Man From Matunga

July 02, 2010

The Irrelevance (or Not) of Junior College

Last week, I asked the daughter of a friend of mine, who has 91% in SSC and wants to take up Science, what her criterion for choosing a good college was! Pat came the reply. A college that doesn't bother with attendance.

I just can't fathom the current brouhaha over the junior college admissions.

What are the parents who have gone to court, fighting for? The right to get into a college of their kids' choice and then not attend? Is there any college left that actually teaches and makes classes and tuitions irrelevant? Or as it appears to be, have the colleges become academically irrelevant with the onslaught of classes and tuitions. And if this is true, then wouldn't the best college to go to, be the one that cares two hoots about attendance and allows the kids to attend classes outside, even during college hours?

So, is there some other non-academic relevance to junior college that has everyone so riled up?

For many students, junior college is a rite-of-passage; just not having to wear a uniform after ten years can be liberating in itself. And then there are other culture shocks and milestones; finding yourself surrounded by kids of the opposite sex, especially if you are from a same-sex school; understanding that other types of schools exist as well and that everyone does not have the same thinking process; realizing that being a topper in school does not guarantee standing first in college; figuring out that 'Our Father in Heaven' is not a universal prayer across all academic institutions (just kidding!).

These issues can make or break a student! What makes things easier is having a great peer group; either school-friends all going to the same college together (how boring) or finding new friends with similar interests (how exciting). This becomes simpler if the kids get admission to a 'good' college, which essentially is one that ensures that all the students within the college meet a certain basic minimum social and intellectual level, which in turn hopefully allows easier compatibility within the peer-group. Oh, and the 'katta' or 'aka', the canteen food and chai, the entertainment in the vicinity and access to Ayn Rand books, are all important issues as well!

All of which effectively mean that the choice of junior college is governed by only two issues; whether minimum attendance is compulsory or not and whether the college and its image fit into the social and intellectual world-view of the student and the parents. Academics has nothing to do with the choice of college!

Not that things were particularly different even 30 years ago. I joined the best science college in the Dadar-Matunga area, but the college did nothing for me academically; I got into graduate college because of the vacation classes in PCM and tuitions in PCB. Quite absurdly, the only disciplines I was enthusiastic about in that college were English and French, partly because Ms. Bhelande and Ms. Ruby were both so damned passionate about their respective subjects and partly perversely because these subjects had no relevance to my getting into graduate college. Though a short two years, junior college, was a defining point of time in my life, coming especially as I did, from an all-boys school with a lot of attitude. To top it all, I was lucky to have forged some terrific friendships, most of which have survived till today!

It is definitely worth fighting about the choice of junior colleges...just as long as we all know what the true reasons are!

Posted by bhavinj at 06:26 PM | Comments (0)

June 18, 2010

Extreme Time Warps

I sometimes find myself wondering about the extreme time warps we live with.

One is our black and yellow taxis, which are just complete disasters. There was once a time perhaps, many decades ago, when taking a cab meant that you were well-heeled and people would actually look up to you, if they saw you getting out of one. This was however also the time, when Premier Padminis and Ambassadors ruled the roost and the only cola was Campa.

Guess what! Those of us who used to drive those horrible cars have now moved on, not necessarily to more expensive cars, but definitely to 'better' ones; more importantly we now enjoy a wide choice of vehicles to fit all budgets and needs. Unfortunately, the black and yellows are still caught in a 3 decade old time-warp; smelly, rickety, bumpy and noisy, apart from being horrendously uncomfortable and still driven by uncouth, "paan"-chewing and spitting drivers, who push their front seat all the way back, so that there is no space for you in the backseat. In today's day and age, it is sheer torture to sit in one of them and when you see someone stepping off one of these, you feel a combination of pity for what they have had to endure and anger because today, a cab-ride is really just a grand rip-off. Granted that there are newer air-conditioned cabs on the roads, but unfortunately, they don't cruise and are rarely available at short notice.

The black and yellow Padminis have to go!

On the other hand, I find myself daily in a futuristic time warp. A future of tablets, connectivity, great apps, virtually instant start-up and absent crashes. A future where your whole computer can fit into the palm of your hand, without the weight killing you.

Day before yesterday, the Google Earth app was released on the ITunes store and it works just magnificently on the IPAD. A few days before that, QuickOffice was released, allowing both Google Docs and Microsoft Office documents to be easily edited. Today, I use this device for all my email, most of my browsing, for reading books, scientific papers, many magazines, my RSS feeds, for seeing TV shows, making presentations and for taking notes. And (though I rarely admit this), even for playing games (Scrabble just rocks). Virtually 80% of my entire computing gets done on this handheld tablet. This article is also being typed on and emailed from the IPAD. And with more and more apps being put up, the whole experience is only getting better and better.

Last Sunday, Ajit, a close friend, called for my views on the IPAD. We spoke all the way (with 3 call drops of course and I wasn't driving), from Matunga to the Gateway, discussing its pros and cons. Finally, I told him that the only way to understand the IPAD was to just get one and do a complete self-immersion, simply because there is no comparable device currently available, against which it can be benchmarked.

The IPAD is the way personal computing will go!

The big paradox that could disturb the space-time continuum? Using an IPAD in a black and yellow cab!

Posted by bhavinj at 07:38 PM | Comments (0)

June 11, 2010

The 'Unputdownable' Lisbeth Salander

Crime thrillers, detective stories and mystery novels rarely have original plots. The basic premise of someone committing a crime and someone trying to solve it, has not changed in centuries. The reason we find some authors and stories more interesting than others is mainly because of the way in which the words are handled, or because of the idiosyncrasies and character development of the crime-solvers and sometimes the villains as well. In the end, a good mystery novel is one that is..."unputdownable".

My tastes have veered from Fatty and the Find-Outers and Hardy Boys, to Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Dolye to current-day authors like Jonathan Kellerman, Richard Stark and Ian Rankin. Though, it is the authors who create these books, it is their unique characters who breath life into the plots; people such as Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Philip Marlowe and Sherlock Holmes to name a few. Unfortunately, there just aren't too many interesting detectives / policemen / criminals turned good, who have cropped up in recent times.

And since in this day and age of perennial lack of time, it is hard to justify reading a crime thriller without feeling pangs of guilt over the fact that the time spent reading it could have been used to read something more "life-changing" or "educative", a detective story has to be really, really good to justify the effort and time taken over it.

So imagine how great it felt, coming upon a protagonist, who is a thin, young, 4ft, 10in Swedish misanthrope in her 20s, a social misfit and outcast with innumerable tattoos and piercings, who only wants to be left alone, but because of the fact that she was abused as a child, wants to exact revenge on those responsible, has a photographic memory, perhaps has Asperger's syndrome, is a computer hacker and fights to maim and hurt.

Welcome to the world of Lisbeth Salander.

Lisbeth is a character created by Stieg Larsson, who has written three crime thrillers, together also called the Millennium trilogy, around her and a journalist investigator called Mikael Blomkvist. The stories are based in Sweden, mainly Stockholm. For starters, the books completely blow away any ideas we may have had of the Scandinavian countries being peace-loving, slow-paced islands of "ramrajya". Add to this, the complex plots, the central theme of sexual abuse and the combination of Lisbeth and Blomkvist...and you have three books that are..."unputdownable".

I am still on an idyllic local vacation and knowing that I had some time, I downloaded all three books into my Kindle app on the IPAD and finished reading them over a span of five days. The first book is "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", which can be read as a standalone novel but also provides the background for the other two books, the first of which, "The Girl Who Played with Fire", is really just the first half of a story that finally ends in "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest". Mr. Larsson died of a massive heart attack after finishing these three books; he had apparently planned ten.

Many people have compared Lisbeth to Modesty Blaise; I wouldn't know since my exposure to Modesty Blaise is restricted to the lurid Sunday comic strip of my youth. But whatever Lisbeth may be like, it is amazing the kind of empathy Mr. Larsson manages to evoke for her, despite all her shortcomings and lack of traditional morals.

After a long time, we have a character, for whom it is worth spending the time required to get to know her better, in the pages where she lives.

Posted by bhavinj at 08:25 PM | Comments (0)

June 04, 2010

Crossing the Circle

Last Sunday, in exasperation and anger, I hit the rear passenger door of an Audi with the flat of my hand. The Audi went a little ahead and slowed down, but then prudently decided to drive on, once a traffic policeman started walking towards it. My hand however kept stinging for another 10 minutes. And worse, my usually hot-headed daughter started counselling me about temper control.

The Sunday before that, I lashed out at a bike and managed to hit the pillion rider. Luckily for both of us, the rider in front did not lose control.

It's been the same story for the last 5-6 Sundays. In the evening, between 6 and 7 PM, my kids and I take a walk from our home to Abbas, the only circulating library left this side of town, so that the kids can return the previous Sunday's books and borrow new ones. The walk is quite nice... and the Circle bustles with activity; people buying liquor, getting their photographs done, checking out the various salons that have suddenly mushroomed all over the Circle, waiting patiently outside the various food joints, eating ice-cream or partaking from the various food-carts on the broad pavements, getting their shoes polished or on their way to or from Matunga market.

Our walk involves crossing the main road once to go over to the other side of the Circle.

It's an insane situation!

The signal for pedestrians is just too short. The time that it takes to cross is barely enough for a young, able-bodied person; elderly people often have to wait in the middle and cross over two signals. Part of this is because the pedestrians are rarely able to utilise the entire time allotted for crossing.

Because, the cars just refuse to stop.

It's a busy pedestrian junction. The cars and bikes can obviously see that there are people waiting to cross. But they don't stop. Perhaps if it was 5.00AM in the morning, the 'not-stopping' could be justified. But at 6.00PM in the evening? Worse, there is hardly anyone around to enforce the law. And once in a while, if there are cops, even they are ineffective. But, that's not the point!

What is wrong with these half-witted, idiotic, "sitting on their brains" drivers? Can't they see the elderly and the young children waiting to cross? Is one minute of 'waiting' going to make an earth-shattering difference to their useless, boring, inconsequential lives?

Virtually each time the vehicle signal turns red and the cars continue past the signal, someone has to jump into the traffic and shout at the dolts to make them stop. Sometimes, someone like me hits out as well. It's less painful during the monsoons, when there is an umbrella at hand.

It's a crazy situation that seems to have no solution, simply because both the problem and solution are us. And we are not likely to change!

We are all like that only!

So, for whatever this is worth, here is an appeal to any of you, who drives past King's Circle. Please! Stop at the signal, when it turns red! Please!

Posted by bhavinj at 07:20 PM | Comments (0)

May 28, 2010

The Languidness of May

Its everywhere.

In people, in places, in the city...in this piece as well.

It's best appreciated at Phoenix Mall, where bored teenagers gather to kill time. The girls all have an unstated uniform - hot pants, halter T-shirts, painted nails and flip-flops. The gait is a slow waddle. The guys follow.

The boys and girls at the check-out lanes in the supermarkets are slower now than ever, as are the Cafe Coffee Day baristas. Its all sossegado. No one is in a hurry. There is nowhere to rush to.

The traffic too seems to have decided to take it easy. It takes half the time these days to get from anywhere to anywhere, at least in South and Central Mumbai. The honking is down. The harried mothers clogging the 9.00AM and 4.00PM roads have all but disappeared.

The kids are constantly lounging. Glazed looks in front of the television. Hoping actually for school to start. Half the friends are away, the other half gathering in the house that is the coolest. The outdoor games are played without energy, usually in the twilight zone between dusk and sunset...and they are still soaked in no time.

Work is down. Customers, clients and referrers are all away. There is no sense of urgency, even among those who have come from out of town. And there are very few coming in from out of town anyway.

The clouds are in on this as well. Two days ago, in the evening, the rain-clouds gathered as if debating internally what to do. The sky was momentarily overcast, raising hopes that perhaps one or two of them would break away and burst and pour down. Eventually, listlessly, they all ambled away.

The markets are volatile. But the street talk is all "theek hai", "hota hai", "manage ho jayega", "badme cover kar lenge". Its as if everyone has momentarily learnt to detach himself/herself from the outcomes.

It's the late May syndrome, which is getting more and more pronounced each passing year.

With some exceptions, though!
- The International airport is a fish-market.
- The railway platforms for outgoing trains are even worse, if there is anything that can be worse than a crowded fish-market.
- The main street of Interlaken looks like someone's transplanted Five Gardens there.
- Istanbul looks like Colaba Causeway.
- And, London feels like being in a Karan Johar film with lots of fair-skinned extras milling around.

I'm not complaining.

It's a good state of mind to be in.

And since we have only till 14 June, let's just enjoy the limpidness and laziness and listlessness, while we can. (Does anyone know why all of these words start with "L"?)

Posted by bhavinj at 07:30 PM | Comments (0)

May 21, 2010

Running With and Straddling Diversity

"I walk a lonely road,
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone"

This is how "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" starts. Even though I first heard this number by Green Day, a few years ago, it still, each time I hear it, unfailingly sweeps me off my feet. And, if I play it at the end of a tiring run, it always manages to infuse into me the extra zing and stimulation that I need to keep myself going for at least another round and a half. "Boulevard..." ranks in my top 10 all-time great list of Western rock numbers, a list that also includes "Stairway to Heaven", and "Bohemian Rhapsody".

Three days ago, during a run, "Boulevard..." was followed by this Hindi number on my music player.
"Ae Khuda, mujhko bataa, tu rehta kahan, tera kya pataa
Hum to yahan pe musafir hain, jo dhoondhe apni manzil ka pataa"
I didn't miss a beat and continued running with the same extra vigor that "Boulevard..." had initiated.

I heard "Ae Khuda" for the first time recently on Indian Idol. I found this song by Salim Merchant so enthralling that I immediately ripped it off a '"Paathshala" music CD. I hadn't expected it to play during my run, and I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't have to break my stride throughout the duration of the song.

My running playlist has a mix of Hindi and English songs...all of them uplifting and with a beat that matches my stride. And honestly, the language makes no difference...my feet and mind are equally comfortable with both.

There are many like me who grew up on a steady diet of Hindi songs. Binaca Geetmala on Radio Ceylon was a weekly staple and a way of being in touch with the latest numbers. In the 80s, like many of my friends, I slowly graduated to classic rock bands like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and the Doors, along with the Beatles and The Who, with some bubble-pop, like Abba thrown in as well. And, over the years, my tastes have veered from metal to punk to Shamshad Begum to chick-pop to Indian rock and briefly, even to Jagjit Singh.

No wonder so many of us are so schizoid. Straddling multiple cultures, which differ so completely and yet are so assimilated in us that while running, if the IPOD shuffles suddenly from "Stayin Alive" to "Tum Mile", I don't even miss a beat.

And how things have changed.

In the 80s, if you listened to rock, it was infra-dig to like contemporary Hindi film music and you could, horror of horrors, never ever dance to Hindi music in discos. Never, ever! Only old Mukesh and Rafi renderings were considered acceptable listening by the 'sophos' and 'pseuds'. Somewhere down the line though, Hindi film music became more and more acceptable across all levels of our society, and now more often than not, there is more Hindi music than Western playing at many dance parties and in discotheques.

In how many cultures across the world, would this be seamlessly possible? How many people are able to effortlessly move among completely diverse genres, without any conscious effort? Isn't this uniqueness among a good number of Indians, something to be proud of?

Posted by bhavinj at 07:53 PM | Comments (0)

May 14, 2010

Galli Friends, School Friends, College Friends....Your Closest Friends!

Mr. Pritish Nandy, many eons ago, in The Illustrated Weekly, once posed a question that went somewhat like this, "What will you do if a friend, who you call a close friend, comes to you saying that he has just killed someone and wants your help?"

I have been quite clear about the answer since those early days. If you believe this person to be your closest of close friends, then you'll help. Period. You can't rationalise and think of options and consequences. There are no buts in a close friendship.

The problem is that such friends are really hard to find. And the question that each one of you must ask yourself is this. "Do you have at least one friend on whom you can unload your deepest, darkest secrets? Just one person who you can trust with anything and everything? Just one individual in this whole, wide world, who will stand by you, come what may?" I know people who have tons of friends and the knack of creating back-slapping buddies out of people they have met for less than a minute and yet have not one such person they can lean back on.

The simplest and the strongest friendships are the "galli" and building ones, followed by those forged in school, junior-college, college and graduate college, in decreasing order of strength of friendship, with professional colleagues and recent acquaintances coming last.

I am not saying that all school or "galli" friends are as close and non-questioning as Mr. Nandy would want them to be. However, virtually all close friendships are forged in school or during college days. As we grow older and meet people mainly from our professions and in the work-place, we tend to circle more and more, feinting, questioning, parring and then taking time to reveal one little facet after another, unwilling to strip off all the masks that we have learnt to put on, over the decades. It is only with friends made when we were very young that our personas are close to naked, with hardly any layers to peel.

Even if your school-friends are not your closest friends, they are still the one set of people with whom you don't have to put on an act. You can be as you are, without having to worry about what others will think of you, especially if you get a little drunk and can't control the "*&%&&£@£"s that may uncontrollably start rolling off your tongue. Who you are and what you have become, don't matter a lot with with "galli" and school-friends, while more recent friendships are invariably based on your current status and position. When we were young, the people around us came from a wide variety of backgrounds, while today, we more and more tend to only meet and interact with people who are just like us.

Which is why the thought of meeting up with old school friends at our 30-year reunion is so exciting. It matters not if you haven't met each other for more than 10 years...it takes less than 5 minutes to get back on track. Right now all our efforts are focussed on just contacting as many of those who have passed out in 1980 from Don Bosco, Matunga.

And without spouses, we will all be able to regress easily to our childhood states, without any worries. And hopefully, some of us will stay sober. Or not. Whatever. Who cares! We will take care of each other. After all, that's what old friends are for!

Posted by bhavinj at 09:38 PM | Comments (0)

May 07, 2010

Humble Pie

I celebrated my 45th birthday a few weeks ago. Unless cancer or cardiac disease strikes me down or an accident claims me prematurely, the statistical probability that I will live till the age of 90 is quite high. I believe I have lived a full life till date, but it's been a long 45 years with all it's ups and downs. I can't even begin to fathom what it will take to get through another lifetime of 45 years...it's scary.

The issue is not just the number of years that I might actually land up living. It's the fact that these years will be considerably different from the ones that have gone by; sooner rather than later, as younger blood emerges, I will no longer continue to be the top dog that I currently am; the children will grow up and leave; old friends will dwindle in number and the body will start misbehaving in tiny innumerable ways.

Whatever and wherever I may be these days, the contemplation of another 45 years is instantaneously humbling, bringing me down to Earth virtually immediately, deflating without any further ado, whatever-sized balloon I might be at that point in time!

Humility isn't easy to come by. The 'do you know who I am' and 'don't ask me I know everything' syndromes are getting to be more and more pervasive. And this, despite the fact that we don't really know much about a good number of things. We don't even know what causes Alzheimer's disease forget about even starting to know what leads to a conscious state of being. You'd think that this lack of knowledge and understanding by itself would make most of us more humble, but our bubbles of self-delusion are unfortunately only growing larger and larger, day by day.

The New York Times last week Wednesday carried the story of a lady with Stage IV breast cancer that had metastasised to her bones. She was given less than 2 years to live. She is now alive for 17 years and none of the expert oncologists really knows why. The human body can still stump the most brilliant minds and hands; any doctor who doesn't understand this is just plain self-delusional and blinded by the fog of a self-engineered God complex.

It's not just doctors, but experts in virtually all fields and disciplines, who need to acknowledge their lack of answers to so many questions and puzzles in life. Else, why would the vast majority of economists, financial pundits and experts not have seen the recent financial crisis coming? You'd think that at least after this fiasco, all these experts would have learnt their lessons, but I don't think humility is a quality that is taught in business school.

Nature humbles us all the time, but we just don't learn. The recent volcanic eruption was in Iceland, but people were stranded all across the globe, farmers in Kenya were on the verge of bankruptcy, conferences and meetings were canceled overnight and no one even knew how long this would continue, some experts even talking of an ash cloud for 2 years.

No wonder that pride and conceit, individual and collective, have always had a short shelf life, a lesson, which if both the Modi's had taken to heart, would have perhaps averted their current problems. Each one of us at some point in time has had to eat crow. What makes the great among us stand out is the grace and seemingly effortless humility with which they accept both, success and failure equally, without letting either get to their heads. I know a few such people. Do you?

Posted by bhavinj at 09:43 PM | Comments (0)

April 30, 2010

My Kids' Grouse with Mr. Anu Malik's Rudeness!

During dinner last night, my kids and my nephew starting discussing the Indian Idol eliminations that are currently being aired on television. This was the first time that they were watching these early Indian Idol episodes and the main topic of discussion was the judges' rudeness. They felt that Mr. Anu Malik and the other two judges, Ms. Sunidhi Chauhan and Mr. Salim Merchant were being unnecessarily rude to the contestants, especially those who were singing badly.

One example they quoted was of a contestant from Kolkata, who sang so badly from the start that all the judges, in a synchronised manner, just put their heads down on the table, in disgust. The contestant was very upset and expressed this on his way out. My kids were surprisingly in agreement with him.

I had watched the first two episodes as well and knew what they were talking about. I find these early audition episodes quite entertaining, especially because the judges are not politically correct, even though they fall far short of Mr. Simon Cowell's insults on American Idol.

I was a little surprised at my kids' thinking. I presume that this is probably related to the way things have changed at school with respect to competition, because of which they truly believe that everything and everyone should be fair and should be given an equal chance, irrespective of the presence or absence of talent and ability.

I think its time I make them read the "Eleven Rules of Life", apparently ascribed to Mr. Bill Gates in circulating emails, though in reality excerpted from the book "Dumbing Down Our Kids" by Mr. Charles Sykes.

Rule 1 - Life is not fair - get used to it

Rule 8 - Your school may have done away with winners and losers but life has not. In some schools they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

I'm sure you get the central theme.

The kids need to realise that that hard work is important, that talent is important, that if you don't do well, your parents won't always be there to mollycoddle you, that you won't always get what you want, that ventures may fail, that you usually need to work like a dog to succeed.

And that' where I have a problem with Indian Idol; that the judges are not rude enough and should perhaps be more like Mr. Cowell and less like Ms. Paula Abdul. If someone thinks he can sing and turns out to be "besura", that person should be told the truth, straight on his face, without mincing words. And those who try to win sympathy by coming up with hard-luck stories, like the Army gentleman, who couldn't sing, but who played on his cancer-struck sister's recent death, should be torn down even more, rather than be hugged for being brave enough to come to the audition. The cynic in me refuses to believe that this was not an attempt at getting into Indian Idol on the back of a dead sister. Honestly, if you are willing to try anything to get your 10 seconds of fame, you should be willing to take your 10 seconds of rebuke as well.

Anyway, I wasn't able to convince my kids that it is acceptable to be rude if the context demands it. So, I just hope that they learn fast, that in the real world, people will be rude and horrible and unpleasant and that they they will have to face these people and situations, eventually on their own.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:52 PM | Comments (0)

April 23, 2010

I am Alive Because of My Child...But my Child is Not...Alive!

I can keep going on and on about all the issues that irk me day after day, as far as drivers and cars in Mumbai are concerned. Overshooting the white line at the signal, incessant honking, refusing to give way and driving in the middle of a two-lane road, making sudden turns without signaling...the list is virtually endless.

However, among all these, the one thing that really drives me around the bend, is seeing adults holding infants and children in their laps in the passenger seat.

This has to be the most insane thing that a parent or adult can do. Just so that there is no misunderstanding and to ensure that we are all on the same page here, let me run through this scenario again. I am talking of a situation where an adult or parent sits in the front seat of a moving car with a child on his/her lap.

Seeing this make me so mad, that I have actually overtaken cars on the road, made them stop and berated the parents and drivers. Unfortunately, this never works. Why is this such a big deal? Are you kidding me?

Let's assume that you are in a head-on collision. You are in the passenger seat, with your son or daughter in your lap. The force of the collision will either create an impact between the front dashboard and your body or will cause the airbags to get activated. When this happens, your child will be your cushion. In effect, your child will bear the brunt of all the high-impact forces and reduce their effect on you. You will live, but your child may not.

I know this sounds quite gruesome, but I really don't know how else to get this message across. In the Western, developed world, a child has to be kept in a proper car-seat with correct restraints/belts in the back-seat of the car, even if there is no one else in the car. No child is allowed to ride in the front-seat, forget about riding in the lap of an adult. Please understand that in the event of a collision, even an airbag can kill a child. Not only that, since children can rarely be still for more than 1-2 minutes at a time, they can significantly distract the driver, if they are in the adjacent passenger seat, which can in turn lead to an accident.

Even holding a child in your lap or arms in the back-seat is not acceptable because in the event of an accident, an unrestrained child will be flung around in the car and can suffer serious injuries. But just as many motor-cyclists still don't wear helmets, drivers in many other cities in India still don't wear seat-belts, families of four still ride together on a dinky scooter, I guess some things will not change unless there is strict legislation and enforcement.

It is because of this enforcement, that at least in Mumbai, we all wear seat-belts, irrespective of whether we believe this saves lives or not. Trust me, it does! It is the same strict enforcement that has made people think ten times before driving after drinking and probably three-four times before driving while talking on a cell-phone.

I am quite clear about this. The next driving law we need enforced has to be about child safety. All children should be in the back-seat, in car-seats and/or wearing seat-belts. No children should be seen in the front-seats and definitely not in some idiot adult's lap.

Is someone listening?

Posted by bhavinj at 08:06 PM | Comments (0)

April 17, 2010

The IPAD Phenomenon - When Paradigms Shift Drastically

There are times and there are times. And there's this week. My IPAD arrived Monday (thanks Madhavi and Amol). Today is Thursday night and I am sitting in front of it, the device propped up on a custom-made, solid teak-wood stand designed by Murthy (thanks Murthy), touch-typing this piece on the Pages app. The only reason I miss Microsoft Word is the absence of a word counter, but I am sure that my editor will be able to sort things out in case I go overboard.

Ever since the IPAD has been announced, people have been making profound 'expert' comments, discussing it's pros and cons even though most of them have never even seen one, forget about having used one. It's been called everything from a net book to a Kindle-killer to a glorified photo-frame. And guess what...it is all of these and more.

So what is it! It is first of all NOT just an ebook reader like the Kindle. In fact with the Kindle app available on the IPAD it doesn't even matter anymore whether you use the IBooks app or the Kindle app to read books.

To me, the IPAD is a completely new computer platform, familiar in some ways if you've been using an IPhone, but still different in many other ways. Depending on the kind of work you do on a computer, the IPAD can probably take care of about 80-90% of your needs. Email? Check. Web-surfing? Check. RSS newsreader? Check. Calendar? Check. YouTube? Check. Facebook? Check. Twitter? Check. Music? Check.

From a work and productivity perspective, the Pages, Numbers and Keynote apps provide basic word-processing, spreadsheet and presentation capabilities, respectively. In fact, Keynote can probably take care of the presentation needs of more than 90% of the people, 90% of the times and I was able to use it and connect to an LCD projector on Tuesday itself. For those in the scientific fields, the Papers app is perhaps the best reason to have the IPAD - all your .pdfs, perfectly PUBMED catalogued, available at your fingertips....literally. And, the Things app is perhaps the best To-Do management tool ever. The battery-life is a good 10-12 hours...essentially you charge it at night and the IPAD works throughout the day on that one single charge. And every app/program opens virtually instantaneously, though you can use one only app at a time.

Downsides? It's heavily net dependant and good connectivity is a must. File management and transfer are a bit of a pain and if you want to type fast you can't just hold it in your hands...it needs to be propped up.

Each new device will have individual pros and cons that can be discussed ad nauseum in all kinds of forums. What is radically different about the IPAD, is it's form and design and the way it changes how you use and experience a laptop. There is no lid, no power cord and no mouse, just your fingers. You can use it tilted, sideways, or straight-up. You can lie flat and hold it above you. You can cradle it in one arm or hold it in front with two. You and the device are connected by just your fingertips; no wires or cords...it can't get more intimate than this.

There will soon be more devices like the IPAD, from other manufacturers. And at some point, in the not-too-distant future, virtually all computing except for some heavy-duty, professional or proprietary stuff, will be done only on devices like this.

I am holding the future of personal computing in my hands. And typing this piece on it. And emailing it as a Word doc to the Mirror office from the device itself. How much better can it get?

Posted by bhavinj at 11:31 AM | Comments (0)

April 09, 2010

Stupid or Smart! It's All a Matter of Perspective!

Last week, during the Easter weekend, with access to our favorite garden cut-off, my wife and I landed up at Five Gardens for a walk. Usually a quiet and popular place in the evenings, the area last week was a complete disaster. The heavy traffic on the central roads not only raised the decibel levels sky-high, the constant flow of cars also made it difficult and dangerous to cross from one garden to another. And with some parts dug up, it was virtually impossible to walk along the entire outer Circle.

That's not even really the point of this story!

Adenwalla Road connects King's Circle to Five Gardens. For some time now, it has been dug up in such a way that you cannot use this road to go directly from King's Circle to Five Gardens. If you come in from Five Gardens, the road ends after 150 meters or so and you either have to stop and park, if you live there, or you have to turn around and go back.

At the Five Gardens end, there is a big aluminum sheet barrier, just where the left turn into Adenwalla road starts, which sports a prominent sign saying "No Entry". Then 10 meters ahead, where Adenwalla road crosses the outer Circle, there is another similar barrier with a "No Entry" sign.

You would think this would be enough for most people.

That day, after I found the outer Circle painful, I realized that I could walk and even run on the newly laid, 150-meter stretch of concrete on Adenwalla road. With my new running playlist on my new IPhone, I started walking and running back and forth on this road.

That's when I noticed the really smart, stupid people. Every 3-4 minutes, a car would turn into Adenwalla road from Five Gardens. Seeing this car, invariably, a couple more would follow, I guess assuming that the first car was being driven by someone who knew something that they didn't.

A quarter of those who came through were people living on Adenwalla road, returning home. But the rest of the cars were driven by extra-smart people, confident perhaps that they would find at least some way of getting through to King's Circle, despite all those "No Entry" signs. So they would drive those 150 meters and suddenly hit a dead-end, then they would roll down their windows and ask the boys who were playing cricket how to get across, and on finding that even their smartness wouldn't be able to help them do that, they would then make a U-turn and drive back the way they had come, having wasted a good 5-10 minutes of their time proving their stupidity.

Every 3-4 minutes, one car!

Trying to be smart, by assuming that everyone else following the rules was stupid!

These are the same people who drink and drive! Who drive without seatbelts! Who drive on a one-way road from the "No Entry" side! Who drive with a child on their lap on the front-seat! Who drive while talking on cell-phones! Who ignore central dividers and obstruct traffic from the opposite side when there is a traffic-jam! Who break signals whenever there is no policeman around!

These are the same people who think that everyone who follows rules and pays attention to signboards is stupid.

The funny thing is that they wallow so much in their presumed smartness, that they cannot even recognize who the truly "stupid" people actually are!

Posted by bhavinj at 07:58 PM | Comments (0)

April 02, 2010

How the Cloud has Made me Free

Warning: If you're not one of those who sleeps with a laptop and breathes connectivity, you might find this piece a shade boring. Or not!

I am a self-professed geek. I bought my first laptop in 1994 and since then, have hardly ever been without one by my side, day or night. My wife used to call it (and still sometimes does) her "souten" (mistress). I have emails from 1999 still stored on my hard-disks and backup drives and have successfully migrated photographs and videos across multiple laptops and platforms over all these years. From using Windows 3.1 to XP and now OsX on the Macbook Pro and the Air, I've been through it all, save UNIX.

Last Friday, my Air froze.

And for the first time in 16 years, I didn't and haven't panicked.

One of the important things that I had to do last Friday was to finish my piece for this column. I wrote it online using Google Docs, re-edited it on the family IMAC at home and then emailed it out. I'm doing the same thing today.

And all the other stuff?

Almost everything is up in the (Internet) cloud.

My contacts are all on Google and seamlessly sync with my IPhone. Google Calendar now controls my time and schedules and all its multiple, multi-colored calendars sync in real-time with my IPhone. About six months ago, after buying 80GB of space on Google for 20 US dollars, I created POP accounts in my Gmail account for my work, personal and a couple of other email IDs, to ensure that all my emails, from all my accounts would be automatically archived in Gmail and then be easily and rapidly searchable using Google's search engine. More importantly, I no longer have to worry about deleted or lost emails. As for sending and receiving emails on the go, the IPhone (like the Blackberry) works so well even with multiple accounts that I hardly feel the absence of a laptop. For spreadsheets and now even .pdfs, Google Docs works quite well too. And as for photographs, all of them since 1999 are on IPhoto and simultaneously archived on Picasa online.

I carry two USB devices. The first is a 64GB stick that has a bunch of backed up and archived files and videos for reference, including my Powerpoint presentations. These too, over the next few weeks, will be uploaded into Google Docs as well as Windows Live Sync, and will then be available whenever and wherever I want them, without any laptop issues to worry over. A bunch of my scanned documents has also been dumped into Evernote, the desktop version of which constantly syncs with an online server, which in turn allows me to access all these files from anywhere in the world using just a browser. The other USB device I carry, is a Tata Indicom Photon device (Reliance I believe works equally well) that allows me to go online anywhere in the country, at high-enough speeds.

Not having a laptop also means not having to carry a bag; the two USB sticks stay in my wallet and the Iphone lies in my shirt pocket, and I suddenly feel so untethered and free. Imagine the pleasure of this freedom after 16 years of being wedded to a square-shaped metal/aluminum, mice-infested object that has power (and control) issues, is prone to frequent breakdowns and constantly freezes up.

Now if only I can find a way to get rid of my phone as well!

Posted by bhavinj at 07:59 PM | Comments (0)

March 26, 2010

People Can't Be Purged

A couple of months ago, a colleague expired. I called up the family and expressed my condolences. The matter rested there, until last week, when finding myself with some free time at the airport, I started going through the address book on my cell phone and came across the dead colleague's entry. I paused for a brief moment and then went ahead and pressed the delete button. With one stroke of the keypad, his contact details were gone.

And though this seems like such an act of finality, traces of the person will continue to live on somewhere or the other in this omnipresent, almost omniscient digital world of ours, in some form or the other, whether it be emails, blog posts, photos, calendar entries, saved SMSes or Facebook or similar profiles and pages. Unless the person is a complete digital hermit, it is not possible to purge one's digital consciousness anymore, alive or dead. In essence then, digital souls just don't die!

The wired world in that sense is similar to our brain; even after people have crossed over, some trace of their being continues to remain in our minds for decades, resisting any attempt at purging or erasing.

The only thing that one can purge with respect to people, alive or dead, are ours lists and networks that they belong to. Three weeks ago, I sat down over an afternoon to bring some sanity to my Facebook Friends list, using Dunbar's rule of 150 as a benchmark. Robin Dunbar, a British anthropologist, has a theory about the number of people with whom an individual can possibly maintain a stable inter-personal relationship. He estimates the number at 150, beyond which he believes that it is not possible for an individual to handle and track people. Many people agree with him and I intuitively think that his theory is right as well.

I had more than 350 friends on Facebook and if you seriously believe that a site like this helps keep track of friends and family, then the size of the Friends list should be manageable to allow some decent interaction in the limited time one has. While going through the list, I realized that there were people there who I actually didn't know, some who had never logged back after their first try, other who had actually blocked me from seeing their Wall and many who were friends because of this column, but were either not active or were not interacting or commenting.

And so I purged and purged and purged...and I am finally down to 210 odd. I am now better able to at least once a day follow what the Friends are upto. A good number of my close friends are actually not on Facebook and if that be the case, I wonder whether the Friends list should actually go down to less than 100, but I don't really know the answer to that question.

Facebook is not real life. You can't just over one afternoon go about deleting or unfriending people in real life hoping that they will just disappear. Just like dead people continue to linger in our memories, lost friends and acquaintances also continue to occupy nether recesses in our neural networks, often showing up into our mainstreams of consciousness at the most unexpected moments. As is happening right now, where a memory of Parind Munsif from school has suddenly surfaced; Parind, who was my best friend for a couple of years, but who then completely disappeared, as if from the face of this Earth.

Life is complicated!

Posted by bhavinj at 07:33 PM | Comments (0)

March 20, 2010

It's Because They Have Guns, Stupid!

I have this fantasy. I am driving a high-end bulldozer on Mumbai's roads. Whenever I find a cab or a car parked or driving illegally, I slam into it and convert it into metal pulp. I am the road-warrior, in charge of keeping the roads of Mumbai safe. I am the unchallenged Emperor of Concrete. I can bulldoze anyone who dares me or gets in my way.

This fantasy of course, will never come true. But I keep gravitating to it, each time it gets really bad on the roads; people walking in the middle, drivers honking at me for no reason, cars in front suddenly going maddeningly slow, buses coming dangerously close, all on the same stretch of the road, all together slowly but surely, raising my temper and wrath.

Now imagine that I have a gun!

I am not sure if on a really, really bad, stressful day, after having fought with and shouted at everyone and his uncle and aunt, I would be able to resist the temptation to pull that gun out and frighten the wits out of the people who were hassling me.

Now imagine that I am a person who is unable to handle stress, or is deeply depressed, or has just lost his job or a dear one, or is in the middle of a divorce. And I also have a gun that I have pulled out so that I can make the people who are stressing me out, quiver with fear.

Something snaps.

I pull the trigger. Someone screams.

Have gun...will use!

We've been led to believe that it's extremely difficult to own a gun in our country. But it surely doesn't look that way these days. People are suddenly pulling out guns at traffic signals, at toll-nakas, after drunken bouts in discos and in private parties. And then we have this man who completely loses it this Thursday, just because he couldn't stand the sound of construction work in his building.

Anyone can lose self-control during extreme stress. But not everyone starts harming himself/herself or people around. Even when that happens, it usually takes the shape of some kind of physical violence, either in the form of fisticuffs or blunt weapons or sometimes knives, all of which though potentially fatal, do not carry the finality of a gun. Worse, the person holding the gun may have never actually intended to shoot; but a sudden slip of the finger, or change in the emotional state may be all it takes for that little extra pressure on the trigger...and then, boom!

Hardly any other civilized country, except the United States, allows private individuals to own guns. This is perhaps not the forum to debate the pros and cons of gun control in the US. However, as far as India is concerned, given our levels of maturity and self-control, there is no question that there should only be more control over who is allowed to buy and use guns, rather than less. It should be virtually impossible to buy and own a gun. Not only that, I am also convinced that those who own guns should submit to regular psychological evaluation and counseling - if they fail these tests, their guns should be confiscated and this rule should apply even to those who use guns as part of their official duties.

We just can't have 50-year old men with access to guns shooting teenage girls because they've snapped. Period!

Posted by bhavinj at 09:03 AM | Comments (0)

March 12, 2010

We Want Our Own Man's Day

Early this week was Woman's Day. The brouhaha was considerable with everyone and their uncle and aunt trying to woo the woman in an attempt to get her to spend her own or her man's money on whatever and wherever, in whichever manner possible. And the same day and the next few also saw the whole hoopla over reservations for women in parliament.

The idea for this column came from an FB post (thanks Ritu), which is partially reproduced here: "this whole idea of woman's day appears both juvenile and too feminist to me. If there is a woman's day, then we should also have a man's day. My life would be incomplete without all the men in my life..."

It’s no longer easy being a man!

In the (g)olden days, the man went to work, made money, came home, spent some time with the children, had dinner and went to sleep. On weekends, the man went to the club or met up with friends and on Sunday evenings took the family out for dinner or a movie. The woman took care of the house and the children and schoolwork and the man never had to visit his children's school more than once in five years.

Today, the man goes to work, hopefully makes money, often less than the woman, picks up the child(ren) on the way home, checks their homework, waits for the woman to come home, makes his own tea, sometimes even dinner, and often also for the woman, washes dishes if the "bai" has run away, arranges the next day's schedule for the children, drops the child(ren) to school, the next morning and arranges his schedules so that he can attend open day or a PTA meeting in school, sometimes as often as once a week. On weekends, the man cleans the house, visits the woman's relatives and parents, works out ways to keep the children entertained and on Sunday evenings takes the children out for dinner or a movie, since the woman is probably traveling or having her own girls' night out.

In the (g)olden days, the man opened doors and paid the restaurant bills. Today, the man opens doors, but doesn't get thanked, goes to a restaurant with the woman who keeps cribbing about how the woman is still inferior to the man and goes yakety-yak about equal rights and responsibilities, but still ends up paying the bill.

In the (g)olden days, the woman took care of vegetable and fruit purchases. Today, the man actually needs to know how much potatoes, onions, tomatoes, apples, grapes and bananas cost. And if that's not enough, he also needs to be on the ball with sugar, oil and dal prices, almost as if he was a commodities market trader.

We are Generation-Sandwiched. Brought up to be industrious and hard working, we try and emulate our parents' values. On the other hand, we also have to know who freaking Miley Cyrus is and keep up with Wiis, DS's, PSPs, Akons and half-a-dozen other acronymic gadgets and human names that only land up creating deeper fissures in our brains. Our parents knew their respective role; we on the other hand are constantly redefining them!

Which is why we need our own Man's Day, where we can put up our feet, drink beer and watch F1 or cricket or shows like Mad Men or movies like Fast and Furious, on our 75" LCDs.

Or not! The moment she finished reading this, my wife expressed and voiced her utter disbelief with a “Yeah right!” and stormed away.

Posted by bhavinj at 01:26 PM | Comments (0)

March 06, 2010

Is Negative Thinking Always Bad? Think Again!

The last few weeks have seen a spate of suicides among school-going children in our city, the usual reasons touted being the stress of exams and studies coupled with unrealistic expectations from peers and parents and eventually the inability to cope with these pressures.

An interesting article, in a recent issue of the New York Times, penned by Mr. Jonah Lehrer describes a new theory about depression, put forth by a psychiatrist, Andy Thomson and an evolutionary psychologist, Paul Andrews. According to them, occasional bouts of depression that occur following major setbacks such as a death in the family or extreme pressure at school or work, are actually due to a protective mechanism that kicks in spontaneously to help cope with these problems.

The article quotes studies where functional MRI in patients with depression, has shown activation of a part of the pre-frontal cortex whose main role is to help the brain focus intensely on specific thoughts or problems. According to Thomson and Andrews, getting into a funk and spending long hours ruminating and internalizing, actually allows the brain to focus better and to slowly but surely arrive at the correct and appropriate thought-processes that are needed to help bring the person out of the depressive state.

Our seers have also had similar thoughts. Shantanu messaged me this excerpt from Yoga Vashistha, 'There are two types of depression. The first type that results from pining for the things of the world, takes one into a downward spiral to hell. The other type of depression that results from the realization that the external world can never bring lasting happiness, leads to enlightenment. Rejoice O King for your son has the second type of depression’.

Proponents of positive thinking will poo-poo all this. And yet, this so-called “negative thinking”, which is part and parcel of the process of rumination and introspection, is not always undesirable, even though it may take weeks or months to help heal. A counsellor or a psychiatrist with experience and training may be able to speed up this process and help the depressed person navigate his/her problems better, but it is unlikely that drugs will give anything but temporary relief.

What perhaps is an issue with our school-children though is the lack of time and guidance required to cope with the initial bouts of depression and uncertainty. Firstly, the children may not be able to express their feelings and problems and unless parents or teachers pick up warning signs like change in behavior or scholastic performance, they may remain undiagnosed, with potentially terrible consequences. Secondly, if the child does come out with his/her problems and/or the parents or teachers pick up the fact that the child needs help, the solution may still not be forthcoming. It needs aware parents and teachers, willing to make changes in the way they approach the affected child and willing to invest in the time that it takes for the healing to occur. Which then brings us to the third problem. Even if the parents or teachers or counsellors have the time and patience, the external world makes it extremely difficult. The cacophony of stimuli that a child is exposed to these days, willingly or unwillingly, often can prevent any kind of rumination and introspection that would otherwise have been much easier, say 20 years ago.

Slowing down, pulling back and letting things happen on their own, rather than making them happen is often not a bad idea, not just for children, but even for adults, especially when things take a turn for the bad.

Posted by bhavinj at 11:37 AM | Comments (0)

February 26, 2010

Hope: Melanoma, Miracles, Mirages

Amy Harmon is a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist with the New York Times, who writes articles about the "effect of science and technology on American life”.

From Monday to Wednesday earlier this week, the New York Times carried a three-part article written by her, describing the battle between an oncology team and advanced melanoma, a type of skin cancer. It is an amazing write-up on people with metastatic melanoma, the initial failures with a new type of treatment, the sudden and miraculous regression of these tumors, the insidious re-appearance of the nodules and masses after around nine months and then the eventual deaths of many of the patients, all of this strung together by the enthusiasm and relentless efforts of Dr. Keith Flaherty, his team and his colleagues in other institutions. The series explores the complex relationships between the drug industry that is needed to fund the research, the researchers themselves, the oncologists who conduct trials and treat patients, the support staff, melanoma, the cancer in question, the patients and their families.

This article is a must-read for all kinds of people; doctors, cancer victims and their families, scientists and researchers working with drug molecules, pharmaceutical company executives and journalists writing on health-related issues. For the last group, these articles should be an integral part of their training to learn how a health-related story needs to be researched, vetted and written!

One issue that is very striking in Ms. Harmon's series is the extent to which Dr. Flaherty becomes emotionally involved with all his patients. Perhaps this was required so that he could continue to be as enthusiastic as possible to push the treatment through. And perhaps this emotional attachment will help Dr. Flaherty fight hard for the new trials and combination drugs that he wants. But for most doctors and oncologists, this kind of involvement with their patients is extremely difficult and usually comes with the risk of extreme emotional stress.

Most cancers kill. There have been some notable successes in certain kinds of cancers, but for the most part, the statistics are still grim. This also makes medical oncology one of the most depressing branches to be in, since eventually most of the patients die. Therefore, it is necessary for the treating doctors to maintain a certain level of emotional detachment, so that they can maintain their own sanity. Every patient has a story that can tug at the hardest hearts, but at some point all doctors, not just oncologists need to draw a line at the amount of involvement they are willing to accept. This does not mean that doctors should lack in empathy or be callous, but it does mean that a certain amount of distancing is required.

And yet some patients get through to even the most-detached doctors. And so when you meet the 30-something woman, a lymphoma survivor for 15-odd years, with a 3-year old son, now coming with bilateral advanced breast cancer due to the radiotherapy used to cure the lymphoma, you can't but help feel horrible for the rest of the day. Which then only leads to more problems when dealing with the rest of the patients that day, for no fault of theirs.

In the end though, Ms. Harmon's series is about hope. Hope that somehow some form of treatment will cure cancer, that some drug will halt the spread, that one of the drugs in the research pipeline will turn out to be "the" one and that perhaps it will be this particular patient that will beat the odds!

Posted by bhavinj at 05:32 PM | Comments (0)

February 19, 2010

Making A Difference - Changing Lives and Being Changed as Well

When you can make a difference to someone's life, when you can influence peoples' behavior for the better and have the ability to do this repeatedly, it changes you as well. Not too many people in this world can claim to have positively changed the lives of people who are not just their relatives and friends. Sure, doctors do this every day, as do perhaps priests and counselors, but that's part of their regular, daily job. The true challenge and therefore the elation comes when the activity is not just another thing one does daily, but requires a significant adjustment in one’s behavior and routine.

A bunch of medical students realized this last month.

About a month ago, Piramal Healthcare funded a social initiative competition, as part of its "Helpyourbody" campaign. A team of 10 students from each medical college in Mumbai, had to work on a social project in the field of chronic cardiovascular diseases and diabetes. Six teams participated and the projects they did ranged from working with BEST employees, to analyzing the health of police personnel in Zone 1, to conducting health checkups in a BPO and creating an anti-smoking awareness campaign.

Two of the teams stood out. The team from TNMC, the college attached to Nair Hospital, went to 12 schools with the slogan, "Catch 'em young", aiming to educate students in their formative years about the ill effects of poor food habits, smoking, lack of exercise, etc, thereby hoping to positively influence their lifestyles. Their interactive sessions with the students became so popular that they now receive daily calls from parents, teachers and other schools to do similar programs. They reached out to more than 3000 students and through them to around 6000 adults and then topped these with a well-attended cycle rally and then an inter-school competition. The program's success was quite unanticipated and took the medical students completely by surprise. They had never expected that this idea of bringing health issues to school children would snowball into an actual positive movement and make such a significant difference, in the bargain changing their perspectives as well.

The team from LTMMC, the college attached to Sion Hospital, took a more focused approach. It worked on the "Gruhini" concept, the idea being that if the homemakers' health issues were taken care off, they in turn would be able to influence the whole family. They went to Dosti Acres in Wadala and spent 9 evenings with about 300 womenfolk. Through various activities, which included a walkathon, a healthy cooking contest and a health-related treasure hunt, the team members established bonds with the women, which in turn helped them teach the women healthy food habits, proper methods of exercise, correct ergonomics and the ill-effects of stress and chronic diseases, without having to didactically thrust facts and figures down their throats. The overwhelming response made them understand what good social initiatives can achieve, when executed with passion and planning.

I am not sure if the teams have quite understood the significance of what they have achieved; that as medical students they have already made a difference to hundreds of lives and now have the potential to influence many more. I only hope that their efforts don't end with the completion of this contest and that they figure out a way of continuing these initiatives on a sustainable long-term basis.

And hopefully these initiatives will also instill within them an understanding of seeing humans as people rather than patients, thus creating good, empathic and caring doctors.

Tags: Piramal, Helpyourbody, TNMC, LTMMC

Posted by bhavinj at 08:15 PM | Comments (0)

February 05, 2010

The Republic of Karmistan - Day 8, 24

Mr. Anil Kapoor, in Season 8 of the show “24�, plays the role of Mr. Omar Hassan, the President of the Islamic Repubic of Karmistan. In the first five hours (episodes) of the show, while in New York, he has already survived an assassination attempt by his brother who has since vanished, his American mistress has been arrested, mentally tortured and then released, his wife has left him to go back home, he has started a purge against his plotters in Karmistan, and he has recently learnt that his brother is about to buy Uranium 235 from some Russians to make his country go nuclear. The best part is that Mr. Kapoor has gone through all this, uncharacteristically underplaying his role, without his Indian / Middle Eastern English accent sounding too fake.

What is also heartening is that Mr. Kapoor gets 3rd billing in the credits, immediately after Mr. Kiefer Sutherland, who plays Jack Bauer, the main lead and Ms. Mary Lynn Rajskub, whose character Chloe O'Brien, a data analyst with amazing computer but poor emotional skills is probably the best anti-heroine currently on television.

It is a bit sad though that 24 has never been popular in India, considering that it is one of the most tightly directed, action-packed television shows of the last 10 years. Each season is made up of 24, one-hour episodes that chronicle events occurring over the course of one particular day, each episode actually detailing only what happens in those 60 minutes (e.g. 8.00AM-9.00AM).

24 revolves around Jack Bauer, a counter-terrorist agent with nerves of steel, who over the last 7 seasons has always managed to avert major terrorist attacks against the United States, within the time-frame of a day, working with or against the Government, usually with his team, but often alone. He is a modern-day, angst-ridden, "Batman�, who eventually wins against all odds, but unlike Superman, has to rely only on his human abilities to deal with the usual cast of villains that includes terrorists, American super-patriots, the Russian mafia and Mexican drug-dealers.

Despite knowing that he will eventually win, each season has continued to be gripping. My wife and I usually start each season, watching one episode on DVD, every 2-3 days, until by the 10th or 11th episode, the excitement becomes so palpable that we just clear off an entire weekend and then finish-off the balance 12-14 episodes back-to-back, ending up unwashed, bleary-eyed and jelly-brained.

Season 8 promises to be even more interesting with the return of Renee Walker, played by Ms. Annie Wersching, who was fired as an FBI agent at the end of Season 7, but has now turned up as an emotionally drained ex-agent, living completely on the edge, along with the presence of Ms. Katie Sackhoff, who in the past has played Kara Thrace, one of Battlestar Galactica’s most popular characters, BSG arguably being the best sci-fi show ever on television.

I have been lucky that I could catch these 5 episodes while traveling recently. Unfortunately, in India, we have to usually wait for a year or perhaps even more to be able to see shows like 24, Lost or Heroes, on Star World, AXN or Zee English, assuming that they are aired at all, in the first place. My appeal to the English-language Indian channels would be to at least run the current season of 24 right away. Given that President Hassan is a pivotal character with enough episode time, I am sure that Mr. Kapoor’s presence will generate enough viewer interest in India. Is anyone listening?

Tags: 24, Day8, Karmistan, AnilKapoor, JackBauer, KieferSutherland, ChloeO'Brien

Posted by bhavinj at 07:02 PM | Comments (0)

The Future of Books My Friend, Is Only Electronic!

"Bhavinbhai, you are spoilt, man". The "bhai", when sarcastically affixed to a Gujju name, especially by a non-Gujju, reflects a certain state of Gujju being; well-fed and flashy and showy. Chaitanya from Boston used this line to comment on my Facebook status update two days ago. I had written, "Just saw the IPAD specs, etc on the Apple site. Wondering if I should have waited for that, before getting the Kindle. Decisions, decisions..."

To backtrack a little! The Kindle is an e-reader sold by Amazon that has revolutionized the ebook industry. I have been a Kindle user since it was first launched in the winter of 2007. I was in the US at the time, managed to get one delivered to a friend's place and since then, have been using it for almost all my book reading. It's allowed me to read multiple books simultaneously (sometimes upto 10), all over the world, at any time that I feel like, without having to actually physically carry all of them around. I am both an early adopter of technology and I also like to have all my books together in one place. The Kindle is ideal for someone like me!

Sometime last year, the Kindle 2 and DX were launched, but I saw no reason to upgrade. Then Amazon decided to launch the Kindle DX globally. I pre-ordered it on the site and four days after its worldwide launch on 19th Jan, I had it in my hands in Mumbai. It is much larger than the Kindle and this makes reading much easier. More importantly, I can read newspapers quite well on this device (Hindustan Times, Financial and Indian Express are currently available from India) as well as all my scientific pdfs, which form a bulk of my daily reading. The pdfs are extremely well rendered both in portrait and landscape, though only in black and white. There is also a GSM chip in the Kindle DX, which allows me to wirelessly download books, magazines, etc directly from Amazon.

And then Apple yesterday announced the IPad, a tablet that runs the IPhone OS and has IBooks, which will allow us to read books downloaded via ITunes. In color! It's enough to make one mad. Though in all fairness, when I ordered the Kindle DX, it wasn't as if I didn't know that Apple was going to announce some kind of book-reading device.

There is already a lot of stuff that has been written about the IPad in the blogosphere, which is amazing considering that no one outside of Apple has actually used one. There are however significant differences between the IPad and the Kindle and the choice of device will probably depend upon a person’s profile, needs and wants.

Still, in a world that is getting to be more and more monopolistic, it is great to have choices. The Apple / Amazon competition will only make it better for us consumers with respect to book prices, availability and reach.

And for those of you, who are going to get back to me about how the smell of paper and the warmth of a book are irreplaceable, don't! Don't compare until you've actually used the Kindle or the IPad. After that, if you still prefer paper, that's fine! I used to be an avid book collector and now I find that if a book is not available electronically, I perhaps may not want to read it at all. The future is eventually going to be only electronic...the only question is in which form and when!

Tags: Kindle, IPAD, Amazon, Apple, eBook

Posted by bhavinj at 06:49 PM | Comments (0)

January 22, 2010

The Great Marathon Divide and Other Stray Thoughts

1. Mumbai’s class divide: This was never more apparent than when you looked at the people who came out of their houses to cheer us during last week’s marathon.

When running through the middle class area around Lilavati Hospital leading to the Bandra Sealink or along the northern part of Worli Seaface till where it meets Annie Besant Road, there was hardly anyone who had bothered to line up along the roads. However, all along the Seaface as we U-turned southwards, outside all the upmarket buildings along Peddar Road and Babulnath and along the residential parts of Marine Drive, the local residents were out in droves, cheering, egging us along, sometimes full families together, handing out water, biscuits and sweets.

And of all of them, the Peddar road residents rocked! They were the most enthusiastic this year as last year and it felt really good to hear their encouraging shouts and words, especially during the difficult uphill inclines.

I do not want to speculate on the reasons why different localities behave differently, but it seems to have to do with the class of the locality, whether middle or upper and rich. Perhaps our sociologists and psychologists can shed more light on this!

2. Bandra-Worli Sealink: This was a great experience for all us half-marathoners. Running with the sunrise on our left was fantastic. Sure, there was no water available on the Sealink, but this only affected the marathoners who came much later.

3. Electrolytes: There should be more stalls or kiosks along the route, handing out electrolytes. Water was and is never a problem; in fact there is a lot of wastage as runners take one sip and throw half-full bottles on the road. But in the hot sun, when you also need to replace salt and sugar, it would be great to have slightly better access to Electral or similar powders or drinks.

4. Crowd control: Once the elite marathoners started reaching the finish line, the volunteers, policemen and those controlling the crowds seemed to lose interest. All across Marine Drive upto the finish line at CST, visitors and perhaps tourists, would often walk onto the road, coming in our way and making us break our stride. For those of you who somehow find the pavements of Marine Drive too small to walk on, please do this during peak traffic on working days!

5. Commentators: We can really do without idiot runners like the full-marathoner, who looked across at a 60-plus-year old woman running the half-marathon next to me and said "Aunty, this is a running race, not a walking race!" Go @7&# yourself!

6. The Drudge kilometers: For half-marathoners, the drudgery starts once you take the left from Babulnath onto Chowpatty, past Wilson college, with only 4-5 kms left. It is hot, the road is hard and your mind starts telling you that it’s not really worth the effort. This is the time when we need the most encouragement and cheering and unfortunately, once you are past the Girgaum Chowpatty junction, there is nobody on the road all the way upto the end of the Gymkhanas. This stretch is really, really, really, the toughest!

Having said all this, this year’s run was far more enjoyable than last year’s, despite being 20 minutes slower. I ran/walked, stopped if something interesting was going on, took great photographs on the Sealink, didn't freeze up at the end of the run and had no injuries. All of which is enough incentive to run next year as well!

Tags: MumbaiMarathon

Posted by bhavinj at 08:25 PM | Comments (0)

January 15, 2010

Registered for Tomorrow's Marathon? Dropping Out Because You're Unprepared? Think Again!

This is for all those, who like me, registered very enthusiastically for the half-marathon/marathon in July and were already training or had started doing so in earnest, but have since, for a variety of reasons, not been able to get into adequate shape and are now not too confident of running or are thinking of dropping out and doing a no-show tomorrow. It is for all of us who can't help but get irritated by all those stupid feel-good articles about the event, where previous runners, or the "oldest" or the "youngest" or the "100 marathon" participants are being profiled in an attempt to generate a positive buzz about the race, but which only serve to depress us further.

I started this column in December 2008, with a piece, titled "What I write about, when I write about running". I had touched upon my motivation for running and had written. "I've started focusing on the anger; on the terrorists, on the events, on the enemy. This helps pump up the adrenaline and endorphins...". This time unfortunately, there is no such "greater" motivation.

Then in May, when I started my training schedule, I wrote a piece, called "130 days", for the number of days left for the marathon. In some kind of runner's euphoria, I had actually come up with these words, "And yet in the end, it comes down to just one elemental issue. The simple act of running! Putting on a pair of shoes, with shorts or a track-suit and a T-shirt, without any fancy equipment, getting out into the open, either in a garden of sports track or on the road and pounding the ground, one foot after another, on and on, emptying your mind of all unnecessary thought, zen-like, focusing on just one goal; running." Currently, the mind that stringed this together, is a complete stranger to me!
 
And then somewhere in September/October, it all collapsed like Port-au-Prince did two days ago. There was no time to run or train. The few times I was able to shoe-up, only drove home the fact that I was out of shape and in no condition to run a targeted 2 1/2 hour half-marathon. By early-December, I had mentally decided to forego this one, simply because it made no sense at all to run without adequate training and without some kind of timing goal.

But then two things happened. The first was the announcement that we would get to run over the Bandra SeaLink. The second was a realization after speaking to some friends, that I needn't run with a purpose...I could just stay at the back of the pack, and enjoy myself, partly running, partly walking, and have a good time! The last time, I had taken the race too seriously…perhaps this time I could go there and have some fun!

Once I had filtered this idea through both, my right and left-brains, it just began to make a lot of sense. Even with a slow run/walk, you can usually finish the course in reasonable time. Moreover, what is the certainty that the Sealink will be a permanent fixture of the course next year as well? What if this is a one-time chance to walk/run on it? Would you want to miss that?

In the last few days, I have successfully sold this logic to a few of my friends who, like me, had decided to opt out, but have now decided to show up, just for the heck of it.

And as for the serious running...there's always next year.

Tags: MumbaiMarathon

Posted by bhavinj at 08:09 PM | Comments (0)

January 08, 2010

Smart and Brainy = "Good" Doctor! Yeah Right!

The stultifying stupefying status of our education system is suddenly being talked about with renewed vigor, thanks to “3 Idiots�.
 
It’s not just that teachers don’t inspire. Students hardly ever ask questions and usually behave like zombies, few parents create a conducive, questioning environment at home and job-givers are rarely enthused by non-conforming job applicants. We are all equally to blame and in this collective satisfaction that no single individual or institution can be brought to task, no real change happens. The few “different� and successful experiments unfortunately only prove the rule.

This is why we have so many anomalies, for example, with doctors and medicine. Being a doctor is not really about how much you can rattle out about anatomy, pathology, medicines, surgical procedures, etc, but is more about the ability to apply this knowledge in real life, on real human beings, using all these facts to make daily judgment calls, adapting this knowledge to the individual patient in front of us, with the utmost empathy and concern, in an attempt to do as much good as possible and as little harm. And so, though knowledge is important, more important is the ability to take correct action in as caring a manner as possible.

It is this discrepancy between “brains� and “good doctors� that is responsible for this 2 x 2 grid.
1. Academically brilliant/good and a good doctor
2. Academically brilliant/good and a poor doctor
3. Academically average/poor and a good doctor
4. Academically average/poor and a poor doctor

Those who are in Group 1 are obviously the "great" doctors. They know a lot and they are able to use this knowledge for the benefit of their patients. But those in Group 3 also don’t fall short, because they have enough common sense and street smarts to be able to provide above-average care. They know where to look for and who to ask for help when they are stuck, and most importantly, they know what they don’t know.

Those in Group 4 are obviously complete disasters. But there are also a good number of doctors, who fall into Group 2, who can rattle out pages from Gray's Anatomy and Harrison’s Textbook of Internal Medicine, but somehow have no clue how to translate these facts into meaningful "care" for their patients.

In an ideal world, where learning medicine would essentially mean learning how to care, there would only be "good� doctors. There is precious little connection between the ability to mug and retain information, and caring for and treating people. The former is what we find and need in researchers and scientists; the latter is what is important in doctors. And yet, we continue to believe that if someone has come first in the XIIth standard, or has a gold medal in Anatomy or Physiology, that this person will make a great doctor some day as well. How getting 100/100 in Physics, Chemistry and Biology, teaches someone the skill-sets to be a superlative "care-giver", is something I find great difficulty digesting.

Today, fortunately, even keeping all those facts and figures in our brains is no longer relevant; most information is easily available with a few clicks of a mouse and as long as we know what to look for and where, that’s good enough. What we can’t learn however from Googling, is how to apply all this knowledge to practical problems and situations, which is where great teachers and equally inquisitive students make all the difference.

The greatest doctors in this world have rarely been the brainiest.

Tags: 3Idiots, Doctor, Medicine

Posted by bhavinj at 05:37 PM | Comments (0)

January 01, 2010

Simple, Healthy New Year Resolutions

Ring-a Ring-a roses
Pocket full of poses
Husha, busha
All fall down

This ditty and the game are an integral part of growing up. As part of an urban legend, many also believe that this refers to the Great Plague of London of 1665, a time when people used to fall down (die) sneezing.

Assuming it to be true, and I know that this is very depressing for the first piece of 2010, this little poem quite aptly captures the current plague of stress in our lives; first Mr. Ranjan Das of SAP and now Mr. Ravimohan of Reliance - here yesterday and then gone tomorrow; poof, just like that!

And like them, we have a large number of high-performing, type A individuals in our city, working 18-20 hours a day, 6-7 days a week, sleeping 4-5 hours, multi-tasking, traveling 10-15 days a month, drinking after work and sometimes during work, along with power naps, power lunches, power vacations, wedded to the laptop and/or the Blackberry, and constantly bothered about numbers, toplines, EBITDAs, governance and the next quarter.

Stress like this kills...

This problem is all-pervasive. While we are all gung-ho about our country’s projected growth rate over the next decade, we also have the dubious distinction of being high achievers with respect to diabetes, hypertension and similar chronic diseases, across all levels of society. Young aspiring achievers, middle managers, professionals...each and everyone seems to be falling prey to the "work hard, party hard, sleep less" syndrome.

And so perhaps the only New Year resolution that many of us should make is to “slow down, pull back and sleep moreâ€�.  Here’s my list of related simple resolutions.

Simple (in no particular order)
1. Eat only as much as needed.
2. Don't smoke.
3. Exercise - any amount is fine, even half an hour a week, though more is better.
4. Sleep - a minimum of 7 hours.
5. If you must drink, then do so with moderation. Don't get drunk. Don't eat fried food with the alcohol. Don't drink and drive.

Simple, but needs a shade extra effort.
1. Spend time with family.
2. Take breaks.
3. Try not to lose your temper - there is a difference between controlled anger and just completely losing it.
4. Meditate
5. Have sensible working hours. The French work 35 hours a week and still manage to be productive.
6. Give time to old friends.

And, if you need, there is enough help out there, in the form of social movements such as HelpYourBody (www.helpyourbody.in), which is trying to raise awareness about these health issues, hoping eventually to make our workplaces and us, healthier and less stressful. But eventually, it’s still our responsibility.  Granted that we may not have much control over the occurrence of accidents and cancer, but there is still a lot we can do to take care of our physical and mental health.

Being healthy is not just about not being sick or dying. It is also about being well enough so that when we grow old, we do so without too much disability and without ending up being burdens to our children and society.

If we want to live and die with grace, we need to live healthily. Now!

Tags: NewYearResolutions

Posted by bhavinj at 07:05 PM | Comments (0)

December 26, 2009

A Year of Friday 8PM Deadlines

I am not used to weekly deadlines. And so, the 8.00PM Friday one, which is the time by which I have to turn in my piece for this column, has become an interesting milestone that I have to abide by, and one that now affects quite significantly the way in which I spend most of my Friday afternoons and evenings.

And so, for the past one year, starting from the first piece that was published on 27 Dec, 2008, irrespective of where in the world I am, I have usually managed to send in my 600 words by around 7.00PM. And except for one week in March, when someone forgot to publish the column, each Saturday morning, unfailingly, has seen my vertical, one-column, top-to-bottom piece with my caricatured visage, appearing somewhere between pages 6 to 12 of this newspaper.

Trying to beat the deadline has led to ridiculous situations like the time I typed out a piece while being driven in a rickety cab from the hotel to the airport in Kolkata, praying that my laptop battery would not die; I had a similar prayer on my lips last week when a flight to Kolkata was delayed by 90 minutes and I had to finish my piece in exactly that much time, with just enough battery juice left and no power connector on the airplane. Looking back, I've realized that my travel and the pieces seem to be intricately connected; I've pounded my Macbook Pro first and now the Air, in Patna, Hyderabad, Kochi, Indore and Delhi as well as in Vienna, London, Zurich, Geneva, Orlando and Frankfurt. It is thanks to the marvel of the Internet that it really doesn't matter where I am, as long as I can get connected for enough time to shoot off one email, but which also means that wherever I go, I have to carry a laptop along, which is one of the curses of today’s tech-suffused world.

So why all this today? Because, the words that you are reading right now, mark the start of my 2nd year with the Mirror. I consider myself extremely lucky and fortunate to be able to write a blog-like newspaper column. I started www.manfrommatunga.com in 1999. Then came the Matunga pieces in "Writer's Bloc", a series that started with the paper’s birth, but then died after 3 years. Much later, after some persistent prodding, Meenal let me have this column. It's interesting; I am neither famous, nor a celebrity, nor a political pundit or a certified critic. And yet, here I am, thanks to her, able to expound on everything from Matunga issues to books, films, restaurants, food, technology and its social impact, my 9-year old twins and their problems, small issues with life in Mumbai, airline and travel incidents, and sometimes, just "nothing".

It used to take a long time initially to put the 600 words together. But with one year's practice under the belt, it has become easier with each passing week. Many friends (thanks Anand) want my writing to be more responsible and relevant; hopefully I will get there over time.

I know that today's piece is all about I, me and myself! But I guess, I am allowed this liberty today. I'd like to thank all the people at Mumbai Mirror who've helped me along the way; friends and family who've given honest feedback and criticism; Facebook pals, who've not hesitated to dissect my words when required; and all you readers, who've always come back with interesting feedback.

Here's looking forward to another interesting year.

Tags: MumbaiMirror, Deadlines

Posted by bhavinj at 04:19 AM | Comments (0)

December 18, 2009

Stupid is as Stupid Does: Speeding, Rage and Idiotic Driving

The last two weeks have seen all of the above, singly or in combination hitting the headlines. Someone burning with road rage, overtook a car near the airport dragged the driver to the car, drove off with him, then dropped him, in the process running over him and killing him. Speeding cars on the Sealink collided with each other and resulted in fatalities. Another car idiotically made an illegal U-turn on the Sealink and was run into by another car coming from the opposite direction.

All of us at some point or the other have probably succumbed to one of these three deadly sins.

Road rage is perhaps the most difficult to handle, especially when young. The older you get though, the more willing you are to let others have the right of way. When I was younger, if anyone were to cut in front of me or overtake illegally, I would completely lose it. The first reaction invariably would be to try and overtake the person and then bad-mouth him. At times, I would get in front and then slow down or brake hard. Often, the overwhelming emotion would be to anyhow hurt the person. Today, though older and a shade more restrained, I still have to sometimes make a conscious effort to control myself. Road rage is stupid and has bad consequences both for the person who is affected and also the person against whom it is directed. Both lose, especially the person who is raging...there are always physical and emotional consequences of such a heightened animalistic, “flight-or-fight� response.

Speeding is stupid as well, and also difficult to control, when young, given its endorphin releasing, positive drug-like kick.  I still remember the first time I hit the Expressway in my Honda City and then kept the accelerator pressed all the way to Lonavla, without any hindrance.  In the city of course, it's very difficult to speed and trying to do so during the day only leads to a jerky, brake-race-brake experience. But sometimes in the early mornings or late at night, you can still find some stretches that are safe and empty of all kinds of traffic, and then it gets really difficult to resist ripping through.

When I look back the stupid things we did when young, I shudder and hope that I will be able to prevent my kids from doing the same things. Races on the Worli Sea-Face road at night, Sion to the Taj in 12 1/2 minutes at 2.00AM in the morning, Mumbai to Mahabaleshwar in 3 hours on the National Express Highway...jeez! At that age, the consequences of something going wrong are not even on one's horizon and it is only when you grow older and have a family and other people dependant on you, does the extent of this stupidity finally dawn!

Idiotic driving however takes the cake and perhaps is one reason why others get road rage! What do you do with a person who suddenly brakes to take a right or "U-turn", without giving a signal and forces you to brake hard, to avoid hitting him? What is your response when someone drives bang in the middle of a two-lane road, not letting anyone pass by on either side? How do you react when someone tailgates you and then cuts in front of you without warning, or goes suddenly from left to right or right to left forcing you to react evasively?

Road age, speeding and idiotic driving! All interconnected! All difficult to control! And, all potentially fatal!

Tags: roadrage, Sealink,

Posted by bhavinj at 06:36 PM | Comments (0)

December 11, 2009

Entitlement - Does it Begin With Schools?

Last week's piece on "entitlement" evoked quite a response. Since Facebook allows more interactive communication, a very interesting thread developed around this.

Sharada, from the US, immediately wrote "be generous with your time with them; demonstrate empathy and charity; keep your own head on your shoulders; live in a neighborhood that does not scream money ... and hope for the best" and followed this up with "if kids have free access to your time and attention (as opposed to materialistic things) THAT is what they should feel entitled to...or am I being naive?"

Anil, who too lives in the US, then penned down his "A Dozen Rules For Successful (Sociological) Parenting". The first rule was "Buy a house in the best feasible school district (public schools) you can afford (and when your child is of school-going age, send him/her to a public school)." I immediately wrote back saying that this was irrelevant in India, especially in Mumbai.

For those who may not know, in the US and in many parts of the Western world, children are entitled to free school education in the specific district that they live in. This right comes from the fact that all residents of that particular district pay taxes towards the public school in that district. Typically then, a public school will have a variety of students cutting across all social classes, which partly of course is dependent on the composition of the school district's residents. Most people send their children to public schools and often people choose their homes based on the reputation of the schools in specific areas. Private schools also exist, but are horrendously expensive. Of course, the richer you are, the greater the chance that your children would go to a private school.

In our country, the equivalent of a US public school would perhaps be a Government- aided private school. Unlike in the US, being a resident of the area where the school is located does not automatically guarantee admission into that school. Nevertheless, the majority of students are usually from the surrounding area. For e.g. Don Bosco and other similar schools in Matunga, are Government aided, quite affordable for the middle and upper classes and by and large service children from Matunga and the surrounding central suburbs.

Anil, answering my "irrelevant" note, wrote back in the context of public schools, "While this may seem irrelevant, the principle is not - what it means is - give your child the best education (best -academically, socially, culturally) you can afford - stretch your money, sacrifice some other things if you need to, for a while." and Sharada chimed in with "even if there aren't good public (govt. funded) school districts in Mumbai.... send your kids to a school that you think best fits your ideology and still meets their needs - not necessarily the priciest school .... also, when you don't live in a pricey neighborhood, there's less peer pressure on you and on the kids."

If you've haven't already figured out where this is all going, then here it is. Does sending your children to a middle-class, Government-aided school like Don Bosco, St. Joseph's, J B Vachha, etc allow your kids to be more grounded in reality, given that the students come from a significant spectrum of society, as against sending them to expensive, private schools, where given the intense peer pressure to conform, they all learn to be "entitled" that much earlier in life? Or in a similar vein…should your children travel to school in school buses or be chauffeur-driven in style?

Tags: Entitlement, Schools

Posted by bhavinj at 05:52 PM | Comments (0)

December 05, 2009

Entitlement and The New Rules of Parenting

Two weeks ago, I wrote about the DYKWIA syndrome; people who keep going around shouting "Do you know who I am?", especially when they seem to be ignored or poorly served, trying to throw their weight around in an attempt to get ahead of others next to them, to get better and superior service.

There were quite a few interesting comments that readers came up with as responses to this question.

"I'm sorry, but is there a problem? Do you need help to find out who you are?"
or
"From your behavior, I definitely know who you are. If only you knew that as well."
or
"Do you want me to ask your mother"?

All of this of course sounds a little funny and trite at present, but a recent quick trip abroad, brought this into significant focus. Among the various reasons that one can think of for people behaving like DWKWIAs, is the fact that they often feel "entitled". Entitlement implies a state where an individual truly believes that he or she is God's gift to mankind and needs to be treated in a special manner, with kid gloves, on an elevated pedestal.

It is this entitlement that plagues families that are very successful and have money that will last over multiple lifetimes. The subsequent generations often do not understand the value of the hard work that went into creating this success and grow up believing that this is a natural entitlement. They have everything they could ever need and are so privileged compared to the rest of the world, that they actually believe that they belong to the “homo superior� tribe.

The affliction of entitlement is also often seen in self-made individuals, specifically in those who have made it very big and very rich, very fast, especially if they have come from extremely underprivileged backgrounds with no yardsticks of middle-class behavior for comparison. They then try and emulate the other entitled people around them with disastrous results.

And then is the last group of the "powerful" that includes ministers, CEOs of large companies, and even celebrities, who also start believing that they are truly special as compared to the other “ordinary� people around them.
 
Many of us are not as rich and powerful, but still belong to the middle and upper middle classes that given the poor circumstances that 80% of the world finds itself in, can still lead to a sense of entitlement, whether in India or abroad. And how to prevent our children from picking up even small slices of the "entitlement pie" can be quite a challenge.

This is a question that I discussed constantly for the last 5 days during a whirlwind trip through the US, with at least four sets of friends, all of whom are highly successful professionals, but with strong middle-class Indian backgrounds, now at the peak of their careers with plush houses and good money. One of the risks in such situations, is that the children start believing that their current lifestyle is routine; access to toys, computers, televisions, comfortable trips abroad, occasional business class travel, etc. The constant struggle then is to make sure that they learn that none of this is an entitlement, that it doesn't come free and needs a lot of hard work to attain.

This feeling of entitlement, especially in children, can also often lead to reduced motivation and a lack of "fire-in-the-belly", which given our competitive world can actually then turn out to be quite a disadvantage.
 
How do you’ll deal with these issues?

Tags: DYKWIA, entitlement

Posted by bhavinj at 09:45 AM | Comments (0)

November 28, 2009

We are like that only...or are we?

Today, as I write this, is the 26/11 "day". There has been a gradual media build-up over the last week, culminating in today's intense newspaper focus. I presume this is true of the television networks as well, but I no longer bother watching. The print media is full of interviews, post-mortems, analyses, etc, among which, are a few articles comparing the "then and now" scenarios. How then a lot of us were angry, motivated and ready for action. And how now, all of that seems to have dissipated.

I have taken this little time off in the middle of my working day to think and introspect. The door is shut with "do not disturb" orders, the cell phone is offline and the landline is off the hook.

I was in Barcelona that day. I woke up at midnight to go to the loo and saw the smoking Taj on CNN on an in-loo television set. I called home and got the rest of the story. Though the company had decided to let its employees take the day off, we proudly kept all our set-ups open; there was seething anger and this was our way of answering the terrorists back and not letting terrorism win and cow us down.

I didn't join any group or cause. Though, I didn't know anyone directly who had died, we all knew someone who had lost a friend or family; during those days, most of us would have willingly given an arm and a leg to help and change things. Most people I knew were angry, especially at the politicians but more at the "system' itself.

A month later, a British friend wanted to see the "sites" and we took him to see Leopold and the Taj. These areas were teeming with tourists.

Then came the elections, where even though some candidates tried to capitalize on this incident, nothing much really happened. Voting rates were pathetic. I didn't vote as well.

And life went on.

A grueling 12 hour daily schedule, the commute, the social responsibilities, the kids, meetings, conferences, domestic and international travels...all of these eventually pushed all the November angst aside. The media in the meantime moved on to other issues as well; swine flu, elections, Koda and Shilpa Shetty's wedding.

The only reminders were the irritants; the inability to use Arthur Road because of Kasab's trial and the added security at the hotels.

Today’s newspaper coverage has brought back a little of that November angst, but it is highly muted. The blatant use of this occasion for self-promotion hasn’t helped the cause much. And the mudslinging among the police officers as well as between them and the politicians, which seems to have reached a crescendo today, has just made things worse. And I know that I am not the sole person in the city thinking along these lines… in fact, most people I know seem to be in the same boat as me.

Does that make us insensitive boors? Are we self-centered, insular creatures? Is this a typical Mumbai problem, or is this what happens universally, after events as shocking as these? During those rare moments where I am able to be with myself, without being disturbed by people, phones and email, I wonder...are our daily lives so filled with tasks that we forget to feel and act on those feelings? What is right? What should we be doing? Was a world without a "to do list" and where the word “multitasking� didn’t exist, a better one for empathy and caring?

I don't know. Do you?

Tags: 26/11MumbaiTerror

Posted by bhavinj at 07:23 AM | Comments (0)

November 20, 2009

Do You Know Who I Am!

Last Saturday, flying my favorite blue and yellow airline to Delhi, I was lucky to get an upgrade. I stretched my legs in the first row, in an attempt to sleep through the take-off and hopefully for a little while longer. I must have fallen asleep when suddenly I was woken up by a loud voice cutting across the cabin. When I looked back, it was some "politician-type" in white and white, shouting at one of the stewards. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he kept repeating one sentence over and over again. “Do you know who I am?" The steward and the supervisor were unable to calm him, but he finally ran out of steam and stopped shouting. Then in a loud voice, he proclaimed to no one in particular, "You have to teach these people". During the lunch service, I asked the supervisor what the issue was. Apparently, the "white and white" wanted a non-vegetarian meal. By the time the steward reached him, all the non-vegetarian meals had already been ordered and there was nothing left for him. Therefore, he lost it. Over a measly plate of food! I asked the supervisor, whether she knew who he was. She said "no".

Obviously. If someone has to shout, "Do you know who I am!", it is almost certain that the person being asked this question doesn’t have a clue! If you are the type of person who needs to utter this sentence, i.e. if you are a DYKWIA, then rest assured, you are definitely not worth it.

There is a great piece on this subject by Stanley Bing, who pens a column on the last page of Fortune magazine. This has always remained stuck at the back of my mind and I promised myself then, that some day I would write about this. If you read that piece and find some borrowed ideas here, that would be because I completely agree with him.

The DYKWIA who says, "Do you know who I am?" or the more colloquial "Saala, tum jaante nahin main kaun hoon?� screws up the situation for everyone, including himself/herself. Since only insecure and self-important puffed-up shirts say this, the moment this sentence is uttered, the people around have already sized up this DYKWIA for what he/she is. The person being told off obviously does not know who the DYKWIA is and then gets badly stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. He could say "No, I really don't" and figuratively kill the idiot, but at the risk of getting into some trouble if the DYKWIA escalates this; or he could try and accommodate the DYKWIA, usually over someone else's head and then risk the ire of that third person who is being passed over. Which means that if the DYKWIA actually gets what he/she is shouting for, the others around the DYKWIA will also make a noise.

Either way, no one really wins.

Imagine if the steward or supervisor had requested someone in the first two rows to give up a non-vegetarian meal in favor of the "white and white". Someone in the sixth row could have then created a ruckus. This just doesn't work.

I still think though that the best response to this question, even at the risk of losing one's job or possible repercussions, should be, "I am sorry, I don’t. Can you please educate me?". Ninety-nine percent of the times, the DYKWIA will be some inconsequential insect. You can take a chance on the other one percent.

Tags: DYKWIA, StanleyBing

Posted by bhavinj at 08:10 PM | Comments (0)

November 13, 2009

Maximum Reaction in a Maximum City

When did we all become like this? Jittery, unsure, scared, afraid?

On Wednesday, the weather guys said that there could be a possible problem with cyclone Phyan. The BMC immediately went into overdrive with their advisory. Consequently, schools were let off early. Offices shut down in the mid-afternoon. By evening, literally and figuratively, parts of Mumbai looked like ghost-towns; dull, dreary, wet, grey and empty.

During the just-ended Monsoons, such knee-jerk reactions were not uncommon. The moment there was some extra rain and flooding, panic-buttons would be pressed and schools and colleges would shut down and people at work would want to rush home immediately. Television channels would start shouting and talk of how "Mumbai has again gone down-under" and show stock-shots of swirling water in one of the flood-prone areas of the city.

Is this what one July 26th has done to us? We have forgotten that for decades, parts of Mumbai have always flooded, depending on the rains and the tide situation? That once every Monsoon, the city will shut down, irrespective of whatever precautions we have taken and our level of preparedness? That getting stuck and having plan Bs in place to deal with the situation has always been a part of life during the rainy season?

And now? We see 1 cm of rain on the streets and everyone wants to run home!

In the olden days, when there was a "flu" epidemic, people fell sick. They tucked into bed, took leave for a week or two, went to their GPs and life went on. They didn't go around looking ridiculous, wearing masks that were of no use at all, avoiding anyone who had the slightest fever and jumping away the moment someone sneezed. Authorities didn't en masse shut shopping centres and schools and create ridiculous questionnaires at airports, which in any case you could bluff your way through.

When did all of our responses become knee-jerk and asinine?

Like after one person puts a bomb in his shoe, countries like the US penalize millions and millions of passengers by making them remove their shoes each time they have to get onto a plane!

Like after some people try to create bombs from liquids, we suddenly stop everyone from carrying anything more than 100ml of fluid and mothers with infants are made to pour away all their milk!

Like after one November 26th, all our hotels start looking like fortresses! As if, this would seriously stop someone who was really determined to go after one of these hotels!

All around us we see this! Over-reaction to everything! Someone cuts in front of us, we fly into a rage and want to bludgeon the person to death. Someone blocks our building gate and we deflate his tyres or scratch his car doors. Someone uses the word "Bombay" instead of "Mumbai" and some sections of the city start raging. Someone's strap breaks during a fashion show and all hell breaks loose!

The fabric of the city has changed. We used to be more balanced and reasonable with far more common sense. We were much less flappable. Today, it doesn't take much to unbalance us, to scare us and to stress us out. We no longer seem to be in control of our lives; everything now seems to be about reacting to events, rather than taking control of the events themselves. And it is from here that the intolerance, the rage and the maximum insecurity that is now tearing the city apart, starts!

The worst part? I don't think this process is stoppable.

Posted by bhavinj at 10:16 PM | Comments (0)

November 06, 2009

Service Follow-Ups

Following the two consecutive pieces that I wrote related to problems with service-oriented companies, early this week, Sanjay started a thread on his blog to describe his travails with a particular brand of router and the local service partner...he went through a lot of angst, but it thankfully finally ended well. 

People are not perfect. And despite whatever Six Sigma may say, systems are not perfect, simply because they are run by people. Things can go wrong in the best of places and situations, but what distinguishes an average company from a great one, is the way in which it handles problems when they arise and when things go awry and wrong. 

Just to recap. Two weeks ago, I ranted about my problems getting credible answers from the dealer and the parent company regarding the delivery status of the Nano. Then last week, I penned a "tongue-in-cheek" piece about the poor service in a prime Goan hotel, where I ascribed the service issues to Goan "sossegado".  

Here are the follow-ups! 

At 11.00AM on the Saturday that the "nano" piece was published, the same junior executive who I had fought with before, left a voice-mail on my cell telling me that the car had already come and would be ready for delivery as soon as some paper-work formalities were completed. Eventually the car came home this Monday. The problem is that I had never asked for an "out-of-turn" allotment of the car. All I had wanted was for someone in the dealership or the parent company to address the late-delivery issue and to give an intelligent explanation without stonewalling, with some idea of the expected delivery date. In the end, even though I have my sunshine yellow Nano, the taste in my mouth is still bitter. No one has yet called to answer the questions that I had raised! 

In the meantime, I had also sent a link to my "sossegado" article, to the customer service department of the hotel chain that had given us poor service in Goa. Within 48 hours, a senior-level customer service manager emailed me, apologizing profusely. She was quite clear, as many of my friends and readers had been as well, that "sossegado" or not, the service levels of any hotel chain, whether in Goa or Mumbai or New York, should be the same. She assured me that the group was serious about solving the problems that I had enumerated and even though I had not asked for any compensation, she added a few points to the hotel chain's loyalty card! 

My family feels that I am too picky, while I believe that most of us are actually too docile. For a variety of reasons, the majority of us take too many things lying down, perhaps because we have been used to such atrocious levels of service for so many decades, that people of my generation and those older have probably developed a thick-enough skin. So whether it is the terrible service that I occasionally encounter at a leading Central Mumbai five-star hotel or with the black and yellow cabs or when dealing with cellphone companies...unless we make a noise, service providers will keep thinking that they can get away with rubbish! 

And yet, there are examples of exemplary service, even in India. Ask yourself why Jet Gold or Platinum members seldom fly any another airline! 

And it definitely shouldn't take a newspaper column to make a company sit up and take some action! A phone call or an email should be given equal importance.

Tags: Service, Hyatt, Nano, Tata

Posted by bhavinj at 07:40 PM | Comments (0)

October 30, 2009

Sossegado

We took a family vacation to Goa during the last Diwali weekend and were booked to stay in a premier property belonging to one of the major multinational chains.

Even though we go to Goa for a family vacation at least once every three years or so and what happened during this trip is probably the norm each time, I presume I found it difficult initially, simply because it is my perspective and not Goa's that seems to have changed.

Over the last few years, my expectations from hotels and restaurants have risen considerably. Spiffy, quick, polite, courteous, on-the-dot, willing to make amends immediately...these are things that we can get used to so easily that we start expecting the same level of service everywhere...

Including Goa...

Which was probably a huge mistake!

When we reached the hotel, the staff was as friendly and courteous as expected and remained so throughout the stay. But by the evening of the first day, I was angry and upset because of their level of service delivery.

To start. On the first day, during dinner, the wine bottle came pretty much after half the meal was over. On the 2nd day, during breakfast, the tea and coffee came when we had almost finished. In the evening, the 2nd round of naans did not come for at least 15 minutes, by which time the rest of the food had become cold. The next day for breakfast, the toasts came after the omelet had already been eaten and later during dinner, they were unable to locate the half-drunk wine bottle that I had kept back in the hotel's wine cellar.

And then. The hotel, for internal transportation, had provided buggies, which were quite a boon for my in-laws, especially since our rooms were quite a distance away from the restaurants and the swimming pool. Once in a while, a buggy would actually come the moment we called for it, but the majority of times, the wait was at least 15-20 minutes and sometimes the buggy would just not land up, usually because of some logistical screw-up. Invariably therefore, planned schedules would just go completely haywire.

So is this one more rant that perhaps has become a regular feature in this column these days? Well, on the first day, I was almost ready at night to offload all my angst on the hotel manager. Luckily, I was too tired and went to sleep. On the second day, when the toasts came after the omelet, I said, "screw it!" On the third day, I could care less whether the naans came late, or that they couldn't locate the wine bottle.

In reality, by the middle of the 2nd day, I had stopped bothering about any kind of schedule...once you don't really have to get back to something or need to be on time or in time for everything, it doesn't matter if the buggy is late, or the food order is inverted or if the waiter just takes too long.

When in Romans, do as Romans do.

If Goans are laid-back, the hotel chain cannot change the basic attitude of the staff and make it behave like the staff in Mumbai. And though everyone was always nice and courteous and smiling, they were all just marching to a different beat. And, what I had to learn was to march on their beat and not mine, and to leave my multi-tasking, anal-obsessed, time-controlled life behind.

In effect, I had to learn the concept of "sossegado".

Which of course, only lasted till I landed back in Mumbai...but so what!

Tags: Sossegao, Goa

Posted by bhavinj at 08:15 PM | Comments (0)

October 23, 2009

The Times They Are A-Changing...But Perhaps Not That Much

Aka - Tata Nano or "Nono"

On the 1st of May, early this year, I had written a piece about the Tata Nano being a herald of changing times. I had raved about the great experience that I had had on the website where I was able not only to choose the model and color, but also to book and pay, all in the comfort of my home, without actually needing to go to a dealership or the company.

The first car deliveries eventually happened sometime in July, accompanied by a lot of media buzz and fanfare. There have even been follow-up stories of the Nano creating a buzz wherever it is seen.

I still haven't seen one!

Once the allotments were announced, I thought I was lucky to receive a delivery date that fell between 16 August and 30 September. My office called Concorde Motors, the dealership, around 16 August, only to be told that there was no need to call and that they would let us know as soon as the car was ready for delivery.

And so I waited. And waited. And I am still waiting.

My office finally called Concorde Motors on 01 October, only to be told that the car would be delivered after about 15 days. When my secretary called again on 16 October, she was told that there would be a further delay. When she asked for a firm commitment, she was brushed off. I then personally tried to get more information, but when I called and asked for something more tangible, there was no proper reply. When I then asked to speak to someone who had more authority than the sales executive who I was speaking with, I was given the run-around. One thing led to another and then understandably I lost my temper and regrettably used the “f� word. When I threatened to cancel my booking, I was told that I could very well go ahead and do so!

I now really regret the decision to book the Nano; at that time, I was caught up in the excitement and hype around the car, but today, neither the company nor its dealer is able to even give a delivery schedule, forget being in touch with their customers proactively. I even called the Nano helpline and though the call-centre person was very polite, he had no answers, except to say that deliveries were delayed.

The least that I would have expected as a customer, is a call from Concorde / Tata Motors, first on 01 October and then on 16th October, with an apology for the delay and with new timelines and explanations. Schedules in this country can always go haywire, but as long as the customers are kept in the loop, expectations and emotions can be managed. Instead, as far as the Nano is concerned, the onus seems to be entirely on the customer to figure out the status of the deliveries and even then, there are no proper answers.

The current situation reminds me of the frustration of flying Indian Airlines in the past, when it would delay or cancel a flight without any explanation or alternatives. Today, while Indian, as it is now called, has improved considerably, the makers of the Nano and the dealers seem to have regressed to the level of the erstwhile Premier Automobiles.

I am trying to find answers for this attitude; maybe the dealers make small margins or maybe the company thinks that those who buy cheap cars should also be treated cheaply.
 
I don't know, but it's just so sad!

Tags: TataNano, TataMotors, ConcordeMotors

Posted by bhavinj at 07:22 PM | Comments (0)

October 17, 2009

Hardship Allowance for Living in Mumbai? Really?

Sometime back, I met someone from the UK, who had been sent to India by his company, to start a local branch. He was living in a 2500 square feet apartment on Altamount Road, while his office was in Nariman Point. He had an E-class Mercedes, with an English-speaking chauffeur, along with a cook, a cleaning maid and a manservant. He enjoyed a 5-days week and was also eligible for two paid holidays to the UK along with family, all flying business-class. His children had secured admissions to an excellent nearby school. There was a separate chauffeur-driven car for his wife and kids and he also had temporary memberships to two major, upscale clubs in South Mumbai.

And apart from all this, to enable him to make this really troublesome move from London to Mumbai, he received a handsome hardship allowance.

My first reaction was, “Hardship? What hardship!� In London, he had no chauffeur and used to travel to Canary Wharf by tube. He had no cook or manservant and he and his wife used to share dishwashing duties every alternate night. A part-time cleaning lady used to come by just twice a week. His children went to regular schools and used public transport.

Wasn’t his life far better in Mumbai? Where was the hardship!

I can here you sniggering!

And yet!

Twice, I’ve lived in the Western world, for extended periods. On each occasion, we’ve managed very well, without any help, doing our own laundry, washing our own dishes, cleaning the house over the weekends and driving our own cars or using public transport. At no time did we ever feel that we were wasting quality time or that we were deprived. In fact, there would still be time left over for doing a lot of other things, not only on the weekends, but also on weekdays.
 
Here, even after having cooks, maids, chauffeurs and an entire battalion to support our lives, we still land up struggling on a day-to-day basis. Any time that we might save because of the retinue that works for us, is lost in battling the inefficiencies in our systems and our lack of basic infrastructure. But that’s not the only reason for the hardship!

It’s still not easy handling beggars on the road, so imagine the shock an expat feels when someone comes up every day and taps on his car window, asking for money. It’s still difficult to get over the fact that more than half of our city is made up of slums, so think how hard it must be for someone who has just started to live here. On top of that, we shit on the roads, we spit all over, we break traffic rules as if they never existed, we insist on walking on the roads, we are rude, “in-your-face�, we don’t respect other people’s privacy and individuality, we are loud, noisy and most importantly, we are callous and we lack a basis civic sense and respect for other humans.

And as Jehangir has to add, “I don’t think doing without cooks, drivers and maids is a hardship. But having to live in the most overcrowded city with endless noise, pollution, monster traffic jams, and ongoing malaria, dengue and leptospirosis certainly is.�

Are we still sniggering about the hardship allowance?

Tags: hardshipallowance, thirdworld

Posted by bhavinj at 05:53 AM | Comments (0)

October 09, 2009

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Last weekend was so action-packed! “Someone� said "Bombay", the “other� wanted "Mumbai". The “other� immediately howled, and “someone� promptly blinked; and in the bargain, all of us living in Mumbai/Bombay had our emotions and feelings trampled upon as if we didn’t matter; willing, placid, emotionless recipients of their thrusting shenanigans.

I was livid. And not knowing why just made it worse, until I expressed myself on Facebook and found that I was not alone. The majority of my friends were seething for one reason or the other, the common thread running through all arguments and comments being that both parties had happily screwed us and taken us for a jolly, rocking ride. Apart from a sense of helpless frustration at not being able to doing anything about this situation, was a significant overlay of dense cynicism. Most friends were convinced that the whole issue had been completely stage-managed so as to garner as much front-page publicity as possible, in an attempt to bolster the newly released film's performance. Whether this was actually true or not, it shows how difficult it is for most of us to feel any kind of empathy towards people who lead public, page 3 and A-list lives, especially when they face adversarial situations, now that it is common knowledge that most of what is said and done is completely and carefully PR-managed, cultivated and controlled. We no longer trust what “these people� say or do.

Some of this anger was also directed at the posers who insist on sticking to "Bombay", and at the slightest nudge, start lamenting about the loss of some golden pre-Mumbai era that apparently has permanently vanished after the name change. It is amazing how people can delude themselves into believing that there was actually a better Bombay in the past than Mumbai is today. I can perhaps understand if this comes from people who migrated from the city when it was still called Bombay and who now see it only through sepia-tinged glasses of nostalgia. However, when thse who still live here, say that Mumbai is no longer the Bombay they knew, it just comes across as a form of pseudo-intellectual posturing, in an attempt to cling on to an elitist "English" name that perhaps is easier for a SoBo tongue to roll out, as against the more vernacular "Mumbai" that perhaps requires a SoMu conversion, before its usage becomes intuitive.

An equal part of the anger was also aimed at those who insist on thrusting the usage of the name "Mumbai" down everyone's throat, not missing a single opportunity to polarize the city with a combination of “lathis� and brains, while whipping up emotions among those who probably don't understand that they are just pawns being used to further some or the other political chess move.

And through of all of this, the majority of us, who don’t care what the city is called, as long as it becomes a better place to live in, land up being sitting ducks, unwittingly caught in the crossfire. In fact, if it were to improve our infrastructure, they could as well call our city, “Timbuctoo�. Hell, they could call it "Jhumri Talaiya", for all I care, if it also meant that we would get a city where people wouldn't shit, piss and spit on the roads and where there would be pavements to walk on and traffic rules being observed.

As Push put it succinctly! "A bombil (I dont care if it is Bombay duck or Mumbai duck) by any other name is just as crunchy!"

Tags: BombayMumbaiKaranJohar, WakeupSid

Posted by bhavinj at 05:50 PM | Comments (0)

September 25, 2009

One-Click Activism

Over the last couple of weeks, I have received at least 2-3 emails daily from people who I don't know from Raju or Adam, asking me to sign an online petition against the proposed construction of a statue of Shivaji Maharaj.

Whatever may be the merits or demerits of this petition and the project, I find it quite annoying to receive emails from people I don't know, but in whose address books, unfortunately, at some point in time, my email ID has somehow found its way. As if spam about Viagra was not enough, I now have to deal with "armchair activists", whose only real activism is the act of flexion of the middle and distal phalanges of the index finger, which allows them to click "Forward" and then to bask in the glow of having done some good in the world by spamming everyone in their address book, permission be damned.

And then there are other equally irritating tribes, who just can’t seem to learn correct email etiquette!

One is that of the "proud Indian", whose members will forward every email that says something even remotely "patriotic", especially emails that extol the virtues of Indians across the globe and end with the line "India is the only country in the World that has never invaded another". You can easily recognize these emails, because they are usually in rainbow colors, with most words in bold, often with ALL CAPs turned on, shouting "don't ignore me, you must read me".

Then there are the bleeding hearts, who will forward every email about people suffering from lung cancer or a brain tumor, asking for hugs, kisses, wishes, money and God knows what else! These are the ones who are so date-challenged that they can’t seem to learn how to scroll down to the end of the email to see that it was actually written 5 years ago, which means that even if the contents were true at the time, the person concerned has already merged with the ether!

And then there are the "alarmists", who love to spread the arrival of a new virus or worm, unaware that not only has this alarm been raised a 100 times before, but there probably is no fire to begin with. These are the same people who get their knickers in a big twist when they read about teeth dissolving overnight in a glass of Coke (not true), and then want everyone to stop drinking Coke, or think that by refusing to buy petrol for one day, they will be able to solve the world's oil problem.

And then there are the ones who really believe that there are companies on the Internet just willing to throw money at us and so keep recirculating mails from 1999 about how Microsoft and AOL will pay cash or Sony-Ericsson will hand out laptops, to those who forward emails to everyone they know. Yeah right!

And then there are the “inner beauty� seekers who keep sending life-changing couplets superimposed on sunsets in Powerpoint presentations, followed by the “jokers�, who just can’t stop sending and resending the same old PJs over and over again.

Email is a wonderful tool when used correctly, but a pain when misused. So please…do grow up! The next time you see a multi-colored ALERT, IN ALL CAPS, with italics and in bold, or if someone wants to give you a free gift or is giving away money for nothing, just drop that email into your trash-can and if that’s difficult, just count to 100 before clicking "Forward". Please!

Tags: ShivajiMaharaj, Email, Forwarding

Posted by bhavinj at 07:43 PM | Comments (0)

September 18, 2009

Cattle Class! Whose Insult is it Anyway!

Mr. Shashi Tharoor has provided much needed fodder for cud-chewing, lazy hacks like me. I presume that by now, everyone has read or heard his tweet on flying economy class "absolutely, (I will fly) in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows!�, which, despite the obvious bull-dropping, seems to be what someone from the non-cattle, poodle-class (thanks, Melody) would come up with.
 
And so for the last two days, while a bunch of politicians and prominent people have without a second thought, slammed Mr. Tharoor for being insensitive, the ones who really should have a beef with him are unfortunately silent and unmooing. Cows, buffaloes, bulls, yaks and all other members of the cattle clan can never be compared to people traveling in economy, since, traveling cows by law, get much more space than humans, 6 square feet being the bare minimum, while our human herds are penned into just around 31-36 inches of width, depending on the airline. So, if Mr. Tharoor, without mincing words, wants to call a cow, a cow, I can't but help feel that unwittingly he is being meaner to them than to humans.

Take my example and then tell me who's better off. I am 6 ft 1/2 inches tall. When traveling in economy, my pre-flight efforts are entirely focused on getting either front-row seats or emergency row seats, for the extra leg-space. If this does not happen, then, during the flight, I either have to slump down into my seat so that I can extend my legs below the preceding one, or I have to pull up my legs, so that my knees rest against the seat in front. If the person in front decides to push his/her seat back, then the only way I can manage to continue sitting is to push my seat back as well, which leads to a cascade of further pushbacks behind me. If for some reason, I am unable to push back, then the only alternative I have is to jam my knees into the seat in front in such a way that the other person just cannot push-back. It then becomes an interesting battle of strength between my knees and the seat in front, which is quite similar to the "elbow" game of strategy that one plays to gain control of the armrest from the adjacent co-passenger. Traveling cows don't need to do any of this!

In any case, for centuries, the world has been divided into the creamy-class (thanks Shimpa) and the cattle-class. The poodle-creamy-class minority remains dominant by ensuring that the cattle classes are corralled, skinned and milked to the maximum extent possible, and kept perennially subservient. If this dichotomous inequality spills over into air travel, is that any surprise? It’s really all about “entitlement�, which the creamy-poodle class believes to be its right; no one minds if the flight is all economy, but if there happens to be a business section, then, even if vegetarian, they would rather eat steak than be seen rubbing jaws with the cattle class.
 
Is there no fitting retort to Mr. Tharoor’s pithy snub? Isn’t there anyone who can stand up for the cattle and the cattle class? Mind it! There is one person, who Mr. Tharoor has to be very wary of, a person for whom the very Earth is his Bedroom, the Sky, it’s Ceiling and the whole Creation, his Native Place. The protector of cows and related beings, a man sworn to fight non-vegans, our very own Indian cowboy, Quick Gun Murugan! Beware, I say!

Tags: ShashiTharoor, CattleClass, QuickGunMuruganHolyCows

Posted by bhavinj at 05:39 PM | Comments (0)

September 13, 2009

130 Days

The countdown to 17th January 2010 has begun! Starting today, there are just 130 days left to train for the Mumbai Marathon.

Last year, I was just about able to complete the half-marathon, in a ridiculously long 2 hours and 50 minutes. This time, my aim is to try for 2 1/2 hours, but shaving off 20 minutes is not a joke, considering that the body has deteriorated further in this one year.

Once the marathon registrations began in July, I started working on some tools to help me run better. One great site is the New York Times running calculator at http://health.nytimes.com/run-well, which not only allows you to plan your schedule, depending on the method of running and training you’ve adopted, but also creates a plan that keeps track of the miles that you’ve run and the targets that you’ve set and achieved. I am currently on the Jeff Galloway plan, which involves running 3 times a week with a run-walk-run method of 3-1-3. I am actually running faster with this technique, than when I was running continuously.

To keep track of the running itself, I use the Nokia Sports Tracker, a GPS-based running program on the Nokia cell-phone, which calculates in real-time, the miles that I have run, the time it takes and other similar parameters. This workout data can then be uploaded automatically to a corresponding website. However, worldwide, the Nike + paired with the IPOD is much more popular and allows runners to keep track of their miles and minutes very easily.

And then of course come the various do's and don’ts, which just keep getting more and more confusing.
•    Some say that stretching is a must; others quote studies that show that this can be detrimental, especially for runners.
•    Some say that drinking coffee in any form, an hour before the run, improves performance; others obviously don't agree.
•    Some say that water is enough for hydration; others swear by Gatorade and Powerade and other similar drinks.
•    Some wear the latest padded shoes; others say that fancy shoes make no difference and yet others even run barefoot.
•    Some say that you should run everyday; others say that you should take a break of at least one day between runs to let your muscles rest.
•    Some say that the longer you sleep every day, the better you run; others find no difference.
•    Some cannot run without music; others find music extremely distracting.
•    Some swear by mud; others say it makes no difference whether you run on concrete or mud.
•    Some insist on cross-training a couple of days a week (swimming, etc); others say it makes no difference to the running.
•    Some purists say that running means running all the time; others believe that the body behaves better with short walk rests, between bursts of running.
And it goes on and on with the advice, since there are as many suggestions as there are experts in this field.

And yet in the end it comes down to just one elemental issue. The simple act of running! Putting on a pair of shoes, with shorts or a track-suit and a T-shirt, without any fancy equipment, getting out into the open, either in a garden or sports track or on the road and pounding the ground, one foot after another, on and on, emptying your mind of all unnecessary thought, zen-like, focusing on just one goal; running.

As over 15,000 people will do on 17 January 2010.

Tags: Running, MarathonMumbai

Posted by bhavinj at 07:25 AM | Comments (0)

September 04, 2009

Is Anyone Writing the New Guide to Parenting?

It started with a friend request on Facebook from Jai (name changed), who I couldn't identify because he had not uploaded a photograph. Out of curiosity, I asked my wife, whether she knew any Jay who might want to be an FB friend and she told me that she had received a similar request from him, and had figured out that this was Jai, a friend of our 9-year old kids, who stays in a neighboring building. She had immediately ignored his request. I sat on this for a day, not sure what to do, when Jay turned up at our doorstep and reminded me of the friend request he had sent. When I next logged on, I promptly clicked 'Ignore'.

Intuitively, this felt like the right thing to do. Apart from the fact that FB rules, which incidentally are commonly flouted, do not allow anyone under 13 to register, neither of my nine-year olds is on FB and I was extremely uncomfortable giving access to a 10-year old friend of theirs, to some bits of my private life, which though not quite as interesting as those of many others, are definitely up there on display for my 'friends'. In real-life, I would have never allowed this kind of access to most people, so why should things be any different on FB?

Though I try and deal with my friends list the way I would handle my friends in real-life, things do get complicated when I receive and accept friend requests from people I don't really know and have to then rely entirely upon what they put up on FB, to form opinons about them, which might turn out to be entirely wrong, if I were to ever land up meeting them face-to-face.

Kids are an entirely different ball-game! In the early days of FB, when it was first populated by youngsters, many parents got onto it, primarily to monitor the activities of their children. Today, people in their 30s and 40s are the biggest growth segments for FB and in many cases, it is now the children who probably want to be friends with their parents. The day after I ignored Jay's request, I friended a professional colleague of mine and within an hour or so, I received a friend request from his young teen son, who I don't know at all. I find these requests very difficult to deal with.

When I put up Jay's issue in front of all my friends on FB, the views expressed were all over the place. Some friends who are in the same age-group as me, were quite clear that 10-year olds should not be friended and in fact should not be on FB in the first place. Others took a much broader, liberal, view, saying that it makes no difference and that I should go ahead and friend him. Some confused the issue with being friends with their kids who had joined FB before them and others talked about sticking to rules, though I couldn't quite figure out what those rules were.

In the end, there was as much confusion among my friends, as there is in real-life, where we need to sometimes just find our own path when confronted with issues that our parents never had to deal with. For e.g., I know that I will refuse my kids' request for cellphones at this stage, but at what age is it fine for them to have one? Any rules for this?

Tags: Facebook, Privacy, children

Posted by bhavinj at 07:32 PM | Comments (0)

August 29, 2009

Why Multiplex Brands are Irrelevant

I am freely borrowing this quote without permission from a friend (thanks Sanjay), who put it up on Facebook, three days ago, "I used to frequently visit Big Cinema / IMAX at Wadala. Enjoyed the cinema, great seats, ample space.. And then Fun Cinemas came up at Chembur. Walking distance. I have not been to BIG, Wadala since…"

This got me thinking! Why do I go to one multiplex and not another?

Living in Matunga, I have a choice of Aurora, which is a stand-alone cinema, and three, almost equidistant multiplexes; Big in Wadala East, Cinemax in Sion and PVR at Phoenix.

Aurora of course is completely hopeless. Despite being a 3-minutes walk from my house, it has the unique ability to convert even a great movie into a terrible experience.

Perhaps the most important factor that helps me decide which multiplex to visit, is a convenient show time; provided of course that the movie I want to see, is being screened in the first place. Last year, for example, by the time we finally found the time for “Sex and the City�, it had vanished from Big and Cinemax (PVR didn’t exist), and we had to drive all the way to Sterling to catch a late night screening.
 
After that, it's all about convenience. If we are self-driving and the only activity planned is the movie itself, then Big wins out due to the ample ground level parking, available within a couple of minutes of reaching the complex. However, if we have pre or post-movie plans such as shopping or dinner, then PVR becomes the obvious choice, solely because of the vast variety of shops and restaurants at Phoenix. Very rarely, do I even think of the other facilities such as the toilets, the legroom and the popcorn and except for Cinemax, which has lousy legroom, all the others are equally good or bad.

So, what is the point of all this?

Simple. According to me, it makes no difference these days what the name of the multiplex is. They are all the same. Gone are the days, when we would have agonized over whether to see an English movie locally or go all the way to Sterling, whether to try for Metro or Liberty for the latest Hindi flick, or make do with Satyam or Badal/Bijlee. Each theatre then had its own charm, its own quirks, it’s own set of rules for ticketing, both white and black with non-existent parking, bad toilets, terrible popcorn, oily samosas and awful vegetable rolls. I can still remember sitting for ages on the Sterling steps waiting for extra-tickets and hoping that my date would show up on time, or wondering why the seat numbers in Eros went from 202 to 204, skipping 203.
 
The multiplexes are a victim of their own success. They have made "movie-watching" a great experience, all of them are equally good, and unlike in the olden days when only select theatres screened specific movies, all of them now screen all movies, all at the same time. Ergo, the name or brand of the multiplex makes no difference at all; the only factors that matter are the availability of the show, the ease of booking tickets and conveniences like location and parking. In effect, the business is completely commoditized.

Which is why, if tomorrow, Aurora were to turn into a standard multiplex, irrespective of which chain it was part of, that would be the only place I'd go to; a 3-minutes walk beats any other consideration. Ask Sanjay!

Tags: Multiplex, Cinemax, Big, PVR, Aurora

Posted by bhavinj at 04:59 AM | Comments (0)

August 22, 2009

"We Have No Time to Stand and Stare"

On my way to the airport yesterday, I pulled out the laptop, hoping to finish my new piece on last week's Shahrukh Khan's airport escapade.

Just as I started typing, my cell rang. While answering the call, I heard an SMS "ping". The moment the call ended and I started reading the SMS, the phone rang again. Since it was from a number I did not recognize, I let it go to voicemail and within moments, I received an SMS voicemail notification. While checking the voicemail, I involuntarily logged into my email account and found almost 50 emails downloading into my various inboxes. The voicemail was from a person, who I needed to call back and just as I connected to him, another call came in, which was redirected automatically to voicemail, waiting to be checked a little later.

Putting the phone aside momentarily, I quickly skimmed through the emails, trying to take action wherever it was urgent or immediately important. The phone went "ping" again. There was another SMS asking for an urgent reply to an email that had been sent just a couple of hours back. I went back to the laptop and searched for that particular email, trying to frame a cogent and intelligent reply. In the meantime, the person who's last call had gone to voicemail called again and I had no choice but to answer, despite the fact that I needed to concentrate on getting the email reply done first. I finished the call, but in the meantime, I had lost the thread of the contents of the email I was replying to and had to start focusing my thoughts all over again.

I quickly finished answering another 10 odd emails, when the phone rang again. I groaned internally, since this was from a person, who I knew would not let go for at least 5 minutes, which at that time was 4 1/2 minutes too many. In those 5 minutes, which eventually stretched to ten, there were 3 more SMS pings. As soon as the call ended and I started reading the SMSes, the phone rang again. It was a colleague who also wanted a reply to an urgent email he had sent...just 10 minutes ago.

Checking the mail with its 2MB attachment took another few minutes, by which time the car had reached the airport. I unplugged the high-speed Internet stick and shut the laptop. While checking in, there were two more phone calls, which I let go to voicemail. In the lounge, while juggling the callbacks to those phone calls, I took the opportunity to finish off replying to the rest of the emails, a task that continued in the aircraft as well, until the steward politely asked me to stop.

It was only when I was airborne and my phone was offline and the laptop had no Internet access that I could finally just sit and focus and concentrate and write out this piece.

And if you've just come down with a headache reading these frenetic words, think of what must be happening to those hordes of managers who go through this, all through the day, day after day. And I don't even use a Blackberry!

(With due apologies to W H Davies)
What is this life, of calls and cells
We have just time for texts and mails

No time to wait and think and plan
And pace our lives or ride a slow train
-
-
A poor life this, full of multitasks
No time to sit and just smell the grass

Posted by bhavinj at 07:34 AM | Comments (0)

August 15, 2009

Love in The Times of Swine Flu

This week has been so surreal that it has been impossible to even think of writing about anything else other than H1N1 and the swine flu.

I had been writing my piece on swine flu over the last three days, trying to highlight in a slightly funny and sarcastic manner, the ongoing mass hysteria, the ridiculous reaction of the Government and the medical authorities and the siege-like mentality that we have gotten ourselves into; all caused by one puny, single-stranded RNA virus. I had woven together a thread that ran through multiple facts; that H1N1 is just a mild influenza virus like any other "flu" virus, that masks are of no value in the routine scheme of things, except to make people look like they are on chemotherapy, that Tamiflu does not prevent infection, but at best reduces its effect and spread, that hand-washing is a much more effective technique in prevention and spread and that the media-focus on the deaths has been one of the prime reasons for the escalation of the whole issue.

Despite the sarcasm and irony, the article was very depressing.

By the time I had finished the final edits on that piece, it was time to go from my office in Prarthana Samaj to the one in Lower Parel. I usually take this opportunity to get some much-needed shut-eye, but on Delisle Road, I suddenly woke up to an escalating cacophony of shouting people; these were raucous "dahi-handi" breakers passing by in trucks. Then, as soon as I reached Ganpatrao Kadam Marg, I was stuck in a huge traffic snarl. G K Marg is now a busy arterial road that connects Worli Naka to Tulsi Pipe Road; despite this, there were at least four "handis" that had been strung up across the main road. Obviously, someone ahead was trying to break one of them and all traffic from both sides had come to a complete halt. Then, in typical Mumbai style, a couple of cars went past our stalled two lanes to create a third one, thus further blocking the incoming traffic and adding to the chaos. I got out of the car and walked the 200 odd meters or so to the office; handis, traffic, people yelling; it felt great! This was the Mumbai I was used to!

On an impulse, I picked up the phone and asked my wife out to a lunch date; just like that. And just like that she said yes and in an hour we met at one of Mumbai's best-kept secrets, "The Tasting Room", which is on the first floor of "Good Earth" in the Raghuvanshi Mills compound.

With some lovely Yellow Tail Merlot giving company, I ran through their vegetarian specials for the day starting with an amazingly fresh asparagus and chevre salad, moving on to a subtle mint-flavored zucchini soup, then to a delectable beet and feta risotto, while sampling parts of my wife's cottage-cheese polenta and then ending with a "just-right" ginger and vanilla creme brulee; it's been quite some time since I've found food such as this to die for and it was worth every bit of the "pigging-out".

In times like these, when the world around us seems to have lost touch with reality, when bandit-like masked people seem to be sprouting all around us and overrunning our city and common sense has taken a beating and a back-seat, it felt great to walk out into the bright afternoon sun with a satiated sense of having reclaimed some sanity and a semblance and sliver of normality.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:30 AM | Comments (0)

August 08, 2009

Black and Yellow Carbuncles

One of my favorite fantasies has me riding shotgun on a large bulldozer with a huge flame-thrower cradled over my shoulder. As soon as I come upon a black and yellow (B & Y) cab that is crawling forward at less than 30km per hour, or cutting in or not giving way or taking a turn without signaling, I just vaporize it and then instantaneously flatten it into scrap metal...

Perhaps 20-30 years ago, sitting in a B & Y cab was considered a big thing. Today, the cabs are dirty, they smell, the drivers stink, the music is loud, the agarbatti fumes overwhelm, the windows let in noxious gases, the inside is hot, the air suffocates and the drivers jerk and brake all the time.

And to top it all, our B & Y cab drivers actually have the guts to hold the Airport authorities and us to ransom, driving away the new fleet cabs, which are much nicer and cleaner and only a shade more expensive. Or perhaps they have realized that the writing is on the wall and are reacting like a drowning man thrashing blindly in all directions in an attempt to survive. But, like pus-spewing carbuncles in the middle of a dirty armpit, it's best that they be quickly surgically excised and removed. Only then can we move forward in our attempt to becoming a world-class metropolis.

Having said all this, I do owe them my first published article! Nine years ago on my blog, I posted a piece titled "The Top Ten Rules that Mumbai Taxi-Drivers Follow for Passenger Comfort and Satisfaction". It was promptly plagiarized and published under her own byline, by a young, rookie journalist from an afternoon daily. Though the article was withdrawn after I protested, I was still threatened with legal action when I demanded an apology from the journalist and the paper.

Those rules however are still apt.

10. Keep the taxi in a rickety condition, so that the ride is as bumpy and jerky as possible. The passengers will get a free body massage.

9. Brake hard, suddenly, every 3-5 minutes. This will help passengers exercise various body parts in an attempt to prevent them from being flung around.

8. Push the front seat as far back as possible. This will cramp most passengers in the back seat, thus keeping them awake and alert.

7. Blow your horn as loudly and frequently as possible. This will prevent most passengers from falling asleep, thus allowing them to use their precious time for more fruitful activities.

6. Always swear at other drivers who either drive too slow or too fast or cut you or don't allow you to cut them. This will expand the passengers' vocabulary.

5. Exchange the standard four-cylinder engine for an imported, junked, three-cylinder one. This will prevent the taxi from going over 40km/hour, thus making it safer for passengers.

4. Always drive in the middle of a two-lane road so that no other vehicle can pass you by. This will prevent noxious fumes from other vehicles entering your taxi, thus keeping the air inside clean and breathable.

3. Break signals and drive through one-way streets from the opposite direction whenever possible. The passengers will reach their destinations faster, thus saving time and money.

2. Never carry small change. This will teach passengers the new concept of rounding off to the nearest ten rupees.

1. Always refuse short-distance rides. This will make people healthier by forcing them to walk.

Posted by bhavinj at 04:02 AM | Comments (0)

August 01, 2009

If You Don't Like, Don't See It

My morning routine involves a 15-minute read of the front pages of all the English newspapers; rarely is there any item that positively changes my mental outlook for the day. This Thursday though was different. At least two papers carried a news item that had me chuckling throughout the day, keeping me so amused that my confused staff was probably wondering, "Aaj Ravana kyon has raha hain" (Why is Ravana laughing today?).

This country has two kinds of people. One group, which seems to be a proactive majority, consists of all those who love to posture about "moral" issues, especially related to nudity and obscenity; they also have the time to disrupt concerts, plays and exhibitions at will and to drag artistes to the police or the courts, under the garb of upholding our "Indian culture"/"Bhartiya sanskriti". The other group, which is in an obvious minority, consists of people like me, mute bystanders, wondering when and why Bombay became Mumbai.

I have never quite understood though, which "sanskriti" the first group is referring to! Spitting? Jostling? Never saying thank you or sorry? Honking? Being rude? Breaking signals? Cutting queues? Any civilized culture would believe that these are more important, universal values that need upholding.

So what are these Indian values that people talk about? Touching the feet of our elders? Wearing non-revealing Indian clothes? And...That's it? Are all our so-called "Indian" values nothing but external gestures without any internal backup?

And so, when a judge tells the person who filed a PIL against the show "Sach ka Samna" to go take a hike, it is really such an awesome moment. For me, even the verdict related to Article 377 does not compare in importance. With the statement "if you don't like it, don't watch it", not only has our judiciary sent across a message that rings loud and clear, it has also exposed the hypocrisy of our holier-than-thou brigade, the majority of which revels in voyeurism, but still wants to maintain a "moral" facade.

Let's face it! In the end, we are all voyeurs. The only issue is whether we have accepted this fact or whether we are still being hypocritical about it. How else can anyone otherwise explain the popularity of the current set of reality shows on TV!

Let's take "Rakhi’s Swayamwar" for example, which has to be the best self-parody on TV these days, except that the participants including Ms. Sawant actually take themselves seriously. "Is Jungle Se Mujhe Bachao", which is nothing but a "Big Boss" in a jungle is completely focused on skimpy clothes, skin-show and male bonding.

"Sach Ka Samna", has the compere, Mr. Rajeev Khandelwal asking questions like, "If you knew your wife would not find out, would you sleep with another woman?" While the participant is waiting to answer, you sit with bated breath; if the participant says yes, he is screwed because his wife is in front of him, the camera focusing relentlessly on her reactions and if he says no and the lie-detector test says he is lying, he is still screwed anyway. The show's premise is just brilliant, isn't it!

We are part of the world that we live in. And as everyone starts reaching for those 15 seconds of fame, any opportunity to do so becomes welcome, the outcomes be damned. Given this scenario, what exactly are our upholders of "sanskriti" holding up? Their inability to land those 15 seconds?

It's tough being a bleeding-hearted liberal these days...thankfully, the judiciary has just made that a shade easier.

Posted by bhavinj at 04:57 AM | Comments (0)

July 25, 2009

Mumbai Undarshan

Umberto Eco, the famous author of many books, including "The Name of the Rose" has a huge library of about 30,000 books, most of which he has obviously not read. Nassim Taleb, the author of "The Black Swan" interprets this in a very interesting way, saying that "read books are far less valuable than unread ones" and that "the library should contain as much of what you do not know (as you know)". He calls this the antilibrary.

As I was turning this thought around in my mind, I realized that this concept could also be applied to "seen and unseen" places. I then started thinking of all the streets and monuments that I have not yet been to or visited in the last 40 years, but will eventually get to in the next few decades as and when the opportunity arises. The very fact that these "unseen" areas exist, makes the city that much more interesting and appealing.

1. Haji Ali Mosque
It's there, sitting in the middle of the sea. I see it each time I pass the causeway and yet there has just not been an occasion to go there. Eventually one day when someone invites me to come with him/her, I guess this "darshan" will get taken care off.

2. Banganga
There was a picture just two days ago in one of the newspapers, showing women taking a bath in Banganga, after the eclipse. The Banganga Music Festival is famous as well, but that also hasn't been a big enough draw, I guess. It's such a short drive away from work that I guess I'll eventually get there, one day.

3. Matharpakady
I had read about this place many years ago; an area in Mazgaon resembling an old Portuguese village with cobble-stone roads and interesting houses. I don't even know if it still exists, but the knowledge there may be a street like this still around, makes the thought of going into Mazgaon one of these days, quite appealing.

4. Girgaum "wadis"
Many of these are quite famous for a variety of reasons, including the Ganpatis, but I guess I haven't been to any, simply because they are all located less than a kilometer away from my workplace and I keep telling myself that I can go there any time that I want.

5. Bandra-Worli Sea Link
This is the latest entrant. Everyone I know has been over it but funnily, I just can't seem to find the inclination to want to do so, perhaps because I know that sometime in the near future when I need to visit Bandra and then go to Worli, I will land up using it.

I asked my FB friends as well and they came up with many more suggestions, all of which I haven't been to yet, but will probably land up getting to sometime in the future, or perhaps never;
6. Film City and something called Chhota Kashmir
7. Mahim Nature Park
8. Mumbadevi Temple
9. Shivdi (Sewri) Fort
10. BHNHS Conservation Education Centre
11. Mahakali Caves (are the caves still there?)

Now that this list is made, it's actually quite comforting to have all these "unseen" places around. Considering that as a die-hard Mumbaiite with 40 years in this city already under the belt and with a few more still left to get through, visiting or thinking of visiting these 'unseen" places is one of the few things in this city that I can actually look forward to.

Posted by bhavinj at 07:52 AM | Comments (0)

July 18, 2009

Mud-Splattered Nirvana

Our relationship with the rains is completely schizoid. While we want it to rain, so that there is enough water throughout the year, we get really stressed and irritated when it rains on our way to work or when we are traveling to keep an appointment, or basically at anytime during the workweek. And yet it was not always like this.

One of the simple pleasures we had, when we were kids, was playing football in the rains. My school has the largest playground in Mumbai and there was ample opportunity to play virtually any game before or after school hours.

During the rains, the football grounds would get so soggy and soft that each time our feet hit the brown mud, wet clumps would fly and stick to our shoes, socks, legs and eventually, shorts and shirt. By the time we were done with our play, we would be completely mud-soaked, some of us even sporting brown hair, especially if we had fallen down at any time. We would then proudly trudge home, wait outside the door, remove our socks, shoes and shirt and only then be allowed to cross the threshold while gingerly holding in one hand, our dirty shoes, which would promptly go into a bucket in the bathroom, where both the shoes and our bodies would get a good dunking. Most of us would have been ideal candidates for Surf Excel or Rin ads.

Once we were done with school, playing football in the mud pretty much stopped. And as we grew up and made our way through college and then started working, the rains went from being fun to being irritating, something to avoid rather than to revel in.

Until three days ago.

I was running in school, in the evening, in an attempt to stay fit. It had been raining a bit in the morning, but the skies were clear when I started. A few minutes into the run however, dark clouds suddenly gathered over the ground, and a few raindrops started falling.

I continued to run, as did many others.

And then the heavens opened up and the clouds burst and the rain pelted down fast and furious. Within no time I was completely drenched. My spectacle lenses were swimming in large pools of water and I could barely see a couple of feet ahead. Luckily I know my running route inside out and so I focused on my stride, trying to make sure that I wouldn't fall, especially over the thin film of slippery water that often covers concrete surfaces.

Part of my route is along the edge of the football grounds. The moment I stepped on the mud, my shoes went splutch and squelch, splutch and squelch, with mud flying in all directions, cloaking my Nike Airs, splattering my socks and sticking to the back of my legs. I am now much taller than I was as a school-kid and luckily the rest of my upper body was spared.

Soon though, the shoes became wet and heavy and I could feel my socks turn pulpy. My T-shirt seemed to have gained a couple of kilos and was sticking to my ungainly chest. My hair was a fountainhead. The rain refused to relent and after a while, it just became too difficult to fight the pouring sheets of water and the accompanying wind and I finally stopped.

I walked home in the rain, on top of the world, without an umbrella or raincoat, devoid of any care in those brief moments.

Bliss!

Posted by bhavinj at 11:58 AM | Comments (0)

July 11, 2009

Lunch - The Most Important Period in School

"Breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a pauper", is a popular saying in the Western World. In India, it should read, "breakfast like a prince, lunch like an emperor and dinner like a king".

Our obsession with lunch manifests itself in many ways, one being the Six-Sigma acknowledged "dabba" system, which delivers tiffin-boxes across the length and breadth of Mumbai, along with a large number of private carriers and peons who carry warmer "dabbas" for those who don't want their food cold.

Our "emperor" lunches have many consequences, the most important perhaps being the significant diversion of blood from our brains to our stomachs, which in turn induces an almost instantaneous post-prandial, soporific state, the effect of which becomes quite evident in the general slow-down in most of our work-places in the afternoons. The worst hit is usually the first post-lunch speaker during a conference, who keeps wondering why he is lecturing a bunch of drooping heads and closed eyelids.

This "lunch" obsession of ours also finds an echo in our schools, with many parents falling over themselves to prepare the most elaborate of meals for their children. Some of these parents also land up in school to hand-feed their wards, a few even laying down mats and cutlery, "picnic" style.

Last week, at a PTA meeting in one of Matunga's premier schools, the new Principal laid down the law in no uncertain terms, showing off a strictness that may not be out of place when dealing with Matunga/Sion/Wadala parents. Among other issues, he discussed the lunch hour and said that the school henceforth would not allow parents and guardians unlimited and free access to their children and that they would have to stay in a specific, enclosed area from where the kids could come and pick up their dabbas, lunches, etc.

The moment the floor opened for questions and the first couple of comments related to learning disabilities and "authentic" and "non-authentic" doctors were swept out of the way, the discussion became completely focused on the "lunch" issue, each questioning and commenting parent claiming to represent many others, in the hope of adding more validity to his/her comments and views.

The unifying thread was that parents had to be allowed to feed their children. Some needed to do this so that their children could be given necessary medicines, which apparently only they and no one else could administer. Some others wanted to be around to make sure that their precious offspring were not injured during the remainder of the lunch hour while playing; one parent apparently had been recently bit by a ball while standing on the sidelines and wanted the kids' play to be better supervised, not understanding that this was just the kind of excuse the school needed to restrict parental encroachment.

The best comment, which was immediately endorsed by another parent, came towards the end. "Why don't we change the timings so that school starts one hour earlier, and ends by 2.30PM, so that all the kids can come home for lunch and then rest and sleep? This way everyone is happy." I guess this is one more way to train our kids to believe that the end of a working day should be a large, sumptuous lunch.

As we were all leaving, I overhead a parent, who like me must have found the proceedings quite "interesting". "I guess, school for many is just another 'lunch' place, with incidental teaching periods before and after". That made my day!

Posted by bhavinj at 11:40 AM | Comments (0)

July 04, 2009

When the Music (Didn't) Die

I cried the day Lennon was shot and then spent the next two days playing all the Beatles albums I had, as loudly as possible.

I almost blew out my speakers and fired the amp playing all the Queen I had, when Freddie Mercury died.

I will take a day's holiday when Knoffler or Springsteen or Billy Joel cross over.

I was working and continued to work when I heard of Michael Jackson's death.

I just don't get it! I mean, I get the fact that MJ is an iconic figure and has created waves, good or bad, throughout his career and therefore would be expected to dominate the news in the event of his death. What I don't understand is the hype and hoopla over his music. I know I will be quartered for this blasphemy, but I am confident that I am not alone; that there are others like me out there (apart from Krishnan and Ramnath, of course!).

In the early 80s, I was already hooked into the whole Floyd, Zep, Tull, Sabbath scene. The Beatles were numero uno. For pop, it was ABBA. Also up there were S & G and CSNY. Bee Gees were somewhere in the middle, with Wham, etc at the periphery. Dylan and Clapton were icons (Dylan of course, still is). And amongst all these greats, MJ and his music just didn't figure anywhere in our scheme of "music" things.

In fact, his name and music first wafted into my consciousness only because my parents had brought back a Sony CD player from a trip to Japan and the only CDs that a friend from the US was able to get, were "Thriller" and some Billy Ocean rubbish. This was around 1982-83 and if I wanted to show off the sound quality of the CD player, I had no choice but to play some numbers from the "Thriller" CD. To be fair, "Billie Jean" was not bad and I can remember "Beat It" as well, but that's as far as MJ's music goes for me; I am pretty sure that this is my loss and no one else's!

The other reason we talked about MJ in those days, for some time, was when we saw his music videos of some of the "Thriller" numbers. There was no question that he was an outstanding dancer and like everyone else, we tried to moonwalk for a while. But even then, he never did match up to our all-time dance idol, John Travolta, whose pelvic thrusts in Saturday Night Fever had us staying up long evenings, trying to get those moves just right. After that, the only other video I found interesting was the one he did with Naomi Campbell, in which she looked sexier, but he looked prettier.

Then the last time I really listened to any of his music, was during the "great" concert in Mumbai, though "listen" is probably a euphemism, given the terrible acoustics at the back of the stadium. What I do remember most from those days though is the toilet that didn't get flushed for a few days, after he peed in it, in the house of one of Mumbai's famous politicians.

I take no pride in kicking the dead. And yet, I am amazed at the extent of the emotional outpouring that has occurred over the last week. The only logical explanation for my remaining untouched by all of this must be that that I am totally and fully, musically and emotionally challenged.

Posted by bhavinj at 04:15 AM | Comments (0)

June 27, 2009

Six Months of "Something About Nothing?"

Today's piece marks the six-month anniversary of this column's existence since it first saw the light of day on 27th Dec 2008. I am neither a celebrity, nor a political commentator or film reviewer and hence it is only thanks to you readers that this column works, especially since the most angst I have expended has only been on issues such as cars blocking gates and the Rs. 90 valet parking charge at one of the local hotels, all of which make this column, in Jerry Seinfeld's words, probably just "something about nothing", in the process showcasing my firm belief that only small things matter in life...we have in any case, no control over the bigger issues around us.

People keep asking me where I get all my ideas for this column. Most of them come from what I see around me, and some from friends and family. If I then think that any of these suggestions is worth writing about or may perhaps be of interest to you, I then jot them down on my cell-phone for future reference.

I went through this list last week and realized that that most of these entries will perhaps now never get written up; some of them have passed their expiry date on topicality, some need more than 600 words and some others can be dealt with in less than 300.

For example, the first entry is titled, "Dumped by a Nutritionist". This was supposed to be a rant about an upscale "lunch-dabba" person, who makes a fantastic vegetarian lunch tiffin. However, I have a specific food allergy and they had to take special care to make sure that my food was prepared separately. After five years of being together, the head honcho called me out of the blue one fine day, and told me that since the workers were getting extremely stressed out trying to manage my lunch separately, I would have to find someone else. Just like that! Not even an "It's my fault, not yours" line.

The next entry is just titled "Jhumpa Lahiri". When "Interpreter of Maladies" first came out, I thought it was highly over-rated and said so in a long 1200-word review elsewhere. However, she seems to have partly redeemed herself with "Unaccustomed Earth" and I thought I could perhaps make amends with a more positive review. Well guess what...I've just done that, haven't I!

Then comes, 'Mr. First Name'. World over, if your name is Mr. Kiran Shah, you will be addressed as Mr. Shah. It is only in India, that you will be addressed as Mr. Kiran. I have banged my head against an impenetrable wall, trying to teach people, correct usage. Now with increasing age, I have finally reached a stage of acceptance and so this piece will perhaps never get written.

In the middle of that list, is the phrase 'National Anthem', where I was supposed to write about the inconsistent manner in which our cinema theatres play 'Jana Gana Mana' before the main show. Some screen the fast, 52-second, "peppy" version, whereas others show the Mangeshkar sisters doing a slow, "sad" rendition, which keeps going on and on and on for over a minute, which is really irritating because our National Anthem is supposed to be a "happy", celebratory song.

There are many other similar topics, but now that I am again out of space, I will run through the "unwritten" ones again at the end of another six months. In the meantime, this column runs on reader feedback, so please keep getting back to me.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:25 AM | Comments (0)

June 20, 2009

The Thepla, Khakhra, Chunda and Mukhwaas Bag

When Gujjus (and I suspect others as well) travel long distance, there is usually one bag that occupies pride of place on their luggage trolleys and carts and is protected with utmost care to ensure that nothing inside breaks.

This is what they usually contain.
1. Theplas.
These can be plain, sweet or made with methi. They have to be eaten quickly because even though they are well protected in foil or Tupperware-type containers, their shelf life remains short and they usually start spoiling after 2-3 days. They are great for a late night snack, for breakfast or for dunking in some readymade chai and land up being real lifesavers when there is no access to vegetarian restaurants, at odd hours, in strange cities.

2. Chunda.
What are theplas without chunda! Chunda is a type of pickle, made of small raw-mango strips, swimming in a gooey, sweet and sour base, usually orange or red in color. Though theplas and chunda are usually eating like chapatis and sabzi, one great way of eating a thepla is to smear it with chunda and then to roll it up like a Frankie.

3. Khakhras.
These are thin, crisp, papad-like chapatis. They however break quite easily and have to be packed with a great deal of care - I know some people who even bubble-wrap them. Khakhras can be eaten at all times and go really well with ghee and sugar or ghee and masala as well as readymade masala chai. As I wrote last year, there is a bewildering variety of khakhras, including Schezwan ones, available today.

44 Readymade Masala Chai.
No true Gujju drinks "dip-dip" chai, which is probably why the market for powdered ready-made masala chai is flourishing. All you need to do is add some hot water and voila! a cup of reasonably terrible and tasteless masala tea is ready. The bad taste can be mitigated by using the tea as a dunking medium; for theplas, khakhras, and if you have children in tow, Parle Gluco biscuits.

5. Parle Gluco Biscuits.
It doesn't matter which brand and which company brings out which type of glucose biscuits. In the end, it's only Parle Gluco biscuits. When you have recalcitrant kids creating a big fuss during meals, all you have to do is to open one packet, whip up a cup of ready-made masala chai and bingo! your kid is happy eating soggy, dunked Parle Gluco biscuits. Parle Gluco biscuits are so ubiquitous that according to popular folklore, every "Indian" store in the world is supposed to have at least one shelf dedicated to them.

6. Kela Wafers.
If you live in Matunga, you have access to some of the most wonderful kela (banana) wafers in India, either from one of the shops on the Circle or from the cart-vendor, near the Market, who makes them fresh. A couple of packets of crunchy wafers are extremely useful during picnics or long-day trips and with whiskey shots.

7. Gor-Papdi.
This is a sweet produced from jaggery, wheat-flour and ghee. Each small triangle is power-packed with calories and makes for a nice, small, post-dinner, desert treat.

8. Mukhwaas.
Which Gujju food bag would be complete without at least a couple of packets of mukhwaas made from a variety of colored substances! Today, as with khakhras, there are shops in Matunga that carry a mind-boggling array of mukhwaases and their individual ingredients.

Ironically, this bag is the only one that becomes lighter as the trip unfolds.

Posted by bhavinj at 04:40 AM | Comments (0)

June 13, 2009

Track and Be Tracked

For the last few years, I have always felt envious of my friends and family abroad, whenever they have driven me around in their cars from one place to another. Virtually all their cars are equipped with GPS tracking devices, which use detailed road maps to help them get from one place to another, without the need to refer to map books. These GPS (Global Positioning System) devices are palm-sized, use the power of multiple satellites orbiting the Earth's atmosphere and come with detailed maps so that once the destination address is entered, the device automatically calculates the most appropriate route and then guides the driver along the roads with audio-based instructions.

I may be mistaken, but I have not as yet seen GPS devices in India that work with the same precision as those in the US or UK. This seems to be less a hardware issue and more a software problem, probably related to the poor availability of detailed maps with updated road-names, considering our penchant for changing the names of our roads and cities ever so often.

But as with all things these days, there are workarounds, which I have been able to find using my Nokia E71, which is incidentally a great choice for those who want a full-fledged QWERTY keyboard for typing and find the on-screen keyboard on the IPhone a pain, and also hate the constant email beep-beep of a Blackberry.

If you install Google Maps on the E71 and then use both GPRS and GPS, you can clearly see your current, actual location with a high degree of accuracy. I have used this method to successfully navigate a route from Powai to Madh Island at midnight, as well as to make sure that my cabdrivers in non-familiar cities in India don't take me for a ride (pun intended).

GPS technology though can do more than give driving instructions, allowing other forms of tracking as well. For example, if you are an anally obsessed parent with control issues, you could potentially track the exact location of your son/daughter by either putting a GPS chip in his/her car or in a very dark Orwellian manner, surreptitiously implanting the chip in some part of his/her body.

But what really blew me away, early this week, was the way I was able to use GPS technology to track my running. On Tuesday, I stumbled upon a program called Nokia Sports Tracker (NST) and its companion website. NST works on a large number of Nokia models and I was able to successfully install it on the E71.

When you start NST, using GPS, it first pinpoints your exact position. Then when you start running, walking or cycling, it accurately tracks your movement, and on your cell-phone, shows you the distance that you are covering, the speed with which you are running or walking, the altitude, the time per km or mile and the total calories burnt. And all this information is real-time.

As if this is not enough, it actually traces the route that you have taken and superimposes this on a low-resolution map on the cell-phone. Then, once the run is complete, you can send the entire workout record to the program's server, which superimposes the tracked route on a high-resolution Google map, which you can then view along with the rest of your track record, on the companion website.

The best part? Actually what I've described is the best part...NST also comes with a "free" tag.

How absolutely cool is that!

Posted by bhavinj at 09:29 AM | Comments (0)

June 06, 2009

A Magical World

About a week ago, I was lazing on a stone bench in the mid-afternoon, between Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin and Monsters Inc. Laugh Floor in Disney's Magic Kingdom in Orlando, having just finished lunch, while the rest of the family was busy zapping aliens.

People were walking and strolling all around me, some fast, some slow, some with small kids, some with teenagers, many adults pushing prams, some fathers holding infants in their arms, other mothers holding backpacks and water bottles, some in no hurry, some checking the map for directions and others deciding which ride to get into next with their children.

The funny thing is that it did not seem to matter one bit what color or race the people were - white and black Americans, Brits, desi and non-desi Indians, Australians, Japanese, Arabs and other nationalities that I couldn't even figure out - all of them were behaving in the same manner. We were all families with kids, out to have a good time, all the parents trying to do the best for their children, making sure that they all had enough to eat, protecting them with sunscreen and making sure that they were not getting dehydrated in the hot Floridian sun.

I was half-asleep, in a Rousseauish "floating happiness" kind of reverie, when through the Magic Kingdom cloud, I had some kind of an epiphanic moment, which I am not sure I am entirely able to explain with words.

Whether it was at the Animal Kingdom or Universal Studios or Blizzard Beach, every father or mother knew instinctively what the other parents were thinking of, especially when waiting in the lines for the rides. There could be a German family in front of us or perhaps someone from Korea behind, but the children were all the same; some fighting, some well behaved, some sipping Coke, some talking nine-to-a-dozen non-stop, the older ones looking bored and the younger ones full of excitement. If my kids started to misbehave, no one else really minded, because it could be their unpredictable kids who might start to act up, the next minute.

And once you are in the rides, it doesn't matter what color you are when the car or cart you are in accelerates in a stomach-churning manner through space. The screams, the raised hands in the air and the scared looks on some of the faces...all look the same, irrespective of which part of the world you come from. And the word "awesome" mouthed by kids after each roller-coaster ride sounds the same, irrespective of the language.

And though a little dated for today's day and age, it is this theme of a single, connected universe, that the tableau "it's a small world" is all about, where costumed child puppets are dressed to represent a vast range of cultures, creeds and races, while the title song keeps playing repetitively throughout all the rooms, in a sappy and cheesy, but uplifting manner.

Sadly, once we all start making our way to the airport to take our flights back to the countries that we came from, and the Disney magic wears off, we all revert back to true form; with all our prejudices and dislikes and issues, pushing to the farthest parts of our minds the singular experience that we've had in Disney, where we all seemed to be part of a single, fun-loving organism without any distinction - in a way exemplifying the kind of utopian world portrayed in Star Trek - the one, single race of humankind.

Posted by bhavinj at 02:50 PM | Comments (0)

May 29, 2009

It is Harmful to Fall Sick in May

Just as we have a warning on cigarette packets that states, "Cigarette smoking is injurious to health", we need to popularize another rule that says, "It is harmful to fall sick in May".

Let's look at these two scenarios.

Scenario 1: You have a cough and some cold and fever. You go down to your friendly neighborhood family physician and you find that he has gone on vacation to Nainital and will be back only after 10 days. There is a junior locum doctor, but you remember a "not-so-good" experience with the last one and you decide not to go to him. Your backup family physician is also in Panchgani and will return only after 8 days. You now decide to manage things on your own with the help of the local chemist and pray and hope for the best.

Scenario 2: You have a nodule in the lung, discovered on a routine, yearly chest x-ray. Your family physician is leaving for London after 3 days. You immediately get a CT scan done. A CT-guided biopsy is now required, but the radiologist who performs this is going to Sikkim tomorrow. You need to see an oncologist as well, but if you do that, the radiologist will have gone, and then you might have to get the biopsy done with a junior colleague or somewhere else. Already stressed, you get the biopsy done the next day, but the report will come only after 4 days. In the meantime, the recommended oncologist is also leaving for a Europe holiday in 3 days. You try to call up the pathologist, but she is not in town and will return from her vacation only two days later and it is unlikely that the report will be ready in time. In the meantime, you get a PET/CT done, which shows that if the nodule is cancerous, surgery is the best option. You now have to see an oncosurgeon, but all the chest oncosurgeons are on vacation and the first one will return only after 10 days.

The biopsy report is positive for cancer, but by the time the biopsy report comes, the oncologist has left for his vacation. You try two other oncologists recommended by the family physician, but they are out of town as well. The family physician has also left by now and there is no one to handhold you through the whole process. You see a fourth oncologist, but since he was not recommended by your family physician, you are not sure whether to go by his suggestions. By now, 12 days have gone by and your stress levels are sky-high. The oncosurgeon has just returned, but his secretary refuses to give an appointment for the next 3 days, since the appointment diary is full because of the backlog....

I'm sure you've figured out what the issue is. May is the month when virtually all doctors (except those whose children are entering the 10th standard) go on leave. And when the doctor(s) you want to go to is/are on leave, scenarios similar to the ones that I have described above are not uncommon.

The May phenomenon is tied to the school holidays. But over the years as more and more doctors have taken to going on long vacations, other doctors have followed suit as well and the whole "vacation" issue has snowballed. Unfortunately, we can't ask doctors not to go on vacation. Hence, the only solution available to the general population is "Don't fall sick in May".

Posted by bhavinj at 05:43 AM | Comments (0)

May 22, 2009

The Daya Gada Laugh

One laugh.

One laugh that has the power to change so many lives and fortunes.

So first, about the laugh!

It is not easy to describe this laugh in words. At first hear, it almost sounds like a donkey braying, but that's obviously what it is not! The laugh actually starts a little softly, but then quickly reaches a crescendo, with a staccato of 4-5 "he-he-he"'s. And despite the fact that Mrs. Daya Gada laughs like this at least once during each episode, it almost always appears spontaneous. You can tell by just looking at her eyes, which never stop twinkling through the entire length of the laugh. It is obvious that Daya is having a blast and perhaps that's the precise reason why this laugh is so infectious. When Daya Gada laughs, you laugh...it's very, very difficult not to.

Now, about the lives and fortunes!

This laugh has definitely changed the fortunes of Ms. Disha Vakani, who plays Daya Gada, a "from-the-village-shifted-to-the-city" MTM (Maniben trying to be Mod), who speaks before she thinks, but is not a dimwit (a difficult balancing act), unlike for example, Supriya Pathak's character in Instant Khichdi. In fact at times, Daya actually turns the tables on her husband, whose favorite response to most Dayaisms, is the retort, "nonsense". Considering that Ms. Vakani's filmography till date is quite forgettable, she has obviously seized this opportunity with her hands, legs and every other appendage that she has and immersed herself completely into the Daya Gada character with full abandon, hamming away to glory with a classic Gujju/Kathiawari/Kutchhi accent that works perfectly despite the "loud" performance.

Her laugh has also brought into the limelight, Mr. Tarak Mehta, a popular Gujarati writer, whose column "Duniyane Undha Chashma", which translates loosely into "seeing the world through upside-down glasses", in the weekly Chitralekha, is the basis for this sitcom, "Tarak Mehta ka Ooltah Chashma" (TMOC).

Daya's laugh is one of the main reasons for the success of TMOC. The sitcom may be in Hindi, but it is Gujarati and Kutchhi at heart, with many community touch-points that I suspect often bounce over the heads of non-Gujju, non-Kutchhi viewers. TMOC's thrust is supposed to be its so-called social message and theme, especially with respect to Tapu, Daya Gada's son, Daya actually being just a minor character in the weekly column. However, Ms. Vakani has made Daya's persona so popular and powerful that TMOC's focus has now quietly shifted more and more towards Daya Gada and her antics.

This laugh is also one of the reasons for the altered perception of the channel on which TMOC airs. SAB TV till date has been just another channel at the periphery of our consciousness, with no real claim to fame, except perhaps for the sitcom "FIR", which incidentally also stars another very interesting woman character. In the crowded space of general-purpose Hindi channels, populated by Star Plus, NDTV Imagine, Colors, Real, Zee and Sony, all battling for "saas-bahu", "orphan/widowed children" and "song-dance reality show" eyeballs, SAB seems to have broken away, by focusing on "comedy" serials and sitcoms. Of all the sitcoms airing currently, TMOC is undoubtedly the best and probably the most popular, having actually managed to draw away viewers from "Jai Shri Krishna" on Colors, which also airs during the same 8.30PM slot.

The power of one laugh.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:41 AM | Comments (0)

May 15, 2009

The Generational Language Divide

My tube-light finally stopped flickering today!

Whenever I have sat with feedback and comments from readers and friends, I've often felt the presence of a half-explained, ill-formed thought, swirling in the nether-regions of my mind, without clear definition and form; a thought that finally surfaced yesterday, as an obvious realization, when short of ideas for today's column, I started going through previous comments and suggestions from readers as well as responses to an "ideas" request on Facebook.

Let's see if you get it!

Reader/Friend 1: i think d ongoing craze n fan following 4 ipl is jst d bst topic 4 u 2 write on.........lyk ppl jus leavin their work aside and going 2 the nearest tv showroom, friend's place......or even a radio at the panwalla's place jus 2 gt d score!!!!!

Reader/Friend 2: Well i am a 19yr old boy doing computer science not by interest but by confusion or may be i had no other options.I dont know is it just me who has landed up in something i never wanted to do or there are 1000s of students like me who are doing sumthing they aren't interested in.

Reader/Friend 3: i saw ppl doing their daily WALKS on the sky walks..
is that what they were meant for...

Reader/Friend 4: Premium Fuel - Recent research has suggested that the premium fuel is only a farce has no significant improvement over regular fuel. Moreover, the pricing of the premium fuel is not regulated and has not relation to the price of regular fuels.

Did you get it?

Reader/Friend 1 is a 16-year old, Reader/Friend 2 is 19 years old, Reader/Friend 3 is 22-23 year old, studying in a professional college and Reader/Friend 4 is an adult, probably in his late-30s/40s. Did you get the gradual change in the writing method from Reader/Friend 1 to Reader/Friend 4?

When texting, I too use "c u at 4" to increase my typing/thumbing speed. Also, "Laughing out Loud" does not have the same impact as LOL. But this is nothing compared to the way teens and 20-odd-year olds communicate these days; it is a completely different lingo when it comes to the written word and it is quite obvious that the use of the English language has changed and that too dramatically. If the generation gap between my parents and me is a small divide, the one between the current 16-25 year-old kids and my generation is a chasm!

And yet, I am not a purist. In the early days of SMS, I just couldn't bring myself to thumb "ur gr8". But language and circumstances do evolve and utility and practicality often will win out! Nevertheless, irrespective of age and generation, bad spelling and grammar are still not acceptable, especially if someone writes the way an adult reader did last week.

Reader/Friend 5: I want to join with you and clean-up this indiscipline driving parking and make driving more peaceful than chasseing one other. What you do to a guy trying to squeeze in between when you are in a queue at a toll nakka or a Police bhendavast ? Some rules to be implemented. All buses to be play extreme left side of the road. BEST should be avoid moving on small roads and by lanes. Band all plastic bags.

In fact, I would go as far as to say that I would prefer any day that people go short on the language like the 16-year old, rather than macerate every aspect of the written English, the way Reader/Friend 5 has done.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:38 AM | Comments (0)

May 08, 2009

What to Do When Someone Blocks Your Building Gate with His/Her Car- A Collaborative Primer

Among situations that cause instant angst, perhaps none stokes my temper as much as finding my building gate blocked by a car that prevents me from leaving or entering, depending on whether I am going out or coming back home.

This is the time when most of us will completely lose it and try to do something really drastic to teach the erring driver a permanent and brain-searing lesson.

Things like...

1. Take a sharp instrument (usually a key) and run it across the length of the car to create a nice, long signature scratch in the shiny paint. Does anyone remember Woman in Red or the recent Aamir Khan commercial?
2. With all your force, kick the side door as hard as possible to make a big dent. Take care not to injure your foot in the bargain.
3. Deliberately, change your car's position and then reverse the bumper edge into the side door. Try to inflict as little damage to your own bumper as possible.

These however are vicious acts that can have their own unfortunate consequences. To see if there were gentler methods of punishment that could perhaps be more effectively employed, I polled my friends on Facebook for their thoughts and opinions. The suggestions below are a typical example of present-day collaborative thinking and writing, each writer/friend acknowledged by his/her initials. The words in italics, both above and below represent my own additional thoughts.

4. Deflate tyres (BJ). This is the most obvious, but leaves the car still standing there and therefore works only if have an alternate way of getting out or in.
5. Park cars on either side of the "blocking" car and box it in (AS). This may not always be possible, since we have to arrange for at least one more car, but it seems to be a good idea if we can make it work.
6. Put sand and stones in the petrol tank (FV). The problem here is that the petrol tanks in most cars are locked and can only be opened from the inside.
7. Paint the car (AM) and/or spray paint "Don't Block Gate" on that car (STG). The only problem here is that most of us in Mumbai don't keep paint cans at home.
8. Force the window open and empty the garbage from the entire building into the car (JS). Lovely, dirty idea, but if I was that good at opening locked car windows, I could just as well put the car in neutral and push it away.
9. Get four dogs and let them do their job (SF). Four dogs...in Mumbai? Plus, we have to wait till the erring driver shows up.

And then as usual, the most sensible and calm suggestion came from two women (AM and RS)

10. Call the cops and ask them to tow the car away and pay for the towing. This may cost a bit, but it's probably the best way to get revenge without losing your own temper. According to AM, this works all the time and the cops usually land up without fail in about 10 minutes and sometimes faster if you express some anger while speaking with them. What is really gratifying though, is that most of the times, the person whose car has been towed away gets really hysterical and angry and this can be an amazingly soothing balm for our angry souls.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:35 AM | Comments (0)

May 02, 2009

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'
Bob Dylan, "The Times They are A-Changin"

You can mark the milestones in your life by the cars you've had. In 1983, my first car was a hand-me-down Ambassador that had been in the extended family for more than 20 years, a car with gears so hard that by the time I learnt to drive it expertly, I could've driven any vehicle, large or small, on Indian roads.

In the early 80s, we also bought our first Premier Padmini. The waiting list was for more than 3 years, but we managed to get an out-of-turn car through some professional quota. Given the prevailing imperious attitudes, arranging a loan from the local bank and taking delivery of the car from Premier Automobiles were both quite harrowing tasks; the bank was the nicer of the two. Once we got the car we never went back to the company for anything; which explains why there was a flourishing business in places like Koliwada, for repairmen and mechanics. That company completely deserves its current fate (Dylan was so prescient).

Then came the Maruti revolution, which not only ushered in the era of choice, but also allowed cars to be purchased without any significant waiting. And by the time we bought the Zen in the mid-90s, private banks had already started their liberal and aggressive lending policies, which we first experienced when we moved to a Honda City in 1998. By then, things had completely changed. From the time we entered the showroom till the time we left after a test drive, we were treated as if we really mattered as customers, a phenomenon that was further amplified in the years to come, by companies like Hyundai. The next couple of car purchases were even simpler with the car companies and the banks actually falling over themselves to give loans and extend freebies, to the extent that for one car, we actually received an interest-free, one-year loan.

But all these "changes-for-the-better" suddenly felt quite insignificant last Saturday, when I sat with this MacBook Pro, fired up Firefox, went to tatanano.com and clicked "Book Online". I chose the model, input my personal details and paid the deposit through my netbanking account...all in a mere 10 minutes. Sure, there is a waiting list for the Nano and I may not even get an allotment this time; but I was actually able to book the car and pay for it online, in the comfort of my office, without having to bother about showrooms, bank loans, etc.

It is not just that the car is relatively inexpensive and significantly "green" as compared to the others in the market. The Nano shows us how far we have come; from those times when a Premier Automobiles clerk or peon could throw us out of the showroom if we made even the slightest mistake during the purchase process, we are now in a world, where we can see, book and pay for a car online without having to interact with any human-being, if we so desire.

But do you know what the Dylanesque paradigm shift is? India is the only country in the world today where you can actually and truly buy an entire car online. Trust me...I've searched and searched and searched.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:14 AM | Comments (0)

April 25, 2009

One Smile is All it Takes

Queues are stressful. Whether they are airport security lines or the lines at the passport office; they are all uniformly distasteful.

Here's what happened two weeks ago.

I have to get a passport renewal done. I reach at 9.45AM to see that a large line has already formed, since people have been queuing up from 8.00AM. I am lucky to get in by 10.20AM. I am then asked to wait behind 5 other people in the "Tatkal" line and I realize that my turn will come only after an hour.

An hour of waiting can be quite difficult. Luckily, I have some calls to complete and this takes up 30 odd minutes. I spend the rest of the time studying the situation and the people around me. There are long lines everywhere and behind me in the "Tatkal" line there are now more than 10 people.

The clerks are reasonably polite but as time passes by there is some irritation that seems to creep in. Part of this is because many people have not come with the appropriate paperwork or some want to get the police check process canceled since they want to leave the country the very next day; the clerks are not empowered to allow this and a lot of time is wasted in needless arguing.

When my turn comes, I find out to my chagrin that my paperwork is not complete as well. I need to get a couple of old visas copied. The clerk though is quite nice and asks me to get the copies and come back immediately. Luckily, the copier is in the adjacent office in the same complex. There is a small waiting period during which I get into a fight with another woman who has come after me but wants her papers copied out of turn.

I am now quite irritated, but luckily the paperwork is now fine. The clerk now asks me to stand in another line to pay the money. It's been two hours now and I want to get back to work. There are six people in front of me and I can see that I will have to stand for another 30 odd minutes. I can feel myself frowning and knotting up.

I keep looking around, trying to distract myself. As I turn around, a pretty woman in her mid-20s gives me a broad, eye-reaching smile. One smile. In that instant, my frown just dissolves completely, replaced by a small, growing smile that completely overpowers my irritability. All of this happens spontaneously and virtually instantaneously and without thinking I turn around and tell the woman "Thank you for the smile." She smiles even more...she then tells me that she has met me before once...I didn't remember.

It doesn't matter that she knew me. The point is that I didn't know her at the time when she smiled. To me it was just someone in an adjacent line being nice. And it took just that one smile to make all the difference.

I think as a race, we Indians just don't smile enough. I don't know why that is; maybe we are afraid of rejection if the other person does not smile back or perhaps we are just not a "smiley" race.

I hate "sayings" and "quotes", but this unknown ditty is so apt.
"Smiling is infectious,
You can catch it like the flu.
Someone smiled at me today,
And I started smiling too."

Posted by bhavinj at 08:05 AM | Comments (0)

April 18, 2009

How Beautiful Should a Voice Look?

Three days ago, a friend (thanks, Tillu), posted a YouTube link on Facebook about Susan Boyle's performance on the show "Britain's Got Talent". After you type Susan Boyle in the search bar on YouTube, you should choose the first video; it is 7:08 minutes long, because it contains her pre-performance build-up as well. Here we learn that Susan is 47, and from a small cluster of villages somewhere in Britain. She has a double chin and is matronly plump. When she is asked who she wants to be like and says "Elaine Paige", you can almost hear the sniggers in the audience, while the camera cuts to looks of disbelief on the judges' faces (Amanda Holden, Piers Morgan and Simon Cowell, the latter of American Idol fame) and then to a teen in the audience rolling her eyes. Elaine Paige is considered by many to be the "First Lady of British Musical Theatre" and became famous when she played Eva Peron in the musical "Evita". Her signature song is "Memories" from the musical "Cats".

Susan Boyle however decides to sing, "I Dreamed a Dream" from the musical, "Les Miserables". Just before she starts to sing, the camera pans once more across the judges and the audience; you can sense their weariness and their thoughts, "here is one more talentless, over-the-hill woman taking her shot at 1 minute of stardom". And then she sings. It's difficult to describe what happens next in words...so it's best if you see the video yourselves. The best part of the video however is seeing the incredulous looks on the judges' faces when they realize that here is a woman who can actually sing and that too with a voice perhaps as good as Elaine Paige's.

Malcolm Gladwell in his book "Blink" writes about the pitfalls of making presumptuous, instantaneous decisions based on our "gut" feel. As in Susan Boyle's case, we are so tuned to our woman singers being sexy and young (no thanks to MTV, etc), that we intuitively make a call about someone's singing talent based on her looks and appearance. And many of us have a lot of trouble differentiating between "good-looking" and "good-sounding" voices.

In "Blink", Mr. Gladwell further goes on to talk about how women would hardly feature in classical orchestras, some years ago, because it was assumed that they just couldn't play the instruments as well as men. It was only when curtains were put in front of the performers during auditions, and the judges had no clue who the person playing was...man, woman, white, black, etc, that women started getting selected and now account for 50% of all orchestra players.

To further drive home this point; type "Paul Potts" in a YouTube search bar and select the third video that says, "Paul sings Nessun Dorma". See his pre-performance build-up; his lack of confidence, the plump face with bad front-teeth; a salesman in a mobile phone shop in a town in Britain, who wants to be an opera singer. All you need to do is to hear his tenor voice once, to understand what I am talking about.

In the days when radio was king and there was no television, it was only the "voice" that mattered and this worked very well for all the singers of the previous generation. Today, when television rules, the paradigms are different; average, but good-looking singers are usually more successful than great, but "not-so-good" looking ones. So I ask the question again. How beautiful should a voice look?

Posted by bhavinj at 08:25 AM | Comments (0)

April 11, 2009

It Takes Guts!

My generation has always been eternally cynical. When it comes to voting, politicians and elections, this is even more pronounced.

So what are the options available to us during an election?
1. Not vote
2. Go to the voting booth and then decide not to vote (Rule 49 O).
3. Do research and find out the most honest / best candidate among the ones standing and then cast your vote for that candidate, irrespective of his/her party affiliation
4. Convince an appropriate candidate to stand
5. Stand for elections yourself

The first is a real option that can be exercised in a democracy. The second is rubbish and a quick Internet search will reveal why. The third used to be difficult because adequate knowledge of a candidate, his/her performance, assets, past scandals, etc used to be difficult to obtain, but is much simpler these days due to the widespread availability of information on the web and websites that now track the candidates quite rigorously and religiously. The fourth and fifth are tough, especially for the vast middle-class in this country, which unfortunately has the least say in how this country is run.

And so, when a PLU (person/people like us) stands for election, you sit up and notice.

When Mona called three weeks ago to say that she was standing for the MP election from South Mumbai, as a candidate of the Professionals Party of India (PPI), which incidentally I had never heard of (and none of my friends and family had either), I had no clue how to react.

My first thought was. Wow!

Because...it takes guts to do something like this!

Mona is an ophthalmologist, and like most doctors, a daily wage earner, who earns only when she sees patients. It takes guts to put all that on hold for 30-45 days and campaign. Forget the loss of income and practice; you need to spend money to run a campaign; letters, posters, travel, meetings...all come with real costs. And when you don't have a party behind you that is spending on your behalf, this becomes even more of an issue, since you need to spend your own money. Mona has two young school-going daughters, who need constant parenting. She has a household and a husband to take care off as well. Like all middle-class mothers in their late 30s and 40s, she is already on oxygen, gasping for air, juggling multiple responsibilities and just running to stay in the same place.

And then she decides to contest to be an MP from South Mumbai.

To my mind, there can be no better person to manage a constituency than a multi-tasking, middle / upper-middle class mother in her late 30s/early 40s, who is used to handling twenty problems and issues at the same time, while staying steady with her feet on the ground with her sanity intact. In fact, maintaining a constituency and representing it in Parliament, would be much simpler and easier. And the icing? She is just like you and me and understands our middle-class issues.

Mona Patel Shah. I am not from your constituency and unfortunately cannot vote for you. But I am proud that a doctor and a working mother has had the guts to take a stand and do something about issues that all of us just crib about all the time, without actually doing anything. I don't care if you win or lose (obviously I fervently hope you win), but you've already made a difference and become a role model...just by standing. All the best!

Posted by bhavinj at 12:15 PM | Comments (0)

April 04, 2009

The Republic of South Bombay

This confidential letter landed on our news-desk two days ago. Though there was no letterhead, we believe that it came from someone close to the "Powers that Be", who run are country. It was addressed to a gentleman from Colaba, who shall remain anonymous for everyone's sake.

"Dear Mr. ____.

The letter that we received on 20th March 2009 was the 26th letter from you on this subject, in the last two years. We haven't replied to you because for quite some time, we've all believed that you've been sending these letters only to lighten up our lunch hours. However after you've started attaching signatures from prominent citizens in support of your cause, we now think that you are truly serious about the matters raised in your letters.

Before things go out of hand and you get into trouble, we would like to tell you what the ground realities are.
1. No. Mumbai cannot end at Worli.
2. No. We can't rename South Mumbai as the Republic of South Bombay.
3. No. We cannot issue visas for travel beyond Worli in both directions.
4. No. Just because Pedder Road is going to be one way for 30 days, we cannot temporarily redraw the boundary of South Mumbai to end at Kemp's Corner. You actually managed to get 10,000 signatures for...this?
5. Just for your information. Charkop is not Charminar's sister in Hyderabad and Dahisar is not a superior form of yoghurt.
6. A small geography lesson. South Mumbai also includes all areas to the east of Raja Ram Mohan Roy Rd, including Khetwadi, Bhuleshwar, Bhendi Bazaar and Mazgaon. That these areas don't jell with "South Mumbai's state-of-mind" is irrelevant. The world is not a Billy Joel song.
7. No. Alibag's beachfront and the sea between the Gateway of India and Alibag are not part of South Mumbai.
8. No. Khandala cannot be South Mumbai's winter capital.
9. No. Bandra, including Pali Hill cannot be a satellite state like Pakistan and Bangladesh were at one time. It does not matter if you have 5000 signatures from Pali Hill residents.
10. No. Just because you want the Dhirubhai Ambani school to be part of South Mumbai, you cannot open the Republic of South Bombay's consulate in its premises.
11. No. 1900s will never reopen. Nor will Studio 29. Rang Bhavan however might have a chance one day.
12. No. Navynagar cannot be converted into South Mumbai's very own International Airport.
13. No. Members of Willingdon Gymkhana and CCI who live beyond Worli cannot be summarily removed.
14. No. Rugby cannot become South Mumbai's national sport.
15. No. Just because Freddie Mercury was born in Colaba, "Bohemian Rhapsody" cannot become South Mumbai's Anthem.

One of our secretaries in the office, who sometimes has thoughts along similar lines, but from the perspective of a certain state in Eastern India has asked you to think about this. The population of people from the Land of Darkness is quite substantial in South Mumbai, though these cooks, chauffeurs and menservants are probably invisible to you. If they were to elect the Great Socialist as your Prime Minister (and he would probably have a landslide win), you can be rest assured that the Republic of South Bombay will go from a Maximum City to a Land of Darkness faster than you can finish Mr. Suketu Mehta's opus. No wonder it was Mr. Adiga who won the Booker.

Hope this takes care of all your queries and issues.

With regards

An Anonymous Well-Wisher"

Posted by bhavinj at 05:26 AM | Comments (0)

March 28, 2009

The Failing Body Waits for No One

Last Tuesday, this paper's lead by Vikas Hotwani was about a banker who developed tinnitus (ringing in the ears) after going to a disco/pub. Actually, the only unusual thing I found about the episode was the banker's relatively young age.

A couple of years ago, my niece and her husband, who are in their late 20s and live in London, were visiting Mumbai. They wanted to experience our city's nightlife, so we first had dinner at Seijo and then went down to Poison, a discotheque in the same premises.

The music was essentially some kind of trance music, which went "dhad dhad dhad" for the entire time that we were there. I found it quite boring after the first half hour, but since my cousins were having a great time, we stuck on. When we left, two hours later, I had a ringing in my ears, which I often used to get in my younger days after rock concerts or disco visits but would usually disappear in a few minutes. This time, the ringing didn't go away and persisted till noon the next day. When I checked with the ENT, she said that this was because the loud music had killed a few of my inner ear cells and she warned me that this would only get worse with each exposure to loud music. I haven't been to a disco since then.

When I was younger, there were only three ways to listen to Zep, Sabbath and Purple. Loud. Louder. Loudest. I was obviously damaging the inner ear cells even then (my wife insists I am deaf since I need the volume to be really loud when I am watching television), but it didn't matter then. Now, in my mid-40s, it makes a big difference. I'm not getting any younger and those dead cells won't regenerate and I want to be able to preserve my hearing as much as possible.

Heart attacks, stroke and cancer are the big life-changing experiences, which usually bring us face-to-face with our mortality. But in our 40s, these still happen to a small minority. What becomes evident gradually though, is the slow but definite and inevitable deterioration of various parts of our bodies. We can't pull in all-nighters the way we could when we were in our 20s; we need to sleep more than before; we can't run as fast as we could earlier; we can't hold down our alcohol as well; our joints start creaking; vague aches and pains start troubling us without notice...I'm sure you can add to this list.

Most of us live in some form of denial, until some incident occurs that makes us face the truth of our failing bodies. For me, this was brought home when I found one fine day that to read the newspaper, I had to place it farther away than usual or I had to remove my myopia-correcting spectacles. There is even a saying in Gujarati for this, "chaalis pachi betaara" (after forty, you see double). Hypermetropia, the medical term for this condition, invariably affects most people once they enter their 40s, leading to the need for reading glasses or bifocals or progressive lenses.

A few days ago, one of our dailies had a front-page feature on how our mental capabilities start going down after the age of 27. I presume that this applies even to our physical capabilities. So, if you're older than 27...welcome to our "over-the-hill" world. And morbid as this sounds, remember that it will only get worse.

Posted by bhavinj at 09:29 AM | Comments (0)

March 21, 2009

The 'Foot-in-Mouth' Syndrome

In medical terminology, this is a syndrome that describes the art of saying the inappropriate thing at the inappropriate time.

I was struck by this disease earlier this week, during my cousin sister’s pre-wedding “sangeet”, when I was introduced to one of the groom’s relatives. I suddenly remembered being told a couple of weeks ago that this person was soon going to get married. I immediately congratulated him, only to see the “congrats” being accepted quite grudgingly. My cousin quietly took me to one side and told me that this person’s marriage had been called off just a few days ago. I discovered later that everyone in the family had known about this, but somehow this fact had fallen through the cracks where I was concerned. The embarrassment was considerable, and I landed up being both, a foot-in-mouth victim and a foot-in-mouth perpetrator.

Weddings and parties are common breeding grounds. A few years ago, I was at the wedding reception of one of the people who work in my office. We had just finished dinner and were going towards the exit when we ran into the groom’s father. There had been no dessert in the dining room and thinking that perhaps there was a separate room for the sweet-dishes, without thinking, I immediately asked him where the ice-cream was. Apparently they had decided not to keep any ice-cream during the reception and everyone was suitably red-faced. My wife actually kicked me from behind in an attempt to make me stop from making a further ass of myself.

One of my favorite foot-in-mouth quotes is this statement that earned Naomi Campbell, the British supermodel, a “Foot-in-Mouth” Annual Award. “I love England, especially the food. There's nothing I like more than a lovely bowl of pasta.”

But my mother of feet-in-mouths happened a couple of years ago in Berlin. I have a German friend called Claus von…... Though he lives elsewhere, he knows Berlin quite well and he offered to drive me around the city to show me some of the interesting sites. We then settled down for a white asparagus dinner watered down initially by beer and then by some lovely white wine. As we got more spirited, he started talking about the life that his grand and great-grandparents used to lead, as aristocrats in Germany in the early 1900s. The conversation then continued onto World War II. Suitably emboldened by the beer and wine, I finally asked him "Why is it that none of you aristocrats ever stood up to Hitler?"

Of all the millions of people in Germany, he was the last person I should have ever asked this question to. He laughed…and he laughed…and he laughed. Finally, he asked me to tell him again what his last name was. I said “von Stauffenberg, why?” I consider myself quite smart, but this must have been one of my densest moments in living memory. As depicted by Tom Cruise, von Stauffenberg was the key driver in Operation Valkyrie, which was the plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. This “von Stauffenberg” was Claus’ grand-father. Anyway, when finally my tubelight flickered on, I just gaped, trying to suck in some air to prevent drowning in the glass of water in front of me. As we say in Hindi, “mujhe chulloo bhar pani mein doob jana chahiye tha.”

Posted by bhavinj at 07:41 AM | Comments (0)

March 14, 2009

Even Our Airlines Can Surprise You...Pleasantly At Times

Last week, in a brand development meeting, the executives pitching to us used one of the popular airlines in India as an example of great customer service. I differed in my opinion and thought that the competitive airline was much better. We all came up with our favorite examples. Mine are listed below; let’s see if you can find the clues that identify this airline.

About 2 years ago, I had to go to Nagpur on a Sunday morning to lecture to a crowd of 300 people. I went to sleep only at 2.00AM, after a late-night show of Parineeta (Ms. Vidya Balan’s to blame for this). The alarm went off at 4.30AM, but I put it off, thinking I would wake up in another 10 minutes. The next thing I knew, it was 6.30AM and the flight was at 7.00AM. I threw some clothes into my laptop bag, put on my previous night's clothes, got my wife into the car, and then drove like a mad man to the airport. My wife managed to get through to a supervisor at 6.37AM and explained the whole predicament. At 6.45AM I was at the airport and was pleasantly surprised to find a supervisor waiting at the counter with my boarding pass. He then also took the trouble to accompany me right through security and though disheveled and unshaven, I made it to Nagpur.

A few months ago, at around 2.00PM, on my way from Mysore to the new Bangalore airport, my SUV taxi hit a woman and fractured her ankle. When I got off to see what was happening, the driver gave me my precious blue and yellow laptop bag and ran away. It took another hour for a new taxi to come from Mysore. I was in touch with the airline supervisor all the way; she rescheduled the 5.30PM to 6.30PM and then to the 8.30PM flight. At 8.00PM, we were still half an hour away, but the taxi driver put everything he had into the car and got me there at 8.25PM. Like Aamir from Dil, I vaulted over the fence, cut through the line at the entrance and reached the counters to find the supervisor waiting with the boarding pass; she accompanied me right upto the boarding gates and I went through just in time. I made it, and I didn’t have to go red in the face to do so.

Last week, I had to go to Trivandrum for a lecture. Another airline’s flight that took off in the pre-sunrise, orange-tinged sky at 5.30AM landed only at 11.45AM, delayed by 2 ½ hours. My return was by the 1.30PM flight of my regular airline. I had to go to the venue, which was a good 20 minutes away, deliver a 45 minutes lecture and then get back in time. Before I got out of the airport, I contacted the supervisor, who assured me that if I got back till 1.25PM, she would make sure that I would get on. I was in constant touch with her and luckily made it back by 1.15PM. I made it back to Mumbai.

I believe that there is only one airline in India today that can make this possible and supervisors and managers like Aakruti in Mumbai and Vrinda in Trivandrum make all the difference. Of course, the brand executives did not agree, but then that was a meeting where we had all agreed to disagree anyway.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:59 PM | Comments (0)

February 28, 2009

It's Not Just About Rs. 90

It’s just Rs. 90, but the request stops you cold. You think it’s a joke and walk in. A couple of hours later, you come out and hand over the valet slip. You are asked to pay Rs. 90. Incredulous, you blurt out, “You’re kidding, right?” But you already know they’re dead serious and so you hand over Rs. 100. Your car comes and the man returns with your valet slip and a Rs. 10 note. In disgust, you ask him to keep the Rs. 10 as well. You get into the car and drive away, with an irritated feeling that’s difficult to explain, but makes you wonder why a hotel of this standard has to behave in a manner that completely spoils the mellow tranquility of good company, food and wine.

And while you keep chewing on this incident all through the ride back home, a couple of neurons suddenly fire away and the truth of why they charge Rs. 90 and not Rs. 100 dawns on you. “It’s the tip, you fool”, your charged mind tells you. Some manager has probably realized that irritated or not, the chances are that you will not take back the Rs. 10, and thus the drivers will not be deprived of the usual tips that valet drivers in other hotels get.

Your wife thinks it may be a temporary phenomenon. It’s a new hotel and probably still finding it’s feet. But when you go a month later and hand over the car keys to the valet, you realize that your wife was sorely mistaken. It rankles and irritates.

You talk about this with your friends, some of whom are aghast, some amused. Some go to the hotel, just to see for themselves, whether this is true. Some are annoyed and others pass it off as an American idiosyncrasy. For some, “its just Rs. 90, forget it!” but many others are upset and say, “they have serious guts to take Rs. 90 after I’ve spent a good four-figure sum on the food.”

I must be honest though. The first time I went to the Four Seasons on E. Moses Rd in Worli, I was so upset that I refused to get into the car and went to see the lobby manager in charge. He was probably so used to this by now that he didn’t miss a beat with his polite answer, “Sir, we are different. We are the Four Seasons. We believe that each service has to stand on its own.” I looked at him, completely at a loss for words (which as you know by now is a big deal for me) and before I could come up with an apt retort, he said “And believe me sir, every hotel in Mumbai will start imitating us soon.” I couldn’t believe his guts and I just turned around and left. The Taj, the Oberoi, the ITC Grand…they will start charging for valet? The very thought...

The funny thing is that when I got out of San-Qi, I just couldn’t wait to tell all my friends about the great multi-flavored edamame and the brilliant vegetarian makis. The Rs. 90 incident just blew that thought away. And at least till six weeks ago, nothing had changed.

And I sometimes wonder, whether the reason why Phoenix is so popular as compared to Crossroads earlier and Atria now, is due to the simple fact that Phoenix does not charge for parking, whereas Crossroads used to and Atria does!

One wonders!

Posted by bhavinj at 02:19 PM | Comments (0)

February 21, 2009

Life in a Facebook World

Five midnights back, I was awoken by an SMS from a friend that warned about the dangers of the new changes that Facebook (FB) had made to its Terms of Service (TOS). The implication was "THE WORLD IS GOING TO END". The next day saw similar emotional outbursts on FB. This was an EMERGENCY to end all EMERGENCIES! And what was the issue? That FB would have the right to user content, even after an individual had deleted his/her profile. After this WORLDWIDE protest, which also received a first page mention in the TOI, FB recanted and went back to the old TOS two days later. All very great and power to the people, etc, but dear Gurmukh, was this worth spoiling my precious sleep?

As a community of friends, FB is the best of the lot, especially for most of us middle-aged Indian fogies who have now achieved critical mass online as well as on FB. The amazing ability that FB provides to reach out to friends became really evident two weeks ago when I posted a query on the FB Wall asking for suggestions for a new piece for this column and virtually instantaneously received responses describing a variety of topics, including one related to FB (thanks Durga).

As the cliche goes, "man is a social animal". This is no better evident than in the various communities and groups that are popular online. Even as far back as 1994, in the dark old ages of the Internet, the India-D Listserv group connected Indians in the US, and each day saw both flame-wars and new friendships being forged. The more we are online, the more we actually want to connect with old friends and perhaps make new ones and this is FB's USP.

Once I found that my wife had joined FB, I didn't have a choice but to quell my innate resistance to social networking sites and I followed her into FB last month. Within two days I had found at least 30 odd people who I knew well, including a 15-year old nephew, who had no qualms letting me into his online life. I've also learnt since that a couple of friends have become single again, I have figured out when not to use the Wall and when to communicate privately and have also practiced and learnt the meaning of "unfriending", which is a word that describes the act of removing someone, who you no longer want to be friends with, from your friends’ list.

Perhaps the best part of FB is its Twitter-like feature, where active friends keep updating their current status; and so you learn that "A is in Delhi, wondering whether I'll make my appointment", "B is having a bad hair day", "C is just waiting for the weekend to unwind", "D is going to the Valentine party alone" or my favorite, "X is, just is". And you can also keep tabs on who your friends' friends are (especially my wife's...just in case).

Sometimes though, the Wall is not funny! Just last week, a Briton divorced his wife, by first announcing it on his FB Wall, which was perhaps a "first" not only for his wife, but also for FB.

For all of you’ll who think that this is all Greek and Latin, welcome to the new, connected world. And for those who are over-connected, it may not be a bad idea once in a while, to switch of your cell and Internet access and go back to being offline, alone. It helps maintain sanity.

Posted by bhavinj at 08:58 AM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2009

The "Penguin Law" Holds

Here's a new one for the school rule-book: "If you want parents during the Annual School production to stay till the very end and not leave once their child's part is done, you must put on a musical with penguins and make sure that each child wears a penguin mask".

Each year, a gaggle of parents collects at the front of the stage during the Annual Day musical in the Don Bosco quadrangle, waiting for their son (or daughter, depending on what their son is that day) to make his appearance on stage. As soon as that happens, all of them become camera trigger-happy hoping to catch their respective sons at the "right" moment.

This year, all these “parent-proud” Kodak moments had to take a pause.

Last week, Don Bosco staged the musical, Happy Feet, which as most of you know, is all about penguins. Though the kids all spoke in human voices, except for a few cardboard fish that were shown as food, everyone on stage was a penguin. In a penguin suit. With a penguin mask. All the kids looked the same; they looked like penguins.

So here's where the parents had a problem. Except for the main cast of about 6-7, who obviously were "known" kids, the rest of the 200-300 odd penguins on stage, the "extras" and "dancers", were unidentifiable. Sure they came in different shapes and sizes and depending on their class, had different color patches on the front of their suits, but it was still virtually impossible to spot their sons.

Which was both, an advantage or a disadvantage depending on the parents' outlook. If their sons had not been cast in the production, the parents could still click a couple of photographs of the penguins and point to any one of the penguins proudly as their sons. If however the parents actually wanted to know for sure which penguin was their son, they had to wait till the very end, when all the penguins/kids finally took off their masks, during the credits. And even then, if the son was short and thin, it was still difficult to spot him in the huge crowd of penguins on stage.

And what a stage that was. It was up for at least a week before the production, stretching all the way from one end of the quadrangle to the other, with sloping ramps and convoluted passages, painted in white to simulate a snowy Arctic environment, with a faux-sea at the bottom with cardboard fish. In the evenings, my kids used to have a ball on the stage, playing "hide-and-seek", while using the ramps as slides to move deftly from one level to another.

My son was one of the penguins. My wife was the trigger-happy parent. From the rehearsals, we knew where he would be standing during his two songs, but even then it was difficult to spot him. Once he was unmasked, she did what all helicopter moms do these days - hovered over all possible vantage points to get as many pictures and videos as possible.

Now that we know that this law works really, really well, perhaps other similar musicals can be tried in the subsequent years
1. The Lion King - there will be different animals, but put them in masks and the parents will stay till the end
2. Madagascar - same logic as Lion King
3. Bee movie - all kids dressed as bees
I guess the list is endless

Posted by bhavinj at 09:02 AM | Comments (0)

February 07, 2009

The Screams of Rock On

Exactly 2.51 minutes into the album version of "Pichle saat dinon mein", which starts with "Meri laundry ka ek bill", Farhan Akhtar, in typical rock-star fashion, screams out the word "roya" at the end of the line "kabhi khud pein hasa main aur kabhi khud pe roya".

My twins know exactly when that scream will occur and while singing along with Farhan, they too, strumming on their imaginary guitars, slung over the tummies, get that scream just right.

Having miserably failed in my attempts to inculcate an understanding of rock music in my 9-year olds over the last year or two, it's amazing how Farhan has been able to effortlessly get through to them; all it needed was one viewing of "Rock On" and a playing of the CD a couple of times at home and in the car.

It's quite funny. When we are all together in the car, there is an invariable tussle about the kind of music to play. My wife and kids want to listen to the latest Hindi film songs, whereas I usually want to put on my classic rock compilation. No guesses for who prevails and we always land up listening to whichever Hindi film songs are the current flavor of the month. On the rare occasion that I am actually allowed to exercise a choice, the kids immediately start wailing in the background "Dad...can we listen to something better?" It doesn't matter whether I am playing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" or Floyd's "Comfortably Numb"...the kids' reaction is always the same.

I haven't quite been able to figure this out, but I guess their affinity for Hindi film music has to do with comfort levels and what they are exposed to day in and day out, at home, in school, in their friends' houses and in the neighborhood. Hindi films songs are ubiquitous and pore out of every possible musical orifice in our environment; be it FM, Worldspace, television, the car stereo, elevator music, background music in restaurants, clinics, hospitals, during birthday parties and from Ganesh and other religious pandals.

The rule of Hindi film music is now complete. Time was, in the 80s, that all parties and "socials" had only English dance music mixes and if anyone even thought of dancing to Hindi film music, he/she would be an instant outcast. Today, it is a rare party where you hear English songs...it's much simpler and faster to get the dance floor alive with the remix version of any popular Hindi song as compared to an English number.

And yet, I don't really despair. Even when I was growing up, it was all about Hindi film songs; AM radio, Binaca Geetmala on Radio Ceylon, Chhaya Geet on Doordarshan and cassette tapes. My first exposure to rock was when I was way into my late teens after I had joined junior college, starting with the Beatles, but quickly moving onto Tull, Led Zep, Sabbath, etc.

What Farhan Akhtar and Shankar Ehsaan Loy have done is to kick-start my kids' appreciation of rock as part of a routine Hindi music phenomenon. To me that's terrific, the language be damned.

The funny thing is that their favorite "Rock On" number, the one where they love to jump and scream through the entire song, has not been sung by Farhan, but is actually the sole Suraj Jugan number called "Zehreelay", a snake-idiom parody. If Farhan's numbers are more Deep Purplish, "Zehreelay" is actually Metallica or AC/DC. So go figure the kids' choice!

Posted by bhavinj at 04:33 AM | Comments (0)

January 31, 2009

Through Someone Else's Looking Glass

Sometimes, when we see ourselves through others’ eyes, it can be quite a revelation; especially when what those others’ see are dancing bar girls, cavorting around you and I.

Three years ago, I was in Raipur, along with two other colleagues from Mumbai, lecturing at a State level professional meeting. After we reached the hotel, the organizing secretary proudly told us that he had arranged some really exciting entertainment at night, which he was sure, would not disappoint us. We expected an orchestra or perhaps a ghazal session to accompany the dinner buffet, as is usually the case at such meetings.

Around 9.30PM, with dinner well underway, one of the organizers came on stage and announced the start of the anticipated event. Through the haze of a thick fog of liquid ice, a woman, dressed in a tight, bright, plasticky dress, started slithering and gyrating to one of the popular “dhin-chak” numbers of that time. Apparently, the great piece of entertainment that we were so breathlessly awaiting, was…get this… “dancing bar girls”!

Within half an hour, all the women and children had left. As we too were making our way back to the rooms, we ran into the chief organizer who asked us whether we were enjoying ourselves. Without waiting for a reply he said, "I couldn't get dancing bar girls from Mumbai (this was around the time they were banned), so I arranged them from Nagpur" and then without batting an eyelid, came his kicker, "But I guess this must all be so routine for you...do these girls meet the high standard of the ones you normally see in Mumbai?"

Routine? High standard? Dancing bar girls? I personally have never been to one of these bars, but I couldn’t care less if this is how some people get their highs (which I guess would be both literally and figuratively). My problem is that our hosts in Raipur actually, truly believed that our main form of entertainment in Mumbai was to go and see dancing bar girls. For a long time I tried to understand why they would form such impressions and I could only guess that this may be due to a combination of Bollywood movies, reality shows, television soaps and Ms. Rakhi Savant’s media antics. It is so easy to form such weird impressions of people and places; even today, many people who have never been to the US firmly believe that it is a land of easy XXX chicks, eagerly waiting for us outside JFK, the moment we disembark.

I thought this was an isolated incident. However, the more I narrated this story to other colleagues and peers, the more it became clear that this was becoming a routine phenomenon, which became quite clear when I was in Patna two weeks ago attending our National level conference. Each night for three nights, for entertainment, there was an orchestra along with dancing bar girl types in low-cut cholis and ghaghras, swaying to the usual "beedi jalaile" numbers. This time, three years later, even the women and children hung on, without any embarrassment, almost as if such shows have now become a way of life.

At the cost of sounding repetitive; dancing bar girls surely have their place in the scheme of things, serving the needs of a specific target population. But when they start occupying the top of the non-cinema, non-television entertainment pyramid, perhaps it’s time for some soul-searching and interrogation?

Or maybe it’s just me being naïve?

Posted by bhavinj at 04:02 AM | Comments (0)

January 24, 2009

Open-Air Haikus

"Simple soft leaves
And branches holding them
Hey, don't pluck them"

This is a haiku that my 8-year old daughter wrote, with help from her guide (thanks Anita), under a large tree, in one of the "Five Gardens".

When I was 8-years old, I didn’t even know what a haiku was, let alone trying to write one and understanding its rules and cadences. Is this the same generation I talked about last week that is supposed to be living in a digital world? Or are these a different bunch of kids who will embrace everything equally and turn out to be more holistic that today’s 20-somethings and 40-somethings?

The haiku writing was part of a multi-weekend art and writing course called “The Flying Carpet” that my twins have enrolled in. To make the exercise really interesting, the haiku writing and painting were conducted in one of the Five Gardens, in the open-air. Though activities like these are extremely common in the Western world, we rarely find our public spaces being used for such purposes; there aren't too many gardens around and those that are available are often just too crowded or dirty or sometimes just not open to the public.

The Five Gardens have no such restrictions. Nestled between Wadala, Matunga and Dadar, they provide much-needed greenery to the residents of these central suburbs and are an integral part of the daily lives of a large number of people, having something for everyone, throughout the day. To illustrate this, in haiku…

In the mornings,
"Walkers, show-offs
Seniors and their bowel-talk
Breathing the air"

As afternoon comes...
"Stragglers catnap
The rhythm of life ebbs
And lovers hide"

And in the evening...
"Children on slides
Balloons and cheap China toys
Horse rides in traffic"

The commonest activity is walking. Some walkers are serious, some are just out for the fresh air and some use the perimeter as a place to preen in and to be seen. The central garden is out of bounds, but the other four are open to all. One of the gardens has decaying and decrepit slides and swings, but is still very popular with the kids and goes full in the evenings. Outside this garden are the horse-rides and toy-vendors. The other three are used for a variety of activities including football, cricket, exercising, sleeping and sky gazing. The railings are popular too, used mainly by teenagers, who again are often just hanging around, doing nothing really in particular, chatting, smoking and sometimes eating from the food-carts, which in turn are quite popular at night for those out for a quick bite. Lovers find their small, little niches as well and though some well-meaning, “social-worker” types have often tried to curb their “menace”, inventive couples always find a way of coming back. Let’s face it; they are also an important part of the scenery.

The whole essence of this verdant circle of circles can be summed up in 14 syllables.
"Five green gardens
Circles of vibrant life
One lung, one thought"

Posted by bhavinj at 09:31 AM | Comments (0)

January 17, 2009

LOL???....Ha! ROFL!!

Within two hours of my joining Facebook, my 20-something nephew wrote on my wall.
N: "really din expect u here mamu...welcome..."
I retorted : "Why? Is this a hangout for only 20-somethings?"
N came back with: "oh no not at all...rather i wud say u can fake ur age here n enjoy ur freetime...dreams are definitely better than reality..."
I: "But why would I want to do that! The 40s are the best times to be in."
N wittily (my niece actually thought he was wittier): "that means the past 4 decades werent good..lol (lol means laugh out loud)..."

What piqued me at this stage was the fact that my nephew seriously thought he had to explain what "lol" meant to a 40-something like me. This was the instinctive, automatic reaction of a 20-something believing that today's 40-somethings don't really get it!

He’s not entirely wrong, though! My generation is a sandwiched generation. There were no computers in school; neither in junior college; nor in graduate or post-graduate college. I first came across a PC in 1991...it was a 286 with a 5"floppy drive and storage of a few MBs. DOS was the operating system and everything was done in Wordstar or Lotus. From then on, I caught on fast, but for many of my peers, the wait to get introduced to PCs was even longer.

Irrespective of how tech-savvy we might all be today, our minds are just not wired the same way as those of the 20-somethings who have grown up with PCs as part of their school, college and everyday lives.

And funnily, their minds are also wired differently from those of my 8-year old twins, who have no concept of a non-digital world. We used to play gully cricket, "thappa", "gotis" and sometimes spin tops. My kids play "thappa" as well, but marbles and spinning tops have gone the way of the 286. For them, the IMac at home, the Wii and all similar gadgets are part of the furniture. Even without training, they can navigate their way around any device, including a universal remote, which my wife, even after multiple rounds of patient explanation, just can't get. It's all about the neural networks that are laid down early in life. Ours are just different...

And, it’s not just about the hardware. I resisted joining Facebook for a long time, because I just couldn't get the whole "social networking" thing. Eventually, after my wife joined and a couple of others made it a point to keep asking why I wasn’t on Facebook, I succumbed and have now become one more of those million odd profiles, writing on people's walls, commenting on friends' comments, asking to be friends, approving friend requests, uploading photos, videos, links, adding links from this column, etc. I'm still not sure I quite get it, but since a few of my school and college friends are on FB, at least it’s a nice way of keeping in touch.

And I doubt I'll ever get Twitter. Why would anyone want to know what the other person is doing the whole day? I barely have the time to figure out what my right and left hands are doing as the day progresses, let alone having to bother about someone else's angst on having to spend five minutes extra outside the office toilet door.

Yet, despite all our differently wired brains, I did "gotcha" my nephew after his "lol" comment.
I replied: "rofl..."
N wrote back: "i give up..wats rofl".
I cud tell u, dudes, but m gonna let u get dis on ur own.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:48 PM | Comments (0)

January 10, 2009

The Lands of Darkness

According to the Wikipedia, the original "Land of Darkness" is the Forest of Abkhazia, popularized by the medieval writings of Sir John Mandeville, where God created an impenetrable darkness around the forest to trap the Persion Emperor Saures' army that was persecuting Christian subjects.

The "Land of Darkness" is now a popular phrase, coined by Mr. Aravind Adiga, in his novel, "The White Tiger", when referring to Bihar. The book is definitely readable, but like most "Western" centric, Booker-prize aimed, Indian author novels, it uses the shock value of life in poverty-stricken, cow-belt villages to get into the Western mind. This is a great marketing strategy for many Indian authors and if it comes with a Booker, then that's icing on the cake.

I am actually writing this from the Land of Darkness, specifically from Patna, sitting in a hotel room, with a working Tata Indicom wireless connection, facing the Mahatma Gandhi maidan, where a large number of men and women of all ages are walking, waddling and running, a scene that resonates with what Five Gardens in Dadar looks like in the morning hours. And thought Patna is like any other tier II/III city in India, with dusty roads, hanging wires and crumbling facades, poorly connected by air, with a ramshackle airport and hotels that don’t recognize PAN cards as photo-IDs, people today, after the departure of the Great Socialist, feel safe, walk around freely and are out till midnight.

And yet sitting in the hotel room, reading today's, i.e. Thursday’s Times of India, I feel a gnawing pit in my stomach, as I realize that a small part of my earnings has just vanished without warning. The headline says "Satyam: A 7000 crore lie", followed by a description of the Darkness created by Mr. Raju Ramalinga, which knowingly or unknowingly, obviously needed some help from his management team, directors, auditors and various analysts. Imagine the Darkness that has suddenly enveloped those who had invested heavily into the company, or has covered like a shroud, its employees who seem to be staring into an abyss of unemployment with no possible job forthcoming in these recessionary times. Given the facts, I fervently hope that Satyam’s principal auditors are also soon consumed by a permanent Darkness for having allowed this to happen.

Then, as I put on the television to get a shriller picture from our loud financial journalists, there is news of the sacking of Mr. Durrani, Pakistan's National Security Advisor, for telling the truth about Kasab's nationality. Though Mr. Durrani lives in a country that has been perpetually hovering on the brink of Darkness, Pakistan is now slowly becoming a true Land of Darkness with the advancing Talibanization of large swathes of the nation.

In contrast, our terror-created Land of Darkness that was Kashmir, is now a Land of Light, more so after Mr. Omar Abdullah’s election. Though there were soldiers stationed on the road, every 100 meters or so, and the city looked right out of a 70s retro film set, when I went there last year, I found the people were upbeat and quite confident that the worst was over and those Dark times would never return. It is only a matter of time before the city is overrun by film posters showing shirtless, muscle-flexing Khans.

What contrasts. In the Lands of Darkness, there is light, while a guiding Light of the "India Shining" story has slipped into Darkness and worse, a country, whose destiny is inextricably linked with ours is slipping into a Darkness that will try and consume us as well. Such is the chakravyuh of life. Darkness to Light and Light to Darkness.

Posted by bhavinj at 09:03 AM | Comments (0)

January 03, 2009

What Olive and Indigo need to learn from "badam-nu-shaak" and "idli-stew"

I had a "must-attend" wedding reception to go to, at the Turf Club/Racecourse, on Monday. I also had a friend visiting from New York, with only Monday night to spare for dinner. To make the best of a complicated situation, we booked a table at the Racecourse Olive. The plan was to wish the couple and then walk across to Olive for dinner.

As luck would have it, in the late evening, my friend called to say that he was down with a bad cold and he wouldn't be able to make it. Disappointed, we canceled the table at Olive and decided to have a quick, light meal at the reception and to then call it an early night.

But fate usually has a trick or two kept in reserve, and in retrospect, it was downright amazing, how a supposed moment of disappointment could turn itself around and become a moment of pleasure. As things turned out, not only did we not miss going to Olive, we perhaps had a better dining experience, as well!

As soon as we finished wishing the couple, we made our way to the buffet. The layout itself was unassuming at first look, especially since most weddings these days anyway feature large spreads, with multiple tables or stalls serving a variety of different cuisines. However, once we started sampling the food, all comparisons ended.

In most weddings, irrespective of the cuisine, the food at all counters pretty much tastes the same; Punjabi, Punjabi Gujarati, Punjabi Chinese, Punjabi Italian...basically oil and masala drenched Punjabi food, with a slight twist, depending on the cuisine concerned. This one was different.

I am going to exaggerate a bit here, but that's just to push a point. Imagine having a Trattoria, a Golden Dragon, a Muthuswamy, etc, all in one food court. The risotto was actually better than in most so-called Italian restaurants; the pizza slices were just right; there was something called an "idli-stew" that I, of Matunga Udipi restaurant lineage, had never heard off or sampled before in my life; there was a divine "Indian" dish called "badam nu shak", which again was a first for me; there were above-average dim sums, in three flavors, including one great tasting Jain one...I can go on. We approached the cuisine like a tasting menu (Bellissima style, but without the wine pairing), trying just one little portion of each item, but I still had to pass over most of the Indian dishes, including the Amritsari dishes that my wife thought were the highlight of the spread, for lack of gastric space.

And imagine...this was all vegetarian, a good part of it Jain-compatible.

Sure, this kind of wedding spread doesn't come cheap. But then our fine-dining restaurants are also exorbitantly overpriced for a vegetarian dining experience that nowadays probably needs to be a little redefined and perhaps shaken up a bit; if this city has to depend only on mass wedding caterers (and perhaps Ms. Vijaya Venkat and her team to a certain extent) to invent and reinvent vegetarian dishes, then it is time that the Olives and Indigos of this city came up with better and more interesting vegetarian menus, like Alinea (www.alinea-restaurant.com) or Green Zebra (www.greenzebrachicago.com), which even though located in the US of A, present a vegetarian dining experience, that has no equal in this country.

Else, who knows! All interesting, vegetarian, fine-dining in Mumbai, may one day be available only at weddings or in Ms. Venkat’s lunch dabbas!

Posted by bhavinj at 09:02 AM | Comments (0)

December 27, 2008

What I Write About, When I Write About Running (with due respect to Mr. Murakami)

I once wrote about the shortage of running spaces in Mumbai and Matunga. This piece is about the “running” itself. I am not an expert runner, and have never participated in or won a race (unless you count primary school 100m races), but I do run regularly. And in a rare moment of star-like alignment, a bunch of things have come together.

I first started seriously running in the winter of 2002. Since then, I’ve been running irregularly regularly for the last six years, though I’ve never been able to bring myself to run a race. This year, after having successfully managed an “athai”, I decided to try the other extreme and registered for the half-marathon to be held on 18th January.

Yet, till the last week of November, I still wasn’t sure whether I would actually run the race. I normally run around 3 to 3.2 km in 30 minutes and anything more than this causes real pain. And so, I kept procrastinating; avoiding even thinking about the training for the 21 km race.

Then two things happened. I read Haruki Murakami’s “What I talk about, when I talk about running”. Three days later, the terror attacks happened.

Mr. Murakami is a Japanese fiction writer, whose work has been extensively translated into English and who I count as one of the top 10 authors of all time. His “running” book is autobiographical; Mr. Murakami started running when he started writing, in an attempt to exercise and has over the last 22 years run quite a bit, marathons included. I have millions of typed words to go before coming anywhere close to Mr. Murakami in writing prowess, but still; the writer-runner combination made me seriously think of starting the training for the half-marathon.
And now over the last month, I have been able to run longer and faster than ever before. Mr. Murakami got me started. The angst and anger are now the fuel.

Outwardly, we may also seem to have bounced back, but inside we are all still seething. People have been channelizing this angst in different ways; one friend is becoming an activist, another has gone into a Laphroaig haze and I've upped my running. Ms. Gina Kolata of the New York Times some time back wrote an apocryphal article on how Buddhist monks can run 300 kms by just chanting and meditating. I've started focusing on the anger; on the terrorists, on the events, on the enemy. This helps pump up the adrenaline and endorphins and over the last month, I've gone from running 3.2 kms in half an hour to 7.7 kms in one hour. I rest every other day to let the muscles recover, but then I am back on the ground again, pounding the mud relentlessly, arms swinging, focusing my thoughts into one singularity. It hurts badly at night; but as the old cliché goes, "no pain, no gain". All this may be coincidence, but it has helped. Hopefully I’ll be able to complete the half-marathon in under 3 hours. Hopefully; I run on mud, whereas the half-marathon is on concrete; I run at dusk, whereas the sun will be up by the time we are halfway through our race. And even if it takes more than 3 hours, one thing is sure; I am definitely going to complete the race.

And maybe, like me, the whole city should run. Run to show solidarity; to show the rest of the country and the world that we are capable of rising above all this together; that we are able to resist and overcome as we have done in the last two decades, all attempts to tear apart the fabric of our city. And those who can’t run, should come and cheer on the sidelines. Whichever way; on 18th January, the whole city should be out on the streets. That will be our statement to the world!

Posted by bhavinj at 08:20 AM | Comments (0)

December 13, 2006

Storm in a coffee cup

This has appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Expresso in my childhood days meant a frothy coffee with milk, halfway between a cappuccino and latte, that used to be served in movie halls and theatres. At home too, this was made on special occasions as a treat and like the new Bru ad, the fun was in getting the froth all over your face. Growing up, I then learnt to appreciate the dark decoction that Amma used to make, with milk and sugar, at least 10 shades better than similar stuff available in the Udipi joints in Matunga.

Traveling abroad in the mid-90s brought me in touch with Starbucks and I slowly learnt to differentiate my espresso from a ristretto. My all-time favorite drink however, remains the caramel macchiato, a signature Starbucks drink. Though, all the coffee I otherwise drink is black, without milk and sugar, the caramel macchiato, with vanilla, milk and caramel is the one exception.

Somewhere down the line, heavily influenced by Starbucks, came the Barista chain. The outlets were an immediate hit, with well-trained baristas who knew their coffee intimately. The Shivaji Park outlet has been my favorite. Sitting out, watching the world go buy, while sipping one Doppio after another, used to be a favorite past-time. This was the nearest Barista, until the one at Sion came up, a few buildings ahead of Sion Hospital. Despite this outlet being so near, it never had the ambience of the Shivaji Park outlet and the baristas were also less knowledgeable and though it hoped to be a coffee pit-stop for those on the way to the suburbs and beyond, it was never open early in the morning, when you were going to Lonavla or Pune and the take-away coffee, in any case, came in horribly thin cups, often too hot to hold properly, with lids that didn’t fit…I’ve spilt coffee on my lap at least twice.

A few years ago, on a trip to Dubai, I saw a Starbucks outlet and right next to it, a Barista outlet. It was a proud feeling, much like seeing a Jet Airways plane at Heathrow or Changi.

But, Barista never came to Matunga. CCD did. And how! When it started, it was the new kid on the block, loud (it still is), but with attitude, and obviously aimed at the college crowd. The coffee was cheaper, not as as good, especially the espressos, which were bitter and yucky. The service was slow and the food passable, and yet the college kids loved it. The juke-box was a hit, as was the outside seating, which also allowed girls to smoke.

And then Barista screwed up. It dropped its prices and started playing loud music. Instead of aiming higher, at the 40plus generation, which felt CCD to be too loud, they tried to become like CCD. And the last few times, I’ve been there, there seems to be a distinct deterioration of services…the baristas are undertrained, the espressos are bitter, granitas have not been unavailable and a couple of times, even the air-conditioning wasn’t working.

On the other hand, CCD has become more and more vibrant. Their espressos have improved, as has the food. They now sell their own brands of chips and cookies (my daughter loves their eggless chocolate chip ones). And most importantly, they sell specialty coffee powder (which, as I have earlier mentioned is far superior to the stuff locally available in Matunga), and now we even get single estate (like single malt) coffees, some of which are excellent, especially the new dark roast. It’s a pity the Monsoon Malabar is no longer available.

What does this have to do with Matunga? Most big brands don’t come to Matunga, because they don’t see potential. Barista didn’t see potential and CCD did. One is doing great and the other, at least for me, is no longer happening. Maybe there’s a lesson in there somewhere?

Posted by bhavinj at 11:19 AM | Comments (0)

December 03, 2006

Realty bites

This has been published today in the Mumbai Mirror.

I am still trying to recover from a shock I received last Sunday, which I still can’t stop talking about and really need to put in words as well. We had a meeting with a realty agent, when we overhead him talking with someone on the phone about his inability to arrange a flat for that person, at the earlier agreed upon rate of 20,000. After he finished his conversation, I asked him, whether he also handled flats in South Bombay. He looked at me quizzically and then explained, “Last month, a premium property in Five Gardens was quoted at Rs. 20,000 per sq foot and the owner has now upped it to Rs. 30,000 and my client is angry at me for this. What can I do?” he shrugged.

Thirty-frigging-thousand? 30 thousand…per sq. ft. …in Matunga? You have to be effing joking! But apparently this is not a joke! It seems that for some premium properties, these prices have become real. Its as if living in Matunga has achieved the same kind of status symbol for some people, as living on Peddar Road.

The exuberance of the stock-market and the subsequent real-estate boom would be able to explain some of the increased valuation. But in an area, where average prices have hovered around 10-12,000, to suddenly talk of 30,000 per sq ft, seems to be too big a jump to make sense.

Unless, Thomas Schelling is more right than even he would know. Last year around the same time, I had written about him and his game theory, which predicts that similar people tend to live together, thus explaining the formation of ghettoes and pockets based on religion, race or caste. Within a year, this has become even more pronounced in Matunga, which is now all about Gujjus and Kutchhis. Though I don’t have official numbers, it wouldn’t be a stretch if I were to put the Gujju/Kutchhi population in Matunga and the Greater Matunga area (parts of Sion, Wadala & Dadar) at around 90%.

So think about this! If you are an upper middle-class Gujju/Kutchhi living in the suburbs, and wanted to live in a place with PLUs (people like us), where would you want to shift to? Obviously…Matunga!. If you have lived your whole life in Matunga and now need a new house, because you and your brother have grown up and each of you wants his own space, where would you continue to live? Most likely, Matunga! Kind of like my sister and other people I know, who were born here, grew up here, studied here, married here and now even go to work here. In Matunga…the classic big village.

Where else would you have at least six good schools that would make any top 25 list in Mumbai, which makes it relatively easy to get admissions, unless of course you want to go to outside-Matunga schools or live in South Mumbai with its limited schools? Add 4-5 good science and commerce colleges, one medical college and two top-rated engineering colleges, all within a radius of about 2km and you get a combination that no part of Mumbai can beat.

With Sahakari Bhandar, Matunga Market and Chheda taking care of the shopping issues and Five Gardens, Maheshwari Udyan and a couple of other places giving us the open spaces that we need, the only things missing are, a large mall with good brands, a couple of fine-dining restaurants (though ITC Parel is almost our own backyard hotel) and a good multiplex with parking, which hopefully Aurora will become in the not-too-distant future.

The big brands have still not taken over the frontages on King’s Circle, but that is just a matter of time. And honestly, the reason Café Coffee Day rocks today and Barista is in suspended animation, can easily be traced to the fact the CCD has an outlet in Matunga and Barista doesn’t. And more about this..next week!

Posted by bhavinj at 10:52 AM | Comments (0)

November 26, 2006

Games kids play

This is in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Bouncing in the Jumping Jack/Moonwalker – Rs 10. Getting tattoos painted – Rs. 25. Swinging wildly on free swings – Priceless.

Young children are really funny. You can get them expensive toys, gift them Xboxes or PSPs or fancy, robot-like, multi-functional dolls, and yet they will often play for hours with just simple “vati-chamchis” or be happy kicking a cheap ball around. As happened this weekend, when we went to my daughter’s school, J B Vachha, which is in Five Gardens, for a fun-n-fair, which was interestingly called “Food Fiesta 2006”.

We first spent some time playing small table games, which were run by volunteers and students – small tests of skills involving throwing rings over soap bars and chocolates, or holding a wet brick with two fingers for a minute as well as games of chance, where you had to snare a hidden potato in a bowl of sand using fondue-like sticks (which the kids loved since they had just had their first taste of fondue a week ago), and black-jack like card-games. They eventually won three games’ coupons, which got them one small prize, and they promptly started fighting over this single item.

The Jumping Jack/Moonwalker has to be among the top-ten toy inventions ever. However agitated or uncontrollable the kids might be, whatever crazy mood they may be in, one look at these monstrosities and everything dissipates in the anticipation of being able to jump up and down with abandon. As a kid, I never had a chance to go into one of these (I am sure they didn’t exist) and as much as I would like to experience them, I know that at this age, no one is going to let me. After a little shoving and pushing (small kids really have no concept of queues), they managed to get their three-minutes tryst with the overblown balloon and had a blast.

We then made our way slowly from one end of the fair to the other, past stalls selling everything from clothes to glass baubles to fortune cookies. I actually bought two fortune cookies, trying to explain the whole concept to the kids. They loved the act of breaking a cookie, finding a piece of paper within, and then eating the cookie, but the fortunes were completely wasted on them. The tattoo-girl was also a great hit, but within minutes of getting them done, the tattoos were smudged by the clothes and bodies of the ever-increasing crowd.

And then there was food… frankies, chaats, pani-puris, kababs, corn, chicken-rolls, bhel, etc..., including Sabina with her gorgeous cakes and a divine banana tart.

We were having a great time, when we reached the end of the concourse. We were wondering what to do, when my daughter pointed out to the swings and slides, which are permanent fixtures in the school-ground, behind the cloth boundary of the Fiesta, which we promptly went past. The kids have finally learnt to swing on their own, without the need of an adult push (which was a pleasant surprise to me) and they kept swinging, as high as possible, competing with each other, sometimes in synchrony, sometimes off-sync, for a good 10 odd minutes, until I had to physically stop the swings to make them get off.

After we reached home, during the post-mortem, I asked them what they had liked the best…was it the games, the Jumping Jack/Moonwalker, the tattoos, the balloons (all of which had cost money), and without hesitation came the answer…the swings! (which had been totally free). Go figure!

Posted by bhavinj at 12:54 PM | Comments (0)

November 08, 2006

Bottlenecks to Progress

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

As Matunga becomes more and more crowded, with the insane increase in high-rises and cars, traffic is getting to be completely chaotic, with an exponential increase in travel times.

To understand this, let’s see how many bottlenecks now affect a simple route…say from Matunga gymkhana to the area behind Aurora theatre.Warning: Unless you are a hard-core greater Matungaiite, you might want just want to skip directly to the last paragraph.

Outside the Gymkhana, you can either take a right or a left.

If you turn left, the first bottleneck is at Matunga Market, which of course, is expected as always. Then, a little ahead, comes the new bottleneck, at the Post Office junction, due to the traffic coming from the Bhaudaji road extension. Past this, you then get stuck getting onto the Circle, where you often have no choice but to wait until the Amar Mahal signal turns red, to be able to ease into the consequent reduced flow of vehicles. Then comes the right turn on the Circle itself at the Anand Bhuvan signal, after which you have to quickly take a left turn onto the small Circle-to-Khalsa road. Sometimes, if the traffic is backed-up at the Adenwalla road signal, this can take a good 1-2 minutes. Once on this small road, idiots trying to go to the Natural ice-cream parlor can create another bottleneck, on your way to Rasna Panjab, where you then have to take a left.

Once here, the rest of the road is common even for the route described below.

If you turn right from the Gymkhana, you take a left at Ruia college upto to the main-road signal, where there is usually a wait of upto 7-8 cars, which can sometimes make you miss one turn. Past the signal, you have two choices. You can take a left at Adenwalla road and then drive past the no-entry VJTI right turn and take a right into the small lane, just before the Circle, to reach the Circle-to-Khalsa road. But since this small one-car-at-a-time lane is not a one-way street, if there is a car coming from the opposite side, you can get stuck for quite some time trying to negotiate your way.

The other choice is to go all the way straight upto the St.Joseph’s circle and take a left, where there is often a gridlock. If you manage to get past this, you then immediately hit the Wadala East signal, where unlike in the past, all the cars now want to take a right turn (due to the crazy township development in Wadala East) which leaves very little space to go straight. Once this is negotiated, it is then a nice, quick drive to Rasna Panjab, as in the old days.

Past Rasna Punjab, irrespective of how you’ve reached there, you again get stuck because of the double-parked cars outside Café Coffee Day and Classic. Past these, you take a right and then a left and again get stuck at Sahakari Bhandar, due to all the cars trying to either park there or leave from this new “Walmart of Matunga”. Only then are we home!

Bottom line: The price of progress seems to be increased travel time. Till the last couple of years, we always used to discount the time it took to travel from anywhere to anywhere, within Matunga and Wadala, since it never took more than 5-7 minutes. Now, it can take upto 15-20 minutes! I guess, we’re no longer a village, and progress just doesn’t seem like such a great thing anymore!

Posted by bhavinj at 12:13 PM | Comments (0)

October 26, 2006

Matungaiites Everywhere

This was in today's Mumbai Mirror.

How things have changed! Just a few years ago, Diwali was all about Chopda Pujans, fire-crackers and the rounds of Saal-Mubaraks on Bestu-Varas day, to my kakas, nana-nani, mamas, etc. all of whom thankfully live in the Greater Matunga area, in Wadala, Matunga and Sion.

After the Finance Ministry killed the relevance of Chopda Pujans, when April-March was compulsorily made the financial year for all businesses, things started changing. More and more, Diwali time became “holiday time”, even during the Diwali and Bestu-Varas days, with many families opting to stay away from the city.

The problem unfortunately, is that if you go to hill-stations like like Matheran or Mahabaleshwar or even beach-resorts like Goa, you are sure to find “half of Matunga” in these places. Honestly, it is very likely that your neighbor in the next room is from Matunga or has lived there or has in-laws there.

This Diwali, we split up our Diwali holidays into two short trips year, to areas we were absolutely sure would be devoid of all Matunga flavor.

The first trip was sans-kids, to the Maldives, where we landed up being the only Indian couple at the Taj Coral Reef and unlike the experience in most other tourist places, we were actually over-pampered by the predominantly Indian staff, as compared to the British, Italian and Japanese tourists. Talk of reverse discrimination! And of course, the corals and snorkelling were awesome.

Then, during the Diwali days, we decided to go off to Ahmedabad (at the airport alone, we met two Matunga families on their way to Goa...jeez!). On Sunday, the “dhoka” day, we went to Goyal’s water park (apparently better than Water Kingdom), which was virtually empty and the kids had a blast. In the evening though, we found Vishala to be very crowded, I guess, because locals just love eating out, Though fun, Vishala is now obviously a tourist-focused experience, with the puppet-shows, the "garba" area and of course the cross-legged eating on leaves with earthen crockery, but with average Gujju food. With another “average” experience at a very popular “thali” place on Monday, I realized that though people love eating out, this city still has a long-way to go in terms of the quality of the food and the fine-dining experience.

Overall though, Ahmedabad has become an amazingly vibrant city, both in the inner-city “pol” areas, as well as in the newer parts. And despite our views about him in Mumbai, the locals think the world of Mr. Narendra Modi and give him full credit for this development.

The last evening was topped off with Don, which we all unanimously thought, (despite Khalid Mohamed and his colleagues) is far better than the old Don, which we had all seen the night before, both to refresh our memories and for the kids. The old Don honestly is a B-grade, badly edited and directed film, but is great fun because of AB, Pran and the dialogues, while the new Don…well, it just rocks! I wish I could write a review for all the contrarians.

So, once in a while, it is nice to be away from Matunga, both column-wise and physically. And the trick I’ve realized, is to either go away to really exotic destinations or to other big cities, which are themselves a little “empty”, because their inhabitants too have decided to go away to other touristy places, and yet are large enough to make it unlikely that you’ll meet another Matungaiite!

Posted by bhavinj at 10:58 AM | Comments (1)

October 16, 2006

Injured? You must go to Sion

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

A certain percentage of reader feed-back has always focused on the frivolousness of my writing. “I am sick of your rasam-idli. Do you know the plight of those who have been scammed by the South Indian Co-op Bank? Can’t you write about them?” And so on and so forth. Apart from the fact that what I write about is really nobody’s business, it is amazing how presumptuous people can get.

Having said that, when my dear friend Nobs Roy mailed me some stuff about Emergency Medical Services (EMS) in Mumbai (or rather the lack of), I thought I could use this opportunity to get serious.

Question: If you were to get seriously injured in a road-traffic accident, where would your best chances of survival lie?
a. Public hospital (Sion, KEM, etc)
b. Private hospital (Hinduja, Lilavati, etc)
The answer is (a). The public hospitals have round the clock services including emergency diagnostic and blood facilities, easy handling of police and legal inquiries and no risk of being denied treatment due to non-payment of bills. Virtually all specialties required to handle emergency care (orthopedic surgeons, general surgeons, neurosurgeons, anesthetists, radiologists) are available at all times. And among the public hospitals, Sion has perhaps the best EMS, simply because of the vision of the previous deans and surgeons who worked hard to make the EMS a well-oiled machine.

The problem in Mumbai, unfortunately, is of reaching the EMS services. A common medical fraternity joke is that the only difference between an ambulance and a hearse, is its color. In a city choked with vehicles and the complete absence of civic sense, it is virtually impossible for ambulances to reach any hospital in time. And even if ambulances are given way or are allowed to break signals, it is not uncommon to find a couple of cars behind the ambulance availing of this advantage as well! And so, the study conducted by Arvind Vatkar, Poonam Vaishnav, Pragnya Supe, Ritam Chowdhury and Sandeep Patil, found that only a third of emergency cases were brought in by ambulances. The rest came in police vans, taxis, private vehicles and some even on stretchers by foot.

It is a pity that a country that is supposed to be the next superpower and a city that is the financial capital of that country does not even have a basic EMS for the public. There is no single number to call and no coordinating authority to work with. If a person reaches the hospital in time, it is usually due to the timely arrival of a complete stranger, either the police or a passerby. And contrary to popular belief, the police were actually able to rescue people in about a quarter of accidents and then transported the victims in police vans to the hospital.

With the virtual absence of any kind of civic training in first-aid as well as trained paramedics (even if an ambulance manages to come to you, it is actually just a transportation mode with no trained personnel to handle accidents), about half of the victims receive no first aid on the way and the other receive inappropriate care, which is even worse.

Despite all this, the EMS at Sion Hospital does a great job. And though, as with most things in our daily lives, the authorities are completely useless in terms of providing pre-hospital care during accidents, it is a public Municipal hospital that provides perhaps the best accident care, if you manage to get to it…alive.

Posted by bhavinj at 10:19 AM | Comments (2)

September 17, 2006

South Indian cuppa vs the French press

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

My first memories of coffee are of drinking Mom-made, cold Nescoffee at home. Expresso in those days was the frothy hot coffee you got at fun-n-fairs, from “Expresso” machines. And black coffee, was what I used to make, using two table-spoons of instant Nescafe powder, in boiling water, trying to stay awake at night before important exams.

My favorite filter coffee though, was brewed by Jamuna aunty in her kitchen, where a decoction using filter coffee from Mysore Concerns (MC) was always ready, the added milk and sugar, yielding perhaps the best cuppa in town.

Over the years, I have now learnt how to use a coffee-maker with paper filters, how to differentiate between espressos and ristrettos as well as between lattes, cappuccinos and macchiatos. And, for some time now, I have been using a French press, to make my own cup of wake-me-up morning coffee.

A French press needs a medium-to-course grind, which I’ve always been able to stock up on, during my travels abroad or thanks to traveling relatives.

Three weeks ago, I ran out of coffee for the French press.

Assuming that I could always find coffee powder in Matunga, I made my way to MC. Though MC is one of the four pillars of Tamil Matunga, the only time I’d been there earlier, was about 5-6 years ago, when I had tried to get them to grind some coffee beans I had bought abroad. The person at the counter flatly refused, without any explanations and I finally had to use the grinder at home.

This time around too, I didn’t get much help. MC makes a very fine grind coffee powder, which is not appropriate for a French press. No amount of cajoling, asking them to make a more medium to coarse grind, worked (honestly, how difficult could that have been). I still bought their smallest packet, hoping against hope.

Still, knowing it wouldn’t work (which it didn’t, when I tried it at home that afternoon), I decided to drown my sorrows in a mocha at the local Café Coffee Day (CCD) opposite Don Bosco. While placing the order, I saw a tin of “Dark Forest”, a specialty coffee, on sale. When I asked the barista whether this would work in a French press, he was emphatically negative. The coffee was expensive (Rs. 120 for 200gms) as compared to the Rs. 20 for 100gms at MC, but I decided to give it a try anyway.

After a disappointing attempt with the MC coffee, I opened the Dark Forest tin and made a glass of coffee. The aroma was enticing and the cup turned out great. I then went through the literature that had come with the tin, which apart from all the self-praise, including comments from a famous coffee expert, had this line… “Best used with a French press”. Methinks, the CCD baristas need a wee bit of extra training.

So finally, I did find the medium grind coffee that I wanted…and in my own backyard. But the times…they-are-a-changing. Instead of finding what I wanted, from the local famous David, it was actually the multi-chain Goliath, who came through.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:04 PM | Comments (0)

September 08, 2006

Aamchi Mumbai

This appears in today's Mumbai Mirror.

The two photographs that I invariably turn to, when I am showing off Jehangir Sorabjee’s aerial photo essay of Mumbai, “Above Bombay” (photos courtesy Eminence publishers), are the ones on pages 162 & 163. I had first written about these photographs last year, when I couldn’t help but describe my visceral reaction to the picture on page 163 showing a Beybladish, multi-pronged Maheshwari Udyan (King’s Circle), shot from a helicopter hovering above Don Bosco, as well as the one on page 162, showing the Circle as if it was the face of a wrist-watch, the two limbs of Ambedkar road forming the strap of this watch.

Its amazing how the green Circle has been planned, with its seven arms radiating unequally in multiple directions. If you are facing north, Ambedkar road makes up the 6 and 12o’clock positions with the other roads occupying the various other o’clock positions; 7, 9 & 10 towards the West and 3 and 5 towards the East.

This imagery specifically stands out, because in both these photographs, there is a virtual absence of traffic, except for a few cars facing northwards on the wrong side of the Circle, but with a huge preponderance of people, lining both sides of Ambedkar road and the entire circumference of the Circle. There is one truck, seen opposite Amar Petrol Pump, with an orange statue-like structure jutting out from it. From the height that the photograph was shot, it just about faintly resembles the idol, whose final day this was, the truck on its way to its Shivaji Park destination, where the idol would be laid to rest.

Jehangir couldn’t have chosen a better day to shoot King’s Circle, perhaps the only day, when people-power takes over the roads and the pavements. The photograph does full justice to what the Circle looks like on the evening of Anant Chaturthi. What it is unable to capture though is the energy at ground level.

Last year, we took the kids to be part of this jamboree. At all times, I had one or the other kid on my shoulders (Ganapati-bapa style), trying to make sure they wouldn’t miss the fun. The number of eating carts had doubled, no probably tripled, and there was everything from pav-vada to Chinese American chopsuey, to “golas”, “buddhi-ke-baal”; kulfi and ice-cream vendors with any number of people selling cheap plastic Chinese toys and a variety of balloons.

There were people and people and people everywhere. One image stood out. Outside Monarch, was a bunch of kids, sitting silently on the pavement, with their legs dangling onto the road, probably from the neighboring BJ Home, eating ice-cream cones. Towards Dadar, Ambedkar road was clogged, with Ganpati-laden trucks and hand-carts, trying to make their way through the throngs of people crowding them, with intermittent cries of “Ganpati Bapa Morya” along with the latest “dhin-chak” music, interspersed with people blowing horns, for no reason whatsoever. An equal number of people were settled on the large divider, some enterprising women having brought their plastic chairs and stools to sit on…the mistresses of all they could survey.

As on all Anant Chaturthis, the Circle was throbbing with an indescribable energy, drawing from and then in turn enveloping everyone present, as if part of a huge orgy, in honor of Mumbai’s favorite deity.

I am sure there are other pictures in this book, which invoke similar visceral responses in other people. But for me, its all about pages 163 and 162.

Posted by bhavinj at 10:54 AM | Comments (0)

August 25, 2006

The Power Is Ours

This was in today's Mumbai Mirror.

On Monday night, my Mom called up to ask whether our TV was working, because all she was getting on her TV was snow. For a moment, I thought her cable had been disconnected as well, but we soon realized that the cable operators were on strike.

I thought her cable had been disconnected, because just a couple of days before, I had asked my cable operator to remove ours. Having obtained a Tata-Sky dish connection last week, I finally had the guts to do so, and it felt great to be able to free myself from the clutches of the “Great Indian Cable Conspiracy”.

Matunga, like all other parts of the country, has been carved out into monopolistic territories by the cable operators, and they have complete control not only over our connections, but also the programs that we get to see. Though my local cable operator is actually a nice guy, the fact remains that all cable in India is geared to the lowest common denominator, where we have to suffer poor quality video and audio, a general lethargy for English language channels and to top it off, channels like National Geographic and Disney in Hindi.

In the last week, since I’ve had the dish put-up, I’ve suddenly realized what I’ve been missing out on. I finally have signal quality that makes the 42” plasma really worth the effort, along with a stereo audio signal, which actually sounds good when routed through the sound system.

One really neat thing is the online program guide, which tells you what is currently playing on all channels and the schedules for the next 24 hours. This literally means that we never have to look at a paper program guide again. The bigger revelation however was when I found that many channels, especially the kiddie and sports channels, transmit audio in multiple languages and you can actually choose your language.

The big issue is of choice and power. The choice to see the programs that you want to, in the language that you want to, with a certain quality of video and audio, preferably DVD-like. And eventually, the power to use a DV recorder to record programs that you might want to see later, just as we used to do with VCRs. Thus, I could record all the Desperate Housewives’ episodes, which airs at the ridiculous 10.00PM time slot on Sunday, and then watch four or five episodes back-to-back, on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon…and at the same time skip all the ads and so finish viewing these episodes in almost half the time.

The cable guys have had us by our balls for a long time, but thankfully, no longer. For those who are happy with the current situation, there is nothing further to be said. But for those, who in today’s day and age, want a little more, at least now, there is a choice. And not only a choice between cable and satellite dishes, but even between multiple satellite dish providers.

The power to choose, of course can have funny consequences. Having been forced to watch Power Rangers in Hindi, on the Jetix Toon Disney channel, I thought my kids will immediately switch to English. On the new satellite television, Power Rangers airs in four languages – English, Hindi, Tamil and Telugu. So guess what my English and Hindi-empowered, Gujarati-born daughter does?...she watches entire episodes of Power Rangers in Tamil…apparently because that language has the most punch. Go figure!

Posted by bhavinj at 05:51 PM | Comments (0)

August 13, 2006

A Chinese Tale

This appeared in yesterday's Mumbai Mirror.

A couple of weeks ago, we were returning from a “jagran”, in Bandra/Khar. Luckily, “jagrans” don’t go on through the night anymore and we were able to leave within an hour. It was a Sunday and we thought of eating out in the area…as we cruised along Linking Road, we could see every eatery packed to the gills and with our six-year olds with us, we just didn’t have the courage or energy to wait in line to be fed.

We were discussing our options, when suddenly my wife, in a conspiratorial tone, confessed to a craving for American Chopsuey. And suddenly, as if a partner in crime, I felt the urge to pig out on this dish as well.

It was already past the childrens’ bed-time, so we decided to do a take-out. For people like us, living in Matunga, there is but one logical place for American Chopsuey. Nestled between Koolar and Kamal Towings, in a tiny 100 sq. ft place, with four tables, which at the most can hold fifteen people, Fu-Yong has been around ever since my graduate college days, and therefore at least for the last twenty years, if not more. And John, who oversees the place, seems to have been around for that much time at least. Add in one more waiter, and a cleaner boy and the picture is complete. Though how the waiter is able to serve when the place is full, is one for Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

While growing up, Chinese food was all about American Chopsuey, vegetable spring rolls and sweet corn vegetarian soup. It was only much later, when we first went to China Garden, then at Om Chambers, that I learnt the truth…that American Chopsuey was neither Chinese nor American, but an “Indian” concoction with a “Chinese” taste. I can still remember the supercilious look I got from the maitre, when, in all my junior college confidence, I asked for American Chopsuey, which I then found was not even on the menu.

Years later I also realized that “American Chopsuey” is the one dish you never ask for when traveling abroad. In some places, it could mean a mash of chops (a meat dish), in some other parts, a mash of pasta and in Chinese places on the west coast, a bland mix of vegetables, which some people believe is a corruption of “chopped sewage”. Which may not be a bad term to describe the possible ingredients of some of the variants of American Chopsuey dished out by the roadside Chinese stalls that have sprouted all over Mumbai. After all American Chopsuey is just a mix of vegetables, with soya and hot and sour sauce and crispy, fried noodles, thrown in on top, the most important part being its look…as red as possible.

Over the years, Chinese cuisine has amazingly evolved in Mumbai and we get a phenomenal variety of exotic dishes…with bamboo sprouts, mushrooms, black beans, asparagus, tofu, etc, all with fancy names, such as “Buddha’s delight”, “whatever, whatever, Hunan style or Peking style”, or at the end to make something sound really authentic, “Chef’s Delight”. Along with dim sums, lettuce wraps (kind of like bhel in a rotli) and a terrific variety of bean curd based starters.

And yet with all the Lings and Royal Chinas and Shanghai Clubs, once in a while, it feels really nice to just forget all this “authentic” Chinese stuff and to go back to simpler times…to “Fu-Yong’s American Chopsuey”.

Posted by bhavinj at 08:33 AM | Comments (0)

July 28, 2006

Old, but Distinctive

This was published today in the Mumbai Mirror.

Three weeks ago, a close friend of mine invited me to her small house-warming party. She had moved from her house on RAK Rd in Wadala to a new tower, Dosti Elite, on the road behind CineMax, built in one of the industrial compounds that used to exist there alongside the Premier Automobiles workshop.

Till then (and till now) I had only seen a couple of towers in Mumbai, one in Hiranandani and one in Kandivali (E), and so didn’t really have much to compare with. My friend’s place was impressive. We went in after dark and the swimming pool area was shimmering. We saw a gymnasium, a lovely jogging track, gardens, ample parking and pretty nice apartments and it was difficult to believe that we were just a 5-minutes walk away from the blusteringly busy Sion Circle.

Living as most of us in Matunga do, in our 1 by 3s or 1 by 2s (i.e. 3 or 2 storied plus ground floor), this seemed really nice. For a short while, we kept thinking, how nice it would be to move to such a self-contained residential complex with its own facilities and avoid having to go out to stand-alone clubs or gardens. Apart from being self-contained, they also seem better maintained.

As against that, the older Matunga places offer larger areas for the same price, based on carpet areas and not on super super built-up concepts. The families are more cohesive and as we recently experienced during the summer vacations, the kids really get to form their “gangs” much more easily. But most buildings being landlord-owned, aren’t all that well maintained.

And then Shameem Akthar’s piece, two Tuesdays back, stopped me short. Can it really get that bad living in a cluster of towers? I can completely understand being a “nobody”, getting sucked into a quagmire of insensitivities, such that you start questioning your very being and existence…but I thought this only applied to ICICI internet banking and not to tower homes. And just as I increasingly find that we are better off with our “friendly” neighborhood nationalized banks, who with their “human touch”, prevent us from sinking into the “nobody” syndrome, I wonder if our small 1 by 3s and 1 by 2s are not so bad after all. So what if you have to go Matunga Gymkhana for swimming and listen to a gaggle of mothers in the afternoon besides the swimming pool discussing the best fashion designer in our area. Maybe that is how we retain our sanity and remain “somebodies”.

The sad thing however, is that if you are in the market for a new apartment, you really don’t have a choice, but to go “tower-size”. And if you do decide that you want to live in a small building, these properties are not readily available, unless you buy pre-owned older apartments, which are often rentals, which means you have to pay “pagdi” and you don’t land up owning those places. Yet, the demand for these “old” apartments isn’t really going down, and in the last few weeks, I’ve had at least three colleagues asking me to lookout for any “old” apartments that I might know of that are for sale or rent.

I have now identified my new profession if things go wrong with the current one: Real-Estate Agent for Old Properties in Matunga.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:13 PM | Comments (0)

July 19, 2006

Living with Terror

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Like a lot of people, I always remember precisely what I was doing at times like these. In 1993, I remember, we were in Bombay Hospital, when the first casualties from Dalal Street started pouring in, with head injuries and blood-splattered clothes, accompanied by their broker friends. Those days, without the kind of information dissemination we have now, it was all about rumors and for most of us, that was our first experience with terror of this kind.

On July 11, I was sitting and working at home, when someone casually mentioned some bomb blasts. For at least another half hour, we didn’t think much of it, until we put on the news-channels and saw the mayhem. And they kept mentioning Matunga as one of the sites of the blasts, when in reality that was Matunga Rd station in Matunga West, just before Mahim, not the Matunga we live in.

Matunga in reality, has rarely been affected during either the riots or the blasts. The worst that has ever happened was a major train derailment at the Raoli camp junction, on the harbour line, some years ago. During the 92-93 riots, though adjacent Dharavi was burning, Matunga was a sea of tranquility. We spent most of our time playing cricket on the roads and even the ice-cream parlors opposite Don Bosco were open. The big scare in our lives had been a truck we saw left discarded in one of the bye-lanes, which we thought may have harbored a bomb, but had only been left there for safe-keeping, by a scared truck-owner.

Maybe it’s the homogeneity of the population, maybe it’s the location, but in times of crises, Matunga seems an oasis of peace. Unless of course the crisis we are talking about involves the rains, in which case your sense of well-being completely depends on which side of Gandhi market you live in.

And all this is only true provided you’ve managed to get home to Matunga, in the first place. Which is not always an easy thing to do, when the city is hit.

As the face of terror becomes more and more visible in our lives, as terrorists from conflict areas around the world step up their activities, often without any reason or sense, we also will need to start accepting the presence of terror in our midst and then to get on with our lives. Which is what most of us did the day after, returning to or staying on at work …and thus deny them any sense of victory that the terrorists might have otherwise felt if they had succeeded in disrupting our daily routines.

Posted by bhavinj at 10:51 AM | Comments (0)

June 16, 2006

Thoda hai, thode ki zaroorat hai

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Stanmore is a suburb in North London, where I was vacationing last month. My niece and her husband had moved into their new home just a fortnight back and still hadn’t gotten around to knowing the area well.

The holiday was a lazy one, but like a fool, since I had brought my running shoes along, and that too, after a lot of struggle and acrimony over their presence, especially with the already over-loaded baggage, there was no way I could escape not using them. Which meant I had to go out running in the mornings, whilst everyone else was sleeping away till as late as possible.

I ran thrice on alternate days for about 45 minutes each, until I finally (thankfully) fell down while playing football in a parking lot and injured myself enough to have an excuse to avoid running for the rest of the holiday. Each of those three times though, running in different directions within a mile’s radius from the house, I found a new park. The first was a school-ground, belonging to a regular middle school – the ground was larger than Don Bosco, which we proudly claim to be the biggest in Matunga and Mumbai. The other two were community parks, each larger than all the gardens in Five Gardens combined.

Three large parks in a radius of 1 mile from the house. And just was one small part of Stanmore, which still had other parks and gardens further away as well. Typically, as one of my uncles told me, it is unlikely that you would have to walk more than half a kilometre to get to a park, anywhere in London.

Open spaces make a difference. On multiple levels. Whether they are for kids to play in or for adults to run and walk in, or for grand-parents to have a place to congregate in or just to fulfill our need for greenery and openness – their presence determines the quality of the area that you live in.

People crib about the high taxes in London. But those high taxes get you gardens, clean pavements, good-quality roads, uninterrupted electricity, regular waste pick-up…you get the picture. Small things that make living easier and less of a struggle.

We also pay our taxes in Mumbai…which go mainly towards the salaries of the BMC employees…who then convert our gardens and open spaces into shopping malls or parking lots or building complexes or open toilets…and leave us with cratered roads and pavements.

Yet, despite the apathy among the authorities and the lack of planning in the past, Matunga is still one of the few places in Mumbai, with decent open spaces. And this is one of the reasons that Matunga is still a popular place to live in. We have Maheshwari Udyan and Five Gardens, other smaller gardens nearby in Parsi Colony, gardens such as the one near Nappoo Hall, the Cosmopolitan grounds, the ground opposite Ruia and Poddar and the one outside Indian Gymkhana, apart from the many private grounds of all the eight or ten schools in the area as well as the colleges such as Khalsa, VJTI and UDCT. Which isn’t such a bad tally, when you think of it!

So though Matunga can never be Stanmore, very few places in Mumbai can be like Matunga as well. Which is actually a shame...both ways!

Posted by bhavinj at 11:19 PM | Comments (0)

May 26, 2006

Water, water everywhere, but not a tissue to dry

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Two Mondays back, this paper ran a hilarious story on the absence of water in the wash-rooms of some of the five-star hotels in the suburbs. Apparently, the individual concerned had filed a complaint with the BMC and there was a graphic description of how people who needed to wash rather than use tissue might have to climb up on the basin to fulfill their water needs. I wonder why Morparia hasn’t done a cartoon on this – I just can’t get this picture out of my head.

His biggest grouse of course was that we Indians are water-based people and to provide only tissues and no water for cleaning goes against the “Indian” grain and therefore is not acceptable. Many years ago, Mrs. Maneka Gandhi had also commented on this, finding the use of tissue paper abhorrent, but I presume, more from the environmental paper-conservation issue than anything else.

Both of them will love Matunga. Specifically, the restaurants in Matunga, since Matunga in any case does not have five-star hotels and the nearest one at Parel, the ITC Grand, also is water-less in its toilets.

A good number of restaurants in Matunga don’t have rest-rooms anyway, so there is no problem. But there are some, which do have toilets. And these are the ones that have only water for cleaning, with absolutely no tissues at all.

Picture this. You’ve had some awesome fiery pav-bhaji or mysore masala and suddenly you feel the urge. You rush to the restroom, do your business and then clean yourself with the water. And then you’re stuck. With no tissues, how do you wipe yourself dry? Do you just wait for your underwear/panty to absorb the water, or do you wait till natural drying occurs.

The absence of paper manifests itself at the wash-basins as well. After eating (and don’t tell me you have dosas and idlis with a fork and knife), you need to wash your hands. Washing is fine, because there is ample water. But after that you need to dry them. And that’s where the problem arises. Most provide a towel for wiping your hands on. But this towel has been used a good number of times by people before you and unless you can find a corner which is still dry and therefore has not been wiped on before, you’re stuck.

Most of the times, you then land up using your handkerchief or the front of your jeans, if you are wearing one. Which is ridiculous. The best option here would be to provide paper napkins from dispensers, like the ones from Kimberly-Clark, which are ubiquitous now at airports, in malls and in those famous rest-rooms of the five-star hotels.

Which of course brings us right back to the use of paper and its many critics. But honestly, give me hygiene and disposable material for wiping and cleaning anyday over having water dripping from all parts of your body or having to use a towel or napkin that someone earlier has used.

Of course, the best solution would be to have the all-in-one, no-touch Japanese toilets, which dispense water for cleaning, provide air jets for drying, warm your exposed skin and also check your urine for sugar and alcohol. The only problem then would be that you might not want to leave the toilet room at all. Which on a bad day may not be such a bad idea…especially if the toilet came with a DVD viewer as well!

Posted by bhavinj at 11:15 PM | Comments (1)

May 19, 2006

Just Once is Enough

This essay appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

We had the 20th class reunion of our medical college batch that joined LTMMC in 1982, about four years ago. Except for those few who didn’t want to be found, everyone who was still in India was there. Along with their spouses. It was great to see and meet everyone after such a long time. As the afternoon wore on, the one thing that hit home was that everyone without exception was doing well in life. Everyone! Including those who had come in through the reservation seats, which were around 35% in those days.

It was then that the power of affirmative action struck hit many of us and we talked about it at length during the reunion post-mortem a few weeks later. We could remember some of our colleagues who had come in with nothing else, but the dream, fire and ambition to be a doctor and who, despite initial failures and problems, had become doctors like of all us. Their lives, the lives of their parents and families and those around them, had completely changed along the way. To put it in a country-western kind of way – they now had the money and the gals. Without reservations, it is unlikely that any of this would have happened.

Some of them went on to do post-graduation as well, by fighting for the post-graduate (PG) seats like everyone else. Eighteen years ago, when we were taking up our PGs, there were no reservations. A post-graduate degree in medicine was considered a “high seat of learning” and it was unthinkable that you could have reservations at this level. And everyone fought it out at this level, irrespective of caste, creed or method of original entry into the MBBS course.

Reservations work and make a difference. There is no denying this fact. But the reason for reservations is to provide an opportunity to those who do not have a level playing field during schooling or in junior college. Those who are economically or socially disadvantaged are thus helped by this one act of affirmative action, when they join medicine. Becoming a doctor is a big deal…you enjoy an elevated status in society, you join the top 5% earners in the country and life changes for the better. Always. Even if you don’t want it to. Just one doctor in the family is all that is required to pull the family out of its cycle of poverty and related problems, thus serving the original purpose of the reservation policy.

Unfortunately, in practice, the policy does not work as envisaged. Too many people from the “creamy layer” take advantage of this policy and abuse the system. In theory, those families that have already used the reservation policy to better themselves, should no longer be allowed to avail of reservation seats, simply because of the accident of their birth-caste.

Just as it is intuitively obvious that the “creamy layer” should be disallowed from abusing the system, in the same manner, once a person is a doctor, using reservations as a method of gaining one more advantage, i.e. a PG seat, should also be considered abuse of the system. It is not people from the general public who take up a PG seat, but only those who have already become doctors. And by the time medical students have become doctors after their 5 ½ years grind, the playing fields have leveled, irrespective of the original portal of entry into the system.

By allowing those who have become doctors on the basis of a reservation seat, to get a PG seat as well through reservation, is a case of double affirmative action. Just as double jeopardy is unacceptable (trying a person for the same crime twice), double affirmative action (allowing the same person to get a reservation seat twice) does not make sense. It is unfair to those who are fighting for these seats on merit and also insulting to those who despite having entered MBBS through reservation, have now proved themselves equal to everyone else through sheer hard work and perseverance.

We didn’t have PG reservations, eighteen years ago and the system worked well. Somewhere down the line, the “higher centre of learning” and “double affirmative action” reasoning was subverted, someone went to court and 27-30% reservations were introduced. Now they want to make it 50%, which is absolutely ridiculous. Its time we went back to 0%, i.e. no PG reservations whatsoever.

Posted by bhavinj at 11:38 AM | Comments (0)

May 09, 2006

Much Ado Over Khakhras

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Last month, I had to travel to a Middle-Eastern country for two days. I called a friend of mine who lives there to tell him that I was coming and we fixed up to meet for lunch, the day after my arrival. I then asked him if he wanted anything. He hesitated for a moment and then said “Can you get me some khakhras?”

I can understand Gujjus pining for khakhras, but a true-blood CKP wanting khakhras? Apparently, even though he is the general manager of one of the biggest supermarket chains in that country, which specifically caters to the large Indian population as well, they don’t stock khakhras.

I have grown up with khakhras. As a child, I would see my Mom take left-over chapatis from the previous day and then on a tava, using a thick, cloth-covered “datto”, deliver a constant pressure to the chapati, until it became thin and crisp. And we had to make sure that the khakhra dabba was packed air-tight and not left open under the fan, otherwise the khakhras would become un-crisp within minutes.

Many years ago, we used to eat khakhras with ghee and sugar, usually for breakfast or in the afternoon as a snack. Then for a long time, I didn’t really have much to do with them, except during my earlier trips abroad, when khakhras and theplas were packed for me just in case I didn’t find vegetarian food to eat in the “phoren” countries.

In the last few months though, thanks to the need to start eating healthier foods, I’ve re-stared having them as an evening snack. I quickly learnt that instead of ghee and sugar, its better to lather them with mustard and mayonnaise. Mmm…a mustard-mayo combo on a plain khakhra…just try it – its awesome.

Since my Mom no longer makes khakhras, and not knowing where they come from these days, I stopped over at Chheda (remember the four pillars of Matunga?) on my way home. I asked for their khakhra counter, hoping to quickly pick-up a couple of packets. Quickly? Couple? I was suddenly faced with khakhra choice-fatigue. There were more than 30 types of khakhras – plain, masala, low-cal, methi, Jain and even Schezwan. And in different sizes. I called my friend again and asked him what he wanted. After asking me how many types there were and listening to my incredulous answer, he opted for plain, masala and (how can you resist this) Schezwan.

I picked up these packets and then bubble-wrapped them to make sure they wouldn’t crack. This incident made for good dinner-table conversation that day and I also learnt that our khakhras now came from a co-operative in Nallasopara, where my mother-in-law helps out members of this co-op who make khakhras for a living. It is a time-consuming, labor-intensive job, but it does generate income. And apparently, there are many such co-ops, as well as individual women who make khakhras in their homes and sell them to make some extra money.

Over coffee at a Starbucks, after a great Mexican meal, as I handed over the khakhras to my friend he told me that they were actually now going to try and source khakhras from India to stock in their stores. Which I guess means that I don’t need to carry khakhras the next time I visit that country.

Posted by bhavinj at 11:36 AM | Comments (2)

April 16, 2006

Flash from an SLR past

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Last Sunday, we suddenly realized that the one-year old, passport-sized photos of our fast-growing, six-years old twins, would not do for some visas that we were applying for. They already look different.

So, just before our biweekly Sunday Udipi ritual, we trooped to Foto Circle, which we have been frequenting for the last God-knows how many years and with a brief nod to the owners, mouthing the words “passport photos”, we promptly walked out through the rear entrance, onto the landing of the building that Foto Circle belongs to, and then climbed up to the first floor to their studio. Why didn’t we go directly up to the studio? I have no answer…I guess, just force of habit.

In today’s day and age of 5 and 6 mega pixel cameras and other fancy digital photography equipment, photo studios may seem anachronistic. But, as long as we need visas and as long as the visa people insist on 35mmx35mm or 45mmx35mm or 2”x2” or some such rubbish size, with a white background and blue shirt with the ears seen and shoulders straight, and teeth brushed with only Colgate and not Pepsodent, photo studios will live.

But there are photo studios and there are photo studios.

As long as I can remember, Ramesh Kandari (and I bothered to learn his name only this time), has been around shooting faces on his SLR. He exemplifies the saying “whatever you do, do it well”. Ramesh does not just click photos as if for a passport. He clicks photos to be treasured.

I have been to a few other studios and identity-photo shoots. You come in front of the camera, the photographer says “smile” and sometimes not even that, you hear a click and see the flash and you’re out.

Ramesh takes his own time. He first adjusts the bulbs and flash-stands for about a minute. He then fusses over your posture, making sure your shoulders are straight. Your chin has to be upright just so. He then looks through the view-finder to check whether everything is fine. Invariably, he is not satisfied and he makes a few more adjustments. Then comes the “please smile” followed by the click and flash. And just to be sure, he clicks once more.

He doesn’t have to do all this. But he takes pride in his work and that’s what counts. To the extent that he repeated the entire session with the kids, once again, when he found that one of the flash-bulbs had not been triggering properly.

This is the reason why, despite being personally reasonably photo-savvy, we’ve been going to him for other photographs as well. When the kids were six months old, we took them for a photo-shoot in their cribs. Then, when they were around three years old, and dressed to the hilt for a Navratri evening, we took them for a photo-session.

And this time, after the passport photos were done, we did another session to record my son’s first fallen left upper central incisor, which had been moving for the last six months, but finally came out, just four days ago, And since the tooth fairy had anyway left him a video-game in exchange for his tooth, we realized we needed to record for posterity his one-tooth-less grin as well. With a professional photo-shoot to boot.

And like the other photos shot by Ramesh, this one will also take pride of place in the photo-collage in the kids’ room.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:26 PM | Comments (0)

March 31, 2006

Hair comes the salon revolution

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

This is one thing I find difficult to understand. We all need hair-cuts, which we get done at regular intervals …anywhere from once in 2-3 weeks to once in 2-3 months, depending on our sex, amount of hair and need. Which means that the number of people getting their hair cut in a day is reasonably fixed and would increase only with an increase in the population.

Uptil three years ago, King’s Circle had two saloons, Capitol and Star, both for men, with a couple of more saloons near the Market and on Bhaudaji road and a couple more for women. Most women mGSBs (Matunga Gujaratis aspiring to be South Bombayites), however used to go outside Matunga for their “parlor” needs.

As a kid, I, I used to frequent a parlor in Brahmanwada. I stopped going when one day the “barber” found it more interesting to watch an ongoing Amitabh movie on cable than the state of my hair and gave me a nick on my ear-lobe. I then moved to Star, which has always been a popular, no-frills saloon and does a better-than-average job at cutting hair, but stopped going there, when I found it more convenient to get my hair-jobs done near my place of work.

And then suddenly about two years ago, started the saloon revolution. Enrich first opened on the Circle, followed by Aakruti, which along with Naturals (the ice-cream parlor) has erased all signs of the late Dr. U B Rao’s clinic. And then just last week, I saw another new fancy saloon next to Foto Circle.

So I come back to the original question. What is the reason for this sudden spurt in the number of saloons in Matunga? Is it that 20 somethings and teens are getting their hair done more often than when we were their age? Or is it because mGSBs have stopped going out of Matunga for their hair-related issues and are now patronizing these new places? Or is it because more and more boys and men have started getting facials, manicures and pedicures done…sheesh!

Yet, with all these “glam” saloons taking over Matunga hair-dos, the road-side barber with his “istra”, still flourishes outside Aurora with a reasonable clientele of taxi-drivers and household help, offerring his services at an unbeatable price.

In the midst of this “saloon” awakening, what has quietly gone unnoticed is another revolution. In drearily conservative and boring Matunga, where all shops now sell egg-less pastries and cakes with eggs are amazingly difficult to find, where women would always go to “women” parlors, at special times, out-of-sight of men or behind curtains, we now suddenly have unisex saloons, and no one seems to be raising even a third of an eyebrow.

A few months ago, a nephew of mine from abroad, wanted a special type of hair-cut. When we asked around, we were told of a “designer” hair-dresser between Matunga and Dadar. When we called him, his receptionist said that the earliest appointment would be after 4 days. Four days? For a hair-cut? Honestly? He quietly went to Star and they managed to do what he wanted them to do, within the hour, at probably one-fourth the price. Some things in life (and hair-cuts fall in this category) are definitely not worth waiting for!

Posted by bhavinj at 06:22 PM | Comments (0)

March 11, 2006

Opingo Batingo

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to the 10th wedding anniversary of a close school friend. While mingling with some other friends who were there, I suddenly had the wind blown out of me by a big thump on my back. I turned around and found another old school friend, with his index finger raised, mouthing the word “Opingo”.

We must be the only two over-40 relics still playing this game. It started in Don Bosco and we’ve carried it through college and graduate school, till the present.. For those who came in late (a la the Ghost Who Walks), it is a very simple game, played for the sole purpose of inflicting pain by hitting the other person as hard as possible. In brief, if you stand, you have to raise your index finger and say “Opingo” and if you sit, you have to put up your index and middle fingers and say “Batingo”. If you don’t, the person with whom you are playing the game has the right to hit you.

It is somewhat like “statue”, but honestly, “statue” is an amazingly silly game, which works only on the premise that the other person will follow your command. If he/she refuses to, there is not a damn thing you can do. Here if the other person does not say “Opingo” or “Batingo”, you can hit him/her. Hard! Wow!

Probably the closest game to this was “Apadhubi”. In this game, you took a rubber ball and just hit whoever was nearest you with as much force as possible. As simple as that. It was a great game to vent out your anger, angst and energy. Square-ball and dodge-ball came a close second, the aim again being to hit someone as hard as possible with the ball and to get that person out. I still remember playing square-ball in my building compound and hitting a young girl on her chest when we were both I guess around 10-12 years old. She started crying and I kept laughing. No wonder, we are from Mars and girls…forget Venus, they used to be from another universe in those days.

Obviously the next thing to say would be “where have these good old days gone”, “children today don’t play…they only watch television or are on the PC…”. These are such clichés as well. Though my kids love to watch their movies and television (restricted to weekends), they are now part of a gang of kids, that is constantly out in the compounds of the buildings in our block, playing the usual games that kids do (icespice, catching cook, kicking the ball, cycling). Plus they play in Don Bosco in the evenings, attend basketball coaching and have become karate brown belts.

Not only them, there is always someone or the other in the gully playing cricket, while others play football or basketball in the school grounds, and some land up in the nearby gyms.

My kids may never land up playing “Apadhubi” or lagori, or gilli-danda, but they still are outdoors for a good amount of time. My take? Television and PCs are so ubiquitous that they are just becoming another set of tools for entertainment, taken as matter of fact by the current generation of kids. It is in fact our generation that seems to be addicted, most likely because we didn’t have these gadgets when we were growing up.

Or maybe this is all just a Matunga thing!

Posted by bhavinj at 01:52 AM | Comments (2)

March 05, 2006

Damned if you, damned if you don't

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror

The resident doctors all over Maharashtra have again gone on strike this week and its that déjà vu feeling all over again.
Every three-four years, since the early-80s, there has been a strike by resident doctors. The issues are always the same: more money, better working conditions and better accommodation. This time the flash-point though, is the issue of security, due to the increasing incidence of doctor-bashing violence by patients within the hospitals.

Should the resident doctors strike?

Think about living, four to a 150sq feet room, with bed-bugs, poor ventilation, terrible food, unclean water, a 24-hours a day, seven-day a week schedule and the constant threat of work-related diseases such as tuberculosis, HIV and hepatitis B, and now, the threat of violence. For around Rs. 8000/month (<150$). Now think how you would feel if the resident doctor were you, or your son or your daughter.

So why is there such a big issue created when they go on strike?

Because, when the residents strike, more than 50% of the city's population is suddenly deprived of basic and essential medical services. That’s right. 50%. 7 million people. So do read on.
Let’s now understand who these resident doctors are!
Resident doctors are the ones who are training for their specialty MD and MS degrees, after having finished their basic MBBS and internship, in colleges, usually attached to large public hospitals, usually run by the government, e.g. JJ Hospital or by the Municipality, e.g. KEM, Nair and Sion. These hospitals provide health-care virtually free of cost to anyone and everyone, even to those who are not domiciled in Mumbai.

The residents, in theory, are supposed to be “trainees”, “training” in these hospitals to obtain the theoretical and practical knowledge that they need to eventually become qualified, specialized doctors such as surgeons, cardiologists, radiologists, etc. - in reality, the authorities get cheap labor to run these public hospitals. In KEM Hospital alone, there are 700 resident doctors and 400 staff doctors, which means that if the resident doctors aren’t around, at least 60% of the work should still go on. In reality, only 5-10% of the actual work happens, because despite their “student/training” status, they are completely critical to the functioning of these hospitals. Even the “peripheral” hospitals such as Kasturba (opposite the Arthur Road jail), Rajawadi (in Ghatkopar), Bhagwati (in Borivli), etc, stop functioning, because they too completely depend on residents posted in rotation from the central hospitals.

Are the residents then morally justified in striking?

Do you really think that we have never agonized about this? This is a demon that has always haunted us, all through each strike that we’ve ever participated in. I don’t have an answer despite extensive soul-searching, but most of us eventually rationalize this action by transferring accountability onto the authorities, holding them responsible for the strike having happened in the first place.
These strikes are preventable, simply because the demands can easily be met. If the authorities were proactive and tried to solve the residents' problems in time, things would not come to this. Expecting this to happen however, is obviously a pipe dream. Maybe, the residents could go to court, and file a public interest litigation. But from where will the resident doctors get the time, energy and money, required to fight a court case on a daily basis? And so, the only solution that remains, is to go on strike, for which there is at least some concerted and determined effort, manpower and time, if not money, available, for a short period of time.

You would think then that the authorities would want to negotiate with the doctors to resolve the strike. Think again!

Who are the people affected by the strike? It is those people who cannot afford private doctors and hospitals, those who earn less than sustenance level and those who live in slums or on the roads or wherever.

The authorities do not care, since these poor people affected by the strike don't really matter. It is not like the Municipal Mazdoor Union going on strike and winning their demands in 24-48 hours, because no one can stand their garbage not being collected.
Moreover, the resident doctors are eventually doctors, who after a few years are going to be in the top 10% income bracket in the country – subconsciously, this affects the extent of public and press support – the authorities play with this fact and so they wait and threaten, wearing down the patience and enthusiasm of the resident doctors, who after all are educated, intelligent, white-collar individuals, completely unused to this sort of a method of protest.
At the end of a month or 40 days (the usual length of a residents' strike), the strike ends, the weary residents accepting whatever few sops the authorities are willing to give. And the authorities magnanimously tell the striking doctors that they will not penalize them for not having worked for one month and will allow them to keep terms - one of the worst fears resident doctors have, is of losing a six-month term or losing registration. Threaten them with this loss and half of them start thinking of capitulating.

Why don't the residents learn from the past? Because, every three years, a new crop of residents is in place. And the lessons of the past are forgotten.

The anatomy of the strike, thus remains the same.
First week - enthusiasm, rallies, hunger strikes, street plays
Second week - some of the less enthusiastic residents go home, some default, some start studying for their exams on the sly
Third week - government threatens loss of term and enthusiasm dips.
Fourth week - most residents want to get back to work.
Fifth week - strike is over

But things don’t end here. Like a tragi-comedy, even after an agreement is finally struck, the authorities do not always fulfill the terms of the agreement. Follow-up by MARD (Maharashtra Association of Medical Doctors), after a strike, is extremely poor due to the fact that the doctors get extremely busy, working, learning and reading for their exams and they are extremely mobile, changing hospitals and rotations all the time. The authorities know this as well and can play around with the terms and conditions any way they want…until the ground is laid for the next strike about three years later. And everything comes full cycle.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Posted by bhavinj at 01:50 AM | Comments (0)

February 06, 2006

King Kong is Shrinking in Sion

This piece appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Sometimes, to appreciate greatness, it helps to have something inferior nearby. Last Saturday, we finished watching John Guillermin’s 1976 King Kong version at home, and then the next day, we landed up watching Peter Jackson’s recent version at CineMax, Sion.

We hadn’t been to CinePlanet/CineMax for quite some time and were pleasantly surprised at the changes. They now check tickets at the entry to the foyer, the ground and first floor floyer arrangements for food and drink have changed and the place seems cleaner. More importantly, the staff has had an amazing make-over. Even after we spilt an entire popcorn bucket, they all just smiled, cleaned up the mess and to top it all, gave us another one for free. But some things remain the same. In Planet3, on the 3rd floor, they no longer have ice-cream and cold coffee, and you still have to trudge down to the first floor for these.

Peter Jackson is on his way to becoming an all-time great. With the pressure of having to do as well as the Lord of the Rings, if not better, it couldn’t have been easy. Unlike Ramesh Sippy, who after Sholay (which more and more seems to be a fluke) actually made turkey after turkey and movies like Brashtachar, Peter Jackson almost betters himself. Sure, he could have gone easy on the dinosaurs and the large insects and the overdone natives who look like leftovers from Lord of the Rings, but the rest of the film is rich, intense and captures the “It wasn’t the airplanes. It was Beauty that killed the Beast” ethos perfectly. And unlike George Lucas, who has serious problems getting his Stars Wars actors to emote, Peter Jackson is not only amazing with his CGI stuff, but also a good director, definitely more Spielbergen than Lucasan or Ramirezan.

And it helps to have someone like Naomi Watts. She plays Ann Darrow so well, you wonder how the script-writers and the director could have justified Jessica Lange’s floozy character in the 1976 version. Except for Jeff Bridges, who would have made a better Jack Driscoll than Adrien Brody, everyone else is better cast and better sketched as well. While John Guillermin’s version is cliched, in parts ridiculous and in parts a parody, Peter Jackson’s version takes itself seriously while remaining unabashedly emotional.

But I wish I could have seen this is a larger theatre, like Metro, Regal or Sterling. More and more, with multiplexes, our theatre experience is shrinking. Even though the screen sizes are the same as before, the smaller size of the halls almost makes you think you are at home, in front of your 42”. And though the recent King Kong film is better than the earlier one, Rupam, where CineMax now stands was more fun. I can still remember the collective sigh from all the girls (and their mothers) in the audience, when Kumar Gaurav first turns his face towards the camera, while in the aircraft, in Love Story. Or the frenzy of getting tickets for the opening day of Karz (Subhash Ghai, what has happened to you?) and standing in line from 8.00AM onwards on a Monday, just to see Rishi Kapoor, on Friday, prancing around singing Om Shanti Om, and then realizing what a great villain Simi Garewal could be.

Of couse, for the big-screen appearance, Aurora is still around, but with the large hall, come the large mosquitoes as well…but, that’s fodder for another story

Posted by bhavinj at 01:48 AM | Comments (0)

January 28, 2006

Of the idli ilk

This is my new piece that came in today's Mumbai Mirror.

After having been around for 40 odd years, you often start believing that you’ve been there, done that and seen it all. Fewer and fewer things (unless they are IPODian gadgets or large-screen plasmas) get you excited. More and more, everything starts becoming routine. But then…once in a while…something happens….

Being in Matunga, I thought I knew everything that I had to about idlis. I’ve had idlis in all sizes and shapes; from simple idlis to idli-vada combinations, to dahi idli, butter-idli, fried idli, and masala idlis with cashews, etc embedded in them. I’ve had Muthu’s idlis, my Mom’s idlis, cocktail idlis, and the idli-like khottos and mudhos.

I’ve had idlis outside of Matunga, the best ever in Leela Goa, as well as in Kerala, Tamil Nadu, in Gujarat, Punjab, in London, San Diego, Dubai and God knows where else. I’ve had idlis without anything, with sambhar, with sambhar and chutney separately or sometimes even together and sometimes just with butter. I’ve fought with restaurateurs over their coconut chutneys, facing shameful admissions of embellishments with “daaliya” and “chana” or peanuts, as well as incredulous expressions of “how can you even ask if our chutney is pure coconut or no”.

Last week, on a lazy Sunday morning, we decided to go to Anand Bhuvan for breakfast. Wondering what to order apart from the usual idlis and dosas, my eyes fell on a name, written in chalk on a blackboard, in “Today’s Specials”, a dish I had never had before. There was nothing really great about the name itself, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never before had this combination….a combination of rasam and idli forming a dish called…“rasam idli”. Rasam vadas, yes… rasam on its own, yes… rasam with rice…yes, but rasam idli…that was a new one.

And…the rasam idlis were absolutely to die for. As I put each portion into my mouth, the rasam-soaked pieces would melt immediately, releasing an explosive mix of a difficult to describe but a predominantly tangy mix of flavors and aromas. The combination was amazing and between the two of us, my wife and I finished another plate as well.

I guess it’s all in the combination. Unlike sambhar, which is much too thick, idlis just soak up the rasam. With that, I guess, they become softer and the rasam becomes part of the idli itself. When you then eat that idli, the combination becomes unbeatable.

Its amazing, isn’t it. Nothing fancy, no fusion, just a change from sambhar to rasam and boom!

I am sure that I will be besieged by emails from people telling me that this is a very usual, ordinary experience for many of them and that they have been having rasam idlis for years and years. Maybe so, but it is not listed as an item in most menus (unless I have been blind) and for some strange reason, in the last forty years (OK, 30, to count only the conscious, idli-eating years), I’ve have never had this combination before.

So from now, its going to be rasam idlis, for a long time to come…until the next Nirvanic experience (which I actually had with some home-cooked red Thai curry, but I can’t talk about it, since neither the chef nor the experience was in Matunga or Greater Matunga).

Posted by bhavinj at 06:47 AM | Comments (2)

January 18, 2006

Kati Patang

This has been published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

The crease between the middle and distal phalanges of my right index finger digit is burning and hurting a bit, because of a small cut, along the outer aspect, which like the black ink on the nail during voting time, is my mark of having flown kites on Sankrant.

The “maanjha”, because of the embedded fine glass, cuts and cuts badly. As a kid, I often used to fly kites with a Band-Aid around the index finger tip and many older kids I knew had developed calluses, due to the chronic friction with the “maanjha”. Today, I guess, you would only find cuts, since no one in Mumbai, and especially in Matunga, seems to fly kites except on Sankrant.

Last Saturday, the whole family was up on the terrace; we were trying to get the kids and some of their neighboring friends involved in the kite-flying process as well. Kids being kids, they were excited to begin with, but when they realized that they couldn’t fly the kites on their own, their interest kept waxing and waning. Whenever someone “kataoed” our kite, they would suddenly get animated (we lost 4 kites), and when we let them hold the kites or give some “dheel”, they would be fine, but otherwise, they would go back to playing their silly games.

The worst thing about losing the kites was that not even once did I see the “pech” happen. Talk about loss of practice. Also, each time we lost our kite, we had to draw the “maanjha” back in and the kids were terrible at handling the “firkees”. As kids, we used to palm the two handles of the “firkees” in our two hands and then start rocking the palms to roll in the “maanjha” as fast as possible – the aim was to be the “fastest firkee drawer” around. The current generation of kids have no clue about how to handle these instruments, and eventually, after each kite-loss, my father-in-law or I had to take over the “firkee”.

Just after dusk, we let up our first lantern – a paper one with a candle inside. We tied it to one of our kites that was already up. It looked gorgeous, snaking its way up slowly as we gave more “dheel”, but no sooner had it reached a good height (and was the only lantern in the sky), someone cut the kite it was attached to and we lost the kite and the lantern. Luckily, one of the American, LED-lit contraptions, which we had attached to another one, stayed put and we managed to get that one safely back.

Every other terrace in the locality had families flying kites and just before dusk, there were more than 20 kites in the air. Of course, this number is miniscule compared to the situation in Bhuleshwar and Ahmedabad, but for Matunga, 20 kites over Manikrao Lotlikar Marg was a good number.

The kids of course, kept asking why we were flying kites on this particular day. Thank God for Google and the ability to get quick answers. Obviously Makar Sankrant is the day of transition, from when the days become longer and the nights shorter, etc… and is also celebrated as Lohri in Punjab and Pongal in the South, but what I couldn’t find easily was the relationship between kite-flying and Makar Sankrant. Unless, it just started as an excuse to celebrate and to meet up on terraces.

Posted by bhavinj at 02:43 AM | Comments (0)

January 13, 2006

Tull they come

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

A few weeks ago, a senior colleague who lives in South Mumbai, walked into my office and mentioned how he enjoyed reading about Matunga. He then asked me why I did not write about the culture in Matunga, about the dance recitals and classical music concerts, etc. that are held in Mysore Sabha and Shanmukhananda Halls. His main contact with Matunga, was not the Udipi restaurants, as is usual, but these auditoria. I was nonplussed.

Never having learnt the fine art of fine arts appreciation, I am a little lost when people talk of Carnatic music or Hindustani classical or this or that gharana or arangetrams, etc.
To me, a music concert, until recently meant going to Rang Bhavan and listening to whichever act deigned to perform in our city or the Jazz Yatra every other year. Unfortunately, due to the High Court ruling on sound pollution, Rang Bhavan has met an untimely (hopefully temporary) death and the thought of going to the Andheri Sports Ground and other similar venues has stifled all further concert attendances.

Though some acts have started playing in closed halls, they don’t always work out well for jazz or rock concerts as a friend of mine discovered a couple of weeks ago, when he went for the Buddy Guy concert at the NCPA. Though the music was great, the reverberations in the hall were not!

For many years, Shanmukhananda Hall was the place where our annual school day programs were held, until they finally shifted to the quadrangle in the school itself. I also remembering attending “musical nights”, by the “voices” of Kishore Kumar, Mukesh, Mohammed Rafi, etc. These used to be extremely popular in the days when we only had 3 male and 2 female playback singers to listen to.

I also remember attending a rock competition in the late 70s, at a time when Nandu Bhende and his group used to rule the roost. A Filipino rock star whose name I just can’t remember had come down to Mumbai and someone had hastily organized this competition. We were there from 10AM to 6PM and must have heard at least 20 odd bands. I don’t know who won, but I don’t think the Hall has ever hosted such an event since.

Mysore Sabha these days often becomes a surrogate Prithvi, with a good number of plays being held there. These are however poorly advertised and often we come to know of them either on the day of the show or just a day before (or sometimes after) when it becomes almost impossible to reschedule our weekends, especially when we’ve already worked out the kids’ activities in advance. I really miss the days when you could walk into Chhabildas School and for five rupees, sit on the wooden floor and from a touching distance, watch Naseer and Ratna stage their pre-opening day productions.

And so I am just praying that Jethro Tull at the end of this month, makes the cut in Shanmukhanda Hall. If it all works out, then maybe, just maybe, Matunga / Sion, may become a rock concert hub. Though where people will find the place to smoke their joints is another question!

PS: I had wondered in one of the earlier columns, what Shiv (the vernacular name for Sion) meant. Many readers emailed saying that it means the “boundary”, “exit point” or “threshold”, which Sion in the older days was, when Mumbai ended at Sion.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:00 PM | Comments (0)

December 26, 2005

80 batch reunion

This piece appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

One of the benefits of contributing to “Writer’s Bloc” is of suddenly being contactable publicly. A few weeks ago, Mohun, an old school-mate, emailed me and we touched base after almost a decade. A couple of non-committed Sundays later, he just dropped in home and along with Krishnan, who lives nearby in the same “gulli”, we gup-shupped through the morning.

Earlier this year, I went to Ashdin’s wedding, probably the last of my school friends to get married, where I ran into Cedric, who I hadn’t seen in over 20 years. Cedric now lives in Bangkok and eventually later this year, we actually landed up visiting him and having a great time.

Last week, Cedric was in town and Mohun was dying to meet up with some of the others of our Don Bosco batch of 80, who meet up every once in a while. With a minimum of fuss, around 15 of us met up last week.

Irrespective of where we initially decide to meet, eventually, we always land up at just one place, Rasna Punjab. Rasna has been around for donkeys years and serves better-than-average Punjabi food with reasonably cheap booze. Though highly under-rated compared to the other restaurants in Matunga, it gives us a lot of rope and accommodates the din we create, with all our cussing and shouting, fending off with ease, complaints from the nearby tables.

A meeting of school-friends is almost always about nostalgia. Remembering all the crazy and wild things that we had all done during school, catching up on what everyone is doing now and remembering and bitching about those who aren’t around. The school, the Matunga environs and the people concerned…all evoke extremely strong memories and sometimes, strong emotions as well, along with some baggage that you’d have thought would have been off-loaded a long time back over the last twenty-five years.

One such baggage that we have all offloaded is of being SSC students. I still remember how ICSE kids used to have this la-di-la, superior attitude even in those days, which apparently has gotten even worse. Now, looking back, I think that was actually a good thing; the hunger to “show them”, combined with the rounded-education from a top ten school, I am sure, played no small part in driving us to where we are today.

The sad part though is that, this year marks 25 years since we left school and we forgot to celebrate this anniversary. Forgot…just like that! We’ve decided to do one now, but Mehul is so pessimistic, he thinks that not more than 50 people (25 couples) will turn up for a reunion. I am overly optimistic, and am sure that at least 125 ex-students will turn up (wives extra), my argument being that even if you didn’t like the school or your friends, you would come to a reunion at least once in 10-15 years. At least out of curiosity, if nothing else, to see how everyone else was doing, how the teachers were and whether Matunga and the school environs had changed or not changed or whatever. We finally laid a bet and come Dec 16, 2006, we’ll know who wins. And I know that Mehul wouldn’t really like to win this bet.

Posted by bhavinj at 05:47 PM | Comments (2)

December 16, 2005

The next door denizen

This one appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Ravi, last week emailed me asking me when Sion would be covered in Writer’s Bloc, saying, “as one of the Onida ads says, ‘Neighbors Envy Owner’s Pride’”. I had anyway included Sion as part of the greater Matunga area, but when Anita on Sunday, muscled in, I realized I would have to move fast to protect my territorial interests (grin).

Sion, like Wadala is nothing but another Matunga, with a few pockets of difference. Most of it is populated by Gujjus…and we actually have a “Jain Society”. In Dr. Kusum Doshi’s words “Housing was also not neglected by the Gujjus of this area. A few of them got together and formed a society and constructed 18 buildings on a co-operative
basis—popularly known as Jain Society. This possibly may be the first co-operative housing society formed in this area. Here every member got one building as his share”.

Even those “townies” who don’t know where Matunga is, know where Sion is. If you want to leave town to go either to Lonavla/Pune or beyond Dahisar, etc. Sion till a few years ago was the only way out and even today is still the best way out. Both the highways converge to this central suburb, the Western Express via Dharavi and the Eastern Express via Everard Nagar. In fact, there was a time when to go from Thane to Juhu, you had no alternative but to come all the way to Sion and then turn around and go to Juhu. Thankfully these days, with the many east-west link roads that have come up, these round-about trips are slowly become a thing of the past.

And yet the traffic snarls don’t stop. The first one is at the Sion Hospital signal. The second is on Sion circle (try taking a turn to CineMax when you have come from Matunga) and the third is on the opposite side when you are coming from Chembur. Last Sunday, we managed Dehu Road to Sion in about 90 minutes and then spent around 30 minutes getting from just beyond Everard Nagar to Sion circle. I am sure the guys who conceived of the Sion circle flyover did all their home-work and are and were extremely wise; but a one-way flyover only from South-North and none in the opposite direction…makes no sense whatsoever. Another traffic snarl is outside CineMax, with a combination of tourist buses, the cars coming in and going out of the theatre’s parking lot and the cars being parked by the Peninsula valets.

As kids, we used to frequent the Gurukripa building to play in their game machines and to pig out on their samosas. Once in college, with most of my friends in SIES, that place became a kind of second home. And, with almost a decade of graduate and post-graduate education in Sion, and my wife being Sionite and my in-laws still living there…I guess my claim is well-established.

Sion has interesting neighbors. To the East is Koliwada with the repair shops and the Punjabi colonies as well as the entire CGHS quarters, now populated by Malayalees. On the West, is Dharavi, and unless you go back via Dadar and Mahim, that is the only way out of Sion to the Western suburbs.

But I still can’t figure out why Sion is called “Shiv” in Marathi and Hindi. Probably because of the fort?

Posted by bhavinj at 05:40 PM | Comments (0)

December 08, 2005

Story of Khotto (and that's not Gujarati)

This is my new piece that was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

“Ek khotto do”. Sounds really weird in Gujarati, since this translates into “give me a wrong ‘un” (and we’re not even bowling). As in “khotto sikko” – “false coin”. But, this is what we kept hearing at Idli House, the new idli place on the circle.

Funnily, we actually landed up at this place, because we had no money. One Sunday morning, after finishing a run in our favorite ground, the kids wanted to do an “idli-dosa” breakfast. We decided on Anand Bhuvan, but while walking there, when we checked the pockets of our virtually empty running shorts, we realized that we barely had a hundred rupees. We had already reached Garnish, when we saw Idli House, which as we found out later, had just started a couple of weeks back. Being suckers for that “new” eating experience, we decided to go in, but only after we had looked at the prices. When we saw that the most expensive item (the mudho) was just Rs. 12, we realized that we wouldn’t have to go back home to get more money and we went in and settled ourselves on one of the only three tables there.

My wife and daughter ordered two plain idlis, whereas I had a mudho, followed by a khotto. The mudho is an idli steamed in a kedki leaf and has to be unrolled from the leaf and then eaten, whereas the khotto is steamed in a jackfruit leaf shaped like a cup and can be spooned from the leaf itself. There was unlimited pure coconut chutney, sambhar and malgapuri to go with the idlis. The mudho was really nice, though the khotto tasted just like a regular plain idli… I guess it requires a slightly more refined palate than mine to make out the difference in taste. And finally when we finished along with two cups of coffee, the bill was still under Rs. 50. Wow!

Yet, when talking of idlis, how can we not talk about Muthuswamy’s fabulous “rice pancakes”– they are the softest idlis this side of the Vindhyas and melt like butter in your mouth – if you’ve not attended a birthday party or similar event where he has catered, you are obviously not part of the “with-it” Greater Matunga crowd. Just kidding! Unfortunately, Muthuswamy does not have a restaurant and is available only on phone, assuming of course, that he deigns to talk to you.

Yet, even his idlis don’t compare to the ones we had at the Leela Goa, around 3-4 years ago! It was an epiphanic moment, from which time our lives have been a bit miserable, since no idli from then on has tasted as divine!. Kind of like the “dahi” at the top of the Palitana shikhar, if you know what I’m talking about!

I have been using the word “South Indian” a bit too loosely and a recent email by Mrs. Hegdewar set things a bit straight. Just for the record, all the “South Indian” eateries in Matunga are in fact GSB (Gaud Saraswat Brahmans, for those who need full-forms) run, and khottos and mudhos are GSB and not Tamil or Malayalee delicacies. But what really got me thinking was this sentence of hers “Maybe we did not merit a mention from you as we are a quiet lot, seen and not heard, unlike the Gujjus.” The question is, “Are we Gujjus really all that loud?”

Posted by bhavinj at 04:40 PM | Comments (3)

November 22, 2005

Good food, palatable prices

This was the piece that was published in the Mumbai Mirror, today.

In a previous pseudo-socialist lifetime, mesmerized by Ayn Rand and living on endless cups of canteen chai, an article that Mr. Anil Dharker wrote, helped us fill at least three days of “serious” argument time, between our bridge breaks. Though my memory is a little weak twenty years later, it was probably in the now defunct Sunday Observer, that he wrote about a Rs. 10,000 dinner for two, that could be had at the Rotisserie, at that time the new French/Italian restaurant at The Oberoi.

Used to situations where even a Rs. 1000 bill in a “five-star” hotel restaurant was an expense you undertook only on the most memorable occasions, we were aghast that anyone would even think of dropping ten times that amount at a restaurant table.

Today, a simple vegetarian dinner for four with a decent bottle of wine, at restaurants like Wasabi, the Zodiac Grill or any of the ITC Grand or Hyatt Grand restaurants, puts you back by Rs. 10,000 or more. With a few exceptions (thank God for Bellissima with its seven course dinner for under Rs. 800), fine dining in Mumbai has become ridiculously expensive, especially when compared to many other parts of the world. For example, a dining experience at the Sirocco, in Bangkok, on the 64th floor terrace of one of the tallest buildings there, costs a quarter of that amount, the wine included.

Which is why it feels so nice to dine out in Matunga. You can take twelve people to the Matunga Gymkhana and keep the bill for vegetarian food, to under a thousand rupees, and that too, thanks to Nandita and Amit, for above average food. Or you can go to Rasna Punjab or Peninsula for “Punjabi” food, for rates maybe a little bit higher, or to Fu Yong, for probably the cheapest, decent Chinese food this side of town.

A few of us school-friends “try” to meet every three-six months. Our usual adda is Rasna Punjab, where the food is cheap and the drinks flow freely and cheaply. Once, a little tired of the same interiors, we decided to go to the Sports Bar in the Phoenix Mills Complex. The place was too loud to begin with and after two rounds, when someone actually looked at the prices, we shuddered, paid the bill and promptly drove back to Rasna to finish the other two rounds, topped finally with a little dinner.

Matunga must be the only place where the food gets cheaper as it gets better. You can take twelve people to any of the Udipi restaurants, and the bill will be cheaper than even at Matunga Gymkhana and that too for some of the best South Indian food outside the South Indian states.

And if you want to see really jaw-dropping prices, with some jaw-shutting food, think of trying the “khotto” and “mudho”, the next time you want to dine out. But more of that next week…..

PS: Having said all this, I did go to the Rotisserie when I was courting my girl-friend and managed to have a terrific seven course vegetarian meal for one-fifth of Mr. Dharker’s amount, with amazing service to boot, since we were the only table that night. She was so impressed that I am sure this played no mean part in her decision to finally agree to marry me.

Posted by bhavinj at 03:45 AM | Comments (1)

November 16, 2005

The Bollywood Walk of Fame

This article appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

A few days ago, a friend of mine was telling me about his brother-in-law who was cribbing about the high rates in a new building in one of the back roads of Matunga. Apart from the fact that new buildings in this area do command a premium, this particular lane commands an even higher premium for a variety of reasons, one of which is its history.

Way before the Kapoors moved to Anita’s glamorous Chembur gully, they first came to this small road in Matunga, then called the “College Back Road”, so called because of its location behind a famous college. After the Kapoors moved in, as Mr. Shammi Kapoor reminisces on his website, “With them came the Saigals (K.L. and Mahender), the Sethis' (Jagdish and Sudershan), the Puris' (Chaman and Madan), the Nandas' (J.K.), the Biswases' (Anil and Ashalata), the Singhs' (K.N.), the Zakarias' (Jayant), the Jairajs' (P.), the Mazumdars' (Phani), the Peshawaris' (Bismil), the Aroras'(P.N.), the Devis' (Sitara).” This was in the late 30s and 40s and for some time, this lane was often called the Hollywood of India. Many other actors and directors took up residence in some of the neighboring lanes as well, though College Back Road was the hub.

However, once the Kapoors moved to Chembur in the 50s, the exodus started, many moving with them and the rest going to Pali, Hill, Santacruz, etc. When Ram, the late actor and director, Mr. Manmohan Krishna’s son was growing up in the 70s, most of the first generation had already moved on and Ram grew up among those who had stayed back, most of whose kids, like him, have moved on to different professions.

In those days, as Ram put it, the lane had quite a reputation and was not as quiet as it now is. The triumvirate of Mr. Prithiviraj Kapoor, Mr. Jagdish Sethi and Mr. J K Nanda, used to walk in the lane, in the evenings, bare-chested in their lungis, creating quite a ruckus, in what was even then a predominantly Tamil and Gujjju area.

Today, the College Back Road has no living actor / actress left, and the entertainment industry has passed Matunga by. Mr. Shammi Kapoor still however sees this road with, sepia-tinged, nostalgia-rimmed spectacles, “A suburb of Bombay called Matunga housed those pages which would bedeck the golden annals of Indian Motion Picture and one day rightfully step into the archives of International Cinema.” That’s a lot of baggage to carry, for what is now, a quiet, tree-lined road, not easy to find, if you are not from Matunga, but like Altamount, Carmichael and Narayan Dabholkar roads, has become “the” address to have, if you live in Matunga, a step ahead of “Adenwalla Road”, “Jam-e-Jamshed Road”, and “Manikrao Lotlikar Marg”.

My friend’s brother-in-law was not from Matunga, and had no clue about all this. One reason also was that, as with all other roads in Mumbai, “College Back Road” (the college being either VJTI, or Khalsa), has also been renamed and is now called…“R P Masani Road”. And yes, Ram still lives here.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:55 PM | Comments (2)

November 07, 2005

Birds of a Feather....

This article appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Thomas Schelling won the Nobel Prize for Economics a few weeks ago, mainly for his work on “game theory”. One of his many theories, that has since been shown to be accurate, is the one on “racial segregation” where he shows that even with secular-minded families, there is a tendency to live with one’s own kind so that eventually, without pre-meditation, most neighborhoods become segregated.

He uses the example of white and black communities in the US to show that in predominantly white communities, the advent of black families can quickly tilt the balance towards a black neighborhood, as neighboring white families often move away and other black families quickly come in to take their place.

In Greater Matunga, the segregation is not color-based, but is community-based. Gujjus and Kutchhis predominate in virtually all neighborhoods, to the extent that in some areas (e.g. Manikrao Lotlikar Marg, the lane where I live), they form virtually 99% of all households. Tamils are now mainly in the area around Indian Gymkhana, the Maharashtrians in Hindu colony, the Roman Catholics between Don Bosco and St. Joseph’s and the Parsis in Parsi colony.

Within these segregated areas however, individual buildings may sometimes be different. So we have a building for Syrian Christians off RAK Rd near Talwalkar’s, and a bunch of Sindhi families and buildings near SIWS college and on RAK Rd.

Even the help congregates in specific areas. The cooks, all hailing from near the Udaipur area, live together in small hovels in Dharavi. Virtually, all our maids and menservants live in the Matunga Labor Camp area and the chauffeurs live in Antop Hill, Dharavi or the shanties behind Auxilium.

Amma explained to me that the first Tamil inhabitant, more than a 100 years ago, was probably a station master who moved to Matunga, from Parel, maybe because Matunga was cheaper and had more open spaces. Soon, English-educated, Tamm-Brahm bachelors started coming in droves, living in rented one-room places, in buildings owned by Gujjus/Kutchhis, working in town, with the Railways, the Government or the MNCs. In the early part of the century, Matunga was predominantly Tamil. Around WWII, many moved back to their home towns due to the fear of being bombed, and when they returned, they found that the Gujjus had discovered Matunga as a place to live in and the “pagdi” system had started. Those who could afford to, stayed on, but many then moved on to Chembur, Deonar, etc.

Gujjus and Kutchhis moved in here simply because it was cheaper than Walkeshwar and Princess Street. Though the law prohibits discrimination, since the majority of buildings were and still are landlord-owned properties, it was very easy to make sure that like-minded families came to live into these buildings.

Schelling is now proving to be more and more accurate. As the Tamils move to Cincinnati and Houston, as Hindu Colony migrates to Chicago and San Francisco, as the Roman Catholics move to Toronto, Sydney and Auckland, as the Parsis fail to replenish themselves and move to London, England and London, Ontario; the Gujjus/Kutchhis are taking over.

The day is not far before Narendra Modi or his successors establish a second capital in Greater Matunga.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:54 PM | Comments (0)

November 02, 2005

A Bit Listless

This is my Mumbai Mirror piece that was published yesterday.

A good number of people in Matunga have been born here, have studied here, married in the greater Matunga area, have delivered here, have had their children go to schools here and their children seem to be continuing the same tradition. There must be a reason for this.

In David Letterman style….

The Top Ten Reasons for Living in Matunga

10. Equidistant from Colaba and Borivli
9. Being a Gujju or Kutcchi and even better Jain…yes Tamil as well
8. Matunga gymkhana
7 All the other schools and colleges, excluding Don Bosco
6. The bhuttawala outside Jonette
5. Don Bosco
4. Matunga Market
3. The overall greenery
2. Five Gardens
1. The Udipi joints

The Top Ten Reasons for Not Living in Matunga
10.
9. No malls, multiplexes
8. No lounges, pubs, discos and fine-dining restaurants
7. Completely “non-happening”
6. Too many Gujjus, Kutchhis…and Tamils
5. The disappearance of all Navratri and dandia celebrations
4. Noise and air pollution on the main RAK and Ambedkar roads
3. The new monstrosities coming up all over Five Gardens, Adenwalla road, etc
2. The yearly constant flooding outside Gandhi market
1.

It doesn’t take much to figure why the “good” list is longer than the “bad”.

Posted by bhavinj at 12:44 PM | Comments (4)

October 20, 2005

How Green is My Matunga

This is the new Mumbai Mirror piece.

For some time now, I have begun to believe that I know almost everything there is to know about Matunga. And then last week, I saw Matunga from such a completely different perspective, that it punctured my balloon of presumptuousness, virtually immediately.

Jehangir Sorabjee, a friend and colleague, has been clicking different parts of the city, for the last seven odd years, from the sky. Literally! Whenever he gets the chance, he gets into a chopper and flies over the city, shooting pictures from overhead vantage points. He emailed me two pictures of Matunga, centred over King’s Circle, one from the north end, just above the flyover and one, as if he was hovering above Don Bosco.

Words cannot really replace the impact of the visual imagery, but until his book “Above Bombay” is out in December, they will have to do. King’s Circle takes centre-stage, seen as a round, completely green island, flourishingly verdant, rimmed by a grey concrete road, in turn rimmed by squat, flat buildings, all around the same height. Radiating from the circle, in a Beybladish manner, are seven spidery arms, which are the seven roads, including the main arterial Ambedkar road, which in turn resembles the quadriceps apparatus, the two parts of which appear interrupted by the sesamoid patella-like circle.

More importantly, except for the main arterial Ambedkar road, all the other five exits are tree-lined and green, to the extent that you can barely see the concrete, and their existence is apparent only because of the cars and people.

He then sent me one more high-resolution photograph centred over the Matunga railway tracks looking east. In this picture, the entire Greater Matunga area looks like a forest, the monotony as if broken by the buildings and the larger arterial roads, which are the only ones where you can see the concrete on the roads. You actually get a sense of the planning and thought that must have gone in at the time when this area was being developed.

And then, as Jehangir mentioned, you come down to ground reality; to the chaos and the filth, the paan-streaks and spittle-dabs … and it makes you want to cry. The beauty of an overhead shot is that it masks the griminess of the unpainted buildings with their peeling plaster and rain-water streaks and funnily, in an aerial shot, the drab gray, which is the hallmark of virtually all our landlord-owned buildings, actually helps make the green stand out, in contrast.

I tried to see if King’s Circle would show up on Google Earth in a similar manner, but it looks as if Google Earth is run by South Mumbaiites. All the lovely, high-resolution imagery ends at Mahalaxmi, and the rest of Mumbai is seen with such low-resolution that you can barely just make out the main arterial roads. But even here, the one thing that stands out among all the brown and grey terrain, is the green blob that is King’s Circle / Matunga.

Posted by bhavinj at 03:50 AM | Comments (0)

October 11, 2005

ABC to PhD

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Quiz Question: In which part of Mumbai, do you get four major institutions, meeting at one crossroad? Answer: Matunga.

Don Bosco, Khalsa College, VJTI and UDCT, all meet at a cross-road, which would deserve its own two-page spread, in any coffee-table book on famous cross-roads in India.

Before I proceed, its high time I added one more term to our vocabulary. “Greater Matunga”. Greater Matunga is the area from just before the Dadar circle, all the way upto Sion circle, with Matunga in the centre, encompassing parts of Wadala, Dadar and Sion. Not only do these areas have a connected history, they all share the same Matunga mentality.

Since I work in Girgaum, a large number of my colleagues believe I live somewhere in South Mumbai and express surprise at my knowledge of Matunga and the Greater Matunga area. But honestly, if you’ve lived your entire educational life in this area, if “Dadar to Sion” was your entire world for 21 years, wouldn’t you know the roads, the shops, the theatres, the gardens, the paanwallas, the doodhwala bhaiyyas, the railway stations, track crossings, the lover’s lanes, the speed-breakers and the traffic signal timings like the back of your hand?

And the funny thing is, it is actually possible to live your entire life in this area, without having to move out at all, except for social and entertainment purposes. You can live in the Greater Matunga area, go to school here as well as to junior college and if it happens, as it did in my case, even to a post-graduate college in this part of the world. Two major engineering institutes (UDCT and VJTI) and the second best medical college in the city (LTMMC, part of Sion Hospital) are to be found in this area, among other institutes of higher learning.

It must have been the cheap availability of land in the past that led to so many educational institutions starting in this area. The Greater Matunga area has a disproportionate number of schools and colleges, compared to the population that resides here. Starting with J B Vachha beyond Five Gardens, past St. Joseph’s and Auxilium, all the way upto Our Lady of Good Counsel in Sion, schools in this area comes in all shapes, sizes and budgets.

Upto about 10-15 years ago, kids would come from outside Matunga, to study in the Matunga schools. However, in the last decade or so, there has been a dramatic turn-around, where, despite the large number of schools in this area, a good number of kids go outside Matunga, to schools like Bombay Scottish, AVM, Dhirubhai Ambani, some even traveling all the way upto Mazgaon to St. Mary’s. The reason? One word…ICSE.

There is just one ICSE school in Matunga…Shishuvan. The rest are all SSC schools and today with SSC schools being considered inferior to ICSE schools, the so-called, well-heeled and connected Matungaens, follow the herd to the ICSE schools outside the area. To the extent that kids last year, were uprooted from many Matunga schools and put in a new school in Mahim, just beyond Bombay Scottish, despite this school being absolutely new, with no background, no track record and no history whatsoever.

However, when ICSE boys refuse to date SSC girls (the latest one from the rumor mills), and may in the future refuse to marry them as well, can you really blame parents for wanting the ICSE label for their children?

Posted by bhavinj at 07:14 PM | Comments (2)

September 27, 2005

Death do us together - Musubiai

This is my new piece that was published today in Mumbai Mirror. Not mentioned in the article, is the fact that musubiai is a term that I came upon while trolling the net at J Ito's site.

A few weeks ago, as I drove out of the Sion crematorium at around midnight, I couldn’t but help think of musubiai. Musubiai, in Japanese, describes the special relationship that develops among neighbors, usually in a village, where they will do anything for each other, a relationship whose value typically becomes most apparent during a death.

With only two degrees of separation in most of Matunga, as well as Wadala, Sion and parts of Dadar, the mentality is still reminiscent of a largish village and help in times of acute need is easily and spontaneously available. And nothing brings this out better than a death in the family.

The moment it comes to be known that someone has died, not only do the relatives converge on the apartment, but the neighbors throw open their doors and hearts without the need to be told. If the relatives are few or none, the neighbors take on a more important role, but even otherwise they are amazingly supportive.

Everything from clothing the body, arranging it carefully, calling the hearse, or making the pall with bamboo sticks, carrying the body, either into the hearse or all the way upto the crematorium, making sure that the cremation occurs as per tradition and in time, helping with feeding the relatives, opening up their apartments for relatives and friends, when there is lack of space, or providing chairs and other furniture, taking care of young, bewildered children, providing a shoulder to cry upon and giving time…are all things that …just happen.

Its funny. Despite all the sloganeering about “our Indian culture”, we provide no dignity to the living and dying. But dignity after death is a given, whether it is an unclaimed, roadside body or you and I. You can see it when the traffic parts to let the pall-bearers and the procession walk through. Or when people drop everything they are doing to fulfill their musubiai. And surprisingly this attitude even extends to the BMC employees in the Sion crematorium, which can come as a pleasant surprise to all those who have ever dealt with any department in the BMC. Even to get the body out of a morgue takes money, but once you are in the crematorium, the workers are really helpful, non-obstructive and make it very easy for the entire process to be completed without any major fuss.

Musubiai also helps in keeping the grief in check. When friends and family rally around, and lunch and dinner have to be cooked and guests have to be taken care off, and many small details and rituals need to be attended to, it helps take your mind off the loss. It is only later, when everyone has gone and all the neighbors are back to their usual grind, that the loneliness and that gnawing, empty feeling in your heart hit you, yet a little less hard than it would have otherwise.

However, there will come a day, when even in Matunga, musubiai will become an alien concept. There are too many high-rises that are coming up now, where people won’t even know their next-door neighbors and until the stink escapes the room into the landing, will have no idea that their neighbor staying alone has been dead for over a week. But until then, musubiai”, even though some of us find it obtrusive, is well and alive and kicking in our part of the world.

Posted by bhavinj at 02:38 PM | Comments (0)

September 19, 2005

Ganpati Hopping

This is my new piece for Mumbai Mirror, that appeared today.

Saturday before last, we made a big mistake. We decided to take the kids out for Ganpati darshan, and unfortunately, we started first with the GSB Ganpati at the Cosmopolitan grounds. It was like starting an Agatha Christie book from the last page – every pandal we saw later that day seemed a little disappointing.

There were people everywhere, queuing up for long periods of time, just to be able to get a short glimpse of their favorite God. Ravi gave us a guided tour and some of the numbers he reeled out were mind-boggling - jewellery and gold valued at almost Rs 6 crores adorning the idol, more than 20 lakhs of people visiting in the five days that the Ganpati is kept for and more than 15,000 people fed every afternoon and evening. Maybe, if we ran our disaster management with the same logistics, the city would be far better off.

We then took a cab to the crossroad before Matunga Gymkhana and started our Ganpati hopping. Most of these were located in building compounds or on the roads and in a short 100 meter area upto the market, there must have been at least eight or so. The kids were excited with the first two or three, especially since they could see the idols from a close distance, but after that, Ganpati fatigue took over. In the end there are just so many museums, towers or monuments that you can visit when you are touring, just so many bars that you can crawl into at night and just so many chocolates that you can eat at one time.

Last Sunday, on Anant Chaturthi, we again took the kids out for Ganpati darshan, this time onto the main road. The entire place resembled a “mela” from an old 70s film with road-side stalls selling every thing from vada-pav to toys and even multi-colored bangles. Except for a small lane for cars, the entire stretch from Sion to Dadar was just filled with people. We clung to the kids hoping not to repeat a “lost and found” scene.

This is probably the only time when you see so many people at one time in Matunga. There were old ladies sitting on the road on their own plastic chairs, kids from the BJ Home sitting quietly in three rows on the kerbside, parents holding their kids up Ganpati style on their shoulders so that they could get a better view of the idols, bystanders breaking spontaneously into shuffle-dances when the idols came near, people scrambling behind the trucks trying to pick up some “prasad” and some people just circumambulating, trying not to miss any sight or a single idol.

Unlike a cricket match, this atmosphere can never be captured by live coverage on TV. Though it’s pretty hilarious when the commentators keep saying things like “See that Ganpati is going (or coming)” or “Now everyone is dancing” or “Now everyone is happy”, etc.

Finally after having had our fill of Ganpatis and the noise and the crowds, we went for dinner. At the table, seriously in thought, my son, whose current favorite superhero is Hanuman, turned to me. “Who is stronger, Bheem or Hanuman?”. I said, “Hanuman”. He continued, “Then who is stronger, Hanuman or Ganpati?”. I said, “Ganpati”. He slowly shook his head in disagreement and till we finished dinner, there was nothing I could say that would convince him. Can anyone tell for sure?

Posted by bhavinj at 05:39 PM | Comments (4)

September 11, 2005

Matunga's Running Problem

This is today's Mumbai Mirror piece.

"2BHK, 5 minutes from Five Gardens”. Ads such as these are guaranteed to catch your eye. Never mind that the building is actually in Parel and the promised “5 minutes” to Five Gardens, is actually a fast drive at 5AM in the morning, without traffic and signals.

But, that is the pull of the “Five Gardens”, which together form one of the largest green spaces in the Matunga, Wadala area. Not only do these gardens provide the necessary open space and greenery, they also serve as community place, where people of all kinds converge: to walk, run, exercise, play, socialize, flirt and neck.

The perimeter of the gardens provides a concrete walkway, where in the early mornings and late evenings, you find people of all shapes and sizes; most walking, a few running, some slow, some fast, some working-out and some just preening. The place has its own pecking order, but you need to be a regular to understand it.

And yet, running or walking in Five Gardens, is not as great as it is made out to be. Since the perimeter is bisected by two large roads, you have to stop virtually every quarter of the way along, to let traffic pass. And though less, there is still no getting away from the noise and smoke that comes with the buses, taxis and cars passing by. And as with all decent open spaces in this city, peak walking times often resemble busy Bhuleshwar streets.

Furthermore, walking on concrete is not the best way to learn Newton’s second law; you know, the one that says that “every action has an equal and opposite reaction”. The more you pound the concrete, the more it pounds your cartilage back, and it’s just a matter of time before the complaining knees start creaking and groaning.

The problem is, there aren’t too many alternatives. Walking or running inside the gardens is not easy because of the grass and gravel. Some of the smaller nearby lanes, such as RP Masani Lane, the VJTI lane and the roads around Don Bosco help if you don’t want to bump into people all the time, but the concrete and pollution remain. One friend of mine, just to get away from the crowds, actually runs at 5.30AM on RAK Rd (char rasta) in the middle two lanes, upto Sewri and back.

Unfortunately, Matunga lacks an enclosed space like a Jogger’s Park or a Priyardarshini. Maheshwari Udyan is too small and not exercise-friendly at all. The nearest large garden is Bhakti Park in Wadala East, near the IMAX, but that’s a good 20 minutes drive away from Matunga and is slowly getting crowded as well.

For those who don't want to run, there are alternatives like the gyms at Matunga Gujarati Club, Matunga Gymkhana and Talwalkar's in Wadala. Which are not bad options, but they lack the glamour of some of the newer, trendier gyms that have come up in other parts of town.

Having said that, one of Mumbai's best mud-tracks for walking and jogging is also one of Matunga's best-kept secrets. Few people know about it, and even fewer use it. .....and honestly, Viplav would kill me, if I mention another word!

Posted by bhavinj at 04:24 AM | Comments (1)

August 28, 2005

Two Degrees of Separation

About five years ago, I had written a similar piece as well, called "Its a Small World" (at the time I did not know the concept of six degrees of separation), after attending a party, where between my wife and I, we landed up knowing almost everyone who had come to the party.

This is today's Mumbai Mirror piece.

A decade ago, we were visiting my wife’s cousin in Chicago. A young man had come in from Idaho to “see” her, after having passed her first two tests of being Jain and vegetarian. After we were introduced, he mentioned his cousin sisters who lived in Jain Society in Sion. As it happened, they had studied in J B Vaccha and my wife happened to know them reasonably well. For the next two hours, the whole topic of conversation revolved around Sion, Matunga and common friends. The cousin felt completely left out, since she had no clue what we were talking about, and kept getting more and more irritated as time went by. The next day, she just blew the poor guy off!

As a kid, whenever I used to go to Matheran or Mahabaleshwar during Diwali or summer, the common refrain from my parents was, “Half of Matunga is here”! And typically during the evening stroll through the market-place, we would meet someone who was a familiar face for my Mom either from the bhaji-market, or the derasar, or Don Bosco or Auxilium (my sister’s school). As if that was not enough, more often than not, the next-door neighbor at Rugby or Fountain would either be from Matunga, or had in-laws living in Matunga, or had once lived in Matunga or was hoping to shift to Matunga… there was always a connection.

I have almost stopped getting surprised by the “it’s such a small world” exclamation that follows the discovery of these common links. As when Aanchal emailed me after one of the earlier pieces, lamenting the lack of interest that townie Mumbaiites showed in her dance class in Sion, and after a couple of email exchanges, we figured out that she lived just four buildings away and that her niece and my kids were friends at the nearby playground. Or when Ravi emailed me and it turned out that he was Sai’s nephew, Sai being the owner of the Air-Conditioned Udipi, which we frequent almost every other Sunday. One of the best stories I heard however, was from my friend’s brother, who was traveling through a remote part of Guadalajara in Mexico and stopped off at a shop where Hindi songs were playing and found the owner to be the brother of the same guy who owned the dhaba in Koliwada, where he used to go to eat fish fry in his younger days.

Sometime back, Hemang emailed me, probably from a cell-phone “evrywhere i see der r kacchis only..people in matunga r like chain ..where evryone knows each other ..which is not visible in oder parts of Bombay”. I guess he was just trying to point out why Matunga is a great village to live in.
“Six Degrees of Separation” is a theory that was first written about in the 1920s. In the 1950s, a couple of scholars proved that a connection can be found between any two people in the world, in just six steps. I guess they didn’t know about Matunga and Matungaeans, where everyone seems to know everyone, and if they don’t, they know someone who does. Making it just two degrees of separation…wherever in the world we Matungaeans may be.

Posted by bhavinj at 08:37 AM | Comments (2)

August 19, 2005

Hooked and booked

This is my Mumbai Mirror piece that appeared today.

“I want ‘The Invincible Man’?” I firmly insisted on picking up this book, the first time, Dad took me to Abbas Circulating Library on the south-west corner of King’s Circle.

I must have been 7 years old and had just come across the word “Invincible” somewhere and it remained stuck in my mind. When I saw this Enid Blyton title, I forced my unconvinced Dad to pick it up. That was my first “Fatty” book and as it turned out, it was actually “The Invisible Man”, the seventh in the series. For the next year or so, someone would come with me to Abbas to change books weekly and within a year I had managed to get through the entire Fatty series. Then came the Famous Five, the Secret Seven followed by Jupiter Jones, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. Along with these were the Batman/Superman, Phantom/Mandrake and the Spiderman/Fantastic Four comics as well as the Richie Rich, Casper and Archies comics and digests.

My reading habits were entirely supported by Abbas in those days and I don’t remember books being bought for me, except for some Amar Chitra Kathas. Abbas in those days, was a non-air-conditioned shop with a characteristic, musty smell of old books and moldy furniture. The rentals were very affordable and once you were a regular, Abbas often let minor late charges slip by.

By the time we were in the 10th , along with Alistair MacLean, we started furtively exploring James Hadley Chase and a couple of years later, Harold Robbins and Jackie Collins. I also ran through all the L’amours and some other Westerns. In parallel, started my love affair with Wodehouse and the sci-fi greats such as Asimov, Clarke and Heinlein.

It was then that I realized that there was a world outside Abbas. I joined the British Council and realized that there were good authors outside the popular realm as well. But there were times when neither Abbas nor the British Council could help, which is when the road-side booksellers at King’s Circle, would come to the rescue. Call it coincidence or my fortune, but each time I wanted an Asimov Foundation title, especially after having immediately finished reading the previous one, or a Tolkien, it was available on the road, at amazingly cheap prices. As were Anita Desais, John Irvings and Vikram Seths.

But as my tastes veered to obscure noire and sci-fi authors (including Philip Dick in those days), it was time to take succour with Smoker’s Corner on PM road. Though both were always helpful, Mr. Bootwala always had something more up his sleeve than Mr. Shanbhag of the nearby Strand Book House.

Abbas also moved on. He added video rentals and in the later years, video, CD and DVD rentals. The original place became a Baskin Robbins and is now a farsan place and he moved upstairs into a smaller, sterile, air-conditioned loft, completely destroying the charm of the old place. And yet, while other libraries have fallen by the wayside, Abbas has survived! Innovating and keeping pace with changing reading patterns and trends, he’s always had all the popular books and comics available. Where else would all the women in Matunga get their Mills and Boons to satiate/feed their romantic desires?

As I finish the Half-Blood Prince, it’s all come a full-circle. From Blyton to Rowling, from Fatty to Potter! And Abbas, making it all easily available!

Posted by bhavinj at 08:35 AM | Comments (1)

August 12, 2005

Gujjus (and Kutcchis) rule

This is today's post in the Mumbai Mirror.

In the context of the Gujjufication of Matunga, Swapna sent this mail, “Today GUJJUS rule everywhere. And by everywhere i mean everywhere!!! Forget matunga , u find them everywhere. the suburbs overflow with them, travel in a local train and i bet half the compartment will be yelling across to each other in gujrathi. Its almost like an epidemic! Earlier it was uncool to be a gujju…Now it is totally COOL to be a gujju!”

“Gujjus (& Kutchhis) rule!” Nowhere is this as epitomized as in Matunga.

In Kal Ho Naa Ho, when Saif goes home for his parents’ anniversary celebrations, he makes no effort to hide his embarrassment at his parents’ antics, especially when they sing the “Gujju” song - G for gathiya, U for undhiya, J for jalebi, J for Jamnagar, etc. Actually, I was a little confused at his embarrassment! Was it his character’s innate Americanness being an ABCDEFG (American Born Confused Desi Emigrated from Gujarat), or was it the fact that the script-writer, the director, the producer and Saif himself are all Punjabis / North Indians, who love to poke fun at other communities in their films?

Offering a counterpoint, is Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai, on Star One, one of the few adult, intelligent sitcoms on Indian television today. The senior Sarabhai couple is a rich Gujju pair, their dermatologist son having married a middle-class Punjabi from Patiala, who thinks “vixen” is pleural for “Vicks” and asks her husband not to forget to get extra key-chains from the car-dealer after he buys a 1 crore SUV. The sitcom works brilliantly most of the times, mainly because of its ability to self-deprecatingly make fun of its own innate Gujjuness, at the same time poking fun at other communities, without being offensive.

Mrs. Sarabhai (Ratna Pathak Shah - who incidentally is a Five Gardens product), seems to live in Malabar Hill / Walkeshwar, but could as well have been living in New York or North London or Toronto (if you’ve met Gujjus/Kutchhis from these cities, you’ll know what I’m talking about) and constantly sniffs at the infra-dig attitudes of middle-class Gujjus living in the suburbs. Which includes Matunga, which really is the next Gujju bastion after Malabar Hill / Walkeshwar.

Maybe its the two “derasars” (Jain temples), maybe it’s the fact that there are already so many Gujjus already living in Matunga, maybe it’s the large number of schools and the relative peace and quiet, but middle and upper middle-class Gujjus and Kutchhis have, over the years, quietly infiltrated almost all of Matunga, Wadala and Sion, the majority of households represent slightly downmarket versions of the Sarabhai household. Which partly goes a long way in explaining the Matunga mentality.

Naturally, Matunga, Wadala and Sion are now intensely Gujjufied. All shop-keepers of all shades and stripes speak Gujarati, as do all the doctors in the area, as well as the bais, chauffeurs and vegetable sellers. And even the sambhar is a shade sweeter in all the Udipi joints.

The best part is the spill-over effect. On Saturdays and Sundays, even the coffee shop at the ITC, in neighboring Parel, resembles an upmarket Gujju / Kutchhi wedding…including the mandatory Jain counter on the side.

Posted by bhavinj at 02:15 PM | Comments (3)

August 04, 2005

Rain-Soaked Memories

This appears in today's Mumbai Mirror.

It is so ironic that what sustains life can treacherously take it away as well. And yet, amidst all the chaos and misery that has been wrought by the rains over the last week, run memories of fun times as well.

Until I finished my PG, I didn’t move out of the Bosco, Ruia, Sion area. The focal point during each rainy season, was (and still is), the regular water-logging of the Gandhi Market area, which would cut-off King’s Circle and the rest of South and Central Mumbai from Sion and the Eastern suburbs. There were gangs of boys who would line the roads knowing fully well that the “delcos” in the Premier Padminis would eventually get wet, and the cars would stall, and they would be able to make some money pushing the cars through the water to the nearest mechanic. And surprise, surprise…the mechanics would be waiting just beyond the waters!

In school, we were guaranteed at least three holidays each rainy season, becase the school buses would not be able to bring in any of the kids from Sion. Since I stayed just a five minutes walk away, I would anyway walk to school to find out if it was a holiday and then call up my friends staying further away, telling them not to come (provided the phone lines were working, which they weren’t half the times). In today’s day and age, I guess I’d just SMS everyone in my phone-book. Which is actually how we’ve come to know about school closures this week anyway!

The first rains would always make us heady. Whether it was from the tar on the road outside the house or the mud in the school-grounds, the smell of fresh earth permeating the air, was giddily intoxicating. We would either land up playing “gully cricket” or football in the school-grounds, soaking wet, and then land up home for a hot bath and scolding.

And it was de rigeur to get our white socks, shoes and in the later years, our white pants, splattered by the wet mud, before the first morning period and then to swagger into class, like some heroes who had just vanquished Gabbar Singh. The teachers always let the “dirty” look pass during the rains…as long as the home-work was clean.

Memories! Of gingerly finding a route to Sion via Telang road and Bhaudaji road that would prevent my shoes from getting soaked. Of swimming past Shamukhananda Hall to reach my wife who was staying at her mother’s house, near Tamil Sangam, to deliver dry clothes for the next day. Of driving a Honda City through 2 feet of water, just to check whether the company claims of being able to do so were true (they were!).

The dinners of many families in Matunga have a direct connection with a water-logged Gandhi Market. In the morning after heavy rains at night, frantic efforts are made by the womenfolk, to find out from the “doodhwallah bhaiyyas” whether Gandhi Market is flooded or not, and if so, how high the water level is. Which tells them whether the cook and the “bai” from Dharavi and labour camp, etc. will be coming or not. Which decides how the rest of their day will go. Which decides what the family gets served for dinner!

Posted by bhavinj at 04:59 AM | Comments (2)

July 29, 2005

Surviving Terrible Tuesday

This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.

My wife was stuck on the top of Parel flyover for 2 hours from around 4.00PM, trying to get to Matunga. Not having moved an inch, she turned around and went to the ITC Grand at Parel for a much-needed loo and coffee break, after some taxi drivers removed the intervening divider stones. While waiting to get back into the car at around 6.30PM (she finally reached home 2 hours later), she saw an out-of-towner who wanted to go to Lifestyle at Phoenix, angrily yelling at his driver for coming late. Bijal tried to tell him that leaving ITC, at that time, was insane, but he refused to listen and drove off with his family. Tourists can be so stupid sometimes!

At midnight, my Dad and I finally decided to drive home to Matunga, from Girgaum. We actually reached the flyover after Phoenix Mills in 7 minutes flat - no traffic, no water-logging, a few stray people and complete “sannata” all along the way. Seeing a flowing river below, we turned back, and then tried Tilak Bridge, but turned back halfway between Siddhi Vinayak and Shivaji Park, then from Portuguese church as well and later from below the Parel flyover, having reached there via the S bridge past Jacob Circle. Having turned back from the Bhoiwada road after Tata Hospital, we finally went onto RAK Road, reached Wadala and parked our car on a free pavement and hoofed it up, reaching home at 2.00AM.

We were the lucky ones. My sister’s husband was stuck between Andheri and Santacruz, alone in his car for over 16 hours. Bijal’s brother reached his home in Andheri, at 2.00AM after having walked 10 kms. My mother-in-law was stuck until Thursday, in Nallasopara, where she had gone for some work, . My 80-years old uncle walked back to Matunga from Masjid.

There was complete chaos when we walked from Wadala to Matunga, but it needed the morning light to truly appreciate the madness. There were vehicles of all kinds, clogging both sides of each and every big or small road in Wadala, Five Gardens and Matunga, along with crowds of people, walking, trying to find a way home. Some were palpably lost - like the guy who thought Khalsa college was Ruparel college and that he was in Matunga West. Most cars hadn’t moved for over 12 hours. People who had hit Don Bosco by 8PM had reached Aurora (200 meters away) by 8AM. There was no food, no water and most cellphone batteries had died down.

Except for the people who helped each other and locals who tried to help those who were stuck, everyone and everything failed us. The weather services, traffic police, the fire-brigade, most cellular networks, the land-lines, the railways, Reliance Energy, the politicians, everyone…

I know one thing about this city of ours. Whenever disaster strikes, we cannot and should not expect any help from our authorities and services. We must assume that we will be on our own and each one of us needs to have some sort of a Plan B in place for such situations. Or pray to God, or whatever…..

PS: Those who have waded through water, please talk to your local GP for doxycycline prophylaxis against leptospirosis.

Posted by bhavinj at 04:56 AM | Comments (0)

July 22, 2005

Girls and the All-Boys's School

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

“Sunita, I love you”. Someone, in class XD, had written out these words in chalk, on the outside wall, directly facing Khalsa College. Seven upset Sunitas landed up in the principal’s office that day. The whole division was hauled up, and I can’t remember whether anyone really owned up, but we all thought it was pretty cool!

We had our own pretty “Sunitas” in Don Bosco anyway. Each year’s annual day production saw a good number of “women” taking part, and it was only because you knew that it was an all-boys’ school, that you also knew that they were “boys”. How could you then blame Oedipus for following in love with his “mother” or the male lead who took his own time in “Taming the Shrew” or those who thought the belly-dancer was the best part of Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

The annual day productions have always been awesome. These days the politically correct thing to do is to have as many students on stage as possible, so that no one feels left out. Two decades ago, you made it onto stage, only if you were very good. If you weren’t cut out to act, you weren’t, and that was that!

We also had access to virtually any sport that you can think of (yes, even billiards and tennis!). And, come to think of it, we could have even had a mini-golf course. Though the school is known for winning hockey, football, basketball and sometimes cricket championships, our biggest passion was square-ball, in which we would have won even the world championships. Unfortunately, the game itself seems to have died down a decade or so ago…the current rage is something called handminton.

None of these extra-curricular activities however would have been happened, if it hadn’t been for our teachers and the priests. Most of them have since retired or passed away and I would love to list all of them, but I am allowed only 500 words. So here’s to them: “to all our teachers who made a difference, thank you! Take a bow!”

There is always an indescribable ethos that pervades every school with unwritten laws and behavioral patterns developed over decades, which students inadvertently imbibe. These, along with the peer group, apparently more than parental values (that’s what the child psychologists say these days), shape children. Though in junior college, most Boscoites are hormonally charged, libidinous animals, suddenly let loose from an all-boys cage, in later years, the “better” values start kicking in. These are what make us different and are probably why the vast majority of Boscoites do exceedingly well in life. Which is also why you wonder how parents can flock to new start-up schools, just because they are “different” or “ICSE” or whatever, when these schools still haven’t had the time to develop any character.

PS:
Another great institution along the fringes of Matunga, J B Vachha High School, lost its principal early this week. I came to know Mrs. Khorshed Bharucha, in her last few years and was impressed by her quiet dignity and courage in the face of what she had to endure. Though she had a great support system in the form of her students, friends and family, any lesser person would have crumbled and given up a long time ago. I know that words cannot in any way replace the loss that her family is facing, but we all share their sorrow. We will miss her!

Posted by bhavinj at 06:48 PM | Comments (0)

July 14, 2005

All South Indians are not Madrasis

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

Indira emailed me after last week’s piece and listed her “Four Pillars” of Matunga; Giri Stores, Mysore Concerns, Anand Bhuvan and Nalli Silk Stores. The funny thing about this list, as I emailed back to her, is that, except possibly for Anand Bhuvan, the other three don’t even come up in the far distant horizon of my vision. This is an entirely Tamil vision of Matunga, “little Madras”, as she calls it.

As a Gujju, I can’t but wonder what the “Four Pillars” for Gujjus & Kutcchis would be. Probably Garnish/Classic, Anand Bhuvan/Air-conditioned Udipi, Chheda Stores and Pramanik/Milap. The Udipi joints will feature on all lists, simply because idlis, dosas and vadas are now universal.

Its amazing how Matunga can be so different for different people. In my first piece, I had mentioned about the “right” place to live in. That depends on who you are. The “right” place, if you’re Tamil, is to the left of the main road when you’re facing Sion, i.e. the Westside and the “right” place for Gujjus, is to the right of the main road, i.e. the Eastside.

Most Gujjus (for that matter, most north Indians), believe that everyone south of Mumbai is a “Madrasi” and speaks “undugundu”. It was thanks to the multi-cultural nature of Don Bosco, that reasonably early in life, I figured out that “Madrasis” were not all “Madrasis”. That just like there are Gujaratis, Marwaris, Punjabis, Sindhis, there are Kannadigas, Malayalees, Tulus, Reddys, Kammas, Tamils, etc. Two of my best friends are Tamil, both coincidentally staying on the Eastside and from them I also learnt the difference between Palghat Brahmins, Iyers and Iyengars, that ‘panande’ means twelve and the reason why many Iyengars have blue eyes.

Sadly, this East-West divide is reducing. Simply because, most Tamils are leaving and either migrating to the US or going away to places like Chembur, Dombivli and Sanpada. With each new construction boom, Gujjus and Kutcchis are are taking over both sides of Matunga.

And very likely, 10-15 years from now, Mysore Concerns will sell fresh gathiya and jalebis, the smell of fried besan, replacing the coffee aroma that currently pervades the vicinity. Nalli Silk Sarees will become Pramanik for Ladies, and Giri Stores will become a Navneet Publications outlet. Only the Udipi joints will remain, but they were never Tamil to begin with and are run by Naiks and Shettys originally from South Karnataka.

PS: Swapna emailed me, saying that if I have problems with Matunga East (the Matunga that I write about), what about the plight of those like her, who live in Matunga West! For those who don’t know, Matunga West is a cluster of roads nestled between Mahim and Dadar stations, with Ruparel college and Star City (earlier Badal, Bijlee, Barkha) as its most famous landmarks. The two Matungas incidentally are connected by the “Z” footbridge.

Its weird! Just as we are more racist towards blacks than the whites were ever to us, Matunga East’s attitude to Matunga West is worse than the South Mumbai attitude to Matunga East. Forget about a superiority complex…people in Matunga East don’t even acknowledge that the other Matunga (West) exists.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:46 PM | Comments (8)

July 05, 2005

Matunga, What's That!

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

As a child, I often had to visit a cousin, living on Napean Sea Road. Once that cousin had friends visiting.
“Where do you live?”
“King’s Circle, Matunga”
“Oh…..”
“Uh….”
“Where’s that?”
“After Dadar and before Sion.”
“Sion comes when we go to Lonavla, doesn’t it?”
“It’s the circle that comes before”
“Oh…”
There was a pregnant pause during which they tried to digest the fact that someone actually lived in such places. For the sake of gastric stability, I was then promptly ignored and left to my own devices.

I remembered this, during a meeting last Saturday in Powai. We were discussing a suburban project, when I questioned its usefulness. My colleague immediately compared me to another senior professor, who questioning the viability of the project, had told him, “but Mumbai ends at Mahim.” Which, I told him, was much better than “Mumbai ends at Worli”, that a couple of my friends practicing in Girgaum, keep saying.

It then struck me how Matunga can be a less than 4 minutes blip on the car radar, a blurry 1.5km montage of buildings and shops, nestled between Dadar and Sion. That morning, short of time, I drove drive directly to Powai from Girgaum, without stopping off at home. From the Ruia college signal, in three minutes flat, I swung past King’s Circle, stopping momentarily at the Brahmanwada signal, from where in another half-minute, I was past Gandhi Market, and out of Matunga. Compare this to Powai. Though the drive from the Sion to the LBS Marg flyovers, took just 17 minutes, it took another 35 minutes just to reach the Renaissance. Powai just seemed to go on and on and on…

So, I am not sure I blame the “South Mumbai” types. Unless you have relatives or friends in Matunga or love Udipi food or have studied in VJTI or UDCT, there really is no reason to know anything about the place, except that it comes on the way to Lonavla.

Rarely though, you can get pleasantly surprised. A few years ago, Dad’s friend invited us for dinner to Bombay Brasserie, in Worli. They stayed on Carmicheal road and his son and daughter-in-law had just returned for good, after 7-8 years in the US. We went reluctantly, not knowing what level of snootiness to expect. At the table, we were all trying hard to find common-ground, when the daughter-in-law mentioned that she used to live at Five Gardens, part of the Matunga mentality coverage. When she and my wife realized that they were both Vachhaites, and that too, just a couple of years apart, they promptly sat down next to each other and gossiped the evening away. And the rest of us managed to amuse ourselves at their expense.

Plus c’a change, plus c’est la meme chose. Twenty five years after the Nepean Sea Road incident, at South Mumbai events, the mention of Matunga as a place of residence, still manages to raise an eyebrow. Sometimes, both…, and I am sure the rest as well, if we had more.

Posted by bhavinj at 06:44 PM | Comments (0)

June 27, 2005

No Mall-Practice in Matunga

This was published in today's Mumbai Mirror.

There is a small shop called Vijay Stores, on the market road from King’s Circle, just after the turn. It sells undergarments, socks, handkerchiefs, pajamas and all items that come under the heading “hosiery”. The owners sit at the till and also look after the customers – they know my preferences – the moment I enter the shop, all the right stuff is laid out for me to see – new items are also tentatively displayed, in case I might want to look at something different – and they have most of the new brands and styles that are advertised and found in other upmarket shops as well.

The same thing happens when my wife goes to Pramanik or West View or when my Mom goes to Chheda Stores.

Compare this to the SOP and script driven service, rendered by shop assistants and clerks, in big stores and malls. Sure, they’ll be nice and courteous and polite and sometimes may even be really interested in helping you…but they will be gone tomorrow and deep down, have no commitment to want to be nice to you and sell to you. And no amount of CRM software can match the innate superiority of a neural circuit that makes the bhajiwala outside Matunga market remember my Mom and her specific preference for a particular type of potato, even after an absence of six months.

So when the rest of Mumbai sings paens to the glory of malls, I wonder where the real progress is. Customer service? Naah! Choice? Absolutely. Even though the whole of the Circle and the station road upto Matunga Gymkhana (the Matunga downtown), is a huge open-air mall anyway, choices are restricted. Whereas, if you don’t like the stuff at Wills Lifestyle, there’s always Pantaloons, or Marks & Spencer, or other more focussed niche-shops, all enclosed within one common space at Phoenix Mills.

So it actually becomes very simple. When I know what I want, and I want the personalized service I am used to, I shop locally. When I am not sure of what I want and I need a lot of choice, I go to the malls. And drive out of Matunga. Which is as it should be!

Most of Matunga is a pretty nice place to live in. Most roads are quiet, there is a reasonable sense of camaraderie with the neighbors, the kids can play gully cricket in most streets and there is minimal noise and air pollution the further away you are from the “downtown” and RAK road.

Malls and multiplexes are magnets for people and cars…traffic…noise…pollution. All cumulative. All of which makes the adjacent area a bit more painful to live in.

Take the area around CineMax (CinePlanet, until last month), in Sion, for example. There is complete chaos. These days, it can take upto around 15 minutes, just to get from Sion Circle into the theatre. The area is noisy and crowded and an impossibly difficult place to walk through as well. Its definitely not a very nice place to live in. As compared to our single-screen theatre, Aurora. Though it rarely has a worthwhile Hindi movie running (Tamil films are not counted)…there is never ever a traffic jam outside.

My take! Let Mulund and Malad and Borivli and Parel and Vashi have their big malls and multiplexes and five-star and seven-star hotels…we’all come there to have a good time…but, please, don’t bother returning the favor to Matunga. We’re fine the way we are…thank you!

PS:
After the last piece on “Dimple Ice-Cream”, Dineshbhai sought me out and called me to clarify that only one brother had migrated to the US. He himself is still living in Matunga and makes Dimple ice-cream for wedding caterers. Wow…and all these years, I was completely clueless…

Posted by bhavinj at 06:43 PM | Comments (3)

June 16, 2005

Dimple on the Cheek of Matunga

Way before Baskin Robbins almost killed Abbas (the circulating library), way before the softy ice-cream wars erupted along the southern corner of “the Circle” and way before Kwality, Vadilal and other similar brands…there was “Dimple Ice-Cream”.

Dimple Ice-Cream was “home-made” ice-cream, made manually in an ice-cream churner, by Dimple, which was a snack-bar opposite Don Bosco. It doesn’t exist today…about 15 odd years ago, it was bought over and in its place today stands a typical fast-food joint called Classic, which serves everything from Chinese to pav-bhaji to South Indian food (though why anyone would want to have idlis in Classic as against Mysore Café is beyond me!).

Dimple used to serve sandwiches, bhel, juices, milk-shakes and of course, their signature ice-cream, of which “sitafal” was the best. The owners were Gujarati and used to sit at the counter and knew their customers by face and name. I was a regular there during short-recess from school. I was given Re. 1 by my Mom, which I had to hand over to the guy at the counter, in return for one sandwich and their pumpkin-tomato ketchup.

The mezzanine floor was air-conditioned and during the day, was used by couples from Khalsa college. As school-kids we would often sit below and try and figure out from the shadows moving against the partly opaque glass, whether those couples were necking or not.

People used to come from all over the place to eat the ice-cream or to order out. Home-made ice-cream is different from the factory-made ice-cream that we are used to. It is colder and takes longer to melt and if you’re not careful and eat too much immediately, the cold can hit your frontal sinuses instantaneously.

The owners eventually left, but I didn’t know where they had gone, until an incident that occurred in 1994 in the US. This is one among similar other instances, that makes me less and less surprised at coincidences and the fact that we are such a small world.

My wife and I were traveling from New York to Atlantic city, with an older friend, when we stopped for a quick lunch in a small, one gas-station town in New Jersey, that I was told was an “Indian town”. It had saree shops, a dosa place and other Indian shops. We were having dosas in the dosa joint, when I saw across the road, a fast-flood parlor called “Dimple”. I mentioned to my friend that we used to have a similar snack-bar back home and then on an impulse I walked across the road to have a look. And…you guessed right…they were the same people, who had migrated to this small town in New Jersey and transported their snack-bar here along with their home-made “Dimple” ice-cream. And to top it all…they recognized me by name. Wow!

Classic used to carry a board saying Dimple ice-cream, and I guess it used to sell the ice-cream as well for some time, but we never bought it again. And somehow, I just couldn’t get used to Dimple not being there. And despite Classic’s popularity, something inside me just doesn’t let me patronize this place – in the last 15 years, I must have been inside precisely thrice and that too because I was forced to. Its just…one of those things.

Posted by bhavinj at 11:18 PM | Comments (1)

June 04, 2005

Mapless in Matunga

This is the first Mumbai Mirror article

We, Matungaeans (I hope I get the credit for coining this word) are a bit schizoid…at least those who live in the “right” part. Oh! You don’t know which the “right” part is? Let’s save that for another time.

So, coming to the “schizoid” part. When you ask people in Wadala or Sion or for that matter, even those in far-flung, remote places like Powai or Napean Sea Road, where they stay, they’ll say that they stay in Wadala or Sion or Powai or Napean Sea Road, as the case may be (or swap places, depending on who they are trying to impress). When you ask people in Matunga where they stay, the majority, and especially those who stay in the “right” part will say, “King’s Circle”.

Why “King’s Circle”? I am not entirely sure, but this central garden on Ambedkar road, though now called Maheshwari Udyan, does serve as the epicentre of Matunga, the other magnet being the Matunga market area. But the preference for “King’s Circle” may also have to do with our innate preference for old British names as against “Indian” names.

Having said that, a good number will actually just say things like, “behind Aurora”, “next to Don Bosco”, “opposite Sahakari Bhandar”, “behind Gandhi Market”, smug in their insularity that the entire world knows exactly where these places are.

As if that’s not enough, the entire swathe between Nathalal Parekh Marg (i.e. the road on which Don Bosco school stands) and Rafi Ahmed Kidwai Road (“char rasta” in local parlance) is called “Sewri-Wadala Road, Scheme xyz, Rd 123”. I am sure this has some historical basis, but both Sewri and Wadala are reasonably far away and except for driving courier and delivery boys crazy, these names serve no purpose whatsoever.

And things, don’t get any simpler. There are two stations; King’s Circle on the Harbour line and Matunga station on the Central line. On the other side of the tracks from Matunga station, is another station on the Western line, called Matunga road, which supposedly is a part of an area called Matunga (W), a tiny place nestled between Mahim and Dadar BB. And though our Matunga is actually Matunga with an unfashionable (E) for East, in a perverse reverse snobbishness, most people in King’s Circle / Matunga, don’t even bother to acknowledge the existence of Matunga (W).

Worse off are those at the boundary zones of Matunga. Does Sion start at the end of Gandhi Market, or at the end of King’s Circle station. Does Wadala start after UDCT or at the Wadala (E) bridge. Does Dadar start after Matunga Gymkhana, after Ruia college or after King George school. Which part of Bhaudaji road is in Sion and which part is in Matunga. The reason this is important, is because the “Matunga mentality” actually extends beyond these physical boundaries, making many of the border zone inhabitants reasonably confused as to their actual status. Oh, and now you want to know what the “Matunga mentality” is? Have patience…

Are you confused? Think about what we have to go through, living there, not even knowing what to call our place of stay! And you thought I was kidding about the schizoid part…

Posted by bhavinj at 09:45 PM | Comments (1)