Of ATMs

ATMs are source of joy. When introduced to the Indian customers, they were promptly domesticated with a pet name: All Time Money. Whether it was a sardonic take on the not so efficient and user friendly tellers or just voluntary innovation (HR listening?) of some Smart Alec is not sure. In fact, I even came across a vernacular full form in Marathi, mercilessly disparaging the teller viz. : अता तरी मिळेल।

However, the real fun begins when one transacts within an ATM booth. One of my acquaintances found the machine as लाबाड़ (cunning). While he was able to correctly remember and execute the withdrawal procedure, he was dumbfounded to motive the machine swallow back his money. He was busy then directing the cool AC wind into his soaked shirt, he told me later. Next, he tried manipulating the vault mouth in case he could pull the money out of the throat of the machine. The same fellow has earlier complained of the machine swallowing his ATM card too. In that instance, he had punched the PIN incorrectly; 1234, 0000, 7925 in that order (the last one being a pure तुक्का). Now, he had certainly not forgotten the PIN. He honestly didn't know about any such number. When inquired about the adjoining literature that had come with the card he replied with a wide grin that he had handed it to his better half, who duly used it in the tiffin box, in lieu of the exorbitantly expensive foil. A septuagenarian, however, broke all records. On his occasional visit at our apartment, he spelt out all possible expletives for the machine. The reason was quite understandable. The bank clerk has shown him his account balance: nil, wiped clean. He had forgotten to collect back his card from the machine. For ease of remembering, he had neatly written the PIN on the 'useful' space provided on the back of the card.

Things happen other way round too. Once in a multiple machine booth, a 7 1/2 tall Briton was fumbling. As he asked for help, I followed the on-screen instructions. He, of course, punched the PIN - alas, his one finger covered the entire keyboard - and entered the amount: 6000. The machine informed it as indispensable amount. I raced my mind and suffixed two more zeros (the decimals), in the next attempt. He looked at me and then again back at the figure, and blinked. When he pushed 'OK', the machine responded with same error. Giving a last try, almost half-heartedly, the big fellow re entered 6000. And the motors rolled!! I almost died of the impact his hand (!) made on my fragile collarbone which I figured out as his manner of exhibiting exuberance. While exiting he quipped, 'It must he software. Isn't it?' I managed a smile.

Kids, though rarely, utter something intelligent. My younger sibling once demonstrated so when she observed the notes being offered from the machine. After exiting, I found her explaining her father to carry the ATM right into the kitchen garden; it would be easy for her then, to buy chocolates & ilk without pesky surveillance of mother, she deduced.

The latest one was the best though. A burly Punjabi discovered a machine out of order. He immediately coached the security guard, 'ओये! First reboot and then reinstall the machine. It will be perfectly fine then.'

Mob, Mobile and Music

Lately, I chanced to see a few TV competitions, that nowadays, range from singing to dance to even weight loss. There used to be a pretty low key singing contest telecasted a decade back or so. The participants were chosen by auditioning their cassettes. The entire season used to offer truly mesmerising experience to the audience. The participants, at time kids, used to be visibly talented. When the judges used to stand up for the verdict and confess their inability to differentially rank them, audience supported unanimously.

But that's history. Today, we have swanky shows know as talent hunt shows. It's unclear though, whether they hunt the talent or hunt for the talent! Majority of the participants are too forgettable even for colony level appearances. The quality of voice - it's texture and range, the ability of conforming to chromatic and diatonic patterns, aligning with the beat and chords, et al, has apparently become a passée. Rather than limiting oneself to the trivial act of striking the vocal chords, participants nowadays shake their entire anatomy offering, purportedly, an audio-visual delight to the spectators. This is, perhaps, to make up for the quality of voice.

Judging too, off late, has become a fashion vis-a-vis a thankless honorary job. Judges are no longer invited cause of their ne plus ultra name in the field of music. The judges are those, whose music is selling in masses. The process of judging also has become a piece of cake. Advent of telecom has given a powerful tool in the hands of the masses: SMS votes. The winner is hence chosen truly following the constitutionally recommended democratic method. Last 60 years nevertheless provide excellent testimony to the very method's perfection.

Art is supposedly the highest point of the culture in any civilisation. If mediocrity and mob rule is the reality of the day, such music is here to stay.

Being Organised

It took me twenty-one years and privation from family to realise how the martial law employed by mother for my upbringing was a blessing in disguise. Mother's penchant - which sometimes flirted with obsessiveness - for immaculately done bed, sofa and wardrobes never enticed me to the extent it did to her. Nevertheless, in the process, all this was deeply ingrained into the back of mind. Now, in professional life, the Five-S lessons hence sound ridiculous.

However, this is not applicable to each and all. Master, for instance, is an utterly disorganised creature even after hailing from similar bourgeoisie. He is one of those who take the paltry alibi of nature to carpet their laziness. 'Dust is a protective cover,' Master quips every time I point at the tons of dust lying atop the TV, books, pile of newspapers, refrigerator, kitchen platform and utensils. 'Picking and placing things you need, at obscure locations, is a gargantuan futility,' is the repartee when I request to fold the mosquito net in the morning, to hang keys on the stand, place utensils in the cupboards and hanger the clothes in the wardrobes. 'Everything is within the reach of my hands,' comes the reply when I convince him that his condo is more akin to trenching ground and not beautiful.

Thankfully, Master doesn't exist at workplace. The problem, though, persists. Most of the colleagues find themselves surprised when they are unable to locate the document kept 'right here.' Each one has six drawers - four small and two big - and full full almirah to keep documents. Given that, the supply of folders and files is unlimited. Inside their PCs, the 80 GB hard drive is stuffed till the brink with documents, songs, videos and all. To use folders to segregate irrelevant documents is, however, Greek to most. When boss demands a file, most fumble with the OS search feature, which shows more irrelevant thing than relevant.

Being organised is not being pedantic. It's being efficient and at the same time, elegant too. The difference lies in the activity one does to get the work done. Are you finding or searching, is all what matters. Time invested in organising room is well encashed with a single compliment. Time is precious. Those who value it, seek for efficiency. Others, who have no qualms in wasting it, a la Master, tag efficiency as unnecessary overhead and elegance as needless extravaganza. Long back, while learning databases, I came across a conclusive statement: 'The time spent in storing the info in organised fashion is paid off handsomely, when the lookup time is insignificantly negligible.'

Alas! Not many read databases. Not many of those read, do it for understanding. And a little of those who understand, are agile enough to implement it (read Master).

Being organised is not in many peoples' capacity. Hence proved.

Honour

Lately, we come across multitude of incidents that we label inconceivable, inhuman or even savage. A reason for such incidents coming to light is deeper penetration of media in our lives, thanks to the improvement in technology. Media, purportedly the fourth pillar of democracy - unfortunately infested with most inane variety of humans - has coined a term for the genre of such incidents: Honour Killing.

From pristine ages till date, our society is plagued with this bug of honour. The पांडव ruined their entire youth for the name sake of क्षत्रीय honour. Today, we go gaga over the men in armed forces, for they protect the honour of the country. Innumerable couples are made victims of inhuman treatment for they act against the hollow honour of family or society.

Strangely though, a common trait can be observed in all such honour deed: an irrational, illogical or hollow act that can't be justified on volition.

पांडव, had they been so great warriors they are portrayed as - for record, none of them killed any significant कुरु general or scion - each one breached the hallowed क्षत्रीय code of conduct. भीष्म, द्रोणाचार्य, कर्ण or दुर्योधन, all were killed by deceit or foul, masterminded by कृष्ण. व्यास reconciles on this later, in the very epic, stating, 'अधर्म brews अधर्म.' In turn accepting, that illogical decisions -taken or accorded to- for stake of honor leads to ruin.

Inordinate amount of hype is attached to armed forces; domestically as well as worldwide. Speak a little against (read truth) them and every Tom, Dick and Harry's head spins topsy turvy. Everyone gets into a dialectic of how we are safe and sound for someone is guarding the fences when we are sleeping tight. We are hence indebted and since we can't offer anything else, we offer our honour. But I pay taxes to the government who makes their salary cheques! Once discussing the same with a close acquaintance, who hails from army background, I got a surprising repartee. She said, 'Ask me. I know. War is such a waste! It doesn't kill humans. It murders humane. It's so tragic to admit that we kills others to live.' She further added that the postings are harsh and surviving such arduous circumstance is but laudable. I agreed in toto. Armed forces are necessary evil, for fanatics are incorrigible. The men must be respected, undoubtedly, yet, at par with other citizens engaged in other productive enterprises. Many people die while building roads, bridges, dams, power plants and similar infrastructure which touches - though much pronouncedly - to more lives. The poor souls never garner notice because it didn't die of some silly bullet or a worthless jet. Is their life insignificant just because of this?

Regarding honour killing, it reminds me of the uncivilised tribal instincts, where the decision of mass rules over he decision of the class. Ancient scriptures, though religiously followed & adhered by such, have failed to imbibe pragmatism in the followers, ironically, which they were meant for.

Honour and Logic, unfortunately, can't coexist.

Canteen

Last Sunday, I was reading an article authored by an innocent convict, who was acquitted after rotting circa 15 years in jail. The article was a candid memorandum of the atrocities the person had suffered. The physical abuse, mental harassment, unhygienic conditions and horrendous food; all mention in graphic details. After suffering two full years of canteen food - daily - I could indeed connect to his misery.

The article had mentioned that the rotis in the jail used to be such, that many influential inmates used it as a fuel to power their stove, on which, their sidekicks prepared chicken and mutton. 'How true', I observed, correlating with the canteen rotis we push down our throat. If offered to any stray, it will certainly bite the offerer vis-a-vis the offer. The colour of the rotis reassures that the cook is wholeheartedly against apartheid. The texture establishes, undoubtedly, that the cook is thorough masculine, depriving the poor rotis of the feminine softness. A few pedantic colleagues have made it a habit to rub two rotis to shrug off the tons of flour sticking them.

The brilliance of the culinary skills, nevertheless, is exhibited by the sabji in the menu. Irrespective of the vegetable used, the canteen sabji tastes the same. The potato is omnipresent. Salt is ever missing. Thrice a week, there is a serving off mix-veg with a notorious repetition of , Coccinia grandis, beans, carrot or bell pepper. Potatoes are the fillers, anyway. The subtle sourness of tomatoes and the twinge of lemon have become forgotten tastes of glorious past. While the quantity in the plate is substantial, it fails to satify the apetite, for the stomach - like the tongue - prefers quality.

Curry, incidentally, has variety. One day it's arhar, another day it's kadhi, chole, rajma or even moong. The cook being the same, is hence impartial. The curry lacks all essential Indian components viz. tadka, turmeric and coriander. Rajma and chole can certainly be excused. But then, the quintessential softness required in these two is mostly absent. I tried to switch to paneer - falling in for it's gravy - only to realise that my stomach hard booted.

As if this is enough, the canteen tea and coffee mock the very purpose of beverages - to refresh. The tea unmistakably bears an inkling of charcoal while the coffee tastes like sweetened milk. The pepper tea - once I was on the height of experimentation - tastes like granny's syrup and after devouring the soup, one gets bilious a la Chinese dragon.

Jai ho Canteen!

छान छान गोष्टी

Like all kids I enjoyed listening to the stories in my childhood. Grandfather being a great story teller, the joy was multiplied. He used to read a lot of books, just as he does still, so that his pesky grandson's unquenchable thirst for stories is gratified. Many times, he used to tell same stories over and again. At times, when I spotted the slack, I used to tell him with a wondrous face about already knowing the end. He used to grin sheepishly, pointing at his silver hair, blaming them for the amiss. We used to giggle and then proceed with a fresh tale.

As father got transferred, the routine broke. Mother discovered a fix. She bought a Marathi tell-a-story cassette. I was rather skeptical about the stories and the artists, for grandfather was the best story teller I had ever met! Luckily, the cassette came up to the expectations. Finding me happy, mother was encouraged to buy sequels of the cassettes. With time, as studies mandated to remain up in the night, while others snored, the younger kins took them over.

Occasionally, when I listen them now, alongside the new generation, I realise why I liked them. The stories were nice and the artists had delivered them well considering the prospect audience. Most of the stories were on the पंचतंत्र pattern, i.e., personification of the wild and summing up with a moral.

It may sound naive, but those stories did have a perceptible effect. The age, early teens, has a remarkable virtue of soaking up whatever is presented to the mind. As they say, one must always learn the good and befriend the good, so that the good prevails and one becomes a better individual, these stories, did their bit in imbibing good habits in the young audience. Apart from the story, the artists did play an quintessential role. A story read as a new item is hardly exciting. The cassette marketing company had diligently chosen renowned theatre icons. They all had a great command over the voice. Using gruff baritones for the negative characters, high pitched for the young, giving an impression of crying by exaggerated last syllables, et al. The complementary background music made the rest of the ambience. The sound of the sword taken out of the sheath, the swagger of horse, the beating of trumpet at victory and ilk. For the little child, it was wholesome entertainment.

Even after a hiatus of almost a decade those insignificant yet memorable moments can be rejoiced, for they offered pure entertainment in the return of smiling face. The cassettes certainly did justice to their names, the छान छान गोष्टी.

The Secret of Rotis *

Prologue:
Empirical Evidences. I like those. One can state anything with unabashed confidence and it must be accepted, for it's based on Empirical Evidence!


The Act:
"Making Rotis is helluva junk job", that was my pet statement. Post enlightenment, when I had started cooking on my own, I had attempted a demeanour to make Rotis. I confess, candidly, that whatever I had made, it was everything, but a Roti. While putting the thing in the casserole, I bent it along its (assumed) diameter. To my horror, the thing made a 'takk' noise and broke off into two distinct things. I looked around my empty 2BHK just to check if anyone has heard that disastrous creak. Only the Feng-Shui had observed it, silently. I was relieved.

The incident was so demoralising, that I ate rice-dal-sabji combo for couple of days at a stretch. Takk! That was the sound that hounded me whenever I used to spot the Wheat flour can in the kitchen. The reminiscences of the sound were so dispiriting that had almost made my mind to convert the flour can in to the garbage can with the flour as it's first occupant. But then, fighting spirit is an in-thing still. So, I thought of giving the rotis another try.

This time, I exhibited the intelligence of consulting my mumma prior to staining my limbs in the dough. Mumma snapped, "Oh! Rubbish. Making rotis is no art. It's an act of worship. If you have faith, it will be round." I started with faith in my gut feeling. While I added the water more generously while kneading, but took care that the flour does not get wiped out in the flood. This time, surprisingly, the rotis were softer. Plus, the thing swelled from few spots. As far as shape is concerned, it was still towards the squarer side vis-a-vis the old-fashioned round. This continued for a few days.

Then one day, it struck me that mumma used to touch the dough with a spoonful of oil while kneading it! Next moment, I put a call. Mumma quipped, "My love, I thought you had that much of common sense to knead it with oil. It makes it more fluffy and soft! Oh Gosh! How could you pass all those glorified Engineering exams when you can't even learn such a trivial thing ?!!" Being a (forced) optimist, I took it as a patting rather than bashing. Apropos, I put oil. And as if a miracle, the dough was blended way softer than I have ever had done till that date. I tried the rotis. It was easier to roll them. I ate. It was softer. I could break off a piece using only three fingers of one hand! But the darned thing was still out of shape.

While I was happy with the taste and softness, the shape always make me feel low, incomplete, imperfect. That evening, I was doing it in a routine manner; rolling the rotis. By chance, rather than turning the dough lump for the roti by full 90°, I happened to turn it by a lesser degree. I rolled. I found the lump getting a rather circular shape over the squarer one I have always been getting. Then I realised the secret that the circular form is achieved by rotating the dough lump by subtle angles and then rolling it. I frowned; it was such a simple thing, the circular shape, can be achieved by putting equal pressure on the dough orienting outwards in all directions! That day, for record December 5, 2006, was the day on which my rotis were not only soft and tasty but also circular. Mumma was right. I must have faith in my brain.

Now, after one month or so, I find that the time required to knead the dough and then to make five rotis has been drastically cut down to around 20 minutes which was as high as 45 minutes 3 months ago. Experience does make a man perfect. Granted.


Epilogue:
I stand by every word written, the Prologue standing or notwithstanding.


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Comments-

Arianbyheart said...

Yet another milestone achieved by a bachelor who professes cooking when he is not saving the world from hands of evil. It is a happy feeling when an individual finally eventually achieves the golden combination of roti, kapda and Makan. Good going Sir. Am waiting to listen about your yet to be unvieled "Soup tragedy". So, what if starters come after lunch.

Unmana said...

LOL
I dread making rotis too. Thanks for the tips.?



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* Migrated from the erstwhile My Experiments as a Cook.

Why I Cook *

Whenever I visit home, meet an old friend, talk to a distant relative or if anyone - by chance - spares some time to browse through my Orkut profile, they unfailingly ask with genuine exclamation viz. What! You cook? Before I can put my point, the questioner pads another query. Usually, the query is either of 'Really?', 'Can't afford? (with umpteen exclamations, following it)', 'Are you lying / bragging / faking / (or some other similar not-to-be-used-in-progressive-tense type gerund)?', 'I can't believe it. Do you do, Tommy? (Tommy is - usually and understandbly- the pet)' or ilk. To put an end to such - rather discomforting, if not disheartening - quips, I am confessing, why I cook.

Prior to September 2, I was of the school of thought that cooking is blasphemous. A proletarian deed one should never indulge in. The thought of staining my fingers with the gluey wheat flour dough-making (sounds like dove-making, isn't it?) process, always sunk my heartbeat. The musings about the labour of chopping vegetables made my muscles sprain. The dreaded dreams of boiling and reboiling of the (darned) milk had made me wakeup, scoffing. I had felt awful. Honestly.

But then one fine day, I was struck with enlightenment. I searched around for the Banyan Tree, instinctively. I could only manage a to see a baniyaan dangling across the rope. Anyway, I had got the bulb lit. What I had realised was a very mundane fact, that if I can solve horrendous mathematical equations, make preposterous Engineering Drawings, learn disoriented Object Orientation, write forgettable piece of code that (surprisingly) function just well, give spellbinding motivational lectures to colleagues, watch Hindi films (it requires huge patience and efforts to keep oneself sane throughout), et al, then why not cooking? I should. And, thence I put the foot forward on the journey of becoming a chef.

Post lighting of The Bulb, I realised that to be able to cook is a great boon. I can straight-forwardly avoid ICH. I can avoid Rajma, Paneer and similar dishes that my stomach welcomes with horror. I can cook anything, any time and any combination as per my whims and fancies. Mumma appreciates for at least one thing since my birth. Father feels relieved that if ever my prospect wife says quits (of course, temporarily, for Maharashtriyaan ladies never kill the goose who lays golden eggs), I shall not be at His (or again, ICH's) mercy. Sister feels damn agog for I have forestalled the need of her learning cooking. Friends (male) get a more severe heartburn. And the best of all, damsels (do a google on 'define: damsel', please) find it like a godsend ! So many benefits, just one deed, cooking. Hah! I'm Loving it.

And, in(tro)spection let me know that I am a good one at cooking. In fact, now I say that it was, like, in my genes, to cook well.

You are welcome. Have a dine.


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* Migrated from the erstwhile My Experiments as a Cook.




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Addendum


I found this interesting blog post. And, yes, I most certainly approve of it.

Khaike ... Halwa Hamra haanth kaa.. *

One fine morning I decided to have Halwa. Let me confess I have a COD for all kind of sweets. Life is full of sour and bitter things, courtesy millions of anonymous factors that neither we are aware of nor we should bother about. Let Him do at least something apart from creating the world. :) One should eat sweet to stand out of all the bitterness.

Anyways, the point to ponder is Halwa. So that fine morning I had a obsession for eating Halwa. And I began. The deep fry pan was in place on the gas range. While the pan got heated, I poured a cup-ful of Rawa. It's a grainy version of the wheat floor. The next step was to keep tilting it with the spoon till it assumed a tad brownish hue. An out and out boring job. The taste however demandshard work. After say 3-4 minutes, when the Rawa started looking as desired, I added a spoon and half of Pure Ghee. Repeated the same tilting activity religiously for a minute more till the two items became a homogeneous mixture. Now came the real interesting moment. I had to add three items simultaneously. There I messed up with my memory. I wasn't sure which one to put before the other. However, being a force-trainedentrepreneur , I took a risk. To be precise, a calculated one. I poured water, the first. The quantity was commensurate to that of the amount of Rawa being taken. Then came gushing Milk straight from the Mother's Dairy. Suddenly the mass inside the pan sizzled and transmogrified into a semi-solid lump of mass. Of course, I was awed. A moment before it was a fine grainy thing that I could tread through with agility but now suddenly, it wasun-penetratable. Sugar! My inner echoed. Listening to my conscientiousness, as always (taught by my Master), I augmented the thing with a cup-ful of Sugar.

Immediately, the semi-solid mass gained fluid properties. I mean, it didn't become liquid, but it became more treadable. I kept on stirring the entire stuff for a while, in a way that the sugar is mixed properly aka homogeneously. By now, the smell of the Halwa had already getting exuded from the pan. Wow! it smelled just Muuaaah! After a while of the tilting session, I closed the gas. The jaw was dropping, needless to say.

The product was irresistible. So, the next step is but obvious. I ate it, voraciously.


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* Migrated from the erstwhile My Experiments as a Cook.

Apropos *

Cooking food, arguably, is a daunting task. Transformation of a raw vegetable into a cooked palatable is surely a thing. Like others, I am gifted with great parents. They never let me feel the heat of the stove, till the time I was in their lap. By the grace of God, the aforementioned time extended as long as 21 years. Consequently, I developed an affection for processed food, the processor - naturally - was my mumma. I am proud to share that I love all kind of food. The range starts from sweets to sour and from fried to baked. While I have special affection for the sweeter variety, the bitter ones viz. करेला, are the ones I consume with not-so-equal rejoice. The point to note is, I consume it.

When it comes to cooking, however, it's my fiefdom. So, no करेला and no नीम चढ़ा. It's pure taste. Nothing else.

Now, this is no joke. Yes, I can cook. If you are still grinning, assuming that I am offering a pun, then, I must say, it's a deep insult of a great chef-to-be. OK! So, now you feel that I am indulging in braggadacio. It is but necessary to market your skills, dear friend. Didn't your bskul (the SMSed version of language distortion for the poor and humble Business School), teach you this? So, here I present you all the next chef-to-be, in making at present; that's me.

So, keep on pestering this place for new recepies and cook-tips. And stop grinning. I am serious. The Cooking Begins.


___________________________
* Migrated from the erstwhile My Experiments as a Cook.

Rakesh

Utility men are available in plenty. As per the law of economics, whenever a thing is available in plenty, it's value depreciates. Hence, importance of a utility man is not much than another insignificant mortal. Rakesh is one of such men. In the morning he cleans the cars and bikes in my apartments. For the rest of the day, he irons clothes. If required, he lends his services as household labour. On every Thursday (in his lingo ब्रिस्पतिबार), he takes a weekly off. Everyday, same routine; without fail, year over year.

As an unwritten yet accepted axiom, no labour intensive job gets well paid. In other words, payment is commensurate to the use of brain, excluding, of course, the Indian IT MNCs. Once, I quizzed him over the monthly charges for cleaning my bike. He quoted, 100. I had found even that unworthy for the job. As I am the sole occupant, the need to keep the bike polished - i.e., impressive - wasn't (alas, isn't) high in my list. A fortnight after I occupied the apartments, I notified the security guards for informing the maids and utility men for domestic paraphernalia. They pointed at Rakesh, who was ironing clothes with his coal iron. The sight of the coal powered iron miffed me. A few years back, my clothes were perforated due to similar variety of iron. The guard added, that he probably charges 5/- per set of clothes. Exorbitant, I concluded instantly and proscribed myself from employing him to iron my clothes. While I had gone gaga over rising inflation - it increase the dearness allowance component - now I cursed it wholeheartedly.

Couple of months later, my iron broke down. Grudgingly, I had to revert to Rakesh. One evening, I strolled to his workplace. It was nothing more than a rudimentary wooden platform, probably, a makeover table constructed of thrown away wooden pieces. I offloaded the pile of 18 clothes and requested to deliver by next evening. He swung his head in affirmation, accompanied with his ubiquitous grin. Next evening, he presented himself with the clothes; neatly tucked in the cavity of his folded hands and painfully protruding ribcage. As I opened the door, he again sported a ear to ear grin and stuffed the clothes in my hands. I enquired for the amount. 'जित्ते कपडे उत्तेइच पैसे! और का ?', was his innocent reply. I stared at him, rather in disbelief. I fumbled with my wallet, picked two 10 notes and kept in his hands. He started to search for the change. I asked him to balance it next time. He smiled, and left. Closing the door, I cursed the guard. While placing the clothes in the wardrobe, I audited the quality. The job was done nicely. In vain, I thought as I fumed, I was ironing the clothes for so long.

Another day, I inquired him where he bought the coal from. He quoted names of some nearby villages and deliberated on the path to reach there. On my further prodding, he disclosed that the coal comes for 14/- to 18/- a Kg. He also shared that he polishes 20 vehicles every morning. Brief calculations revealed that total income must not be exceeding 5000 or 6000 a month. On that, he was supporting a family of 4. The wife helped him in ironing. The kids, being too young, were worthless, at least from financial perspective. Even when I live alone and don't spare a penny for my parents - father doesn't (and will never) need - my monthly expense exceed Rakesh's total income. I live with a grudge that I earn abysmal and confide with my colleagues that our management must be 'managing' the Best Places to Work trophy every year. This utility man, however, earns trifles in comparison to me, yet, his face has a intriguing tranquil. I never discovered him in sorrow, ever! He doesn't hide anything under the sheath of his smile. He doesn't have anything to! His eyes doesn't exude the characteristic plaintiveness commonly prevalent in such men. Rakesh hasn't read any ancient scriptures, still, he has discovered - perhaps ingeniously - that, relinquishing desires rewards happiness.

The Filing

Dealing with any government office is always a nightmare, or at least perceived to as. Perfunctory clerks, their unfriendly - at times, uncooperative - attitudes, long queues, ill lit premises, abominable stench, colourful language and similar attributes are prototyped with the government offices, in general. Hence, when my friend decided to personally visit the sectional Income Tax (I-T) office to deposit the I-T Returns, I had a sepia tinted reverie of the purported office. I checked the website of the I-T department. They had provided an option to submit the form online. I consulted a few experienced colleagues regarding the online option. Their replies were not very encouraging. I resorted to ET. It carried a report that the TDS submitted by corporations since the fiat issued in October'06 had refunds to the tune of 27 thousand crores due (yet). I decided to file manual, pronto. Besides, the Finance department in my corporation had done a good job in preparing Form 16. The requisite values were properly listed and well highlighted. Filling the ITR-1 hence came out to be pretty simple affair. However, I must mention that the IIM graduates who have reportedly helped in redesigning the I-T return form have gobbled tax payers money for no good. The form is as silly as it was last year. They have increased the number of forms viz. ITR-1 to ITR-8 and added a funny acknowledgement form - ITR V - that is almost a replica of ITR-1.

Ergo, both of us went to the sectional I-T office today. When we had tried our luck to find its address on I-T website, it showed an address that later turned out to be the address of the I-T help centre and not the I-T office. The only grace was, the experienced colleagues had forewarned us about the outdatedness of the site and informed us about the correct office address. Luckily, it happened to be quite close to my office complex. With the form ready and address handy, we chalked out the plan to go and file the return. The horrid reverie made a fast forward again, nevertheless.

After a three minute drive, we reached the I-T office. Surprisingly, there were no queues. My friend went to the nearby grocery shop and ascertained whether the office under the board of I-T Department was open. Bewildered, we went inside. Surprise number two: The rooms were AC and there were coolers in subordinates' halls. Moreover, the cabins had fine upholstery. The junior staff was sitting in well lit workplaces too. We both looked at each other, bemused. This time, I asked the bystander whether we were in right office. He reassured. We probed further. A person or two were standing at a counter. On closer inspection, we spotted the ITR-1 and ITR-V in their hands; stamped. We enqueued. In less than 3 minutes, the officer behind the glass partition requisitioned for my forms. Click...Click...Stamp...Stamp...Stamp. He returned my the ITR-V form back. Process over! My friend had not even taken his forms out by then. To my astonishment, while he fumbled, the officer serviced the person behind him in the queue. My friend, for that matter, is a tech savvy guy. He is quite unused to such hardships of life; paper forms, signatures, et al. He had preferred the online submission route, ignoring my apprehensions of the Luddite I-T department staffers. Hence, he was to submit the system generated acknowledgement cum return form at the counter. When he did so, the officer, whom I was yet looking at, with an awe of admiration, reverted back to his usual incarnation. 'Not accepted here', he retorted pointing at the form duo. My friend quoted the online submission route. He replied with audible grunts. After fiddling with the papers for a few seconds, he tossed them aside and demanded Form 16 to be attached therewith. I reminded him of the notification that the returning officer is to detach and return the Form 16, in case it is supplied superfluously. He shot a curt glance. Offended or otherwise, he grabbed the bunch of papers repeated the click-n-stamp activity again, mechanically, and thrust them back in my friends hands. We thanked, rather generously, and slipped.

As they say, great an effort you entail, the dog's tail never dodges. Let's be optimistic though. :)

Impersonal Loan

A friend of mine lately had some urgent financial requirement. As it didn't qualify of any of the standard category of the loans viz. house, vehicle, education, et al, he had to opt for a Personal loan. Now, personal loans are insanely exorbitant. The rates vary from 7% at the lower end to as high as 17% per annum. As a natural choice, my friend was premeditating for such financial institution that offered lowest interest rates. Nevertheless, he dug up a survey - all by himself - about the prevalent rates and payback options. His thesis was pretty entertaining.

As any other cellular customer, he also keeps getting unsolicited calls from financial institutions regarding personal loans and ilk. This time, he decided to deliberately pay heed to them. An executive from a Sensex market cap topper (privately owned yet publicly listed) financial institution said on such a call that he can avail a lakh rupee loan to him at 17% interest compounded annually on reducing balance. He refused the offer right away, quoting financial unviability. Half an hour later, the same executive came up with a 15.5% offer! In the meantime, he had visited another institution - incidentally, a PSU- that offered the loan at 13.5%, other factors remaining same. When my friend persisted on reducing it further, the executive quipped that he will need to pay a processing fees elsewhere, which is inclusive in this offer. Besides, he said that he will personally visit him for the signatures and ilk and the loan amount will be credited to his account via ECS. He went back to the PSU people and inquired about the processing fees, which they denied levying of. Merrily he decided to trust in the PSU. When that executive called again, he denied politely·

Next morning, he presented himself to the Branch Manager (BM) of the PSU institution. The BM smiled wryly and said that he just need to open and account and that's it! The loan amount shall be instantly transferred into it. Agog, he requested for the account opening form. It was a dozen page form demanding plethora of documents including Identification proof, Residence proof, Employment proof, two month salary slips, last three I-T return receipts, attestation of the loan form from a guarantor and all aforementioned documents from the guarantor too. eh... Did I mention that all of them were to be countersigned by both the loan seeker and the guarantor? Of course, all this wasn't demanded at once and in the beginning. My friend had to shuttle between his office and the bank branch at least half a dozen times. In the end, the BM demanded the Salary Account to be transferred to the loan disbursing branch for it will easy for them to deduct the requisite amount of EMI, hassle free. As if it wasn't enough, the BM finally asked my friend to visit the main branch of the institution to get the loan cheque. When my friend quizzed him with a puzzled face the BM offered him a repartee in a unmoved businesslike manner, 'Ours is an extension branch for the exclusive service of the enterprise you are an employee of. We don't disburse such high amount loans. Thank You.'

Master is always right, Quality comes at a price.

tee-bhee

The morning news paper read today that government is planning to levy a licence fees amounting half a thousand rupees for viewing television. The purported reason is to turn the government owned entertainment(!) agency, the प्रसार भारती, from red to green. It's a different observation, however, that this move has turned viewers' faces red. As per the fiat, the amount garnered by slapping the levy shall be used to upgrade the pay scale of agency's 38,000 odd employees to government pay scale and provide 'other benefits'. Moreover, the move shall rake circa Rs.23,871 crores from the pockets of the viewers. Entertaining, it is, indeed. The government owned entertainment agency was enacted by a Parliamentary Act which has a section that entitles the promoters of the company, in this case, representatives of the public - otherwise called the government - to loot (oops! charge) the public this way. The viewer base of the agency owned channels, beamed free of cost, is abysmal. This means, the agency will be charging the levy for viewing channels other than it's own! A couple of weeks back, the honourable Information and Broadcasting minister issued a fiat that watching cricket matches is a must for every citizen of India, hence or otherwise, the private satellite channels must share the match feed - which they have acquired exclusive rights for, by commercial competitive bidding - with the प्रसार भारती channels. So competent are the employees of the agency for whose upliftment, the levy is being levied. Furthermore, a proposal of levying 10% licence fees (~896 crores) on TV and Radio manufacturers is also doing rounds. It's an perfect illustration of a archetypal socialist ideology: Milk the cow to the full (stop of her life).

Figure this: Rs. 24,677 crores raised such if invested in making a new power plant can easily finance a 5000MW greenfield project, at prevalent costs. A full thousand megawatt more than the much touted Ultra Mega power plants, which are gaining more attention for bidding fiascoes rather than speedy implementation. It will well alleviate power crisis of many states, though to a little extent. Besides, it will generate employment for many citizens of India, mostly those, which don't watch either cricket matches or any of the प्रसार भारती programs.

Master had always cursed me for bugging him on weekends, for I don't have a TV and no plans for buying it ever. With government coming in support of my decision, Master is feeling down and out with his 500/- TV.

The हाट

While buying any goods, I habitually check the manufacturer, expiry or best before date and the brand name. However, I realised that I altogether forgo this cardinal check when I buy the vegetables and fruits from the weekly हाट. As Master has observed well, 'Brand is the minimum guarantee of quality', it is quite unsettling to note that the aforementioned aphorism fails in the context of हाट. Not only the quality is excellent, but the price of the goods is reasonable too. It's a different issue, nevertheless, that I never bargain. Haggling, I regard infra dig.

A simple mechanism works behind the curtains to provide this desirable combo to me, the end consumer. The sellers if the vegetables at the हाट are none other but the farmers themselves. In some cases, the first hand traders, who buy the vegetables directly from the farmers and then sell. As the number of middlemen in the supply chain are minimal (or none), the gap between the cost price and the final selling price is relatively modest. It translates into a cheaper buy for the end consumer. Besides, as the goods are fresh - picked and carried, straight from the farm - the quality is unquestionable. Moreover, the farmers recover the cost of their produce, pronto. As the goods are sold in retail and not wholesale, the per unit price is wee bit higher, resulting in commensurately higher margins.

The major problem with the perishable products is the storage, transportation and above all, timely consumption. Statistically, 40% of the perishable produce, perishes presently. हाट prevents it. As an icing on the cake, as the हाट are weekly, they don't occupy (and in turn encroach) the land permanently; something that's the cause of worry to the (incumbent) administration.

हाट, all in all, represent fantastic socio-economic models. In HR parlance, they offer win-win situation to all parties. In fact, the upcoming retail joints in this particular vertical have more or less similar business model. The only thing that bothers me is the downmarket appeal of the हाट. हाट, to me, are utility malls stripped down of the glitz. So, from next time, use हाट. It's hot!

Religion

Religion, as a word, is but ambiguous. It's a set of beliefs one has about the existence of an unproven identity. Isn't the last sentence ambiguous? This is how religion is and yet, it is followed religiously by the populace. While Democracy runs on the premise of all men being intelligent, Religion, on the only condition that each man should remain unintelligent. An intelligent man is never known by his religion, but his mind.

Any life form inherently dislikes restrictions. Religion - originated anywhere, at any point of time, revering single or multitude of idols - however, unfailingly professess some or other sort of restriction. The restrictions - as they should be obviously - ridiculously foolish and abhor the followers from apparel, food, procreativity, et al. How can one willingly submit to restriction when one dislikes restrictions? Simple: Give incentives. The incentive like, gratification of an inanimate idol, which, upon being followed, promises the follower a sure shot free ticket to a place called heaven. In absence of incentives, no one will naturally care to bother for restrictions. Further, if one dishonours the restrictions, he is penalised under the namesake of penance! The restrictions are practically for Social Publicity. The more are the restrictions, the greater is the greatness of the religion. As a corollary, funnier is the restriction - meaning, beyond the limits of insanely ridiculous - more is hype associated with it; e.g. celibacy. Men and women observing celibacy are usually given revered status is religious circles. What for? 'Observing celibacy is but most difficult!', is the trite - but, grave - reply. When it is difficult why do it? 'To achieve self restraint', 'To remain pure', 'Devote oneself wholeheartedly, to the God, by abstaining from from sinful deeds', are some of the pious replies. Well, I never understood this logic. Suppose everyone gets enlightened (!) and starts celebrating celibacy, will anyone be there to sing the hymns in the next generation. Or do they intend to outsource it to Orangutans?!

Some say, religion professes guiding principles for the followers, to guide them to lead a peaceful, amicable and prosperous life. But this is a blatant violation of the definition! Religion is belief in existence of God and not the way to live! The latter is Philosophy, per se. Now, Religion and Philosophy are two distinct words and should not ever be assumed synonymous.

Religion is exclusively for stupid people. If one dig into the history, mention of religions is only recent; circa two millennia. No Vedic literature mentions, propounds or prescribes of any religion. Interestingly, there is no mention of idol and idol worship in any of such pristine scriptures. As one can't teach rocket science to any Tom, Dick and Harry, so can't you teach them Philosophy. Philosophy, anyway, is best learnt on self. How else then one teach them to live, like humans, in a civilised society? One word answer: Intimidation. Device rules for the right and the wrong and provide incentives when obeyed and penance when violated. Replace magic for logic, faith for knowledge, prayers for work, rituals for processes and a book for a rational mind. Do it, and you get a Religion. Tweak a parameter and you get a new Religion. All of the formers can easily be adapted by a frivolous mind. A man of mind can never accept the,, for he understands that segregation of his own specie on such funny parameters is but a degradation to non-human status; not even wild monkeys segregate themselves on the basis of progeny or race.

Religions are not symbols of social evolution, but it's antithesis. No civilisation advocated a religion, but Philosophy. Never a civilisation was led by a religious man. Art, craft, literature, architecture all are derivatives of civilisations which exhibit the richness of the intellect of the civilisation. Religion has never created an asset and can never create any, for it requires belief in facts, not phantoms.

Loans

In layman's terms, loans are alternative money. A tad formal definition describes loan as the temporary provision of money, usually at an interest. One needs to pay back a premium for being given that much bulk money, in one shot, no sooner the demand for it was put. Banks are the primary source of loans. Hence or otherwise, the reason for their bankruptcy too.

The loan - technically, credit - is given after assessing the credibility of the borrower. If the borrower doesn't have the assets worth to payback the loan, the loan won't be issued. Many joke about this premise calling it as incredibly foolish - The borrower needs to prove that he doesn't need the loan. The fact is, the guarantee the borrower provides say, by mortgaging house or any other fixed asset, can be redeemed by the lender, i.e., the bank, if the borrower defaults. The banks are into business, not philanthropy. Ask yourself, will you invest in bankrupt firms or profit making firms? The loans, and for that matter, any form of credit - monetary or emotional - is extended to them who have the worth to possess it, not moochers. So, if one is denied loan for being poor, it's perfectly correct. The poor must save rather than begging. It's always better to learn to fish, over the Fish in a dish.

What if the borrowers default? In the worst case, the bank will collapse. A well is abandoned if there is no water in it. If the sources to replenish the water in it dry, the well gets dried. If customers of bank, borrowers and depositors both, don't supply money - the depositors withdraw money incessantly and the borrowers default - the bank must collapse. Two things one might have observed lately. Firstly, the unsolicited calls for Personal and Vehicle loans from the banks have dwindled. Secondly, the interest rates for short term loans - 390 days, 400 days, 590 days, and ilk - have shot up. A few days back, there was a report in the newspaper that a few private banks are in bad state of affairs. Of course, it didn't get footage in the prime time news, for Ms. Shitta Shilpi was in demand! The sorry state of the banks was because they had lent more loans than required. The central bank has hiked the Cash Reserve Ratio to be maintained by each bank with the itself. A hike in the CRR means the banks had to part away with their pile of money and relinquish it to the central bank. Deposits hence reduced, loans given too many, guess, what can happen to the balance sheets.

Lets take a hypothetical case. The bank has had given some shaky loans, to increase the profit margin. To add to the woes of such a bank, a rumour is spread amongst the depositors that the bank is in a bad state and may collapse soon. The customers, mostly dirt stupid, queue up the bank to withdraw their deposits. The first day, the branches can pay off with the money collected during the regular retail banking transactions. Towards the end of the week, the bank needs to borrow money from other banks, at higher rates, to match unprecedented withdrawal rates and stave off the notion of the bank being in shambles. The bank being already in bad state, for those shaky loans were being defaulted, time and again goes even more deeper in red. Within a month, the bank has to close the doors as there is no money to quench the withdrawal. The newspapers print pictures of the people, suddenly gone poor, calling names to the bank management. Within a few days, the bank is declared insolvent.

Now, whom to blame? Three variety of people. One: The Customer. Two: The Newspapermen. Three: The Auditor. Never Management. The customer, for it invested in the bank without bothering about the fiscal condition of the bank. The newspapermen, for highlighting the misery of the aftermath over the cause of insolvency. The auditor, who approved the manipulated balance sheets. The management is there to make money, howsoever it may come. The clerk, to earn a regular salary. Have you ever seen a clerk or a management being crucified? The reason is not the deficiency of penal law but the incorrect reasoning. Banks, I reiterate, are the only institutions that run on pure trust. If it breaks, the institution collapses. One should trust intellect over instincts, at least in matters of money. So, if one deposits in a bank that has a track record of shaky loans and favouritism, over business acumen for lending loans, and loses when such a bank collapses, it's not the bank to be blamed. The bank never gives you a promise to return money in case of insolvency! The newspapermen are supposed to keep track of the state of affairs of the bank. What Paris Hilton does or what is the new slogan of the political campaign is of little use to men of sense. If that's amiss nothing changes in one's life. However, if the scamp goes undetected and is discovered when the damage is done, it is of no use. Exposé are good (and proven) catalyst to rev up the circulation count. The Auditor is supposed to be moral and ethical. What for? Same salary and no incentive? Such hypocrisy looks good in HR newsletters, not reality.

The understatement is not that one should be corrupt. It is that the customer should be vigilant. Stupidity, in the namesake of ignorance, is not warranted. If one is careless about one's money, why blame the other (read management). Had one not invested in that bank beforehand, or withdrawn at the slightest hint of mismanagement, the bank would have collapsed naturally, on it's own! You consciously poured the liquid in the bottomless hole and now complain that I can't get it back!!

The connection between loans and intellect is best explained in the Marathi proverb, used when someone amiss, अक्कल गहाण ठेवली होतीस का? (Had you loaned your intellect?)

Democracy

Democracy, by definition, is a funny system. Its tenets are based on a plainly incorrect premise that all men are intelligent. The only grace is that the definition duly discounts women. As the definition goes, in a democratic system, people elect their representatives. That technically means, one selects a person amongst themselves, to rule them. Consciously elected slavery! Now, every sensible man is a slave of his wife; not for a man is a good slave and a woman is a good Master, but for the simple reason that as a slave, he just have to offer his ears for the fiats, while execution - a deed that eventually decides the fate of that fiat - remains at his disposition. Taking cue from this, perhaps, the promoters of democracy might have propounded the doctrines of the system. Though ironically enough, we find a little representation of the fair sex in the top brass of the democratic system world over.

Those who found the aforementioned analogy of slavery and man vs woman comparison offending or frivolous might argue in favour of the system vehemently with a superior logic. In one or the other way, it boils down to the platitude of equality amongst the men. But can it ever be? Can you equate the mind of Francisco d' Anconia to that of some rustic mystic, whose brain houses only the carnal knowledge? Men should never be compared. While the specie is same, the minds are quintessentially unique, distinct, diverse and discreet. Mind is the only criterion to judge a man. If he has inferior mind, his judgements, decisions, analysis - summarily, thinking - has to be commensurately inferior. Such a man needs nourishment of knowledge, a posteriori. How can two such divergent men decide a common good? A schmuck can be won with little shrewd wordplay and alms, for a poor mind coexists notoriously always, with a poor wallet. The poor mind once - and hence - won, given that it has myopic outlook, can only see short term gains. Simply speaking, the poor mind can be lured, favourably. As it is there for any natural phenomenon, the peak - the apogee, the pinnacle, the highest point, the crest, the best quality, et al - is always either short liver or occurs too less, so is with the human mind. The poor mind occurs aplenty, while the best ones, rarely. As democracy relies on numbers, the demand of which can be offset much easily by the humongous supply of the poor brains, democracy essentially a system of the fools, by the fools and for the fools. If one of you feels grudged in it, congratulations, your mind has evolved.

Personally, I would rejoice all stupid and unintelligent primates being shot dead, perhaps, many other sensible vegetarians may disagree. A rather worse, time consuming, expensive and yet, low success rate work around is to educate the poor brains. Any religious leader, obviously, can't be entrusted. I would incalculably relish strangleholding each of them. Then who else?

Alas! the onus is but always on me...

Bank

Principle business of a Bank is pretty simple to understand. It borrows and lends. You and me, the customers of a bank are the biggest lender to the bank. We deposit our money in our bank accounts. The biggest borrowers from the banks are industries, followed by households. Banks, thus, are middlemen. However, unlike the accepted meaning of middlemen, presence of a channel like bank is a must. Banks, in fact, can even even be termed as contemporary ethical साहूकार . As banking is a business, it runs for profit. Banks earn profit employing the good old principle, that Selling price less Cost price should be a positive quantity. In other words, the rate at which bank lends money to its customer, you and me, is higher than the rate at which you lend money to bank. The difference in rate accounts for earnings of the bank, and is the source of salary to its employees and other sundry expenses. The balance amount, after it, is Profit.

Banking, perhaps, is the only business that runs purely on trust. We entrust banks to guard our money that we lent to the bank. Those who infer that banks are a surrogate source of income, derived from interest on deposits, dwell in fantasy land. Except for fixed deposits, the rate of interest on any other bank deposits is always less than the rate of inflation. So, technically, one pays to the bank to keep their money safe; from robbery.

Now, does this mean one shouldn't keep any money in banks? Wrong. One must. Monet and Mind have one thing in common: Both are rendered useless, if kept lying idle. A part of one's fortune must be parked in banks. Rest can be invested into other monetary instruments, including stock, bonds, mutual funds, property, et cetra. The reason for keeping money in banks, especially in checking accounts, is for its easy liquidity, i.e., the funds can be accessed swiftly and with ease. Any other investment avenue doesn't provide similar ease for liquidity.In fact, they can't and should not. Why? Those are investments!

A common misconception about - and for that reason, most financial institutions - is that they have some magical means to multiply investors' money. No one bothers to care where from the interest on deposits is going to emerge from. Profit is a function of efficiency. Either reduce the denominator or increase the numerator. Cut the operating cost or increase the production for same cash inflow. Profit margin is an implication of growth in primary businesses (read agriculture). The ripple effect reaches up to the end consumer, via a series of traditional middlemen. Lesser such middlemen, higher is the amplitude of the ripple at the receiver's end. Retail business will, hence, do more good to consumers and farmers, vis a vis traders.

Any business needs seed capital and till it reaches break-even, some credit। Bank loans are the primary source of such capital influx. Stock markets and Venture Capitalists are other viable options. However, they mostly come into play in big-ticket investments, for such ventures offer higher profit margin, although with high risk factor. Now, if banks are to lend funds to businessmen (and us), obviously, banks itself needs funds. There comes in our deposits. Many depositors, educated or otherwise, feel that banks have a डब्बा in which their money is kept sealed. Whenever they withdraw, the डब्बा is opened and then resealed. In other words, people confuse bank accounts with तिजोरियाँ shown in Hindi films. Never watch Hindi films!

In reality, banks are more desperate for lending out their deposits, for the simple reason that banks lending rates are higher than bank's borrowing rates. Additionally, keeping money idle is akin to keeping a gas burner lighted without putting any vessel atop; waste of energy. The same money, if used for creating permanent assests, viz. roads, rails, bridges, power stations, dams, canals, et al, will results in appreciation of its value; a penny spent today is better than a pound saved for morrow. Moreover, as such projects have high gestation period, the loans are long term and hence promise assured higher return on investment. Stock markets work on smae premise. However, instability is its inherent attribute. Retail investors and financial institutions alike, misuse markets for making quick buck. Markets by definition, may be for trading, but ideally should be for investments.

Bottomline is: Park your money is banks, invest in securities, splurge on your spouse and if you still have balance left, gift it to me!

___________________________
Trivia:
I found following trends in the Forbes 2000 biggest companies in the world list-

1. Topmost company belongs to Banking Industry.
2. 4 out of top 10 (40%) companies are from Banking domain.
3. 16 out of first 50 (over 30%) are from Banking domain.
4. 210 companies out of a total of 2000 (over 10%) are from Banking domain.

Teachers

I always had fabulous teachers. When I was of little (use, size, importance) age, I had a few scary looking, but (reaffirmed repeatedly with as) warm hearted teachers. Parents tell, I was a horrible student, not from the perspective of results but, from my insatiable queries regarding apparently everything visible around. Mother keeps telling me the (horror) stories my teachers used to confess to her in Parent meetings. With time, I grew, inasmuch as the level of inquisitiveness did.

Don't know why and how (and what for), I managed to be the top ranker in the school and later, the college. The teachers were always happy with me for this. Perhaps, only this, for my questions, mostly mistimed and rather embarrassing, always used to make them uncomfortable. I remember once asking innocuously about the process of reproduction employed by the winged vertebrates, when the teacher was attempting diehard to altogether skip that not-so-socially-discussable section of the chapter. The teacher had silenced me by asking to meet her, in person, post lecture. In collegiate times, I met some of the most hilarious persons in the namesake of teachers. A few of them were the just passed outs. They were employed to teach us for the simple reason of them being too unintelligent to be employed even in Indian IT companies. Some others were well-settled housewives who had decided to teach us, for it rendered them a handsome shopping credit, over and above the handful sum their (respected and respective) husbands would have ever entrusted them with. In my professional life, I was imparted training by such people at times who knew much little to me and hence frequently lauded me, so that I can talk with the chalk, while they amused themselves with the my pretty colleagues.

Teaching, unfortunately, requires knowledge. Degree, though are the minimum guarantee of an individual possessing a specified set of skills, however are not so reliable. I have experienced a few heavily qualified people who were (and still are) unable to teach trivia, while a few (read rarest of the rare), who could teach Object Orientation without a book and using just plain English as an aid.

The regulations on Universities command that a lecturer must be a Masters at minimum, while PhD is recommended. In the booming economy of India, any one with a right degree is getting a job. They may or may not deserve it. A very insignificant fraction of graduates choose for post graduation. PhD is rare. Where will then Universities fill the vacancies from? Simple. Majority of such people, who were good for nothing and hence had to choose higher education as the only recourse.

A few people do take teaching as the full time career. But their percentage is too little to accommodate the demand. Additionally, opening a Coaching Class has become a more profitable business model, lately. Students derogate school faculties and join a coaching class. Later, they derogate that coaching and join another. The Coaching Business foster, the Universities perish.
And this march to perdition is pretty convincing. Teachers are, unarguably, the principal factors in deciding the reputation of the college. The placements, as a metric, is a function of the quality of the teachers. The better are the teachers, the better are the students. A company recruits the best. They want value for money!

So, to fuel the economy with fresh blood and sharper intellect, teachers play an quintessential role. What do they get in return? Peanuts. For record, the salary of the Dean of IITB is, on an average, 10 times less than the highest CTC offered to the BTech graduate from the same institute. That, of a small time ad hoc lecturer in some B class city should hence be calculated proportionally.

In pristine India, the teachers used to live a austere life in a rather skewed locale in jungles imparting knowledge to the wards, while the wards being available as the full time utility boys. Neither can we expect anyone to do so today, nor should anyone do it. Especially, when wards value teachers only for a recommendation letter and not for the knowledge, and when regulations warrants minimum educational qualification for being employable but not for (minimum) respectable pay cheque.

Education is not a joke. Nor are the teachers. We allocate 4.1% of the GDP for education. Not all is spent and a substantial portion spent is to accommodate Reservations. Why not accept teaching as a profession and teacher, consequently, as professionals? Lets pay them at par, respecting their contribution and not just pay them with truck loads of fake respect, for respect can never be paid; it is always earned. In the event of we paying them scantily, we will continue to get horrible students like me, who has been laughing all his lives on them, for a reason, now much obvious.

Kumpootar

One fine morning, I received a call from a close friend. He conveyed me in a jubilant voice that his long cherished dream of going offshore has come true; he was flying within a month. I congratulated and parted off.
Later, I pondered over the reason he had cited for his desperation for an offshore. He had tagged it as 'a necessity.' He had argued that it is much more sensible to pay an EMI of 15k for an owned house, rather than paying 8k as rent for a used, old, ragged shelter he had called as 'room'. The offshore stint shall endow him with a decent down payment corpus, say circa 6lk from a 6 months stay. Some money he had accrued self. The rest, the banks are eager to lend on EMIs. Perfectly logical. I had supported him generously.
However, the only point that made me skeptical about my own assertion was the implicit premise my friend had assumed. I had assumed the same premise. The Indian IT industry, incidentally, has also assumed it, taking it to be as 'granted' perpetually.
The premise is, but, a naive one: The Rupee shall be as weak.
Permit me to be tad technical. The value of INR is pretty low as compared to the USD. The exchange rate of One USD is circa 45 INR. In layman's terms, 1 INR = 2 cents of USD. In Hindi, we can safely call it, "Do Paise Bhar Ki Kiimaat Hai" absolutely, in literal sense!
Infosys began in 1988. Till 1998, only a handful of Indians knew its existence. Most of them were stock brokers and the shareholders. The petit bourgeois, which nowadays finds it as a prestige to tell that their son or daughter is in Infee, a similar cliché that was in vogue for the Sarkari Naukari a decade back, didn't know its existence, per se. Infy is just an illustration. The same story holds true for all Indian IT companies. One more trivia: Patni Computer Services and Oracle Corporation both began on same month of same year.
The point is, why (Indian) IT companies are looked upon as the most coveted place in the eyes of greenhorns (save IITians) vis-a-vis the good old manufacturing sector industries? The one word answers is: Hype.
1991, India did away with the Socialist ideology, which had given them MiG fighter planes whose uncertainty of remaining air-bourne is higher than that of an Indian bride wearing same Saree on her wedding day. Markets were opened. Capitalism was accepted. Privatisation was in-thing. In short, LPG was allowed and so was growth. As a consequence, Rupee fell, miserably. Exports, processed goods and ilk, were pathetic both in quantity and quality. Imports were high. Foreign Investors were scared to invest in, because of outdated laws and policies with things like HDD and IKG being the PM of the country. Foreigners were more happy selling the goods, not investing their money. Prior to LPG, around 1988, One USD was equal to 15 INR. Rupee slid to around 35 for One USD by 1998.
Now, who is benifitted from such situations? One: The developed economies, who have strong currency, Two: The exporters in developing economy, for they get takers for their goods, not necessarily for its quality but, for the sheer reason of the goods being cheap. Why did government allow this? To ramp up its forex reserves, as a backup in case the '1991 Chandra Shekhar do' is repeated.
If one gets a piece of work done for 2 cents, in lieu of One dollar, which businessman would say no; to a profit margin of 98%? Let me reiterate: 'It's not the quality of the Indian Software Programmers (read coders) that attracts US IT MNCs but, the aforementioned margin.'
3000 USD per month. 18000 USD in 6months. 30% living expense. 12,600 USD safely in pocket. Back home: 5,567,000 INR. 3000 USD per month, PPP adjusted, is equivalent to 27,000 INR. 30% living expense. At the end of six months, my friend has only 1,08,000 INR. Just 19% or 1/5th of offshore savings! My friend's logic is perfect. That Indian IT companies is hence a ultimate destination is, however, a perfect hogwash.
FDI inflow in India is unprecedented. Nations and their companies are flocking to invest money in India. Reason? Huge potential Consumer Market. The incomes have soared, thanks to rupee devaluation. Banks are eager to lend: Personal, House or Corporate loan. The consumer has become aware of the term called 'Quality of Life' and has no qualms in buying commodities (read comforts) on credit. Cause? One: The purchasing power, i.e., incomes, have shot up. Two: Credit is available; aplenty and hassle free.
Now, when stronger currency is ready to buy a weaker one (the FDI inflow), the value of the weaker currency improves. FDI, by definition, is in infrastructure viz. roads, power, et al. Never services. The latter may get collateral benefits, nonetheless.
The issue is this: If Rupee appreciates - which it has already started to, as the regulator is doing away with the artificial ways to keep it weak (to support exports, in order to counter imports) - the foreign importer will loose the cost advantage they derive from India! Say, tomorrow One USD can just buy 15 INR, that translates that for a foreign importer, the product shall be dearer by 3 times, or only a third of the quantity of the product can be bought with same amount of foreign currency! Additionally, IT companies gets tax sops from the government, which helps them improve their margins, artificially. For record, the profit margin margin of the most respected Indian IT company for fiscal year 2005-06 was mere 23%, after sops. Without sops in place, it would have hovered circa 20%, equivalent to a 130 years FMCG company in the country. FMCG companies have pretty low profit margin, ascribing because of the altogether different business model they run on. Now, a 20% margin is pretty tight. Services Sector (unfortunately) contributes to over 50% of the GDP of the country. Agriculture 21%. Manufacturing, less than 15%. Funny thing is, the profit of the top rung manufacturing industry (run by the government) is at least 100 times the total revenue of the most respected Indian IT company! However, the greenhorns find it more enticing to join the latter. Reason: Higher package. Can one tell me, now, which company can give you higher package; the one with 1 rupee as revenue or a company with 100 rupees as profit? OK. You bothered about the rise? The one with linear gradient versus the one with exponential one? Very well. Doesn't the exponential function gets asymptotic for higher values of x? Apart from that, the amount of rise is a function of profit margin. Lower the margin, lesser is the rise and so are the chances.
Only a fraction of business of Indian IT companies comes from local customers (>91% offshore). And mind you, no one, not even a roadside cobbler, runs business on philanthropic or altruistic objectives. They look good only in the HR newsletter. For the rest, the truth is always the bottomline. If it plummets, well, you can now guess what it will do.

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Add on (February 24)

Yesterday, one more MiG crashed. :D

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Add on (March 1)

In the forthcoming financial year, the IT companies have to pay 11.3% Minimum Alternate Tax (MAT) that will plummet their bottomline upto 2%. The sops are, hence, being reduced. By 2009-10 fiscal, they will be removed completely. I wonder there will be any IT company running post that. :)


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Add on (May 08)

One more MiG crashed today. :D

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Add on (June 19)

http://www.rediff.com/money/2007/jun/11dollar.htm

The Curfew

The news read that there was some tension in my home town. Further reading and inquiries at home revealed that there was a clash between two fanatic groups. The issue was rather trifle. Believers of a particular ethnicity traditionally celebrate their yearly festival at a state owned ground in the city. The other ethnic group, since last few years, has suddenly discovered this to be improper and inappropriate. Reason? The place is state owned, and hence, should not be given to a followers of a particular ethnicity. They, however, safely forgot the gross misuse of such facilities, electricity and public machinery they themselves and their brotherhood indulge into shamelessly, every other day in the name of festivals.

The latter group stoned abodes of the former ones this time, to show their disregard and disgust. Taking a cue from it, they replied commensurate. The news of the event spread like wildfire and soon the followers of both sects were on roads eager to slain throats and burn whatsoever was visible. Half a dozen casualties happened. The Police act, as usual, after taking due time under the name of 'accessing the situation' and imposed curfew. A commercial areas were shut; all shops closed. City came to screeching halt.

Many scholastic students, of both ethnicities, have Pre-Board examinations going on. Many collegiate ones have concluding lectures in the offing. Many residents, old and young alike, couldn't commute to their offices. Many ad-hoc workers and daily wagers at the commercial establishments were rendered jobless. Many deals, which could have been cheaper to both parties, were cancelled. Many loaded trucks and lorries were stranded in the outskirts, as markets were closed. Many families were suddenly out of grocery stock. Many letters, official and personal both, were not delivered when it was required. Many emergency cases couldn't get immediate medication for Ambulances weren't plying. Many passenger were stranded on airports, railroad terminus and bus depots, for rickshaws and taxis were rarely visible.

What was gained? Anything in terms of money, time, comfort or even the much talked about spirituality? Why aren't such morons shot dead right in the first place? They, anyway, don't contribute even worth a penny to the their own family, economy or society. Spirituality is a far pie. People with work don't even have time to die. And they have so much free that they keep killing people, burn state property and ilk. If they are so much free (read so worthless that no one offer them a job), why not terminate them? Living without a purpose is a sin. Let us save the poor 'spirits' from committing sins. Let's salvage them. A few illogical people (they say God is beyond logic) say that God gets happy by sacrifices. They slain mute animals. Lets offer their God, the sacrifice of the supreme creature He has created. He will be more than happy. The God, after all, must be happy. The humanity be damned. Isn't it?

Atlas Shrugged

Let me confess it candidly, it's the best piece of literature I have read till date. Reason? It's a rhetorical question. The book is a fine piece of philosophy, that is practical, sensible and based on just one premise: Reason. The books on philosophy are deemed (incorrectly) as of abstract ideals. The dictionary definition for philosophy is: it's a set of belief or attitude to life, that guides one's behaviour. The book does justice to the definition, in toto.

A life without reason is no life. The reason can be as meagre as assurance of two square meals a day or even to run a transcontinental railroad. But there should be one. Reason is the only absolute. An absolute, that consummates with one's mind to procreate everything else, that is relative to this absolute. Success of a man's life is relative to his own definition of the success, something that he has defined as the reason or aim of his life.

The only sin - the ultimate one - is to life for no reason. The penultimate one, is to fall for the first by divorcing with the reason. Simply put, the most immoral thing is to accept mysticism over rationality.

One wise teacher of mine had once professed aphoristically, "The six eternal friends of any human are: What, when, where, who, why and how." If one strives to keep put with them, he is the happiest man. Ignorance is bliss. Knowledge is power. Mysticism can offer only the former. Reasoning, only the latter. The six intimate friends help one achieve it. The most powerful statement one can make is this: I know. If one has answers, the correct logical, sensible, unbiased, unequivocal and supported by reason, he has found the remedy to all vices. Or, the other way - the mystic escapist way - is to elude every question by pointing fingers at some unfathomable inanimate object whose existence even they can't prove.

The knowledge is the source of happiness. Reason, only way to achieve it. Mind, the only tool to use. Facts, the premise to begin with. Or, one can chose to be ignoramus, thus ignoble automatically, by being oblivious to the truth, reality and practicality.

Running away to jungles, only for the namesake of 'Search of Knowledge', deferring responsibilities of being a human is escapism. Never Sagacious. Cities, towns, metropolis are creation of man - of his conquest over nature - and no bovine, for he has the power to think. Refusal to think and escapism is a bovine trait. IF one can't think, he can't be human. If one can't reason, he can't be human. If one deliberately avoids knowledge and escapes, he can't be human.

The knowledge has nothing to do with the secret of uniting oneself with the God. Everyone is, already; by default. God is Energy. The man who put down the laws of Conservation of Energy, was the most religious man. God can't be created or destroyed; Yes. God has existed since infinity and shall exist to eternity; Yes. God is in every object, animate or inanimate, small or big, human or bovine; Yes. Life after death exists; Yes, the energy changes its form.

Why run to jungles for these answers? I never recited any ghastly incomprehensible hymn or indulged into any illogical ritual. Yet, I could reason out the answers. Anyone can. One needs to think. Rationally, without bias. If there is a question, answer has to be. And an escapist surely can't have it.

Think. Resolve. Compute. Analyse. Decide. Build. Produce. Improve. Qualitatively and Quantitatively, both. In short, grow. Don't beg. Demand only if you can supply something in return. Nothing is free. Don't give, if you can't take. Don't loot, if you can't create.

Life is creativity, a progeny of thought. Stagnation is death. Create assets. Create resources. Make money. Each penny is a materialisation of your thought. A value of your mind. If this money is the root of all evils, I am proud to accept to be the most evil man.

If you understand even a fraction of a percentage of the aforementioned mindsports, read Atlas Shrugged. If not, then may be this urge you to: The book depicts the present of India, written in past, as a future of it, incidentally, coming true by every word of it.

The book is a must read.

The Cost

Is there a cost of life? We never bother. There is no value associated to it. We lose more people in road accidents than cross border firing. More infants die than the senile. Just like that. One day, the maid came with a long face. I acted inquisitive. She muttered that a girl in her locality passed away. Further prodding revealed that she had touched a metal object, which was not earthed properly. She ended, on the spot. Just like that. One of my acquaintances was standing by the roadside, for her car had broken down. She turned out to be a victim of a hit and run case. Struggled for 9 days. Then gave up. Just like that. We keep hearing news about people dying of cold wave, heat wave, drought or flood; changes in weather, in language of household discourse.

Is human life, that cheap? People loosing it for not apparent reason, cause or purpose! Just like that?! And what do we do to avoid it? Pray to God? Isn't it more sensible, logical, practical, fruitful, plausible, possible, doable to fix the equipment's earthing, drive in a lane without overtaking, use counter-intelligence over counter-firing, nurses over daya-bai's, vaccination over blessings, decision over guess, plan before action, think before ink, read before sign, ponder before perorate, analyse before conclude, reason over faith; or simply, be human?

Nothing is free. There is a cost attached to every thing, how so insignificant it may be. If you are offered life versus the engagement ring, on the gunpoint, what will you choose? Won't this be your reflex: 'The ring be damned!', even though, that's the epitome of your love for your fiancé or fiancée? You care about it - the life - only when you are offered to do away with it for some petty object. And what do you use it - the life, again - for? Believing in some senseless, illogical, impractical, fruitless, implausible, impossible, useless mysticism or hypocritical values or dogmas? You say, life is for spiritual attainment and not money. Really? Tell me, can you live without it? Tell me, if you discover yourself bored with the wealth?

Time is money. Life, incidentally is a function of time. By syllogism, Life is a function of money. Taking literary freedom, lets put it this way: Life has a cost. It's invaluable, inevitable, unavoidable, unquestionable, steadily augmenting entity. Care for it - yours and others' equally - just like you do for your money.

Shitta Shilpi and the others

No. She didn't do anything intentionally. For Fame? It's infamy. For money? She can do a couple of more B grade flicks and make much more. For the race? She doesn't have that panoramic viewpoint. For the country? Hah! That's the biggest joke. Ms. Shetty was being a lousy sobbing pathetic participant of an unequivocally useless TV show. The viewer count of the show jumped by 70% after the stunning performances. Ms. Shetty will get a fixed sum. May be, a bit of short-lived public sympathy. The show makers and sponsors have already raked in the moolah! Frankly, Ms. Goody can best be described as this: A pig-nosed ape-lipped hippo, with a fat brain. I mean, Ms. Shetty was looking better to her! Strange, isn't it? And regarding the dialectic between the two, I had following observation. Remember the character of the iron smith - the Arjan - in Lagaan? He was kicked on face by the gora saab when he had banged the hammer on horse leg instead of horseshoe, for he was raged by the derogatory offered by gora saab about India(ns). The gora saab played same trick, successfully again, when he was hitting them badly in the cricket duel. Arjan - loosing temper - pulled the shot, miscalculating, and threw the wicket.

There was no media then. That's the only difference in the two scenarios. Fiction and Reality was never so close!

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No SEZs, till there is a proper compensation package designed (?) for the PAPs. Applause! Lets talk facts. The Land Acquisition Act of India, was enacted in 1895. 112 years back! Farmers in many states - of the traditionally agriculturist economy of India- are doing suicide. (Mansoon in 2007 is expected to be weak.) Gujrat and Maharastra, the most industrialised states, offer highest revenue; taxes and duties. UP and Bihar, the states are blessed with most fertile land stretch and virtually perpetual supply of water. Revenue collection? Statistically, Corporate Tax chunk has increased by 100% to circa 31% of the total Tax kitty (BE 2007), from circa 17% in 2000. The Personal Income Tax chunk has dropped by almost 2 percentage points from 17 to 15, during the same period. The Indian consumers - we - are getting better products: better value for money. Majority of it are manufactured in-house. It's cheap to produce here, rather than import! Government divested completely from Maruti. Government must govern, not manufacture cars. We drive better models than the archetype (or box-type?) 800cc. Again, manufactured in-house. OK. Enough.

A greenfield power plant for 2000MW generation capacity typically demands 3000 acres of land. Currently, for all SEZs taken together, we need to acquire 50,000 acres of land. Say, equivalent to circa 34,000MW of fresh capacity addition. 45,000MW of the total of over 75,000MW capacity addition by the year 2012 is exclusively thermal. Is it achievable? Now? Forgo the Tatas' and Ambanis' SEZ plans.

If Gurubhai overrules such rules, is he an outlaw?

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Moral Policing is an in-thing nowadays. We see it everywhere. The I&B ministry, the Bhagwa Brigade, the Meerut police, the anti-St.Valentinos, et al. Censorship on obscenity and perversion of social values, they fight for. I wonder, why there is no censorship on the News channels. Master had once said, 'I wonder where the news reporting is headed now. The day is not far when watching news with your family would be a taxing affair.' There were days when editors were people of mind. It appears now as if they are, well, word of mouth. What to show and what not appears to be just a matter of chance not choice. Some funny brains ruminate about some utterly irrelevant thing (to the common) like, the mind of the serial killer, the spiritual strength of the idiot kid who couldn't see the trench or the racist and apartheid mentality of the Britons, epitomised by some lowly rotter of the city.

Now, there was a fantastic achievement in the history of Indian Power industry, that went visibly unnoticed. One of the upcoming greenfield project of the biggest CPSU made it's 765kV switchyard operational on January 20, 2007. Importance? Well, by 2012, we have to make all switchyards of that scale. Two, if we transmit at such higher voltages, i²R losses are less; meaning: less wastage, cheaper power, lesser bills, more profit. Three, this pertain to all. Every citizen of India. Shitta Shilpi won't power the TV or reduce your bills.

Energy

Yesterday, power went off umpteen times. As we have APC at the office, initially, work wasn't affected as the PC's didn't go off along with the lightings and the AC. However, later in the day, as the UPS weren't charged enough due to frequent power downs, even the PCs bid adieu. Thankfully, our critical servers were on redundant supply of generators and hence didn't crash. Had they, it would have been a jolly good time pass for all. And then we (read HR) talk about productivity and efficiency in terms of man-hours.

What is the most important thing for any living person in a civilised world? Basic Amenities. Do we have? Unfortunately, inadequate. Why blame the government we elected. By definition, the representatives of the people, after all, represent the cumulative sum of the intelligence of the people. If we are bereft of the bare minimum infrastructure, it is we who are to be blamed. Period.

At the time of independence, 60 years back, our generating capacity was around 33000 MW. Now it is around 1.3 GW. Sixty years for 1 GW; less than 1700 MW per year! As of date, over 45000MW capacity addition is in under way, that is to be synchronised by 2012. Looking at the current (administrative and financial) prospects, it seems feasible. So, in next 5 years, we shall have added around 30% of the our present capacity; equivalent to the proportionate work accomplished in about 30 years between 1947-2007! Can it be done? The answer is an emphatic, Yes. Power, Oil, Gas - in short, Energy - is the need of the day. It has always been.

There are two ways to be happy. One, the escapist way, preached by the pristine sages of India which professes an individual that to be devoid of the material pleasure. Simply speaking, they convey that one should not desire. If there are no desire - of any variety - there is no discontentment. If there is no discontentment, one is happy. So, live in jungles with monkeys, eat herbs, sleep on hay and enjoy the nature. The other way is the entrepreneurial one. Take risks, invent, discover, desire; for comforts, facilities, amenities, et al. Enjoy them. Be happy. These are tangible things. Material of the Materialistic pleasure. One can quantify these things, at least, unlike the unfathomable and unquantifiable Spiritual one. OK. Where are these so-called materialistic things going to come from? Heaven? Absolutely not. We have to manufacture them. If we want it, we need to work. We need to upgrade infrastructure. We need to produce energy. It's the motive force that can drive us ahead. Granted, energy can't be created or destroyed. But, what we have been doing since last two millennia? Chanting dohe? How much moral purification it did? The Noida Serial Killer? Had he had better income, he would have savoured some vegetarian delicacies over the human flesh. We have been wasting incredible amount of energy on ostensibly worthless pursuits in the name of public welfare under the fictitious banner of 'Help the Poor'. How far are the alms going to feed? If the hand gets rewarded with money for doing nothing but just because it's the hand of poor, why that hand would ever desire to achieve the strength to earn. We need to teach how to fish, rather than giving away fish. And then, who is we? No, not only the government. Why blame them. If you swear, you will catch no fish. We have to work. We have to earn the happiness we desire, lest we are ready to be labelled as escapists.

We want malls, cars, ditch less roads, uninterrupted power supply and ilk. Where is it going to come from? Doing maintenance of obsolete mainframe code? Or by answering overseas calls? Where are you going to power the mainframes from? Where are you going to power the telephone exchanges? Where are you going to power the escalator you used to reach the next floor of mall? What are you going to fuel the car with? Spiritual drivel? Rubbish.

We need to manufacture. That needs industries. That needs skilled manpower. That needs education. And it can't be achieved by reservations, for sure. Prosperity is a function of (skilled) workmanship, not alms. I firmly stand by the following words of John D. Rockefeller, "I can think of nothing less pleasurable than a life devoted to pleasure." We need to realise what drives the world. It's not service. It's manufacturing. Products. And that needs Energy.

Think over it.