There was palpable excitement in the air. The delivery date was more or less known now. The near and dear ones were there to comfort me and share the happiness on this occasion.
The previous night the debate continued weather it was baby girl or baby boy. Fortunately there was no money at stake to win or lose. And also the bet would have been significantly important as the following dawn was the day they had tied the knot some three years back.
Next day morning on a journey which usually lasts an hour looked more than one. It was unusual that on this day few of my colleagues preferred to stay indoors and not report to duty. Taj Pasha our company pick up van driver had arrived some 5 clear minutes early at my stop at the Banashankari Ring road.
I had to hurry my steps and it looked as if I was galloping like a horse on a derby. Taj never liked people coming late. He never expressed his displeasure but his face was more than enough to communicate to vent his ire. As he had reach office just in time to avoid late mark.
Chilly Bangalore winter made matter worse. The chilly wind would discomfort any foolhardy driver. There was no one in the van except Taj the driver. Seizing the opportunity I proposed for a freshly brewed filter coffee. Taj was more than enthusiastic to agree. He never minced words while saying “ Yes”.
Displaying his driving skills Taj changed gears and slowly stopped the van opposite a darshani hotel on the Kamakhya circle. After paying in advance for the coffee I also ordered for Idli a taste neutral pan cake which is consumed mostly early in the morning in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu states.
Just then the call came on my mobile. The number was familiar. It was my father-in-law on the other end. He gave the details how my wife was admitted to hospital in the middle of the night with the help of a auto driver who did’t even take the auto hire charges to Apollo Hospital in Mysore . I mentioned Taj about my wife hospitalization. His advice to me,” Saab! Tumhe hospital ko jao” ( Sir, go to the hospital - Hyderbadi Hindi)
Taj words of wisdom did very little to trace my steps backwards. The idea of sales co-ordination meeting was looming large on my face. The same words of wisdom echoed from other colleagues who later boarded the van en route to office. Rather hesitantly I called up my father in law who was carrying my wife mobile to know the latest on the matter.
He equally seemed exited about the whole matter. The doctor had said that it will happen by this afternoon. With a assurance to call back in next 45 mts . I was nervous a lot and within next 20mts the call came to my mobile .The news was that Savitha had delivered a healthy girl baby at 10 past 20 mts on 2nd Dec 2004.
What a rare co-incidence, we got married same time and same date 2 Dec 2001.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Dombivli-Poli Bhaji Kendra- BPO
Mumbai , " Amchi Mumbai" is echoed by not only localities but also settlers who have come from other states. Dombivli in early 1950 to late 1970 was typically Chitpavan Brahmins paradise. Local Train connectivity made it more affordable. It was in the early 80s that the population of Dombivli started to balloon. Mumbai " Bombay" then had influx of people from all corners of India. Mumbai was a dream to millions who wanted to make it big.
Middle class families settled for Dombivli for its accessibility and affordability. Not to mention the educational institutions like Tilak high school, Pendharkar college etc. which held the town reputation high. It was the working educated class which made much impact to the city's reputation. The Dombivli railway station is known for its mad rushes and the sea of people are always on the move.
This sight is worth watching at 7 am in the morning on weekdays and evening after 7 pm. There would be equal numbers of Men and Women who would jostled to catch hold of the train.This made this town unique; both husband and wife are employed.Exhausted but not lost were the people who would be determined to see the next day, with new set of hope in their heart and to see a better tomorrow, for themselves and their children. And time was the essence of every activity and that is one reason why Mumbai still is called a Fast City as compared to other metros.
The women traditional role of cooking in house was about to go with the introduction of new concept," Poli Bhaji- kendra" The first of its kind in India. I believe the first one to start was one shop just below High tension line on the Manpada Road Intersection. (before Kasturi Plaza) The unique thing about this Poli ( Wheat Flat Bread- in Marathi or Chapati as it is called popularly) was its consistency in taste, shape and thickness and it was made by less educated ladies who would put all their experience behind those tasty Poli's. This gave the less educated ladies the opportunity to utilise their skill which would be economically beneficial to them.
This poli was priced at only Rs0.75 paise and Bhaji( Dry/Wet gravy of vegetables) would be sold in Grams as a weight of measure. This was instant hit in Dombivli. People who were busy to rush to their work would now get up late instead of getting up very early in the morning. They would straight head for Station. On the way they would get packed Poli and Bhaji. Many would do the same after returning from work. And it made sense for the working class to purchase Poli Bhaji and save the cooking time.
It was a win-win situation for all; for the businessman who had this brilliant idea of setting up the Poli-Bhaji Kendra, the customers who could now utilise their time with family and lastly the poor less educated ladies who could be employed in most effective way.
Middle class families settled for Dombivli for its accessibility and affordability. Not to mention the educational institutions like Tilak high school, Pendharkar college etc. which held the town reputation high. It was the working educated class which made much impact to the city's reputation. The Dombivli railway station is known for its mad rushes and the sea of people are always on the move.
This sight is worth watching at 7 am in the morning on weekdays and evening after 7 pm. There would be equal numbers of Men and Women who would jostled to catch hold of the train.This made this town unique; both husband and wife are employed.Exhausted but not lost were the people who would be determined to see the next day, with new set of hope in their heart and to see a better tomorrow, for themselves and their children. And time was the essence of every activity and that is one reason why Mumbai still is called a Fast City as compared to other metros.
The women traditional role of cooking in house was about to go with the introduction of new concept," Poli Bhaji- kendra" The first of its kind in India. I believe the first one to start was one shop just below High tension line on the Manpada Road Intersection. (before Kasturi Plaza) The unique thing about this Poli ( Wheat Flat Bread- in Marathi or Chapati as it is called popularly) was its consistency in taste, shape and thickness and it was made by less educated ladies who would put all their experience behind those tasty Poli's. This gave the less educated ladies the opportunity to utilise their skill which would be economically beneficial to them.
This poli was priced at only Rs0.75 paise and Bhaji( Dry/Wet gravy of vegetables) would be sold in Grams as a weight of measure. This was instant hit in Dombivli. People who were busy to rush to their work would now get up late instead of getting up very early in the morning. They would straight head for Station. On the way they would get packed Poli and Bhaji. Many would do the same after returning from work. And it made sense for the working class to purchase Poli Bhaji and save the cooking time.
It was a win-win situation for all; for the businessman who had this brilliant idea of setting up the Poli-Bhaji Kendra, the customers who could now utilise their time with family and lastly the poor less educated ladies who could be employed in most effective way.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Our Small Dwelling
Whilst in Bombay we were put in middle class suburb called Dombivli. My father came to mumbai in the late 60's. It was like someone staying in USA or Europe now. Our locality was called Gokhale Wadi in Dombivli East. Gokhale wadi was cluster of residential labour lines as one may see now.
The facilities were very basic. And our dwelling was one of the smallest. It hardly measured
135 square feet. In that we had kitchen platform and bathroom without toilet. And the toilet block was some 200 feet away. Our small dwelling was attached to one "Girni " ( Flour Mill) and the grinding noise would always bring headache. Also it meant that the flour dust would enter our house.
My father was Asthmatic and the flour dust would trigger asthmatic attack. He tried every trick to stop the dust to come in but failed. It also ensured that house mice would make its round every night. Right diagonally across Manpada Road was a pond but later it was sewage discharge area.( Now it is a beautiful park) The mosquitoes would hold seige over our area.
We used Tortoise Mosquito coils earlier and then we were the first ones in Gokhale Wadi to purchase Good Night Mosquito repellent. My father was jubilant he had got hold of one brahmastra against mosquitoes. He tried some ultra-sound equipment, some liquid called MOSRUN ( read Mosquito Run) but none could match Good Knight which was bought out by a company called Transelecktra. And till today in my native place where my father and mother are settled you will find to much amusement Good knight keeps on burning continuously.
In that small room we had practically everything one could conceive of. We had a showcase which acted as a bifurcating wall in that small room. We also had a telivision a sewing machine, A diwan a water storage drum and kitchen wear, a study table and what not..
Hygiene was always in question. The water source was contaminated and my father again pitched in with Zero B water purifier. But one thing he had little control was Toilet. As I mentioned the toilet block was away and was used by many.
People didn't bother to keep toilet clean and would carry small bucket to flush. There were few hardened oldies who would carry a copy of newspaper to read leisurely inside without minding people were waiting in a que to get their chance to diffuse the bowel movement.
In spite of all the physical difficulties which we faced in Gokhale wadi we were contended and rarely thought of the bigger world for ourselves. And I will always remember Gokhale wadi residents as large hearted and full of empathy.
Today my dwelling is relatively big but not sure of my heart.
The facilities were very basic. And our dwelling was one of the smallest. It hardly measured
135 square feet. In that we had kitchen platform and bathroom without toilet. And the toilet block was some 200 feet away. Our small dwelling was attached to one "Girni " ( Flour Mill) and the grinding noise would always bring headache. Also it meant that the flour dust would enter our house.
My father was Asthmatic and the flour dust would trigger asthmatic attack. He tried every trick to stop the dust to come in but failed. It also ensured that house mice would make its round every night. Right diagonally across Manpada Road was a pond but later it was sewage discharge area.( Now it is a beautiful park) The mosquitoes would hold seige over our area.
We used Tortoise Mosquito coils earlier and then we were the first ones in Gokhale Wadi to purchase Good Night Mosquito repellent. My father was jubilant he had got hold of one brahmastra against mosquitoes. He tried some ultra-sound equipment, some liquid called MOSRUN ( read Mosquito Run) but none could match Good Knight which was bought out by a company called Transelecktra. And till today in my native place where my father and mother are settled you will find to much amusement Good knight keeps on burning continuously.
In that small room we had practically everything one could conceive of. We had a showcase which acted as a bifurcating wall in that small room. We also had a telivision a sewing machine, A diwan a water storage drum and kitchen wear, a study table and what not..
Hygiene was always in question. The water source was contaminated and my father again pitched in with Zero B water purifier. But one thing he had little control was Toilet. As I mentioned the toilet block was away and was used by many.
People didn't bother to keep toilet clean and would carry small bucket to flush. There were few hardened oldies who would carry a copy of newspaper to read leisurely inside without minding people were waiting in a que to get their chance to diffuse the bowel movement.
In spite of all the physical difficulties which we faced in Gokhale wadi we were contended and rarely thought of the bigger world for ourselves. And I will always remember Gokhale wadi residents as large hearted and full of empathy.
Today my dwelling is relatively big but not sure of my heart.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Mansoon -Bare foot Football
It was 1988 monsoon and Konkan rains are quite heavy. Although Dombivli is not in Konkan region but the rains are more or less similar. In Gokhale wadi we were always had novel ways to beat the vagaries of nature.
Gokhale wadi would be flooded in monsoon and there was hardly any scope for playing in that swampy ground. We would always look out for weekends for a game of football. The only place to think of playing football was DNC playground at Nandivli which was walkable distance for us all.
Our football preparation was bare minimal. And our hero was Maradona of Argentina and ofcourse we loved the Brazillian Samba. Our senior could manage to purchase a football out of their own contribution. Being junior we also contributed. I remember of not paying more than 3 rupees to Nanda.
Being from lower middle class family we never had the privilege of Sports shoes or the sports shorts. We were happy that we at least had football of our own. At ground we used to put 2 bricks at a specified distance and that would be our goal post. Barefoot with cotton shorts on we aimed at the opposite goal post. The rains would make the game more lively and dribbling through small puddles would always remain challenge. Atul sarnaik(balu) was a boxer but liked playing football. He had the habit of approaching the ball menacingly. That act would unnerve any amateur like me. Dileep(vaji) and Milind Limaye urf Rafi were the best among us.
Not to mention the outsiders like Prakash(pakya) , Nagendra( nagya) who had solid control over the ball. Nagendra now hold a high position of Company Secretary in a Private firm in Bangalore.
Most injury marks on my knee and below can be attributed to football. I remember having played football even after having a toe injury. I had used a polythene bag and tied it with rubber band such was the passion. And no amount of enjoyment would describe one would feel while running on wet grass and one would naturally except one to slip and fall on one's back.
By playing football we Gokhale wadi buddies had learnt on agility, speed,control and team work all rolled into one while playing this game. Little did I wonder that the same things are being taught in premier Management education programs. That all I learnt while playing football barefoot.
Gokhale wadi would be flooded in monsoon and there was hardly any scope for playing in that swampy ground. We would always look out for weekends for a game of football. The only place to think of playing football was DNC playground at Nandivli which was walkable distance for us all.
Our football preparation was bare minimal. And our hero was Maradona of Argentina and ofcourse we loved the Brazillian Samba. Our senior could manage to purchase a football out of their own contribution. Being junior we also contributed. I remember of not paying more than 3 rupees to Nanda.
Being from lower middle class family we never had the privilege of Sports shoes or the sports shorts. We were happy that we at least had football of our own. At ground we used to put 2 bricks at a specified distance and that would be our goal post. Barefoot with cotton shorts on we aimed at the opposite goal post. The rains would make the game more lively and dribbling through small puddles would always remain challenge. Atul sarnaik(balu) was a boxer but liked playing football. He had the habit of approaching the ball menacingly. That act would unnerve any amateur like me. Dileep(vaji) and Milind Limaye urf Rafi were the best among us.
Not to mention the outsiders like Prakash(pakya) , Nagendra( nagya) who had solid control over the ball. Nagendra now hold a high position of Company Secretary in a Private firm in Bangalore.
Most injury marks on my knee and below can be attributed to football. I remember having played football even after having a toe injury. I had used a polythene bag and tied it with rubber band such was the passion. And no amount of enjoyment would describe one would feel while running on wet grass and one would naturally except one to slip and fall on one's back.
By playing football we Gokhale wadi buddies had learnt on agility, speed,control and team work all rolled into one while playing this game. Little did I wonder that the same things are being taught in premier Management education programs. That all I learnt while playing football barefoot.
First day: 2nd Innings @ 9th Grade.
Our school would reopen after summer vacation in June first week. The school would start at 12.00 noon. and this time I was less enthused about the whole affair. Having failed to clear the exams I was to sit through the whole year once again in 9th grade with some new junior age class. I could see my old batch mates getting into new class 10th grade or popularly called 10th Standard-SSC. That is the time I realised the importance of loosing a year.
I remember after making enquiries I came to the designated class and I took last but one bench on the right hand side. The girls used to sit on the left and boys at the right. Taking cue from me both Ganesh and Mahesh accompanied me. The class began with a prayer a sanskrit hymn devoted to Goddess Saraswati ( the goddess of knowledge) Yaa Kundendu..Tushara......
and followed by a kind of oath, " India is my country...."
We came to know that it was Mrs Gupte who was our teacher. What she did made a permanent mark in my life. From her I learnt the art of non-discrimination. She was our English teacher and our class teacher, a kind of mentor teacher. She noticed that we were sitting in the last benches little bit nervous of the things to come. She took decisions. She politely asked us to sit on the first bench. A sought of promotion from last bench to first bench in my 2nd innings at 9th grade! It was considered that, dull students should sit in the front so that they can be mentored as closely as possible in a classroom kind of situation.
I occupied the first bench which was bit isolated with Mahesh. It was bit discomforting as Mahesh was left handed and I was right handed. Ganesh took one bench behind us. Mrs Gupte did talk few comforting words only which a mother could have given. She told take this opportunity to strengthen the weak points so that we become strong in those areas. And I remember I found myself difficult to introduce myself to the class. My head was bent and my voice very feeble and hardly anyone could have heard me what I was speaking or mumbling ,may be the shame had overcome me.Moreover my name was difficult to pronounce "Phaniraj Chandra"
Some teachers would call me," Paaniraaj" loosely translated " Water king" and some took the liberty to call me," Praaniraaj" ( Animal king- Praani is Animal in Sanskrit, Hindi and Marathi, Kannada and many more languages) And there were some teachers who would pronounce my name as Phunnyraj, (heard as Funny Raj) I would get upset but at the same time little I could do and rather never protested. And Still I do not protest when someone intentionally or unintentionally wrongly pronounces my name.
I remember that comforting words and Mrs Gupte treated all her wards equally and made us all believe we could do it! And I had new wonderful batchmates I knew Sachin Sardesai and also Mukta as she used to stay near our house and Sanjay Shenoy was known for his academics so was Gouri. I knew Parag Seth and Ajay Shah and that gave me a sense of belonging. I acknowlege that never anybody from my classmates to our teacher made us feel that we were the ones who were spending 2 nd year to learn the same thing all over again.
This made me not so alien in that group and Mrs Gupte was kind of mentor I was just looking for. She built in us enough confidence to face the class for the second innings and of course the world.
I remember after making enquiries I came to the designated class and I took last but one bench on the right hand side. The girls used to sit on the left and boys at the right. Taking cue from me both Ganesh and Mahesh accompanied me. The class began with a prayer a sanskrit hymn devoted to Goddess Saraswati ( the goddess of knowledge) Yaa Kundendu..Tushara......
and followed by a kind of oath, " India is my country...."
We came to know that it was Mrs Gupte who was our teacher. What she did made a permanent mark in my life. From her I learnt the art of non-discrimination. She was our English teacher and our class teacher, a kind of mentor teacher. She noticed that we were sitting in the last benches little bit nervous of the things to come. She took decisions. She politely asked us to sit on the first bench. A sought of promotion from last bench to first bench in my 2nd innings at 9th grade! It was considered that, dull students should sit in the front so that they can be mentored as closely as possible in a classroom kind of situation.
I occupied the first bench which was bit isolated with Mahesh. It was bit discomforting as Mahesh was left handed and I was right handed. Ganesh took one bench behind us. Mrs Gupte did talk few comforting words only which a mother could have given. She told take this opportunity to strengthen the weak points so that we become strong in those areas. And I remember I found myself difficult to introduce myself to the class. My head was bent and my voice very feeble and hardly anyone could have heard me what I was speaking or mumbling ,may be the shame had overcome me.Moreover my name was difficult to pronounce "Phaniraj Chandra"
Some teachers would call me," Paaniraaj" loosely translated " Water king" and some took the liberty to call me," Praaniraaj" ( Animal king- Praani is Animal in Sanskrit, Hindi and Marathi, Kannada and many more languages) And there were some teachers who would pronounce my name as Phunnyraj, (heard as Funny Raj) I would get upset but at the same time little I could do and rather never protested. And Still I do not protest when someone intentionally or unintentionally wrongly pronounces my name.
I remember that comforting words and Mrs Gupte treated all her wards equally and made us all believe we could do it! And I had new wonderful batchmates I knew Sachin Sardesai and also Mukta as she used to stay near our house and Sanjay Shenoy was known for his academics so was Gouri. I knew Parag Seth and Ajay Shah and that gave me a sense of belonging. I acknowlege that never anybody from my classmates to our teacher made us feel that we were the ones who were spending 2 nd year to learn the same thing all over again.
This made me not so alien in that group and Mrs Gupte was kind of mentor I was just looking for. She built in us enough confidence to face the class for the second innings and of course the world.
The day I failed...
It was well acknowledged by my school teachers that if I pass in the exams the whole class passes. These was the reputation I carried on my shoulders. With little grace marks I would always get promoted into next higher class. Yet ,I could not shoulder it in 1985-86. I failed in 9th grade. Handing over the result Mrs Joshi told me, " All have passed now sit in the same class this year."
Now the result being handed over I was curious to know, " Was there anybody who could lighten my load of shame or share my agony " In that moment of crisis I could see 2 more disappointed faces, Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh Gupta and I do not recall the girl name who also could not get through. But it was a relief to note that other two would be my class mates once again.
There was no remorse on my face. Although Manpada road in Dombivli was crowded as usual so that one get easily lost in the crowd, yet I felt never so lonely on the road to my house.
I came home my father was busy giving final touches to civil ( cement masonry) work he had undertaken with all ingenuity. He asked lovingly, " What happened?" And very loosely I uttered," I failed!" Adding ," Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh too have failed!" Ganesh's father and my father were room mates when they were bachelors at" Athavale lodge" near Ganesh Mandir. ( now there is no athavale lodge)
My father was disappointed , to his existing bundle of miseries I had added another. He had lost his bread winning job and didn't know what exactly do and there I was standing shamelessly bringing disrepute to parents and putting further financial strain to the family.
Socially my father was well respected for his knowledge and integrity and honesty. His emotions became intense. He hit me moderately once at my left arm. I stood motionless holding my head down. He had a piece of advice," We brahmins have only got one thing, education!; If you don't work hard towards that , success will elude you." The only good thing about failing was I need not purchase new text books.
Now I was relieved and changed myself and went straight to play cricket with my Gokhale wadi mates. They too asked about my result. I told them ," I failed". Astonished, they were , found it difficult to believe that I had come to play a round of cricket shamelessly.
Mother came to house exhausted. She was a teacher in Manjunatha Vidyalaya for pre-primary section. She smilingly asked what happened to my Results ? I told her and tears rolled over her face. It was disappointing since it is taken for granted that teachers son/ daughter are good in studies and can never fail. And here I was exception to the perceived rule.
I took some bad hits on my face from my mother and was inconsolable. As the news of my failure reached our neighbours within the locality people came to sympathise and showed lot of empathy. At that time I did not realise the value of time lost and how hard was for my parents to earn our daily bread and educate me.
More than me my parents were jolted and in our family, failing in this education system was the last thing to happen.
Failing for the first time is difficult but later I learnt it did lot good to me. That time I was not ashamed as Ganesh and Mahesh were there to share my misery . But today am not ashamed as this very failure brought many changes in my life.
And for once I felt good ,that ,"I failed!"
Now the result being handed over I was curious to know, " Was there anybody who could lighten my load of shame or share my agony " In that moment of crisis I could see 2 more disappointed faces, Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh Gupta and I do not recall the girl name who also could not get through. But it was a relief to note that other two would be my class mates once again.
There was no remorse on my face. Although Manpada road in Dombivli was crowded as usual so that one get easily lost in the crowd, yet I felt never so lonely on the road to my house.
I came home my father was busy giving final touches to civil ( cement masonry) work he had undertaken with all ingenuity. He asked lovingly, " What happened?" And very loosely I uttered," I failed!" Adding ," Ganesh Malphatak and Mahesh too have failed!" Ganesh's father and my father were room mates when they were bachelors at" Athavale lodge" near Ganesh Mandir. ( now there is no athavale lodge)
My father was disappointed , to his existing bundle of miseries I had added another. He had lost his bread winning job and didn't know what exactly do and there I was standing shamelessly bringing disrepute to parents and putting further financial strain to the family.
Socially my father was well respected for his knowledge and integrity and honesty. His emotions became intense. He hit me moderately once at my left arm. I stood motionless holding my head down. He had a piece of advice," We brahmins have only got one thing, education!; If you don't work hard towards that , success will elude you." The only good thing about failing was I need not purchase new text books.
Now I was relieved and changed myself and went straight to play cricket with my Gokhale wadi mates. They too asked about my result. I told them ," I failed". Astonished, they were , found it difficult to believe that I had come to play a round of cricket shamelessly.
Mother came to house exhausted. She was a teacher in Manjunatha Vidyalaya for pre-primary section. She smilingly asked what happened to my Results ? I told her and tears rolled over her face. It was disappointing since it is taken for granted that teachers son/ daughter are good in studies and can never fail. And here I was exception to the perceived rule.
I took some bad hits on my face from my mother and was inconsolable. As the news of my failure reached our neighbours within the locality people came to sympathise and showed lot of empathy. At that time I did not realise the value of time lost and how hard was for my parents to earn our daily bread and educate me.
More than me my parents were jolted and in our family, failing in this education system was the last thing to happen.
Failing for the first time is difficult but later I learnt it did lot good to me. That time I was not ashamed as Ganesh and Mahesh were there to share my misery . But today am not ashamed as this very failure brought many changes in my life.
And for once I felt good ,that ,"I failed!"
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Anology:- Heavy Trucks and Traditional Management
It was Monday morning blues as usual. Heading towards office in the company provided transport facility I was half asleep on to Hosur road. Hosur Road in Bangalore is famed for its perennial traffic congest ions and accidents. And mind you other roads are no good to claim fame.And this Monday was no different. There was a accident and the traffic was moving slowly. Eyes half opened I could see in front of me a Truck.
There was nothing special about the truck it was the same very commonly sighted Tata truck well decorated by the owner. Only the paint had worn out.
As Taj Pasha our driver drove past the slow moving truck on the Hosur road some thoughts just flickered in my mind. There are lot of common things between Heavy Commercial Vehicle(HCV) commonly called Truck and traditionally managed big company's in India.
At first it is the graffiti and the mural painted on the truck which attracted me the most. Right above the Driver cabin the hood proclaims to whom the truck belongs to, it will read PATEL Roadways, Sree Venkateshwara Roadlines, Bannari Amman Transport in bright colours. As if it proclaims its lineage and pedigree of a sought. And Traditional company's are no different it also proclaims its lineage proudly to the people at large may not be to the all stake holders.
The support staff helper ensures that the the fellow driver cleans the front glass frequently. This ensures that the driver has clear cut vision while driving the truck. And no driver has to remind the support helper he will do on his own routinely. In organisation we have executive secretary who somewhat helps in filtering and managing the necessary information reqd for smooth functioning of company.
It is Brightly painted at the back of the truck ," Keep Distance" it can be debated whether the warning is a self prophecy or for others. As the organisation grows it distances itself from customer for the very purpose it was formed. Customer is the goal of any business activity but it distances itself with too tall structure in Organisational design and chart. Also it can be warning others with its own prejudice that ," We are big, no one can harm us!"
That reminds me of the David and Goliath story where David being small takes on Giant Goliath and overpowers the giant. David is clear that instead of being afraid of Big, think that he cannot be missed( to hit). Organisation distancing its self from ground reality makes its difficult to take decisions.
You sit in the cockpit of the truck there chances are that you will become deaf and immune with such engine noise. In traditionally managed organisation it is the top management which makes the noise which is unbearable to others. Its a top down approach in the functional organisational pyramid. But modern organisations have a bottoms-up approach. Where there is lot of noise and activity at the back. Compare it with Back engine heavy duty vehicles. Which is better?
How many heavy vehicles you see are fuel efficient ? Not only it consumes lot of fuel but pollutes a lot if ill maintained. And same is true will traditionally managed company's. Indian roads are definitely smaller and requires lot of skill to drive and in narrow roads its extremely difficult for truck drivers. Visit some APMC yard after rains you will know. In organisation it takes lots of energy and resources to stay fit, be agile and welcome changes within its functioning which is rare to see.
One more thing which we notice is a nicely written in bold white Speed Limit 40kms. Who has limited the speed? the load you carry or the roads or it is the govt? Organisations face the same problem they rarely take the chances of going at a higher speed when the roads are clear for them. Also many organisations overload more than they can carry. Some can be just free boarders.
My fellow passengers Balu and Ramu woke me up as my destination had come. Rubbing my eyes and correcting the hairs I walked down few steps and I put my fingers into the Bio-metric attendance marking system which is installed at the security office at the main entrance. The machine responded on the speaker, "Thank you". And for those the machine did not recognise the finger print responded, " Please try again".
If could accept my views, " Thank you" if not ," Please Try again"! That's what traditionaly managed top company MD tell.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
My first swimming lesson
Mumbai summers are typically sultry and hot. We lived in Gokhale wadi on Manpada road, Dombivili the middle class population paradise. Mangalore tiled roofs made matters worse where my father and myself would splash water on the top of the roof on Saturdays and Sundays so as to maintain cool inside. However it was our USHA brand fan which provided much comfort and it is still working for today. My father is expert in making lemon juice. I would always tease my mother on this.
My fellow Gokhale Wadi ( wadi is a cluster of dwellings now not to be seen) buddies always had a novel way to pass the time in Summer holidays. Anil Lonkar was a expert swimmer and he was one of the smoothest divers and rarely would the water splash. In our town there was a swimming pool but we could not afford Rs8/- per hour in 1988 for using the pool and we never had pocket money more than 50 odd paise at our disposal.
Anil knew a quite lot of open "wells" where he used to go for swimming. In "Marathi" it is called , " Vihir"(well) in Hindi it is called, "Bawdi". The simmering summer ensured Anil always carried a spare inner wear so that if he goes for a swim he kept it handy. He broached upon the idea of going to , Mothi Vihir( big well) located now in Gandhi nagar main road. For a non swimmer like me the "mothi vihir" looked like a big pond. It must have been more than 35 feet diameter well and how deep only Anil could tell it. He had the knack of bringing back the silvery coins once thrown into the well and he would wait for clear 10 seconds before he could dive into that greenish water and retrieve the coin.
It was Anil Lonkar our senior who undertook the arduous task of training us Swimming. At first being the lone child to our parents I sensed some moral responsibility to inform them about my proposed training regime with Anil being the coach. My parents said, Strict NO! that was disheartening to me and I had said "Yes" to Anil and others. Parents apprehensions were well founded as they would tell the stories of their childhood how some one went to learn swimming and got drowned. And they as protective as ever never wanted me to experiment that sought of mis-adventure of learning to swim. I did mention that Anil was a expert swimmer but my father was stubborn. The next best thing was to convince my mother at least allow me to watch them swimming. She obliged with a rider.
Anil had wisely invested in handmade rope made of coconut shell fibres which is locally called," Rassi" pronounced " Ras-see" both in Marathi and Hindi language for such summer training programmes. Now it cost a lot to learn swimming. But there was easily approachable Anil who had volunteered to coach us on swimming.
Although I had promised that I will not enter the Well somehow I was determined to take a dip in the water and come back. Secretly I had managed to smuggle a inner wear out of our cupboard without my mother noticing it. Anil the expert he was tied the rope to my waist with a noose knot. There I was standing on the parapet wall of the well. When I saw below some 8 feet it unnerved me. Was it worth learning swimming. Sudden anxiety coupled with fear was sitting right in my head. Anil dived into those green water. And he instructed me to take the plunge. Unsure what will happen. I feared the water will enter my nose and with no ground to support my feet below the moment was fidgety. Again I trusted Anil on this ignoring the warning issued by my mother. I took the plunge!
Inside water, i could feel blood rushing in to my heart. I could hear water sound making all noises. Fortunately Anil had instructed me what to do after taking the plunge. I did exactly that after forced drinking of well water. I could also feel the tension of the rope on my waist. Somebody was pulling me up. And gasping for breath i could see the surface and the ordeal was over. No words could thank Babu who was at the helm of affairs of handling that heavy rope.
Somehow my parents came to know that I had gone for learning to swim. Somebody had leaked the information. And thus came to an end the Swimming experience. Till date I get dreams where I swim in the very well I took first plunge into.
Other fortunate ones who were quite younger to me learnt the swimming. But life has different things in store. That time I was novice now I swim against the current society,which I learnt on my own. And there is no Anil to coach me! And neither it is a Well, but its a ocean.
Fishing in Vegatarian Domain
In India passing 10th grade is a landmark event in its education system. I had taken written exams along with my fellow housing colony buddies in early1988. It was a sense of relief for each one of us to be out of vigorous ordeal of by hearting moderately sized books to score more than adequate marks for a bright future.
The time was free-wheeling and we needed to experiment. At that point of time 10th grade results would take 3 months to announce. Thanks that there were no computers in the higher secondary education dept, else there was every chance of spoiling the apple cart of free wheeling enjoyment of our motley group. It had already started raining which is quite familiar sight in the month of June in Mumbai( Bombay).
The unexpected pre-mansoon heavy showers in May had ensured several ponds where we could go out for fishing. Shailesh who belonged to Malvan region in Ratnagiri Dist of Maharashtra would go crazy after fishes. In Malvan the staple diet of locals is Fish. He knew different variety of fishes and being senior with a gym body he always had a upper hand as compared to lean brahmin boy (myself) .
His knowledge was not limited to fishes alone he would also explain us how to fish. This is where the adventure began of fishing in troubled waters. He asked to get the hook and twain needed to catch the fish. During that time the present day Gandhi nagar in Dombivili town used to be open field with trees dotted at the periphery. But now the very place is concrete jungle depriving me of refreshing my childhood days. And even bicyle was a luxury and we set out on foot with a clear goal in our mind to reach out those hapless earth worms who would be picked up as per our fishing mentor instructions. Shailesh was a man with high level of common sense. He knew what the fish liked. Earthworms!
With bare hands we pulled out that hapless creatures out of their comfort zone and put them in the small bottle. Shailesh took us to the distant pond where he used to go for fishing on weekend. Within few minutes he got his first catch of the day. We adored his skills and tried our hand in vain. But soon his on the job training helped us to gain enough confidence to fish on our own.
Suddenly we got one big fish weighing nearly 500 gms plus. On the spot Shailesh decided that he wanted to eat for himself. I became nervous as being a casteist brahmin to the core this revolt was signifying things which were just indicators what was expected of me.
The upbringing ensured that Non-Veg was bad and I trusted them to the core. Coming from the priestly family made things difficult in such situations. But the exhilaration and the adventure took us in different milieu. Shailesh took us to his friends place. The frying pan was handy so was the salt and pepper. Frying the fish was difficult to watch as I was not accustomed and the smell emanating from it made me uneasy.
But I had to show that I was brave. After preparing the fish and garnishing with coriander leaves with a tinge of lemon it, was ready. He offered me the small piece of fish. By now I was palpitating. I remembered my father mother and I felt I was doing something wrong. But I had to show that I was brave. I did not want the guilt to overpower my adventure.Lot went through me and as a act of courage I took small morsel of fish.
By the time I returned home I was down with fever. It remained unexplained why? Probably guilt took me over. that was the last time i ever had fish or non veg.
The time was free-wheeling and we needed to experiment. At that point of time 10th grade results would take 3 months to announce. Thanks that there were no computers in the higher secondary education dept, else there was every chance of spoiling the apple cart of free wheeling enjoyment of our motley group. It had already started raining which is quite familiar sight in the month of June in Mumbai( Bombay).
The unexpected pre-mansoon heavy showers in May had ensured several ponds where we could go out for fishing. Shailesh who belonged to Malvan region in Ratnagiri Dist of Maharashtra would go crazy after fishes. In Malvan the staple diet of locals is Fish. He knew different variety of fishes and being senior with a gym body he always had a upper hand as compared to lean brahmin boy (myself) .
His knowledge was not limited to fishes alone he would also explain us how to fish. This is where the adventure began of fishing in troubled waters. He asked to get the hook and twain needed to catch the fish. During that time the present day Gandhi nagar in Dombivili town used to be open field with trees dotted at the periphery. But now the very place is concrete jungle depriving me of refreshing my childhood days. And even bicyle was a luxury and we set out on foot with a clear goal in our mind to reach out those hapless earth worms who would be picked up as per our fishing mentor instructions. Shailesh was a man with high level of common sense. He knew what the fish liked. Earthworms!
With bare hands we pulled out that hapless creatures out of their comfort zone and put them in the small bottle. Shailesh took us to the distant pond where he used to go for fishing on weekend. Within few minutes he got his first catch of the day. We adored his skills and tried our hand in vain. But soon his on the job training helped us to gain enough confidence to fish on our own.
Suddenly we got one big fish weighing nearly 500 gms plus. On the spot Shailesh decided that he wanted to eat for himself. I became nervous as being a casteist brahmin to the core this revolt was signifying things which were just indicators what was expected of me.
The upbringing ensured that Non-Veg was bad and I trusted them to the core. Coming from the priestly family made things difficult in such situations. But the exhilaration and the adventure took us in different milieu. Shailesh took us to his friends place. The frying pan was handy so was the salt and pepper. Frying the fish was difficult to watch as I was not accustomed and the smell emanating from it made me uneasy.
But I had to show that I was brave. After preparing the fish and garnishing with coriander leaves with a tinge of lemon it, was ready. He offered me the small piece of fish. By now I was palpitating. I remembered my father mother and I felt I was doing something wrong. But I had to show that I was brave. I did not want the guilt to overpower my adventure.Lot went through me and as a act of courage I took small morsel of fish.
By the time I returned home I was down with fever. It remained unexplained why? Probably guilt took me over. that was the last time i ever had fish or non veg.
My first date !
Adolescence is the time when things grow faster than one notices, time passes fast , literally!
Just as I began to explore the beauty around me it became evident that there are many more brilliant shades in ones life that needs to be experienced.
I was in 9th grade when my mind preoccupied with the burning desire for a date. Too young for a date and the metropolitan magazine made me feel no good and was inclined to feel the glamour behind dating. Few blocks away a young lass was known to me. Having read about dating and backed by few frivolous acquaintance made me to courageously ask the lass to come for a date.
The moment was tense and could feel the sudden gush of blood in the body to the char gin of the lass. With excitement made some opening statements to comfort her followed by the proposal for date. She looked shocked and was oblivious of thing called , "dating". Comforting her further I said," Come for a stroll at the local park at 6 pm."
Being dark skinned and she being fair, with modern cosmetics I made some
unsuccessful attempts at making my face glow like a moon. Being my first adventure of this kind I started off with a friend in toe just to keep my spirit high and to meet any eventuality.
Reached in time at the designated place I kept frequently looking at the watch and the road which would lead her to me. Being a electronic watch with a digital display it made me more modern and tech savvy at that point of time in our town.
Neatly dressed she came but not alone. She also must have felt the same nervousness as I had, she had got her senior with her. She looked menacing and looks made me more nervous. I had reserved a bench to the much amusement of Old retired people wearing Gandhi Cap who spent their every evening split between the glorious past they lived and the bleak future they saw for the future, totally neglecting the present where my heart beats were pulsating with life and undergoing a new experience.
I encouraged myself to be bold enough to initiate a dialogue with her which was appropriate to the context and occasion. The presence of our respective escorts in toe dampened the spirits and the effect of the rehearsed lines which I had by hearted early evening. The glee on the face of my friend made her very uncomfortable and she knew something was amiss. Lost within that crowed park she called off the so called " date " abruptly. Whisking her was her friend in toe who did not stop glaring at me and exited out of the ever crowded park in our town.
But there was a pat on my back from my friend, " Buddy, you are really bold" But that very boldness cost me one year in my education. I could not meet the dates but could hardly manage a date.
Just as I began to explore the beauty around me it became evident that there are many more brilliant shades in ones life that needs to be experienced.
I was in 9th grade when my mind preoccupied with the burning desire for a date. Too young for a date and the metropolitan magazine made me feel no good and was inclined to feel the glamour behind dating. Few blocks away a young lass was known to me. Having read about dating and backed by few frivolous acquaintance made me to courageously ask the lass to come for a date.
The moment was tense and could feel the sudden gush of blood in the body to the char gin of the lass. With excitement made some opening statements to comfort her followed by the proposal for date. She looked shocked and was oblivious of thing called , "dating". Comforting her further I said," Come for a stroll at the local park at 6 pm."
Being dark skinned and she being fair, with modern cosmetics I made some
unsuccessful attempts at making my face glow like a moon. Being my first adventure of this kind I started off with a friend in toe just to keep my spirit high and to meet any eventuality.
Reached in time at the designated place I kept frequently looking at the watch and the road which would lead her to me. Being a electronic watch with a digital display it made me more modern and tech savvy at that point of time in our town.
Neatly dressed she came but not alone. She also must have felt the same nervousness as I had, she had got her senior with her. She looked menacing and looks made me more nervous. I had reserved a bench to the much amusement of Old retired people wearing Gandhi Cap who spent their every evening split between the glorious past they lived and the bleak future they saw for the future, totally neglecting the present where my heart beats were pulsating with life and undergoing a new experience.
I encouraged myself to be bold enough to initiate a dialogue with her which was appropriate to the context and occasion. The presence of our respective escorts in toe dampened the spirits and the effect of the rehearsed lines which I had by hearted early evening. The glee on the face of my friend made her very uncomfortable and she knew something was amiss. Lost within that crowed park she called off the so called " date " abruptly. Whisking her was her friend in toe who did not stop glaring at me and exited out of the ever crowded park in our town.
But there was a pat on my back from my friend, " Buddy, you are really bold" But that very boldness cost me one year in my education. I could not meet the dates but could hardly manage a date.
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