Bye Bye Bombay: Looking back - The food

Bombay has an amazing variety on offer to the ones who love their food. From star hotels, to specialist restaurants to road side shops, there is everything to take care of ones diverse palate. I was extremely lucky to roam around a lot with Sid and Sonal, who are people who simply love their food and who know the right places in Bombay for the right kind of food.

Here is a list of some places I have been lucky to visit.

The new years eve of 2004-2005 was spent at the Orchid in Chembur with my best friends here in Bombay and so it would be always special for me. It has a good ambience and a very good Italian cuisine on offer; 5 spices in VT is the place to be for Chinese food. Grand Central near chembur railway station has the best ‘butter chicken’ in the world- which has been disputed by my friend Ritesh, more on him later. Rice boat –of the Western express highway in Bandra gives me good Kerala food, though it’s a trifle too expensive.

Don’t look beyond Nooranis at Haji Ali for Biryani and round it off with some juice and cream at the nearby Haji Ali juice centre. Mahesh lunch home in Matunga is the place to go if you want a heavy duty Tamilian lunch. That has been my haunt whenever I had been to the Aurora movie hall nearby to catch a Tamil flick.

Having resided in the suburb of Vashi for a year and a half, I have frequented almost all the hotels there. The Centre one Mall has every kind of food under its roof, from fast foods to fat foods( McDonalds) to South Indian to Ice creams to Coffee shops.Dosa plaza at the Vashi station complex serves about 100 varieties of dosas, of which many of them are, believe it or not patented.

No mention of the food culture in Bombay is incomplete without the mention of the roadside chaat shops. These are omnipresent and do thriving business. At first glance these shops look low on hygiene and you would be justified in thinking twice before having anything from these shops. But then all of Bombay is polluted and soon you would be immunized to such stuff. So don’t think twice and go ahead and gulp down on the spicy pani puris on offer. The joy of gulping down those small spicy puris one after the other in rapid succession is just too good.

Getting back to Ritesh, I am sure that the best food that I have had in Mumbai has to be ones that he cooked. Whenever we have had a party at his house, he has simply delighted us with his offerings. Cooking is a passion for him and it shows in the variety of dishes that he makes for us. Be it a completely Indianised pasta, some innovative starters, finely cooked mutton or dessert, this guy is simply amazing. Whenever I am browsing through a PG Wodehouse novel and read Bertie Wooster describing the French cook Anatole’s out of the world cooking, I am able to relate to Bertie. Because he might well be raving about Ritesh.

Bye Bye Bombay: Looking back - The Local Trains..

The great city of Bombay (Mumbai) has been my home for the past year and a half.
In a week’s time I would be moving out of this city and going back to Madras(Chennai), my home town. Even though I am completely overjoyed at this development, I am sure I would in more ways than one miss this amazing city. This has to be the most happening, lively and exciting city in the whole country. I have never been to Delhi, have seen only parts of Bangalore and Hyderabad , and while each of these cities claim to be the most happening place, I cannot imagine any other city giving out so much of energy and spirit that Bombay exudes. True, the city has its filth, its slums, it’s never ending traffic jams, pollution, hopeless infrastructure and much more, but it also has a spirit of joy, happiness and helping one another that is so infectious. Many cities call themselves as the city that never sleeps. That description would fit Bombay more than any other Indian city. Over the next few days planning to write about a few things about Bombay that I would miss…

First up, the Local trains

When I say I would miss the trains it is the experience of being part of the lifeline of Bombay that I refer to. Madras also has a suburban rail network but they are a distant cousin to Bombay local trains which defy any sort of logic. Unlike other suburban rail networks which may have a peak hour and lean hour, a busy sector and not so busy sector, a traffic intensive direction and otherwise, the Bombay local trains are as a rule, always full, irrespective of the day, hour and direction of the train( towards town or towards suburbs).

The sight of these beasts thundering into the station with people hanging out of the doors, some of them standing on the windows and many perched on top, perilously close to the ‘touch me - you die’ electric wires is one of the most unforgettable images for me. The agility that the old, the women and the impossibly small kids display in getting into a fairly fast moving train as it swims into the platform has to be seen to be believed. The joy and satisfaction that one gets when he is able to successfully squeeze into one of these packed trains and manage to get a seat is just unmatchable.

When people talk of New York they say that if you spend some time at Times square, you get to see people from all over the world. Along the same lines, if you travel in a local train for some time, you would get to meet people from all over India. One day I counted as many as 6 different vernacular newspapers being read by fellow travelers in just one small section of my compartment. That’s people from 6 states among a sample size of say 20. Truly National.

On the flip side, there also would be verbal duels, scuffles and fistfights many a time on the train as all the trouble of getting into the train, finding a place to stand and getting down at the right station get into people’s heads. Unless you are party to the duel, such fights make the journey more interesting, providing you some good entertainment.

I was lucky to be boarding the train at the origin station ( the7:34 am Vashi to CST local is my train) and so would be able to get myself a prized place near the door and hang out of the train with one half of me inside and the other outside. You may wonder as why I don’t get myself a seat if at all the train was originating from my place; the reason is that I have to get down at the fourth station and so if at all I sit down, it would be virtually impossible for me to dodge the crowd standing inside the train / the crowd waiting to get in at the destination station and get down during the 10 seconds that the train halts. By the time the train reaches the second station it would be filled to the seams with absolutely no space to stand even. At the station where I get down, there would always be a huge mass of people waiting to board this full train. To a new observer this would look like a task tougher than any of the ones that Hercules managed in his life, but what amazes me everyday is that, these people do manage to get into this train, which chugs on unmindfully to the next station to take in another chunk of people.

These trains for me are in more ways than one a true reflection of the city. They are always crowded but accommodative, even though they are not cared for they are dependable and trustworthy - there is a train to serve you almost 24*7.They are a microcosm of the country and carry on unmindful of the abuse, dirt and filth that they are subjected to.

Next up - Eating out in Bombay...

Wankhede Woes- The travails of watching a cricket match

Though I have been an avid cricket fan all my life (being from India, one doesn’t have much choice with regards to cricket) I have never had the opportunity to watch a match live from inside the stadium. So when the Wankhede stadium in Bombay was allotted a day/night match for the India – South Africa cricket series I was all excited and decided that come what may I was going to watch this match.

Though India did win and there were lots of exciting moments, overall when you look the kinds of discomforts one has to undergo for watching the match, watching it on the idiot box looks like a better option. Here is a Wankhede Woe list.

Tickets: Of the 45000(official number) tickets up for sale, only 4500 are given for the general public. The rest 90 percent is given away to affiliated clubs, sponsors and other corporates. Have contacts, watch matches!!

Overpriced Tickets: Initially I was told the tickets would be costing 1150 rupees, and then within a day the price went to 2000. Reason was that the Madras match was washed off and so the Bombay match would be a decider. One would think this is some stock market index reflecting change. India then lost miserably at Calcutta. Then the rates came down to 1500. We must draw an index for this.

Fake tickets: Police estimated about 55000 people in the stadium against a capacity of 45000. That is a whopping ten thousand people who had got in using fake tickets. Funnily I still do not know if I had a real one or duplicate.

Hence the aisles which normally are the place where people walk up and down are full of people standing, squatting, perched on top of another, hanging in mid air and many gravity defying postures. There was no way you could walk through the aisles. If at all I go out during the first drinks break, I would be getting back in only during the next drinks break. (For the cricket illiterate, that would be about an hour)

Security: Food stuffs, water bottles, mobile phones, cameras and anything that can be used as a missile and thrown into the stadium are banned.

But everybody around me was carrying a mobile phone; a chap on the next row was clicking away to glory on his digicam, a bald plated Uncle Fester look alike was smoking away like a steam engine. Security is fool proof; one could have walked in with a hand grenade.

Plastic bottles are banned because people could throw them into the play field and disrupt proceedings. Then pray why are plastic mineral water bottles being sold inside the stadium premises?? You can’t bring your own water bottle, but can buy one from inside, because I presume, these bottles have been bewitched and so if at all you throw them they would boomerang back. Harry potter would have been proud.

Don’t bring any foodstuffs from your home; instead eat the overpriced, under nourishing, low on quality food that vendors sell on the stand. A chocobar of MRP Rs.13 was being sold at Rs 30. Talk of monopolist pricing in economics.

Seats: We were on the north stand, a decent enough part of the stadium that gives you a good view of the happenings, but the seats were pathetic. Since there are so many people you don’t get to have a comfortable sitting posture, u always twist and turn and wriggle and what not and top of it the seats are designed to encourage u keeping your feet on them and not your bums. Hey, come, have a stand...Err... Have a seat!

At the end I had, cramped legs, painful back and butt, hunger, thirst and headache. I thought I was more tired than the players on the field.

The saving graces were that India won the match, there were lots of exciting moments, the crowd was terrific and sporting and it was a good experience watching the match for the first time. If only the authorities could use some common sense, cricket watching would be an out and out pleasure.

The Blog gets a new name

I really was not doing justice to my previous Blog name - a blog a day keeps boredom away. As can be guessed the idea behind the name was to put in a posting daily, but that turned out to be next to impossible. One did not have the time, the inclination or simply there was nothing that the mind would think of that could be put to words. So the name was as big a misnomer as there could be. A blog a month was more like it..

As i was contemplating a new name ( this contemplation was going on for a long while) ,i stumbled upon this fascinating Latin Phrase " Verba Volant, Scripta Manet" - which means. Words fly away, the written( letter) remains. I found that phrase totally captivating and I immediately knew that i have got the name for my blog.

All thanks to my friend from Turkey, Burak Anadolu who has this phrase as his signature and which iam now happily using as my blogs title.

What Numbers got to do with it ???

In India, Cricket is a religion and Sachin Tendulkar is its biggest deity. For the past few years he has been plagued by injuries and bad form and people were starting to write him off. It was also no surprise that during this phase, Indian cricket also went on a downward spiral. From the high of the 2003 world cup (India –Runners up, Sachin – Man of the series, not a coincidence is it?) to a lowly rank of 7 in the International One Day international rankings last month. Sachin was completely away from the game for the last 6 months nursing a Tennis elbow and people said his days are over.

And then 2 weeks back he made his comeback to international cricket. He made 93 and 70 not out in the first two matches; India won four matches on the trot. Coincidence? Could be, but there is no denying the positive influence this guy has on the team. And of course the media has been quick to point out things along the same lines as I have written. But also I saw an interesting TV news piece about Sachin s comeback which was regarding his Jersey number and that’s what I am writing on

Sachin usually wears a number 10 jersey and this series he has been seen wearing a number 33 one. The TV report I allude to was an interview with an astrologer who it seems had advised Sachin to don the number 33. He was talking about stars, planets, lucky charms, lucky numbers and said that number 3 would sum up to healing and good luck and so 33 means double healing and double good luck. As good a cock and bull story as I have ever heard.

Sachin obviously believes in this and so is wearing it, but he knows that if he plays a bad shot he will get out, like how he got out in the fourth match. So, what irritates me is the importance given to this whole numerological mumbo jumbo. People went as far as to attribute his return to form entirely to the numerological effect. Give me a break.

He started playing 16 years ago when colored clothing was used only in Australia. By the time India started having cricket under lights and with colored clothes; he must have scored thousands of runs and become the world’s best batsman while still being about 20 years old. Numbering of the jerseys stared much later and by the time Sachin started sporting the 10 jersey (inspired by football and not by astrology) he was the best ever One Day cricket player and as Tony Greig put it ‘the closest that ever came to Bradman”. And now after 17 years, almost 25 thousand runs and about 70 centuries in International cricket, Sachin’s return to form is due to number 33. There is no substitute to hard work. Numerology, Astrology, lucky charms etc are a matter of faith and superstition that is for each individual to decide and are just emotional supports. The problem is when they are given importance much more than what they deserve and are construed as the be all and end all of things.

Wondering what he will do while playing Test match Cricket dressed in white Flannels. Maybe get out after scoring 33 runs, lucky number isn’t it?

Module 3 - Last days in Karslunde

Much like how a successful movie franchisee comes up with one sequel after the other, every six months I also come with a sequel, about the training modules that I attend in Copenhagen. I had been to the third and penultimate module in CPH from the 15th to the 30th Oct and this one much like the previous editions was a super hit and unlimited fun.

The third module is different for a few reasons. The major difference is that three exams are held in this module. This would be the last module to be held in the module centre at Karslunde (25 kms south of CPH), coz the final module is held in a different venue. By the third module, most of us know each other really well and therefore the fun and the energy is much more real.

We 4 from India (Sid, Vinay and Gauri) landed a day early than usual with an intention of studying, but used up most of the time before opening dinner; either sleeping or roaming around CPH .Anyway there was not much expectation to set the house on fire with our academic brilliance.

With the weight of the exams on everyone’s mind, we had a very somber opening dinner, there was no party at the basement (the venue for the night long parties).Next day people were up and awake and present at the restaurant at 7 am (something unheard of, since during the normal days, people sleepwalk in to the restaurant at 7.57, grab a handful of food and juice and make a dash to the classes). Exams were okay, not too difficult, not too easy and people were just waiting for the 2 days to get over before getting back to the normal module schedules – day long classes, night long parties aka networking.

The only thing I remember about the exams now are the triple ply paper on which we have to write. So after finishing writing down the answers we had to tear the three sheets and put them in the correct colored envelopes and submit them. In one the exams I was at my creative best and so ended up writing 33 pages. So imagine my plight tearing out the papers one after the other, this was more painful than writing those 33 pages.

The exams flew past us and then things were back on normal tracks. The first party night was a blast and subsequently every night some activity or the other was planned thanks to the fabulous activity manager – William. We had the usual suspects with regard to activities as in a bowling nite, karaoke nite et all but also we had jeopardy, bingo, flip cup, movie nite and much more. The best party had to be the Latino party with Ricardo and group throwing a heady cocktail of music, drinks and ambience to rock the place.

The classes were surprisingly not that interesting. Most of the subject being taught did not have any exams later, so people were not that interested and also most of them were just presentations and mostly academic. But there was no dearth of interesting people. Vincent – who calls himself (and is) the crazy Frenchman, Eyal – the Israeli with a great sense of humor, Tina – the Finn, who was the hands on module manager, Giovanni – the Italian whose long winding questions in class took 5 minutes to complete and put the teacher to sleep, and good ol Vinay from India, who was suffering from obsessive compulsive chocolate eating disorder.

During the modules huge emphasis is laid on networking, to use the 2 weeks and get to know as many people as possible. For me this was the best module on the networking aspect. People previously viewed as co inhabitants at the centre were now good friends. There was less of artificial surface talk and more of good natured banter and bonhomie. The USP of this program is undoubtedly the chance it gives to all of us to make friends with people across the world and it was heartening to see that most of us grabbed the opportunity with glee.

The closing dinner arrived and it was time to say good bye to Karlsunde, the sleepy suburb which was our home for 2 weeks once every 6 months for the last year and a half. The Karslunde food was never great; the weather has most of us in knots always, but as our coach said the people, the time spent together and the resulting memories makes this place unforgettable. Our program has one more module to go, but not at this idyllic suburb. There was a tinge of disappointment inside everybody at the fact that the Karslunde days are over. All good things have to come to an end and as a friend said, it’s better if it comes to an end when it is still good. It was good, it is over. God Bless

Next day we were back on the flight heading home to Mumbai, with loads of great memories and sad that the module was over. Now here I am in the familiar environs of the Shared service centre, penning down this and wishing I was back in Karslunde.

The views and theories of Sid.....

This blog is about my friend Sid ( the one without the blazer in the photo) and his questions /ideas/ theories / fantasies or whatever that u may call them. Much like most of us, Sid also has views on everything and has a theory on every other thing. So I decided that these theories have to be documented and saved for posterity, lest they get lost over the sands of time.

The Great Idly idea.

Idlys, for the uninitiated is a very famous south Indian breakfast. It is a much beloved and harmless little dish and always round shaped. One day as we were driving down to office, I casually mentioned to Sid about having idlys for breakfast. He suddenly had a brainwave and started questioning the fact that why idlys always have to be round. They are prepared by means of a round mould and Sid said why anybody didn’t think of making moulds in other shapes. He proposed moulds to be made in the shape of cartoon characters to make the idlys more attractive to children and unleash a marketing blitzkrieg to compete with the likes of the McDonalds and stuff. A pokemon idly and a Scooby idly could give stiff competition to Kellogg and other MNC breakfasts. This brain wave stemmed from the fact that as a child he absolutely hated the round shaped idlys and used to fling them outta the window whenever he was served them and pretend to having eaten them. If only they had ‘He- Man idlys’ or ‘Superman idlys’ during the mid- and late eighties, lot many idlys could have been saved.

The International Date Line Fantasy:

While at office and having nothing to do (that is the case mostly), Sid was looking at the time tool and seeing what was the time across the world. The International Date Line caught his fancy and he says how it would be if the line was on land instead of on the Pacific Ocean. One could have one leg either side of the line and straddle two days at the same time. Or you could jump from here to there across the line and go from yesterday to today and back to yesterday. This jumping the line is his ultimate fantasy

Marriage and its impact on a mans social life

Before marriage

Time spent on social activities (clubbing, boozing, and partying) – x
Number of relatives – y
Time spent visiting relatives - f(y)

After marriage

Number of relatives – 2y
Time spent on visiting relatives doubles
Time spent on social activities – x/2

Conclusion: Marriage impacts man’s social activities drastically

Note: other factors not taken into account since Sid’s prime purpose was to vilify relatives

Man to Man behavior in the local train and otherwise

People in Mumbai are so dependent on the local trains that their day’s time table is linked to the train they have to catch in the morning to get to work. There would be a core group of people who one would be meeting everyday on the same train. As per Sid, the camaraderie between such regular fellow travelers while inside the train is as much as the one between a cat and a rat. They view each other with hate and spite and something like a smile or a hello never crosses their lips. However if two of them meet somewhere else, they would behave like bosom pals who know each other from kinder garden. And the very next day when they meet again on the train, they never utter a word and revert back to the rat/cat mode.

The vegetable riddle:

Sid asks, why is it that the most horrible vegetables, like say ladies finger (the dreaded bindi), bitter gourd and other such unspeakables are supposed to have the best nutrition and expected to do wonders to you.

Male bonding at the bathroom

According to this theory of Sid, a man has an urge to communicate and speak / smile / talk to the person next to him while at the bathroom and going through the task of answering natures first call. He says that people whom you meet often in the office but don’t speak to, have a high chance of saying a word or two to you while you are standing next to them in the washroom. So if one wants to network and get closer to the big bosses , the bathroom is the place to be.

These are just a few of the ideas that the fertile mind of Sidharth Iyer has come up with. The more he says more posts would be added..

Of Cold Calls and Credit Cards

Was sitting at office and was staring blankly into the 17inch ‘not so blank’ screen in front of me when my state of bliss was broken by a harsh ringing of the telephone at my neighbor’s desk. I Am reminded of this poet who compared a woman’s laughter to a telephone’s ringing. I would remain a bachelor all my life if all women laugh like that.

Coming back to the telephone, my neighbor was not at his desk, and that darned piece kept screaming on. With no option left, hauled myself out of my cozy chair and took the call. The lady on the other side as expected wanted to speak to my neighbor and when I told that he is not in his seat , she said that would not be a problem and that I could help her. Thought this was some query about some Bill of lading, but soon, horrors of horrors realized that this was another of those “Are u interested in a free credit card” calls!!

Everyday there is at least one such unwanted crank call that I get. It mostly is for a credit card and on other occasions they have been for loans, additional SIM cards and the like. These calls bug me no end and there are a lot of reasons for them.

The person on the other end actually is mostly a female and in 9 out of 10 cases can’t speak proper English. They hit the vernacular highway right away and speak in such a chaste tone that u start wondering if the roadside hawkers have opted for a career change. And if they do speak EnglishIf they do speak, they try to put on a coy sort of tone and speak like some pre teen girl talking to her Barbie doll while staring at the stars.

They don’t seem to keep track of the people they call and the responses given. I am sure it’s the same female who calls me every week and so very sweetly says that I could do with another SIM card. But they don’t seem to take note that every week I give the same reply which certainly is not – call me next week – but a big NO.

They call from anywhere: I initially had thought that these people used to sit in offices and fire away. But many a time now, I ve heard in the background , among other thing, babies crying, rattling of trains, cars honking , a sound very suspiciously similar to a pressure cooker letting off steam and heavens be damned- the opening lines of the title track of a TV soap. Guess these people are temps who are given a sack load of phone numbers and asked to make cold calls whenever they want. Just meet the damned target and that’s all.

That brings up the question, from where do they get the phone numbers?? Even mobile numbers are not spared. I changed by mobile phone number many months back and had not even informed all my friends about the new number, but I get a call for a new credit card. The only source I can see having given out the number is the mobile service provider from whom I got the number in the first place. And I think even the banks with whom I deal with are also culprits. I remember giving my office landline number to my bank only and then within a week get a call for, what else, an extra credit card. But, strangely the person speaking to me was offering a rival banks loan scheme.

The only advantages of such calls are when u in the middle of a useless team meeting or in grave danger of dozing off post lunch. You could help yourself to a much needed break thanks to the squeaky voiced female on the pone offering you yet another credit

Its now 2 o clock so far the day has progressed without any such calls. Must be my lucky day.

Inspired by IQBAL

After a long time saw a movie within a day of it being released. (Not after Matrix revolutions on its worldwide release I think) .so thought of being an opinion maker this time around. But still it took me 3 days to pen this down or rather key this down.

This movie was Iqbal - and my word what a fantabulous movie this one is... amazing... perhaps the best of the year.better than Black or Sarkar.

This is one of those rare underdog movies, a genre we have almost forgotten, was Lagaan the last one?? All that we get to see nowadays are ‘factory’ assembled movies or skin flicks/ sex comedies or movies which try to show off as being 'different', but ends being so very mediocre. Amidst all this Iqbal is a genuine tale, which is realistic, natural and different without being conscious about it.

The hero is disabled, but no over the top emotions. No scenes of he being taunted, tortured, made to cry over his disability. You see him being well fed , being lazy to work , dreaming away to glory and shrieking away from the drudgery of everyday monotony, while at the same time not averse to working hard to realize his dream.. Someone u and me can relate to. That he is disabled is almost footnote.

The performances are in a league of their own. We don’t have any marquee names – (though Naseruddin Shah's name itself lends some sort of credibility to the venture) not even established character artistes but each of them have lived their role to almost perfection.

There is humor through out the movie which flows naturally out of the situation and is not forced. Thankfully the disability of the person is not exploited to create a few guffaws – how many times have we seen a deaf person being the centre of a comic interlude?

The director has taken care of very minute details as well. You see Iqbal’s sister wearing the set of clothes that is shown being presented to her by a relative a few reels back, when they are going for Ranji trophy selection. Don’t we all like to wear the latest new set of clothes when going for an important event ??

As the makers claim, this truly is a story above cricket. It’s about overcoming obstacles and disability to reach for your goals and it holds universal appeal. Nagesh Kuknoor uses cricket as a metaphor to tell the story. A truly commendable effort.

Finally, if all this is not enough to make one watch the movie, please note that there is no Amitabh Bachan in the movie. That could be reason enough to catch up on this flick, since nowadays every movie seems to cast him or use him in one way or the other.

Would have been blogs..........

It took me three months and more to complete those travel blogs about the post module trip. My blog site now looks like a travelogue more than anything else. . The fact that one doesn’t find enough time during office hours to blog is the biggest factor.

So what all did I miss out on these months , or rather what were the things that I would have written about if not for being occupied with writing about the European trip. So here are a list of events/ happenings over the past 3 months that I would have blogged on.

The reds renaissance : This has got noting to with communism , am referring to that amazing , unbelievable night in Istanbul ,when Liverpool came back from three goals down to beat AC Milan in the champions league final. All the thanks to my friend who woke me up during the second half , knowing fully well that id have hit the sack during half time ,disappointed, having seen Liverpool go three goals down. If not for her call, I would have missed witnessing history.

My birthday: Yup, I was after all cutting a birthday cake for the third (or is it second) time in my life. It was a working day and there was a small party planned at a friends place. Just a few of my colleagues, some food and drinks and that would be it. My friends had brought a cake and after ages I was cutting a cake with people singing the happy birthday song. It was perhaps the best birthday that I have had for a long long time. All due to my rocking colleagues... Thanks guys and gals ….

Badminton /football /bowling: The sports bug seems to have bitten me and my friends here. I ve started going to a club to play badminton , a friend convinced me to travel half way across Mumbai on a Sunday morning to play football and going bowling is a regular affair nowadays.

Trekking: Went trekking up the hills of Matheran (about 100 kms from Mumbai) with my colleagues. Starting the trek at about 3 in the night, we reached the top after 4 hours of tiring, back breaking walk. It was such a tiresome exercise that we were left with little energy to further roam around the hills. The early morning view of the monsoon fed sprawling hills would be a long living memory.


The Mumbai Paper Wars: For long the turf of Times of India, the Mumbai newspaper market is seeing a major shakeout. Hindustan Times launched its Mumbai edition a week back and there is DNA – Daily News and Analysis slated for release July 30, Times of India launched the Mumbai Mirror as a direct competitor to Mid-day in the tabloid market.

All the publications let loose so much advertising, that it was almost choking you. One could not travel a few metres on the road without noticing a DNA ad. DNA has flooded every railway station, road junction, flyover and what not with its posters. The teaser campaign began months back, followed by a survey, then came the bookings open phase and finally is launching this month end. HT was also all over the place, even placing an ad about its launch in TOI. HT looks better than the tabloidesque Times, Mumbai mirror is just a replica of Mid- day. Waiting for DNA to see how different it is.

And there a few topics I would not have written on which include Potter mania( I like him), the new Indian cricket coach( I don’t care), the never ending reality shows (I hate them)…..

Europe Trip: Day 8, The last leg.

After the disaster, that was the previous day, we were hoping and praying that we don’t face anymore hurdles on our way to Paris.

We had spent the night in Milan airport, we couldn’t get to sleep much, since the seats were not comfortable enough for a supine posture and also with the luggage and bags that we had, one couldn’t afford to sleep like a log. We woke up early, since we had to catch the 5.30 am shuttle bus to the Railway station, from where we had to take the 7.10 am train to Paris.

We reached the station and promptly went to the ticket counter. Our hearts sank when the lady at the counter said that the train was full and no reservations were available. It was like an action replay of the previous day. She further said that being some holiday season and the weekend all trains were full. But then she said that we could get into the train, speak to the ticket collector and try our luck. We did not have much choice, and even if the lady had not given this suggestion, this is what we would probably have done.

We got into a compartment, loitered around the door for some time and then spoke to the ticket collector. He asked us to sit on any of the free seats that we could get. We would have to pay for reservations and we could sit as long as the valid reservation holder didn’t come. We managed to find seats for all of us, albeit in different parts of the same compartment. We hadn’t slept well the previous night and were hoping that no one turns up staking a claim for the seat.

Thankfully through out the whole journey we were not troubled. Actually the reservation holders of a couple of our seats did come, but when they saw us sitting, they just went away and sat on another empty seat. In fact one person on whose seat I was sitting was seen standing by the door instead of asking me to vacate. Either he did not understand me, when I said that I would vacate the seat for him, or he is a gentleman of the first order or a total fool.

We reached Paris Gare du Nord station around 3 in the evening. We had a full evening and night ahead of us before our flight the next day morning. But after the ordeal, no one was in the mood to go out into the city again, all that we wanted to get to the airport. We had food at a Turkish restaurant – the spiciest food of the whole trip- and then got into a metro to the airport. I have to mention about the nice American couple we met in the metro. They were a delight to talk to and very very friendly, which perhaps reinforced my belief that Americans are one among the friendliest people around.

We reached the airport, got our tickets confirmed for the next day and proceeded towards the terminal where our flight would be scheduled the next day. We had another night to kill, this time in a different airport. This night also turned out to be as uncomfortable and sleepless as the previous night. We hardly slept for an hour or so and also were getting very tired. Plus we had not had a bath for 2 days now and we had another day before we could reach home and change. Not a pretty feeling I would say.

After 2 days of missed buses /trains and flights, and spending 2 nights in airports, finally on the 25th morning, we boarded our flight for Mumbai. We were hungry / tired/ sleepy / broke and dirty. The aim was to gobble up as much food as possible initially and sleep for the entire trip. But this didn’t happen. We did gobble up food, but the in-flight movies were simply too good to be missed. I watched Ray, Finding Neverland and Meet the fockers , in effect giving up some precious sleep but feeling highly satisfied having watched them.

We touched down at Mumbai around 10 pm. It was the end of a long trip .23 days including the module and the Europe trip. It was a highly satisfying and exciting experience. Something which all of us had never been through before... I consider myself immensely lucky to have visited all those beautiful cities, to have been in a company of such great friends who made the trip even more enjoyable and memorable ….

At the same time towards the end with all those troubles we were desperate to get back home. It was hot, humid and we were sweating at 11 in the night, but it was feeling good.

Europe Trip Day 7 : The race against Time.

23 April 2005

Since for most of the day we were racing against time, I am putting up this day s events in a different format. Things were not hectic in the beginning, as I said, we had to catch the 10 am train from Roma termini (which was the only train from Rome to Paris), for us to reach Paris in time to catch the flight to Mumbai the next day.

8 am: the first Shuttle bus from hostel to the Prima Porta station, we miss it, since a few of us were late to get ready and reach the gate. Set back by half an hour. Perhaps, an ominous sign of things to come.

8.30 am: Catch the shuttle bus to station. Reach Prima porta and are on our way to Rome.

9.20 am: Reach Roma Termini. About 40 minutes left for train to depart.

9.25 am: Reach reservations counter, only to find long queue which clearly would not clear in the half hour that we had.

9.45 am: Debate on whether to risk boarding the train without reservation or give the train a miss and somehow reach Milan by 4.15 pm – which is when the same train would depart to Rome, after an hour’s stoppage in Milan. Using that one hour buffer we had to some how reach Milan.

10am: The Eurostar train to Paris chugs out and we are stranded in Rome with the Option B of getting to Milan.

10.25am: Intercity express to Venice. We board it, the plan was to get down at Florence and from there get the next avail train to Milan which as per the timetable would reach at 4pm, giving us 15 minutes for the Paris train.

10.30 am: We get out of the intercity seconds before it departs since there is no place to even stand in it.

10.50 am: Board a Eurostar train to Venice, with the same plan as above, but our hopes of catching the 4.15 train are fast diminishing. This train also required reservation, but we didn’t take it, since Florence was the next station after Rome and even if they throw us out they could do that only in Florence.

11 to 12.30: The Eurostar is also full and we don’t get seats. We travel alternatively standing and sitting by the door, looking more like refugees than tourists. (The pic shows our plight , true, shubada was slightly overacting ,but that was to sum up our feelings)The Ticket collector is kind enough to understand our plight and doesn’t charge us for the non reservation travel.

12.45 pm: Alight at Florence station. We have already used up the one hour buffer and there was no hope that we would catch the 4.15 train from Milan. The next task was to somehow get to Paris by next day morning before 10 am to catch the flight.

12.45 To 1.15 pm: Roam around the vicinity of the station looking for Eurolines buses which could take us to Milan / Paris. Search ends in vain as we do not find any with convenient timings. The buses leave in the evening and won’t reach Paris in time. We also looked out for Ryan air / Easy jet options, but do not get any lead.

1.30 pm: Get back to the station and decide to take the Intercity to Milan, which would reach by 6.30 pm. The Paris flight was looking increasingly far away.

6.30 pm: Reach Milan central. The next train to Paris is at midnight, which was ruled out. We once again looked for buses / cheap airlines. We made enquiries at the station, but of no avail. Get a contact of a nearby Eurolines bus station.

7pm: Take the Milan metro train and go to the Eurolines bus stop. The bus to Paris had left at 4 pm.

7.30 pm: Reach back to Milan central. It was decision making time. The flight was as good as gone, but we still were booked on it. Have to cancel it and rebook it for the next day. And for that we need to call them.

7.30 to 7.45pm: All efforts of trying to call Air France go in vain. Only option left to us was to go to the Milan airport and hope that it had an Air France booking office. The trouble was that Milan had 2 airports, located in diametrically opposite ends of the city and we had no idea Air France served which airport.

8pm: Board the shuttle bus from Milan station to Malpensa airport. A blind and costly gamble since the trip costs a good 20 euros and if Air France did not have an office we would be wasting time and money. People were getting increasingly frustrated and nervous. Luckily no one had broken down so far.

8 to 9 pm: The bus takes what looks like an eternity to reach Malpensa. Obviously the airport is located very far away from the city and if the airport did not have the air France office we were positively screwed. We were also running low on money and a few of us had already exhausted their wallets.

9pm: reach malpensa airport, the terminal is mostly deserted. Thankfully we find an Air France office which was to close in 15 minutes time. This was the first lucky break for us the whole day, where otherwise every plan of ours had been thwarted.

9.45 pm: After weighing a few options, including insane ones like flying to Paris by paying 200 euros or taking a cab to Paris for 1100 euros, we decide to cancel our next day tickets and rebook ourselves for the Monday morning flight.

10pm: Decide to spend the night at the airport itself. We were short on money and had no clue where to get ourselves a place for the night. It didn’t seem wise to go out so late in the night and then search. There would a shuttle bus leaving next day morning to Milan station.

10.30 pm: the end of an extraordinary and physically and mentally exhausting day. What began as a normal day ended as one of the most unforgettable days of ours lives. Constantly racing against time, we were defeated time and again and ended up giving up hope of catching our flight. Here we were in Milan airport, going to spend a night, hoping that we do not miss any trains or buses the next day. We did not have a flight to catch from Milan, nor did we alight from a flight at Milan, but we were spending a night there. A strange end to a strange day.

Europe Trip - Day 6, Rome

Day 6: 22 April 2005

We had a long day ahead of us and the idea was to cover as much as possible in a day. It was impossible to cover 3000 years of history in a day, but that’s how it was to be.

Our first stop was the Colosseum, but of course. Perhaps the first image that comes to mind when the name Rome is mentioned. All of us had heard of the legend of the colosseum, about the gladiators and the bloody duels this historical place was witness to. And the many movies, books and even cartoons had furthered our interest in the colosseum. Here was a place which was a witness to a reckless sport, an inhuman barbarian game amidst the most advanced of civilizations of that era. The sight of the half destroyed monument was itself awe inspiring.

Over the years the colosseum had slowly disintegrated with restoration works being taken up only a century ago. We were listening to a guide who with her broken English was making an earnest effort to enlighten us on the history of the place. The 4 tier seating arrangements, the entry point for the gladiators, the gates through which the dead were taken away, the underground chambers all were for us to see. Surprisingly the arena, where the duels happened, was quite small in diameter. Maybe it was because we had imagined it to be real big after having seen movies like the Gladiator. The only flip side was the pot bellied 50 something urchins dressed up as gladiators and offering themselves to be photographed with for a euro or two. They were giving the legend of gladiators a bad name.

From the colosseum we walked up to the Palantine Hill, one of the 7 hills, which gives the city its epitaph. The Palantine hill overlooking the colosseum once housed the senators and other important functionaries of the Roman Empire. The Hill also gives you a panoramic view of the Roman forum which is a vast stretch of ruins dating to the golden age of the Roman Empire One could walk through it gazing at its half destroyed temples and buildings.

Unlike Paris, where we had taken the Hip hop bus, we decided to cover the city by foot. For there were monuments and churches on every street and also the best way to cover a city was by foot. From the forum we walked to the Venezia palace which towers above the surroundings. The palace was easily the most majestic of all the buildings that we had seen so far. The palace was giant in scale with even the fountain at the entrance dwarfing us by a considerable margin. This palace also houses the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

From there we walked to the pantheon, the 8th century temple (or was it a temple, I am not sure) which is famous for its special architecture. Infact my architect room mate was telling me that drawing the pantheon was something that every architecture grad would have done in college. We did not spend much time there and walked towards the famous Trevi fountain. As we were walking through the various lanes/bylanes and roads what struck us was the sheer number of historical buildings and monuments we saw in every street. That the city has a long history was well known, now we were seeing it. The trevi fountain is famous for being a ‘wishing well’. Everybody who comes there throws a coin or 2 into the small well formed at the base of the fountain and make a wish. The coins are thrown facing away from the fountain and across. Meaning, hold the coin in your right hand and throw it over your left shoulder. Now we were already on a tight budget, and no one was prepared to throw away a euro. So out went the 1 and 2 rupee coins and with it the wishes of we 6 Indians.

The next stop was the Vatican City. We were going to the Vatican just 2 days after the new Pope had been announced. We were feeling excited to be there at such a historically important phase. But our fear was that the place would be too crowded. Thankfully it was not as crowded as we thought it would be.

We got down at the St.Peters Metro station and walked towards the Vatican. We entered into the huge courtyard in front of the St.Peters Bascilica.This place had witnessed the funeral of the late Pope John Paul II only a few days back. The chairs and the arrangements made were intact, for the inaugural mass of the new Pope Benedict XVI was scheduled for the next day. The courtyard is a huge circle with a fountain in the middle. There are giant corridors along the semi circle on either side. People are routed in through this past a security check and proceed towards the Bascilica.

As we moved in near to the main entrance, there were 2 Qs formed in front of us. One of them was for the main entrance and the other was to the tomb of Pope John Paul II. Since we did not have time we had to choose between either of the 2, we chose to get into the church since the Q was smaller for that.
It was exciting to be entering into one of the holiest of shrines of Christianity, the seat of Roman Catholicism. As we entered, to our right side was the ‘Pieta’, the celebrated sculpture by Michelangelo. This stunningly graceful work shows the grieving Mother Mary cradling the dead Christ in her lap. We were captivated by the work and were amazed to see that Michelangelo completed this when he was only 23.

From there we moved further inside towards the altar, where a mass was being held. We attended it, and then later roamed inside the huge hall. There were lots of arresting statues and sculptures inside. After spending a considerable length of time inside the massive St.Peters Basilica we stepped out, did some souvenir hunting and later took the train back to our hostel.

We had a train to catch the next day, a longish one, straight from Rome to Paris, reaching Paris at around 11 in the night and the day after was the return flight to India.
But things didn’t work out as simply as we thought they would …

Europe Trip- Day 5, Venice to Rome

Day 5 was mostly spent on traveling. We had a morning train to catch from Venice to Rome. This was a Eurostar train and hence a reservation (R) was compulsory. Even though we had the Eurail passes, to get into one of these R marked trains, one has to shell a few euros more. In this case it was a substantial 12 euros per person. The train was comfortable but shockingly sparse. We were wondering why on earth we had to get reservations for such an empty train, but we didn’t have much of a choice.

Our initial plan was to visit Florence on the way to Rome, but then decided against it, since we were not sure of the train timings and we did not want to land up in Rome in a very unearthly hour. We did touch the city on the way, but all that we saw was the railway station and whatever we could see from inside the train. It was sad missing what many call one of the most beautiful cities of the world. But we were on a tight schedule and a tighter budget.

We reached Rome in the evening. The Roma Termini was a bustling and modern railway terminus. It was crowded and noisy. Felt like being in a train terminus in India. We had to choose between hauling our backpacks with us and going for a tour of the city or retire to our campsite for some rest. We decided on the latter. The camp site was located in the suburb of Prima porta and initial enquiries told us that was pretty far away. Unlike Paris, which has like 8 metro lines, Rome has only 2 and a glance at the map revealed that we had to use both of them to reach our campsite.

Before departing to the campsite, we had food at a restaurant outside the station. The waiter was a Bangladeshi. I think I have failed to mention this before but we came across Bangladeshis in both Paris and Venice. And not just once, they were present in every place we visited. Most of them were street vendors or shop owners. Since we had two people knowing Bengali in Ruchika and Kamal , we never had a problem communicating with them and in the process driving a hard bargain. We also came across Indians here and there, but mostly as tourists or office goers /students.

After having lunch we walked to the Roma Termini underground Metro station and we were in for a shock. The scene resembled a peak hour Mumbai suburban station. There was a huge crowd and the train that came in was choke a block. Also the trains were old, painted with graffiti and also small. There was no way we could get into one of them. So we had to miss a couple of trains before catching one. I never imagined that in some European city I would miss a train for being crowded, especially since I am living in Mumbai and used to getting into trains where seemingly air also can’t enter.

We changed trains at the Fluminio station and took the over ground suburban train to Prima porta. The metro train as well as this one was small in size with a pair of seats on either side of the narrow aisle. Most of the metro trains in Paris were also small. Thankfully they need not take the kind of traffic the suburban trains in Mumbai take.

We reached Prima Porta after a 30 minute ride. We had to wait for sometime for the pick up bus from the hostel. The good thing about these European hostels is that, even though they are located far away from the cities, they have pick up buses running to the nearest station. The campsite at the outset looked better and more comfortable than the Venice one. The rooms were basically trailer vans and the whole place resembled one of those trailer parks.

After freshening up, we hit the campsite restaurant and helped ourselves to some delicious pasta. We were ready to explore the eternal city the next day

Europe Trip- Day 4 , Venice

Day 4: 20 April 2005

We woke up to be greeted by a gloomy and overcast sky which threatened lots of rain. In fact it had rained the previous night as well. Not at all the kind of weather one would want while on tour. Nevertheless, we got into the shuttle bus from the campsite to the City. We brought a city map and also a day long pass which enables us to take as many trips as we want on the city’s water taxis. We got into a taxi from the Ferrovia taxi stop which is the one opposite to the railway station. Since we were not much aware of any famous landmarks in Venice, we asked a cop, and he suggested we start from St.Marco.

Sitting in the boat, one couldn’t help but get amazed again at the sight of the canals and the city built around it. Much like we have major roads and small lanes branching out of it, here you have the Canal Grande and smaller canals flowing out of them. Apart from the water taxis which are the public transport, there are private boats, gondolas and also company boats. I saw a DHL boat cruising around delivering cargo.

St Marco was 15 minutes away and was very crowded. By this time it had started to rain as well. But rain or shine, it has no effect on tourists and there were a lot many of them there. We came across a large group of Indians, who were finding it difficult to listen to their guide while at the same time dodge the rain and not get wet. We learnt that they were from Australia, all of them, and had come on a tour to Italy.

St Marco has the huge Doge’s palace, a church and also a tall tower atop which you have a viewing platform which would give a panoramic view of the city.

Doges, we learnt were the rulers of Venice for many centuries. The palace was pretty huge, it had a museum, a prison, the living rooms, and many other rooms and galleries. After having seen the Louvre, this museum did not interest us much. Also this museum had more of artifacts like pillars and sculptures rather than eye catching paintings.

We entertained hopes of getting into a gondola and going for a ride, but the cost was prohibitive. Somewhere around 50 euros for a trip, that was not affordable at all. We had to be satisfied with the water taxis.

We also had perhaps one of the funniest moments of the tour as we were waiting in the Q to get into the palace. The rain was beating down heavily and none of us had any umbrellas or raincoats. Sid and Kamal decided that the only resort was to pray to the lord. So there, under a steady drizzle, standing in a Q surrounded by many and with many more walking past, they both decided to sing a bhajan pleading to God to let sunshine in.
Heads turned, people stopped and stared while the rest of us couldn’t stop laughing. The Bhajan went on for some time. But believe me you, as we walked out of the palace after couple of hours, the rain was gone and it didn’t trouble us for the rest of the day.

Most of the buildings in Venice look pretty old, especially the ones by the canals and the city is also full of tourists all year round. Hence most of the industrial establishments and offices have moved out to the nearby town of Mestre which is linked to Venice by a highway and a rail line. Mestre is the station we touched last before entering Venice on the train from Milan. Another primarily residential location is the island of Lido, which was where we went next.

Lido is about 20 minutes from St.Marco and to reach there the boat comes out of the canals and enters the Adriatic Sea and travels in the direction opposite to the main body of the Venetian islands. We got down and immediately we were struck by the stark difference between Venice and Lido. The island was modern with beautiful houses, tree lined streets, well maintained roads, hotels and shops. The streets had Porsches, Audis and the like parked on them. This was a world away from the hustle and bustle of Venice. This I guessed was the home for the rich and famous. We learnt that the annual Venice film festival was held in Lido.

The sun had started shining by the time we reached Lido. We had lunch in one of the restaurants there and then walked to the Lido beach. It was sparse, almost empty. The gloomy weather in the morning would have put off everybody. But am sure in summer this beach would rock. We strolled around for sometime, and had perhaps the best ice cream of the tour in one of the shops in Lido. After that we took a taxi back to Venice.
We also wanted to check out another island, where as per Ruchika a famous glass factory is situated, but we were told that it would have closed down by 5 pm and hence we dropped the idea. Instead we went for a longish boat ride, a circular ride starting from Ferrovia, through all the stops and coming back to Ferrovia. We covered the outer islands, the port and the cruise dock where a couple of giant cruise ships were berthed.

We took the last shuttle bus back to the campsite. We still had a few instant food packets with us, so instead of checking out the restaurant we cooked food in our cabin.

Take away the canals and maybe Venice has got nothing much to offer. True it has churches and museums, but the uniqueness is in the canals and how the city is built around it. Venice is definitely a must see…

Europe Trip - Day 3, Paris to Venice

Day 3: 19 April 2005

This day was spent mostly on travel. We had a train to catch from the Paris gare du Lyon terminal to Milan, en route to Venice. We had taken our Eurail passes from India itself, the pass that we had taken was a 2 country (France – Italy) one valid for 2 months. But you could use the pass on 4 calendar days only. This being the first day of the pass we had to get it validated from the ticket counter, by showing our passports.

Our train was at 8 am and we got our passes endorsed half an hour before. Luckily there was no crowd at the counters; otherwise we would have been in trouble since this was another huge station. Our train was one of those high speed TGV trains. I was always a train enthusiast and was really looking forward to traveling in one of them. We got into our coach, settled into our seats and were looking at a long train journey ahead of us. We were scheduled to reach Milan at around 2 in the afternoon. The second class coach was done up ordinarily, all the basics and nothing special. Sid, who has traveled before on a first class cabin said that there was a huge difference between a first and second class cabin and that the first class ones were pure luxury.

The train pulled out Gare du Lyon and soon the French countryside was flying past us. Gone was the city and the graffiti and all its hustle and bustle, the countryside was beautiful with unending stretches of fields and little villages here and there. These TGVs are known to travel at speeds of more than 300 mph, but sitting inside we had no idea of the speed we were going at. There were a lot of small villages and their railway stations that we were rushing past and I felt kind of strange looking at them, for my mental picture of Europe had always been the big cities and their landmarks and also images of the rich and famous. This was new and I was wondering how it would be to be able to spend some time in these villages.

As we were nearing the Italian border, we could see some mountain ranges (Alps maybe?) most of which were snow capped. For me it was the first sighting of snow in my life and I was getting excited about it. Most of us wanted to jump out and play in the snow. I’ve read and also have been told by many that any Europe trip is incomplete without a train journey. Now I realized why, I was getting to see miles and miles of beautiful scenery that was heavenly and topping that with mountain ranges filled with snow... Wow! And to think that this was not one of those picture perfect routes, like the Swiss or the Swedish routes.

We reached the Italian border, where the immigration officials made a quick check of our passports and we soon were on our way. The train stopped for a few minutes in the city of Turin, famous for the automobile company FIAT, the Juventus football club and also as the host of the next winter Olympics in 2006. We reached Milan by 3.30pm, a good hour and a half behind schedule. Never imagined that trains would run late in Europe, but guess maybe it was because we were in Italy.

Milan was just a stopover for us, we had not planned to see the city. It was a bit disappointing having to miss the San Siro but we did not have the time. We got down at Milano Centrale and had all of 10 minutes to catch the Inter city train to Venice. With baggage on our back and a huge crowd to dodge, we were on our foot running across platforms to reach the train on time. We got into the first coach and made our way through the compartments. This was an intercity train and by Eurail rules reservation was not compulsory. One may choose to reserve by paying a few euros more to be assured of a seat. We of course didn’t reserve (few euros more was the clincher) and for some time thought that it was a mistake. There was not a single seat vacant in the first few compartments that we passed by. The prospect of spending 3 hours on the corridors perched on our bags/suitcases did not enthuse us much. Luckily the later coaches were empty and we settled into a coupe.

The 3 and half hour journey to Venice was full of fun. We played that age old game of Antakshari which I believe has always been played whenever a group of youngsters are traveling/touring. Even with my little knowledge of Hindi songs I managed to pitch in here and there.

We reached Venice at half past 7. Known as the city of canals Venice is also hailed as one of the most beautiful cities in the world .But even the knowledge about the canals had not prepared me for the sight that I was to see as I stepped out of the railway station. Come down the steps and about 25 meters ahead, there was, not a road with taxis and buses, but a waterway with water taxis and passenger boats. That, for me was one of the most awesome moments of the tour. This canal, we learnt was the Canal Grande, the arterial canal which winds its way across the island city. There are only 3 bridges across this canal and one of them is the one we took as we crossed over to the other side.

We had booked ourselves into a campsite located outside the city limits. Camps came at a cheaper price and also were comfortable since they offered shuttle services to the city. We walked to the bus stand and got into our shuttle bus. And yes Venice does have roads. I had once imagined that the city would not have any roads, but there are highways which connect it to the Italian Mainland.

We checked into the campsite, and helped ourselves to a satisfying dinner, thanks to the discounted food coupon the camp provided us. We had Pizzas – but of course, we were in Italy.

Europe Trip - Day 2 , Paris

Day 2 : 18 April 2005

Started the day at the Champs Elysees. Ruchika wanted to buy a digital cam and taking Sid along out she went camera hunting. She took what felt like an eternity, while the rest of us sauntered about the place. The office of Publicis was located nearby and it looked magnificent with the huge Paris 2012 logo lighted up across its face. Infact this logo is visible where ever you go in Paris. Almost every major building including the Eiffel tower sports the logo. The fight for hosting the 2012 Olympics is between Madrid, London, New York, Moscow and Paris. That’s some list.

Ruchika meanwhile was still hunting, and Shubada looked as if she would mount a horse and gallop away to hunt down her. Finally the lady returned with a prized Sony 5 mega pixel digital cam .A pretty neat buy I would say.

From there we got onto the now familiar red hip hop bus and were on our way towards louvre. Again we passed through many landmarks, including the tunnel where Lady Diana was killed, the Invalides, the Military school, Tuileries etc.

Maybe it is the effect of reading the Da Vinci code but all of us were very much interested in visiting the Louvre. We got down by the Seine and walked our way into the building. I think the building must have been some palace, it was so huge. The glass pyramid was the centerpiece in the courtyard and we spent a lot of time walking along the perimeter of the buildings and the pyramids. We then took the staircase that takes us to the foyer below the pyramid, which houses the lobby and the ticket counters. Like most other tourists we were interested in watching the grand gallery (now more famous as the place where Jacques sauniere was killed) and of course the Mona Lisa. We purchased the tickets and got into the Denon wing. After climbing a few stairs and past many paintings and sculptures we entered the grand gallery. I was never a person who was interested in paintings and works of art, but I couldn’t help but get awestruck by the masterpieces that dotted the gallery. The paintings were almost life like. I kicked myself for not having done some research about the artists whose works were on display.

After having walked past innumerable masterpieces we entered the most famous room in the Louvre, the one in which the lady resides. Perhaps the most reproduced face in the world; the real painting looked small and vulnerable. We also chanced upon another masterpiece made known to us by Dan brown- Madonna on the rocks. We had seen just one gallery in just one of the wings of the museum; it would take days for a complete tour of the building. Also saw l’pyramide inversee, another work made famous by the Da Vinci code.

By the time we had come out it was afternoon. We walked towards the chatelet shopping district. Maybe we were on the wrong road or place, but I did not find the place very interesting .There were shops all right but nothing special to write home about.

Then once again we took the hip hop bus and got down at the Trocadero and walked the long pathway towards the Eiffel tower, at every step, drinking in the marvel of engineering that was standing in front of us. This time we were well in time to get the tickets to go to the top. Though we toyed with the idea of climbing up, better sense prevailed and we decided to take the elevator. There are 3 stages en route to the top. One has to change elevators at the second level. There are souvenir shops and also restaurants in these 2 stages. We stepped out of the elevator into a circular observation room on the third stage where the distances from that point to all the major cities of the world are given and of course you could have a great view of the city.

From this room we had to climb us a small staircase to reach the topmost level of the tower. The time was around 9 pm, the chilly winds were biting into our faces like thorns. At this level you have the refurbished office of Gustav Eiffel with real life models of the architect and his wife. The view from above was simply breath taking; the city of lights was decked up in all its glory. We could see the Seine winding along the city with illuminated boats lazily cruising on them, the various bridges across them, the circle around the Champs Elysees, the Notre Dame and Sacrecour in the far distance, and all the major landmarks of the city We spent a considerable amount of time walking around the place, one did not want to get back to ground level.

With great reluctance we got back to the hostel. The next day we had the train to Italy and so this would be the last day in Paris. We had spent just 2 days here; it was almost a crime –allocating only a couple of days to this capital of the world. Each one of us were so captivated and enthralled by the sights and sounds of Paris , that am sure all of us would want to return for more.

Europe Trip- Day 1,Paris.

Day 1: 17 April 2005

With the two weeks of module behind us, we set out for the long anticipated and long planned tour. The flight out of Copenhagen was at 7 am. We reached Paris Charles de Gaulle at around half past nine on Sunday the 17th of April. We had booked hostels from India over the internet in addition to taking the Eurail passes. The first thing we had to do was to get hold of a Paris underground metro map and make sense of it. The metro system is huge and complex, but at the same time very effective. We had to change a couple of trains to reach the hostel (the airport, like many other airports was located far away from the city).

The initial feel of Paris was not that great. The outskirts were very dirty with graffiti, garbage etc everywhere. I felt like being in Mumbai. The first sign of being in a big city was when we reached the gare du nord railway station and had to catch a different route metro to reach barbes-roucherout. The station was so enormous with around 5 metro lines converging and also many high speed and TGV lines. It took us a while to get to the correct platform. But thanks to the directions and maps in every corner of the station and on the platforms, we did not get lost. Our hostel, Friends international, was located bang outside the Barbes –roucherout station. We had taken a 6 bed room which turned out to be pretty okay. One interesting thing that I noted about the hostels that apart from advertising amenities like internet, swimming pool , 24 hours check in and stuff they also display that they have English speaking staff.

The first place we went to was the Notre dame church. It was related to the hunch back of Notre dame I suppose, some one told me the story but it has escaped me now. Anyway, it was a beautiful church...the vibrations inside was great. This was the first of the many churches that we would be visiting during the tour. There is this open top tourist buses for which u get a 2 day pass for 22 euros and which takes u to all the major attractions of Paris. We got tickets for them and hopped aboard one of them. We were on the road which was running parallel to the seine, crossed it and reached the Champs Elysees, which is the most famous road in Paris.

The shops lined along either side of the Champs Elysees read like the who is who in the world of fashion and luxury. Also this is the place where the Tour De France ends, with the cyclists thundering down the avenue to make a grand finish in front of the Arc De Triomphe – another of Paris’ picture postcard monuments. The building was built by Napolean the Great to celebrate his military might. The Arc is at the centre of a huge roundabout around which roads lead in all the different directions. This makes for an amazing sight from the top of the structure. Another thing that one notices is that the Paris skyline doesn’t have any skyscrapers. All the buildings are max 7 floors... it is a policy and that has made the city even more beautiful...

From there we went to the Eiffel tower...by the time we reached it was around 8 pm and the sight of the tower all lighted up was just breathtaking... that picture will remain in my mind for ever. It looked as if it was made in gold. There are blinking lights placed all over the tower and those are activated every half an hour or so for a few minutes. That adds to the magic, and u would be seeing in front of you a 300 foot tall dazzling, glittering and seemingly gold tower. It’s a sight to behold. Since we were very late...we couldn’t climb up the top of the tower. But we had another day to go. While on the way back to the hostel chanced upon a building, it was the Paris Hilton. Looked pretty much simple, quiet, unassuming, and non controversial. Couldn’t help but think about its famous namesake as I retired for the day.

Module 2 - Apri 3 to 17, 2005

The keen followers of my blog site would have noticed that there have been no updates for a long time. The reason is that I had gone for my training session (module, the first of which is the subject for my first blog) in Denmark and followed that with a tour of Paris, Venice and Italy.

In this blog I would restrict myself to the second module. The tour would form subject for an entirely different blog.

I went into the first module with a lot of expectations and a lot of anxiety. All that I knew were stories that the seniors had told me and usually most of these were exaggerated ( naturally so) , like stories about Asians being ignored by the Europeans , about how the culture shock would be too much to bear and all that . But having been the first module and all the anxieties being laid to rest, I was eagerly looking forward to the next module- for one it would mean making many more friends , lots of fun and frolic and of course a welcome break from the drudgery of auditing bills in my office.

This time there were 6 of us Indians together and it was as good a team that I could ever dream of. We flew out to Copenhagen on the 3rd of April on an Air France flight via Paris. The flight was much better than the Lufthansa that I took last time. Each seat had an individual screen and a host of movies to choose from. Unlike the cramped Lufthansa, i found the seats to be comfortable as well. We touched down at the Charles De Gaulle Airport and had about four hours for the connecting flight to Copenhagen. We strolled about the mammoth Terminals and checked out the duty free shops. We reached CPH at about three in the afternoon and took a taxi - a big one that , it could take all 6 of us and the luggages as well. It felt great to be back at the comfortable settings of the Dansk FolkFerie, Karlsunde.( thats the name of our module centre)

The opening dinner was as usual the occasion where the proverbial ice was broken and the not so proverbial bottles were uncorked. It was time to meet up with old friends and also meet the new ones. We had ahead of us 2 weeks of long class room sessions, a day’s visit to the ship yard and of course the informal social activities and parties at the end of the day. The tuitions started with 2 days of Maritime law. The usually boring subject was made interesting thanks to the 2 lawyers who took the sessions. There was even a mock court trial to round of the tuition.

The visit to the Shipyard was eventful. It was the first time almost all of us were going to a ship yard and seeing the world’s biggest container ship being built was an awesome feeling. The same day night we had the cross culture dinner, where the trainees were split into teams based on their nationality/ geographical area and asked to prepare their traditional food. We had in our team seven Indians, two Bangladeshis and a girl from Mauritius. We prepared Vegetable Biryani, Butter Chicken, couple of side dishes, Kheer and Papads. Thanks to all the instant/ easy to make MTR packets that we carried beforehand the cooking was made easier. The dinner was a grand affair we had a global menu, ranging from the Caribbean to Chinese, from Arab to East Asian, from European to African. It was a treat to the gastric juices. I may sound immodest, but I have to say that the Indian food was widely accepted to be the best. Thanks to the girls and to Snehal – the only one among us guys to actually cook. Yours truly and the other guys in the team were, ahem, co-coordinating


One day we decided to hit town; so after having dinner, we took the train and set out to Copenhagen. The temperature outside was a very low 7 degrees (that IS very low, for a Chennai native like me) and I had never felt so much cold and numb. By the time we returned it was half past 12 and we had to walk a good 20 minutes in the cold from the station to the module centre. Am sure by this time the temp would have dropped further. It was absolutely insane, I couldn’t even speak and my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

Another insane thing that my colleagues came up with was the idea of going for a jog after classes and food, at around 8 in the night. Though initially I was all enthusiastic about it, once I stepped out I developed cold feet. It was due to...well... the cold. Coming to think of it I would say that I developed cold feet, cold ankles... right up to my head.

The classroom sessions were there daily and this time there were quite a few interesting classes. Liner trade and Terminal Management, for e.g., were real good sessions

Our activity manager – a slightly over enthusiastic but lovable chap from Cameroon worked real hard to arrange for activities for the group every night. As a result of his efforts, we had a night of Dance classes (salsa, disco et all), a night of aerobics, a trip to the bowling centre, a quiz nite etc, each of which was immensely enjoyable and fun filled.

The module ended with the closing dinner which was a multi course dinner which was agonizingly long and painfully distasteful. The good thing about this dinner night was the fact that all the girls had dressed up in their very best and looked beautiful. We guys had a tough time running around them and getting ourselves photographed with the lovely ladies. After the closing dinner was the final party, which was absolutely rocking.

With a heavy heart and a heavier head (well with a party till 3 am what else you expect) we said goodbyes to all the friends and left the module centre in the early hours of Sunday April 17th. Our destination was Paris and we were looking forward to a week long sojourn covering Paris, Rome and Venice…..

Visa Diplomacy

Two weeks ago the Indian government issued 10000 visas to Pakistani cricket fans to enable them to come to India and support their team. It was a great gesture which not only took forward the peace initiative but also paved the way for greater people to people contact which is most vital for the fostering peace and friendship. This was considered to be a reciprocal gesture to Pakistan issuing visa’s to Indian fans last year. Cricket and visa diplomacy at its best.

Now another issue has cropped up which also deals with visa and diplomacy. But this issue may is not as pleasant as the first one. One tiny group of lobbyists going by the name of coalition against genocide have perhaps wrought in the most humiliating insult that a seasoned politician like Mr.Narendra Modi would have faced in his career. I am referring to the contentious issue of the USA denying him a visa and going further in revoking his business visa

This coalition, having members on both the countries and more had done their homework thoroughly. They convinced a US congressman that Mr.Modi by virtue of his actions; or rather inaction during the Gujarat riots of 2002 had violated a US law and hence cannot enter the country. The congressman then took the mantle and drafted a letter to the authorities pointing out the crimes attributed to Modi during the riots and how it violated the rights to religious freedom act. Acting on it, the visa was refused. Putting in not so subtle terms, as per US law, Narendra Modi is a criminal. A criminal who presided over a genocide, who had the power to stop it, but who did nothing, who in fact abetted it. While I have no sympathies for Modi and am happy that he was insulted in such a manner, at the same time I am awestruck by the power and reach of democracy in the US. We proclaim ourselves to be the torch bearers of democracy, but all that is on paper. The same Narendra Modi won elections riding a wave fuelled by the riots. Today we see the shameful scenario of a jailed MP walking into parliament to take his oath and immediately after that returning to his cell. A person no less than the President of India has commented about the trading of legislators like commodities.

Forget a small group like the coalition against genocide, a body as powerful, big and independent as the election commission has not been able to prevent criminals from contesting elections. Is the common man s voice heard and respected? I doubt. Can any government decision be taken without being influenced by the local representatives, the members of parliament, ministers etc. But a little lobby of determined individuals could get the most powerful country in the world to listen to it and act on its findings. The US is after all a country which brought a sitting President to trial and almost impeached him. That is what I call Democracy.

Maybe politically the decision to revoke the visa was an error, and to an extent smacks of their traditional arrogance; but since when has been the US politically correct. What if all the nations of the world passed similar laws or just interpreted their existing laws to say that anybody directly or indirectly responsible for the propagation of violence would be banned from entering their country? George W Bush would not be able to step into any country in the world. Isn’t he responsible for the anarchy in Iraq, for indirectly converting Al Qaeda into the most dreaded terrorist organization in the world, for shattering peace in Madrid, Bali, Casablanca, for legitimizing dictators in some countries and demonizing elected rulers in other countries, for not listening to three fourths of the world’s population and attacking Iraq.

Heard that Uncle Bush is planning to visit India this year, why don’t we deny him a visa as well.

Forgetting ..

While at School I remember having studied an essay titled “forgetting”. I don’t exactly recall its contents, but I do remember that it was a funny article generally poking fun at the very common human fallacy. Forgetting the content and remembering the title is acceptable when the topic in question is a grade 8 English essay. On similar lines but disconcertingly, I seem to be remembering only the titles of many other things learned in school/college for which the content is more important. Examples, Bernoulli s principle, Laplace transforms, Doppler Effect and so on. But on the other hand I can tell you the dates of the school trip to a hill station, the name of my class teacher in grade 1, and that a friend of mine had this strange sentiment of wearing the same clothes on all the examination days. On paper this looks like a problem, of remembering the trivial and seemingly unimportant, while forgetting all those theorems and principles. But is it..? Don’t we all remember things closer to our heart than those closer to our brains?

I think this trait is common to many people. While I can remember the number of Oscars Lord of the Rings won, I don’t remember when the deadline for the assignment I am working on now is. The other day I saw a friend of mine forgetting her insurance papers which are a must to obtain the visa to go abroad for the company sponsored training session, while she had no trouble in remembering what another colleague’s favorite word was … yes of all things... favorite word...

The other day my roommate forgot the house keys and stepped out. The door has an automatic lock and our friend was there trapped outside the flat and I was hundreds of miles away on a holiday. The only other person to have the keys, the landlord, stayed a good hour or so away. So he had to trudge all the way there and collect the keys. The travel is not the issue, but the “how can you be so stupid” stare from the landlord can kill you. I am saying this with confidence because I received one such stare for the same reason many months back. But, my roommate can in his sleep run through the starting line up of Real Madrid, Man U and maybe Galatasaray and Dynamo Kiev also for good measure.

I am sure many among us would have had similar experiences, how many times would you have struck your hand on your forehead and said “Damn! I forgot to submit that assignment / forgot to return the book to the library/ forgot to call up a best buddy on his birthday (yeah, the buddy would be a guy, if it’s a girl, the guy may not forget) “.

And how many times would one have prided himself for remembering among other things the names of all the girls across all the years who studied… nah ….shared the campus while one was in college, the clinching answer that helped your team win the inter college competition, the number of runs Sachin scored in the world cup, the first movie with your girlfriend and so on..

I am not going to delve deep and analyze this for I have already told that people remember things closer to their hearts than to their brains and also I have blissfully forgotten all the basics of psychology that I learnt in first year B-school..

STOP the SOP

SOP s – Standard operating procedures. There is none that I hate more in this world, than this term. It has overtaken reality television, Valentines Day and washing clothes as the thing that I hate the most.

The first time I came across the term SOPs was maybe when I was in school. That SOP was something else, it stood for statement of purpose – that darned write up that one sends along with other stuff while applying to a university abroad. A friend of mine was showing me his sister’s statement of purpose, I just gave it a passing glance. Years later when I gave my GRE and time came for me to apply for universities; this SOP reared its head again. People said that SOP s would make or break your application and it is the most vital thing that you send to the university. There even were career counselors who would help you to prepare a SOP. Things so happened that I did not apply for any university but I started developing a hate for this term SOP.

But the SOP that I have mentioned in the initial paragraph refers to standard operating procedures. This is an absolutely good for nothing piece of document, that nobody likes, but everybody swears by. I think it was while doing my MBA that I was introduced to this definition of SOP. We were taught that having standard operating procedures was a good business practice and the one of the characteristics by which you could define a good firm.

The very first day of my job I was given an 8 page SOP to read and familiarize with. I faithfully read the whole thing only to realize that the SOP has not been updated to include some major changes that had taken place. All my efforts in comprehending them went waste. Fortunately my co workers never paid much attention to this document. Every job was treated on its merit and done with common sense, which I thought was very good. But I also learnt that higher up the hierarchy everybody was swearing by SOPs, anything and everything needed a SOP
SOP for taking holidays,
SOP for telephone calls,
SOP for e mails,
SOP for talking to customers
SOP for the way you arrange your desk, your file and what not.

Even when a new system was being tried out, everybody wanted a SOP made for its working, even before the system was perfected. The system should grow on its own, with the various users trying out new methods for improving it and ultimately one will get the best way of working. But if the system is in its nascent stage and the users hands are tied down with the knot called SOPs then the system will not evolve and be a failure. And also it takes so much time to draw up a SOP, that by the time you finish it, the procedures mentioned become obsolete. So what do you do?? Draw up a fresh SOP, what else!! I think some people are perpetually making SOPs.

Though the intention of having a SOP is good (it is always good to have a ready guide to look upto when in doubt) I don’t think that it must be used an end word, as something that decides the way you do your job. A rigid adherence to SOP means no scope for innovation, no cross learning from other departments, no risks and as the saying goes no rewards. SOPs can provide the much needed excuse for u to pass the buck to someone else and also to cover your ass. You can always say that it is not part of the SOP and so do not expect me to do the job. So convenient isn’t it?

The day is not far off when someone would draw up a SOP for making a SOP. Or is it already there??

Musing about SRK movies

I was channel surfing one lazy Sunday afternoon, and stumbled upon this Shah Rukh Khan movie “Chalte Chalte”. It took me two full rounds from channel 1 to 90 before I caught this movie, the reason being the ad break in that channel. Well actually more than half of the channels were playing ads as I was surfing past them. But that is another story altogether and for a later day.

Coming back to the movie, this was one Shah Rukh movie that I had not seen and so sat down to see what it was all about. This guy is a bundle of energy, even if his films are bad, he usually sparkles in his role – hamming away in his inimitable style and getting the best lines. This one also had him playing himself and not the character. But as the story was unfolding, I realized that this one also had SRK loving and wishing to marry a girl who is engaged to or about to get engaged to another man. I was struck by the fact that, most of his movies have had this theme running. Even as I am writing this, he is serenading the girl in a lovely foreign locale under the pretext of taking her to meet her would be husband. I say chaps, how more weird can u get??

While in DDLJ he traveled all the way from London to Punjab, in this movie he throws away everything and travels to Greece to win over the girl. How easy!!As one character says in the movie, he is going to Greece and not Ghatkopar, but being the hero he has everything ready made for himself like tickets, visa and doles of dough to finance everything. In kuch kuch hota hai he picked the girl right out of the marriage hall, while in Dil to pagal hai, the setting was a dance stage in front of a few thousand people. In veer zara he went one step further and wanted to marry a Pakistani girl engaged to a rich aristocrat Pakistani. He deservedly got 22 years in the prison for this, but what the heck; he did get the old preity zinta in the end.

Along the way he has been helped by some seriously fickle minded ladies, who, after a few songs, a few outrageously foolish acts in the name of love (like diving into a lake to retrieve a coin and throwing away an air force job to hop over to Pakistan) and a few sentimental dialogues by our hero, fall hook line and sinker for him. And not to mention a few chevalier gentlemen who so magnanimously sacrifice their girl for our hero. Plus the Anupam Kher type father /uncle/ whatever who egg on our hero in his mission “flick the female”.

Coming to think of it, it’s not just our SRK, but all the heroes have to get the heroines in the end. This is the norm for standard Indian cinema. After all who does not like a happy ending?

Alas, if only things were this easy in real life, u know, like falling in love after a couple of meetings, getting the girl to accept u, even if she accepts u; to get the relationship going for a long time, if the relationship does go on; then to stay committed for a long time, and after all this to face the parents and convince them. Gosh, this is a long and torturous path, aint it?? Am sure many would have failed or come to the brink of failure at any one of these stages.

The lucky ones would have braved them and gone ahead and who knows may enjoy these movies

The unlucky ones write blogs criticizing such movies.

V day - very bad day

Its valentine season and there is no way u can escape from it. Turn on the TV and every TV station worth its name has a v day special running. The music channels have evergreen love songs running all day long and of course boring you to death. The Movie channels have what they claim ‘all time great movie classics’ lined up as part of the valentine bouquet. Sadly, there is no Casablanca or Love story or at least Titanic in this bouquet. The news channels are no exception. There would be day long debates with all the usual suspects participating. One from the sangh parivar (RSS/BJP/Shiv sena) to talk about Indian culture, values and how Feb 14 is degrading it . One libertarian to defend the celebrations and one more to take a middle path and preach. God only knows when we will see a valentine s day without a debate about it in the news channels.

You want to escape from all this sham, turn the idiot box off and turn on the good old radio. Crash, boom, bang... the bombardment continues there as well. I tuned into a FM Station only to catch two TV starlets professing their undying love for each other and supposedly regaling us with the chronological history of their love story, which incidentally, is all of 6 months old. Another one had this innovative contest, it was something like this ... You love a girl and want to marry her. The normally opposing parents are all bally-ho about it. There is only one hitch; the girl comes with an excess baggage, in this case a dog. It’s a case of love me, love my dog. And your parents don’t want the damned dog. So the million dollar v day contest is... How will you convince your parents to let her bring the dog along with her? Good that Saint Valentine is dead, he would have committed suicide.

Now that the TV and the Radio have proved unbearable, it is with much trepidation that I open the newspaper. And my fears were not unfounded, every page has something or the other about the day, most of which are trite and boring and bringing a sense of déjà vu. The net is no different either, the pop ups fly at u with alarming regularity and selling everything from chocolates, flowers to candle light dinners.

Think I should join the shiv sena and join their valentine busting department. My target would not be the poor couples in public places, the other sainiks will take care of them, but all those radio andTV stations and newspaper columnists.

Sania Mania !!

An Indian woman sportsperson created history last fortnight. She made the headlines on the prime time news; she hogged the headlines in next morning’s news papers. The major magazines of the nation devoted more than a page to her. She was felicitated by among others the chief minister and governor of her state. Did Sania Mirza win the Australian Open?? Sania lost in the third round.

Agreed that reaching the third round was a first for an Indian woman tennis player and that, she more than gave a fight to the eventual champion Serena Williams. She is a talented player and may very well win more matches and bring more laurels. She has to be nurtured, given world class training, coaching and facilities and sponsors. This unprecedented third round performance has made her a celebrity overnight and if I am to believe the news reports she has received sponsorship endorsements worth 8 crores. Thank god, Mahesh Bhupathi was visionary enough to see her potential take her under his wings and sign her for his sports management firm.

While all this is welcome, I fear that amidst all this the tennis player in Sania may lose out to the celebrity Sania. She has already started appearing in advertisements and started speaking like a celebrity. Take this Quote “I want to be a youth icon, not a sex symbol”. You cannot blame her , she is all of 17 , and is seeing her photos splashed all across in the net , in Television and billboards where one clearly sees that the emphasis is more on her good looks. Every major satellite channel has aired an interview with her in the last 15 days. There is a grave danger of her getting bitten by the celebrity bug. Let her achieve some more, let she win a grand slam, then we can treat her like a queen... There is the example of Anna kournikova, who became a rage not for her tennis, but for her looks. She made one Wimbledon semi final appearance, no WTA titles, retired at 24 and now is known more as Enrique Inglesias’s girlfriend. She realized that she can make more money without playing Tennis.

She is treading on unknown path; we did not have Indian woman tennis celebrity before her. Her success can spawn much more such players. While there is no dearth of female tennis players in the senior junior, sub junior level etc not one of them have made big in the international stage. A successful Sania Mirza can inspire many more. Leander Paes won junior Wimbledon; he performed miracles in the Davis cup, won grand slam doubles. We as a nation were overjoyed and treated him like a Hero. While Leander deserved all this, if we had been more demanding from him maybe he would have excelled as a singles player as well. Similarly we must demand more from Sania. Give her sponsorships, but as a return do not make her to act in stupid commercials. Do not make her think that by doing commercials she can give back her due to her sponsors. Demand performance on the tennis court, not in front of the camera. Let she become a star , do not create one.