The Only Sensational Moment Of Dhoom-3

Dhoom-3 is technically superb - but left me cold.  Soul-less - unlike its less-slick predecessors.

The 3 kids sitting in front too seemed to share my view - they were sitting slumped in their seats while watching the movie.  2 of them were teenagers, and the 3rd was a small brat - possibly the kid brother of one of the teens.

The only time the teens perked up was when Abishek Bachan asked Aamir Khan to remove his shirt and jacket to check if he had a bullet wound.

But their interest was short-lived ....

"No Cavity Check - I thought that was compulsory in the US" said one teen to the other in a disappointed voice, slumping back in his seat.

"What can you expect with these poorly paid Indian policemen brought all the way from India" replied the other teen, slumping back too in his seat.

"I have cavities too" said the small brat and showed off his mouthful of teeth.

Paisa vasool finally for me.....

To My Daughter On Her 18th Birthday

My dear Anupa,

You have turned 18 today – and I am still trying to reconcile with this fact.  One moment you were the small girl uncertain of her place in the world – and then next moment – poof, you have become this beautiful, self-confident young lady.  When did that happen?

To a dad, all children are special – but a Daughter is special in a very different way to her dad - ask any dad.  Bringing up a daughter is so different : Sons seem to grow slower – or at least they seem to grow in stages, and one is always aware that he is slowly maturing into a young adult.  But daughters? Boom - one day – the little girl is a young lady.

And then fathers of daughters are always conscious that they are in a race with time.  I cannot explain it here – but I know fathers of daughters will understand what I mean. 

Seeing you grow made me realize how quick and transient life is. No matter how much time I have spent with you, I still want  to clutch on to Time and say “hey there, can you please stop running – I want some more time with my little daughter … “   

Dads are always greedy when it comes to their daughters – just can’t help it.

Here’s wishing you a wonderful 18^th Birthday my lovely one – and a fantastic life ahead for you.

Your loving,

Aanu

Why The Wife Walks Behind Her Husband

I got the blinding revelation suddenly.  Cars in the fast lane are compelled to perpetually move at a fast pace because of the car behind them coming at a fast pace.  So the car in the front is pressurised to travel fast because of the "forward pressure" exerted by the car behind it.....

I thought I will use this "forward pressure" principle to good use for a 20 year problem that I have been facing ...

You see, when I and my wife go out walking, it typically starts out with us walking side by side like this ....

But then, within moments we are walking like this, with me in the front, and my wife following about 10 feet behind me:

The result is, our net cumulative speed is always slow .......

Today having keenly observed what happens in the fast lane, I thought I will use the "forward pressure" principle. Henceforth I am going to walk behind my wife so that I exert a forward pressure on my wife to walk faster.

You would have expected that this tactic of mine would now force my wife to walk faster..

But I was mistaken.....

"What are you doing?" she said, turning around and looking at me suspiciously.

"Nothing - am just walking behind you" I said, unwilling to give the game away.

"No, there is something wrong" she says, and walks even slower until I am forced to brake in order to avoid bumping into her.

"So, what is wrong, tell me?" she says now and keenly scans the surroundings.  And then I had the 2nd blinding revelation that day - wives walk behind their husbands to keep a close watch on them - after all there may be quite a few "untoward distractions" on the road for the husband.....

So we are back to square one now - and please notice the triumphant glee on someone's face :

And whoever compared a car to a woman is an absolute idiot.

The Day I took on All India Radio

The favourite past-time for me and my brothers when we were kids was to engage in a battle of “Who will disturb the other's song?" contest.  This typically entails 2 brothers simultaneously singing - but with each brother singing a different song.  Each brother will sing at the top of his voice to disturb the singing of the other – so you can imagine the cacophony.  

The climax is reached when one brother - not being able to focus on his own song (because of the cacaphony) is suddenly forced to switch to singing the other brother’s song – so now both brothers are singing the same song.  So one brother “wins” and the other brother (who was forced to change his track) “loses”. 

Being the bigger of the brothers (and hence with a bigger voice then) I took pride in my track-record of “winning” such encounters.

The HMV radio set took pride of place

Once when I was all of 5 years old I took on the might of All India Radio.  I always imagined that the song over the radio was delivered "live" by the singer (i.e. the singer sitting in the studio and singing live) - and the sound came via a hollow cable straight from the radio studio.  Hence the singer will be able to hear us through the radio if we shout loudly. 

So once while our large HMV (His Master’s Voice) radio set was playing a hit number by Kishore Kumar (India's number 1 singer those days), I stood close to the radio set and started singing another Kishore film song at the top of my voice.  My rationale was simple – if I sing at the top of my voice, Kishore Kumar sitting in the studio would get disturbed and confused, and would switch his track to sing along with me the song I selected.

My ego took a big beating that day – Kishore Kumar turned out to be a bigger competitor than I imagined.  He just kept coolly singing his own song, and it was I who kept getting disturbed and losing my track.  I finally gave up the battle.

It was only months later that I understood that the radio is a one-way communication device.

Nowadays whenever I am in a situation where I should only listen and not talk (which is frequent enough), I am reminded of the day I unsuccessfully challenged All India Radio. 

Weighty Matters

The girl promoting VLCC at the nearby supermarket seemed to know who to target with her sales pitch for a weight-loss program. She stands at the entrance and selectively approaches only certain people.

I overheard one of the ladies who was approached by the VLCC girl mournfully remarking to the daughter "Till last week that VLCC girl did not even look at me - but today she approached me.  I have therefore definitely put on weight."

I wonder whether the VLCC girl is aware of the dread she must be causing to anyone walking into the store : Will she, Won't she? 

I surreptitiously looked at my paunch. Better not risk it. I took a deep breath and flattened my tummy as much as I could, and then tip-toed quietly out of the store.  

My brush with Leadership

I live in a building which has a paranoia for security.  To exit the basement car-park, one has to pass through a tunnel (similar to the one which Mandrake the Magician had in his Xanadu).  And as in Xanadu, there are 2 automatic metal gates at either end of the tunnel. 

Entrance to tunnel with gate open

Today morning for some reason the gate at the far end of the tunnel got stuck and there were 5-6 cars queued up in the tunnel, wanting to get out.  Seeing that the tunnel was almost full, I stopped my car just before the first gate in the basement.

A Land-Cruiser came up behind me, and honked impatiently.  I did not want an argument early in the morning so I advanced my car past the first gate, and into the tunnel.  Now there was no place in the tunnel for another car to enter – so the Land Cruiser behind had to wait just before the 1st metal grill in the basement.

One more honk.  Of course I could not do anything now, so I stayed put.

In my rear view mirror, I could see the door of the Land Cruiser opening and a guy stepping out.  Since I don’t know his name, let me call him “Leadership Material” or “LM” for short.

He walked into the tunnel and surveyed the scene.  There were a group of drivers and some building technicians trying to force the rebellious gate at the far end of the tunnel to open – but the gate was refusing to co-operate with them.

LM came and tapped at my car window, and said : “Mai jaldi mein hoon.  Kuch tho karna chahiye”  - he said it in a tone that indicated his displeasure that there are lazy guys like me sitting around and doing nothing to solve the problem.

While I was thinking of a suitable response in my hesitant Hindi, he marched up to the gate at the far end, past the 5-6 cars parked in the tunnel.  He then barked some orders at the technicians, who chose to ignore him.

Meanwhile, the 1st gate behind me (at the beginning of the tunnel) started automatically closing behind me.  LM saw it closing, and started running back trying to reach his car before the metal grill closed, but in vain. 

So now we had this situation where LM was in the tunnel – with a metal grill firmly separating him from his car. 

LM came up and again tapped on my window “Lo – gate tho bandh ho gaya.  Abh mai kya karoon?” he asked me in an accusative tone.  I sympathised with him : there was no way he could reach his car now except by walking up the tunnel, walking past the 2nd metal gate (when it does open up), getting onto the road, walking around the building to the main entrance, and then taking the elevator down to the basement car park to reach his car.

Meanwhile the technicians had disabled the exit gate at the far end and lifted it up – so the cars now started to move out of the tunnel.  I too drove out.

My last vision of LM in the rear view mirror was of him panting his way up the tunnel. 

Did I Just Miss The Bus?

I walked briskly towards the bus stop.  There is a bus at 8.55, and the next one is 20 minutes later.  Missing the bus at 8.55 would mean a long 20 minute wait in the sweltering Dubai heat.

I was still a couple of minutes from reaching the bus stop when I saw with dismay the 8.55 departing from the bus stop. I had just missed it.  

The 20 minute wait at the deserted bus-stop was very agonizing.  I was very frustrated – and each minute of the 20 was painful, and spent kicking myself for having missed the bus.

What made the wait painful was the certainty that this is a 20 minute wait – and I was certain of that because I saw the bus departing – and I knew with certainty that the next one is not due until 20 minutes later.

But supposing I had not seen the bus depart from the bus stop? I would have then arrived at the bus station, and waited hopefully expecting the 8.55 to turn up in the next “few” minutes (probably it is a few minutes late today?).  The next few minutes would have turned into 20 minutes eventually – and I would have ended up taking the same bus anyway.  But I would have still waited with anticipation, and these 20 minutes would have passed more pleasantly.

As far as I am concerned I am happy with not knowing whether I just missed the bus - or when precisely the next bus would arrive. I have started to embrace unpredictability. It makes me hopeful of unexpected and exciting turn of events – and it makes any wait worthwhile.

3 Reveries

Yesterday Gaurang, Vandana & I went to attend a Rashid Khan concert at the DUCTAC theatre and as we waited for the concert to begin the 3 of us were lost in our own reveries.  Here is a 1st person recount of our revery as narrated by each of us:

As narrated by Ram

I was woken up from my revery by a voice over the sound system announcing that the accompanying artistes for harmonium and tabla have suddenly had a stomach upset and have been taken to the hospital.  So is there anyone in the audience who can play the harmonium and the tabla, and would be kind enough to volunteer their services to accompany Ustad Rashid Khan?

Being my usual modest self, I kept quiet - but then several people from the audience chanted my name and pleaded with me to save the occasion by providing my harmonium services - and I was therefore forced to come on to the stage, along with my son (who plays the tabla) and accompany the famed Ustad and hold the audience spell-bound with our magnificent performance.

As narrated by Gaurang, the son

I was mulling over what should be the next topic for my poem when I was disturbed from my pleasant thoughts by my dad rudely shaking me, and telling me that the harmonium and tabla players have taken ill, and that now is our chance to shine in front of an audience by displaying our harmonium and tabla skills respectively.

We tried to make our way to the stage to take our place near Rashad Khanji - but we had to literally fight our way to the stage as there were several other harmonium and tabla players from the audience who also wanted to show off their skills in the presence of Rashid Khanji.  I just don't know from where so many harmonium and tabla players appeared.  Somehow through some adroit maneuvering by my dad we managed to outwit all other rivals and grabbed our seats next to Rashid Khanji and started playing - my dad on the harmonium, and I on the tabla.  Rashid Khan on hearing our performance suddenly developed an inferiority complex and therefore left the stage - leaving just me and my dad to regale the audience with our skills.

As narrated by Vandana, the wife

My son is as crazy as his dad.  I mean, who would be foolish enough to fight his way to the stage and grab the seats next to the great Rashid Khanji to show off their amateur harmonium and tabla  skills?  I was very embarrassed and wanted to disappear into the floor.  But fortunately the great Rashid Khanji decided that enough is enough of this tom-foolery and called off the show, and give us a full refund.  We collected the refund and walked into the nearest branch of Damas Jewellery and wisely invested the money (and some more of it) on a beautiful jewellery item.

Saving Time

For me, going to a hair cutting saloon is a necessary evil - it has to be quick, efficient and should not make me look any worse than I looked before I entered the saloon.  In the short time I have been here in Dubai I have used 2 different saloons during my last 2 hair-cutting occasions.

This time I was in a dilemma - which one should I go to?  Both of them are situated on the same street, charge the same fee, have equally pleasant barbers, and both were similar in terms of the end-result.

Standing in front of the outlets, I did a quick assessment.

Saloon A had a barber who was quick.  I know from my previous experience he took only 20 minutes to cut my hair.  But there is a 20 minute waiting time as there was at least one other person waiting his turn ahead of me.  So total time in his shop = 40 minutes.

Saloon B had a barber who was relatively slow.  From experience I know he takes 40 minutes to cut my hair - but there is no waiting time as I could see the saloon was empty.  So total time in his shop is also 40 minutes.

As I mentioned the end result of A or B was identical - both cut my hair equally well - and both will consume an equal amount of my time - 40 minutes.  So which one do you think I selected?

This is the way I arrived at my decision : in Saloon A I would be idly waiting my turn for 20 minutes - that is like waste of time for me.  In Saloon B there is no waste of time as I will be engaged all of the 40 minutes.

So to save my time I chose Saloon B.

Letter To A Daughter

My dear Anupa,

Yesterday was your first day in your engineering college hostel - the first time ever you are staying away from your parents.  I know how you must have felt - you must have gone through the same emotions that you experienced when we heartlessly deposited you at the nursery 15 years ago and you cried your heart out. It seems only like yesterday ......

When you start this new phase of your life you will doubtlessly experience the same feelings that thousands of daughters and sons are going through right now.  The coming few days staying in an unfamiliar place are bound to be both exciting and confusing.  You will feel lonely, ignored, isolated.  You will wonder where are the "your" kind of friends who seemed to be in abundance in your school, but who seem to be totally missing in your new institution.  You will feel trapped, and you will wonder what are you doing in such a place. There will be periods when you will be tempted to say that you have had enough of this institution - however, hallowed it might be - and would want to desperately escape into the comforting arms of your parents.

Tomorrow when you walk out of your hostel room into the canteen scan the surroundings eagerly.  That apparently snooty girl who is looking down over her long nose at you might very well turn out to be a girl with a golden heart. And that girl who pointedly ignored you when you wanted companionship - for all you know, she may be going through the same emotions you are going through, and wondering whether she will ever have a friend in this unfamiliar place, little realising that her future best friend is standing very next to her.

Two months down the road, you will wonder why you ever felt lonely and confused.  By that time you would have made several life-long  friends with whom you will noisily share the canteen Upma which right now seems so distasteful and lumpy.  Be yourself, Anupa, and only do what you are comfortable doing - and 4 years down the road you will wonder how quickly some of your best moments of your life have passed.

Your loving Aanu.

Balcony Birds

I moved recently into an apartment in Bur Dubai.  The apartment has a tiny balcony - and like most Asians I plan to use this balcony to dry my laundry.

The balcony is home to a couple of pigeons.  They seem to be a couple, and sit huddled together most of the time in a corner of the balcony.

I love observing them - they give me a sense of peace and harmony. They seem to be my only connection with nature.

The pigeons fly out just a couple of times a day - probably to grab a quick bite.  And then they rush back to my balcony - almost as if they are afraid of losing their place on the balcony to some rival. This initially puzzled me as they seem to be the only pair in the apartment complex.

And then I realized that my balcony is the only one still "open" in the whole apartment complex - all other balconies have been closed off with nets - obviously to prevent birds from nesting.

The building caretaker informed me that there used to be dozens of these birds in the apartment complex - but over a period of time they have all left the building after the tenants started fencing off the balconies.  The pair on my balcony seem to be the last of them.

I am now facing the same challenge that prompted other apartment owners to close their balconies - these pigeons mess up the balcony, and soil up the laundry.  In fact I am currently forced to dry my laundry in my bedroom - a luxury I can ill-afford given the tiny apartment size.

So it is just a matter of time before I too close off this pigeon pair's last refuge.  I will do this reluctantly and with much regret, consoling myself that the last of the pigeon pair will eventually find a more hospitable host in an apartment complex elsewhere in this city.

Possibilities

In the restaurant at the hotel where I am staying, I was led by the Maitre d' to a nice 2 seater table near the window.  I placed my laptop bag on the chair, and went to fill my plate.

On my return to the table I find a dainty woman's purse on the table.  Obviously, some lady had come in my absence, and decided to occupy the table - and has now gone to fill up her own plate after leaving her purse on the table.

She had obviously seen my dashing George Clooney hair style and wanted my company at the table.  Of course there was also the possibility (remote though I would like to believe) that she simply had failed to notice the laptop bag occupying the chair.

What do I do now?  Do I ....
1.Quickly move her purse to an adjoining table, sit at my table and pretend nothing has happened?
2.Let her purse remain on the table, and when she comes to the table tell her that this table was already occupied, and therefore she should shift to another table?
3.Same as point 2, but tell her that she is free to join me at my table if she is so keen to sit there?

I ruled out action step 1 - it was sneaky and indirect.  Action step 2 against a woman would be rude and against the Rao honor code.  And Action step 3 was fraught with too many possibilities .............

In the end I decided on action step 4 - I took my laptop bag and myself to another table at the far end of the room.  And then tried hard not to see who came to occupy my erstwhile table .....

Getting Muddled Up

Have been staying in a hotel since last week. Today morning I got into the elevator to go to the restaurant for breakfast.  The lift was quite crowded with a holidaying family.  The teen daughters were blocking the push buttons inside the lift - so I told them to press 18.

They just looked at me and did nothing.

Oh, they are Russian tourists who don't understand me - so I said slowly "Press 18 - One Eight".

The 2 teenage girls just stared at me, and did nothing.

I was panicking now - I did not want to miss my floor.

When people do not understand, speak louder.

"PLEASE PRESS 18 - I am going to the breakfast lounge" I said doing the gesture of putting food into my mouth.

The mother now intervened, and in perfect British English she said "18 is the floor you got on.  You need to go to the 8th floor for the breakfast - and as you can see that button is already pushed".

I rode the rest of the elevator journey minutely examining my shoes, and wondering what would be the expression on their faces.

I scurried out of the elevator as soon as it reached the 8th floor - and cunningly pretended not to hear the explosion of laughter that echoed out of the elevator.

Solace when it is needed

Ram Gopal Verma mentioned in an interview that Jiah Khan had come to meet him a few days before her death.  He admitted that he could have spent some more time with Jiah explaining why he had no roles for her and giving her the emotional support she so obviously needed when she came to meet him.  Perpetually short on time he sent her away thinking he would have the chat with her some other day.

Emotional support needs to be delivered when the person needs it most.  Sometimes it is so obvious when a person comes to you that all he/she wants is someone to just listen - a few kind words of empathy - or just "human" company and a cup of coffee.

Solace, companionship or "am there for you" has to be then and there - postponing it is as good as not ever giving it.

Leadership is Spice

The Konkani dish called "Dali Thoy" comes alive when there is a trace of hing (asafoetida), and methi seeds (fenugreek).  If these two spices are not added. the dish becomes bland and tasteless.  Too much of these spices and the dish becomes unpalatable. The whole magic of this dish is in getting the dish to just have a hint of these 2 spices.

Good Leadership is like the addition of spice to a dish.  Good leaders never demean themselves (or their junior associates) by usurping for themselves the role of the main ingredient.  They act as the spice - adding the je ne sais quoi effect with their subtle presence.  Such leaders don't display an urge to make their presence felt unless absolutely necessary - but in their absence they are missed.

Into The Wild

Saw this movie directed by Sean Penn based on a real-life incident about a youth who believes society is hypo-critical, and thinks that real truth is best experienced communing alone with nature in its pristine form.  He therefore abandons all connections with society and his family, and treks into the Alaskan wild where he spends 4 months alone.  He spends his time reading, and writing down his thoughts in a diary, while subsisting on a meager diet of berries and rodents - and all the while pretending to be happy.

Then while recovering from the effects of eating poisonous berries, he has the blinding revelation that "Happiness is real only when shared".  Unfortunately, this realization comes a bit too late for him, and by then he is too weak to trek his way back to civilization and to the people who love him.  He therefore dies alone, pining for human companionship and love.

Beautiful movie - it certainly makes one think about the critical, but often ignored, role played by human contact in our lives.

My life in Cairo - a Pictorial description

Outside office a lot of time was spent in the car doing the 40 minute commute.  Mahmoud my driver, was more than my driver - he was my friend and guide too.  I realise now that he is probably the person with whom I have spent the maximum time during the last two and half years.  Sadly for the last 2 months he has been advised by doctors not to drive due to his blood pressure.  I have been experimenting with various other drivers - however, none of them came up to the high standards set by Mahmoud in terms of discipline and time-sense.  He is one person to whom I owe a lot.  Just the fact that he will promptly turn up at my house at 8.15 am will force me to get up from bed everyday and stick to a disciplined schedule. 

I was pretty much a home bird.  Given the time I spent at home I furnished it in a way that I am most comfortable with - minimalist and almost spartan.

A lot of the time was spent in the kitchen - my vegetarian diet did not give me too many options in restaurants.  And as my wife testifies, I am very finicky when it comes to food - it has to be simple and almost bland

There are not too many Indian type vegetables available in Egypt - so I thrived mostly on Potato, aubergine, beans, cabbage and cauliflower which are available in plenty.  But I missed the karela, long beans etc 

What would I have done without the Indian made Panasonic food processor?  I used it solely for grinding the Dosa and Idli batter.  Like a true South Indian, I went crazy if I was deprived of my dosa for long, so my batter making skills improved dramatically.  However, getting the urad dal was a challenge. I got it from Dubai and built up a huge hoard of it.

Is there anything in the fridge?  My daily diet was mostly rice - packed curd rice for lunch, and rice and some vegetables in the night.  Many a time when I have returned tired from office, I have been saved by the rice in the fridge.  Give me curd rice and pickle - and I will survive anywhere.

An Indian restaurant opened-up near my house recently.  I went there a couple of times, but felt very uncomfortable.  Unlike other cities like New York, Mumbai or Dubai, the city of Cairo is still a very family oriented city - and single men dining in restaurants is not a common sight.  I had described my experience in my blog post here.  So it was back to home food for me.

Outside the kitchen my time was spent largely on Skype chatting with my family back home.  Skype was the greatest boon to me - and I would not have been able to cope with the bachelorhood without it.  I would wait expectantly for the call from my dear wife every morning.  Most of Friday and Saturday was spent on Skype too catching up with the children.

And then there was of course my harmonium.  This is what kept me going.  It was my sole companion whenever I felt down and out. I would put on music by famous musicians, and pretend I was accompanying them for a live show on the harmonium.  Once while I was practicing in the early morning the neighbours  complained, and from then on I started using headphones.  My favourite headphone broke and as I did not like any other headphone, I repaired my favourite headphone using a lot of yellow cellotape. 

Strangely enough I watched very little TV.  Watching TV made me think of home, and depressed me.  

I must have read the massive tome "Security Analysis" by Ben Graham at least twice.  I am thankful that I found the time to do some quality reading - especially on investment related subjects.

This is the view from the kitchen balcony.  My maid came every Friday morning to clean up the place, and would hang up the clothes to dry on the balcony.The maid was crucial in motivating me to keep the house neat - otherwise I would have ended up staying in a pig sty.

My Reebok shoes - During the summer I would go out for my long morning walks, followed by a bit of Yoga.  However, during winters I found that difficult because of the extreme cold.

The room heater - how would I have survived the harsh 8 degree winters without it?

Who is at the door - the laundry-man, the electricity man or someone else?  For a few months after the revolution I would use the peep-hole before opening the door - however, very soon this habit vanished as my confidence in the security situation improved. 

Because of the total communication cut-off that had happened during the revolution, the office thoughtfully provided a satellite phone in the event of an emergency.  I can proudly state that I never had to unpack the satellite phone from its original packing.

Initially when I had taken the residence I was concerned that there will be too much noise from the School opposite my house.  Later, I actually would look forward to hearing the noise of children from the school - and I was glad that I stayed in this apartment.

It is easy to go to pieces, or go astray when you are staying alone in such an environment.  Prayer saved me.

A couple of months ago all 3 wall clocks in my house, and my half dozen watches stopped functioning.  It was almost as if they were sending me a message.

I, Moving

Barely 2 weeks to go before I bid good-bye to Egypt, to take on a new role in Nielsen based out of Dubai.

I came into Egypt in December 2010 completely oblivious of the impending Revolution and the cataclysmic shake-up that it will unleash in our personal and professional lives, including mine.

I don't want to pretend to be the cool guy and claim that this period has been a cake-walk.  I admit the last two-and-half years have been tough, but it did help me understand myself better.

I don't want to be melodramatic either, and say I will shed tears on leaving Egypt - a country still close to my heart.  Egypt is now part of what I have become - for the better and for the worse - and I will be forever grateful for this.

Why every Harmonium sounds different - Tuning

Have you ever wondered why every harmonium sounds different in terms of the tonal quality.  The situation becomes worse when the same key e.g. Black 1 - is at different pitches in 2 harmoniums.  In this situation one cannot play both harmoniums together in the same program.

Have you ever put on a Hindustani classical piece on your music system, and then tried to accompany on your harmonium - and then found to your dismay that your harmonium pitch is at a completely different pitch from that of the vocalist, and you could not therefore play it?

And then of course you would have heard of the controversy around tuning - should harmoniums be tuned to 440 hz which is the Western Classical standard?  Do these harmoniums sound better than harmoniums tuned at a different pitch e.g. at 430 Hz?

This was the dilemma I faced when I acquired my new custom made Triple Reed Harmonium described in my post here.  Here is a short video explaining the concept behind tuning harmoniums - hopefully it would help remove some of the myths around harmonium tuning.

Custom-made Triple Reed harmonium

I took possession of my new custom made triple reed harmonium last week.  It was crafted at the Bombay Harmonium Works, Mangalore.

This harmonium features 3 sets of reeds - Chorus, Male and Female.  The Chorus and Male reeds are German reeds taken from another old harmonium, while the Female is a new Palitana set.  Old German reeds are the best - Indian reeds do not come anywhere close in quality.

Because the reeds are German, it is tuned to 430 Hz - and not the concert standard 440 Hz.

Here is a short video about the features of this harmonium, and why I consider this as a really special harmonium.

And here is a short video of I and my son doing riyaz - with I using this harmonium.

On Bearded Outlooks & Cloudy Futures

For some time I have been considering growing a beard. This is not just because it is now seen as an essential requirement to become a President in certain countries. It is also because I thought I could compensate for my lack of intellect by growing a beard. You see all my intellectual professors, and Gurus in the Market Research profession have all sported lush beards, and I think growing a beard will give me the respect that has long been elusive.

The question is : what kind of beard? Should it be the lush beard that I often see nowadays on Egyptian TV? Yeah, several of my professors had those kind of beards. I considered it for some time, then I decided against it. Growing such a beard might get me into trouble with all those clean shaven, bad moral people who roam the streets of Cairo targetting women and bearded men.

Then I considered growing a Frenchy beard - you know the goatee – the kind of half-beard that is there only on the chin? This kind of beard is especially popular among Market Researchers who use it to good effect while contemplating a scruffy problem. But then it has become a bit too common. What I need is something that will make me stand-out – that will make people to immediately say when they see me approaching "Here comes an intellectual worthy of our respect".

So I finally thought I would grow a sailor's beard - you know the kind of beard that senior Admirals in the Navy sport – the beard that imparts a look of distinction, and that would especially go well with my elegant silver hair. And maybe that kind of a beard will make the watchmen outside client offices allow me entry without first checking whether I have come there seeking a donation.

So I waited for my next 5 day long weekend and grew the beginnings of a sailor’s beard. But before I exposed myself to the general public I, like a true Market Researcher, thought it prudent to get an opinion as to how it suited me – some ego-massaging suggestion on how elegant I looked, and what I can do to further fine-tune my beard to make it look more elegant..

So over Skype I showed my 5 day stubble to my wife and my daughter.

My daughter took a look at my elegant gray stubble and wrinkled her nose “You look EVEN more old now” she said.

I cleverly pretended to avoid noticing the insult:“But does it not go well with my grey hair – and does it not give me an air of distinction?” I countered.

My wife now intervened.

“You know it certainly looks good on you – certainly makes you look mature” she said.

I was ecstatic. I always knew the wife had a better taste in beards than my daughter ….

“BUT ….” She added. She said it with that peculiar emphasis that I have learnt to dread ….

“Yes?” I challenged defensively. I was ready to counter any sarcastic comment about my looks and age with a scathing rejoinder…. .

“It looks good on you …. But…. you have a disgruntled look when you have a beard ” she said.

That took the wind out of me. One can have shabbily dressed leaders. One can even have leaders sporting grey hair. But a leader walking around with a disgruntled look? That will be career suicide.

So I shaved off my stubble immediately.

My wife seems to have forgotten the entire episode because she did not comment when she next saw me without my beard. Being more clever than my wife, I have of course not reminded her about this subject either. 

A Circus

I wrote this letter 15 years ago (before the blogging era) describing our visit to the circus with our then 2 year old daughter Ashwini (Anupa).  We recently discovered a copy of this letter while cleaning a cupboard.
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11th May 1998
Dear Preethi,

Yesterday, all of a sudden, I had the brilliant idea that it is time I educated my off-spring about animals.  And what better way than to take her to the friendly neighbouring Gemini circus?

Arrive at the circus with just 5 minutes to go for the start.  Start rushing for the ticket booths ....

But, Anupa has her priorities right : "Ice Cream" she commands.

The one-eyed robber at the ice cream stall sizes up Anupa's mood and decides that he can ask for a premium and get it easily : "Fifteen rupeees" he demands for a tiny ice cream cup which costs only Rs 11.

Then the rush to our seats past the smelly elephant, horse and hippopotamus stalls.

Very stuffy and hot inside the circus tent.  Anupa decides to pour some ice cream on my lap to cool me down.

"Anupa, look at the elephant riding the cycle".  Anupa looks at the elephant with a bored expression which seemed to say : "So what is so great about an elephant riding a tricycle - I can ride a tricycle better".  No quarrel with that.

5 minutes later Anupa decides she has seen enough elephants riding tricycles to last her a life-time.  "Let us go home" she says.

We buy her silence by bribing her with some biscuits.

The joker of the circus makes his appearance and carries out his buffoonery.  Anupa laughs.  We become happy that Anupa is at last enjoying the circus.  But alas we are mistaken.  She is only laughing at the small baby in the next seat who has started liberally drooling over the chair.  The circus is for the birds.

The joker is carrying out his buffoonery.  "Anupa, look at the joker".  Her response : "Pichs. I want pichs".

"Chips, chips anyone, hot chips" shouts a voice in my ear as a chips seller clambers over my feet and displays his wares to Anupa knowing he has got a captive audience.  These vendors are everywhere treading on someone's toes here and blocking somebody's view there.  Why, some of the enterprising vendors have even clambered on to the stage and are trying to sell some chips to the joker.

"Anupa, look at that horse standing on two legs".

Anupa gazes uninterestedly at the horse, and suppresses a yawn which seems to say "So what, I am also standing on two legs".  Then she looks at the chips seller and says : " Pichs, I want pichs".

"Anupa, look at those people jumping up and down on the trampoline".

"Pichs, Pichs" she says and starts jumping up and down on my lap.

Finally curtain call and we head back home.

The neighbouring uncle greets us on our return.  He asks Anupa : "So sweet heart, where did you go today?"

"Cirrrcussss" she says, gladdening her parents' hearts with her quick response.

And what did you see there?" the uncle asks.

She knew this question was a toughy, so she gives careful thought to the question before answering.

"Pichs" she says.

And they say kids love the circus?  Now I know why.

On The Racing Tracks in Cairo

As usual I am in the navigator's seat.  Sitting next to me was K, one of the fastest Formula-1 drivers in Egypt.

Our car got off to a screaming start from the pit, with the wheels spinning in a furious cloud of dust.  But the other cars were faster, bigger and more powerful - and raced ahead of us splattering dust and mud on us.  It was clear that the situation was desperate, and we will probably end up last if desperate measures are not immediately resorted to.

K's face was grim - he flashed me the inverted V sign - it means this is an emergency.  In Racing parlance this sign indicates that the driver assumes total command until the situation is retrieved. The navigator then assumes a passive role until our car once again gets back into a favorable position in the race.

He switched into 3rd and the deep throb of the turbo engines filled the entire cabin with a deafening din.  An oil tanker suddenly loomed ahead of us - don't know what these oil tankers are doing on a racing track.  K deftly twisted the steering handle and missed the huge truck by a few inches.  The truck driver blared his horns belligerently and tried to block our progress - but K is a pro - he jumped over the road divider, and shot ahead of the truck.

We were now screaming ahead and fast closing the gap.  The other cars may have more powerful engines, but they cannot match K's driving skills - a classic man vs machine contest.  We raced ahead - with K swerving the car rapidly between the other cars with astonishing skills.

Now there was only 1 car ahead of us - a black Ferrari.  But the Ferrari was far too ahead of us - so K switched on all cylinders.  We were racing so fast that the track was now a mere blur - and the gap between us and the Black Ferrari rapidly reduced, until the Ferrari was only a few inches ahead of us.

And then it happened.  The Ferrari suddenly braked.

K hit the brakes, and our car did a cart-wheel as K desperately tried to regain control.  The high pitched squeal of tortured brakes accompanied by the acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air, and the car came to a miraculous stop just millimeters from the Black Ferrari.

But the other cars behind had inexperienced drivers - their reaction time was simply too slow,  and they rammed into us, one after the other.  It was a classic 7 car pile-up on the race-track.

I got out the car to survey the damage.  No personal injury for me apart from a minor neck sprain due to the whip-lash action from the collision.  But the car was badly damaged.

I let K sort out the arguments with the drivers of the other damaged cars.  I hailed a taxi and left the scene.  One more routine day on the way to office.

My "Big Moment" Finally Happened

Big Moments are rare in my life - so forgive me if I give you a lengthy description of a momentous event that took place recently...

The setting : Cairo Airport.  I was on my way to Dubai, my harmonium in tow.

The security person in the Cairo airport responsible for frisking passengers requested for a small "gift" from my wallet which I - as usual - politely refused.  Normally the refusal is taken in good humor, but this time it was different ....

"Open that box" he commanded, pointing to my harmonium case.  Since my harmonium needs to be checked in - and given its delicate nature - I had spent a couple of hours packing it in bubble-sheets, foam, cloth etc.

"It is a music instrument - you just saw it on the X-ray scan, right?" I said.  That harmonium has gone through the same airport countless number of times without being stopped.

"Please open it" he said firmly.  I cut open one side of the packing that I had spent hours packing, and showed him the harmonium from the side so that he can see the keyboard.

"See - it is a music instrument - like a small piano" I said in an appealing voice, not wanting to remove all the packing.

"Open it fully" he said firmly, and seeing that I was struggling with the packing, he helpfully gave me a pen-knife so that I can tear the packing open.

There it lay open now devoid of all packing - my harmonium in its full glory surrounded by 3 policemen.

"Is this actually a music instrument?" said one knocking the keyboard vigorously.

"Wait" I said.  "it is a delicate instrument - it will break if you do that....."

The proof of the music instrument is in its playing...

Seizing the moment I sat down, opened the harmonium bellows and started playing.  My fingers moved smoothly, and I really belted it out on the harmonium : the presence of the policemen around me certainly gave me a protective feeling - in normal circumstances I have to play under a threatening atmosphere full of tomatoes.

So I played - sitting right there in the middle of the check-in lounge of the airport, with curious passengers walking past me.  Cairo airport reverberated for the first time ever to the sound of a harmonium.

And not a single rotten tomato this time - must have been quite a performance. In fact, the performance of my lifetime.   I was all set for a standing ovation.

Standing the policemen were - but no applause. Their attention was focused on a portly Police Officer who was hurrying towards us looking highly irritated - their boss, no doubt. Obviously listening to Indian music is not high on his priority, unlike for his subordinates.

"Indian music" said the policeman in an apologetic voice to his glowering boss by way of explanation. And then turning to me he said "You go".  

"Did you like it?" I asked him, still eagerly hoping that there will be a round of applause for my performance.  After all, it is not every day that one gets a chance to perform in a public place, and that too to a very appreciative international audience.

Alas, there was no response. Instead as a symbolic gesture, he summoned a porter, gave him 1 Egyptian pound, and asked him to help me pack up the harmonium.

New York in 4 days

For me exploring a city is all about understanding how the local people relate to, and live in, that city. If you have a similar interest, then a surprising lot can be achieved in 4-5 days - provided of course you start the day early and end the day late, and go back to the hotel room only at night merely to sleep.  Essentially what I did in 4 full days (and 5 nights) - and which I would recommend any tourist visiting New York - is the following:

1. took some time off to understand the subway system (the metro) - how it works - how to connect etc.  The New York Metro is a great boon to a tourist - safe and affordable - though it can be confusing at times.
2. walk the streets - especially the streets that I had heard and read much about - 5th Avenue, Broadway, Park Avenue, Madison Avenue
3. Explore Central Park - I went there on 3 days and spent a couple of hours each day exploring different corners of the huge 850 acre Park - both on foot and on a rented bicycle, and ogled at the swank buildings & apartments over-looking Central Park.
4. New York is synonymous with Broadway - so see at least one play/musical on Broadway (I saw "Phantom of the Opera" - one of the longest running plays on Broadway).  Buy tickets on Times Square at a steep discount on the day of the show. 
5. visit the famous districts such as Greenwich village, Meat-Packing district, Washington Square, Sheridan square - all of which have a marvelous atmosphere, and are excellent for walking
6. spend a couple of evenings hopping across various jazz clubs/pubs near Sheridan square - and enjoying the different jazs jamming sessions which go on till late in the night
7. go on a very relaxing cruise to Staten Island using the free Public ferry service from Battery park - and in that process see the Statue of Liberty (from a distance), and the Manhattan skyline
8. explore certain "living" land-marks and do some "serious people watching " at places such as the Grand Central, Penn station & Times Square
9. Visit the 2 museums worth visiting : Museum of Modern Art and American Museum of Natural History  
10. take a walk on the High Line - the resurrected over-head rail line now converted into a mile long green park
11. explore the financial district on foot, and see the venerable buildings that have featured in many a movie about life on Wall Street
12. and - totally optionally - try to visit a night club to understand how the upper crust of New York (with money to burn) spend their evenings.

I also briefly saw (from the outside) - the Rockefeller tower, the Empire State Building, and the site of the WTC where the new "Freedom Towers" is almost ready.  I did not spend much time on these Buildings, and did not spend the small fortune required to enter the viewing galleries on those buildings.

And of course, if, like me, you have never ever experienced snow, then Central Park in New York is the best place to do so.

Alas, I am not much of a foodie - so I did not explore the many cafe's and restaurants that abound all over mid-town New York. For a foodie, New York is paradise - and I suspect I missed out on one of the most crucial aspects about New York because of my limited gastronomical interests.

US Visit

Am currently at Winton, US undergoing a training.  Winton is a small town about 50 miles outside New York. Very peaceful and relaxed town.

Encountered my first snow - or what was left of it the next morning;

And the temperature indicated below in not in Centigrade - but in Fahrenheit.

That is the equivalent of 5 degrees centigrade - and this was in the afternoon.

This is not just my 1st visit to the US - it is also my first exposure to the Nielsen BASES global team.

The interiors were pretty nifty too

 

And I could get a Vegetarian sandwich in the cafeteria downstairs!

The Rub-Off Effect

We go through phases in life when we grapple with what life is all about, and suddenly some incident takes place which throws a new perspective.

On some of my recent travels I was amazed by the sheer number of acts of hospitality, generosity and helpfulness from various people, some of who I did not even know well.... it was all done with little expectation of reciprocation, and totally spontaneously.

To the many whose munificence I enjoyed, and who may be reading this : I know I don't have to specifically name and thank you; in fact for you this might be just a routine daily act - so much so that you may not even realize how deeply you have touched me with your gesture....

I feel pretty humbled after this experience. I don't know why I deserved it. I don't know what qualities in them enable them to practice these noble acts.  And I wondered whether if I was in their shoes I would have been as generous, friendly and altruistic.

When we come across people with qualities we aspire to have some day, just latch on to the relationship, and refuse to let go. Hopefully those qualities will rub off on us.

Coaching vs Teaching : 12 Key Learnings

I just returned from a fantastic "Train the Trainer" program in Dubai, organised by the Nielsen Global Learning team. This was an eye-opener for me as I now realize that I was not following many of the principles of being a good Coach. Here is a bland sum-up of the key learnings - though to really understand this subject one needs to experience the full 1.5 days intensive course:

1. Coaching is all about asking the right questions.  By asking the correct questions, the coach helps the person who is seeking the solution (the Coachee) to discover the solutions by himself.  The Coachee in an office situation could be your subordinate, and in a home situation could be your son seeking a solution to a problem.
2. Coaching is not Teaching.  We are often tempted to jump in and solve problems for others under the guise of teaching. But this perpetuates dependency, and consequently a "just in time, urgent" culture which is not a good environment to practice coaching.
3. "Directing" or "telling" a person what to do is not necessarily bad - it is used in situations where there is no time or the coachee has poor competence.  However, minimise Directing to the extent possible as it is neither good for the manager (Coach) nor for the personal growth of the subordinate (Coachee). 
4. Coaching is all about the Coachee - and not about the coach.  Buy-in of the solution, and its implementation, is better if the solution is self-discovered by the coachee through the coach asking the right questions.
5. A coach figures out the level of competence of the person for that particular task, issue, challenge or question - and asks the suitable coaching questions (open-ended, suggestive, leading or directive) depending on the competence of the coachee for that particular task.
6. To be a good coach does not require one to be skilled at that task - it is all about having the right mind-set.  In fact in many cases, the best coaches are not the experts on the subject matter.
7. Coaching always operates in the environment of Trust.  Lose the trust (example by blaming the coachee for a mistake), and you lose respect and credibility as a coach
8. Coaching does not imply a hands-off, low involvement approach.  Coaching by its very nature implies very high involvement by the coach to help the coachee to self-discover the solution to the problem.
9. For pro-active coaching tying up the feedback to the Motivating Drivers of the coachee is critical - and the coach needs to ensure that he taps into the Coachee's Motivating Drivers (and not his own).  The Motivating Driver could be Achievement, Recognition, Affiliation, Power, or Safety.  Tapping into the right Motivating Driver is crucial for the feedback to be taken in the right spirit, and for the coachee to be motivated to either change his behaviour, or to continue (or even improve) his current excellent behaviour.
10. When starting the process of coaching, spend less time on "Investigative" (understanding the past) - and more time on "Insight" (understanding the future options), and "Empowerment" (arriving at the preferred option with a timeline).  Typically we all make the mistake of spending too much time on the Investigative part.
11. Coaching is a continuous process, and is best pro-actively done. Periodically re-visit the goal of coaching and keep its focus on aspects within one's control ("don't try to solve world hunger"). Coaching should be done not just for areas of improvement, but also in situations where there is a great performance (Typically we only give feedback when something needs to improve). 
12. To be a good coach requires lots of practice as we need to come out of the teaching mind-set. It requires the constant practice of skills such as Active Listening, understanding body language, and para-phrasing. It requires effort to move into unconscious competence where we do this naturally.

Thanks to Nielsen for living up to its reputation of being an Academy Company, and to the trainer Adam Pickford.    What I learnt will need to be practiced not just in office - but in life in general. 

Buddy Boss

"I am the boss in office, but outside office we are the best of buddies" claimed a senior colleague commenting on how he manages relationships with colleagues who he claimed are also his buddies outside office.

And when I say buddies, I mean Buddies - it goes beyond mere friendship.  Being a buddy is different from being a 'friend'.  A boss can be a 'friend' of his subordinate - and can socialize, share personal feelings, and go out camping together.  But this is a friendship that always tacitly respects the official position held by the senior of the two individuals.

So coming back to Buddies - such buddy-ships (for want of a better word) typically get formed when two colleagues are not in a direct reporting relationship. The challenge arises when one of them over-takes the other on the career ladder and ends up as the boss.  Or in the case of a matrix structure, where my buddy ends up in a position where he has a significant role in my assessments/appraisals - or vice versa. Would the original buddy-ship built on absolute equality still survive?

From my observations, very few do.  Despite all the talk about separating out office life from personal life, it is the rare individual who operates in water-tight compartments. The fact is that whether it comes to performance appraisals, assignment of interesting roles/projects, or even simple things like the seating arrangement, friendships do play a huge role in office life, and buddies in reporting relationships do tend to mutually benefit in the office. But inevitably there will come a time when on a certain issue some expectations from either side will not be met - and that will be the beginning of the straining of the buddy-ship.  The strain will first show in office, and willy-nilly soon it will manifest outside the office - and best buddies will turn bitter foes.

If I have a good buddy and recently one of us has started reporting to the other, how do we protect our friendship?

If I am the boss, then the simplest thing I do is to manage my own expectations in terms of how much I think my buddy-subordinate should go beyond his normal role to help me - whether it is in terms of over-over-stretching himself or snitching on his other colleagues.  I would also involve another senior colleague in sensitive - and potentially confrontational - issues such as performance appraisals, determination of increments, bonus etc.  By this process I am sending the message that I want a neutral person involved to prevent any mis-understandings between us - especially when the news being delivered may not be pleasant. Of course my buddy will still think I am deliberately distancing myself - but at least this will ensure that the relationship does not deteriorate sharply. He will still continue to be a friend, if not my buddy.

And if I end up as the subordinate, what then? I can then play a bigger role in ensuring the buddy-ship survives - if I want it to.  From my observations it is all about how much one values the buddy-ship, and therefore how willing one is to walk away from bitter confrontations in office.  To give an example :  I may think I deserve a bigger team to manage the work load, or an x% higher bonus.  If my boss is not a buddy I would probably raise this issue gently with him, and if that does not work - fight it out through escalations.

But if my boss is my buddy, then I need to think very carefully before I escalate : Is the larger team or the x% potential increase (that I MIGHT get after a fight) more important than the buddy-ship I would most probably lose - after all I am dealing with a human being, and not some emotionless organisational position.....

If the x% is really important and I feel I have not been treated fairly, then I will go ahead and fight.  Probably he is not a genuine buddy anyway and he is just exploiting our friendship.......

But in many cases - and after careful thought - I find it better to manage my own expectations.  In which case I choose to walk away from a potentially nasty fight (and a potential x% increase). Walking away could either mean diplomatically and gradually maneuvering myself into a different role (and a different boss), or staying back and accepting and trusting my buddy-boss' decision without showing dissent.

Walking away may sound wimpish.......

But after all, I don't know : maybe he has already tried his best to fight my case internally, and is too embarrassed to tell me he lost the fight.

Or maybe my expectations from my buddy-boss are not fair.

Or maybe it has dawned on me that we are blessed with so few buddies in our life-time......