The Great Indian #Litterbug

Don’t you dare call me that without knowing what a great service I am doing for the country! For everybody’s good.  I take great offense to this modern, western idea of cleanliness where everything is so sterile and smells so monotonous that even the disinfectant wants a whiff of something different. Also we have grown in a culture of being one with nature, even if it happens to be our own shit or the poorly digested dung of our domesticated and sacred animals. We have always lived like this, since time in memorial! To live like this, is to live like how our forefathers preached and practiced. That makes me a great follower of tradition as well.

How dare anybody, define hygiene for me and tell me what I can do or can’t do on the free streets of my own free country? I am a tax paying citizen of this wonderfully, smelly country and the fiscal well being of society is paramount to me. Besides, I also think there a great deal of utility in me throwing garbage on the streets, peeing on the roads and not to forget, in indulging in the country’s most favorite pass time, Sssppiittt-aaa-Ttthhoonnn.

This is where your imagination comes into the picture. Don’t mind the pun aa? Now imagine, copious amounts of blood-red colored, paan flavored, love laden saliva, being freshly dished out, in super slow-motion, with great panache towards a recently painted wall by a man sporting wavy but well oiled hair and a thin moustache reminiscent of a pot bellied 70’s movie hero! BTW, for your information, that’s very close to what I look like. This scene may be absolutely common, but yet it is delightfully refreshing, every time you see it, right?

Let me now illustrate with a few examples of how I am contributing to the nation’s GDP by throwing out garbage and peeing on the streets. Clearly, this is besides, my limitless energy to participate in the open coughing, sneezing and the rich-sputum-Spit-a-Thon Championships. Much to the disgust of cynics and possibly to the delight of the champions of animals, planktons and other single celled organisms rights groups, let me just remind you and society at large, that by participating in such events, I am greatly contributing to the overall ecosystem of the Influenza Virus. I am nature loving you see! For record, I’m talking about the virus that causes ‘the flu’ and not an online community of influential people who help spread messages like viruses. I call them the ‘Influenza me-toos’. Pathetic copycats!

Let’s talk garbage first! And like every other good citizen, I collect my garbage, all together, no separating them. Why waste money on another waste bin I say? Then, of my free will and accord, I walk up to my front door and I sssspppiiilllll it all out on to the street. Remember the routine, paan chewing man with wavy, but well oiled hair, in a very colorful beach shirt, also sporting very bright trousers walking up to the street in super slow-motion  and exhibiting his devotion to the country,to the neighbors and the single celled organisms by throwing the garbage onto the streets. Right?

By admitting to this, you can see I am also an honest man. But in defense, by me spilling the garbage onto the street, I am supporting a whole bunch of people and Ecosystems. Don’t look so shocked. Let me explain; our neighborhood milkman, the poor man, barely makes enough to support his family of 8 people is forced to look at other means to enhance his revenue. So he gets into cheaper additives that can be added to the milk. At times, he even tries adding the municipal tap water when the complaints become too many. The extras that come along with that water act as natural ‘emulsifiers’ to make the milk look and feel thick. Now in such a scenario, how can the poor man afford quality fodder for his cattle? That’s where my garbage comes in handy. Milk man, opens gates to his cattle-shed very early in the morning; cattle sneak out in the darkness, follow the scent of the garbage, find it in front of my house, eat it and feel very happy because they now believe they are truly a part of the community because they are eating what the community is eating!  Sometime, the only drawback, as my children see it, is after eating they also poop there. Now how can we teach these gentle cows that you don’t poop in the plate you eat in? I don’t yet speak Moo-lish na? Maybe that’s the problem.

But my wife has a fantastic solution to that too. She uses the freshly pooped dung as a natural insecticide by spreading it across the road. Sometimes, our neighbors complain about the smell, but they will get used to it. If we can get used to phenol, they can get used to dung as well!

Look at another scenario; garbage is in front of the house, the cat is inside the house and where are the poor mice? Having a feast in the midst all the garbage, of course! They make hay or rather bite into leftover cheese, when the cat is away. Very cheesy fellows! They then go back to fat and healthy, which makes them lazy. Which is when our clever cat comes back to catch them with ease. For me this is ingenious, because I don’t need to spend on buying expensive cat food now. Who said there’s nothing like free lunch?

But this is not it. I also help Dr. Dubey’s medical practice in big way. Though I don’t get any cut or commission from him or the rich pharmaceutical companies. Maybe I should ask them for a cut in sales from now on. What do you think? See I have just now even created a simple business plan, on the spot! Anyways, coming back, have you noticed, how people, I mean, us normal people, how when we see garbage, a strange pleasure that almost feels like one induced by the release of sufficient amounts of serotonin in the brain, creates a compulsion to spontaneously spit on the garbage. It’s almost, like an involuntary action that condemns the garbage that’s there. So with the garbage in front of my house, people with colds, without colds, with illness, without illness, straight, gay, black, white, oh sorry; wheatish, yellow, brown, tall, short, basically any size, any color, any creed, paan chewing or not, will spit on the garbage. Because a lot people walk around, they may pick up the ‘real’ influenza virus, which will make them unwell. And then who cures them? Dr. Dubey of course! Yes. Our friendly neighborhood Doctor Saab.

With the cows, the mice and rag pickers clearing most of the garbage; sometimes in a few days, I am also reducing the job for the municipality. This way, the ‘pourakarmikaas’ or people who clean up our garbage have less work to do and don’t have to bake in the hot sun. So what are they doing now? They are chilling and getting drunk at the local bar, which incidentally opens early eh! This way, the cost of transportation of garbage to the landfills by municipality too comes down many notches as there isn’t much to transport. It has all been consumed within the community you see. An almost perfect recycling system! The other big benefit is a dramatic reduction in the pollution levels that could have been caused by the transport vehicles ferrying the garbage to the landfills. Now the municipality uses fewer vehicles that make fewer trips. If there is not enough garbage to dump, the government too needn’t worry about acquiring land for landfills or displacing people from their villages for the landfills. So you see my small, selfless act of throwing garbage onto the streets can contribute to overall the fiscal well being of society!

I am the Great Indian Litterbug and I think it’s my birthright to litter.

Conquers more than the roads. Captures more than your imagination.

I am no off-road maniac. I am no big automobile junkie either. At best you could call me an armchair critic, especially of our foreign policy, cricket and South Indian food. So what is a retard like me doing in a beast of vehicle like the Pajero?

Well to begin with, it partly has something to do with a condition that I often find myself in and for which my friends no longer have any sympathy for. I am often at the receiving end of two conditions which are contradictory in nature; diarrhoea of words resulting from a constipation of thought.  Anyways, to come back to the story, this happened on one rather unusually hot summer evening in Bangalore, when a bunch of friends and I, after a few exhilarating rounds of conversation over beer and seekh kebabs realised that as our domestic lives had taken precedence; our enthusiasm for the unrehearsed, impulsive spur of moment decisions had indeed deteriorated making us nothing more than compulsive creatures of comfort. It looked ominous to all of us that our zing for off-road adventures had taken a detour for the worse.

That evening I also realised alcohol and adrenalin don’t make a great combination. In that gusto to rekindle the passion I called up the good people at Mitsubishi for a test drive of the Pajero. By the time the fun, frolic and passion was over and good old slumber had restored some amount dignity
to my senses and my overworked grey cells, I found myself standing in front of spanking new dual coloured black and silver Pajero. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind in that blink of second, ranging from the totally deranged to what else can I do with this monster. Initially, I did contemplate taking the sales guy back to my apartment, offering him a cup of authentic South Indian filter coffee and politely excusing myself while appreciating him for all the trouble that he had taken. And then I looked at the four wheeled wonder again.

Suddenly, as if I was possessed, there was a rush of adrenalin that surged through my veins energising every single cell in my body, I was there behind the wheel in a flash. I knew, the soft leather on the seat was just the skin of a monster that was about to bare its fangs. Though the dash-board and the ergonomics looked a bit dated, reminiscent of an era when the focus was beneath the boot rather than cosmetics, the front dual airbags and the 3 point Emergency Locking Retractors or ELR seat belts more than made up for the lack of any flamboyance.

The high seat on the road was taken and I was on my way to conquer the highway to hell at least that was the feeling that hurried through my already overloaded synaptic connections as I turned the ignition on. The familiar sound of an all-conquering machine now reverberated through the apartment complex almost bringing everybody and everything to a standstill. Little ‘Ronaldos’ froze in their dribble; little girls seen licking their lollipops were hypnotised, birds stopped flying and it seemed as if the other vehicles were trying to hide behind the pillars much against the wishes of their drivers. Such was the overwhelming presence of the Pajero.

The drive through the streets of a crowded city was a breeze thanks to the beautifully synchronised 5 speed manual gearbox and gear ratios. The 2.8 litre turbo charged inter-cooled diesel engine generates enough torque to handle the toughest city needs; a handy thing given the state of most roads in our cities today. Actually, I was fortunate enough to preview the ‘off-road’ capabilities of the vehicle well within the city itself when I had to wade through half a feet of filth flowing though the lanes of an unfortunate populace. Come to think of it, some of the potholes on our streets could well challenge the craters caused by meteors and perhaps, even win hands down.

In such conditions, the front double wishbone torsion bar with stabiliser bar suspension and the rear 3 link coil spring rigid axle with stabilizer bar suspension proved to be more than adequate in cushioning us inside. But that wasn’t enough of a cushion for my angst against certain despicable authorities for the sad state of our roads. The chassis of the Pajero is the famed reinforced ladder frame which is capable of withstanding the demands of the toughest terrain and believe me, I just happened to witness one such terrain a moment ago. The body roll too is minimised thanks to this solid frame working in tandem with solid suspensions. The result, a smooth ride irrespective of the terrain!

As we drove away from the city, I decided to put the monster to its ultimate test, or at least what I thought would be its ultimate test. Small thinking from a small-minded person you could say. I decided to go off-road when I saw this endless mass of rough country, much to the surprise of our friendly Mitsubishi sales person. There it was; boulders, sand, rocks, a hillock, ditches carved out of the Earth by the elements and a path at best for a road. I thought this is it, let me throw this uncharted terrain at the brute and see how she handles it. Much to my disdain, the Pajero handled it all with maximum ease. The multi-meters including the altimeter, barometer, inclinometer acted more as hindrance to my abilities making me conscious all the while of what I was doing, defying the very purpose of my rather spirited attack on the mean machine.

After a gruelling 30 minutes of pure adrenalin rush, I conceded defeat and also much to the delight of the Mitsubishi sales person, called it quits. The beast had conquered more than just the roads.

You can’t afford to miss out on this Boss!

Thalaivar is here and how. The last few days saw perhaps, the biggest ever phenomenon of Indian cinema open to packed houses across Tamilnadu, Andhra, Kerala, Karnataka, Mumbai, Japan, USA and the Far East. In fact that is an understatement. People, sorry read as devotees of Rajini, thronged cinema halls. Every show, in nearly every cinema hall in Chennai, has been booked for over 20 days. Ever heard of something like this? This can happen only in Tamilnadu and perhaps, only for Rajini.

Depending on how you look at it, the experience of watching a Rajini movie in the first few days can be completely exhilarating or absolutely boisterous. But never dull. Seeing the adoration people have for the man can be quite a moving experience. The processions taken out by hundreds of thousands of his fans carrying his cutouts through the streets can put to shame any seasoned politician’s ability to mobilize crowds. Billboards of politicians dwarf in comparison to these 60 feet or more cuts outs of the superstar. Milk by the liters, is poured over these cutouts. This kind of adulation was hitherto reserved only to the Gods. But hey, he is no ordinary man either. Thousands of rupees worth garlands then adorn these cutouts. Pujas are performed and then the crowd sweeps into the cinemas.

Every little move, every dialogue, every scene is cheered, applauded, hooted. In short, there is very little that you can see or hear. That’s why I suppose; so many people go back the second time and the third time to watch the movie 😉 By the way, just for the record, his earlier movie, released about 2 years ago, is still running at a cinema, grossing over Rs. 60 crore!

The other amazing thing about Rajini is the fact that his off screen persona is as affable as his reel life. He is not pretentious, neither is he to perturbed by his reel life glamour. He is the way he is and people just love that. It perhaps, adds to the “savior of the needy” image that he so deservingly carries.

On the day of release of Sivaji, I casually asked my driver, what would happen if the movie bombs? After all about Rs.100 crore was riding on it. Without even batting an eyelid, he said “no chance of flopping sar”. When I quizzed him a bit more on this, he told me “ Sar, AVM is involved. They will not make bad movies, they check, story, dialogues, screenplay all that, then, we have Shankar sar… He has made only a few movies but all of them are very good. Anniyan, you must have seen no sar, the hero had hair like yours, that movie also was Shankar sar’s… than we have AR Rehaman Sar’s music, which has to be super hit, then we have Rajini Sar… This combination has come together before. So no chance of flop sar. Ever heard of pre release rationalization? If you haven’t, well this is it, and remember you read it first here. Anyways, going by the reports, it is going to be a while before this mania comes to an end. But while it lasts, lets enjoy.

Compromise is for politicians.

I watched with a lot amusement the announcements made by the BCCI. Correct me, if I am wrong. The idea was to meet up and come up with solutions that were supposed to encourage and inculcate cricket and winning habits amongst players.

But what do we have now. A nicely worked out compromise, that just pulls wool over the people’s eyes. The board has clearly sent out signals, that as a player you can get away with absolute mediocrity and if you are a cricket enthusiast, you will have live with this mediocrity.

What I fail to understand is; what have endorsements got to do with performance? If I am a professional, I know my “good times” will not last forever. So if I don’t give it my 110%, I stand to loose everything, because, I no longer will have people’s respect, which in turn means they will not standby my endorsements. I have to be a ‘full time’ idiot not to understand these dynamics and devote all my time to endorsements or not perform on the field.

The measures suggested by the BCCI smacks of ignorance. 3 brands per player, no more than certain number of days for shoots, no shooting or events to be attended 15 days prior to a tournament etc., etc. It shows how people who have not played the game are now killing it in the name of revival. But hey, with the BCCI, you never know. There is always light at the end of the tunnel. The next win, could throw all this out of the window, and our players will be restored to their rightful place – next to our Gods. All this will be end up being notes for a sequel of the comedy of errors.

The blue billion

India exits world cup.

Players feel hurt and hapless.

Chappell resigns.

Zee launches ICL.

No wonder a billion people are feeling so blue.

So what’s all the fuss about? I think primarily, it has everything to do with people’s mental makeup. We are no longer a contended society. We want more and we want it now. Look at the violence that’s perpetuated through our movies. The hero is no longer satisfied with a small bashing of the baddies. He needs to pull out his big gun, his big sword and beat ’em up big time to pulp. The hero no longer rides around on his bike. He’s gotto have a big car. His stunts are big.

This catastrophic change has come about, I think due to the change in psychic of the Indian public. We live our dreams through our heroes and heroines. So everything needs to be ostentatious. In fact, I distinctively remember, a die hard John Abraham fan told me that she didn’t ‘like’ Kabul Express. I was quite amazed. On probing further, she told me that the movie was too simple. It made her feel ‘light’. There was nothing in it for her to take home. No glam, no aspiration, no expensive cars, no swanky locales, nothing to dream off, no flights of fantasy. Phew! Most directors would give an arm to do a movie like that. But we are like this only!

Similarly, when it comes to cricket too we are ostentatious. One billion people live their dreams through our cricketers. It is another matter, that we don’t dominate any other sport at the world level. (Perhaps, the one exception being Chess, where Vishwanathan Anand is No.1. But then with 42 people following it at any given point of time, we can safely ignore it.) Coming back to cricket, yes, one look at the record books will tell how seriously we take the sport. Every conceivable record will feature the name of an Indian player. (Actually, read as – Sachin) Are our players so talented or do we drive them to such frenzy.

We are no longer happy with a 250 –280 score. It needs to be 350 – 400. Our margins of victory need to be a world records. Every time Sachin goes out, it needs to be a big hundred. Every time Irfan, Sreesanth, Munaf bowls, it needs to break the 96 MPH barrier, the stumps needs to break in half, or the batsmen need to break a bone or two. The catching has to be spectacular. The throws from the boundary need to find the stumps. The impression we would give anybody is that we have 11 supermen in our team. Every win raises the players closer to the status of GOD. And every failure reduces them to a bunch of incompetent nincompoops who are better of selling nariyal paani.

Such is the Indian public. And when you shoulders carry the burden of a billion such fans, I think you are better off selling nariyal paani.

 

Hey in passing shot;

After a lot of research, we zeroed in on two powerful personalities who were responsible for India’s debacle at the World Cup;
Indira Gandhi for creating Bangladesh and Hanuman for not destroying Lanka completely… hehehe 😉

Tale of two titans: L N Mittal and Warren Buffett

Which is the greatest virtue, to give or to conquer? To conquer the steel empire or to conquer millions of hearts? I suppose only time will tell. But the 3^rd week of June 2006, will definitely go down in history as the week that saw two men from the business world conquer different summits. One claimed the prized possession of Arcelor, the 2^nd largest producer of steel for a whooping $ 33.6 billion and the other donates a mind boggling $ 37 billion to charity!

So what is it that drives men? Actually, what is it that drives all of us? We seem to be caught in this end less rat race always wanting more. Bigger salaries, bigger cars, bigger hotels, bigger houses, heck even bigger burgers and milkshakes. What about bigger hearts, folks?

No. Not for a moment am I suggesting that what Mr. Mittal has achieved is insignificant or even inconsequential. In fact, his achievement has heralded to the world the arrival of the Indian flavor. The last five odd months, I ‘m sure must have been very anxious times for the Mittals. Everything from racial bias, to bringing in a different work culture has been hurled at them. Yet they have come out strong to climb the summit.

What is also impressive about Mr. Mittal is his vision. His group today has diversified from its core business into shipping, coal, power and oil enterprises. It also said that Mr. Mittal has an uncanny knack of identifying sick steel companies and turning them into gold! His zeal to conquer the steel empire is so intense that he now owns 12 giant-sized steel plants stretching from Canada to Trinidad & Tobago to Kazakhstan and Indonesia.

On the other hand, there is Mr. Buffett who made his billions from investments. He too shared this uncanny ability to spot investment opportunities. He picked up major stake in undervalued companies such as American Express, Coca-Cola, The Washington Post and Gillette. This Omaha born wizard is believed to have made his first investment at the age of 11. Phew! Most people at that age wouldn’t even know the difference between stock and stock.

In spite, of his acumen, this “Oracle of Omaha” is better known for this philanthropy. He has dished out millions, sorry now, billions towards charity. For many this could be perplexing. During the day, he makes billions and then in the evening dishes them out to the needy. It takes a man with big heart to be so magnanimous.

A big heart or nerves of steel, we all have our drives, to achieve our ever elusive goals. And then eventually, when we realize the true value of what are or what we have, I suppose that’s when we take the call. This cycle will continue as long as man exists.

ECR: “Easily the most Convenient Road.”

I wouldn’t call myself a rodie or even a long drive aficionado. I’m not much of a traveler either. So what am I doing here with a column like this, occupying precious bandwidth?
My idea of a holiday is a HOLIDAY! It needs to be easy… actually laid back would be more appropriate. Good food, good books, good beer mostly make up my holidays. I would love to move at a pace that snails consider top speed. So, again, what am I doing in a column on automobiles? Well, who ever said you have to explore highways and expressways at break neck speeds.

Last weekend, the stars, work, my boss, all coincidentally decided that I needed a break. This was akin to the three miracles needed to be christened Saint by the Vatican. Not very used to planning out my days, woke up late and decided to drive down to Pondicherry. I could see a large question mark in Helvetica 72 points, bold engraved on the faces my wife and our dog! Why Pondicherry, meekly they protested. Well I suppose such questions are better left to the philosopher or to Malcolm Gladwell and his theory of Blink.

We took off, waded through what seemed like endless chaos on the streets of Chennai. After 20 minutes of complete torture within the city we hit the ECR. For all those not from the most famous Dravidian metropolis, ECR is the scenic East Coast Road along the Bay of Bengal.

Once on ECR, life takes a complete U turn. One would have to be blind as a bat to miss the clear and loud traffic signs on the road. Very convenient for the average Indian driver! In spite of the fact that Pondicherry is a favorite tourist destination, the traffic on the ECR comes as a real surprise. Perhaps, people are more preoccupied with their superstars in Chennai.

With good music and the blue waters of the ocean for company, the ECR is a must for all Garfield lovers. Pack you favorite Lasagnes and don’t bother about the potholes. The drive is muskaa. For all those from the most famous Dravidian city muskaa means butter. For long stretches, the ocean gives you good company. The blue water adjacent to the ECR is indeed a very tempting site. No wonder, one sees a number of vehicles parked off the scenic highway.

Our leisurely drive continues, we do a small detour through the forgotten town of Mamallapuram. Still famous for its stone sculpting, Mamallapuram, is famous for its ancient rock cut temples, where the epics of Ramayan and Mahabharat are carved out of stones. Even today, stone carving is the bread, butter and jam if I may say so, of this sleepy little hamlet.

After meandering through the three and a half lanes of this small town, we hit ECR again. Passing through a few more small villages, the landscape soon starts turning white. This is salt country. Thousands of hectares of land now being used to harvest salt. Mounds of salt adorn the landscape. This is also where, one also begins to get a glimpse of what to expect in Pondicherry. Foreigners, on their 2 wheelers speeding down the road without a care. Nor do the locals bother. It almost looks like as if this has been happening for eons. ECR continues to meander in her pristine glory till we almost reach Pondicherry. You cross the tollgate, and suddenly things take a dramatic turn. Every bone, every phalange in the body is rudely reminded that there is something called gravity.

Thankfully this rock and roll session for us is short lived, as we reach our resort, which happened to be a good 13 kilometers before Pondicherry. Sipping, on some thirst quenching beer, reminiscing the drive, I dread to imagine what the rest of the journey into Pondicherry could have been like.