to pick up cigarettes. As I lit my cigarette, he curiously commented “Sir, I have never seen you smoke before?” I smiled as I explained him “I usually don’t smoke unless I am too stressed…and please don’t tell this to my wife, she will kill me and you will be responsible” Shyly he complied- “No, no sir what are you saying, never”

A month after this, I was coming from Mumbai and I called him to pick me up from the airport. There was some political rally that day and we were stuck in traffic for hours. I was desperately searching for a cigarette shop but couldn’t see one. Sensing my frustration he offered me help- “Sir would you like to smoke?” I confessed “Ya, I would feel better with one, but I can’t see a shop here”.

What he said next was music to my ears “You can take from this” he said as he offered me a pack of Wills Navy Cut that he just pulled out from his dash board. Plucking a cigarette I asked him “But you don’t smoke. How come you stock them?” Now it was his turn to confess “Sir I also don’t smoke but this traffic…aiyyo… it’s too much sir. So once in a while I smoke to handle this. But very limited sir... only one or two per day”

To shrug of his hesitation, I said “That’s ok. Would you like to smoke as well?” He took up my offer pulled a cigarette for himself. As we lit our cigarettes and let a sigh of smoke, I saw other people in the traffic watching us in amusement.

Once my wife and I were traveling in his cab when I asked him “do you have children?” Cheerfully he said “Yes sir, I have a daughter. She just turned two last month” Tanu wanted to know “is she naughty?” Opening up to the topic he said “Yes madam, she is very naughty. In fact I have the album of her recent birthday party with me” and he handed over the album from the dashboard to us.

The parents and the baby dressed in their best clothes and smiling to the camera made a picture perfect family, a family that looked happy together. The baby was adorable and one could make out that she was center of their universe. As he put the album back he said “Sir, there is no bigger joy than going back to a home where your child is waiting for you. She brightens up as she sees me and I completely forget all the day’s stress and become a child with her” he finished by saying “I want to give her the best of education, best of everything that I couldn’t get”. It was moving to see a father trying to relive his childhood through his daughter.

Meanwhile, I got a driver and started using the cab only on few rare occasions particularly for airport drops and pick ups. On one such occasion, I saw his cab stripped off- of all the ‘dot on time’ taxi service stickers and even the wireless set was missing. I asked him “are you no longer with the ‘Dot on time’? Taking a breather he replied “yes sir, I pulled out of that service. I was paying them three thousand rupees monthly just to get information about pick ups. All my passengers call me directly so I hardly need that information, so why unnecessarily pay them”

After some time he asked me “Sir, what is this recession and when is this likely to end?” I wasn’t expecting a question like this from him, so, instead of answering I asked him a question “Why are you asking. Is it affecting you by any chance?” He was looking uncomfortable telling me “most of my passengers are from software companies and lot of them have reduced using cab services. They prefer autos or are using shared car services and when I ask them all of them say it is because of recession” To reassure him I said “Don’t worry, we will come out of it very soon”

He still looked concerned “sometimes I think I should take up a job. I even tried contacting few companies but all of them rejected me because I don’t know computers” trying to pass it off as a joke he said “this computer will never leave me”

A month later, he picked me again from the airport and today he was looking very glum. He didn’t speak a word in the entire journey. On one of the red lights, a fat, bulky guy suddenly opened the door and got in forcibly. While I was still shocked, Rao started talking to him in Kannada. From his tone I could make out that he was pleading for something. I could gather that he was requesting the fat guy not to create a scene before me. In Kannada he said “please don’t create a scene before the passenger and please let me drop him”

While the fat guy refused to listen to him at all, another person came on to the driver’s window and took off the keys. At this point I intervened “What is happening here. Who are these guys?” Mr. Rao tried his best to keep a normal face “Nothing sir, some confusion. These are recovery agents and they have got the wrong information. By mistake the bank has given them my car number” Before he could finish the fat guy looked at me and spoke in a dominating voice “he is lying to you. He has not paid the EMI for last four months, we are seizing his car. You can take an auto and go” and he signaled a passing auto to stop.

I didn’t want to look directly into Rao’s face and embarrass him more. His face was red with humiliation and I could sense that he was trying hard to control his tears. Sandwiched between the two fat guys he looked visibly meek and insulted- as if someone stripped off his honor. Now I could understand why he might have opted out of the ‘Dot on time’ taxi service, he could not afford the service anymore.

I wanted to help him but there was nothing I could do. All I could say was “Don’t worry everything will be fine. You call me if you need any thing” As I was getting into auto, he ran up to me with teary eyes said “I am sorry sir, very sorry for all this”. Sensing his helplessness l said “don’t be stupid, be strong and sort out the matter. Everything will be fine”

That evening I called to check on him if he was fine. He was sounding better now “the matter is in control now sir. They have given me a month’s time to pay the due amount. I will arrange it by then”. I offered him help “tell me if there is anything that I can do. Anything” I was careful with my words as I didn’t want to hurt his self respect.

For the next one month whenever I called Mr. Rao, he always arranged a cab for me but never came personally. He would always apologize and tell me that he was with some other passenger or that he was not feeling well or that he has gone out of town. I thought he was too embarrassed to face me and understood his situation completely.

Then one day he finally called me and said “Sir I wanted to meet you when you are free. Can you give me some time” Unable to read what was on his mind I said “You can meet me tomorrow morning at eight thirty. That’s when I leave for the office; I will see you outside my apartment’s gate”

Mr. Rao was waiting for me at the gate. For the first time I saw him in a shirt of some other colour than blue. He was wearing a crisp white shirt paired with black trousers today and looked better that the last time I saw him. In his hand he held a brown envelope. I greeted him “how are you and where have you been?” and stretched my hand for a shake hand.

Holding my hand in both his hands, he gave me large smile and told me “I am fine sir. I sold my car last week and paid back the loan. I have decided to take up a job. Just wanted to give you my CV, if there is anything in your company please do let me know”.

Taking his CV I reassured him “good, you have decided to make a new start. I will definitely look out if there is anything for you”.

Then as I turned on my ignition he proudly declared “…and sir I have started learning computers, I have enrolled into an evening class” he took a pause and then almost personifying computer as his enemy he said “…and this time I will not leave him"

Movie review: Love Aaj Kal

2009-08-11T09:49:00.000+05:30

I have been withholding this post for almost a week now. I saw Love Aaj kal on the first day itself but couldn’t quite make up my mind whether I liked it or not. Intuitively I was comparing it with Imtiaz’s previous work. That it when I decided that I should give it some time to sink in, distance myself from it for a while and then watch it again- this time objectively and then put my views together.

Today, I got out early from my work and went straight to the closest multiplex. Afternoon shows on weekdays are generally unfilled and you have the luxury of choosing your seat. When I enquired the lady at the ticket counter for the top row, she winked at me and asked if I would prefer the corner seats. Taking her clue I clarified that I am watching the movie alone and I don’t mind any seat till it’s a top row.

While I barely settled on my seat, I saw a young couple getting too comfortable on the corner seat(s) that I skipped. Their movie had begun much before the screen lit. Without diverting much let me come back to Love Aaj Kal.

I am a huge Imtiaz Ali fan and loved all his previous work. I loved Socha Na Tha the most, followed by Jab We Met and Ahista Ahista (story by him). I love the way he decodes the youth of today- their confusions, their aspirations and their varied interpretations of love- all of this mostly unfolding in the backdrop of ever vibrant and colorful heartland of India. It is amazing how the ‘place’ plays such an important role in all his plots.

I liked the way the story unfolds in Love Aaj Kal. In terms of technique it is the most sophisticated of all of Imtiaz’s work. The parallel tracks seamlessly travel between places, people and time zones till they merge in the end. It was a clever idea to use Saif to potray the young Rishi Kapoor as well as it gave the audience a common lever to draw the analogy between the past and the present, and, it is done in a way that it doesn’t confuse the ‘aam junta’ (mango people). Personally, this was easy for me to rationalize than the logic of Paresh playing multiple roles in Oye Lucky Lucky Oye (I am the mango people).

The Saif-Deepika track confused me. I wish the director could have spent more time in building it. It was hurried as if it had to reach somewhere. It lacked ‘soul’ and was kind of shallow and superficial which makes you wonder why the couple was chasing it so hard and what exactly changed their hearts to take such intense steps. Frankly, it didn’t deserve the pursuit as shown in the movie. It was un-relatable even for the young, metro, multiplex audiences.

Imtiaz’s one liners are nothing short of insights on youth (who can forget “main apni favourite hoon” from Jab We Met) but most of the lines fell flat in this one and my heart cringed every time Saif said “Jaaneman” with a nasal twang.

Deepika looked a million bucks and to me her role was more challenging than Saif’s. Her character required a restraint which was very endearing. She shows all the right expressions but needs to work hard on her dialogue delivery.

I know I shouldn’t get into each scene but some of them were so repulsive that I have to mention them here- the flirting scene between Saif and the other chick in the break up party was ridiculous and didn’t make sense what so ever. I didn’t understand where the ‘twist’ song came from- it was way too ‘filmy’ and forced.

But what hurt me most (literally) was the picturisation of “main kya hoon” track (which shows Saif’s diminishing interest in his dream job) and the subsequent mugging scene. It was one of the most clichéd representations of an emotion even by cinematic standards.

The love story between the sardar Saif and Harleen worked well for me and I assume for most of us. There was something very pure and innocent about it and Saif looked every bit a romantic sardar. The scene where Harleen swaps her seat (in train) to be able to be seen by Saif and where she secretly brings down a cup of black tea for him in Calcutta are what I call the trademark Imtiaz scenes – the ones that melt your heart.

I liked the Saif and Deepika scene in the Delhi metro and the way they have shot the ‘chor bazari’ song. Even the final reunion scene between Saif and Deepika was understated and handled very well. If only there were more gems like that.

While the couple in the corner seats left the hall completely ‘satisfied’, I was left unsatisfied. What could have been a brilliant movie settled for just above average.

Trip to Nagarhole (Kabini)

2009-07-15T16:04:00.000+05:30

Our trip to Nagarhole was adventurous from the word go. To start with, we didn’t take proper directions and ended up driving some fifty extra kilometers.

We stayed in Sunkadakatte Forest Guest House. The guest house is right in the middle of the jungle (5 kilometers inside the jungle to be precise). It is some 220 odd Kms from Bangalore and 80 Kms from Mysore. You have to take the Mysore – Manathavadi road and then the road to Antarasante.

The guest house has three basic rooms with attached, clean toilets. It has an open, wooden floored veranda with comfy cane chairs. There is a separate kitchen in the backyard and a beautiful gazebo adjoining the cottage where the food is served. We landed there in the evening and immediately set out for the safari.

It doesn’t take much to realise why Kabini is one of the most popular wildlife destinations in Karnataka- situated on the picturesque backwaters of river Kabini, the lush green forest reserve offers fantastic sightings of large herds of elephants.

We just went berserk with our cameras. I am most fond of wildlife photography. It tests your patience, like no other activity and the difference between a great shot and an average one is just a nano second. Capturing a dust bathing elephant, or a muscular bison looking intently at you, or that kingfisher just before it takes the flight again- they say a picture speaks a thousand words- it can’t be more true in a jungle – just that here it speaks a million words.

We drained our camera batteries before we returned to the guesthouse and we had to charge them for the morning safari.

Now the big question hovering over us was how to charge the cameras (there is no electricity in the guest house). The guard looked helpless when he informed that the only place we can probably go and charge was the Kabini River Lodge run by the Jungle Lodges and Resorts (JLR). The resort was eighteen kilometers away from the guest house and the darkness was already settling in.

Nevertheless, we decide to drive down to the resort and charge our gadgets. The drive to the resort through the darkness was one of the most memorable drives of my life. It was a strange mix of excitement and fear. While passing the rough, narrow terrain- we crossed an elephant. The shrill trumpeting of the animal scared the living daylights out of me.

Kabini River Lodge is a gorgeous property often rated as one of the best wildlife resorts in the world. The staff was sweet enough to let us charge our gadgets there. On the drive back to the guest house I saw lot of village men sitting on the roadside with torches and sticks in their hands. The guard told us that they were protecting their crop from the elephants. Through out the drive I just kept praying that we should be spared any such encounters with the wild.

There is no electricity and that is the best part about the guesthouse. As the night falls the voices of the wild echo all around you- like the trumpeting of an elephant or the alarm calls of sambar and chital. Chitals and wild boars come conveniently close to the place. Staying here, I felt a lot closer to the nature than staying at any other resorts. We just kept gazing the sky for long time- the sky just wrapped us like a blanket of stars and we had fun spotting the ‘milky way’. There is something so pure about the silence of the nature- it just calms your senses.

The morning safari was equally incredible. Charging our cameras was completely worth it. The safari was full of ‘Kodak’ moments.

We saw herds of elephants, bison, spotted deer, barking deer, sambhar, wild boars and dozens of species of birds like white breasted kingfisher, brahminy kite, painted stork, black ibis and many others- the names (and all the trivia about them) of which only my wife would be able to tell (she is an avid ornithologist).

What made the trip even more special was my first sighting of a pack of Indian wild dogs. They are very rarely spotted. They always hunt in packs and often eat their prey while it is still alive.

And yes, the big cats were elusive as usual. You know I see many people describing their trips to national parks as unsuccessful if they don’t spot the tiger. Also, they spend the entire safari anticipating sighting a tiger, while completely missing all the other marvels that just pass by.
This happens mainly because of their ignorance about the wildlife. If you keep your eyes and mind open you can discover and learn so much about the flora and fauna of a national park. In fact, I always read up (mostly on net) on the terrain, climate, its inhabitants, and the flora and fauna of any place before I visit it. It always helps me to appreciate the place better.

Also, I have seen many people breaching the basic code of conduct of national parks. Make sure you never break the basic rules of the forest- don’t talk loud, don’t honk, don’t play music, avoid using flash, never throw plastic/wrappers, and other trash , don’t feed wild animals and never ever get out of the vehicle. Remember that you are a visitor in their habitat so please don’t overstay your welcome.

Jungle safaris always make me hungry and in breakfast we devoured on hot fluffy pooris and delicious aloo ki sabji. The cook at the guest house is competent and serves you unpretentious, lip smacking food.

Around four in the evening we went for a boat safari organized by the Kabini River Lodge. It is a refreshing change from the usual jeep safaris. Apart from animals and birds that can be sighted during the vehicle safari, the boat safari offers an opportunity to observe the Marsh Crocodile and other water birds. One can also witness large herds of elephants, peacefully feeding and getting on with their lives.

Words can’t describe my joy- when I saw a pack of three elephants (including a young one) swimming across the river to meet the rest of the gang on the other side. They were so quick that I couldn’t capture them in my lens. I think it is true that the most memorable picture from any trip is often etched in your mind and rarely captured in your camera.

The resort offered us a complementary dinner and an invitation to meet the man himself- Col. John F Wakefield (referred lovingly as “papa” by all). Mr. Wakefield can be accredited as the torch bearer of the eco tourism concept in India.

In his mid- nineties, John is the brand ambassador of JLR and is a treasure of knowledge on wildlife. Over a drink, he told us some fascinating tales of his encounters with the wild- his visits to various national parks, first meeting with Jim Corbett (both are hunters turned conservationists), setting up of the Kabini resort and many such gems.

His views on conservation and how controlled tourism can help the cause were enlightening.
I have never met a man who has a sharper memory than him- the way he could recollect the dates, people, places and incidents was hard to believe. I was surprised when he told us that till six months ago he was driving on his own to the jungle.

When he asked us how was the trip- I honestly told him that meeting him was the best thing that happened to me on this trip. He sportingly posed for us and gave me an autographed memorabilia.

Guys, if you happen to visit Kabini then do yourself a favour – go and meet Mr. John Wakefield. He is the real tiger of Nagarhole.

PS: To view pictures from the trip- click on the 'Nagarhole' icon on the right side of the screen.

Chikmagalur- Scenic Acres Homestay

2009-04-09T18:06:00.000+05:30

It was a long weekend after a long time so I wanted to hit the road. This time we decided to drive down to Chikmagalur.

I do a great deal of research in finding the right place to stay-because the quality of stay decides to a great extent whether your trip is good or not so good.

I hate to stay in hotels on my personal trips. Hotels are the same everywhere- standard, boring and undistinguished. If you really want to get a feel of the place, see how the locals live, listen to their stories, taste their food and get a slice of their culture- then home stay is the place for you.

So, when I was surfing for home stays in Chikmagalur, I landed upon this website of a property which was really appealing. I immediately called up the owner to make a booking, but he apologetically told me that the place was running full.

But I decided to try my try my luck here. Almost in a pleading tone, I asked him “can you recommend any other place to me?”

I held my breath as he took a long pause. Then he spoke “Ya, I have friend Raghu, he has a beautiful place. May be you can check there” and gave me the details before hanging up.

When Raghu picked up the phone I hurriedly introduced my self and explained my situation “Raghu, I am planning a trip over this weekend, and looking for a place for seven people for two nights”

“We have a two bedroom cottage, with a huge living room. Even the bedrooms are quite big and we can provide extra beds, I think you guys can fit in well” Raghu replied.

The thought of having the whole cottage to ourselves, not having to share it with other guests and the idea of privacy instantly tempted me.

Like an eager tourist, I probed “can you give me an idea of the location of your home stay? Like how far it is from the town and what is the view like?”

He was composed “you can visit our website and get all that information” he said

“Ok. Can I call you in half an hour?” I wanted to check the site before I took a decision.

Frankly speaking- I was not very impressed with what I saw on scenic acre’s website. The template was dull and images were just about average. It looked like something which has been put together in a hurry, over all it didn’t excite me much.

I wasn’t very convinced, if I have to book a place the website has to win me over first. But as I didn’t have any other options I decided to go ahead with it.

While confirming the booking I casually asked Raghu “Do you have dogs on your property?”

He thought I had some reservations against dogs so tried clarifying to me “We stay next door, i.e. our property is next to the cottage and we have three dogs there-two daschunds and a three month old Labrador pup. But we don’t allow them to go near our guests”

I just jumped with joy when I heard this and solved the misunderstanding “Sorry, I think you got it wrong. Both my wife and I are absolute dog lovers and every time we travel we try to find a place that has dogs. In fact, one of the reasons why we prefer a home stay to a hotel is because of this”

This information about the dogs and especially about the three month old pup completely swung my decision in favor of Scenic acres. I thought that he would make up for what ever is missing in the home stay.

We reached Chikmagalur by lunch time and the home stay was very easy to find. It is located about 5 kms from the town on the way to mullainagiri hills. As Raghu had gone for his game of golf, his wife Kalpana welcomed us at the Scenic Acres.

All of us loved the property. The location, view and the ambience was perfect. It is a colonial style cottage with a red brick exterior. It has a beautiful garden with many fruit and flowering trees. The girls immediately settled on the two hammocks hung by trees, while we took a walk around the property. The cottage even has an extended expanse of grass land, which overlooked the hills. Interestingly there was a badminton net set up there.
The rooms are airy, spacious and clean. They mostly used the cane furniture which is basic and functional.

The best part of the cottage was however the living cum dining hall. This place has windows all around and also a fireplace. There are many games in the home stay that the guests can try their hand at- there is a magnetic dart board, a punching bag and boxing gloves, volleyball, badminton, caroms, scrabble and even an indoor golf putter set.

Coming back to Kalpana, she completely won us over with her warm smile and impeccable hospitality. Really soft spoken, she gave us a great deal of information on the places we should see, about the flora and fauna of the region, about the local customs, on intricacies of coffee plantation and the lives of planters, and lot of other interesting trivia.
Though there is a resident cook, she personally supervises all that happens in the kitchen and makes sure that you are served the authentic malnad food. The food is to die for- the variety, the portions, the desserts -my mouth is watering just thinking about it.I have stayed in so many home stays, but I have to admit that I have never been so pampered for food ever.

Kaplpana can probably teach a lesson or two to most of the hotel management graduates on how to delight your guests.

Who also needs a special mention here is Pushpa- the domestic help at Scenic Acres who will make sure that you are always comfortable and she is always just a call away.

The main hero of the trip however was Jackie- the Labrador pup. My wife and I were most eager to meet him, and the first thing we requested Kalpana was to bring him over to our cottage. Jackie is absolutely adorable, playful and mischievous. Though, I had a difficult time clicking him (as he hardly stays at any place). Man, I want to do another round before he grows big.

We chatted up with Raghu in the evening when he gave us insights about the coffee cultivation, processing and trading. He told us that his family has been into plantations for four generations now. We were surprised to know that he also has a cinema hall in the town. Unassuming and warm, Raghu instantly put us at ease. He even gave us a guided tour to his coffee curing plant in the town.

We had a great time just lazing around and soaking in the beauty of the place and the weekend just flew by. Even before I left the place I wanted to come back again. I strongly recommend Scenic Acres to anyone planning a trip to Chikmagalur. It is the way a home stay should be-not like a paid accommodation but just like staying at your friend’s place.

PS: click on the Chikmagalur icon on the right side of the screen to view pictures from the trip.

At the red light

2009-02-13T14:29:00.000+05:30

selected by BlogAdda as one of the top posts for the week's 'Spicy Saturday Picks'
Link: http://blog.blogadda.com/2009/02/21/blogadda%E2%80%99s-spicy-saturday-picks-feb-21-09

It was a Monday morning. I woke up exactly an hour after the alarm gave up on me. I reached for my cell phone and quickly typed this message “I am sorry, I overslept. Had a party last night. Would be late to office”.

“Ok” said the new inbox message; my boss had given up on me.

It’s a twenty one kilometer drive from my home to office and there are precisely seven signals on the way. I have mentally classified them as good and bad signals, depending on time taken to cross them.

There are two particularly bad signals where the traffic comes to such a standstill that I fear ageing there.

While vehicles stand and stare the red light, a swarm of street sellers spring into action. It’s their show time. From peanuts in paper cones, to deep fried samosas, to ripened guavas, to cheap Chinese toys and cell phone chargers, to dog bone shaped head rests for your car, they sell many such interesting things. Fighting for your attention are also the beggars, eunuchs and the child acrobats with their noses and cheeks painted like clowns.

I was running very low on fuel so I turned off the ignition but kept the music playing. As I was listening to “Masakalli”, I heard a tap on my window. It was a kid wearing a tattered ‘baniyan’ and holding paper cones in one hand. I ignored him and increased the volume, thinking he would move ahead. But he kept tapping on my window harder and harder. As I gave him a stern look, he stopped tapping and came closer; almost sticking his face to the window he started saying something. There were patches of fog forming on the window because of his breath. It was really annoying.

I pulled down the window to the half and yelled “aage jaa na yaar. Dimag mat kharab kar”. Not minding my pitch, he requested “do rupay ka hai. Le lo na saab”. “Subah subah Kaun khata hai mungfali, jaa bhai” I tried shooing him away. Now he started making pity faces. A good salesman I thought “Bhai aagey bhad, yahin khada rahega to signal green ho jayega aur tera dhanda nahi hoga” I gave him a sales tip.

He refused to budge. He was looking through me. This time he spoke “ kaunsa film hai?” On the seat next to me, there was the CD cover of ‘Delhi 6’. I picked it up and showed him from behind the window “Padh Kya Lika hai”. There is an innovative mirror insert on the cover of the ‘Delhi 6’ CD, so he kept looking into it. I could see his amusement on seeing himself on it. I kept back the CD answering his question “Delhi 6 hai ye”. He didn’t get me, so I said in a language I thought he might understand “Dilli che hai movie ka naam”. “Dilli, who to shahar ka naam hai” he responded with a smile.

“Acha tujhe bada pata hai. Tu kahan se aaya hai” I asked. “Bihar” he spoke unclearly. “Arre, main bhi UP se hoon. Tu yahaan kaise aa gaya” I couldn’t believe I was talking to him. “Amma yahan kam karti hai, building ban raha hai na, wahan” . "Aur papa?" I didn’t know why I asked that. He just kept looking at me blankly. “Kitney saal ka hai tu?” I questioned him. He just kept moving his finger on the dust settled on my window, as if a kid drawing in his work book.

“Aath?” I asked. He smiled like he meant yes, but looked unsure. “Dus?” I questioned again. He gave me a bigger smile this time. I realized he didn’t know his age. Playfully I said “Tera birthday kab hai”. His eyes sparkled when he said “Happy Birthday” and then he went quiet.

“ Acha movie dekhta hai? Film?” I wanted to distract him. “Haan” he liked this topic. “Favourite hero kaun hai?” I wanted to know. “Shahrukh Khan” He said with a sparkle in his eyes. “Ohoo…mere baazigar, yeh bata ki movie kahan dekhta hai? Hall me”. “Showroom mein” and he pointed out to the fancy electronics store on the other side of the road.

I knew that the signal was going to turn green “Acha chal ek packet de de” I said. Wanted to pay him for his time I wasted. He gave me a paper cone. While I paid him a coin, I asked him “Kuch khaya subah se?”. “Nahi” he moved his head in disagreement. I gave him back the paper cone. “Yeh meri taraf se, yeh bechna mat, tu kha isko”. With a big smile he surprised me with a “thank you saab”. I could see the signal turn green. While the vehicles before me were preparing to move, I asked him the last question “Naam kya hai tera?”. “Sanju” he said and ran towards the pavement.

The next morning while waiting at the same signal, I was looking for Sanju. Wanted to see if he recognizes me and gives me any special attention.

I kept waiting but he didn’t turn up. Instead a eunuch came to my window. I wanted to ask her about Sanju. I pulled down my window and held a ten rupee note. She took the note and blessed me, while she was walking away, I asked her “who mungfali wala kahan hai, dikhayee nahi de raha”. “Who aaj nahi aaya saab” she informed me. I was thinking aloud “Aaj Sanju nahi aaya”. She turned back and asked me with an expression of surprise “tum usko jaante hai saab”. “Nahi Aise hi” I said. “Usko kal police pakad ke le gayi sir”. “What?” I exclaimed. “Usne kal chori kiya na saab, ek ladki ka mobile leke bhag raha tha toh police ne usko pakad liya”. The signal turned green.

Meeting Aamir Khan- Luck by chance

2009-02-08T00:48:00.000+05:30

This post has been selected by BlogAdda as one of the top posts for the week's 'Tangy Tuesday Picks'- link: http://blog.blogadda.com/2009/02/10/blogaddas-tangy-tuesday-picks-feb-10-09#more-338

There is a scene in “Luck by chance” where Konkana and Farhan are in a supermarket where there is ‘write a slogan and win a refrigerator’ contest on. While Farhan wants to fill the form, Konkana is quite cynical about such contests. They have a conversation about this before he fills the form, which loosely translated in English sounds like this-
Konkana sarcastically asks- “Do you think if I fill this form, there is a chance that I would win the fridge?”
To which Farhan responds-“I know that if you DO NOT fill the form, there is NO chance that you will ever win the fridge”
I watched “Luck by chance” on the night of 4th Feb and this particular dialogue lingered in my mind the whole night- and will always- whenever I encounter a similar situation of filling forms, writing captions, etc to participate in any contest or lucky draws.

I had an afternoon flight to Hyderabad on 5th (Thursday) and was scheduled to travel to couple of other places, returning to Bangalore only on Sunday.

I landed at the Hyderabad airport and was on the bus to the arrival terminal, when I switched on my phone to call up my wife. But before I could dial her number, the phone rang up. It was an unknown mobile number- I thought it was the driver who had come to pick me up. But a female voice greeted me. I suspected it to be one of those spam credit card/loan kind of marketing calls and didn’t pay half attention to it. It didn’t help that the signal was also poor. Her voice was cracking and I couldn’t make sense of anything that she said.

As I was stepping out of the bus I heard her say something like “he wants to meet you”.
I exclaimed “Who?” and then I added “may I know who is on the line?”
She started all over again “I am Aamir Khan’s assistant and I got your number off the blog. You are one of the short listed candidates that he would like to meet. How are you placed at 4.30 PM tomorrow? Can you come to IIM Bangalore campus?”

I was numb with excitement, all I could manage was “whattt…how…wow”
Taking a deep breath I pulled my self together “are you sure?” “ya” she said in a very matter of factly manner, “so can you make it?”.
“Yes, yes” I almost screamed as if the opportunity was slipping out of my hands “I mean, I am supposed to be travelling tomorrow, but I will cancel all of that. Ya…ya I will be there. Thank you so much. I can’t believe it”.
While she wanted to hang up, I foolishly let my suspicion out “I hope this is not a kind of prank call or something, because I am cancelling my travel and rescheduling my whole trip”.
“No. It is true and you can bring along a person with you. Only one” she said in a tone that you can add a smiling face to.

After this, I wanted to call the whole world to announce my luck. Didn’t know where to start. The first call was to Tanu, my wife. Before she could ask me “have you reached?” I mumbled out “We are meeting Aamir tomorrow?” “Stop kidding” she said. “No. God promise. Keep yourself free in the second half. I have to make couple of calls, I will call later…Yahoooo” I screamed like an excited kid

I walked out of the arrival gate with a spring in my step and in all my excitement missed out the cabbie who was standing with a board displaying my name on it.

For the next hour and half or so that I was in the cab, I was busy on the phone. The driver’s name was Ali and all this while I could see him intermittently glancing at me in his rear view mirror- especially each time I mentioned “Aamir Khan” in my phone conversations.
When finally his curiosity crossed the threshold, he asked me “Sir, are you talking about the cine star Aamir Khan?” “Yes” I replied proudly.
“But why does he want to meet you?” he asked me in an offensive way- like what has such a big star to do with a looser like you. “Just like that” I acted snotty.
“Sir, who apna bhi favourite hai. Apne Ghajini dekha kya? Ekdum mast acting kiya hai. Apna bhi salaam bolna usko” “Bilkul” I said thinking about how movies connect each one of us, across geographies, religions, languages and economic backgrounds.
I reached my hotel quite late that night. I was completely exhausted and had an early morning flight. Even a hot shower could not put me to sleep. Random thoughts about the upcoming meeting kept playing in my mind.

I wanted to revisit the place where it all started. So I switched on my laptop and logged on Aamir’s blog. I have been reading him since the beginning, but he is quite an infrequent blogger. Like with movies he posts after long gaps. Thankfully, unlike movies the gap between posts is just in months.

His last blog is titled ‘Thank You’ and was posted on 16th Jan. where he thanks the readers for liking Ghajini and credits the audiences for making it the biggest grosser of all times. He also apologises for writing after so long and tries to explain how busy he has been. Then he goes on to talk about his stay on the IIM Bangalore campus and how he enjoying it and finally getting some time to catch up on his sleep.
What was interesting and kind of news making stuff was what his closing lines said. I am quoting them as they appear on the blog-

“Would like to meet some of you who live here in Bangalore. So post me your contact details if you are up to it and I’ll try and work it out”

Almost instinctively I wrote a comment on the post- “Hi Aamir, Congrats for the success of Ghajini- though it is not one of my favourite Aamir Khan movies. I am glad you like 'India after Gandhi' and more so about the fact that you like to read on varied topics- its people like you who have redefined the way we look at actors. I would (and more importantly my wife) would love to meet up with you. If your schedule allows you, please do call me on xxxxxxx. All the best for your future endeavours”

There were some eight thousand five hundred plus comments on this post, thousands of them had people leaving behind their contact details and pleading Aamir to meet up with them.

I knew Aamir is an avid reader and has a keen interest in History. Next morning, I picked up‘The Life of Mahatma Gandhi’ by Louis Fischer from the Landmark bookstore at Hyderabad airport. On the first page I wrote this small note in my best possible hand writing- “Be the change, said Bapu. And you are one of the very few ‘change agents’ of our generation. Love and luck”

Aamir spent over an hour and half with us. Sporting a schoolboy-ish haircut, dressed in an ‘ed hardy’ kind of pink t-shirt and loose faded sky blue jeans he could easily pass of as one of the students of the institute.

The first thing he said was “yaar lets sit closer, these chairs are too far pull your chairs closer”- that really broke the ice.

As it was his last day of shoot in Bangalore, his in-laws were also there. He affectionately introduced them as “amma” and “appa” and ordered chairs for them as well.

One thing which I noticed about Aamir is his ability to connect with his fans. He made the whole setting so comfortable and casual.

We bombarded him with questions about three idiots, slumdog millionaire, rahman’s oscar nomination, movies that he is very proud of and not so proud of, fitness tips, about his stay on campus, his next directorial plans, upcoming movies, politics, his thoughts on a sequel to Andaz apna apna, his dream team to work on a movie, and many more.

Interestingly, he wanted to know our views on what worked for and what did not work for Mangal Pandey. While we were talking about Mangal Pandey, I got a feeling that he really felt for the movie and wanted it to work.

He also shared his interest in the epic tale of Mahabharata. We all got a taste of his perfectionism and importance he assigns to preparation and research when he said “A story of that scale would take at least five years for research and prep itself”, before he could finish, all of us unanimously screamed “Noooo… we want to see you at least once a year, please don’t deprive us of that”

I don’t think I can put down Aamir’s views on all these things, but what I want to tell is the fact that he was brutally straight and honest in his opinions. Not even once, during this whole session, did he mince his words or sounded guarded. He even jokingly asked us “I hope none of you is a journalist here. Yaar yeh sab kahin likhna mat. Hungama ho jayega”

All this while I was thinking about this parallel-y “How much has this industry changed. Five years ago could we even think of meeting our favourite superstars, let alone like this? Technology and blogging in particular have changed so much. What is more interesting is that the established stars like Aamir and Amitabh have embraced it so well. This is definitely the changing face of the Indian cinema, a new era and I am so lucky to be witnessing this first hand”

I got his autograph on Ishan’s flipbook. He read my quote on the book and gave me a modest smile.

Aamir has a very special way of making people feel important, for instance, when he asked us about our suggestions to improve his blog. He listened to each one of us so carefully, as if taking a mental note of all that we are saying. His genuine desire to make the platform more useful for us could be felt effortlessly.

It was a dream come true for a movie fanatic like me. While we were walking back to the main gate of the institution, it suddenly stuck to Tanu “Oh I forgot to ask him- among thousands of mails how did he choose to meet the ten of you? I am thinking what must have been the selection criteria or was it a kind of lucky draw”.

“I know the answer” I said, “How?” she was curios.

“Luck by chance” I believe.

To Nani, with love

2009-01-01T13:23:00.000+05:30

This is the last post of the year. 2008…what a year it has been. Let alone the news and events like nuclear deal, IPL, Olympics, polls, Obama, terrorism, recession, etc. Even at a personal level the year has been quite eventful.

Two life changing things happened to me this year and these involved the two most important people in my life.

In February, I got married to my college sweetheart after almost a year and half of convincing her parents- It had to be the most cherished moment of my life.

In October, my Ammumma (nani) passed away. She meant the world to me and it has been my biggest loss till date. Her departure has left this huge unfillable void in my life.

I met up with an old friend of mine in a coffee shop today, and during one of those mindless conversations- this came up. He casually asked me whom would I dedicate the passing year to. Probably he just said it as an uncaring comment and didn’t expect any answer for it.

But that just kept me thinking- till I finally wrote this blog.

Here it goes… If I had to dedicate this year – I would dedicate it to my nani.

Nani, I will tell you a secret today- as a kid I read a story once which said that God loves kids the most and because he can’t be there with each one of them all the time, he sends his favourite angels to take care of them as their nanis.

Its not that I believed in these fairy tales, but this one just seeped quietly into a corner of my mind and just stayed there.

How else can one explain the love and joy that you brought to our lives?

Nani, I remember that you were the only one who used to believe in the lame excuses that I used to make to avoid the school as a kid. You always tried your best to negotiate with ma on my behalf.

Your energy was infectious. We never needed an occasion to devour your ‘halwa’ or ‘kheer’, we just had to mention it and you would ever lovingly indulge us with your delicacies. You made it look so effortless that you put the younger lot to shame.

Let not people mistake you for a docile housewife. You are the most powerful and assertive women I have come across. You stood like a pillar with your husband, almost single handedly raising seven children, so that he could become one of the most successful lawyers in the state. I have heard the stories of how you would run the huge household with almost an iron fist- taking care of the huge joint family, the bungalow, the properties, the fields, dogs, cows, workers and the cars.

You were so well traveled and had so many stories to tell about so many cities that I suspect that I got the travel bug from you. From holidaying in Kodaikanal, to playing ‘ping pong’ in colonial Ooty, to helping your son settle in IISC Bangalore, to getting a major surgery done at AIIMS, to accompanying your husband on his trips to cities as distant as Mumbai, Chennai, Pune, Mysore, Roorkee and to god knows where all, you have seen it all.

I am told that, when it came to some of the most important personal and professional decisions, your husband trusted you the most for advice. Though you went to school only till fifth standard (I know how much you regretted it) your common sense was astounding.

How can I forget how you used to stay up with me all night in my eleventh hour preparations for board exams. You almost fell sick by the end of my exams. If it wasn’t for you- I would have never survived them.

As a kid, whenever I had to buy a toffee or chips or comics or anything that my parents didn’t approve of- I would always come to you for money. Tell me something, you kept the change in a knot on your ‘pallu’ only for me, right? Because you stopped doing it as I grew up. Oh how much I miss that knot nani… it almost opened up the doors to my happiness. I wish I had access to something like that even today.

You proved that modernity has nothing to do with age. From short skirts to love marriages, you had such liberal and progressive views on each one of them, that if I put them here, some fundamentalist party might raise a protest against you. For you, the terms like ‘generation gap’ were non existent. Your ability to look at things from our perspective made you so endearing. No wonder, all my friends bonded so well with you and instinctively called you ‘nani’. I must add that you had a charming effect on female friends of mine and I leveraged it to the maximum effect. Wink.

I remember you weren’t in your best health around my marriage time. While we were concerned about how you will travel to Jaipur, you were the cheerleader of the party. You packed your best clothes before any one of us and what a power packed performance you gave there. We had to restrain you from dancing in baraat but from the corner of my eye I could still see you doing a jig in the car.

On the night of the reception you were the first one to walk up the stage to get clicked with the couple (By the way nani, I framed that pic and it now adorns my living room). You were the most beautiful woman that night- and even Tanu would agree with me on this.

Nani, a night before you left us- you spoke to Tanu for good fifteen minutes (she misses complaining about me to you) while I was busy watching some stupid show on the TV. I thought I would finish that and talk to you in leisure… but that was the biggest mistake of my life.

If I could undo just one thing in my life…I would have spoken to you that night.

Random thoughts on Yuvvraaj

2008-12-05T10:01:00.000+05:30

Originally published on PassionForCinema.com

Link: http://passionforcinema.com/random-thoughts-on-yuvvraaj/

I’ve always found it a challenging task to transform a dramatic script into a spellbinding musical,
Though I’ve done this before with films like Karz, Meri Jung, Khalnayak and Taal…………..

……….Imagine a film where: Salman is a dreamy singer…
Katrina is a leading musician…
Zayed grooves to a chaotic disco sound…
Anil kapoor enjoys only classical music…

Imagine the symphony of sounds created by all these characters.
Now imagine my struggle to match my visuals to rahman’s
Mesmerizing sound and Gulzaar Saab’s magical lyrics…

This is Yuvvraaj.

Hope you enjoy it!
Subhash Ghai.

This personal note from Mr Ghai is the first thing that would greet you when you open the audio CD jacket of Yuvvraj.

Frankly speaking I even liked two or three tracks from the album.

I think Rahman’s music grows on you over a period of time and it peaks after you have seen the movie.

There were also special comments (on the CD cover) by Mr. Rahman and Gulzar Saab testifying Ghai’s genius in matching up the visuals to the music.

Testimonials from these two gurus convinced me to break my resolve of abstaining from all Subhash Gai movies post Kisna (actually Yaadien. I gave him a second chance with Kisna).

Finally, I saw this movie last night.

I read a quote somewhere which vaguely meant that the most dangerous stage in a creative person’s life is when he starts to copy himself.

There isn’t a better way to describe Ghai’s latest effort- why only the latest one- if you look at Mr. ghai’s impressive body work- right from Ram lakhan, Saudagar, Khalnayak, Trimurti, etc- and try to draw a common pattern among them- it isn’t difficult to decipher the common overriding formula.

All…ok…say most of his movies would have two central characters (often brothers) with conflicting ideologies- one has to be an idealist while the other a bit confused and mixed up. Throw in a widowed mother, raped sister or a murdered father to sensationalize the plot and villains with obvious streaks of quirkiness (BAD MAN).

In the end the good always wins over evil with a climax sequence involving a song and a fight that happens simultaneously.

Also, if you don’t doze off half way through the movie- you might see the showman himself in a blink and miss sequence doing his bit of clowning around.

Let me talk about Yuvvraaj- if not anything, the movie has at least made me aware of Hindi’s rising popularity in the western world. The Goras babble dialogues in Hindi as it was official language of Prague and Austria (that is where the movie was supposedly shot).

Now a bit about the cast-

What can I say about Salman Khan- bad is no bad when worse is expected.

All thanks to his past few misadventures, I have no expectations whatsoever from him- but so great is the man that- he manages to disappoint me even then. Almost like cricket commentators who change the stance with every ball, the actor (if I can call him that) takes it scene by scene- with utmost adherence to inconsistency in all departments- from looks, to mannerisms to even hair styles.

Zayed is next in the row- I can’t even use words like career worst for him because he doesn’t have one. Playing a role that might be the closest to his real life (he plays a rich spoilt kid) Zayed gives a whole new definition to the word “wooden”. With his hair expressing more than his face and the rest of the body put together- you helplessly laugh at the scenes where this guy is trying hard to weep.

Anil Kapoor and Boman Irani are perfect examples to of what a bad script can do to even talented actors. This has to Boman’s shallowest performance till date- he doesn’t look convinced of his role even for a minute and that shows so badly on the screen.

Yuvvraaj from now on will also hold the distinction for the most uninformed and insensitive portrayal of autism. I think the brief to Anil was simple- play a mix of Rani Mukhurjee in Black and Sridevi in Sadma and he does that to a T.

There is also Mithun da in there- but you can excuse him in the acting department because for most part of it- his wig was really obtrusive and overpowered his performance

Poor Kaif woman is lost somewhere between these stalwarts in a role that only demands her to look good and at times even confused. In many promotional interviews before the release Miss Kaif has talked at length about getting trained in playing a cello, so that the portrayal looks realistic- though the effort is commendable, the lady would do pretty well with a crash course in acting at Ghai’s film school.

Then there are the infamous villains- a mama ji in a wheelchair who plots evil but hides it under his religious get up- complete with rudraksha, tilak, etc

And a bhabi who is desperate to be aadhi- gharwali (symbolism- non existent blouses and vulgar perfume squirting in a public setting)

Ghai is known for his in film placements- but this time around I think a brand of potato chips had refused to put money in his film- so there is a fatso who is just shown munching chips all the time- a clever negative publicity for the brand.

Also, there are few insignificant negative characters whose job is to just fill the frame and add to the magnitude of evil (the more the people the badder the evil)

The art direction is so grandeur and in your face that it never lets you forget that you are watching a movie and that it doesn’t look like this in the real world.

The plot and script is so weak and fake that as an audience the only emotions you ever feel are that of indifference, anger and boredom.
The inconsistencies are so obvious that they leave you with a feeling of being cheated- that is when you were not expecting anything from this fare- Its as if the gang that put the show together is taking us on ride- completely disrespecting our intelligence, patience, time and money.

Last but not the least- the songs for which I saw the movie in the first place- were so out of context and meddlesome that I ended up forwarding each one of them- For the first time because of the movie and their place in it- I will completely give up on the music of this one.

I felt a sense of liberation when the movie ended (with Mithun’s words of wisdom “Independent you live, united you stay- that is a happy family”) - and the end credits (inspired by OSO) started rolling.

I just hope that Mr. Ghai is not taking too many classes on direction in Whistling woods, or we would have many Yuvvraajs in the years to come.

Oye Lucky Lucky Oye: Movie Review

2008-12-01T10:50:00.000+05:30

Originally published on PassionForCinema.com:

Link-http://passionforcinema.com/oye-lucky-lucky-oye-reviews-from-readers/

If there has been one film that I have been anticipating for the longest time- it has to be ‘Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye (OLLO)’. In fact I rate Khosla Ka Ghosla as the second best bollywood film I have seen in last five-six years (the first has to be ‘Maqbool’- but I will save it for another post).

What an impressive debut KKG was- it was heartening to see such a simple tale of underdogs- with characters etched out so well- that you almost feel that you know them from before. Indeed, by end of the movie, I knew the Khosla family so well that even in any other situation – I could imagine- exactly how they would react.

When you raise the bar so high- in your first movie itself, it’s quite a task to stand up to the huge expectations with a worthy follow up. While a few directors have done it successfully, many have disappointed us as well.

So did Dibakar disappoint me?

Not at all. Actually, I came out quite impressed from of the hall.

OLLO- is a brilliant second movie from a very talented director. What impressed me more is the fact that Dibakar has picked up a rather complex story this time as compared to simplistic one before. There are lots of layers in the story and there is an amazing sense of maturity that marks the narration.

A single story can have many interpretations, and what I am about to write is my take out from the movie- which. It is a very personalized account of how I comprehend the movie.
The movie follows the growth of Lucky from his teens to thirties and his journey from innocence to notoriety-all this with the back drop of Delhi (Guys lets accept it- nobody does Delhi better than Dibakar)

The initial scenes clearly establish Lucky’s strained relationship with his father and his uneasiness with the other woman in the house (father’s keep).

Also, it gives you a glimpse into Lucky’s world of aimless friends and their collective dreams and aspirations. Their fascination for good things in life (cars, chicks, etc) is obvious but what sets Lucky apart from his group is his self belief- and that is brilliantly captured in this one line Lucky keeps saying through out the film- “Kyon main kar nahi sakta?”

I also thought that his becoming a ‘Mona’ sardar symbolizes his giving up on social conformity.
Lucky is an incorrigible thief- it’s almost like he has a kind of compulsive disorder to steal- and sometimes through the things that he steals- you get a hint of his feelings at that point in time- his deprivation and loneliness-he steals a greeting card (reminiscing his first love), family photograph (His longing ness for a family), a king size teddy (the child within).
But the movie is not about stealing- it is about Lucky’s emotional vulnerability, his pining for love- the only thing he can’t steal. All the people who befriend him have a selfish motive (except his girlfriend, but again I am not sure- because there is a scene where she asks him to keep the money on the fridge). His father, surrogate father and the business partner (all three played brilliantly by Paresh Rawal) are the three fatherly figures who inflict him the maximum pain.

These are the few scenes which stand apart for me- teenage Lucky’s first encounter with a neighborhood girl in the greeting cards shop and subsequently their first date in a restaurant, Lucky asking Dolly what she wants to eat in a night club, his first date with Sonal and her reaction to school girls in short skirts, Dr. Handa’s insights on the male dog and the lady dog, the conversation between Sonal and Lucky’s bhabi.

There are some nice touches which were like master strokes- The kid sardar’s air fighting sequence when Luck’s father is chasing Lucky out of the house for demanding a new scooter, the hanging wires, air conditioners and the election posters in the background when Lucky is taking the girl on a motor bike ride, the zebra striped interiors of the black Mercedes that Lucky steals for Goga Bhai., Sonal’s pink cybershot, a shot of Lucky’s bare feet while he is escaping on a stolen Enfield from the police station.

I also quite liked the scene in which Lucky does these car stunts with Sonal- the muted closed ups worked very well for me.

All performances are good, but these guys deserve a special mention- the sardar who played Lucky’s childhood part, Lucky’s partner in crime- Bengali and Dolly.

Ofcourse Paresh Rawal is magnificent in all three avatars. Also, Neetu Chandra packs a poised performance and renders an understated composure to her character .

One guy who carries the film on his shoulders and deserves a standing ovation is Abhay Deol- the ease and subtlety with which he plays Lucky is mind blowing. I can’t stop myself from diverting from the topic here to have a look at the movies that Abhay has done so far- Socha Na Tha, Ek chaalis, Manorama Six feet under, Honeymoon travels and now OLLO (upcoming Dev D)- what a range- no wonder he has become the poster boy of the new age- popular- niche bollywood cinema.

The music is well researched and does a great job in enhancing the narrative- it perfectly compliments the mood of the movie.

It’s refreshing to see Delhi as a backdrop- with each of its locality having a distinctive character and how well Dibakar captures it.

Finally, what looks like a simple funny movie is work of a painstaking research and original thinking and I guess that’s the way forward for Indian cinema.

Coorg: Plantation Trails

2008-08-01T01:01:00.000+05:30

I was supposed to be in Istanbul for a marketing conference, but I couldn’t renew my passport within the stipulated time- so I was left alone in Bangalore while the rest of the team was sightseeing in a foreign land. However, I was adamant that even I should get out of the city- if not abroad then at least to a serene hill station. My consideration set comprised of Chikmagalur, Wayanad and Coorg (Written in the order of preference).

When I go on such weekend escapes I love to book myself into a home stay- unlike star hotels- home stays are not standardised, which makes them much more interesting, warm and personal. You can actually experience a slice of the local culture when you are putting up in such an arrangement. Right from the people you chat up with to the food you are served and even the way the house is done up, everything offers to you a piece of the location. In short, Home stays have a character to them which is so missing in most of the hotels.

I was keen on Chikmagalur and Wayanad, but couldn’t manage to get a booking in any of the places where I wanted to stay. I had been to Coorg some three years ago and to put it frankly- I didn’t like it much. I thought that the whole thing about it being the Scotland of India was a bit over hyped.

I remember- in my last trip I landed up there without any prior planning and that it was a peak season for tourists didn’t help. We were lucky enough to get a decent place to stay (Home of a retired army official) but the places we went see were the typical tourist attractions.

That is not my idea of a vacation. I hunt hard to find locations which are like unseen and unspoiled by tourist hordes. I romanticise the idea of cutting off from the civilisation and love staying at places, which if I may say so, at least appear to be virgin and undiscovered.

Coming back to this trip, after hours of googling “homestays in Coorg”- I landed up on this link called ‘Plantation Trails’ which are Tata coffee’s holiday homes in Coorg. Frankly speaking, I didn’t even know that Tata had something like holiday homes. I even liked the idea that this was not listed on the first few pages of my search results (on Google). So I safely assumed that this was definitely not one of those most common places for tourists to stay.

The details of the property like location, facilities, tariffs and bookings are well detailed on the Tata coffee’s site and were quite useful in getting a sense of the place. When I called up their Bangalore coordinate, he told me that the accommodation was only available in Glenlorna tea estate which is near Hudikeri- some 27 kilometres ahead of their flagship property- the coffee estate in Pollibetta. Incidentally, Glenlorna is the only tea estate in the coffee country of Coorg.

Luckily I got a special monsoon package which offered twenty percent discount and complimentary dinner. As breakfast was already a part of the package I just had to pay for my lunch and snacks above the cost of the room.

The bungalow at the estate is on a hillock and offers a bird’s eye view of the lush plantation. It has five rooms in total and we booked luxury rooms which were particularly large and come fitted with air conditioners (Though I wonder who uses them) and geysers for hot water (Now that’s a must). The rooms are tastefully done and are mostly occupied with dark wood furniture that lends a strong colonial character to the place, also, they are well coordinated with fab India-ish bed covers, table cloths and floor mats. I have also been made to understand that most of these plantation trails bungalows are former homes of estate managers which have been done up by their wives.

There is a common dining room where breakfast, lunch and dinner is served to all the guests staying in the estate- though you can order tea and snacks to your room. There is also a television with a Tata Sky connection in the living room. The best part of the bungalow is the front porch which offers the most beautiful view of the tea plantation. I spent the most part of my trip here- in the front porch- cuddled in a warm blanket, sunk in a comfy cane chair with my legs stretched and resting on a low lying table and sipping liters of piping hot ginger tea and devouring on dozens of onion pakoras- all this while watching rain.

It almost rained continuously through out our stay but that just added to the thrill of the vacation. I can’t remember any other time in my life when I just watched rains like that and enjoyed them so much. To say it was romantic would be an understatement. The purposeless of that moment was so fascinating and in a strange way extremely rejuvenating. We went for a long walk to the river that flows through the property and morning jogs along the hills. Umbrellas were our constant companions and again I don’t remember when I used one before.

They can also organise a visit to the tea factory and a guided tour of the coffee and tea plantations if you want, but we opted out of such guided tours and enjoyed our own excursions in and around the plantations.

The staff is extremely courteous, helpful and hospitable. The meals were elaborate and delicious and the fact that you can get such food in such an isolated location is incredible.

The other guests who had bookings and were supposed to arrive had last minute cancellations and that came as blessing in disguise for us as we had the whole bungalow all for ourselves.

I strongly recommend this place to anyone who is planning a trip to Coorg and you better make it soon for they might lease this bungalow to one of the corporates pretty soon and might not entertain the regular guests then.

Also, I heard they are inaugurating a similar property in Chikmagalur sometime towards the mid of August. I am sure I will be one of their first guests. See you there.

PS: You can see the pictures of the trip by clicking the Coorg widget on the right side of your screen.

2008-07-21T17:06:00.001+05:30

Some Mr. Singh

2008-07-18T16:23:00.000+05:30

Most Saturdays we went out for a team lunch. But that was a different Saturday. All my teammates had their own plans and went their own ways. As I was the only one without any agenda, I had to decide on how to feed myself. Bangalore Central was at a walk able distance from my office and the food court there served a decent north Indian meal so I decided have my lunch there.

For a Saturday afternoon, the place was sparsely crowded. I was on the escalator when this ‘sardar ji’ who was two steps ahead of me turned back and said ‘hi’ to me. For a second I thought he was addressing some one behind me, but a quick glance proved me wrong. We were the only two on the escalator. I returned a ‘hi’ to him. “I can see very few people here, is it generally like this” he said. “No today is an exception. Otherwise it’s quite full over the weekends” I replied effortlessly.

As the food court is on the top floor, you need to take a succession of escalators to reach there. As we arrived at the first floor, he asked “which floor is the food court?”
“It’s on the top floor. Even I am going there. Come” I said.
“How long have you been in Bangalore?” he wanted to know “I have been here for a while. What about you?” I answered with a question.
“I moved last month only. I moved from Delhi to start my business here. Still settling down” he revealed.

Both of us collected our Punjabi thali and settled down in our chairs. Just when I was about to take my first bite, he interrupted “are you married? I didn’t know why he wanted to know that, nevertheless I said “No”. “Are you in a relationship”- he was curious. Now that was getting too personal. I gave it a skip and kept looking into my plate. But he was not to give up easily. He repeated the question and he was louder this time. “Ya. I have a girlfriend” I retorted. But that didn’t stop him and he was up with his next question “When are you getting married?”
“I don’t know” I said in a disinterested tone. But he continued further “You know I have a son. He would be turning one next Saturday. I am planning to throw a party though I don’t know many people here. But I will definitely invite you. You have to come”

I didn’t know how to react to this. Here I am meeting this guy for the first time and he is asking me to be a part of what might be one of the biggest celebrations of his life. I was amused but a little cautious as well.

We almost finished our lunch when he dug out a business card from his wallet. As he handed it over to me, he anticipated my reciprocation. “I am sorry I ran out of my cards” I said apologetically. “That’s ok. I will save your number. Tell me your number; I will give you a missed call”. May be we were destined to meet I thought but by any standard this was too fast. However I didn’t save the number.

It struck to me on my way back to office that I forgot to ask his name. In fact even he didn’t know my name. I was wondering with what name did he save my number though. It occurred to me that he did give me his card. The card had ‘Singh & Singh Sons Ltd’ Written in bold font. Then there was his mobile number and a generic email id which was info@ name of his company.com. Conspicuously his name was missing. I smiled as I referred to him as ‘Some Mr. Singh’ in my mind.

He called me on the next Friday. I disappointed him by not recognizing his number “I think you haven’t saved my number. I met you in Central last week. You remember?” I lied spontaneously “Sorry I changed my handset and haven’t transferred my contacts to this one yet” “Its Ok. I called you to invite you to my son’s first birthday party. Note down my address, you have to be there”
I pretended to take a note of his address, but I always knew that I wouldn’t go. It just didn’t seem reasonable to me- meeting someone just once in a mall and landing up at his place for a party. May be I have outgrown that stage.

It’s a pity; I forgot to ask him his name even this time around.

I completely forgot about the whole incident till I chanced upon his business card some six months later. I was getting married in a month’s time and was preparing the guest list to send the invites. I was cross checking my business cards folder to see if I have left someone. This card suddenly appeared there. I don’t know why but I felt like including him on the guest list.

Anyhow I was getting married in Jaipur and it was highly unlikely that he would come all the way for me, but at least, I would have returned his favor of inviting me to his son’s birthday. I tried calling the number given on the card but a female voice kept reminding me in three different languages that the number didn’t exist.

I mailed a scan of my card to his email (info@ name of hiscomoany.com) addressing it to Mr. Singh & family and thought my job was done.

I got extremely busy with the preparations and didn’t realize how quickly the time had passed. It was my engagement night when a beautiful bouquet of red roses was delivered to me in my hotel room. The delivery person wasn’t helpful in establishing who had sent it, all he said was “sir, yeh Bangalore se aaya hai”. I assumed it was from my office. There was this note with the flowers which I opened without much thought.

It said “Wish you a very happy married life. My husband would have loved to be there, but I guess God needed him much more in heaven- Mrs. Singh”

2008-06-11T11:10:00.001+05:30

Sarkar Raj: movie review

2008-06-09T17:54:00.000+05:30

I went to watch Sarkar Raj yesterday evening. As I took my place, I saw this small kid sleeping in the seat next to me. Though my wife found him extremely cute I wasn’t amused. Kids can be quite disruptive in settings like this. I take my movies quite seriously and like to watch them with undivided attention. Nonetheless I was glad that at least he was sleeping and wished that he slept peacefully till the movie was over.

I am a huge of Ramu and even the disastrous ‘RGV ki Aag’ didn’t discourage me to change my loyalty for him. Of course, who doesn’t have a bad day at work and historically too, amid the duds like Daud, Mast, Naach and Darling he has given gems like Shiva, Rangeela, Satya, Company and Sarkar. Also, some of the finest actors, directors, scriptwriters and composers got their first big breaks because of him- Manoj Bajpai, Jaideep Sahni, Anurag Kashyap and Madhur Bhandarkar are suitable examples.

I had huge expectations from Sarkar Raj. I thought this would be his chance to redeem from the misery of ‘Aag’. But in all honesty- I am quite disappointed, and I have valid reasons to be.

To start with- the characterisation, especially of some of the negative characters is extremely caricaturish. You have an over reacting Sayaji Shinde who painfully overdoes everything from his dialogue deliveries to basic mannerisms of eating, walking and talking. This definitely would qualify as one of his career worst performances.

Then there is another bad character- Mr. Vora - who insists on the correct pronunciation of his name- and erratically hums old hindi songs. This guy brought back the memories of Sadashiv Amrapurkar era of villainhood and believe me you can’t get worse than that.

But my award for the best of the worst goes to this contract killer they hire for killing Abhishek. He is supremely intriguing and expresses everything through a judicious movement of his hand…or leather gloves (to be more specific) and the dialogues between this handyman and his employers (Sayaji and Vora) are to be seen (and heard) to be believed. Guys this is dramatic even by the cinematic standards.

Talking about Ash, I couldn’t quite understand her position throughout the movie. In her introductory scene, she explicitly expresses her disregard for the word ‘impossible’ and comes across as no- nonsense business woman with an exclusive focus on getting the project through. But her stance becomes utterly contradicting and confusing as the movie progresses.

The relevance of place is completely exempted for this woman (one moment she is in London, the next moment in Mumbai or Thakerwadi) and she is privileged to be a part of the confidential meetings of Nagres’ where she has nothing to do whatsoever- like the scene where Shankar is trying to figure out the killers of his wife and sacks Chander.

Abhishek Bachan carries a solo serious expression through out the movie and sounds preachy for the most part of it. Calling themselves the crusaders of positive change, the father-son duo try to outdo each other in profundity by uttering pretentious and theatrical dialogues to each other.

The scene in the Hospital between the father and the son (where Shankar is fighting death) and the scene where Nagre senior informs Ash about killing her father- are particularly funny and worth special mention.

Also, the scene where Shankar goes to nab Qazi is exaggerated even if you account for the cinematic liberties that a director can avail for.

Talking about the camera work- Ramu’s romance with the close-ups, unusual camera angles and his play with light have become monotonous and seem to make the film lengthy than it actually is. I have noted that he also has a fascination to focus on cups and saucers and should probably ask Lipton to sponsor his next film.

The background score is irritating to say the least and overpowers the narrative. The kid (next to me) woke up to the ‘Govinda Govinda’ tune like a bad dream and hence kept asking his popcorn digging mother “mamma, yeh kab khatam hoga?”

Everytime the mother said “beta, ab khatam hone wala hai”, more than the kid, I had a sigh of relief thinking that the torture is at last coming to an end.

In a scene Amitabh tells his son- “Beta, yeh tum par nahi, tumhare soch par hamla hai”. This is what Ramu should be saying to his viewers.

Ramu, dude wake up and smell the coffee. If you don’t want to go to film school, at least revisit your own work like Satya nd Shiva to come up with something better next time.

Goodbye VF

2008-06-04T14:00:00.000+05:30

Saturday, May 31st. My last day at Arvind. After finishing all the exit formalities I was left with the last job here- writing a farewell letter to my team. Honestly I am quite bad at these things, so, I decided to take help of the man’s greatest invention- Google. I started my search with the keywords “sample farewell letter”.

While I was trying my best to mix and match couple of search results and come up with an original version- Sambit- who sits next to me caught me red handed. He has this gift of peeping into others monitors on all wrong occasions. Completely unashamed of trespassing into my privacy, his comment was acidic- “kam se kam yeh toh khud likh liya hota. I will mail the source of this letter to the entire team”. There is no point in reasoning with him, I thought. He was looking for a final session of ‘time-pass’ with me.

I started missing my ‘gang’ even before I walked out of the office. That’s when I thought, perhaps, I should bid a more personalised goodbye to my friends. So, here it goes-

These are the people who made my stay worthwhile in this office. Each one of them is an ‘original’ in their own sense and I doubt if I would ever meet such an extraordinarily abnormal mix of people under one roof.

I will miss each one of you-

Sambit- he is born ‘funny’. Like some people have answers for everything- this guy has questions for everything. Youngest member of the team, he provides a comic relief even in the most terrible situations. His discussions with Kamal, Tiwary and Ashok are always animated, pointless but nonetheless absolute fun. Behind all his naivety, he is a very quick learner, a caring boyfriend (Is Anu reading this?) and overall a very interesting human being.

Kamal- A self assumed union leader of the mass brands, he is also the in-house ‘sexologist’- capable of correlating your coffee drinking habits to your sexual performance. He is ‘tej (faster)' than ‘aaj tak’ in bringing us all the office gossip. His ability to come to conclusions without any supporting information can irritate and surprise you at the same time (He concluded that Sambit didn’t have a girlfriend because he doesn’t get phone calls every five minutes. That’s just a sample of how far fetched his logic can be). An action oriented man- ‘abhi (Now)’ is his most commonly used word. Above all this he is an absolutely doting father and undisputed king of sourcing…knits- that is.

Sandip- A true representative of the Bengali clan, he is a man of varied interests (movies, chess, photography, politics, music and literature to name a few). Speaks English with a Bengali accent and even his swear words sound as sweet as 'rosogulla'. Has an opinion on everything under the sun. He loves to disagree with you and needs half an excuse to jump into a debate.

‘Sutta (smoke)’ sessions with him are always intellectually stimulating. Most of his conversations would have a mention of his previous companies or his beloved wife. More importantly- this guy has not lost that childlike innocence and his passion for life. A no nonsense guy, he is exceptionally street smart and will go places.

Abhilasha- an excellent designer and a complete tomboy. Has a strong streak of adventure in her (scuba diving in Andaman). Has an amazing mind-though she selectively puts it to any constructive use. The most sorted out person in the team- I admire her honesty and frankness. Addicted to word games on the net she has the ability to connect and put you at ease irrespective of whether you are having a meaningful or a needless conversation. Keep spreading that happiness.

Ismail- He has that streak of eccentricity that you always associate with creative people. Seeks perfection in his work and looses temper on the slightest provocation. On many occasions he has stunned me with his ability to work so hard over long periods of time. There is certain rawness in him which is exhilarating. Beware of him if he is in a bad mood. I am sure very soon he would make it to the big league.

Priya: This art of living student is the hardest working amongst the lot and mostly you would spot her staring at complicated excel sheets. One moment she has that teacher like disciplinary look and the other moment she has that motherly effect when you want to pour your heart out to her. Has an air of maturity around her and I admire the grace with which she handled some of the most difficult personal and professional situations. More strength to you.

Guys, they say you should love your work and not the workplace. But because of you all I loved the workplace much more than the work :)

Big thanks to each one of you for making this journey so special. It’s a life lasting friendship that I carry from here.

God bless.

Bandipur National Park

2008-05-18T17:28:00.000+05:30

To view the complete album- click on the 'Bandipur National Park: a photoblog' icon (on the top right hand side).

Weekend escape from Bangalore: Destiny Farmstay

2008-04-16T23:41:00.000+05:30

Photos: 5-8

2008-04-16T23:33:00.000+05:30

Photos: 9-12

2008-04-16T23:28:00.000+05:30

What's in a name?

2008-03-23T15:38:00.000+05:30

My grandfather gave me my name (Isn’t that a good enough reason- why it sounds so antique?) and I inherited the surname (Parvatam) by default. So I was branded ‘Parvatam Gurudev Prasad’.

I suspected my grandfather’s religious (in)sensibilities for this misdeed, but there is this logical explanation that my mother subscribes to whenever any discussion about my name takes place, which I think it is just a cover up for my grand father’s sin. Nonetheless, I should tell you what she says- “You were born after so many complications. The doctors actually said that the chances of your survival were very bleak. We prayed a lot and it was only by God’s grace that you were born normal. You were a God’s gift, so we named you the same- Gurudev (God) Prasad (His gift/blessing).”

There are couple of things which are fundamentally wrong with my name. It is lengthy, pompous (Proclaiming yourself to be God’s gift to the mankind), then the surname Parvatam- is a mountain in literal sense- which again is a complete misnomer if you take into consideration the average body size of my family. To some extent my name is even confusing (For most of it- it sounds north Indian, but there are traces of south-Indianness too- yes, the Parvatam bit again).

Adding to the problem was the fact that I grew up in places like Agra and Aligarh, which were quite difficult for people with such nomenclature abnormalities- in the sense, they predominantly have kids with simple names (Like Saurabh, Rahul, etc) and even simpler surnames (Like Sharma, Verma, etc).

To shorten it and avoid the north-south confusion, as a child, I insisted that I should be addressed as ‘P. Gurudev Prasad’. Just when I thought that this would make things simpler, the story took a strange turn. For my classmates, I became a guy with a mysterious ‘P’. And curse my bad luck, that this is the only alphabet that has funny implications in both English (Pee Gurudev Prasad) and Hindi (Drink Gurudev Prasad).

In school, I would always fear new teachers taking our attendance call. They needed some time to acclimatise to a strange name like mine. The first roll call was always a concern. The teacher would sink her head in the register and indifferently read out names, without even bothering to look at their respective owners. But as soon as my turn came, it was almost like a speed breaker to this mechanical process. Often they would mispronounce it (I don’t remember any teacher who got it right the first time) and would wonder if they have stumbled upon something alien. Invariably I was asked to stand up, so that they could look at me with a sense of amusement combined with a stroke of sympathy and order me to announce my name aloud.

This whole process was extremely embarrassing for me and somehow made me feel like an odd man out.

In between, I would automatically take liking to someone who took attendance by the roll numbers and not by names. I was thankful to the person who invented roll numbers and seriously thought that their purpose was to avoid such embarrassments.

My name even had some functional issues- to start with it took me a while before I could learn how to write my full name, also I remember it took me ages to fill in my name in the OMR sheet for the Common Admission Test (CAT). Similarly some application forms would run out of space in accommodating my full name, particularly the ones that have limited blocks assigned for each personal detail- which have to be filled in capital letters.

I think India is one of the lucky countries where kids have pet names and I can be only grateful for that. As I was born early morning (To be precise I came in with the sunrise) my aunt wanted to christen me as ‘Udai’, but, as she didn’t have the authority to endorse this as my official name, she settled for ‘Udai’ as my pet name.

So people who didn’t share any organizational (School, college or office) relationship with me- just know me as ‘Udai’. But this led to certain dichotomy which was revealed only last month. When I sent my wedding card (It had my ‘original’ name printed on it) to a childhood friend who used to be my neighbour, he anxiously called me to check the reason for my name change.

Different names evoke different emotions and associations. For example, a Radha would evoke a totally different set of images from a Rosa (Naughty You!). Similarly, I am sure that, for a stranger, ‘Parvatam Gurudev Prasad’ would bring to mind certain personality connotations. But, I am also sure that these preliminary associations would be in total contrast to the real ‘Parvatam Gurudev Prasad’. It is up to you to decide- which is a greater disappointment- the initial associations or the actual ‘me’.

But things changed after I joined college. I had this faculty who taught us Branding. One day when I went to submit my assignment to his cabin, he looked at the cover page and said “Your name is very impressive”. Someone said something like that for the first time to me. In that moment of vulnerability I confessed to him “It has always embarrassed me”. He asked me to take a seat. As I sat down, in his typical classroom style he began to explain me. The best part is that he didn’t make it sound sympathetic. In fact, it was more like one of his sessions on branding.

He said “Guru, I have practised branding for many years before I retired and got into teaching. Do you know what I have learnt in all these years? The name is the most important thing in building a brand. It should give the brand an identity and differentiate it from others. It is like this one word advertisement for a brand… and the same applies to humans as well. In your case, it is one of those few names, that I have come across which have certain character to them. There is a promise in your name that you will do something big. Rather than being embarrassed about it- try and live up to it. Build a brand- Gurudev Prasad.” He continued, “On a lighter note I would rather imagine a name like Gurudev Prasad to be doing something substantial than names like Ricky and Monty.”

His words had a magical impact on me. Trying hard to control my tears, I tried thanking him; I said, “I just wish I had someone who could explain this to me when I was a child. Sir, you might not realize but what you said will have a life changing impact on me. I don’t want to thank you and minuscule your advice.”
I ran to the playground and screamed out my full name in the loudest way possible

Few years ago, I was travelling to a remote part of the country for some official work. I was the only one representing my creative agency and there was a team of six from another agency who were working on the same client. All these guys were much elder and quite non cooperative to me. The eldest of them was also their head. His name was some Mr. Chadda.

May be because I belonged to a competing agency, the entire gang didn’t seem to be very fond of me. Leading the pack was Mr. Chadda. He assumed that he had a terrific sense of humour and his team approved his misconception by laughing at all his stupid jokes.

On more than one occasions, I became the butt of his jokes. Respecting his age, I took it sportingly. One night, at the dinner table, he tried to pull my leg again. I was lost in my food, when he said “Guru…It must have been quite difficult growing up with that name? Isn’t it? I am sure you would have been teased a lot in your childhood? I know how it is like growing up in UP.” I swear I wanted to let it go, but something came over me. I replied back “Not at all. On the contrary I am quite proud of my name. I absolutely love it. Talking about teasing, I think that can happen to any name. If you were in my school, I would have nicknamed you as Mr. Chaddi.” His team burst out laughing before realizing that the joke is on their boss this time. Mr. Chadda got back to his food.

Next day we had a presentation of our findings to the top management of the client side. Both Mr. Chadda and I were to present. Mr. Chadda insisted that I should go first. May be he expected me to falter. He was sure that a kid like me would never be able to match up with the work of a team of six seasoned professionals like his.

As I finished my final slide, the top boss from the client side gave his feedback- “Gurudev, you have stood up to your name.”

Now it was Mr. Chadda’s turn to prove.

And that's how it all began...

2008-02-09T16:40:00.000+05:30

Part I:

I first met Tanuja in a remote village in Ahmedabad (That’s where my college was). She was specializing in Public Relations and her batch commenced few months after mine, so technically she was my junior. She was surprisingly inconspicuous through out the ragging session. I don’t even remember seeing her in the freshers party (Though she is there in the party pictures). So In real sense, I met her for the first time in the college canteen (we had the most amazing open air canteen). It was around ten at night and I was waiting for my maggi, when she walked in with a friend of mine.

We didn’t even exchange Hi’s and she decided to sit two chairs away from me. The first thing I noticed about her was ‘Pink’- dressed in a pink Capri and a pink jacket and a complexion matching the same colour, her fetish for pink was quite evident (To be frank, I found her quite cute). I was the one who initiated the dialogue- “I didn’t see you all this while? Did you join late?”

I remember my question, but I don’t remember her answer, may be she didn’t answer at all. I am not the kind who gives up easily- “where are you from?” I asked. “Jaipur” she said and as a customary she asked “and you?” That was it. Whenever someone asks me about my origins, I almost transform into a History Channel- educating them about where I was born to all the places that I have stayed at and finishing with a list of my favourite cities. But just when I was about to begin my journey “I am from Agra, but you know…” she interrupted “Oh. I have been to Agra many times. I like that city”. Then what, if someone likes my city, I like them. It’s a weird logic, but then I never said I am normal.

We moved from acquaintance to friendship swiftly.We were not best friends but whenever we had conversations, they were meaningful and warm. There was some honesty in it which is indescribable. Once in a while, we used to chat up on messenger and even go out for after-dinner strolls. She was finding it difficult to adjust in this new environment for more than one reason- she came straight out of an engineering college (the new place was somewhat a culture shock) and was missing her old friends desperately, also, she was anxious about her performance in subjects (which were non- technical in nature) like Economics and Accounting.

To comfort her I advised her two things “Tanu (that’s when I called her ‘Tanu’ first time) you either live in the past or you are worried about the future. Start living in the present and enjoy this phase. Things would look much better. And as far as subjects like Economics are concerned we are all there to help you. You would not believe but I am good at economics, if you need any help in understanding any concepts you can always come to me”.

She didn’t take my first suggestion seriously (she is still in past or future) but she took the economics part too seriously (I was never good at economics, why economics, I was never good at anything that has to do with academics). Next evening, on the messenger chat, she invited me to her room. She looked disillusioned and the books were spread everywhere. She had to submit an assignment (Yes. Economics) next morning and needed my help. I was caught and my truth was busted. I made a fool out of myself trying to explain her some theories which were Greek and Latin to me. She figured out my uneasiness and in the most polite way said “you know, you emphasise on making the basics clear and then looking at the solutions…that’s a good approach of teaching, but I need to submit this tomorrow… and …so…I will ask my classmates… and… umm…probably take proper lessons from you sometime” . I was relieved and promised to self that I would never again discuss economics with a girl.

I remember a summer afternoon, when the whole group was going for a movie, I saw Tanu wearing a black cap. For the clothes she was wearing, the cap was a total mismatch. I started pulling her leg, trying my best to make her remove the cap. She smiled at my remarks but refused to remove it.

Finally getting impatient, I said “Ok mam, I lost. What is so special about this cap that you don’t want to take it off. I am telling you it’s looking funny with your dress”. She smiled and said “this is my elder brother’s cap. I lost him few years back, when I am missing him- I wear this” I felt like a bloody fool. My foolishness was too monumental to even make an apology. I just felt like hugging her. She was much more mature that me.

On the last day of my college, I exchanged a host of hugs from my batch mates and juniors, but Tanu was missing from the scene. Even her phone was not reachable. As I was moving out of the campus in an auto crowed with my luggage, I saw her walking out of the admin section. I shouted her name and the auto came to a halt.

She came running to me and held my hand, I wanted to step out but there was this huge bag on my thighs. I said “I am leaving, but you stay in touch and be a good girl. I will miss you”. She squeezed my hand and looked much hassled; she said “All the best. You know my internship is starting in fifteen days and I have just got an offer from Bangalore. But I am looking at opportunities in Delhi so that I could be closer to home” Immediately I pleaded “Come to Bangalore na. I am also going there for the first time. I will give you a good company” She smiled generously and just to console me, she said “Pakka. Now you take care”. That’s how we parted.

Part II:

Three days after I joined my new job, Tanu came to Bangalore for her internship. Coincidentally she took a PG closer to my home. As I had just moved in, she helped me set up my house. So the first few evenings, daily after the office, we used to spend time (in a café) making lists of household items (like dustbins, mattresses, brooms, utensils, salt, turmeric, ghee, phenyl, Harpick, soaps, shampoos and hundred other things that make a home) and then scouting for them.

In a supermarket we used attack separate sections and in a pre-planned manner meet every five minutes to discuss what we had found and what was missing, finally returning home everyday with dozens of bloated, identical white plastic bags. I never enjoyed shopping (for anything) so much ever.

Once we accomplished the task of setting up the place, we had dinner mostly at my place. Sick of feeding on insipid sandwiches, idlis, dosas, vadas and noodles churned out by identical ‘Sagar’ joints in the city, home made food was an indulgence. Even a simple ‘daal chawal’ would bring us so much happiness and we would spice it up with hours of pointless discussions.

Tanu became my best friend in Bangalore. With her I could be myself and more importantly in her company even the most basic and the monotonous ‘chores’ seemed so very interesting. On many weekends, we would be together, doing our own different things like she working on her presentation and I finishing my novel, hardly a spoken word, but I still cherished that feeling of togetherness.

After dinner, everyday I used to walk her to her PG. On one such walk we started discussing our idea of an ideal life partner. It was Tanu’s turn first and she started with ‘tall’ and described him in a choice of adjectives which conveyed that she wanted someone who is exactly opposite of me. Don’t know why but for the first time I felt bad about what she said. It was my turn then, my heart wanted to say that my idea of a perfect woman is her, but my ego intervened and I sketched out a fictional character.

Two days before her internship got over, it was her birthday. She threw a dinner party for all her friends. I was confused what to gift her. In a toy shop near my house, I had seen a stuffed hippo. It was red in colour, bulky, disproportionate, overweight, and ugly, but there was something very cute about him, which had amused me when I saw him for the fist time.

I picked him up on my way to the party. It was impossible to gift wrap this creature. So I tugged him under my arm. People on the way and even in the restaurant gave me curious looks. But it was worth all the effort. Tanu loved the gift. She made him sit in her lap gave him more attention than any other guest. In a strange way, this made me feel so special.

On the day of her departure, I went to the station to see her off. The fact that she was leaving did not sink in still. Only when the mike announced the departure and the train howled, did I realise that this was real.

She was going away from me and I didn’t know when I would see her next. I hugged her tightly, like I was refusing her to let go and I whispered “I love you”. She repeated the same three words for me. The train started moving and she kept waving to me till I could see her no more.

Canara Bank: new identity

2008-01-19T03:21:00.000+05:30

Together can we?

My association with Canara Bank started 25 years ago (I am 26 now). A year after my birth, my dad got a job with Canara Bank. It was a big deal getting into banks those days, and I am pretty sure that he was almost as happy with the new job offer as he was with my birth.

He was a committed employee (retired recently) and was awarded a transfer every three years. Today I have friends in places like Kakinada (costal town in AP), Vijaywada, Hyderabad, Agra and Aligarh because of his postings in these cities.

As a child, for many years, this was the only business entity that I was aware of and idolised it as the best bank in the world.

Eighties was an interesting time to take birth in India. I have seen our economy literally opening its doors to the world. Customer became the king and choice became his prerogative.

Like many other sectors, this was true for banking too. With foreign banks coming in and few financial institutions (Like ICICI and HDFC) entering into retail banking, the dominance of the nationalized banks was challenged. These new entrants brought with them the power of technology which changed the way we Indians did banking and other monetary transactions (ATM, phone banking, online banking and what not).

When for the first time, my education separated me from my parents; there was a need for me to have a bank account to make possible fund transfers. I remember how upset my father was when I cheated on his bank and opted to have an ICICI account. Finding it hard to conceal his anguish he warned me- “these private banks rob you with hundred hidden charges. These people are fooling young people like you”. I was adamant, “but papa, your bank hardly has any ATMs. ICICI has one in each lane. Let me take it na, it would be much easier”. Like always, poor guy relented.

My dad was very happy when I got my first job (campus placement); more so because the company banked with Canara Bank and by default our salaries got credited there. He didn’t know much about the company but the fact that it had an account in Canara Bank was a reassurance for him that the organization is credible.

On the other hand my experiences as a Canara Bank customer range from just mediocre to terrible. The bank (I have visited a couple of their branches) looks uninviting and the employees look completely disinterested (They are men (or women) of few words and reply to your queries mostly in monosyllables). The ATMs are in minority and at mysterious locations; moreover, they are extremely moody (Hardly work. Actually I remember an instance when the ATM got so pissed with the customer before me that it ate the card and refused to spit it out).

I wanted to avail a personal loan but their eligibility criteria can only befit a person who will never need a personal loan. I have deposited an outstation cheque some two months back but the funds are still pending and unlike a private bank you don’t even have a customer care executive whom you can harass on phone.

Not to forget, I am still trying to find someone who does online banking with Canara Bank (Online and Canara, they simply don’t go together)

If you ask me where these banks have gone wrong- my answer would be- they failed to identify the emergence of youth as the new age wealth creators or probably they underestimated the earning and the buying power of this evolved consumer who doesn’t preach saving.

But private banks were smart enough to align themselves to the needs of these youngsters. They recruited young people and made all attempts to come to you than you going to them. Technology made it possible for them to do so and in true sense they were able to give a retail dimension to this industry.

So if you look at it, the average customer and an employee of these private banks would be much younger than the average employee or the customer of a nationalized bank. But how long could they (likes of Canara Bank) ignore us, also the fact that we are great influencers on our parents (and elders) and they are making an effort to adopt our way of doing things, now- even they are giving these private banks a chance.

I was pleasantly surprised when my dad said- “Give me your ICICI account number; I will transfer funds online from my ICICI account. It’s quite simple”.

So you see SBI painting the city with a campaign alluring the youth, then you see a Bank of Baroda and then you see a Canara Bank, all fighting for our attention. They seem to have woken up from their long slumber, making tall claims that they are changing for us.

But a simple logo change will not do much, it’s only when you deliver a consistent experience at all the customer touch points, that we would be with you.

Till then we will regard this (logo change) only as an announcement that you have decided to undertake a series of steps to make banking with you, easier for us.

Dad, I am watching your bank.

Old man and the dog

2007-12-30T13:57:00.001+05:30

I was never an early riser but as my engagement was approaching hurriedly, and I wanted to look my best on the D-day - I embarked upon this task of getting rid of those extra pounds (believe me- very few) around my waist.

To achieve the set goal I decided on a three point action plan- morning walks, controlled eating and evening sessions at the gym. In the beginning itself I faltered on two counts- the diet part (because I just can’t control myself when it comes to food) and the gym bit (You know- I am not the gym kind. I feel like an odd man out there). So, the only option left was the morning walk.

For the first few days I would ‘sleep walk’ within my residential campus, quickly finishing three rounds and then hitting the bed again to fulfil the second instalment of my sleep. Not only that, I would even indulge in bouts of overeating without a trace of guilt assuming that I had done my share of hard work (three rounds) for the day. This definitely didn’t help and I grew by few more inches around my waist. With less than a month left for the ceremony I had to press the panic button. I was determined to resolve the ‘heavy’ crisis and hence follow the morning regime religiously.

It took multiple alarms to wake me up on the day one. Rather than stepping out half asleep, I did few stretching and warm up exercises before venturing out. This helped. For a change, I decided to leave the comfort of the known territory (my campus) and walk in an unfamiliar neighbourhood.

I had rediscovered the morning after a long time (since my school days) and the fresh air brought back some sweet memories of my childhood. Come to think of it- isn’t childhood a lot like morning- both symbolize freshness, purity and beginning.

Somehow the closed and shuttered shops reminded me of the day ahead, the usual routine of home office home- this made me think of many small things that used to give me so much pleasure when I was a child.

I saw a figure sleeping on a cot, on the pavement next to a bungalow. It was covered by a blanket from head to toe. Then I saw this adorable dog sniffing carefully around the bed. It was a healthy Labrador with a shining off-white coat. He had beautiful eyes and a very expressive tail. His pinkish wet nose was sniffing hard. His movements suggested that he was trying to wake this person on the bed. I loved dogs ever since I was a child but I could persuade my parents to keep one quite late in life (in my graduation). As a child, I remember bringing home stray puppies and feeding them on my share of bread and Parle-G biscuits. Dogs fascinated me even today.

As I was passing the bed, I caught his attention. Wagging his tail, he approached me. I couldn’t resist his friendliness and before I knew he was licking me all over. I didn’t mind it; actually I was enjoying his affection, while a voice interrupted our bonding session. The figure on the bed had come alive.

It was an old man, wearing a sweater of the same colour as his blanket (probably both were made of same material). He just had two teeth left in his mouth. His hair was sparse and of the moon light colour. It was evident that he didn’t shave for a long time now. As he tried to get up, I noticed his oversized trouser which was anchored around his waist by a string (like the one used to fasten a pyjama). His face was wrinkled and so were his hands (these we the only visible parts of his skin). The way he was looking at me suggested that his eyesight was failing or perhaps already failed. He commanded “Rustam Nahi” and the dog like an obedient student followed his orders and walked up to him. Now this old man was his world. I didn’t like my separation from Rustam and decided to continue with my walk.

Through out the day I kept thinking about Rustam and his possible relationship with the old man. I was sure he was not the owner of the dog. I recalled that the entrance gate of the bungalow (adjacent to which this man was sleeping) was open and imagined it as Rustam’s home.

That evening while coming back from office, I stopped to pick up the biggest pack of Parle-G available in the shop.

Next morning it didn’t take me much to get out of the bed. I was eager to meet Rustam again. As I walked towards that place I saw Rustam playing with the old man. His fore paws resting on the cot and his face buried in little place between the old man’s thighs. The Old man laid his arms around Rustam like old friends hugging each other. The sight made me jealous. I wish I had a companion like that and couldn’t stop myself from calling out- “Rustam”. He raised his head to see who wanted him now. To my surprise, he did recognise me. Wagging his tail he ran to me- and then he did a strange thing- he started moving back and forth between me and the old man. It was as if he, playing the role of a common friend wanted us (old man and me) to meet.

I walked up to the old man, today he was wide awake and greeted me with his two teethed smile. He said “Rustam to aap ka dost ban gaya”. I liked his hospitality. Between I remembered that I had carried some biscuits for Rustam. I took them out of my pocket and lured Rustam. He was so excited about this present. He stood on his hind legs to reach for them. I tried hand feeding him, but he took the biscuits (one by one from my hand) and placed them next to the old man’s feet. In his eyes I could see a desire to consume them but he was waiting for something. “Kha lo beta” the old man said, now I understood Rustam’s dilemma – he was waiting for the approval of his master to accept the gift. I was impressed with Rustam’s self control.

While Rustam gulped the biscuits, I tried talking to the old man. “Is this your dog?” I asked him. “No this is my son” he replied, and then he laughed aloud “I can’t feed myself, how I can maintain this English dog” he added. “Oh” I wondered. He sensed my perplexity and explained further- “I worked in this bungalow for thirty five years. I served two generations of the family. I used to do everything from house keeping, to gardening to guarding. They got Rustam four years back when he was just a month old. I brought him up. We have been best friends since then. I don’t have a family, but I never missed having one because of Rustam. I took care of him like a father and now he looks after me as a son”. There was sadness in his voice. “Do you still work there?” I probed. “No, my eyesight started failing a year back, but in last few months it worsened. It was increasingly difficult to perform even smallest of the jobs. So when I became useless they asked me to leave the house”. Rustam had finished his biscuits and now joined the conversation. He was sitting on his hind legs and looking at us as if we were talking about him. “I don’t have any place to go. So I started living here. The only good thing about this is that I can see Rustam everyday. They were kind enough to let him meet me”. I felt apologetic for starting this conversation and at the same time good to have discovered such a saga of friendship between a man and his dog.

It became a ritual for me to meet both of them everyday. Along with biscuits for Rustam, occasionally I used to carry bread and other eatables for the old man which he used to put into his plastic bag only to consume later. Now Rustam didn’t seek the man’s approval to devour on my biscuits. I imagined myself to be Rustam’s second best friend.

One of the good things about Bangalore is the weather. It is moderate for most of the year. The only problem is the rains. Not even rains, it is the after affect of rains like traffic jams and power cuts that I am bothered about. I like sunny days. May be because I stay alone- cloudy days make me gloomy. But come August and you hardly get to see the sun here.

Then came the first big pour of the year. It rained continuously for a day. For the first time in last fortnight I missed my morning walk… and Rustam. That night while I was watching rain from my fourth floor window- it suddenly occurred to me. What would have happened to the old man? He didn’t have a roof on his head. Did the owners accommodate him in the bungalow for the night or could he find some other shelter.

I grew restless and couldn’t sleep the whole night. I woke up before the alarm. Fetched some food for Rustam and more food for the old man and ran towards the bungalow. From a close distance I could see Rustam below the bed. The old man was still sleeping may be. On reaching the spot, I found the old man missing. The blanket was wet and dripping. Rain had washed away the plastic bag containing his food. I tried peeping into the bungalow and searched in the vicinity as well, but he was found nowhere.

All this while Rustam kept laying there- as if he didn’t notice my presence. He looked sad and tired. His head drooped next to his stretched limbs as if he was thinking something. I tried consoling him but he was too absorbed in his loss. I tried to feed him the biscuits but he dropped them on the floor. I pictured the old man nodding an approval “kha lo beta”.

Nothing could compensate Rustam’s loss. To give him his space I left him alone. After that day, for the next few days I kept going to that place every morning. The bed was still there but I didn’t see Rustam again. Everyday I came back with unconsumed biscuits in my pocket.

I stopped going for morning walks. I don’t like early mornings anymore and I just hate rains.

Khoya Khoya Chand- How a self assumed movie critic can screw up an accomplished work of art.

2007-12-22T18:25:00.000+05:30

Watching KKC was quiet a demanding experience for me. I watch a good number of Hindi movies and especially make it a point to not miss any of the mainstream commercial movies backed by the moguls of the Indian film industry. I love the simplicity of the narration and syrupiness of emotions that these movies offer. These ‘super hit’ movies reinforce some of the fundamental moral science lessons that I learnt in childhood- Good always wins over evil, it’s always about loving your parents, adultery of any kind is a sin and many more which I can’t recall off hand.

So, when my friends suggested that we should watch KKC, I cautioned them-“you should be open to get surprised, it might not essentially be pleasant”. I tried explaining them that the guaranteed entertainers are only those that are directed and produced by the likes of Johars and Chopras. “With these guys like Sudhir- you never know what they might come up with each time. Their movies are so unpredictable. They are so indulgent that you have to keep guessing. I could get the story of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai just by looking at the trailer. Unlike, the Johars and Chopras, these other guys don’t know the pulse of the audience and their tastes. See that is the reason even the big super stars work only exclusively with established directors”.

But, my friends persisted- someone liked the music very much, one of my friends loves historic movies so he had to watch it and one of my female friends loved Shiney in Bhool Bhulaiya, so even she was very keen. Finally, I relented. How much I wanted to explain them that movie is like a work of art and they should enjoy it in totality, not in bits and pieces. As the say they – you should always see the ‘big picture’.

So as we walked out of the hall, they asked me the much obvious question. None of them liked it and now they wanted to know my opinion. As they respect my expertise on the subject they always await for special comments from me. Many a times they told me- “boss you see movie from a totally different angle”. Today, my opinion was not different from theirs. Only because I am sensitive viewer- I like giving reasons for my liking or disliking rather than applauding or dismissing something without giving any proper logic.

There were couple of reasons why I didn’t like KKC-

I started “Boss the fundamentals itself of the story were not clear. Every story needs to have a clearly defined bad guy and a good guy. That establishes the foundation for a good story. In this movie I could not figure out who is the Hero and who is the villain. Every character had some good qualities in him and at the same time bad qualities also. I didn’t know whom to support. Take an example- in ‘Krrish’ even before watching the movie you know whose side you are”.

My friend suddenly interrupted- “but come to think of it, in real life that is what holds true. Not everything is black and white; in fact most of it is grey. We have our own goodness’s and demons too”.
I excused his ignorance and corrected him- “dude that is real life you are talking about. In reel life this doesn’t work. You can’t risk a chance – that’s why they call it ‘Picture Perfect’. Even before you know Raj or Rahul, you fall in love with them”.

I thought I had put the discussion to rest, but, because they didn’t like the movie, they wanted to at least make this debate interesting. So came another wisecrack- “but I heard that as a story teller you need to look at the plot objectively. And some of the world’s acclaimed directors are celebrated because of their dispassionate and non- judgemental view of the subject. Isn’t it true that they are great because they restrain form any sort of emotional manipulation”.

I reasoned with him- “see don’t talk about west or arty stuff. India is a very sentimental country. As a story teller you should know how to make the audience’s emotions work for you. Remember how in ‘Kal Ho na ho’ when Shahrukh walks out of hospital with so much pain, we as audience could connect with his pain. That is the power of story telling- make the audience cry with you and laugh with you”

To reinforce my point I simplified further- “leave that, you know what the other biggest flaw of the movie is? There is no central theme for the movie. Is it about love, ambitions or complexities related to a particular profession? What is it about? He has tried to address many issues at one time and made a mess of it. I am sure you must have heard that too many cooks spoil the broth, similarly in case of movies- to many issues spoil the plot”

They were not ready to give up- “but…tell me, in practicality, how can one feeling be independent of other feelings. Like love might give rise to insecurities and ambitions may result in jealousies. Don’t we at any given point of time feel a mix of emotions and an attempt to show them as they are is an honest attempt than picking and choosing the one which is most convenient to show?”

I was ready with my reply “see I will tell you what works for us- if the hero loves someone- he should love her to death, if he wants to achieve something in life- come what may- he should not be distracted from his ultimate goal, and the heroine, if she loves the hero- then dare she sees other man, let alone touching him. This kind of absolute focus and dedication is needed to grip your audience”

They tried forcing a point again – “ok let’s talk about the most commonly showed emotion- love. But then love in itself is such a complicated emotion with varied manifestations. Don’t you think that the so called ‘hit’ movies make this far too ordinary?”

I retorted-“come on guys, the job of the director is to simplify the story. You should not trust the audience’s intelligence and leave anything for them to interpret. The mantra is to spoon feed the viewers” and with a strong intention to put an end to this debate, I concluded “and before you put forward any other doubt; let me use a quote from the film that describes best why this didn’t work. As some one tells Zafar- "waqt se aage rahna asaan hai, per use sehna mushkil hai”.

They finally surrendered “we thought you had objections with the length of the movie or the narrative inconsistencies or may be Soha’s inadequacy for the part but your issues are much more than these”

Victoriously I declared “there is much more than that meets the eye”

PS: For those who still don't get it- I am playing the role of a self assumed critic (Spoiled by the masala movies) and deciphering (interpreting in a wrong way ofcourse) KKC, which indeed is a work of art. I absolutely loved the movie.

Mad? Is he?

2007-12-13T17:30:00.000+05:30

Today- it was one of those lazy mornings when I don’t feel like giving up the coziness of my bed. Getting late out of the bed means arriving late at work which in turn means that I won't get the parking for my car (It’s a free parking so the first come first serve rule applies here). So I had to hunt for an auto.
As my office is on MG Road (one of the busiest roads in the city), the auto guys are generally not very friendly with me. Most of them don't even give me a fair hearing. After having turned down by half a dozen autos, I finally found an auto guy who was kind enough to ferry me to my destination with an agreeable surcharge of twenty rupees over the meter reading.
Even before I could rejoice in the fact that I finally got an auto, I sensed something wrong with the auto guy. He was talking to himself… kind of mumbling. I wondered if this is his way of entertaining himself. I understand that this job can be quite boring. Many a times I have witnessed autowallahs doing a karaoke with the radio or chatting up with the fellow auto drivers at traffic signals. But this behavior was first of sorts.
As the traffic intensified, this guy's conversations with self became louder and were complemented by strange and fierce body movements (actions). Now this was spooky. The first thing that occured to me was "Is this guy mad?” I was scared if this guy is going to bump into someone or something. I toyed with the idea of getting down midway but decided otherwise thinking that doing so might aggravate him. I was praying all the while that I should make it safely to the office. At traffic signals this guy was even more forceful in his actions. At every red light he was bursting into incomprehensible shouting and threw his hands like he was giving directions to someone. Obviously, on every such occasion we became the centerpiece of everyone's attention. While they were curious as to what this guy was up to, in their eyes I could also see sympathy for me. Anybody could guess how embarrassed I was to be sitting in that mad fellow's auto. The journey from home to office was the longest today. Enough of this fear and embarrassment- I wanted to be in the comfort of sanity. Finally I reached my destination. I had already pulled out the money- I wanted this association to end as quickly as possible.
As I was handing over the currency- I don't know why- but I asked him-"Why do you talk to yourself? The passengers will be scared". I was not expecting any meaningful answer but nonetheless wanted to listen to his explanation. He started to talk, contrary to the conspicuous behavior while he was driving; now he was speaking softly. He said "Saab, I had a 19 year old son, I taught him how to drive an auto. Last week while driving an auto, he met with an accident and died on the spot" My mouth had turned dry. He continued "I think, I somehow didn’t train him properly. So I am training him now all over again so that he will never have an accident again”.
I think even he wanted to get rid of me at the earliest; he did not wait for my comment and prepared to move on. "God bless him" I whispered, don't know if he heard that but I did not wish for anyone so honestly before.

Café Coffee Day: Review

2007-12-01T00:45:00.000+05:30

Great brand. But is that enough?

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whose side you are- mine or the company's) I am part of the team responsible for launching a casual wear brand across the major hypermarkets in the country. As a brand manager for a brand which targets evolved, fashion conscious and price sensitive youth (people between the age group of 20 to 30 years...ok as my PPT reads...not only the physical bracket of age but the youthful mindset) I am always on a search for ideal brands that can serve as reference point for us. These brands need not be essentially from the same category (apparel) but should be targeting the same target group. Brands which can teach us a trick or two on how to appeal (and more importantly sell) to the so called 'new and improved' youth of India.

And in my quest for such case studies Cafe Coffee day figures out on the top of the list.

Imagine a good old traditional south Indian boy spending forty bucks on a cup of coffee. CCD (that’s what the youngsters affectionately call it) has made it possible. I did my own dipstick study on a sample chosen on convenience basis and was amused by the results.

Out of fifty people whom I interviewed- none of them said that they come here for coffee. Most of them consider it as a hangout place (the modern day 'adda') where they catch up and chat up with friends, some 'use' it as a dating joint, few think that it’s a great place for meetings and then there were other ' I hate research' responses like- 'I like the music here' or ‘I come here to read...so now would you mind...'

So people come here to chat, to discuss work, to flirt and even to kill time (all those who shooed me away with their ‘I like reading/ I like music' responses). And of course they do all this over a cup of coffee. It’s interesting to see that it’s all about the place- the experience. Coffee is just a just a consequence or a by-product. I bet that the place would do equally well even if they were selling something else.

For many teenagers CCD has become an important part of their lives. They see it as an extension of their own personality and I am sure even when they grow older they would keep revisiting it to relive some of their cherished memories (it pays to catch them young!).

CCD’s business strategy has been admirable- striking a right balance between the price and the product mix. Rather than catering to the connoisseur’s taste, it has benefited by serving to the popular taste. Anyways coffee served in these cafés is an acquired taste for most of us and hardly do we go beyond a cappuccino, a hot chocolate or a cold coffee and if at all in a mood to experiment may be a latté. Then why have varieties that a common man can’t even pronounce, let alone trying them.

Moving on to food, earlier they didn’t have much to offer for snacking except assembly line food like burgers, sandwiches, unpalatable samosas and pastries in unadventurous flavours like pineapple, butterscotch and chocolate. But now the food options have improved considerably (I particularly relish the corn and spinach sandwich and my cup of cappuccino with an almond biscotti) and the newly introduced lunch items (like pastas, biryani, paratha with curry, etc) have received a warm welcome especially by the corporate crowd. As a matter of fact, whenever I am travelling to new locations and I am not being my adventurous self I rely on CCD as my comfort food destination. I have grown to trust CCD for their quality, hygiene and consistency of food.

Apart from food and beverages the CCD team has made a commendable effort in leveraging the brand potential and the retail opportunity by introducing many brand extensions like mint, cookies, t-shirts, coffee mugs, etc. and lets not forget that they even pioneered innovative concepts like jukebox and newsletter which were quite a hit among the youth.

Talking about the pricing I think they have a very clever strategy- It is by no means low-priced, but when compared to the price lists of other chains the CCD menu looks affordable.

Last year I read this book ‘High performance entrepreneur’ by Mr. Bagchi wherein he has written about the entrepreneurial beginnings of the coffee day. A young man named Sidharthta reinvented his coffee estate business based on one simple yet powerful insight- he realised that as a coffee grower you can’t decide the price of the commodity but when you value add and sell the drink you can charge according to your wish. On this realisation, he based his entire model and see where he has come today.

What I like about this guy is that not only is he a good thinker, but also a brilliant executioner. The pace at which he has scaled up the business is laudable. Lately they have been pretty aggressive in setting up their cafés along important highways that have become obligatory stopovers for herds of travellers.

Just when I thought that everything was going right for this brand, I experienced the biggest limitation of it- the service.

I have never been a great fan of their service but lately I have been disgusted by the inefficiency of the CCD staff. And let me assure you that this is not a biased reporting; I have heard similar tales of their service lags from several fellow CCD well wishers. Even in my case I haven’t been motivated to write this because of my bad experiences in one odd outlet. I have witnessed consistent service disasters at multiple CCD outlets.

Let me quickly give you a gist of my last five encounters with the CCD staff:

1st Encounter: I order for a veg pasta and they serve me a non veg pasta. That too I discover its non vegetarian origins after chewing on a piece of chicken and questioning the unfamiliarity of the taste. On demanding an explanation the waiter smiles and replies “No problem sir. I will get you the other one”. Whaaat? I have lost my chastity and you say “No problem”

2nd Encounter (same outlet and same waiter): I go with a hard core non- vegetarian friend. He orders a non veg curry and paratha. Playing safe owing to my previous experience I avoid food and stick to coffee. The food arrives and my friend is highly disappointed to see a palak paneer in place of some non-veg keema. On enquiry that waiter revolted “yesterday I got non veg and you got angry na sir?”

3rd Encounter (different outlet): I take my official guests for lunch and luckily everything goes well till we get the bill. I give my card to swipe but waiter keeps standing there with a smiley like face. “What?” I ask him. Unapologetically he announces: “Sir, swipe machine is not working since morning, please give cash”. What? Why didn’t you tell me this when I placed my order. How do you expect me to get cash now? He was generous with his suggestion “Sir all of you can pool in na?” Believe me that was the most embarrassing moment of my life- asking my guests to pay up for the meal.

4th encounter (another different outlet): As I am about to sip my coffee, I hear a lady screaming her lungs out. Abusing the staff and giving them management lessons, both at the same time. She looked like the corporate sorts. She had ordered for a portion of cheese potato wedges and while waiting for that she had already gulped three cups of coffee. Still the food had not arrived and one could see the mixed feelings of anticipation (for food) and anger in her eyes. That was an odd hour and the store was practically empty. She like a general was marching to and fro and cursing the army of guilty waiters.

5th encounter (where the day 1 episode happened): Between the three of us we ordered one Latte and two cappuccinos (one regular and the other slightly stronger), two packs of biscotti and a corn and spinach sandwich. The waiter arrives with a completely new order. He gets us the right sandwich, but three cappuccinos and two packs of chocolate cookies. When I try to correct him, he calls upon another waiter for assistance. I painfully explain him the situation and he reasons it out with me- “Sir this new guy is useless. I asked him not to take orders but doesn’t listen to me”. I snap at him “Boss this is none of my head ache. You sort out your personal scores but please don’t mess up with my food”

Recently one of my ex-colleagues joined the creative team of CCD. He told me that his key responsibility was to make sure that there is a consistent visual language across all the outlets. I.e. all the CCD outlets should have the same look and feel.

I was surprised at the management’s eye for detail. Because, frankly speaking I have been to a lot of CCD outlets across geographies and I did not see any inconsistencies on that end (look and feel).

But then I wonder that if such minute discrepancies are being investigated with such missionary zeal, how come such an important and fundamental aspect of customer service has not been prioritised yet. May be they want their waiters to be self trained, on the job at our cost.
Now every time I step into a CCD, a sense of anxiety dawns upon me, an uneasiness as to what is in store for me this time around.
Hmmm…Indeed a lot can happen over a cup of coffee!

Himesh on a highway

2007-11-17T19:56:00.001+05:30

This Diwali it was an impulsive trip to Agra (my home town in UP), world famous for Taj Mahal, which a Tantra t-shirt describes as man’s greatest erection for a woman (Now that’s some smart copy!).

It wasn’t the occasion, but the fear of spending a lonely weekend locked up at home that prompted me to escape from Bangalore. All my friends (including my fiancé) were super excited about celebrating Diwali with their families and suddenly all this resulted in me -a longing for my folks (in Agra) like never before.

I don't catch up with my friends everyday or party every night, but at least I am comforted by the fact that in case if I need them they are around. Its funny but the thought of loneliness is more discomforting that the actual state of being alone. My condition could be best described as a simple case of self pity. So all this provided me an excuse good enough to swipe my card for the return trip to what I call home.

After landing in Delhi (Agra doesn’t have an airport) I continued my tradition of royalty by taking a private cab all to myself than choosing a more public mode of transport like a train or a bus. This tradition of royalty is a grave consequence of the artificial purchasing power generated by the credit cards. It is a different matter altogether that the same card companies screw us royally by their interest rates and hundred other hidden charges.

Somehow I like this cab part of the journey the most.

It’s strange but in such cases of re-bonding with family, I cherish the journey more than the destination. For me the journey is symbolic of the climax of my craving to meet my loved ones and like all good bollywood climaxes this one too leads to a happy ending. The thought that I am about to meet them at just about the end of this journey and the anticipation (of what all I want to do when I meet them and till I am with them) which so much forms a part of the journey is what I savour the most. In fact from the moment I meet them my mental clock begins a countdown of limited time left for my exit. Hence, the longing for fast approaching good times (represented by journey) is better than waiting for them to come to an end (ticking mental clock).

So where was I? Yes, in the cab. The four hour drive on the national highway is quite an interesting one.

The entire stretch is dotted by Punjabi Dhabas, all claiming to be using only ‘shudh desi ghee’ (pure homemade ghee) in all their preparations. If a particular dhaba (Vaishno dhaba is my favourite) earns a reputation for tasty food (you can’t call it good food, that’s a different criteria altogether) there would be ‘n’ number of other dhabas that would spring up in the vicinity and all the clones would boast for their originality (all would christen themselves as the ‘original vaishno dhaba’). If so much purity and originality was not enough, few also have an impressive array of marketing gimmicks. The savvier ones of the lot would have a visual hook that attracts the attention of the passing traffic and urges them to stop by. Like great marketing minds, these dhabas try to target the attention of the most vulnerable target- the kid in each one of us. So you would be greeted by clowns, magicians, acrobats and even tamed bears performing cute little acts (unfortunately, what is entertainment for us is suffering for the wild. It is actually a punishable offence to keep these bears in captivity; also they are trained and kept under the most cruel conditions). The dhaba that I stopped at for a tea break had a brigade of waiters who were dwarfs. I was amused at their effort to differentiate. All said and done, with me dhaba food is an addiction and like all bad habits it’s sinful (hangover in this case is a bad stomach) but the experience is thoroughly enjoyable while it lasts.

If there has been one constant companion in my last few trips to home- it has to be Himesh Reshamiyya. The minute you touch the highway the cab driver would cheerfully play the latest Himesh tracks. It’s only an assumption that they are latest as all his songs sound the same. It’s difficult to actually classify this guy’s music (if I may call it that) except his trademark nasal twangs. Then how does one slot noise into any genre? And while Himesh was singing ‘tera tera tera surooor’ for me, the cabbie like a true devotee introduced me to the mysterious world of Himesh. As he unfolded the mystery behind the rock star’s permanent persona fixtures (cap, beard and leather jackets) and his failed love life which instigated the artist in him, I realised that you just can’t escape this new kid on the block.

While on that, this time around I noticed a host of private engineering, dental and management colleges that have mushroomed along the highway. Mostly owned and run by private business houses, these are the strong indicators of the increasing commercialisation of education in our country. Riding high on the wave of the new and improved buoyancy of our economy, these institutions have made successful business out of distributing qualifications. Never before was it so easy to become an engineer or a doctor. This commercialisation of education has actually legitimised money as a substitute for merit.

On the drive to Agra you cross through cities like Faridabad, Palwal, Kosi and Mathura. It was while criss crossing these cities that I became conscious of one more interesting trend. It is about ‘what’ is driving the new India and ‘who’ is driving that ‘what’.

Alto is the new Maruti 800. The way Maruti 800 used to be an aspiring middle class Indian’s first sign of acquired sophistication in the 90’s, Alto has become the new symbol of status display for an average Indian today. What is more interesting is that there is an increasing participation of women in driving this change (read Alto in this case). To put it simply, you would witness more women screwing up the traffic etiquettes than ever before. Women by virtue are the most horrible drivers and unfortunately have decided to try their hand more often at it. And unlike men abusing men (fellow men riders’) who fuck up while driving, you generally can’t take the liberty to bad mouth a woman so publicly.

The excitement doesn’t end with this bit; it actually intensifies with my arrival in Agra. Interpreting the distinctive characteristics of small towns is a great source of entertainment. The behavioural patterns of the population of these places display acute symptoms of what I call- as ‘trickling effect’. It’s interesting to observe how the metro culture trickles down into these tier two and three cities but not without few of their own individualistic and collective eccentricities.

But I will save that and all for my next blog…and yes I had a delightful time at home and have attempted to keep a piece of it with me by writing this blog...Love you ma.

Double meter 'saar'

2007-11-03T01:28:00.000+05:30

AUTTOoooo! Bhayya Old Madras Road chaloge?

This is the thousandth time I am asking this question in the last half an hour- and the reactions from all the auto guys are akin (Almost)… An annoyed fleeting look- The kind that you would offer to someone who is trying to sneak a look at your private parts when you are peeing in a public loo or if you are the orthodox types, imagine the look that you would bid to someone who sneezes when you are just about to step out for some real important work.

I feel blameworthy for committing the offence and at the same time grateful that the merciful auto guy has forgiven me in spite of my inexcusable sin.

Finding an auto is not difficult in Bangalore, that they are many; the problem lies in convincing them to go to a particular place… or any place for that matter.

These guys are a sort of wandering souls, perennially on a long drive in solitude. I seriously think that this roaming around (all by themselves) has a purpose…that too a very important one…may be a kind of religious and a philosophical quest…similar to a ‘tapasya’ in Himalayas…trying to figure out answers to more meaningful questions pertaining to life, death & everything in between.

So it is obvious that these otherwise saintly guys get terribly upset if lesser mortals like us divert them from pursuits of critical nature. This is understandable and over the period I have reconciled with the fact that bothering these guys with silly things is nothing less than ‘Bad Karma’.

This is how a usual conversation takes place between us-

I (Aloud): Bhayya khalee hai?

Auto guy (Just by his looks): idiot, don’t you know that we are never ‘khalee’. God has sent us on earth with a special purpose…anyways it’s too much for you to understand all that kid. (With a smirk) I am letting you go this time but never ever do this again.

As I told you that I have learned to co-exist with this breed of lone travellers, but it is the other kind that bugs me the most and believe me its awfully hard to differentiate both.

On the outset, these guys (the second type) also look like holy explorers but have a slightly materialistic viewpoint on the worldly matters…and more importantly they are kind.

When you scream for help (Bhayyaaaa...)- they stop (How does matter even if they stop few yards away and you have to jog up to them? Remember God never comes to your doorstep when you are in trouble…he will wait for you at the neighbour’s place…and trick is…you have to reach him before the neighbour…hfff…hfff).

They even give you a patient hearing (either you explain the deal in two seconds or get lost…God only hears to the loud, quick and articulate) then… yes, it is then… that you see the most cunningly compassionate face in the world (Mogambo…Khush Hua).

While I wonder… if this is happening to me…that finally God is about to answer my prayers, I realise that God has meticulous terms and conditions for doing anything.

Especially if he is going out of the way to do something for you…he expects you to even please him in an out of the way manner.

Don’t worry…unlike what you thought…he is not abstract… Everything is quantifiable in his rule. “Double meter saar”. See how calculative he is (and so humble…he called me ‘saar’).

Dare ask him the explaination for the premium and you are enlightened about the imaginary traffic jam on the way (Through out the journey you would fear a nasty jam and you won’t even realise that you are home. On seeing your amazement god will just smile upon you. God never boasts).

But I didn’t know that we should never haggle with God. “Double nahi, 10 Rupees extra le lo sir”.

He gives you a 'go to hell' sort of look- and the God decides to go. I come back to senses and apologise for my ignorance. “ok theek hai”-I surrender to the greed...sorry...God.

God is merciful and I reach home today.

What is interesting is that I see these Gods everyday and everywhere. But every time I need them, I wish I could stop depending on them.

Whoever said religion is a form of corruption.

Thank you Mr. Biyani

2007-09-26T18:00:00.000+05:30

It was while addressing a bunch of enthusiastic management students from a Tier II city, that the ‘retail reality’ hit me so hard.

Naively, I asked them the sacred question of what do you want to do after you finish your MBA? Instantly came the answer. It was as if I did a mistake of asking them an unintelligent and the obvious question. I did not experience such a consensus or a collective agreement on any issue that we discussed so far.

Every one wanted to jump on the ‘retail’ bandwagon. It would have been still understandable if I were in a metro (like a Delhi or a Mumbai) or even a satellite city (like a Pune or a Hyderabad), but I was in a city where the only ‘new age’ retail landmark was a Big Bazaar, which came a month ago.

I was conscious that ‘retail’ is the new buzzword, but wrongly assumed that it was still an urban phenomenon.

The same evening I decided to check out the only Big Bazaar in the city and this is where all my myths were shattered. It was a packed house on a weekday.

Unlike metros, here customers came mostly in groups of three or more. The groups would include families (husband, wife and young kid/s), teenagers, and in some cases, the group even consisted of two or more families together.

A routine activity of grocery buying has suddenly transformed into a fun filled family outing. Women in their fanciest clothes, complete with the choicest of lipsticks and other accessories, bedazzled kids, either steering the trolley or enjoying a ride on it (depending on the age) and men, the mobile ATMs of the above two. It seems as if this Bunty & Babli city has taken to the whole hypermarket thing, like fish to water.

Something in me said that this is going to be the future. The conventional mom and pop stores would not do any more. The customers are not going to be happy just with the fair price and the good quality of the products. They want ‘More’.

More in terms of variety, offers, the store ambience, parking lots, clean toilets, suitable lighting, attractive fixtures… and the list goes on. When did we ever think, that the place where we buy from will become even more important than what we buy from there.

Experience is the key word, that’s what the companies would be fighting for in future- How can we give our customers a better shopping experience than all others?

Marketers are trying hard to make us feel special, important & wanted.

What a time to be a customer?

It took one man’s vision to celebrate the daily needs of the Indian middle class.

Thank you Mr. Biyani. You made it happen in India.

First Blog

2007-09-22T01:52:00.000+05:30

Have been wanting to blog for a while now.

Did I say a ‘while’? Now that’s an exaggerated understatement (If something like that exists). I have been trying to write a blog (Forget blog. Write something at least) for precisely two years now.

Who (or what) stopped me all this while? Probably laziness or a dispassionate view of things in general.

On second thoughts- perhaps, life was just 'fine'.

Oh My God… ‘fine’ is such a boring thing. A mathematical equivalent of ‘fine’ would be ‘average’ (A figure that evens out the interesting extremes of highs & lows and settles for a comfortable, yet, terribly boring ballpark).

An incident has to be either interesting or disgusting, if you want to 'tell' it to others.

‘Tell’ , may be, is a wrong choice of word. It suggests the willingness of the narrator but disrespects the interest of the listener. Perhaps ‘Share’ might be the right choice, as it reasonably involves the eager speaker and the interested listener.

So, Life was fine. Life was… Wake up…office…lunch…home…dinner (&TV)…Sleep… and life continued.

So what has happened now that has inspired me to suddenly take up the challenge? Is it something good or bad (that happened) which has given me an opportunity to strike a conversation with you? So is my life ‘not fine’ anymore?

Actually it’s quite disappointing to confess that I am still doing fine.

Its just that I have made a conscious effort to find happiness in the most common of the situations… the happy lunches (followed by power naps…yes, very much in office), feel good movies (with happy endings), engaging books and even more engaging conversations.

Indeed, life is not about that one big thing that all of us want to achieve. It’s about thousands of such small bundles of joy that we just let to pass on. Our 'big' ambitions insulate us of these beautiful moments to an extent, that we don’t even realise them to be happening to us.

Hmm...I think, I am lost somewhere in words. I told you I am not good with this writing bit.

Anyways, I have decided to celebrate Life and to make an uninhibited public display of it. So I am going to pour all of it here… good and bad, big and small…everything that happens to me…that I like or dislike.

So keep watching out for this space, if you have liked my story so far… or restrict this site altogether if you are fed up of my bullshit.