Woes of the Working Mother

I have been a bad, bad blogger and haven't blogged a blog since 2012. I hope to rectify that. There were many drafts that were created with great diligence and then abandoned for reasons too many to enumerate.

First off, Cambridge! I loved it. Not because of the faculty, or the weather (oh gwad help us the weather was hell on earth type awful), or the rowing or the food or even the buildings.... it was the people I studied with. I have never in my life (or since then) come across a madder, more brilliant bunch of mental cases crammed into one batch. During that halcyon period, I did a global marketing project for Raspberry Pi, a risk study for Swiss Re and interned with IBM's India Research Lab where I made pitch decks and helped them market 5 of the technologies that they had developed. They offered me a job in Bangalore, idiot that I was, I turned it down because I was living in NCR. Instead, I joined a Cambridge based tech commercialization company called Accelerator India. It was massive fun. I spent the next two and a half years helping British tech companies expand into India, met with folks all across the spectrum in India from Joint Secretaries, to ministers, to regulators in telecom and electronics, to defence personnel to PSU head honchos, Private corporate managements and a tonne of start ups.

Then I got pregnant and everything changed. I was an 'at risk' pregnancy which meant that I was treated little better than a meat based incubator and only the fetus mattered. Excruciating pain caused by what I later found out was a severe Vitamin D deficiency was passed off as "Oh this is normal, don't make a fuss". I had such a terrible time with my first OB/Gyn I switched doctors in my second trimester. Thank God for Practo, because my first doctor refused point blank to give me a reference. Anyway, after a pregnancy I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy, I delivered a healthy baby girls and got down to the serious business of making sure she met all her baby milestones and was well cared for.

Then it was time for work. During my maternity break, Brexit had hit and my previous company closed down on me. So I had to start the search anew. For the uninitiated, that is never a pleasant thing, particularly with an infant that needs looking after. My biggest savior? The day care center. I would not be working today if it wasn't for the day care center. There really need to be more day care centers around the country. Women need it.

At the time there were only two chains in Gurgaon that offered standardized day care for infants. My daughter was 10 months old at the time. Ipsaa and KLAY were the only two available. I picked Ipsaa because they served the children fresh cooked food while KLAY insisted that I send food for my baby. I was going to start work and couldn't afford to puree stuff first thing in the morning and she was already on solids and was moving away from formula. So KLAY was out and Ipsaa was in. Intellitots and the smaller ones were dismissed for location, facilities, staff etc etc.

But let me tell you, working with a kid, despite all the support that day care provided, was horrendous. Whether you have a supportive company or not, deadlines do not care about a sick kid. Your kid cannot understand why mama needs to work on a weekend and cannot play with her or hold her. I would look forward to her naps, because that was the only time I got to complete my work. Husband, family etc, there's a lot of verbal support, but you the mother are still expected to make your child the priority. You are expected to watch in silence while younger colleagues get promoted over you and be content watching your child smile. Having a child and going back to work really made me realize a couple of things:
1) Children and front line jobs are mutually exclusive. You can have a kid if you have a 9 to 5 job that never demands overtime and where you can easily find someone to substitute you when you have to go for a parent teacher meeting or look after your sick kid
2) No matter what your boss says, you will still be expected to compete with your childless male colleagues
3) Salaries will mostly not be the same, no will salary growth. I took a salary cut when I joined my current company after my maternity break and I still haven't reached the level I was at, pre-maternity
4) Every day is a compromise. There are no more big wins
5) You need your parents around. Else kiss your job goodbye.

This was a slightly dreary post but I promise the next one will be a hoot and a half. Lock down adventures, coming up next

A new chapter....

So the Cambridge chapter of my life has begun. On Friday the 14th of September I was officially matriculated into the system... while signing a printout may not seem all that 'Vavoom!' trust me, it is. After several hic-cups, things finally got sorted out... in my case primarily because my better (at IT) half sorted it out for me. Left to my own devices I would probably have done something drastic like smashing something smashable or just given up all hope and gone home. The highlight of the day, for me at least, was the Matriculation Dinner. Not for the formality and the style and the rest of that blabitty blah blah blah. Oh no. I (The sole Goan in the batch - yes I am that awesome ;-P) thoroughly enjoyed myself because of the food and the conversation. Perhaps I was just lucky but I had a totally hilarious bunch of people around me. 

The conversation started off innocently enough with the basic introductions and the bread. Then came the first course - this awesome tart with onions caramelised in brie or something equally exotic...anyway, it was awesome. Conversational content was also upped a notch. I had a tutor diagonally opposite me with two Americans on either side of him. Unfortunately for him, both were climbing nuts - something he knew absolutely nothing about. He was however an ex-bond fund manager, so obviously we had a lot to talk about. So there was this very earnest T-shaped conversational thing going on, with the tutor describing his career to the guy at my side and me whenever necessary and the two bouldering nuts talking around him about various climbing and bouldering options in and around Cambridge. So you had things like the Russian debt default interspersed with chalk bags and climbing shoes. I tell you solemnly, the situation was hilarious. Neither part of the T-Conversation knew a thing about what was going on in the other conversation but their respective discussions were too interesting to let go off. That then shifted to a squarish conversation about Americans and English in America. You know how when you go places and locals find out that you are Indian, the first question you sometimes get is 'Do you know Amitabh Bachchan?' Well apparently British get asked if they know the Queen or anyone from the Royal family. Needless to say that conversation quickly deteriorated into accent imitations. One of the Americans was half Scottish and his vocal renditions of Scots versus American was quite, quite priceless. 

Just when I thought it couldn't get any funnier, another 'spirited discussion' erupted on my other side. I must mention that I had the Praelector on my other side with an Australian batchmate opposite him. The Australian managed to get himself totally tangled in his own argument and the Praelector was having a jolly good chuckle at his expense. This was now more interesting than the 'American idiosyncrasies' discussion. So obviously, I got into it. The Praelector specialises in medieval history. Apparently there's a whole other debate on what actually constitutes the medieval period. That led to a discussion on medieval politics and economics. Did you know that most warlords fought for control of sheep? Makes sense actually - food and clothing... like a two for one deal! Score!!! Eitherway, that then led to a thorough study of land grab strategy and liege lords and wars and then inheritance laws, both in England and in its colonies, and how English laws spread to Portugal and France etc. And did you know that London wasn't always in the place where it is now? Apparently at some point in the time before texts, it was somewhere else and was then shifted. But people are still trying to figure out exactly where! I can just imagine the heated arguments describing exactly why A thinks London was there aned B refuting it saying London was actually several miles to the left. Stirring stuff! 

And that wasn't the end of it! Oh no! The grace was said (in Latin) and some people don't agree with several of the statements in it!!!!! I was like...really!?! The last time I encountered Latin was when I was signing a bunch of forms before getting married! And here I am studying for an MBA when there are people doing PhD's in Latin and Medieval history and Bio Chemistry and Microbiology and I don't know what the heck else! Trust me, nothing can show you just how insignificant a blot on the landscape you are, like two faculty members arguing a point in Latin.   

A work in progress....

I learnt a very important lesson at a very young age. I was lucky. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but in hindsight I was bloody lucky to have learnt it when I did. The lesson is this. No one gives a shit about you. You are the only one responsible for your life. Merely being born into this world entitles you to precisely nothing. The sooner you realize this, the better.

Now, I’m not saying “Screw the rest of the world, I’m all that matters.” No. That’s not it at all. What I am saying is know yourself - your limitations, your strengths and most importantly, what makes you happy. I stopped watching general news and reading general news papers years ago! Why? Because all that I read/heard was about rapes, murders, scandals, scams, suffering, misery and more scandal. They’d even reduced the funnies to a quarter of a page and removed Calvin & Hobbes from the lists! Philistines!!!

The next thing I stopped doing (and this was on the advice of a senior) was to stop listening to the poisonous sorts. You know, friends and colleagues who have no conversation other than gossip about someone else’s good fortune, envy at your own and who are just never happy with what they have. Generally those who leave you feeling lower than mud once they’re done with you. Kinda like something from an episode of Supernatural – or MIB… they just CANNOT be Human! If you’re miserable after every conversation, stop talking to them. Load a ‘Fake Call’ app on your phone and use it. Frequently! It’s a brilliant escape route. Failing that think up complicated and funny insults that won’t get you into trouble with human resources but will make you feel better. Or imagine introducing them to the business end of a blunt instrument and entertain yourself until they’re done. I’ve found that being vague is a big help.

After that I stopped listening to ‘well meaning’ family members (this term is used pretty loosely to encompass everyone who decides to consider you family irrespective of how tenuous the bonds). If they don’t/can’t accept you for whom or what you are, forget them. They don’t deserve any more than the barest courtesy. They may be idiotic but that’s not reason for bad manners. My yardstick when it comes to listening to ‘family’ members is this; if I am in deep doodie, will you be there to pull me out? Are you going to come rushing to my aid from whatever corner of the country/world you are currently in? If the answer is yes, then I will listen to everything they say. I may even take notes for future reference. If the answer is no… well then, up yours honey…. You can just keep on yakking till the cows come home, it means nothing to me and neither do you.  

I began applying this to work as well. I realized that doing highly stressful things that seemed like they needed vast amounts of intelligence and effort and other related stuff was just killing me. Literally! The stress and weird hours were causing all kinds of chaos in my endocrine system. And you know that once that one goes the rest tend to follow. So I took a step back and asked myself, do I really need this? If I don’t, then why the heck am I still sticking on? Here’s one thing that I’ve realized about myself. Once I’ve figured out the format - or the system if you will - I can tackle pretty much anything! I now do seemingly herculean tasks in a jiffy! How do I manage it? Simple. Focus on the target and don’t get distracted with who’s irritating me, what’s irritating me, who’s screwed up or any of that crap. Just switch into machine mode and get the job done. It’s brilliant! Why didn’t I do this earlier? Well it’s kind of because I couldn’t use the fake call app too often and a number of my colleagues were quite fatally poisonous. It was sort of like trying to climb out of a 12 foot deep pit filled to capacity rattle snakes and pit vipers. It’s difficult not to get bitten.  

So my plan going forward:

• If something on TV is depressing– change the channel
• If someone talking to me depresses me – change the subject. If that doesn’t work – walk away. If they follow – use violence. Remember unarmed combat can be classified as self defence.
• If someone keeps bugging me on FB or on any social network trying to get me to do something I have absolutely no interest in doing – unfriend them
• If someone keeps trying to guilt trip or blackmail me into contributing to something I have no interest in contributing to or attending something I have no interest in attending – Just say no. If they are the sort to not take no for an answer – say yes and promptly forget about it
• I now read news papers online. That way I’m not paying for something that will ruin my day. The ‘Delete’ button was a wonderful invention.
• I plan to make being happy a goal. I’m going to read stuff I like, listen to music I like, watch stuff that I like and surround myself with people as crazy as me. Enough with conformity. I am not like you and I have no intention of being like you. So if you can’t handle me just as I am… too effing bad
• Most of all, I’m not going to let anyone use me again. During all of the upheaval last year, I turned to my network for help. Many came through for me and I am eternally grateful for that. A few however, wanted me to join their teams and turned incredibly nasty when I decided not to join them but instead to pursue higher studies. It was like reaching for a favorite teddy and having it morph into a particularly nasty grisly. It’s more than a little disorienting. Tends to completely throw you off your stride right when you need to be a citadel of confidence and capability. Not good.

So that’s the plan going forward. I've already worked through my contact lists. My email account will take too long so I’m just putting in filters.

No more conforming. The downside is that I’m now entirely responsible for my own screw ups… trust me… that is SCARY! Freakishly scary! Fortunately I have managed to figure out who’s got my back and who can be depended on to step up when the going gets tough. So maybe I won’t be quite so alone out there on my limb. Adventure beckons…. And like all adventures, you have absolutely no choice about which one you get, the sinking ship or the winning lottery ticket.

Visa's are EVIL!!!

So the adventures continue. We've got a trip planned and trips of this sort need visas. Now visa applications like anything else associated with governments of any sort, involve a substantial amount of waiting around. Sometimes in badly ventilated and rather aromatic locales. 

Well the adventure here started when we decided not to use a travel agent. A crucial decision as was later discovered. So we filled in the forms and got all our documents. My husband went over and submitted them. After a couple of hours and a lot of general standing around doing nothing useful at all, he finally reached the hallowed window of the oracle... i.e. the VFS employee in charge of checking applications. He went through everything and told my hapless hubby "You need 6 sets of the documents, not one, you have to get original bank statements, you have to write your name in your mother tongue and you have to write a letter to the consulate as well. Handwritten may be declined so a printed version is better." As one cannot come out with printed copies of letters at the drop of a hat, hubby headed back. We put together the new and improved version of our visa application that night and the next morn I sallied forth.

Got out of the cab and the first thing I see is a line of travel agents standing outside the compound wall, a good solid distance from the VFS outlet. I thought to myself, maybe I ought to double check... just in case you know? So I waltzed into the VFS center only to be summarily informed that they opened at 9am and that until then I could go line up with the rest of the applicants outside the compound. It was a quarter to 9 at that time. A few more travel agents joined me, some tried to jump the line, but the dirty looks I was sending their way and the presence of a 6 and a half foot pissed off Australian in front of me nipped that idea in the bud.  At 2 minutes to 9 a minor riot of sorts erupted among the travel agents, all of whom firmly believed that they had something better to do with their time other than standing around in the hot sun. They surged forth. To protect our places in line, the pissed off Australian and I grimly followed. One would think that faced with our mighty wrath, the VFS types would have backed down, opened the door and begun processing us.... but no! Damn door stayed closed! Added to that there was this mentally deficient pigeon on the awning that would make periodic raids on a piece of rope that was hanging from the opposite end of the awning. It was like a weird form of musical chairs with the pigeon leaving his perch, attacking the rope, the rope not breaking and the pigeon coming back to his perch. This was happening every 40 seconds or so.... What was my main fear? Obviously the damn thing crapping on my head! What the heck else to pigeons do? They're as dim as gold fish.

So anyway, we finally went in once the clock struck 9. I discovered that because I had 6 applications I was in the bulk segment with the travel agents. Oh hell! I went in and there was no signage at all. I mean other than numbers on the desk and an electronic ticker above the one working counter (that was handling individual applications) there was nothing! Zip, squat, bupkiss, nada! So I began interrogating the travel agents around me and then the lone VFS employee at the counter. Apparently someone would come along at another counter. More waiting... finally the counter was occupied and I was dealt with! Unfortunately, this time the VFS chick said that originals of the tickets were needed, not printouts. What the F***???????? Why the hell don't you people put that on the website? And who the hell uses original tickets anymore? Get with the times!!!!! After some discussion it turned out that I could take the offending printouts and get them stamped at the respective airline office. Did I know where the office was? Hell no! Did she know where it was? She thought so, but she thought wrong. 

Fortunately for me I called my worse half and had him check for the airline office address. He got it and I went there. Mind you, I had to go from the VFS office, to a photocopying place (surprisingly enough there aren't that many in Nariman Point) get some other offending statements photocopied, then get a cab to go to the Taj (where the airline office was, NOT I might add at CST Station as the VFS chick informed me) find the damn office, find someone to stamp my tickets, get out, find a cab that would take me back and make it back to the VFS center before 11am. Surprisingly enough, despite cranky cabbies, hidden photocopying joints and the internal maze of the Taj, I managed to get it all done and be back at the VFS center with time to spare! Super impressive if I do say so myself!

I found a seat in the now packed center and gave the VFS chick my Bruno stare. Bruno was our dog. Whenever he wanted something badly enough he would give you this fixed stare like he was trying really hard to telepathically communicate his needs to you, the slightly slow human who needed all the encouragement a patient dog could manage. So, getting back to VFS, there I was giving her my Bruno stare, she finished with the current duffer and then signaled me over. Ignoring the dirty looks of the other duffers around I went. Unlike them I'd been there since a quarter to frikkin nine. Everything was now in order and I was to come the next day to pick up the passports. At this point you'd think, Well that's it. But no! Like one of those tele shopping ads, " There's more!"

The next day, I sauntered forth with the visa fees burning a hole in my pocket. Stood in a line, the demented pigeon wasn't in evidence that day, got frisked, got my token, found a seat, pulled out my book and started reading. You're probably thinking, OK, things should be smooth now, just pick it up and done. But such was not the case. The place was packed, mostly travel agents once again. They really have the inside track on these things. They know all the tricks and the systems involved while the rest of us mere mortals keep doddering around trying to work our way through the seemingly unsolvable maze. So after cross checking the in's and out's of said system with a few of the knowledgeable sorts sitting next to me, I waited. The counter was at 64 and I was 77. Then suddenly it stopped moving. Blank looks were exchanged. People began to get a little antsy. The guy making his payment (you need to pay at one counter and then armed with the proof of your payment go to another counter and collect your passport) was still sitting at the counter looking lost. I must say I was pleasantly surprised at how well behaved those guys were. It may have had something to do with the fact that it was a really hot day and the waiting room was air conditioned, but even though more people kept coming in, and no new passports were handed out, no one made too loud a fuss. Nothing above muted whispers and the occasional grumble. Even the guy who'd just made his payment and was so close and yet so far from getting his passport!

15 minutes after this inaction, another employee walks out of the sanctum sanctorum and announces that the servers are down and that Indian IT team was in talks with the IT team of the concerned country and that they were trying to get the situation resolved as soon as possible, but that it would take a while. So anyone with anything else to do, please keep your tokens and shove off. Finish off your other stuff and come back by 6 in the evening. (I have tampered with the text just a little bit there, but that was the essence of what was said). I had nothing better to do so I stayed put. Two Thai girls who couldn't quite understand what was going on, asked me for a clarification and we got talking. The fellow on my left (Chinese blood but Indian citizenship and Indian accent) helped out by translating into Manadrin exactly what was happening. Needless to say, we all got to talking. There were some interesting views there. The Thai girls were studying in Pune and had been terrified when they first saw the paan stains on the buildings around them. They thought it was the blood left behind from multiple murders. The guy - Tony - and I had a really interesting discussion about different countries visa requirements, how foolish some of them are and how completely frustrating Dubai immigration can be. Apparently when he went there, they refused to believe that a Chinaman could possible have an Indian passport. Apparently he was vociferously interrogated by a battery of officials before he and his baggage were thoroughly searched. Apparently they were convinced he was a spy and merely wanted him to clear up the question of which country he was spying for. He was in fact in the gemstone business and has since sworn off Dubai and Arabs in general. 

In the middle of a discussion that was getting really interesting (we had moved on to particulars of China,  Chinese, the quality of government officials and the IQ level of a person going by the name 'Mr. Lee' who apparently sat in the sanctum sanctorum and was in Tony's opinion - a complete and total idiot), another employee walked out of that mysterious door and walked purposefully to the cash counter. Apparently after more than 3 hours they decided that they could do this manually. Yes because collecting cash, issuing a receipt and returning a bunch of passports, is so complicated that only the latest technology can be trusted to manage it. So he started and obviously no one knew what was going on because the idiot was talking into his chin. Well it all got sorted and just as things were starting to chug along, voila! the servers were up and running again! Some more time was wasted shifting from manual to online and things finally got a move on. Fortunately my turn came around, I paid, got the passports, checked them and everything was fine. Whew! Enough adventure for the week.

I tell you solemnly, I have never had to work so hard for a visa! This trip better be worth the bother. Lines, demented pigeons, a dash across the city, failed servers, cross country co-ordination of IT teams (I can just imagine how that went....given that it took over 3 hours to sort out it must have been a doozy)... whew... I needed a spot of RnR just to get over the prep for a period of RnR. Sometimes work is a quite restful by comparison.

 

Konkan adventures

Have you ever exposed a bone? If you have you'll know what I'm talking about. Bones are REALLY white! And not just a white sort of white but an almost translucent white. Freaky.

You may wonder how I came across this intriguing bit of trivia. It was during what was meant to be a relaxing train ride to Goa. I love taking the Mandovi Express to Goa, its a day train and when you have one of the side seats, you get a window all to yourself. So anyway, I got the train, settled into my seat and since it was at an ungodly hour in the morning, decided on a quick snooze. Woke up a few hours later and the guy on the upper berth wanted to sit and enjoy the window so we folded back the seat. He was in the extra large category so I had to fold my seat back as well because his knees kept bumping against it. That rotten turd of a fellow however failed to latch his seat back properly. Thus when said turd in human form got off way before Goa at around 12:30 there was no flabby bulk anchoring the seat in place. The train began to move forward slowly and as soon as it picked up speed the damn seat back crashed down on my leg.

It hurt but like all sudden injuries my nerves took a little time to process the full extent of the damage. My jeans were undamaged so I thought, "Phew, nothing major." Then I pulled up the leg of my jeans to check, fully expecting to see a colourful bruise starting. Imagine my shock when instead of a bruise, I see a good sized flap of skin scrunched down and a section of white showing with a little blood seeping around the edges.

I remeber my brain just coming to a halt right then. Immediately after that the strangest series of thoughts followed. This was the sequence;

1) Looks like a potato peel

2) Ugh this is going to hurt

3) Huh, would have thought there'd be more blood. Well good thing it isn't streaming down.

4) I'm going to need to clean this

5) This is going to hurt

6) What's that white stuff.... OH SHIT!!!! Is that my shin bone?

7) Don't faint, don't cry and for God's sake, DON'T PUKE!

Concentrating on not puking helped. With the extent of the injury having been fully processed, the pain hit full force. I took a few deep breaths, found one of the railway employees and asked him for a first aid kit. Note to all rail travellers: Konkan Railways has exactly one first aid kit that is kept in the pantry car (5 bogies away from the second A/C car that I was in), there is no doctor and the first aid kit only has Savlon, some not very clean cotton, some gauze and an assortment of tablets that didn't interest me at the time. The first aid kit is also very well guarded. I was not allowed access to it until I had conclusively proved that I was in dire need of it. That involved displaying my now oozing potato peel wound to about 8 different but very curious Konkan Railway employees all of whom needed to be involved in the process of unlocking the cabinet that the first aid kit was in.

So now I was allowed to sit in a small little three seat cabin of sorts in the pantry car with the senior most admin types on the train. Cleaned the wound with the cotton and Savlon available and looked around for some antiseptic and found that there was none. Still focussing on not puking, I must have looked rather helpless because one of the dudes sitting there asked me if I would like to use an ayurvedic antiseptic. Turns out he meant turmeric. Not the natural one, the powedered one that's used for cooking. By that time a good sized crowd of curious cooks and cleaners had gathered around checking out my leg and the cleaning. As soon as i agreed to the turmeric, one of the cooks materialised with the required turmeric and began smearing it on my already throbbing leg. The head honcho at my side then tells him "Theek say dabao!" and I was like, "Dabaya, dabaya! Usne kaafi dabaya aur mein to kaafi daard mein hoo! Baas ho gaya!" Bastards laughed at that! Like it was so funny. Sheesh.

No painkillers available so I trudged back to my seat, still focused on not puking. Called mum and hubby and told them about it. While they were appropriately concerned initially that didn't last very long. I tell you solemnly, with family like this who needs enemies? And that horrible creature that I married decided to terrify me even further by insisting that I would need stitches in addition to a tetanus shot. Dirty rotter. So anyway after much effort and even more pain I managed to rest my leg in a way that would ease my pain. By the way, small footnote here. The 4 people in the bunks next to me had kept their curtains tightly closed and didn't once come out to help even though they knew I was injured. How do I know that they knew? I asked them to take care of my handbag while I went to the loo and that's when they asked if I was alright now. Tell you solemnly... some people are just turds. There was one girl that I had struck up a conversation with when we were waiting for the train in Mumbai, as soon as she found out that I had been injured, she immediately came over to help, checked on me regularly and even helped me with my bags while getting off the train in Goa. See there always are some nice people among all those turds around.

So anyway reached Goa 5 hours later, mum was waiting with the car and we drove to a hospital in Panjim for some proper first aid. There were no stitches, there was a tetanus shot (that a week later still hurt) and there was a period best left forgotten when the dressing that had by then adhered to the potato peel. Ugh. It was a horrible week. A day after the new dressing was put on, I managed to sprain my neck and basically suffered for a while. But all in all the holiday was an excercise in the whole Balance of Life Theory.

Eitherway, I am SURE that my once white shin bone now has a spot of yellow turmeric on it... When archaeologists find my remains centuries from now, that yellow is going to flummox them like you wouldn't believe! Heehee....

Cry Havoc and unleash the Dogs of War!!!

I am so done conforming! From now on my life shall be lived on my own terms. As the saying goes, I started close to home... or more accurately, at home! I love my husband but the man does occasionally tap dance on my very last nerve, if you know what I mean. He's a fabulous person, but... he is a hoarder. He has carted around the same restaurant receipts, bank statements and telephone bills to three different houses! That's junk that hasn't been chucked out for more than 5 years!!! I mean I remember the days when I could pack my entire life into 2 bags and shift enmasse. Our last shift needed 2 freaking TRUCKS!!!!!!! Granted we had furniture, but STILL?!? TWO TRUCKS???? When did we get so much junk? When did we have the time? GAAAAAAAHHHH !!!!!!

So after months of nagging had barely any effect whatsoever, I decided it was time to cry havoc and unleash the dogs of war! Translation, I went on a de-junking spree. A spree of a magnitude so deadly and so terrifying that my loving husband turned into a protective tigress when his National Geographic and Lonely Planet magazines were threatened. As a sacrifice to the fire breathing bull dozer that I had become, he gave up his TravelPlus magazine collection. A solid one foot high pile. It pleased me.... for the time being.

5 days and about 20 bags later I have discovered 5 travel bags that I had no idea existed, rediscovered 2 backpacks, have a clear desk, can get to my printer without first excavating it from beneath tonnes of junk and have a remarkable amount of space that I can now work in. the Kim is pleased. The dogs of war have been leashed and all is right with the world again.

I now plan to apply the same tactic to everything else I do. No more junk, no more baggage. If something is of no use, out it goes. That includes people who piss me off. From now on it's my opinion that matters (and that of my better half - as long as it doesn't include collecting more junk).

On the job front, I plan a drastic career shift. I've been talking to senior folk across the spectrum and I now have a plan. I shall be ruthless in the pursuit of my goals. Hell if I could study for my GMAT, apply to colleges all on my own and clear out 5 years of accumulated junk, I think I am justified in saying that I will be able to tackle pretty much anything thrown my way. All I need is a viable plan, a strategy and once the battle lines have been drawn, unleash the dogs of war! ("Dogs of war" has to be said in a very Jeremy Clarkeson manner). I've always loved dogs, especially unleashed ones. They always spice things up. From now on, I am who I am and your approval is not needed! 

Oy vey!!!

I’ve been off the grid for a while now. A whole fork in the road/career shift/re-evaluation of priorities type of situation kept me busy. A little back story here... Alchemy shut down in June 2011. The next month was spent trying to get the team placed and negotiate a takeover with the help of a couple of buyers. Although most of the team did get placed eventually, the buy-out negotiations fell through and Alchemy ended up being taken over sans its sales, research and dealing teams. A few rejoined under the new management, a few walked. Either way I decided this was it for me in sales. NO MORE. I had spent enough of time and energy in a profile I didn’t like, the money was fun but that was about it. Being diagnosed as insulin resistant a bare fortnight before the company closed also tipped the scales against getting back into sales. So although I did attend several interviews that my bosses and a bunch of well meaning consultants set up for me, my heart wasn’t in any of them. While the sudden cessation of a very fat salary was scary, listening to my interviewers drone on about what they felt Alchemy did wrong and how they would do it right, despite their glaring lack of empanelment’s, just made me feel incredibly tired. I was nearing 30, had spent the previous 6 odd years doing something that brought me no joy, was sitting on a ticking time bomb of a stress related medical condition and was looking at two options, quit now or struggle on and risk being one of the masses to be caught in the retrenchments to come. I chose the former, naively thinking that shifting careers while difficult would not be impossible. Serves me right for forgetting the teachings of Scott Adams!

I have to say here that although I hated being a sales woman, my clients were a godsend. The moment Alchemy announced its closure a gratifyingly large number of them rallied around me offering advice, support and most importantly contacts. The first thing I did was have a session with one of my ‘mentors’  his advice was first figure out what you want to do and then decide how to go about doing it. So to figure out what I wanted to do I spoke to a number of stalwarts in various industries about various job profiles. I used family contacts, client contacts and Linkedin. Other than learning about what various jobs entail and even trying out one alternative, I also got an insight into sheer stupidity that is rampant in the whole recruitment process in corporate India.

First off, everyone wants to hire young minds that can be easily moulded. All that crap about being hungry and being foolish... yeah riiight, I’d like to see clients responding to a hungry and foolish sales or research team. I remember my hungry and foolish days, let me tell you, being hungry and foolish didn’t bring in squat. It was experience that got me client support and therefore deals, big deals that then got me money. Second is the whole lateral move. If you are moving from industry into financial services that’s good. You can become a sector specialist of sorts. If you’re trying the reverse, you have to do an MBA or an EMBA because, and I have this on good authority from several sources, “Recruiters don’t know how to fit you into the existing structure if you come to them as a lateral.” Apparently ‘recruiters’ will poach from their competitors or hire from a B-School campus. Hiring from any other source will cause the universe to implode. Third... and this one left me speechless... although you may have the skill set required by a particular profile but may need a basic amount of training, NO ONE IS WILLING TO GIVE IT TO YOU UNLESS YOU ARE HIRED FROM A B-SCHOOL CAMPUS!?!?! I don’t know about you but when I heard that I was stunned. Are you freakin serious? So over-hiring, offering crazy salary hikes and fabulous packages is fine when the goings good, but let the business cycle turn down and suddenly those must have hires are too expensive and low cost resources are needed, fat needs to be trimmed, belt tightening etc, etc.

Here’s an idea, how about planning your resource requirement? No matter how hard you pray, you cannot do away with downturns. They will come. So instead of alternating between binge hiring and downturn bulimia, here’s a novel idea. Hire talented people. When things are good, don’t hire more, make do with what you have or hire sparingly if absolutely necessary. When the inevitable downturn comes around, here’s a novel idea.... instead of retrenching people, retrain them for different positions within the company. Perhaps offer employees an option to do career assessment tests to find their ideal ‘fit’, perhaps even offer them a chance to take a year off to study or train and come back. There are companies that offer this in limited quantities, like the IT firms, most of the PSU companies, heck even LIC. In the overall scheme of things, it’s a minority that leave and move to higher paying jobs, a number of extremely capable people stick around and make it to the top and go on to do great things for the company.

To my knowledge no one has patented this idea, yet it’s just a handful of companies that actually practice it. And even they have the established ‘recruitment’ systems in place. I find this whole thing totally daft. I mean doesn’t anyone realise that stupid s*** like this doesn’t engender loyalty at all? You have an entire mass of talent that doesn’t stay in the same company because they are either convinced that they will get better increments by joining the competition or that sooner or later they will find themselves retrenched.

Quite frankly in the last 4 years, I haven’t come across a single Indian who thought beyond the next 5 years. For some even 5 was a stretch. My clients abroad were a whole other story. The attrition in India baffled them so much that they began favouring foreign brokers over local brokers when dealing in India because the foreign teams were so much more stable. Don’t Indian bosses realise that they’re losing business because of this foolishness? I mean is planning for the long term, training your staff, recruiting internally, allowing internal shifts... is it so debilitating that it cannot be implemented anywhere? Heck, forget about the training for the time being, how about long term planning for a start?

Yikes

So I'm sitting here at Goa Airport and there's this movie on Zee Cinema, muted ofcourse. I can't for the life of me figure out what the heck is going on but I have to admit, it's absolutely fascinating. I have no idea what the story line is. No idea who the protagonists are, can't for the life of me recognise any of the actors..... But man, the visuals I do see are so weird I honestly can't look away.
When I started watching it, there was this bare chested, long haired dude, slightly flabby but with the required beefiness. Somehow, he ended up in ice. Not on ice but in it. Don't ask. And he explodes out of the ice. So there's this beefy bloke lying prone on the floor and there are these chunks of ice strewn around him. Then this other guy, who looks like a cop of sorts, (still haven't figured out if he is or isn't) and he first acts surprised to see shirtless guy there, then shirtless guy regains conciousness and is shivering. They have words. Then possible cop guy starts kicking shirtless guy's arse and suddenly shirtless guy goes from a beefy wimp into one of those arch villian, indestructible rajnikant types. A few seconds later he morphs back. The possible cop guy also alternates between being terrified of the arch villian and beating up the wimp. Then a third dude comes in from somewhere and this totally improbable fight scene starts up.
Around this point I got bored and looked away. When I looked back there was this whole independence day thing on, with a whole bunch of cops, the requisite bunch of cute but dim kids, the constipated elder males and a woman with old lady make up and a white sari with a red border. She may have been a widow or just a highly respected epitome of womanhood, I really don't know. So now with this whole independence day celebration going on, there's this young cop going all rockstar on a santoor, some random kid spinning in slow motion and the epitome of woman hood looking fondly on. Womanhood then starts to sing and the elders start looking even more constipated and the camera pans to various pictures of Indies Gandhi and the Indian flag and then goes back to the constipated elders. I got bored again. The next time there was a tableau of one woman in a green sari, two guys in pantyhose face masks, and a 'baddie' with glasses, a black shirt and a white waist coat. Baddie is holding a machine gun and shoots another dude running towards him holding another gun. The fellow gets shot in the armpit of all things and dies. Evil guy laughs his evil laugh.
Unfair I think. You may be an extra but that doesn't mean he has to die of an armpit shot. And that too on the right side. Sheesh.....
Now they're at a hospital. Lots of people running around outside, constipated elder shoving a really geeky looking doctor around.
I give up. I have absolutely no idea what's going on. Where is the schitzofrenic arch villian? Very confusing. Oooh I just saw Nassiruddin Shah. He's in jail. Where did he come from? What's going on? This must have started out a big budget independence day blockbuster. Still not sure what they were aiming for though. I'm still as confused ad ever.

Unrest at the Bottom of the Pyramid

Just the other day, I was a hapless but captive audience for a rather loquatious taxi driver. After breaking the ice, commenting on my destination and how it along with a couple other places in the vicinity were regular drop off points for all cabbies in the area, he proceeded to launch into his main theme. The Government. According to him, we are as badly off or a little worse off than we were under the British. The oppressed masses are as miserable as they were earlier, the same governments(individuals) keep coming to power and merrily looting the country. If you're in power or close to it you will have money. The industralists will support anyone in power. Babus are in the best position though. As inflation and the cost of living rise, so too do their requirements. Where Rs50 used to be sufficient, one now needs Rs500. Who suffers? Why the masses ofcourse! Taxi drivers and their passengers. He then went on to the whole Maharashtra for the Maharashtrians school of thought. Maharashtra without Mumbai is poorer than the badlands of UP. He spoke about this Police inspector that he once had as a passenger, who asked him why he didn't stay in his home town in UP and do something. Why did he have to come to Mumbai taking away from the Maharashtrian Manoos. My cabbi's reply was something along the lines of "Mumbai is not the only place in Maharashtra. Instead of stopping people from coming here and working, why don't Maharashtrian politicians spend more time developing the rest of Maharashtra giving the rest of the Maharashtrians a better life. Why are farmers in eastern Mahashtra killing themselves and why are Maharashtrians starving in the interiors of Maharashtra? Is Mumbai the only place that needs ministers, babus and laws?" That ofcourse took him to his primary issue which was the Brahmin rule. BJP or Congress, they're a bunch of Brahmins bleeding the country dry. Through the ages Brahmins didn't have to work. If you were born Brahmin, you had a license to live off everyone else's effort but you still had all the power. When we won our independence it was with educated leaders. Then Nehru and his successors (Brahmins) took over and the whole country went down. They made sure the Brahmins continued to make money doing nothing more strenuous than sitting on their collective asses, while the Kshatrias did their bit to keep them in power and keep the rest of the populace in their place. I tried pointing out that it was the same downtrodden masses that insisted on voting the same brahmins into power and that got me another volley of fluent hindi telling me that the masses were coerced into voting a certain way and those that were free, didn't vote. We were closing in on my destination, so I asked him what was the solution to all this. Their time is coming to an end, was his answer. The Brahmins may call it Kalyug, but their time is up. They have misused their position for too long and have become far too arrogant. They will fall. Just you wait and see.
This guy isn't a one-off case. Its the fourth or fifth time someone has said something like this to me after the middle east started to burn. A change will come. The masses will rise up against the corrupt government. My question is, what then? You bring down the existing government and then what? Who or what fills in the void left in the system? It's very easy to point out defects in the existing system. What are we to do about it? If not one of Sonia's puppets who then will lead the country? Will the group that controls this great economic powerhouse, this emerging behemoth, this market of a billion plus consumers... Will they choose to clean up a rotting system, or will they succomb to the lure of easy pickings and lap up what's offered, leaving the bottom of the pyramid exactly where it is? Or will we have nation wide riots like in the middle east with the country descending down an exceedingly slippery path into mayhem and anarchy? While I hope not, my taxi driver seems convinced that a war is headed towards us. And this one will not be religious. It will be between the castes.

Of Bugs and Superbugs

I absolutely detest taking antibiotics. So today when I read about the WHO getting all hot and bothered that the misuse of antibiotics in humans and animals was leading to the emergence of superbugs and strains of resistant germs, I went “HAH!” Not the evil scientist “BWAHAHAHAHA!” or the snide trouble maker’s “snicker snicker” but more of a relieved, ‘you can’t hurt me any more’ with a dab of ‘up yours’ thrown for good measure kind of ‘HAH’. Let me give you a bit of background here.

When I was ye high (approximately a foot and a half in my socks) I got the runs i.e. Dysentery. Now as I have only the foggiest memory of that period in my life, I rely on third party info here. Sources being my mum and various other family members. Long story short, the family doctor nearly killed me with an overdose of antibiotics, a child specialist was then brought in and I was cured but apparently the antibiotics damaged my immunity system so badly that I stayed very vulnerable to any and every disease in the vicinity. A shift to the clean air of Goa helped, but coming back to Bombay, now Mumbai, now even more polluted, brought on all sorts of new crap.

I have been on a variety of antibiotics and even one biopsy (DO NOT get me started on that). I’ve noticed that the young guns are usually the ones who make my sicker while the old guys who accept that allopathy does not have all the answers are actually the ones who cure you. My favorites though are those old doctors with tiny clinics and compounders who give out little packets of multi-coloured tablets in different shapes and sizes and detailed instructions on when to take what. I’ve noticed they always cure me. After about five years of messing around with different doctors/quacks  I have finally shortlisted one gastric surgeon, one orthopedist, one dentist and one ENT. I still need to find one skin specialist, one optometrist, one gynac and most importantly one GP.

The benefits of my gruesome experience:

• Avoid Doctors with degrees from posh sounding institutes.
• Avoid Doctors who use a lot of new fangled equipment. They are usually too reliant on machines rather than instinct.
• Avoid Doctors who sit in well done up clinics. The posher the clinic the higher the overheads therefore the longer your treatment will take. If he has overheads to worry about, then curing you will not be cost effective. He’s going to take you for all you’ve got.
• Stick with the older generation doctors with smaller, dingier clinics. They tend to cure you and send you off. They haven’t got into the habit of treating patients like ATM machines. A quick trick to identify them, when you walk into their clinics and see files piled haphazardly in corners and various knickknacks shoved into cubby holes around, you’re safe. This guy has been around for a while. If it’s a pristine clinic, with teak furnishings, polished equipment… run away!
• Talk to your Doctor, if he acknowledges the impact of stress and a need for a healthier style of living, or if he just tells you to stop being a baby and get on with it, you know you have a gem. Never let him go!
• And most importantly, get referrals from people who have been living in the same area for years. They usually know the best doctors because they’ve been to them over the years. Beware of the hypochondriacs though. You don’t want a doctor who encourages that.

Expecting diseases to stay put just because the medical/pharmaceutical fraternity hasn’t been able to catch up is stupid. Diseases will evolve. Popping stronger pills will only give you an ulcer. Running to a doctor will probably just make you broke and ill. So get your priorities straight and enjoy till your time comes. And in the mean while, keep a little black book of doctors. Who knows when a superbug might get you.

16,324 hours and counting...

Today is an anniversary of sorts. I have finished 6 years in my current role. In that time I have developed severe acidity, gained 10 kilos, seen my salary multiply several times over and been given the title of Vice President. 6 years = 312 weeks = 1,484 days (6 dayweeks for 2 years + 5 day weeks for 4 years – 30 days holidays a year) = 16,324 hours spent working in the markets and 4,272 hours spent commuting to work and back. That’s a grand total of 20,596 hours that I have dedicated to my job (and this doesn't include the leave sacrificed).

Was it worth it? I don’t know. Unlike most, I didn’t start out as an analyst or as a trader. I started out as a saleswoman for key domestic institutions. Those institutions are still the most sought after for practically every salesperson. I’ve witnessed every circuit in the market and seen crazy crashes and crazier rallies. I’ve seen the Sensex swing 2500 points in a single trading session (and this was in 2006! The base was a lot smaller), I’ve seen the market fall 13% in a day and trading continue, I’ve seen liquidity dry up and later flood the market… sixteen thousand hours covers a lot!

Here are a few things I’ve picked up along the way;

On Markets and Investing

• A mega IPO usually marks the peak of the market – Reliance Petroleum in 2006, Reliance Power in 2008 and Coal India in 2010.
• A full investment banking pipeline always indicates the beginning of a buying frenzy.
• Over a long period of time, trading does not make you big money, investing does. The only people who make money trading are the dedicated traders, and that too only for a limited period of time. It is the investors that make the truly astronomical amounts and the investors who survive downturns.
• Markets will fall. There is no such thing as a perpetual bull run. Everything reverts to the mean. Every business has its cycle.
• Takey our profits off the table. Ideally try and bring your portfolio cost down to zero.
• A falling market has no support and a rising market has no resistance.
• Never trust anyone forcing a tip on you. Chances are they're stuck in a position and want an exit or want company.
• You will never make money on everything that you are invested in. Some will fall, some will be flat and only a small handful will rise. If all are rising, it means the market is overheating and you should exit while you still have the chance.
• There is a HUGE difference between speculation and investment. Decide which one you want and stick with it. Ideally invest the majority of your money and trade with a small portion. Take trading profits off the table and invest them.
• Buy at the point of maximum pessimism. Go contrarian and make a significant bet. Loosely translated it means thumb your nose at your colleagues and Udyan Mukherjee, gather all your money together and buy Buy BUY!!!!!
• No matter what Warren Buffet and his minions say, the market ALWAYS knows. Playthe trend.
• No matter how strong the India story, a global meltdown will wipe out all returns. Therefore diversify your investments out of the equity markets.
• Never trust an emotional call. Numbers don’t lie. Cash doesn’t lie.
• Behavioral Finance is possibly the most underappreciated branch of Finance. Study it.
• Trends can and frequently do change overnight. Don’t fall in love with a trend, it’s not going to stay. Abandon and move on. The financial markets take the laws of survival to a whole new level.
• Read. As much as you can, whenever and wherever you can. The information always helps.
• Remember that whatever happens, the system will always be salvaged.

On Stocks

• Governments lie, managements lie and analysts don’t have all the answers or all necessary information.
• Estimatesfollow the market.
• Valuations are relative. Steady earnings growth and growing order books are extremely important. Always watch the reserves.
• Never average your losses unless you know something everyone else doesn't. Otherwise sell your losers and hold onto your winners. Be disciplined with your stop losses.
• When picking a stock to invest in look at the debt levels, the cash flows, the dividend payment history, the capital expenditure, the return on capital employed and management quality. The party boys never make you any money.
• Bewary of how much you pay.
• Never buy something that has been running up for 3 consecutive days. Price graphs steeper than a 45 degree angle will reverse quickly and viciously.

On Work

• A good boss and a great team are generally mutually exclusive. Get used to it.
• Today’s kings are often tomorrow’s beggars. Be nice to the people around you. It’s not worth it making enemies.
• Weasels always survive, except in fairy tales.
• Don’t try breaking into existing cliques. It usually ends in pain. Be yourself and your clique will find you.
• Reply All is dangerous. Consider the consequences before clicking it.
• Always double check before sending.
• Always carry a notebook into meetings, no matter how irrelevant you think the discussions are.
• Take notes. Important details are often forgotten.
• Make sure all your bosses know that you treat them equally. Be very aware of the political affiliations around you. Treat your colleagues and bosses like your clients.
• Have a life outside the office. Stay in touch with old friends. They keep yougrounded.
• Stay focused and be careful what you sacrifice.

Of Weasels and Eagles

After much pain and frustration I think I have learnt the secret to success at work. I wouldn’t recommend this for anything other than work. If someone associated with my personal life acted like this, I would slap them. Hard.

There are a couple of sayings that kind of sum up what I’m getting at. “Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.” “Life is divided into the horrible and the miserable” While the former is what happens, the latter is what one should live by. Helps keep the disappointment at a minimum.

There’s a reason why ‘passionate’ is never used to describe veterans. Increased exposure to the rest of humanity isn’t pretty. As someone else put it, “Never underestimate the power of very stupid people in large groups” or in management for that matter. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never worked in a ‘fun job’ but I’ve always noticed that the ones that last in most companies are usually the weasels. Don’t get me wrong, some of them are really a lot of fun, but they still qualify for the term “weasel”. There are some who’ve elevated it to an art form. Being the enlightened few, they’ve figured out early exactly what will happen to them if they show the least sign of initiative or creativity. It’s like that arcade game with the moles and the hammer. Every time a mole pop’s it’s head up, you whack it with the hammer. In real life Pavlov’s theory would kick in but in the game the moles being the suckers for punishment that they are, keep popping up even faster. Give them a brain and the game would be over in one maybe two rounds. Self preservation is a wonderful thing.

I guess middle management's whole role is to drain the life force out of everyone under their command.  From their attitude, to their procedures, to the colour of paint on their walls! A happy, motivated, creative work force might be poached by competitors, is expensive to retain and is a constant threat to senior management's jobs. But a disillusioned, de-motivated, manic-depressive work force... well, that's just perfect isn't it? Low maintainence, easy to control and sometimes it's as effective a means of destruction of competition as a biological weapon. Nuclear weapons and poisonous gasses have nothing on a depressing, demotivated, complaining colleagues. They can, and I speak from bitter experience, suck the life out of you far more effectively than anything else on this earth. Just think about it from management's perspective for a minute. Depressed and demotivated employees don't drain depratment budgets, it's the happy, high performers that do. Lower pay outs to employees means more money left over! And misery loves company, so wherever they go, it's not happiness and cheer that they're spreading! Like the demetors of Azkaban they will suck out every happy, creative thought from their colleagues wherever they go. Possibly even play such distructive politics that competing teams are thoroughly destroyed! BWAHAHAHAHA!!! What more would anyone want? You're managing well within your budget and your competitor is in shambles! You da Man!

So the secret to success, as I see it, is to keep your head down and do your work and have faith in the essential pettiness that is a large part of any and every employee. Understand here, that there is a very BIG difference between the entrepreneurs that have risked a lot to build what they have and the employees that have piggy backed on that success always ensuring that their respective rear ends have been adequately covered. Always remember, every moment is the dawn of a new error, and when mistakes have been made, someone will get blamed. Do your level best to make sure you have an air tight alibi when that happens. And last but not least, eye-contact is a double edged sword. If you don’t have the bulk to intimidate a pestilential superior, don’t risk the eye-contact. The pettier the opponent, the more likely they are to consider it a threat, or worse! In other words, keep your nose clean and stay below everyone's radar. It's tougher than it looks...

Once again, anyone attempting outside work isn't going to get you very far.

Scandals galore.....

This has been a thrilling couple of months. It's like an early Christmas for the CBI. Seriously if it was a private organisation, I'd be tempted to say it was appraisal time! 4 scams in 2 months! And if the squawk box is to be believed, there are a few more to come. We're literally seeing that whole 'opening a can of worms' scenario playing out. Arrests have been made, leads are being followed and summons being sent left right and centre - with more to come. Unfortunately nothing ever concludes. In the last couple of months we've had the CWG scam, the 2G scam, the MFI scam, the Nira Radia tapes and now the Bribery and Corruption scam. Today the environment ministry jumped on the media bandwagon and have issued show cause notices to 3 listed corporates who summarily tanked! Whole different can of worms there....Now the cases go to court and we wait a couple of decades before the courts decided to

a) let the accused off on bail 

b) fine them a fraction of what they took 

c) throw out the case on a technicality

d) adjourn it further

Pretty standard stuff. Of course no one's really going to bother covering it after a while because something newer and shinier will be there to distract the fourth estate and its avid viewers. Maybe Pamela Anderson will come back to the Big Boss household....you never know.... Other than a passing mention on the 2G scandal, there's been a deafening silence on the MFI mess, the Nira Radia tapes and the CWG scam.

Funnily enough, in the larger scheme of things, the bribery scandal isn't as damaging as the 2G or CWG scams, and certainly no where near as shocking as the Nira Radia tapes. Everyone knows a little something-something flows back. Elemental physics when dealing with liquidity in the real world. What really cracks me up though are the amounts mentioned. Quite frankly they aren't even enough to buy a house in Mumbai! I mean seriously! Roti, kapda and makaan.... well food inflation, September, October and November rains coupled with a severe lack of storage facilities is going to make the roti (and rice) rather pricey, zooming cotton prices and a lively cotton futures market is going to make the kapda expensive and makaan....? Heck don't even get me started on that. Frankly the amounts mentioned might just help them out with the down payment. I'm not condoning it, I'm just saying that the practice of 'chai paani' has been around a lot longer than the bull market. As long as prices keep rising and pensions remain uncertain, people will do their level best to make as much money as they possibly can. Its a self preservation thing. Once you're out of a position of power the law of the jungle takes over. Best plan for that bleak timewhile you still can. We've all seen hockey and athletic stars end up in menial jobs struggling to make their next meal. India is not kind to the weak, the sick or the old. If you're not healthy and rich, you're probably better off dead.

And how could I forget my namesake in North Korea who's happily lobbing everything but the kitchen sink at the South Koreans. They in turn aren't entirely sure what to do about it. Its recession time after all, one must be practical. So you saw the immediate retaliation followed by a flurry of meetings and press conferences. With practically every potential ally struggling to pay their country's debts, they're looking quite lonely out there. Although an all out war is a worry, lets be practical about this. Who's got the cash to afford a war with a megalomaniac dictator? Not such a bright idea now, is it? One needs allies, and right now the allies are rather concerned about whether or not to pull out the old begging bowl. So now Korea has a choice. Does it give in to its baser self and return the favor with interest or does it do the 'right' thing and call for a mediator, go crying to various international agencies blah, blah, blah. Kinda hard to fight fair when your opponent has no such qualms. Oh the price of conformity.....

Good times ahead. Quite the reverse of the calm consolidation that prevailed during my last post. Such fun not knowing what the heck's gonna hit tomorrow. Adios....

The Empty Stomach Theory

Today was such an awesome day... absolutely nothing interesting happened. Yesterday was somewhat similar, so was the day before that and the ones before that. We have been wallowing in peace and serenity, calm consolidating markets, low leverage and very little to seriously trouble us. Granted there are all sorts of terrifying things looming somewhere around the horizon, but we're Genext! We live for today...who cares about something as murky as European debt? It's Europe! It doens't affect India! We have a consumption story!!! Yeah right! Sound familiar? Sub-Prime wasn't an Indian problem either....

Anyhow, it got me thinking about life in general and I realised, looking back, the best examples of art, science, music etc etc were all borne out of economic despair... Recessions forced people to think and innovate and people responded by coming out with some pretty snazzy stuff! Innovate or starve. Apparently depression, panic and an empty stomach is a killer combination for a successful product... provided of course you manage to take care of that whole 'appreciated in this lifetime' bit... what's the point of living in poverty and being a posthumous multimillionaire...Life may be a gift from God but I'd like to enjoy my gains (ill gotten or otherwise) while I can thank you very much! Once I pop off, they ain't coming with me.

Now push that thought a little further. Let's look at the concept of Heaven and Hell. According to all we hear, at least the Catholic/Christian versions, Heaven is a place of peace and goodwill with angels playing their heavenly music and the Lord watching beningly over us. Hell on the other hand is hot and has the whole 'burn for all eternity' thing, fire and brimstone, purgatory, eternal torment of the soul... blah blah blah.

Now taking the 'Empty Stomach Theory' and stretching it to Heaven and Hell, I think Hell might just be a tad more interesting. Consider for a moment. Heaven is full of rewards for years of agony and struggle. But what do you do once you're there? Play the harp? Spend your days sipping milk and honey? I doubt anyone will be allowed free speech, hobbies or competitions in Heaven. Just see how much conflict they cause here on Earth! So you basically do nothing to mar/wrinkle/disturb the Heavenly atmosphere. That would be bad for business. I'm guessing religious types and gospel singers go straight there.

Now Hell on the other hand would have all the crazies from Earth. From my point of view, along with the murderers and other assorted bad types, you would also find the blasphemous comedians, rock stars, artists that scandalised the establishment, other religions that God didn't approve of... in short a large number of people. All of them in eternal suffering and torment.... According to the Empty Stomach Theory, this is the ideal recepie for creativity of no mean order! I mean financial products extrodinare, music like you've never heard, art like you've never seen, plays like you've never imagines... creativity unleashed. Sounds like an interesting place doesn't it?

Don't know about you but it definitely makes me rethink a few ''absolutes''... primarily that there might just have been a few translation errors in the early Christian versions... the errors seem to have continued through all subsequent upgrades. Chances are Heaven and God aren't as boring as the holier than thou types have painted it. I mean how often have you come across situations where the peons are way more stuck up than the CEO himself? Chances are we're spending all our time toeing the line of the minions when the big cahoona is actually quite chilled out. Hah! Funny thought! Imagine if Heaven is just one big beach party and all those puritians end up there find out they spent their entire lives condemning what was actually God's work! And if Heaven is one big party then what is Hell? Exam season! Ugh! The word still gives me the jitters. Even worse, an exam of a subject that you didn't study for and you woke up and ended up in the exam hall in your underwear! Every student's worst nightmare! Though in all honesty I have studied for the wrong exam on occasion.

So in conclusion. The Empty Stomach Theory makes life interesting. When faced with an empty bowl, think out of the bowl. If that doesn't work, turn it over and come up with a drum solo. And existing theory vis a vis entry requirements for Heaven and Hell has some holes. Just like the whole "The Earth is Flat" theory was disproves, so too will this. So live free and die in peace!

When time is NOT of the essence.....

We went to God's own country for the long weekend, it being the monsoons, there was a considerable amount of precipitation of varying intensities. There is something very relaxing about Kerala. That is until you're starving and the waiters in the restaurant couldn't be bothered about serving you. You could argue that it's all about savoring the moment and so on and so forth.... But when one is hungry, one needs something other than paper thin papads drenched in oil and pink water. Yes, I kid you not! For some thoroughly unfathomable reason the water served is pink! What is with that? It doesn't taste funny but ... It's PINK!!! Somehow I don't really see hefty mundu clad, heavily mustaschio'd mallus waggling their beefy fingers at each other and drinking pink water! Well enough of that! Moral of that story.... Make sure the head waiter can see you at all times.... That or always carry your own banana leaf when hungry in Kerala... Apparently that's the green signal for the rest of the minions to start serving you.

So then we proceeded to the Taj Garden Retreat in Kumarakom. Nice place, really great staff, as usual the women have these freakeshly perfectly draped cotton saris.... I just can't get how they do it! I'd need a couple of hours and at least four saris before I could manage anything remotely close to what she achieved.

Now when in Kumarakom, do not expect high excitement and extreme sports.... You want high adventure go stand up in a paddle boat and tip the whole thing over....for extreme sports, do the same thing in a motor boat. Guaranteed adrenaline rush. Beyond that, it's the very antithesis of Mumbai and the stock market. Slow ponderous house boats, two hour long meals, gardens and waterfalls with convenient benches so can just sit around doing absolutely nothing, brilliantly colored sunsets (no sunrises though). If anyone tries to convince you to go bird watching, I recommend laughing loudly and sarcastically in said person's face. Frankly, we saw more birds, both exotic and regular in the hotel gardens than in the 'sanctuary'. In fact whatever birds we did see in said 'sanctuary' were on trees that were in the hotel garden! If however you enjoy 6 kilometer trecks at freakish hours of the morning, then by all means go. It's a nice trek and no leeches because the place has both fresh and salt water at different times in the year.... There are monkeys though.

Vembanand is their big lake, second largest in the country after Chilika in Orissa. Lots of water plants floating around, with birds hitching rides on some of the larger clumps. Needless to say that speed ain't of the least essence. Very calming and needless to say the commerce of the area pretty much relies on that water body. I worry about the impact of all those houseboats, cruises and motorboats on the lake. The discarded water and cola bottles, junk food packets and the occasional wine bottle are noticible. But all in all, it is calming. The iffy cell phone signal also helps... A lot! I wouldn't recommend taking the 'lake cruise'. It's a half hour thing with the boat going 15 minutes in one direction and then turning back. Waste of time in my opinion although when we went on it the weather wasn't the calmest and there was this one idiot zipping around the back armed with his camera. Everytime he zipped to one side, the boat listed with him. If that wasn't enough, he then decided to lean over one side...of a moving boat! In the middle of the second largest lake in the country. We didn't tip over, but had one of the crew not yanked him back, I would have happily helped him over the side. I shudder to think of the strains he'll be introducing into the human gene pool..... yikes!

Today we checked out of the hotel and into a house boat. Word of advice, when shifting from a nice comfy hotel to a houseboat, whack the toiletries. Houseboat operators don't particularly care about the bathrooms and their accessories. I guess you can't really blame them. Having a working bathroom itself should be considered a luxury... At least you don't have to aim over the side! We got ourselves booked on the Gold River Houseboat. Nice clean place, very nice crew, a horn that sounds like it was stolen off a Tata Ace, three neat bedrooms with attached bathrooms and the coziest little seating space upfront that I have ever seen..... Heaven!

Today's a nice calm day, so I am hopeful that I won't be getting seasick on this trip. The roads, by the way, are awful!

By the by, if you do decide to go for the whole houseboat experience, make sure you pay special attention to the reversing technique being used by your boatman! There's a reason why the sides of most houseboat roofs are a touch raggedy....

My goals for the weekend were to manage to enjoy a proper Kerala coconut and malai. While the hotels will give you the coconut water they studiously avoid all mention of the malai.... I want it... and i never get it. Problem is that I get car sick so stopping on the way and downing one is out of the question. My hubby may love me but I think puking all over him will push the bounds of the whole 'in sickness and in health' concept. If ur not sure of the risks don't make the attempt. Anyhoo, we got the coconuts, and attached malai... woohoo...the food that the crew cooked for us on the boat was yum! The stomach upset that followed wasn't so awesome but still... totally worth it.

As a nice relaxing break, no work, no stress.... Kumarakom totally fits the bill!

The Age of Kalyug

The other day the Supreme Court ruled that narco, polygraph or brain mapping tests cannot be conducted on anyone without their consent. Lawyers and activists are overjoyed about this…. I don’t see the victims mentioned anywhere. In fact in one article a Lawyer was quoted saying that Narco tests are ‘simply unconstitutional and the Supreme Court has upheld the law.’ It seems that Chief Justice KG Balakrishnan and Justices R.V. Raveendran and J.M. Panchal described the forcible administration of these tests as an "unwarranted intrusion of the personal liberty" of a person accused of an offence. So what does that make murder, rape and assault? But we are civilized and therefore must protect the evil and allow the law of the jungle to decide the fate of the weak and the non media savvy.

It’s almost as if breaking the law is what is required for the system to take care of you. Think about it for a minute. You murder/rape/rob somebody and get caught by the cops. Now, please note, the rest of this hypothesis is based on the assumption that you or your act is high profile enough to generate sufficient media coverage, thereby drawing activists by the dozen. Petty crime will just get you slapped around. Activists aren’t attracted to events that won’t get them air time…. It just isn’t sexy enough… what in the world would they tell their Page 3 friends about? It’s such a waste of time if all your effort isn’t actively followed by thousands if not millions of people. So now assuming sufficient media coverage is available, the cops having caught you, are now under the media microscope and cannot so much as fart without some activist or the other screaming bloody murder – or in this case police brutality through excessive flatulence. So thanks to the many varied rulings of various courts that protect the accused, you are safe, well fed, mildly uncomfortable because of the ‘awful’ conditions in the jail (which is well maintained and regularly cleaned – quite an upgrade from the slums and abject poverty that most Indians live in) and as your court case will go on for years if not decades, you can maintain status quo ad infinitum. Of course there is the inconvenience of that sojourn being mentioned on your record and possibly affecting your employability, but then again the system being what it is, it probably won’t be too difficult to circumvent that as well. So now you’re in a nice settled routine and its time for the courts to give their verdict. If it goes against you, you appeal. Voila! Another decade spent in ashram like conditions. The law is absolute, while justice is relative…

If however you’ve been acquitted, well then, you’re in a bit of a quandary. If you want to stay you could just go right out and murder/rape/rob some other random character and go right back into the slammer for another decade…. Or… you could write a book about how you were wrongly incarcerated and had to suffer the ignominy of being in Jail! Missing out on the important things that signify freedom… like worrying about losing your job, struggling to keep said job, paying off a home loan, being able to afford a home, worrying about your next pay check or bonus, worrying about someone younger and better taking over your job…. Yeah…. Best seller material… stuff that the Page 3 types just lap up by the gallon. Nothing sells like misery. Even if it’s the story of a blood thirsty killer. In today’s convoluted system, its better to be unscrupulous and evil than it is to be god fearing and law abiding. Heck instead of spending thousands on a trip to the Himalayas, just bump off some well known bloke and you’re set for the next 30 years at least! The monk who sold his Ferrari, my foot! Your job, money, house and car are not going to go with you when you die, so why not embrace the ascetic life now itself?

Will reason ever prevail with the powers that be? Will the hand of God come down from the heavens and right all wrongs? Somehow I think not. Best thing to do, if you don’t plan on being a mass murderer, is to avoid being the victim. No one likes the weak, and no one protects the weak and there certainly aren’t too many activists fighting for the weak. Don’t believe me? Just go to the Vidharbha region in Maharashtra and hunt around for an activist. 200,000 farmers have taken their own lives since 1997. They were not murderers, rapists or robbers. They just couldn’t earn enough to pay off their debts. Guess no one told them that jail was probably far more comfortable than running a farm in rural Maharashtra.

A new look at evolution...

I know there's this huge debate on the whole concept of evolution.... one faction convinced that we evolved from the apes, the others convinced that God created us to round off the Garden of Eden. I have a different view.... I think we were created by the bacteria as a food source. Think about it for a moment, however much we may brainwash ourselves into thinking we're at the top of the food chain, its the bacteria (and viruses) that have the last laugh. HIV or AIDS, the cold, influenza, pneumonia, TB and a whole plethora of other things that at a touch will bring us to a messly and untimely end. Here's what I think - and since I'm writing this, I'm allowed a little artistic license. After the last ice-age, the council of bacteria met and the heads of the various strains decided that enough was enough. They couldn't just stand by and watch their kind starve to death because of bad weather. No, something must be done. They needed a food source. A sustainable one, preferably something that was smooth on the palate. So they had scouts looking around. They found that animals  tasted far better than plants. Fish were a little iffy. After looking around a bit they came up on the apes, and found that they matched all criteria. they reproduced, were very low maintainence and were easily manipulated. Most importantly, they had barely any immunity. Wonderful! Manna from unicellular heaven! Said one to the other "You thinking what I'm thinking?" "Sure am!" said the other. And the Human race was chosen as the primary food source for the council and their bretheren.

Now the council discussed way's and means. "Well for starters, we need to make them totally self sufficient. They need to be able to maintain themselves and reporduce." "it woudl be nice if we could get them to bump off each other occasionally, they putrefy really well.... such a special bouquet!" "What if they could bump off entire hoardes of their own" "Oooohh good idea! A banquet!" "Ah well, feed the masses if you will, I still prefer mine ala carte."

After much discussion it was decided that the human race - aka primary food source - would have the following characteristics.

1) They would be able to feed themselves

2) They would be able to reproduce, in plenty.

3) They would constantly kill each other

4) They would adapt to varying environments so that everyone could be fed. From Ice to volvanic lava, from the desert to the equator. The primary food source would inhabit every environment there was. Thus bacteria could live wherever they wanted and never worry about not being able to catch a quick snack.

The list went on. Finally operation food source was put into operation and was a resounding success. Unfortunately like every successful product, the food source became commoditised and let to a situation of surplus. And to make things worse, the humans were destroying everything around them and killing off the bacteria. This was unacceptable, who'd ever heard of an experiment turning on its creator.... its just rude! This could not be allowed...Antibiotics, Vitamin C, Penicillin.... they had to go. So the grand council of the bacteria met once again and decided they needed to do something about it. A plan was decided upon.

They decided to send in their best and attack a chosen few. These would ensure pruning of the herd. Wars, weapons, pollution etc.... simple measures that made sure the population was back under control.... but done in such a way that the humans blamed each other and not their creators.... So the humans turned against each other and the Bacteria and Viruses had a blast...

Battling My Everest!

Listening to loud rock while walking/jogging can cause you to get a little carried away, in my case, totally carried away. Bear in mind that I haven’t done any sort of heavy exercising for more than a decade, barring the occasional appearance at a gym (which quite frankly is nothing compared to hockey or karate work outs). So yesterday, (last night to be precise) I decided it was about time I got some strenuous activity going on in my life. Sitting at my desk for 12 hours a day, 5 days a week and lazing the weekends away is doing terrible things to what was once, according to popular opinion, a rather svelte figure. While the overpriced building complex that I live in hasn’t yet put up the promised gymnasium, it does have a garden with a jogging track. I decided I would use that. After all I have done my fair share of running (in school) and my fair share of work outs (also in school).

So as soon as I got home I changed into sweats and sneakers, got my music out and introduced myself to said jogging track. Barring a bunch of rambunctious 5 year olds doing their thing in the play area there was no one there. I walked one round and then came Nickleback… needless to say I got carried away and broke into a run. 2 rounds of that and I swear I though I was going to die! My lungs couldn’t stretch far enough, breathing was suddenly a Herculean task and everything helping me stay upright was a-quiver… not a happy situation… I’m ashamed to say it but I felt old! When the heck did that happen? When did it get so difficult to run a couple of rounds? I walked out the quivers for about 6 or 7 rounds (with a couple of forced stops when I fell over a toddler’s stupid tricycle – why the heck can’t they take the damn things with them I will never know) and then decided to try running again, deluding myself that now since I was all warmed up I would be able to do it. HAH! So much for that…. I didn’t even survive one round before my lungs gave out and my heart started doing high jumps. My school sports days were suddenly a very, very long time ago….

Today although I am determined to attack that jogging track again, it’s a case of my spirit is willing but my body creaks in despair. If you really want to feel your age, do something stupid like that. A colleague and I were discussing starting a work out routine after work. We decided we’d go for a run on Oval maidan and get back to the office. At that time I quipped that if he collapsed (he’s a goodish bit older than I am) I wouldn’t be able to carry him back, to which he replied “You’ll just have to roll me into a taxi”. Ooooohhhh how that’s come back to bite me in the butt…

Well wish me luck… that jogging track is my Everest. I plan another attempt today. This time I think I will walk first and run later. And I’m gonna be toning down the rock… hopefully my husband will be able to scrape me off the track if I collapse – rolling down the steps will leave a mark I think. Must check for wheel chair ramp!