The TAM-BRAHM wedding

Selected as BlogAdda's Tangy Tuesday pick, August 2nd 2011(click here to know more)

I hate attending marriages. I find them the most painfully boring way to spend your time and the only reason, I assume, for most people to grace these “occasions” is because they were coerced (or threatened). My parents have given up asking me to attend marriage functions and somewhere, I believe, they feel my pain.

So when Dharani, my friend from UK, informed that she would be coming down to Chennai to attend the marriage of her cousin, I could sense danger. My mind is designed to be on the auto pilot mode at such times and involuntarily it started digging into its gargantuan repository of excuses. However, it turned out that Mayank, another friend from school, whom I haven’t met for ages was coming along too and so, for the sake of friendship, I had to do the inevitable. Drama!

In Tamil Nadu, like in most of India, caste plays a major role in society. At the top of the hierarchy is the Tamil Brahman/Brahmin and they are the most revered of the lot. They are thought to be conservative, educated, good looking, egoistic and serve the best “pure” vegetarian food at their weddings. The conservative = boring equation was the major deterrent but it was defeated by the “best food” (so what it was vegetarian) and the friends factor.

So when I was invited to the “Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal” (the venue), I gulped and hoped that food was served early.

The caricature at the wedding

I was met with a pleasant surprise at the entrance, where I saw a caricature(see pic) of the married couple in their traditional attire zooming away on a bike which I thought was “Oh so cool”. I later found out that it was made by the bride.

I met my friends and almost immediately we were engrossed deep in conversation. I totally forgot about the marriage I was dreading. On the occasional glance towards the stage, I saw a  familiar sight, one which I have witnessed through the ages. A heavily “decorated” bride stood beside the “suited up” groom (so what if it’s a Chennai summer), starving and sweating it out, forcing a constant smile while a spotlight enough to light up a basketball court was aimed directly at their face. Like this was not enough, the entire ordeal was recorded by still and motion cameras in an almost sadistic manner.    

This agony would continue till the hundreds (and in some cases thousands) of guests slowly walk up the stage, wish them well, give the gift (which they probably received at some other function), adjust the Saree a thousand times before finally clicking a picture and heading off the stage.

Our constant jabbering was interrupted by a sudden murmur in the hall. Was dinner served? No. It turned out that the “torture session” had ended and the groom had the microphone in his hand. This usually never happens because, unlike shown in the movies, the Indian groom is almost as shy as the bride, if not more. The groom got a guitar and started singing for the audience. It was followed up by a well rehearsed and choreographed dance performed by the cousins of the couple to popular foot tapping Hindi and Tamil Numbers and ended with a romantic duet by the couple themselves to the song, “pehla nasha”, which got the audience clapping and hooting; with a few jaws dropping too.

Wait a second? Wasn’t this supposed to be the most conservative of conservative marriages, almost like the apogee of conservativeness? Whatever happened to the whole “couples should not meet before the marriage or the heavens will fall” ritual? Here, they were actually performing an Indianised, Bollywood version of a fairly romantic ball dance which I’m quite sure they didn’t rehearse over Skype. After the initial shock, I was beginning to enjoy myself and this was nothing like I expected. I turned to my friends and told them, “Guys! This is actually fun”. That’s when I got to know that a lot of "traditional" marriages these days were getting innovative and enjoyable (how long was I in hibernation?).

After the dose of entertainment, it was time for what I was looking forward to the most – the food. This was as traditional as it could get: long rows of tables with chairs only on one side, set in such a way so as to discourage any social interaction and in turn ensuring one gives their entire undivided attention to the considerable number of delicacies strewn on a coconut leaf being served by men, each of whom is referred to by the name of the item they are serving. 

Standard conversation at the scene (translated):

Man serving Sambar asking the man serving rice: "Dai, whare is Rasam Da?"

Rice man replying: "He was with Vadai sometime back. Ask payasam. Maybe he would know".

At the end of it, you don’t even get time to sit and relish your meal as there would already be someone pulling your chair from behind, giving you a not so subtle hint that you need to get your ass off the chair ASAP.

With the traditional tambrahm elaisaapadu (Banana leaf food)

 Satisfied and full, we went back to the main hall for our next shock. We were informed that there was a DJ waiting and that the floor at “Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal” would soon be open for a dance party. DJs at Punjabi weddings are almost a norm but at a Tamil Brahmin wedding was unthinkable. There just seemed to be no end to the surprises. The super traditional marriage hall whose walls were scattered with pictures of Gods, Goddesses and Gurus at every conceivable free space was going to turn into a nightclub?

Initially, the DJ got a lukewarm response with only a few deciding to take to the floor, mostly the cousins of the couple who performed initially. Honestly, it wasn't a real surprise as the audience didn't really comprise of people you associate with dancing and DJs, perhaps a Carnatic music concert. Boy, was I wrong. Things started changing in a matter of a few tracks as the DJ switched from “Jumma chumma de de” to “Bachna ae haseeno”. Dharani decided to leave us and join the rest at the dance floor while Mayank and I just stood shocked.

A bit of cajoling and pursuing did the trick and soon the dance floor was brimming with people of all age groups. All hell broke loose when the Sheilas started getting jawaan and the Munnis badnaam. Yes, all this and more at the Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal. It soon went international when Akon’s hit number, Sexy bitch’s cleaner version, sexy chic (thankfully, otherwise it would have been too much too take) started playing and it went on and on as my friend and I gaped and gawked like fools. Never in my life before have I seen so many jasmine embellished heads dancing to David Guetta and the likes.

As the DJ announced the last song, the crowd booed and pleaded for an encore like at any popular nightclub. Young, old, conservative – doesn’t matter; the universal fact is that everybody enjoys having a good time. I’m not sure if this particular TAM BRAHM marriage reflects a trend but I had a ball of a time. Right from the caricature at the beginning to the DJ at the end, my expectations couldn’t have been more off the mark. This is one of the very few marriages, I don’t repent attending.

MY FORAY INTO THE CORPORATE WORLD – THE TRAINING

Before I start rambling, I have specific messages for my readers. Identify which category you come under and read the appropriate message. I know you are anyway going to peek into all of them so I’m not even going to try and ask you not to.

Regular Readers

The regular readers: Hopefully, a few of you have missed me and I apologize for the inactivity on my blog for almost a month. The corporate world is trying to screw me over but trust me, I’m fighting back.

The not so regular readers but who still like my blog: I’m sure you wouldn’t have even noticed the lack of activity on the blog but I’m back, alive and kicking.

Indifferent Readers

The indifferent lot:  You really think I have a message for you?

The ones who were glad I was gone: Too bad. Party is over fellas.

Now that we are done with the pleasantries, let’s get down to the real business.

The excitement of being in my first job disappeared faster than I change the channel playing ridiculous saas-bahu drama. The training period, as we discovered, was not very different from college, except for a few added advantages, which were neutralized by some new disadvantages. Here are a few of them:

Advantages:

1)    Paid to study. Really helps in motivation.

2)    Totally air-conditioned environment. Conducive to sleeping and passing time faster.

3)     Most time devoted to hands on experience; hence we didn’t have to endure too many boring lectures.

Disadvantages:

1)    CANNOT BUNK! This disadvantage can brush aside the entire advantages single handed.

2)     Need to dress up formally with a tie, 4 days a week. Might not sound like a big deal but it is pretty painful if you are not used to it.

The new boys at work

Since training was quite like college, with most of us actually from the same college, the atmosphere wasn't new or alien. We made the training centre our own. The administration ignored our boisterous and crass behaviour initially, attributing it to excitement of being in a new environment. They were under the impression that things would get back to normal in the course of time. They couldn't have been more wrong – we were just getting started.

The administrators were up for a shocker and I can’t blame them for it. The training centre is usually filled with nervous and scared looking grads, so much so, that trainers have to go out of their way to make these poor fellows feel comfortable.  However, our batch had a stark difference. We were a vociferous and riotous bunch, who were here to have fun while making that little money. A kind they weren’t used to.

The first month went like a breeze- we did our thing, the administrators and HRs did theirs, there was complete harmony in the disharmony. Life couldn't have been better. But what's life without a twist.

Things were beginning to change. There was an unusual silence that day in the office, the kind before a storm. For a second I thought I had come to work on a holiday. However, I soon realised that things were not all okay here. There was a shift in the mood. 

Those few nervous moments

I soon came to know that somebody had complained. It was college all over again – administration on our back, threats, rumours and total drama followed. The training had taken a whole new direction. People walking in groups were stopped and questioned, an idle terminal would require an explanation and that a high profile enquiry would be conducted to find the culprit who spat paan in the dustbin; events that were highly unexpected.

A couple of weeks to go, the exit tests would decide our fate, nobody wanted to mess around. There was an eerie silence in the air; supervisors would take rounds 7-8 times a day; juniors were asked to stay away from our batch or meet our fate.

We spent our last few days amidst threats and warnings, gave our tests and kept our fingers crossed. The “extension list” was quite an anticlimax. Most of the trainees had cleared the tests and would soon be mapped to various projects. Hurray! Not really. We were just waiting to be put on the bench and enjoy a few days of paid vacation.

Right through the training period, we were told, “The training is the honeymoon period, enjoy all you want, this would all change once you get into a project”.

Now that apparent "honeymoon period" is over, let’s see if this marriage is going to be a "lived happily ever after" or end in a divorce. Only time will tell.

Author's note: The other posts in the "My foray into the corporate world" series are

My foray into the corporate world – Prologue

My foray into the corporate world – post prologue

My foray into the corporate world – THE FIRST DAY

ENDHIRAN (THE ROBOT)-THE MADNESS UNLEASHED

....Continued from Endhiran (Robot)- The build up

Chennai wouldn’t sleep tonight.

But I did.

As I lay peacefully in my bed having some weird dreams, the true hard core Rajni fans were up and getting ready to go for a movie. The fanatics were up all night bursting crackers, singing, dancing and raising a toast to their God in their usual style, in a plastic tumbler with cheap rum and a banana to go with it. The wait for the movie and the alacrity that comes with it is more fun than the movie itself.

The celebration went on till 4 am - the time for the first show.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t go to such a theatre to witness these scenes but from what I hear, the atmosphere inside is like that of a cricket stadium rather than a movie hall. You wouldn’t get to hear a thing but the entertainment provided otherwise is totally worth it.

The Rajni craze- A garland of sweet lime

I reach office at 2 PM and meet guys who have already seen the movie twice. Half of Chennai had apparently not come to work today. I just couldn’t contain my excitement. It was Friday and I still had 2 days to go for my movie. I decided not to work and celebrate Rajnikanth.

I had the audacity to tell my HR head that I wasn’t going to work that day because I was excited about Endhiran. Instead of being reproached, he asked me, “You got tickets?” Proudly, I respond, “Yeah, Sunday” to which my HR head says, “That’s so sad! I got tickets for tonight”. The conversation went on for 10 more minutes, much to the shock of my colleagues and trainer.

You see the magic? Thinking about it now, I don’t even know where I got that kind of courage from.

Through the day, I kept hearing stories of hardcore fans and their antics, each more crazy than the previous.

I was getting restless and I am getting restless now so I’m skipping my painful wait and coming straight to THE SUNDAY, my turn to watch Endhiran.

Sunday morning...

The Chennai shared auto

FINALLY the day was here! Excitement was at its prime. M and I got ready and left well before time. Or so we thought. Just as we started, we encountered our first speed breaker - Chennai traffic decided to play party pooper. To make matters worse, we were aboard a shared taxi (the first mode of public transport that came our way), those weird looking vehicles that gives every indication of being a cross between an auto and a mini bus but moves at the speed of a bullock cart. We wouldn’t make it on time. Nothing was going right and it wasn’t a good feeling. All the anticipation, excitement, hype, extra money spent and finally ending up late for the movie seemed just wrong.  

The most exciting part of a Rajni movie is the start, right from the censor board certificate followed by the animated entry of the letters to form the word S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R and finally the super dramatic entry of Rajnikanth himself amidst cheers, screams and flying lungis. I really wanted to witness this.

If we continued by the shared auto, reaching the theatre on time was next to impossible, so we got off half way through and decided to hire our very own, personal auto (which is quite a luxury in Chennai).

I ask him, “Anna. Satyam?” (That’s all that is needed to get the message across). The driver gives a nod. “Evalo?” (How much?). He starts with Rs 220 and finally agrees for Rs 40 and we are off (those of you who find this weird, this is how autos in Chennai function. Meters are for aesthetics).

We were still well behind schedule, hope was fast running out and right then M uttered the magic words, “Anna. Sheegram go (Fast go). Movie. Endhiran. Rajnikanth”. I swear to God, everything went into slow motion for the next 20 seconds. Slowly, frame by frame, the auto driver turned to look at us, didn’t say a word and smiled. The smile said it all. In slow motion he turned back to drive, locked the fingers of his hand and made that crackling sound (even that in slow motion), kut kut kut one by one, and that’s when we snap out of the slow motion and also, everything else changed.

Like a man possessed, he revved his engine and drove at a speed that would qualify the auto to race at a formula 3 event. Probably the auto was a Rajni fan too. No obstacle was too big and no turn was too sharp for the driver since he was in charge of the holy duty of making sure we made it in time for the movie of his God. However, we still needed a miracle if we had to reach on time. I did something really strange (I shit you not and I swear this is not made up). I held my hands together (in the Namaste position) and prayed out loud to Rajni (half as a joke and half out of pure desperation). Taking cue, M did the same.

Three minutes left for the movie to start and we were almost there. My other friends were already in the theatre waiting for us. We could actually make it on time. Was this going to be a miracle? One minute to go and I was actually wondering if the driver in his excitement wouldn’t take the money and say that it was just a part of his duty. We reached with 30 seconds to go and driver seemed to lose all the brotherhood and asked for his money. What was I thinking? Anyway, we paid up and rushed towards the theatre hoping that we don’t miss much.

Inside, I see my other friends walking casually towards me. Have they gone crazy? Don’t they want to witness the spectacle at the start? Exasperated, I ask D, “Dude! Why the hell are you out? Hasn’t the movie started already? D starts smiling and realization dawns as I ask, “What time does the movie really start?” and a smiling D responds, “10 more minutes’ macha. I knew you would be late”.

I was annoyed and relieved; and at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder about the prayers we offered in the auto. I didn’t have much time to think about that as we walked towards the screen. We had made it. In a few minutes I was going to experience a movie experience like no other.

No, I wouldn’t describe what went on inside since a Rajnikanth movie on the weekend of its release should definitely be on your “things I need to do before I die” list. It's like a holy pilgrimage that each of you must be a part of at least once in your life time. And for your sake, I hope Rajnikanth makes another movie. If not, my condolences.

If Christopher Nolan could do it in Inception, so can I. So swear all you want, I know the feeling. I did the same after inception. 

Adios 

ENDHIRAN (ROBOT) - The build up

Rajnikanth's giant cut out at Sky Walk Mall, Chennai

It is impossible for one to reside in Chennai and not get carried away with the Rajnikanth mania. People, in Tamil Nadu and around, wait with alacrity for a Rajni movie to arrive because each movie brings with it a carnival-like atmosphere and electrifies a rather dull city (I’m sorry, but it’s true).

A Rajni movie is not like any regular movie. It’s an event, like the Olympics, and the entire state of Tamil Nadu starts preparing for it months before its release. That’s why I compared it to the Olympics and not the Commonwealth Games. The momentum builds with every passing day and is soon reflected in local newspapers, radio channels and conversation. However, it’s the numerous banners by fan clubs on every street that tell you something big is on its way. Most of these banners are freakishly similar and have a large picture of Rajni in the centre, accompanied by the president and vice-president of the fan club on either side, looking petrified just to be on the same banner as the great man.

The excitement in the air was palpable. It wasn’t long before I got caught up in the hype.  I wanted to be a part of the festivities. I was suddenly a fan of Rajnikanth. I had seen just one movie of his before – Shivaji, and I thought it was one of the most ridiculous movies ever. Then what was happening to me? I had no control of my mind and body. I was suddenly supporting the man in all discussions. I took offence to Rajni jokes. I started hanging out with my Tamil brothers and discussing about the thailavar and his greatness. This was Rajni mania taking over.

Two weeks to go, articles and news snippets on Enthiran (Robot) and Rajnikanth were a part of every national news network. Local TV channels went berserk. Air time was dominated by Rajnikanth. Other producers refused to release their movies. The big day was fast approaching and I wanted to be a part of it.

Like all movies, there was a trailer release around the corner but that shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Wrong. Lesson number one; nothing is normal or “small” when it comes to Rajnikanth. People, in thousands, flocked the theatres to watch the trailer and the theatre owners, definitely smarter and more experienced than me, expecting this had tickets made just for the trailer at insanely high rates for the lunatics to catch a 5 minute glimpse of their hero. Buying a ticket to watch a trailer! Which other actor can demand that? The moolah was already flowing but this was a pocket change compared to the events expected to follow.

My friend D, a man of many contacts, managed to get us tickets, for three times the price of a normal movie ticket, scheduled for the weekend of the movie’s release. A pretty good deal compared to ones shelling out 20-30 times of what they usually would. The ticket became my prized possession. I went about parading my ticket, much to the exasperation of the local boys, who couldn’t get them for the weekend of the movie’s release and would have to watch it on a weekday, which according to local tradition, is a sin. Plus me being a Non-Tamil added fuel to the raging fire.

One day to go. The rich and poor, conservative and liberal, drunk and sober, sane and insane, all join hands, forget their differences and celebrate life and celebrate Rajni, their God. Only one man can create such magic. I won’t digress into Rajnikanth the individual, since that deserves nothing short of a book, or books perhaps. Firecrackers and poojas are on at full swing and people can’t wait for THE DAY to arrive. Theatres have shows scheduled from 4am onwards and that each of these shows was sold out came as no surprise. Everybody wanted to be the first to see the man in action.

People were willing to spend any kind of money to go that extra mile to prove their loyalty. Tickets were being bought at exorbitant rates, some even willing to spend 50-60 times the price of an original ticket. The money caught my attention. All the, “I love Rajnikanth” suddenly disappeared and the opportunist in me woke up. A 1000% return on investment was guaranteed and was tempting as hell.

But I didn’t do it because D had to go through a lot to get the tickets and I didn’t want the effort to go down the drain. Plus he threatened to break my head if I did, so that was another factor.  In addition to the tickets, even the milk used in the pooja was being sold at Rs 500/- per glass and people were lined up buy that. INSANE! This was the sign; Rajni mania had hit the city, and boy did it hit hard. People lost all sense of rationality and pure emotions took over. Just a few hours to go.

Chennai wouldn’t sleep tonight.

Author’s note:

To do justice to this post and to the aura of Rajnikanth, I am splitting this post into 2 parts. The release and my movie experience are worthy of a separate post.


Click here to read the next part...

My friends. My life. My phone. My universe

Universe, the smart and some of the dreamy ones say, is the ultimate superset. Everything else is within it. What a ludicrous idea. I don’t care what’s beyond the clear blue skies, how many more planets or stars are out there, if there is somebody else like me in one of those planets, sitting there, sipping something similar to a coffee and writing a blog. Well thinking about it, I would be concerned if the blog is for the TATA DOCOMO One Touch Net Phone’s “Share Life” contest on Indiblogger, because that would mean me having more competition and lesser chances to grab that tempting prize money.

Sorry for the digression. The reason why I called it a “ludicrous” idea is because my universe is my life, with me being the core and my friends, family and the others being an intrinsic part of it. I believe (I’m not making this up for the contest), that a life not shared is a life not lived. You could be the most reticent of people but you would still want to share the happenings in your life, good or bad, with somebody, could be an imaginary friend, some stranger across the globe or even a diary. The point I’m trying to make is that, it’s a natural tendency for all and not a random idiosyncrasy.

The concept of “sharing life” wasn’t born with the advent of technology either. It’s been around forever. Some of the oldest sites of archaeological importance have painting or carvings that depict stories of day to day life. Why else would we make the lives of pigeons and eagles a living hell for so long by pestering them to deliver messages.

Luckily for us (and for the birds) things have changed and are consistently changing for the better. Family and friends to me, like for many others, is the most important asset in my life. Unfortunately, as time progresses, we move in different directions, distance increases and it’s so much more difficult to laugh, cry, fight and share so many other emotions. Step by step, man tried to bridge this distance (women, it’s figuratively speaking, so no offence). Telegraph, telephone, snail mail, cell phones, internet, email, social networking, etc are all attempts at this very cause.

Now we had the modes but too many of them and each of them required a separate medium and equipment. To overcome this paradox, a saviour was born - The Smart Phone. Life hasn’t been the same ever since.

Inflation and recession at the same time was God’s idea of a practical joke (it didn’t go down too well though). However, in the clouds of darkness there was a ray of hope. “Sharing life” was getting cheaper. Call and messaging rates were at an all time low, new services were being added and distance wasn’t a factor anymore.

The void in my life was being filled, my friends and family were a few button clicks away, the world wasn’t that big anymore and a sense of completeness, which I was craving for so long, encompassed me. However, it doesn’t just end there. The features and services are getting better by the day. With messengers like Yahoo available on your phone along with an array of other cool features, life can only get better.

With messaging costing peanuts and call rates lower than ever, I am constantly in touch with my loved ones and am in the know of what is happening in their lives. I visit a really cool place and I want my friends to know about it, all I have to do is take a picture on my phone and send it as an email. Or I could just put it on a social networking site and everybody could know about. I could be out all by myself but I know that I’m carrying my universe with me at all times.

I no longer miss my friends and family in spite of being away from them. It’s not that I love them any lesser but I have the means to make their presence felt at all times. Today, my smart phone is not just another member in my universe, it is the glue which holds my universe together. 

This post is written as a part of the TATA DOCOMO One Touch Net Phone’s “Share Life” contest on Indiblogger. If you liked the article, I’d appreciate it if you vote for me by clicking the “promote this post” button on Indiblogger and it might take me one step closer to the booty. I might just share it with you ;)

Cheers!

THE INDIAN ENGLISH

My knowledge, limited as it is, is aware of two widely spoken forms of English, the American version and the British version. Any reference to the Indian English till date, has been to ridicule the way Indians speak. This is my attempt at changing it.

English is a language I have always been comfortable with and the credit for this goes to my parents, who tried hard to make me at least half as proficient as them. A lot of my childhood friends are from different parts of the country, so we mainly conversed in English and that was another reason for me to presuppose my expertise in the language.

Oral communication (OC) is a vital part of training for any organization which deals with clients from all over the world. You can understand its importance in the Indian IT industry, which has a 99% client base abroad.

Confident strides, filled with conceit, take me to the room where my OC sessions take place, with a belief that these sessions are for the “lesser mortals”.

The first few classes went like a breeze and then along came phonetics. This is when my pride was murdered. My heavily accented trainer asked us to pronounce the first, relatively easy word, “hello”. The responses poured in, “Hell-o”, “Hellooo”, “Heyy loo”, “hi”, “what’s up”, “Namaste”.

My bewildered trainer goes, “Neo neo neo”! Neo? Under the heavy accent the NO turned into a NEO. In that American accent she further adds, “We follow the British English. It’s ‘hu-llo’. Say it with me“. British English in an American accent? Anyway, I got the first one right but I knew that this wasn’t going to be our regular OC class.

Word after word the situation kept changing. Initially, I just stuck to what I knew. After a point I was made to realize, that all of what I knew was wrong. Since tactic 1 wasn’t working out too well, I decided to twist and turn every word asked and add a bit of an accent of my own to please the trainer. Now, not only was I saying the words wrong, I was also making a fool of myself.

Russel Peters, the comedian of Indian origin from Canada, was sceptical before his visit to India as a lot of his jokes were on the Indian accent and he wasn’t quite sure how the Indian audience would react to them. But to his surprise, the Indians laughed harder than anybody else to these very jokes. He said, “It’s not because Indians have a great sense of humour but because they believe that they don’t have an accent”. Eventually, I realized how true this was.

Coming back to our session, after the torrid start, things started getting a lot comfortable here. After the entire ego bashing session, there weren’t any “lesser mortals”, we were all equal. Come on, we couldn’t all be wrong. The only person, who wasn’t in the same boat as us, was the trainer. As expected, our trainer was soon the target of the jokes. “She talks funny man. I doubt if it’s even right”. Every time she would pick a new word, we would laugh and turn to a friend and say, “Did you just hear that? Imagine us talking like that. People would think we are crazy”. So the session ended with us ridiculing all that we were taught and laughing at the “strange” pronunciations of the otherwise common words.

Studies point out that India is going to be the largest English speaking nation by 2025, so I feel we must be given some credit. Instead of trying to change the way a billion plus people speak, welcome a new standard of English, The Indian English. It could just be the the standard for the future. I can visualize the future president of America in a pensive mood, about to address the nation. He says, "The problem is coming fastly. We musht do something something to make it okay soonly. Okay? Ta ta bye bye". Don't give me that look. It might just happen.

My foray into the corporate world – THE FIRST DAY

After documentation and accommodation, it finally comes down to the day we were all waiting for – The First Day at Work. The beauty of starting off in a new organization is that you are like a blank sheet of paper. You can get rid of the tags and stereotypes associated with you in the past. In order to exploit this, we decided that we should reach our centre well within the stipulated time. To make this possible, we decided to sleep early. The plan sounded foolproof except that it was 1:45 am already. To ensure that we woke up on time, all electronic items with an alarm function, big and small, were collected, set and put into action. As I lay down, I had a smile on my face. In a few hours, a new life would begin and with that thought I drifted away.

I woke up with a start. The lights were on and I could sense activity. Was I late? Didn’t the alarms go off or did I just not hear it? But there were about a hundred alarms set. I panicked and scrambled around to find my phone. It read 4:45 am. I was up before time. Phew! But what were the guys doing up so early? Realization dawned upon me.

We are 5 guys and 1 bathroom (we are at a friend’s place temporarily). The first person gets the bathroom fresh, dry and most importantly, smelling good. So a lot depends on your position in the queue and what the previous occupants had for dinner. This being an “auspicious” occasion, it was important that you be in the top half of the list. I was surprised I hadn’t considered this while setting my alarm. However, as luck would have it, the water supply went off right when occupant number 1 was in a rather “strategic” position and he was stuck inside for an hour. Looks like I had the last laugh. The poor guy was the butt of all jokes (quite literally) that morning.Anyway, in spite of the initial hiccup, we managed to get ready before time.

With ties around our neck and pride in our heart, we set off for our induction (or inception as MS kept calling it) and reached half an hour before time. A good start.

All set to leave for work. From L - R: K, MS, me, M

During any transition phase, be it from school to college, college to work or from one company to another, one of the things we look forward to (or dread, depends on what kind of a person you are) is meeting new people and experiencing a new atmosphere. That probably adds to the excitement. I reach the place to find the exact opposite. All familiar faces, the usual banter and it felt like being back in college. With a majority of the trainees in my batch from my college, I felt at home.

After a rather arduous task of getting our offer and joining letters checked, a temporary ID was issued and we finally entered the building. At the security check we were informed that we weren’t allowed to take any electronic gadget inside except our cell phones. I realized that I was carrying my ipod along so I went to deposit it. After that, I put my bag through the scanner and as luck would have it, I was stopped. I was told that I was carrying a hard disk and a pen drive. Finding the hard disk wasn’t a problem but I thought I had left my pen drive at home. What was it doing in my bag? To make it more interesting, my bag had a hundred different sections. Do you realize how much more difficult it gets to find something when you have 5-6 angry, irritated pairs of eyes looking at you?  “Are you carrying an entire computer store with you?” my friends ask sarcastically. After a rather frantic search I find the drive and we rush to our room.

I have missed out one tiny detail. I actually came over to my friend’s place so we could go to work together for the first few days. I came carrying just one bag with all the stuff I needed for a couple of days and this is the same bag I was carrying today. I had emptied it and just took the files I needed. Or so I thought.

We sat through the first talk with rapt attention. By the time the second started, we were back to college mode.

After a while, we were free as we had to submit our documents. In the meanwhile, I opened my bag to put my pen in it and something caught my attention. I removed it and it turned out to be a tube of toothpaste. My friend next to me burst out laughing and soon everybody joined in. Next came out a tongue cleaner. Following that was a bottle of deodorant, my Burberry perfume, a cell phone charger, a rechargeable battery charger, rechargeable batteries, a 1 foot long comb, a trimmer and the list went on. Every time a new article came out, the laughter got louder and after a point we were all wiping the tears off our face.

I must admit that throughout the process of extracting objects from my “magic” bag, I was worried about something. A certain object. I kept praying that “it” wasn’t in my bag. But my friends were having a gala time and they wouldn’t let me stop. After a while, It seemed like I had extracted all the items and I was safe. That is when I felt it. My worst fear had come true.

I reluctantly took it out. In my hand was my underwear. Next second, all I could see around me, were people guffawing and we laughed till our stomach hurt. What a first day we were having.

Soon after, we got busy with the various formalities which seemed to go on forever. The cold I had wasn’t helping either and patience was beginning to take its toll. The day ended by 7:30 pm and we walked out satisfied and tired. We went out for dinner together and there was something unusual in our behaviour that caught my eye. In college, the minute we were out, we would remove our ID cards and shove them into our bags or pockets. But here we were, with loosened ties and ID cards around our necks, enjoying the occasional glance of the onlookers. It didn’t matter that the ID card was temporary and it was only our first day.

We just had a day that we would talk about for years to come.

My foray into the corporate world – post prologue

I promised I would be back after the search for accommodation and I have kept my promise. If you don’t know what I am talking about, click here : My foray into the corporate world - Prologue.

As expected, it wasn't easy. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the worst either. Thanks to my friend’s friend and another friend’s dad’s friend’s friend, life became a lot simpler (however complicated it might sound).

On day one, we had a car at our disposal and a “localite” friend to help us out with the language and location. 

I discovered two really interesting things

1)      The prices of real estate in the areas around the training centre, varies with the training period at TCS, Chennai.

2)      There is no such word as “localite” in the English language. I can see a lot of Indian eyebrows going up and saying “NO! That is not true. What is this useless fellow telling?” But it’s true. I didn’t know it either till I saw this little red line appear below my text. I checked up Oxford and Cambridge dictionaries to confirm*. How often do we use this word? Wow! And they say Indians cannot innovate. YES WE CAN (Obama style).

I apologize for the digression. We repeatedly hear that we are in the Information Age today and I got a taste of how true it is. I met a broker whose first question to me was, “TCS aah”. Oh by the way, “Aah” is the Indian phonetic version for the symbol “?”. So I said, “Yeah. How do you know?” To which he responds, “Full area only TCS. SRM aah” Well, I am from SRM University and I was getting a bit suspicious, so I slowly respond, giving him my special suspicious expression(see picture) and saying, “Yeah!?” He smiles knowledgeably and answers, “500 students SRM coming. After 2 weeks, new batch coming. TCS calling training prices going full high”. I was surprised at how well informed he was (though the figures weren't right) and looking at the Pulsar he was riding, I knew he was doing well.

Apparently, the prices shoot up to almost double when a new batch comes in for training. Initially, I was pretty happy that we were being given an HRA (house rent allowance) during the training period and optimistically thought that I could probably save a little from that for my pocket. How naive of me. Let me just put it this way: if my HRA and basic pay columns were to switch; only then could I afford a decent place to stay.

Luckily for me, I had a place booked through a friend, who was called for training a little earlier. It sounded like a fancy place. Television, AC (that too split, which is a pretty big thing here), lockers and attached bath for a price which would tempt anybody. I went to check out the place. It looked like any other PG/hostel to me, which I am okay with because it’s only for a period of 3 months. Anyway, my friend opens the door and I take a step in. That is where the room ended (and the place is called a “Mansion”). In the most brilliant and ingenious display of area management, they could fit in all that was promised and in a way that, you could reach any corner of the room by just taking a step in that particular direction. To its credit, it was a pretty clean and well maintained place and with its price tag looming over our head, it was too tempting to let go. So we decided to pay the meagre advance and book the place.

However, we decided to call this place “Plan B” and look on further with the hope of finding something better. Not today though. It was time for a nice dinner and end with that.

Day 2 started with the same enthusiasm but with a new entourage. To give us company we had a chauffeur driven car and another “localite” to help us out, thanks to my friend’s father’s friend’s friend. This time, we decided to make use of the ads on the local paper instead of a broker. We saw some really beautiful and some uninhabitable places but nothing seemed to work out. After an onerous task of house hunting (we saw 2 houses, 1 good and 1 bad), we decided to end the day at that. So we went for lunch, saw a movie, dinner and wrapped it up with another movie.

Day 3 began for M at 6:30 am and for me at 10 am. M had some other things to attend to and wanted to check out a few houses after that. I reluctantly offered to help him, which he refused since he had other company. Disappointed as I was, I lay in bed in an air conditioned room watching a movie on the LCD screen all day, while the others were busy house hunting. I get a call from these poor friends of mine in the evening to let me know that nothing has worked out. With that ends operation accommodation.

So looks like I will be moving into plan B for the next three months. That is not something I am looking forward to but I am pretty excited about something else, My First Day at Work and as you have guessed it already, there will be a blog post on how that went for sure.

Cheers!

* There are a few online dictionaries which say it is a legal word. But since the reputed dictionaries and Ms Word doesn't list it as a legal word, I am going with them. 

Disclaimer: This is strictly based on my experience and I am in no way complaining about the facilities or remuneration being provided to me by my employer. As I said before, I still LOVE you. Muah! 

My foray into the corporate world – Prologue

As we grow older, the frequency of “firsts” comes down drastically. This causes us to really look forward to newer things and experiences. I am on the verge of yet another crucial juncture in my life – My First Job. With THE day coming closer, I’m finding it difficult to contain my nervous excitement. How often have you heard people around you telling, “The experience you get at work is invaluable”? I think I am feeling it already.

For starters, I have come to realize that getting a job isn’t the tough part. It’s actually a piece of cake compared to the formalities you have to go through before joining the job. This in turn made me realize that I shouldn't trust the movies. In a movie, what we get to see in an interview scene is that, indubitably the protagonist gets the job and the interviewer adds, “Congratulations! You got the job. Join us from tomorrow”. Wait! Doesn't he have to go through all the formalities which would take him a thousand days? This simplistic approach of such filmmakers didn’t help my cause. You bloody incompetent movie men!

See, I am getting wiser already.

In the last one month, I have been preparing my set of documents as listed in the 6 ft long check list.

My document set includes:

a)      “Did you pass your grade 10^th and 12^th exam?” certificates. Dude! How would I go to college otherwise?

b)      “So you went to college, eh?” certificate.

c)       “I don’t believe you got through all your semester exams. Give proof” certificates.

d)      “Can you read a foreign language and still find the place you need to sign” document. This is the service agreement which went on for 5-6 pages, in the legalese created by lawyers to impose upon the world their importance.

e)      “You got to pay up if your son messes with us” document. Yeah, this was for my dad. What follows this is a series of documents that proves that my dad is “really” my dad. Oh and also if he has the money to pay up.

f)        “I think you’re a crook, scoundrel and a thief if you won’t sign this” document to prove that I have no criminal cases pending against me.

g)      “Swear that you didn’t cheat on me” document to let em know that I didn't take up a job in the months of uncertainty they left me post graduation. How insecure are you?

h)      “We have our eyes on you” document. The background check which states that they would stalk the hell out of me and dig out my past if need be and a countless more documents, that I just can’t remember at this point. 

In addition to this, I gave the biometric impression of my fingers at a security agency, needed  photocopies of all these documents attested by a gazetted officer, a few notarized and finally, signatures of a couple of witnesses, a doctor, few by dad and a thousand million by me. Phew!

However, for my support, I always had something which got me working on these documents with a smile. Every time I found I had something else work related to do, I would coax myself by saying, “Dude, you are going to be paid for this shit eventually”, and suddenly the work would seem a lot simpler. If there are any parents reading this, remuneration can be a great motivator. 

After all this, I am ready and in the city where I have my first REAL job. The next challenge in line is finding a place to stay. I’ll keep you updated on how that went.

Disclaimer: Especially if you are my boss at TCS. I love you and TCS and I am just about willing to do anything to satisfy you guys. I think you are just AWESOME and I am ready to go through a million more documents if it makes you happy.

Click here to go the next part: My foray into the corporate world - Post Prologue

Decliché–ing the cliché

Wiki definition of a cliché: A cliché or cliche (pronounced klee-shay) is an expression, idea, or element of an artistic work which has been overused to the point of losing its original meaning or effect.

Which quotes or proverbs are the most used? The good ones, right. So in that regard, almost every good quote comes with a shelf life and is eventually frowned upon when it reaches its expiry date. Now, that doesn’t sound one bit fair to me. Why plays by Shakespeare, which have been adapted by theatre and films over the years, are still so popular and treated with such reverence? Looks like a case of double standards.

However, I do concede that listening to the same quotes over and over, in different circumstances, by different people can be bit of a pain. But if we need to replace these cliché’s, we must ensure that the new stock is as good or even better. They should express the same meaning with as much beauty as the so called “cliché’s”.

I was once told, “Never point out a problem, unless you have the solution to it”.

One common feature about a lot of these out-dated quotes is the simplicity of the words, but the meaning they convey is enormous. It is undoubtedly difficult to match up to those standards. So instead of coming up with new quotes all together, I decided to tweak the existing ones. By this, they no longer fit into the “definition” of a cliché and yet convey the same message. Since a lot of them were written a long time back, you might even be able to relate to them a tad better post modification.

These are a few I have come up with. You would notice a strong influence of technology in these “tweaked-up” quotes, since these are things I relate to best.

Honesty is the best policy, except on Facebook.

You can take the horse to the bar, but can’t get it wasted.

Don’t judge a person by their profile picture.

A well kept inbox is next to godliness.

A stitch in time can save you from a wardrobe malfunction.

As quick as a Buggati Veyron (267 m/h).

Better be safe than stalked.

The keyboard is mightier than a sword.

An idle mind is always on Facebook.

Two’s company, 3 is a community.

A MAC in hand is worth 2 PCs in a bush.

Never put off till tomorrow, what you can find on Google today (basically everything).

To err is to Windows 98, to forgive is to Windows 7.

The internet is always faster, on the other side.

Tweet and the whole world tweets with you, cry and you cry alone.

Fun right? Plus, it’s pretty simple. It took me less than 15 minutes to come up with these. Maybe you could do a lot better. I’d like to hear some from you.

Cheers!

Disclaimer: These are all original and written by moi. By a freak coincidence if you happen to read something similar, then HE/SHE stole it from me. Get it?

The Ads of the Fore

Television has been such an integral part of growing up, especially for those of us born is the latter half of the 80s. Computers were confined to the labs and phones which could be carried in the pocket were science fiction. Hence, television was the chief form of visual entertainment for a notable period of growing up.

What stands out about “that” era of television were the advertisements. Unlike today, there were a few advertisements and they went on for years. So much so, that television viewing wasn’t complete without humming the tunes and mouthing the lyrics of the ads as they played out. Today, the advertisements are treated with contempt but back then the ads boasted of as much importance as the shows itself.

Some of these ads still play today and are a subject of fond reminiscence and ridicule. One such ad which stands out is that of “Vicco Vajradanti”, which still airs on Doordarshan and some of the theatres. In college, we use to sing the entire song that played with the ad, as loudly as we could, in chorus and have a hearty laugh at the end. Not surprisingly, everybody remembered the lyrics. Pepsi might have changed its tagline many a times in the last 2 decades but “Yeh dil maange more” which ends with the satisfying “aaaaaa hhhaa” will always remain special. Even today, when I’m extracting the last few drops of ketchup from the bottle I implicitly start saying “Aaja, aah aah aaja, aah aah aaja....aah aah aaaaah”.

“Those were the days”, I think smiling stupidly, and feeling like an 80 year old stuck in the body of a 21 year old. At that moment somebody switches the television on and I snap out of my reverie.

Taare Zameen Par - My version (Stars on the ground)

It is known that parents play a pivotal role in shaping the future of the child. Shaping a future doesn’t really mean choosing between courses in engineering, medicine, law, etc and getting them married off to a good family with a large closet. A parent has to encourage and motivate the young one to be proficient in the field they show promise in and in some cases identify the avenue which would suit the potential of the kid.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go that well for me. Here unfolds the grievous story of my life.

In the not too recent past, I would watch some of the episodes of Indian Idol and other singing shows, thanks to the over 3 month long furlough. I would find that almost every contestant thanked their parents or at least some member of the family (usually the mom), and accredit their success to the encouragement they provided. This was usually accompanied by the mother or parents being called on stage for some public display of affection. What usually follows is 30 seconds of drama and tears, stretched over 10 minutes, thanks to the technique of slow motion (inspired from cricket). To top it all, the drama unfolds to a sad Hindi number. The combination works like a dream and everybody from judges to the contestants (except the producer) start crying and bundles of tissues are passed around. I watch the drama unfold with my mouth wide open and no sense of emotion. My mother equally touched and rather taken aback by my indifference says, “You have a heart of stone”.

At this moment comes flashing back to me, the memory of the humiliation I had felt many many years ago. Unfortunately, my life isn’t as rosy as one of these contestants on the show. Every time I watch my mother appreciate the participants on any singing show, a silent rage burgeons within me. To add a concoction of chilli powder, salt and lime juice to my wounds my mother adds, “Our Sri Ram sings so well. He really deserves to win”. Just because he belongs to the same city he is “our” Sri Ram? What about me Ma?

As I lay motionless in my seat, my mind drifts off to a flash back. Then I immediately come out of it. I pick up my tetra pack of juice, put the straw in my mouth, suck in the nectar and then drift off again to my painful past.

Most of my childhood friends and me are members of a club which is located in the same area we stay in. It’s the usual club like any other, with some sports facilities, library, the occasional boring cultural nights, annual dinner, movies and bureaucracy. The most exciting time for us as kids, was the early part of November and it would go on till November 14^th, children’s day. There would be loads of competitions which included cultural, sports, literary, etc for children from kindergarten to class 10 and we made it a point to take part in every possible event.

Most of you must have guessed by now that this post has some relevance to singing. You are absolutely right. Singing was one of the events I took part in every year, since I was 4. My mother had always been very encouraging and would go out of her way to help me, no matter what the endeavour. For the singing competition, she would painfully pen down the lyrics by playing and rewinding the tape recursively a million times before she could complete it for me, as we didn’t have the luxury of internet back then (The irony is she works for Google now). There couldn’t be a more understanding and encouraging mother. Or so I thought.

This ritual went on till I was in class 5 or 6 but I never won, which was quite a surprise to me. I was growing older and was becoming quite the connoisseur of music. My whole definition of music changed when I listened to the genius, Devang Patel, for the first time. The guy who made spoofs of some of the top Hindi and English songs, remember? (Mambo No. 5 became bambo No. 5 and Barbie girl became chaloo (cunning) girl). Anyway, I chose his track “Ladoo kha” (eat ladoo) which was to the tune of Coco Jumbo by Mr. President. I am sorry to say this, but I found Mr. Patel’s track way better than Mr. President’s. Yes, I chose a Devang Patel track for the singing competition and was cheered on by a lot of smiling faces and a few rolling on the floor laughing. I got off the stage pleased with myself and went to my mother sitting in the audience, who was covering her face with a magazine, which I thought was because of the glaring halogen lights, but thinking about it today, I have my doubts.

The results were to be announced the next day and I went home happy and excited. Maybe this was the year I was waiting for. However, my mother had other plans. She called me and I rambled towards her half expecting her to extol my performance. There she stood serious. Was something wrong, I wondered? She tells to me, “Gogo, I know you have been singing every year for the children’s day and that you really enjoy it. But now you are getting older. I think you should stop”. The earth below my feet shook and I couldn’t believe what I heard. I asked her in despair, “Why Ma”? To which she replied, “I’m sorry son, but you just can’t sing”. I was rendered speechless and couldn’t even reason it out with her. However, the jolt I got that day left such an impact that I never got onto a stage again to sing.

So do I really sing well?

As my friend Rahul Gayam, aka psycho puts it rather philosophically in his style, “The smell of our own fart never bothers us and it’s always the others who have a problem with it”. Disgusting but true. I think I am as good as any of the blokes on television though it’s a different story that my singing has never been appreciated and I attribute this to jealousy. To support my singing abilities, I know for a fact that videos of me singing out loud, while listening to my ipod, have been made and circulated. What I fail to understand is why these videos have “funny stuff” and other similar titles. I promise to get down to the bottom of that and solve the mystery.

Nobody around me has ever been encouraging or supportive when it comes to my singing. But if you study the lives of the many masters of music, they too had to go through a similar ordeal. Like them, I will not let people or circumstances bog me down. I still believe in my talent and I shall show to the world one day, what I am all about.

Adios.

Author’s note:

In defence of my mother, she goes out of her way to support me in every other endeavour of mine, more than any normal mother would and for which I will forever be grateful to her. 

INDIA GETS ITS SUPERHERO

Now don’t go saying that we already have Krisshhhsshshh (or whatever the spelling is). I am talking about a superhero for REAL. One that gives justice to the deserving, hope to the distraught, love to the despondent and entertainment to the bored. Fighting crime has always been an uphill task, one which we were never very good at. In pressing times like these, this superhero is a godsend, who pledges to be the guardian of justice.

She calls herself (yes it’s a “she”), Supergirl*. Rings a bell? No? Well, it’s none other than our Indianised version of a mix between Paris Hilton and a straight Lindsey Lohan, Rakhi Sawant. Not new to the concept of reality television (who can forget the whole swayamvar drama), she is back and with such a bang that it makes me want to bang my head to the wall. The show is called “‘Rakhi Ka Insaaf… Dil se” (Rakhi’s justice) and she is out to give justice from her dil (heart). Well, at least they got that part right coz dimaag (brain) is not really an option.


The medium for this weapon of mass destruction is NDTV-Imagine again, who seem to take a liking to such insipid pabulum. I was channel surfing and all of a sudden I froze. I couldn’t see much, thanks to her pink fluorescent lipstick which blinded me but I wish I had gone deaf too. Unfortunately, that didn't happen and I heard what I shouldn't have. Rakhi Sawant is going to dole out justice? And with that Indian television has officially stooped down to its lowest level. Was this a joke? I needed to find out.

I managed to gouge out an interview in which she talks about her new show. I am jobless after all, so don’t give me that look. If you feel sorry for me, donations in kind and cash, are welcome. On being asked the reason behind doing this show, she says “People assume that I am very funny, well I am not like that. One cannot show his pain in public”. Now there are gender issues too? Looks more like grammar issues so I’ll give her the benefit of doubt. I’m not so insensitive. She adds, “Since my childhood I have seen many sins happening in front of me, I have tolerated many things in my life, which has made me so strong that today I can fight any thing that comes my way”. That is really something to admire but who will save us from this sin that you are going to commit? 

So will we be seeing a sobered down Rakhi dressed in a more judge-like manner? She has it all sorted out.  “I will be either wearing my hot dresses or sarees. It all depends on the nature of the case. I will be personally researching on the cases, and decide my costume according”. ROFLMAO! Rakhi Sawant, you are truly a proof that God has a sense of humour.

Disclaimer: I am a big fan of Rakhi Sawant and this article is based on assumptions about her, which I strongly disagree with. I love you Rakhi and I would love to be a part of your Swayamwar season 2.


Oh and I am no way involved with the promotion of the show. Consider this a warning.

*Supergirl is a song Rakhi Sawant sang.