Books, Business and Bhagwad Gita

When I walked through the door less cabin, with paintings adorning the walls and a glass pane overlooking a beautiful garden, the ambiance impressed me. The man who entered after me impressed me even more. Witty, calm and someone with a sense of humor is how I will describe P Rajendran, co-founder and COO of NIIT. An IIT graduate, he can talk about politics, movies and spirituality with as much clarity as about computers and engineering. Reminiscing about his IIT days, he says, “I always wanted to be an outstanding engineer. I wanted to invent something”.

His passion for engineering can be traced back to the influence his uncle, the first engineer in the family had on him. “I was very much influenced with his strong ethics His professional attitude impressed me much”, adds Rajendran. So, was his uncle the biggest influence in his life? He thinks for a moment and replies, “No, he inspired me in a way, but not completely. I don’t think I have ever been influenced completely by anyone or anything”. He takes a moment before he goes on, “However, there is this book by W.Somerset, Razor’s edge. It made a lasting impression on me and opened my horizons to bigger world outside my own”, he says, suggesting me to get a hand on that book myself. I promise him to do that as soon as I get a chance.

His love for books is apparent from the way his eyes twinkle at the mere mention of the word. An avid reader, Rajendran has read everything from Ayan Rand to Bhagwad Gita. “I have marked some paragraphs in Gita red and put some tags on them. I sometimes go back and read those verses”, he adds. Influenced by Howard Roark, Rajendran believes that everyone should have an idol like him and think differently and respect and understand the other side of the story, without leaving the faith in one’s own belief.

Ask him about the toughest time in his life and he replies with a resolve in his voice. The same resolve that got his company through some of the worst times in the history of IT in the country. “I think 2001; the last slowdown was the toughest time for us. India was just starting to understand IT. ‘After 20 years IT dies in India’ was the general story going around”, he says. Someone who believes in the concept of FOF, fight or flight, he fought all right. “We went into aggressive marketing. There were 14 centers and rest franchise of NIIT around the country at that time. Some partners got scared and pulled out. So we went ahead and invested our own money and from 14 we went on to have 50 centers in the country. This reinstated faith in other partners and gave the message that we are going to go on”, says Rajendran.

The calm confidence in his voice suggests that he is someone who knows well how to balance his personal and professional life well. Ask him about this and he asks back quizzically, “I didn’t know the term personal life existed”, breaking into a chuckle the next moment. “I do not believe in partitioning my life in different compartments. It’s all integrated. If my wife calls me in a middle of a meeting I will pick up her call and if someone was to call me on a Sunday afternoon, I will pick up his call as well”, he adds.

So how does he handles difficult situations?“Depth of knowledge about the problem is of utmost importance. Also there should be a sense of urgency in tackling the problem and a laid-back attitude is a complete no-go,” he replies. His body language is a testimony that he believes in what he preaches. A straight back, alert eyes and a quite voice gives an impression of toughness and agility.

War movies, music and theater are things that relax him. “When my daughter was born, she was my stress buster till the time she was growing”, he adds.

Once I am done with the interview, he saw me take out the batteries of my Dictaphone and said, “You doing that to save energy right? I will give you a better idea, take a cloth and put it between the connection and the batteries, it will save both time and energy” and winks at me. I smile back; take my bag and leave, a little wiser and extremely satisfied with the meeting.

A day's deaparting gift...

I was coming back by 492 as usual this evening. However, there were no ‘Ladies’ seat, as where it is generally written that it is allotted for our sex, was painted in white. I personally think that the conductor of the bus believed very strongly in non –discrimination on the basis of sex funda. Or maybe he was just done with resolving the many man-woman clashes over this particular issue. Whatever be the case, I ended up sitting next to a man on a seat, where usually a woman is seated.
Don’t get too excited we barely looked in each other’s direction, and completely forgot the existence of the other when the bus started to move. I was engrossed in my music and sometime while I was listening to some random song, I looked in his direction. He was crouched in his corner of the seat. He probably thought that if he dared to come on ‘my side of the seat’, I might just pounce on him and eat him raw (I strictly refuse to believe that my dead expression was the reason for his peculiar behavior, and strongly believe that either he has a very demanding lady boss or girlfriend, there isn't much difference either way, or else he must have been abused by a woman some time in his life). He also had his bag clutched close to his heart. It looked like his heartbeats were being pumped directly from this bag of his. I went back to my dead expressions and ‘Dard-de-Disco’ (One can only listen to this number if one is either drunk or drugged or has sat from 9-6 in his/her office with three meetings, with two different bosses who don’t see eye to eye. With me it was the latter one).
And then I smelled a very familiar smell for a fraction of five seconds. I must here inform anyone who is reading this that I have a strong olfactory sense. Perfumes, flowers are therefore my preferred options for any sort of gift giving or receiving occasion (those close enough to present me with my birthday gift please take note of this fact and for a change give me something that I really like. Also those who know my address are hereby given a chance to do some good in life by making someone else that is me, happy. :P) Coming back, this particular smell is actually from a perfume called ‘Charlie’. The last I smelled this smell was, when I was I guess 13 or 14 and my neighbor, Jigna, was learning how to make perfumes. She had made this particular one which she presented to me (my mum actually, but she never used it). I used to wear that perfume almost on a daily basis and was very fond of the smell. Anyways, this fragrance turned my attention to the person sitting next to me, as I thought he might be wearing that perfume. This man or rather a boy on his way to becoming a man was fair, wavy black hair with a touch of brown and an extremely peaceful face.
Night formed the background with light thrown from the yellow bulbs rushing past. This contrasted so well with the still image of a milky white face with barely smiling lips, white shirt, brown half sweater and blue jeans. That image gave me my first genuine smile of the day. I didn't like this guy in absolutely any way. I wasn't even thinking of him. But his presence somehow helped me relax. And that smell took me back in time when a whiff of perfumes on strangers used to make my heart flutter and flowers were known to me by their scent. I thought it was the day’s departing gift to me.

Another country hanged from the rope of 'Liberation'

It’s been a while since the Israel attack on Gaza strip, yet once again, flooded the international page of our dailies. Most of us, who can give only 10 minutes of our time to the world, will be familiar only with terms like Hamas- the victim, Israel- The big bad wolf and US- its ally. Maybe that is the reason people have been writing absurd mails about ‘saving’ Gaza. I am not of the opinion here that Israel was right and Gaza wrong. The question unfortunately does not arise of right or wrong. It’s all about power. It always has been.
For those of you who do not know, elections are supposed to be held very soon in Gaza. I would also like to mention here that not all are in favor of Hamas there. This war has however turned those not in favor of Hamas on their side. So, this can very well be a strategy to swing votes in their favor and come into power once more. A few deaths here and here is not a price big enough to deter them from getting the highest post in the country. Actually, it’s few people less to govern for them. Also even in Israel elections will be held very soon and the same thing can be said for them as well. After all, history is a witness to the fact that nothing works better in favor of political parties than war. The wonders that Kargil did for BJP is known by everyone.
In this case it was Hamas that broke the truce by attacking Israel first. The fact that the truce was suppose to get over in a few days after the attack, now withstanding. Israel was willing to extend the peace period with Hamas.
It may sound like I am in favor of Israel but that is truly not the case. U.S and Israel have more commonalities than the Jewish population in both the countries. They both believe that they are the sole guardians of terms like ‘liberation’ and ‘freedom’. I really had a good laugh, when I read that Mr. Ehud Olmert, PM of Israel, said that the attacks on Gaza was a way to ‘liberate all the Palestinians’, in a report by the agencies. Rings a bell? Let me help you, this was exactly what Bush said when he was going on a war with Iraq. U.S and Israel think that if once declared a terrorist organization by them, no group is liable to rule a country, the fact that the people of that country are the one’s who brought these ‘terrorist’ organization into power, is immaterial. After all how can these people who do not even understand the meaning of simple words like ‘freedom’ and ‘liberation’ be capable to decide for themselves and their country? It is their moral duty to make them and the rest of the world interpret these terminologies form their point of view.
Another similarity between Gaza and Iraq is, both are rich in natural resources. We are all aware of the madness that is created by the words ‘petrol’ and ‘natural gas’. These terms have been officially recognized by the world to offset the word ‘Humanity’. There is an untapped natural gas resource in the Gaza Marine gas field, an area about 36 kilometers off of the Gaza coast, estimated to be 4$ billion USD. In 1999, UK based British Gas (BG) discovered natural gas there. BG proposed to pump the gas into Israel, however Gaza and Israel couldn’t agree on the price.
Yet even before the talks broke off, the situation shifted dramatically in June 2007 when Hamas violently ousted Fatah from power in the Gaza Strip, claiming ownership of the gas fields off the coast and the proceeds from the sale of the gas. This posed a serious problem for both Israel, which obviously was not going to pay a portion of the money to Hamas, and to BG, which was banned by its government from negotiating with Hamas, declared as a terrorist outfit by the UN.
“Looking at the current situation, the main objective of the IDF is to break down Hamas to the point where it is no longer capable of attacking Israel, or to negotiate a binding cease-fire agreement with an assurance from Hamas that it will stop its daily rocket attacks and cease smuggling weapons into Gaza through tunnels connected to Egypt.
Removing Hamas from power in Gaza and reinstating Fatah will be almost impossible. However, according to newspaper reports, cabinet ministers have been told that some Hamas leaders in Gaza are desperate for a cease-fire and would be willing to settle on almost any terms stipulated by Israel”, reported Jerusalem Post.
Israel till now has been getting natural gas from the neighboring country Egypt. The realization that Egypt’s resources will get over sometime in future has dawned upon our friends now. So, why not bleed Gaza whose airspace, territorial waters and land borders are under Israeli military anyway.
Right from food to electricity, everything is brought into Gaza from Israel. The biggest exporter for Gaza is Israel. Israel is the only connection of Gaza with the outside world (the opening from the Egypt side closed after Egypt lost Gaza in 1967 to Israel). Basically Gaza is actually only a strip, which can be called an extended territory of a full-fledged countryIsrael, known by another name.
So, practically speaking, what sense did it make for Hamas to attack Israel when they know they are in such a delicate situation? The whole natural gas bit was on hold anyway. By attacking Israel, Hamas has only given Israel a way to make sure that it can now take over those resources by including them in the cease-fire agreement. Hamas had the chance to actually extract money from this whole deal. Alas! Their hunger for power is going to make sure that the country never comes out from the depths of poverty whose bottom it is hitting already. Maybe it will give birth to another extremist group which will bomb either U.S or Israel and then Israel can formally take over Gaza. Then we shall have ‘freedom’ in the Gaza strip. And then we will also have another war and another country to talk and abuse and blame.

One of those days...

For normal people the cause of depression will be, maybe a heart-break, fight with boy friend, parents divorce, friends betrayal…but not for me. For me the cause of depression last Friday was a PRESS CONFERENCE. Yes, as weird and impossible as it may sound to you, it is very much true, and possible with my fate. The fact that it was not one of ‘the best days of my life’, might have had something to aggravate my depression, but nevertheless, this can not undermine the role that PRESS CONFERENCE played in bringing out those watery captives from the prison of my eyes.
It was on that fateful Thursday, the 11th of this month. I got up and realized I was too lazy to boil water, which I have to do because I am too lazy to go and buy a rod (also the fact that I am concerned about my electricity bill, now with standing). So, I took a bath from chilling tap water, for those of you who don’t know, I stay in Delhi and Delhi in winters is like a Harry Potter land where there is a constant presence of Dememtors in the area.
So, after cursing the place, god, my landlord and my office, I set out for my office. One of the most irritating things about Delhi is, that busses don’t stop at the bus stop if there is no passenger who wants to get down or else you are not literally standing in front of the bus, waving your hands high up your head, creating a doubt about your sanity in the minds of those who are not used to this kind of humiliation and are not aware about the limited viewing capacity of the bus drivers.
So, while I was waving my hands like I am trying to catch butterflies in the middle of the street, five bus drivers decided that I was actually doing that and ignored my pleas to stop. Finally, at 9:50 (my office starts at 9:30) a buss driver decided to show some pity on me and stopped the bus. It was as usual stuffed with legs and hands and sweat. I didn’t even bother to try to get past these as I knew I will only be beaten up by the crowd. So, I was standing right at the edge of the bus. A word of advice for those who plan to follow my example, DON’T DO IT. The drivers not only lack visual capabilities, but are completely ignorant that they are actually carrying a bus full of people, most of them hanging on others and bits of metal for dear life. So he made sure that I was swinging like a pendulum and hit each and every part of my body, with either a person pushing his way to get down or from the many rods in the bus.
Finally I arrived at Nehru Place and by them I assure you every joint in my body was paining and screeching for a massage. Thinking about beautiful resorts and spas, I made my way to my office building. I missed the lift and had to wait for some five minute before another arrived. Some how I knew that my day has just started, and was I right or what? The lift got stuck at 3rd floor (my office is at 4th) and after five minutes of everyone in the lift trying their hands at the panel, the lift started juggling upwards and stopped at the 10th floor directly. I rushed back down and slipped, making the two very executive type (good-looking though) men almost giggle. They offered for help but I was too embarrassed to even look at them, so I nodded my head and said something about water on the stairs (it was as dry as an autumn leaf) and left. I kept wondering all the way to my office that why does it so happen that whenever some good-looking man passes me, my life becomes a horror story. Meeting good-looking men is jinxed for me I guess.
So, after reaching my office, I asked for a cup of tea as usual, which I have become quite addicted to, and my brain simply refuses to work without it. Guess what? My tea machine was broken and I couldn’t get any. Typical na? So, I decided to order some tea and biscuits from down stairs ‘chaiwala’. However, before I could even complete this thought, I made the suicidal mistake of telling my boss that there was a press conference of Microsoft today and before I could complete even that thought (which was of not going there) my boss requested (which as an employee when came down to me looked like an order) to go there. I went to see him and told him that I didn’t think it was wroth it. Only that I didn’t say it that way, I said “What do I do in this press conference”. Yes, I know it sounds like the fish is asking how to swim and the reaction you would have given your employee was the same that I received. Which was a blank look and a repetition of the same question in a half-irritated and a half-awed voice. After repeating after me, my boss said I know there is no news there, but go and make contacts at least. I agreed to do the same, for which I paid a heavy price I must say.
I was supposed to go to Taj palace at Sujan Singh Park. I am fairly new to Delhi and haven’t really got a chance to explore the place. And honestly, I am so bad with directions and remembering the name of roads and places that I wouldn’t have been able to tell the rikshawala directions as and how. So, when you have my sense of direction, you have to depend on the rikhshwala to know the place and trust him completely. That day, I asked five rikhshwala to take me there and all in turn asked me if I knew where it was. So, I gave them the look my boss gave me and went ahead to look for another one. Finally, I got a guy who agreed to take me there, however the person who got off the rik before I got in went to some office in the interior of Nehru place, as he forgot his money and had to borrow from someone. This whole process took some 15 minutes during which time the rikhshwala and I were waiting for the guy the come back. After that he drove to Taj at such an excruciatingly slow and cautious way (I am so used to fast driving in Delhi), that I almost dozed off and was rudely awaken by him. I paid him and entered the hell hole (Imagine paying to go to hell!).
I must mention here that the press con was supposed to start at 11:15 and I was dot on time, considering all the odds. However, it is a cardinal mistake to expect a press con to start on time. All though I was expecting an half and hour delay for the proceedings to take place, what followed was unacceptable. There were no chairs to sit on and because they had five laptops and smart phones they wanted to give away to people, who win a very idiotic game I must say, there were flocks of journalist pilling up in that room, which was half the size of a big classroom (the other half was occupied by their banners and laptops for groups to play). Everyone knows that Vista and the smart phones by Microsoft aren’t doing well, so it was basically a promotional strategy. They had set up some laptops in various colors, blue, green, etc and two people were standing around it, making us understand the so called ‘new features’. The lady at the podium started the meet by 12:30, which means that that for nearly a hour and a half we were simply standing and looking at strangers , and as the AC (in winters) was on full blast, our legs were shivering from the effort of standing and bearing the cold as well. That lady herself was smiling like a maniac (literally) and speaking of oceans and skies at a Microsoft Press con. Go figure! Even the PR guys I later heard were flabbergasted by her lack of intelligence. Even for a Marcom person, she was dumb.
We were sorted out in groups and after listening to that lady go on and on about describing the various colors (in which we were sorted), we were sent to laptops under each color platform and were educated about the features. The features were not only old and nothing extraordinary, but also the people talking about them looked like they were being tortured by having to handle us. Lame jokes and scripts that they had prepared (friend-talking-to friend act) added to our misery. I remember one man in particular, who was telling us about this new feature in MSN (which is owned by Microsoft) where one can customize their smiley. The smiley he chose to customize as an example for us was the kissing one. A middle-aged man kissing on a chat box, which fills up completely with his cracked lips, in a press conference, is not a pretty sight, trust me you. While the rest of my colleagues were smiling or looking at their feet, I was openly gaping at the man.
Also the mad lady on the podium was counting down to 10 in every few minutes and pressing the buzzer until she saw some ear bleeding. After that I didn’t have the heart or sense to take in the rest of what went on.
The reason I went there was to meet Hemant their new Joint MD for online and marketing. He was sucked in from Bharti and I was told to make ‘contact’ as is necessary in our line of business. He came around one and addressed the meeting for some 10 minutes. In fact I think those 10 minutes was the only worthwhile period of those three hours I spent there.
However, he came by 1:15 and the whole circus, with the games played and stuff, was done by 2. By that time we all had been standing for almost three hours straight. By now, most of the journalists were sitting on the floor completely exhausted. Luckily there was a rug and they had the comfort of knowing that their asses wouldn’t freeze, like their legs had.
Before they announced the winners, they requested us to join them for lunch. Most of us have our food by 1, so you can imagine how hungry we must be by 2. I, for one left office without having anything so I was famished. However, the line was so big and people so hungry that I didn’t really get a chance to eat properly. Also the fact that the whole set-up of the stalls was done in a space of 3 foot, didn’t help the situation. By then I was done with the whole thing and left on the verge of tears. I reached office, abused everyone and everything, bitched about the whole damm press con, cried a bit (as I was in office) and had momo’s (veg one’s).

When Mumbai got raped once again

27th November, it was the day I had to go to Jodhpur for a press conference. My flight was at 12, so I was peacefully sleeping. At 8 my friend called me and gave me the news of Mumbai terrorist attack that happened previous night. I will very honestly confess that I heard the news half asleep, nodded my head and went back to sleep. I will not get into this whole discussion of how numb and selfish we have become. It is a reality lets accept it. Yes, we have become numb, because we are not left with much choice.
Should we blame the government and the security lapse? I think we should and we have to. We pay taxes heavily for our security and anyone who is even a little interested in the finance world, will know that every country keeps the maximum and a flexible budget for security of the country. Should we blame the politicians? Yes we should, because their job profile clearly states that they are responsible for our safety.
And last but not the least, should we blame our selves? Yes, we should. Not only because we have become numb, but also because we are not joining politics and making a difference. I read a post by Khusboo, a very dear friend of mine on face book, about five minutes ago. And God, was I frustrated by that post or what. The reason I avoid reading opinions in newspapers because it tells me things I already know. The post like many of that same nature spoke a lot about how we are realizing the impact of “terrorism” because it’s happening in our own backyard right now. Sorry to say but it was always happening in our backyard, it’s just that now we have forums like facebook and blogpost and everyone has decided to start writing on these subjects.
I do not want to say here, that the writing in its own effect was bad or wrong. No, it was not. Although I do feel that it did not ask the basic question, which I would like everyone who reads this blog to ask themselves at least once. Why did a 25 year old man become a terrorist? What has gone so wrong with the world that people are ready to kill themselves and others for absolutely no rhyme or reason? What is it that we as individuals and a country can do to save these self-destructive people from themselves and others from them as well?
I have a few theories on what can be the reason for all this, which I do not claim to be an absolute truth. As mentioned it is a theory and I would like everyone to look at them that way. Now, as to why a person picks up a gun, there are multiple reasons behind it. They are brain washed by a few leaders who want political power and their own pawns in the system being the most logical one. Although I don’t think that these leaders are the main problem. They are simply playing the old game, which has been a tried and tested formula for every leader, but with new weapons.

The mail focus for me, is that individual and his issue with the system that makes his mind so vulnerable to such manipulations. He could be poor, or an educated engineer with no work or someone who has been fooled to believe that the rest of the communities are being unfair to his community or religion and he is only reacting on their behalf. In all these cases, it is the collective responsibility of the state to take care of that individual. To make sure that none of these reasons rise for some 25 year old to pick up arms.
Looking at the second question, I would say that the thing wrong with all of us is that we have simply forgotten the importance of being personal and everything is too mechanical and technical these days. It has led to a lot of insecurities popping up amongst the common man. We are so engrossed in our own lives and computers, we simply forget to even look at what our friends or family or even a neighbor, is going through. It has kind of made us blind to their problems and issues. And here I am talking about ‘terrorist’ who are not living in the Kashmir’s of this world. They are in fact a part of our neighborhood in Delhi and Mumbai.
Terrorist living in remote areas have different things working for them. Things like poverty or an Afzal Guru scenario, where a person is forced to become a terrorist by holding their families hostages by these so called leaders. In these areas only our leaders can help them by empowering them with a job or security for their families. Or else one of us can join politics. And yes I am thinking about it myself.
So, should we kill these terrorist. Maybe yes we should. But will this solve the problem of terrorism. I think not. What we have to tap at is the root cause of all this. One of the very obvious of which is development. And here I do not mean making flyovers and dams. Development is changing the attitude of the people. India is a developing country where people earning lakhs of ruppess pee on the road. I think this statement should make you stop and think.

Also, we have to learn ourselves and educate those around us that religion is a personal faith and if somebody tells us that their religion is better than ours we should simply keep devotion to ours and not start reacting to it. As this is what the religious heads do to poke at our most sensitive and intimate belief.
Secondly, please let’s get out of our computer mode and take some time out of our busy lives for our friends and family. How long has it been that you have called one of your closest friends who are not in the same city? Or met those who are in the same city. How many of us take out 10 minutes out of our busy schedule to talk to our parents or siblings or kids or spouses? To know what is it that they are going through or maybe just to know how was their day. It might sound very naïve but this is the only way to make sure that a kid is not lured towards extremism because he doesn’t have parents to talk to at home and seeks solace in god and these so called religious heads to get close to someone.
Yes, we can protest and wave flags, but if we do not even communicate personally with our own selves, the cause is effectively lost.

My anthem

There are words everywhere
Words of hope and despair
There are voices screeching away from the enclosed darkness of our homes
And there are voices singing them from the yellow of the sun
But when they enter the walls of my mind
And make themselves comfortable in the corners of it
They squeeze their colors which reflect in me.
Then are all those colors yours?
And am I simply a painting made by you
I think so not
Because in your voices these colors rot
And smelled of the putrid past or
Tasted of the rush of the future
I plucked them from their backyard of past
And caught them while they ran on the path of future
And planted my dreams and hopes on these seeds
Those seeds might be yours but the dreams are mine
The thought might be yours but I am the one who has made them flourish with the water of my reasoning and interpretations
I am not blind and should I choose to see from your eyes,
The choice would be mine
The repercussions will be mine
For, only I am the sole reason for making me
And none shall ever blame thee
For who I am and what I shall be.

A day in my Life

I live alone in Delhi. No big deal, a lot of people do. So, don’t worry this is not another run-of-the mill piece where I am wallowing in the hardships of living alone. I actually quite enjoy myself. But this isn’t about my oh-so-perfect life either. Actually, it’s a part of that perfect life. It’s about one of the most enjoyable and unforgettable day of my life.
Yes, so I live alone and although I love being by myself, having my family around is more than pleasurable. So, on Friday after convincing my dad that he can survive alone, my mum came down to visit me, ignoring the killer looks and heart-burn of my grandma (she personifies Shashikala's character of that typical Hindi movie mother-in-law) and many hints from my dad about his plight (For the life of him he can’t cook and actually I don’t think he should try either because nothing will be left of the kitchen if he ever attempts that feat). So, on Friday my mother and I had a very enjoyable evening wherein we went to Lajpat Nagar market, gossiped about our relatives, had an ice-cream and a gola and bitched about my relatives some more.
Next day my sisters (I have two elder sisters) were going to visit my place. My mum got up at 6 in the morning (thanks to my dad, who simply does not allow her to sleep after 5 because he goes to yoga at that time and obviously my mum has to do everything right from getting his clothes to making him tea, because as I mentioned earlier he is completely lost without her and cannot manage to even comb his hair on his own), and was tossing and turning on the mattress (I am a bachelor, I don’t have a bed!). No, I did not wake up because I am a sound sleeper and the world can crumble around me with cannons going off and aliens riding down with really noisy spaceships and I still wont get up! My mum tried sleeping till 7, gave up the attempt at 7:10 and then went to take a bath. She washed all my clothes (most of them did not require any cleaning according to me but she cleaned them anyway, out of boredom or because she was disgusted by my effort’s of keeping them clean, I do not know). She was done by 8 and by then she was fruitlessly trying to wake me up. Then by 9 she was done with making the breakfast and cleaning the house (my mum is a neat freak and cannot stand a dirty house). Although I said that even cannons blasting cannot wake me up, my mother washing dishes can. The clanking of the plates and cups were enough to wake the dead. So, I was very unceremoniously woken up and had no choice but to try and pick my body up to the bathroom (It often happens with me that when I wake up, although my mind is in my bathroom brushing my teeth my body simply refuses to make this surreal situation real). So after fighting the resistance that my body was offering ,I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face. I then came out and had my breakfast .
Till then we didn't know if my sisters were coming home or not. As they have husbands who will simply refuse to take the responsibility of the kids until and unless it is thrust upon them.
But somehow my sisters managed to convince their husbands that the kids wouldn’t really blow off the place and try and kill them. So being relieved of this temporary job of a jailer they were to come to my place. To freedom at last! But well, one cannot expect exemption from all their responsibilities and roles. And the role that they simply couldn’t shake off was that of a cook. They had to cook food for their family which is nothing short of an army (joint family you see) and can definitely give the appetite of an army a run for their money (or machine guns, have your pick).
As my sisters were supposed to cook for their family, I had to cook for them. No big deal you would say, but what if you have put all the masala and are almost ready to cook your Dal when you realize that the valve of your cooker is missing? It means your cooker isn’t working properly. Did we panic? No we didn’t. I cooked in it and left the rest to god. Apparently it turned out to be just fine. The utensil in which I was to make sabzi for us was too small to hold sabzi made for four people (I guess it never occurred to me and my parents while buying utensils that I might have guest some day at my house or that I will ever cook for them. My relatives really do not believe me when I say I can cook, including my parents).
I managed somehow and it was also quite ok and eatable (I am quite good at cooking actually. And I personally believe that self-praise is necessary at times).
So, with these minor glitches I finished cooking. However, it was 1:30 and my sisters were no where in view. So, I called up their place to find out if they have left or not (both my sisters are married in the same family).
Here I would like to mention they have two phone lines, one upstairs and one down and both are interconnected. So I called them up and guess what, everyone in the house decided to pick up the phone (the attention that you get form your family!). I first spoke to my sister’s mother-in-law but I could not do more than exchange a few pleasantries with her as my oldest niece (14 year old) snatched the phone from her hand, she apparently wanted to talk to me about something but could not because before she managed to take my name, her brother (8 year old) took the phone from her. After this it was a complete chaos! My younger sister’s kid’s (3 and 9 years respectively) picked up the phone from upstairs and all four were fighting on the phone, while in the same house! Yes that’s my wonderful family for you. And what was I doing the whole time? Trying to catch their attention and worry about my prepaid acc getting over. But alas! I failed to make my voice hear over their fighting and was completely denied my existence on the phone by them. Then my brother-in-law came on the phone, and wouldn’t you expect a grown man to sort this mess out? Well, with my family you cant. Instead of telling them all to shut up and keep the phone, he joined in the fighting and in fact started fuelling the brawl. As optimistic as I am, even I gathered that this is not getting me anywhere and I kept the phone without even bothering to say good-bye.
After that we had no option to wait for my sisters to turn up soon. You must be wondering why I didn’t simply call them up on their cells. They are completely technologically challenged and I did not know if they would have got their cell phones with them, which they don’t most of the time. Also, as everyone in my family is partially deaf and cannot hear their mobiles, even if it’s shouting on top of its voice (again and again) and craving for their attention, I knew it was pointless calling them.
It was almost 2:30 now and I was dying of hunger. Finally at 2:40 I decided to have my food as people who know me will tell you that I do not like to ignore natures call (yes of all kinds).
Luckily before I could attack my food with the knife of my hunger, my doorbell rang and my sisters were there. No, I did not get angry at them or greet them, but told them to join me later as I simply couldn’t wait anymore to eat (I could imagine the food begging me too). My sisters joined me before I could manage to get the first bite in (thanks to my super fast mum) and we had a very hearty and enjoyable lunch spiced up with lots of gossip, family and otherwise.
Then we decided to go to Chandini Chowk, as my mum and sis both wanted to buy saris and suits. Most of you must be aware that in India, once married very few ladies wear jeans and t-shirts as their husband’s family isn’t really comfortable with it. Same is the case is with my sisters. So, my younger sister decided to wear my jeans and t-shirt (my elder one didn’t as my jeans couldn’t fit her). Even my mum, who never wears anything but sari, was wearing a salwar kameez.
So, after this makeover was finished we went to catch the rickshaw. Riding on a road of jokes, laughter, light conversation with many bumps and a driver in a lot of hurry, who did not think of us more than human luggage and whose conscience did not screech at him when he drove too fast and nearly hit every vehicle on the road, we reached our destination.
We shopped for nearly two hours and had walked the length of the Bazaar. The crowd was unbelievable and there were enough people there to create a whole new state. The place itself was full of dilapidated shops, and here is where we see irony which can be only found in India, that these shops did a business of more than a crore every year. I imagined the place without the smell of the sweat and the voice of a person and shuddered involuntarily.
I was suffocating and not just by the crowd but from the way the shopkeepers where throwing the exorbitant prices of the most ordinary stuff at us. The fact that people where actually buying them (including my sister) now withstanding. You see I have recently started earning and have suddenly realized the importance money holds. However, the smiles of the would-be brides and their expectant faces along with a pout of a child and the stubborn argument of a girl to buy only the most expensive dress in the shop with her father, were enough to offset the otherwise glumness of the place.
We did our shopping and were ready to go back home. We didn’t find a rickshaw for nearly an hour. When we finally did, we went to 3C’s (a restaurant) in lajpat nagar to eat. My elder sister and I left my younger sis and mum to choose the dinner while we went to the loo to freshen ourselves. After looking at the prices of food items there, my mom decided that we better go to some other place. So, we took a bottle of water (paid more than the MRP, but didn’t really have any choice as we were all dying of thirst) and went to Haldiram’s. Although the prices were no less, my coupons (which I get from office) worked here (We Indian’s can spend 5000 through coupons but 500 in form of cash seems like a lot to us!)
By then my brother-in-law was begging my sisters to return as my niece’s and nephews had fought and blood was shed on both sides. My sisters were ignoring him and I was convincing him to make the kids have haffem (drug) and put them off to sleep.
Although this did not really convince him, he did let my sisters stay as it was already 8:30 by the time we finished with dinner and being the paranoid that he is, he didn’t want them to travel back home so late.
So, after doing a quick jig in Haldiram’s and entertaining people, we went back home. We all changed into my many ‘ghar ke kapade’ (night suits and stuff), we had a cup of tea while watching old songs on my cable TV and some more discussion about my unique and weird family.
Later that night we watched ‘Singh is King’, with special comments from everybody, making the movie 10 times funnier. Had tea at 12 in the night and went off to sleep while talking at 2 in the morning.
That day I did not dream because no dream could compete with the day I had just lived in real life.