Gothenburg diary - more stories.

Continuing with the Gothenburg diary. There was a delay in updating the new stories , as among other things I took a few days break and traveled to Belgium and Holland. That was an exciting trip ,with the highlight being I getting stranded in Copenhagen airport for 20 hours due to a raging snow storm and the airport shutting down. Now no one wants to travel with me by air anywhere. Being stranded for 20 hours due to snow and flights getting diverted due to snowstorms is not a good track record I guess.

Getting back to good old Gothenburg, one of the common questions that I get from family and friends back home is about Indian food. Since they know that I don’t know to cook Indian food or any food for that matter , they were keen to know if there was any Indian restaurants around where I could cure my home food sickness. And the answer is , there are not one or two but many. On last count I have seen about 9 of them. Located all over town. There is one right next to my current apartment. It is called Mother India.

When you have Mother India , isn’t it but natural that we have its offspring also. Yes, I have seen Indian restaurants named Delhi, Bombay and Madras. These are three different restaurants in three different parts of town. Guess there must also be a Calcutta in some part of town. I have not gone to the other side of town across the river yet. And then you have the ones that play up the Indian cliché . Taj rasoi, Taj Mahal , Maharaja and I think I also saw a Maharani. I can offer a few more names, Elephanta , magic carpet, snake charms and you can firmly reinforce the Indian stereotype.

All said and done , the mystery that I talked of in the previous post is this. When I see so many Indian restaurants it is but natural to assume that there must be a substantial Indian population about town , that needs to be catered by these restaurants. But that’s where I draw a blank. I hardly see any Indians on the roads, the trams, the malls and parks of Gothenburg. Finding them here is as rare as finding an auto rickshaw with a working meter in Chennai. I have come to believe that the only Indians about town are the ones working at the restaurants and then a few idiots like me who blog about them.

Nordstan is the biggest mall in town. Some say it is the biggest in Sweden, though I find that hard to believe. But this is the premier shopping centre in town , housing major brands and all kind of shops. During peak hours this place is jam packed with office goers, tourists, students and the like. But at night this is the place for the homeless, the jobless and the weirdoes. I live next door to Nordstan and so I have ventured out many a time at night for a stroll or to buy food and I have come across these weird characters who look straight out of a comic strip - the X men variety. Ridiculously colored hairs, piercing on all the wrong places of the human face, dressed typically in biker or rock star leather jackets and trench coats , lots of silver and iron adorning them and generally strutting about the place making their presence felt. I never understand for what reason they go about disfiguring themselves and coloring themselves silly. If it is about having their own identity then I would say its more of an identity crisis. I enquired around with some of my local friends here and they attributed the weirdoes presence to Gothenburg being some sort of centre for Gothic bands and that you have frequent congregations of them. Hmm.. So all of them are wannabe rock stars,. Wonder if I should get autographs from some of them and keep it.

You never know , I could sell it on eBay someday and make money.

The cuious case of the silent kids has has been somewhat diluted by conflicting reports. But still the case is like this. There seems to be an absolute baby boom in Gothenburg . Take a peak hour in Nordstan , stand in the middle of the square and turn to any direction. Nine out of ten times , you will see a perambulator being wheeled around. Kids here , there and everywhere. On the trams, in MacDonald’s, inside Hemskop, at the central station, on the Avenyn , at the parks, just about anywhere. But .. What struck me as curious was the silence. Kids or babies are supposed to wail, scream, and generally make life miserable for the ones around. But the ones here are quiet, happily ensconced in their warm carriages and having the time of their life. But then as I have said there have been reports from other friends about wailing kids next door and tantrum throwing ones on the roads and so I believe this case is not so curious after all….

Chennai to Gothenburg - day one, the haps and the mishaps

As they say, the only constant thing in the world is change ( my intro for a blog always sucks) and in staying true to this maxim, here I am uprooted from the cozy confines of hometown Chennai to the cold climes of Scandinavia. The below is my first day experience in this lovely country

Apparently the citizens of Gothenburg were waiting for snow for the last 2 months, that is ever since winter formally set in. Just like I was waiting for my Swedish visa to come in for the last 2 months, that is ever since I got and formally accepted the Sweden job. And the famed snow chose, as if by coincidence, or divine intervention to come down in a storm, the very day in which my flight was supposed to land at Gothenburg. It was “ supposed “ to land.. It never did. Instead it went to a city called Malmo.

While at Chennai you would find, auto and taxi drivers jostling to get you into their money minting automobiles, here in Malmo , we had to wait at the airport for a good one hour, because the airline could not find a bus operator to take us to Gothenburg. Finally they managed to find one and what followed was a three hour long journey on the highway, with snowstorm and all that around you. I was looking forward to seeing the Swedish countryside, but all that I could see was white sheets of snow and then darkness.

Reached Gothenburg airport at around 8.30 pm. Not a soul to be seen anywhere. The screeching noise my suitcases made as I dragged them across could have been heard in the next country. Whoever said that the airports of Europe are on high alert constantly ?? Either they are wrong or Gothenburg is not in Europe. Since the learned amongst us know that Gothenburg is in Europe, they are wrong. I had to make a phone call to my colleague, and lo the pay phone wont speak anything apart from Swedish. It only ate up 25 recently converted Swedish kroners and did not lead me anywhere. Thankfully there was a kind lady at the information booth ( it would remain a mystery to me as to why this booth didn’t close at 5 pm) who let me use the phone.

So out stepped Mr. Kumar into the snow covered taxi bay and one could see that the cab drivers were cozily relaxing inside their climate controlled cars. I had a strange feeling that they did see me but were not bothered , I had to wave, shout to wake up one of them and ask them to take me to the Gothenburg central station. He must have fallen on some bad patch, money wise. Otherwise I don’t see any reason he should have obliged to drive me to town. Give me the auto drivers of Chennai any day man.

I have seen the Chennai central station and now here I was in Gothenburg Central at 9 pm. To my still in India mind, 9 pm at Central station meant absolute madness. A million people, 2 million bags and suitcases, screaming kids , railway employees, a few trains leaving at the same time and a few trains that don’t leave on time. Gothenburg central at 9 pm was like a scene out of a madcap movie. Weird characters were lazing around the place,, one woman had about 20 piercing on her face, one was dressed up like some zombie ( whitened face, black lipstick, long trench coat and spiked hair) , there was a shaggy old man playing some haunting music and begging ( the only common factor to Chennai). Its been 4 days and I have seen these characters surfacing at the central station and the mall next to it after 6 pm ( that’s when the late night starts ) . U may wonder when night starts, that starts at 4 pm. Day ?? What is that ?? When I go to work it is still dark and when I come back it is dark. I feel like I am working in some call centre doing night shift.

Coming back to day one I found my apartment soon thanks to my colleague who was kind enough to brave the rain and pick me up. I had to get to the third floor and there was this lovely elevator which was in place for doing that job. Except that it did not climb up. So me and my two suitcases climbed three floors and I had to invent new expletives to vent my feelings ( most of them had been overused in the day) .The apartment was comfortable excepting the fact that being a service apartment and not a hotel I d have to make my own food. Now that was a problem. Here I was conditioned to home food for more than a year and asking me to make my own food was criminal if not something worse than that. But then hunger makes you do extraordinary things and I made my own food. It was noodles of course. What did you think , I d make a full meal the very first day ?? Id be surprised if I make a full course meal even after the 2 years id be here.

So ended day one. Tired , hungry, dirty. Having left my family, my best friends, my hometown , here I was freezing in snowing Scandinavia. But then life is a challenge ( the blog is about to end, one needs to give a philosophical twist) and one has to go on.

Till more Scandinavian updates.. Enjoy the sunshine and send some over.

By the way, did I tell you that the elevator worked when my colleague wanted to go down 3 floors after showing me my apartment ???

Word of the year - Chik- what ??

Every year the various major dictionary publications of the world and other sundry literary associations select a ‘word of the year ‘. Much like the ‘Man of the year’,‘newsmaker of the year’ and other such awards, there also exists a word of the year.
For example, in 2005 the new oxford American dictionary announced ‘Podcast’ as the word of the year. The American dialect society for example selected the word ‘she ‘as the word of the millennium in the year 2000. Apparently there was no word she before the 12th century.

As this year is rapidly drawing to a close, all the publications must be working overtime selecting and nominating various words for the ‘word of the year ‘title. I have one word as my entry for the word of the year. And that is ‘Chikungunya’.

Chik what? That seemed to be the first reaction for most of us when we first heard the word. MS word doesn’t recognize it still; maybe it needs an outbreak in the US for that to happen. Anyway, as per Wikipedia..

"Chikungunya is a relatively rare form of viral fever caused by an alpha virus that is spread by mosquito bites ".

As you can detect from the above, this chick thing is a fever, a pain that is in the news in India this year for all the wrong reasons. People across the country have been infected by this disease, with many fatalities as well. Though this disease is not considered to be fatal in nature, this had taken epidemic proportions in various parts of the country.

And why should I select this word. It is because it gave me a week of peace and freedom. From office, from irritating customers who call at the drop of a hat and from the daily mundane chores of office work. So what if you had a 102 deg fever and joint pains for a month. I used the opportunity to revisit my DVD collection, enjoy the Chennai rains from my window and add to my downloaded music collection. It was all about finding the good thing in the bad.

The funny thing was that when news first broke out about this disease, thanks to its name, people associated this to be another ‘bird flu ‘and soon the sales of chicken started falling! Chikun was seen as chicken and lo, the poultry was facing another crisis. But soon people knew that this had nothing to with the winged bird that people eat, but with the other smaller winged creature that feasts on us. The mosquito.

All said and done, let this word be a phenomenon only for this year! We do not need new specimens of diseases to add to the English dictionary.

The Hero we lost !

India lost a hero yesterday! How many of us know about it?

How many of us heard of a policeman from Jammu called Randhir Singh who was killed in a gun battle with the militants on the 5th of October 2006

When I was a kid, I was taught about the great epics. The Ramayana and the Mahabharata, where I was told that the great warriors who slay the evil demons and the devils are worshipped as heroes and their praise sung for generations on end. I was taught about the great kings of India, the valiant Porus who kept away the all conquering Alexander from entering India, about Prithviraj chauhan who fought the invaders from Afghanistan, about our great freedom fighters who fought the British and who laid down their lives driving out the enemy. We remember the Bhagat sings and the Chandrasekhar azads and cherish them as heroes.

When all through our history, the greatest heroes have been these brave warriors who fought for justice and peace and the good, why is that post independence we have a different set of heroes. Of cricketers, politicians, movie stars, industry chieftains and scientists. What happened to all the brave people? We have fought 4 major wars since independence, there has been militancy in Kashmir, Punjab, the North east and our cities are no longer safe and immune to terrorism. But still the ordinary man in you and me are able to have a peaceful sleep and go about our daily chores with terrorism and safety as the last thing on our mind. Why?? It is because of what I consider the pride of our nation - our armed forces and the jawans and policemen fighting on the borders and keeping the enemy at bay. One such brave man we lost yesterday and it hardly made news!!

Post independence perhaps the most audacious and symbolically most significant act of terrorism in India was the attack on the Parliament house on Dec 13 2001. The master mind behind this attack was a militant called Ghazi baba. A devil or monster or villain or evil incarnate terrorist, call him what you may, don’t you agree that the person who vanquished him is nothing short of a hero? And that person was Randhir Singh. Randhir killed Ghazi baba in an anti terrorist operation a few years back. How many of us knew of this hero who killed the mastermind behind the most audacious attack on India.?

This brave soldier was killed in another terrorist encounter in Jammu yesterday and his death was nothing short of heroic. After having been injured in yet another operation some months back, he was still not fully fit and yet to recuperate completely. But still he joined the action and went back to his duty even though his leave period was not yet over. I doubt if you and me are made of such sterner stuff.

This brave man died yesterday, killed by militants, while protecting his fellow countrymen and his nation. He left behind a one year old son and a grieving but proud family. Will he be remembered as a hero, as a modern day incarnate of the great heroes of India’s history? I don’t think so. We have chosen to follow a different set of heroes.

Randhir Singh would have been consigned to flames today, and alas, his heroism and bravery also would be.

Questions without Answers !

Some questions for which I may never find answers: These are not exactly questions for which Mr. Murphy is the answer

Why is that when you are waiting at the platform to catch a train, it always so happens that before a train comes in the direction that you want, there are at least 2 trains passing by on the opposite direction?

Why is that people who are otherwise ordinary and normal , after getting into the first class coach in the local train, take the air of a snob and look down upon and scold poor souls who get into the first class coach by mistake.

Why it is that while in a hotel the one item in the menu card that you would have chosen after perusing for 15 minutes is not available that day??

Why it is that in the same hotel, the food served to the neighboring table looks more delicious and attractive than the one you have ordered for??

Why it is that while in a hotel, it is not the food that gets delayed, but the bill for the food you have eaten??

Why it is that when you attend a wedding, the aunties, grand moms and the assorted lot has to ask when you are planning to get married?

Why it is that when you are standing in the check in counter in the airport, the person in front of you has the maximum number of bags and takes up your time unnecessarily?

Why it is that it is always your bag that comes last out of the conveyer belt while in the airport baggage concourse??

Why is it that when you travel by air or train or whatever, there is always around the corner a wailing kid who never seems to stop???

Why is it that at that the end of a long tiring day, when you are in the train on the way back home and want some peace, some acquaintance bumps into you and starts a never ending conversation??

Why is it that every other ring tone apart from the one in your mobile phone, sounds jarring and loud??

Why is it that while shopping, the one piece of cloth that you like, ends up being the most expensive in the whole bloody floor??

Why is it that I don’t get answers for all these questions?

The Bureau Puller of Chennai

For the last few years, one singe person has been giving the police force of Chennai some major embarrassment. I can’t say he is giving them sleepless nights, coz if he was indeed giving them, then they should have used that sleeplessness to catch him. This person, a thief, has been hoodwinking the police and making a fool of both the cops and the general public. He has a very unique way of operating. He doesn’t believe in the age old thieving concept of ‘break –in’. He doesn’t enter into the house he targets, but rather prefers to finish his job while being outside. His modus operandi could be called ‘pull-out’.

He apparently opens a window, checks out the surroundings and finding the bureau or cupboard or almirah or godrej or whatever you call it, drags it towards the window, opens it and decamps with the valuables inside. This trick he has been performing to near perfection for the last many years now. There are lots of gaps in this story. Are the windows always open, is the buereu always near to the window, how does he pull the quite heavy cupboards to his side, what are the inmates doing while he does the dragging and opening thing, and how he has been doing this for about 4 years now ? All that the papers say is the burglar has struck again and that he pulled the bureau and looted it.

These are many unanswered questions which have only helped to increase the aura around the bureau puller of Chennai. Plus the fact that the cops have not been able to catch him for years together now adds to his image. If only there was any news about this guy giving out goodies to the poor and helping out the needy, then this could have been a perfect Robin Hood story. Alas not, this looks a smart chap who knows his job. What is most irritating is the fact that even after this has been in the news for so many years the people still seem to prefer to keep their valuables inside their bureaus ( never heard of bank vaults I think) and then they position that damned thing right next to the windows. A standing invitation to the B.P would have better. No wonder every few months this dude strikes and retires back to enjoying his loot till the next time.

The normally sedate ‘The Hindu’ paper also carries articles about him. If this chap was operating in Mumbai, I could very well imagine the frenzy that the Mid-day, the Mumbai mirror, the Times and other sensationalist papers could have whipped up. Maybe even Mahesh Bhatt and family could have got a new movie idea based on this elusive bureau puller. Gangster – Killer – bureau puller. Could have completed the trilogy. But on second thoughts, may be not, for the Bhatt’s to make the movie, it should have been first made in Hollywood, only then they can rip off or lets say pull off here.

If at all the cops manage to catch him, I would want to meet this guy and get exclusive rights to his life story. Then write a book, sell that to a movie maker, make himesh reshammiya compose songs, remix them under lounge, club and bangra versions and finally make a video game out of his bureau pulling act.

Imagine the game…... could be an invisible bureau that he must find, a bureau located far off that he must pull, cops on the prowl (atleast in the game), alert inmates who are up to no good, multiple levels etc etc.. The possibilities are infinite.

Now you know why they say that the Bureau puller has caught the imagination of Chennaiites.

Module 4- The last act

Before you proceed further, let me tell you that this post would be the last travelogue one on this blog for some time to come.

I have previously written about the Modules 1, 2 and 3 in Copenhagen and so it would be a shame if I don’t write about the last and final module. And given the fact that the final module is unique and special in more ways than one, I would be committing a crime by not putting the experiences into words. Module 4 is special because it brings together all the 250 odd trainees under one roof for the first time, because it has the final exams of the MISE program, because it has the self leadership week – a week spent in the Danish forests, because it has the graduation ceremony at the company headquarters and because it may be the last time I would be meeting many of the fellow trainees from across the world.

Unlike the previous modules this time all we 19 Indian trainees were allowed to leave a day early to Copenhagen, so that it gives us ample time to shake off the jet lag and get ourselves ready for the exams. And since the company was a bit generous with the allowance this time, all of us checked into the SAS Radisson located at the heart of the city. The day was spent doing some studies, lots of time pass, and a dinner at the Indian palace hotel. The next day we left for our module centre. This time it was not to that delightful place Karslunde, but towards the North, to the suburb of Snekkersten. Comwell Borupgaard was the name of the hotel where we stayed and it was one heck of a place. With enough rooms to take in 250 trainees and more, it had class rooms the size of movie theatres, conference and discussion rooms, a lobby that stretched for ever, a sauna and a swimming pool and a dedicated staff to run it. And more importantly the food was better than what we used to get in Karslunde.

Snekkersten was located by the sea and a short walk from the hotel would take you to the beach and the small harbor where the yachts and fishing boats lay docked. The road along the beach was dotted with small but beautiful cottages and houses. And the scenery all around was of the highest order. When I retire, this would be the kind of place I want to settle in.

For the first 4 days we were occupied by the exams. Logistics, Liner trade and Maritime law were the subjects we were being tested in. Even though they were mainly open book exams, they were not what you would call piece of cakes. One had to wade through hundreds of pages of notes and handouts to pick out the right answer and write. Looking back I would remember these days not for the exams but for the sheer number of printouts and photocopies that the folks took over those 4 days. The photocopier was used incessantly through out the night as people stocked more and more pages of notes for the open book exams. I guess the number of papers used would have wiped out a forest the size of a small Danish city. And the season being summer, the days were extremely long. If one planned to start studying after the sun went down, and then he checks his watch after the sun finally did go down, he would be shocked to see that the time was about half past eleven.

The next big thing was the leadership week. The only thing we knew was that we had to spend 5 days in the Danish wilderness and that it would be physically and mentally very demanding. Apart from this we knew nothing, and sadly, apart from this, you would also know nothing. The experiences of the leadership week are not to be shared. I can only say that those were 5 amazing days, we did things that we never imagined we were capable of , we stretched our bodies to limits that we never dreamt of, we marched, we jogged, we swam, we rowed, we canoed, we cycled, we worked as a team, we competed, we lost, we won. We survived .And learnt quite a few lessons. After the survival week, I feel like the shoe ad – impossible is nothing!

The survival week ended in a remote Danish countryside with fireworks lighting up the Scandinavian sky in our honor and with the loudspeakers playing ‘we are the champions’. After which the tired, dirty and ragged but proud batch left for their respective hotels to get some sleep and get ready for the graduation ceremony the next day.

Next day all of us assembled at the company headquarters in Esplanaden, Copenhagen. There was a reception hosted in our honor, a meeting with the group CEO and a photo session with the company partners. The sight of 253 trainees from about 70 countries assembled on 5 tiers was itself a show stopper. We could see cars pulling over on the road and people stepping out to check out on what was happening. And the official photographer was not the only one clicking away. I could see tourists stopping by on the way and taking pictures of our group. The last program of the day was the closing dinner. The venue was the Danish stock exchange. We were ferried across to the stock exchange on the boats plying on the canals. The closing dinner was a gala affair. With speeches, performances and innumerable photographs being clicked for posterity, the dinner was memorable. The dinner was the last official act in the MISE module calendar.

All of us then hit the pub called Luux, and partied the night away. As we stepped out at about 4 am, it was already dawn and the night had faded away. We had 2 more days before we flew back to India. Day one was spent in Copenhagen itself, walking around the city and drinking in its sights and sounds. Day two, we took a train to Malmo, the Swedish city located just half an hour away from Copenhagen. Malmo is a small, peaceful city and if not for the blue and yellow Swedish flags flying on the buildings, one wouldn’t find any difference between Malmo and any other place in Denmark. Next day we flew back to India

2 years, 4 modules, 6 exams, hundreds of friends, infinite experiences. One looks back at the two years and doesn’t find enough words to describe the experience of the modules. And I leave it at that.

Vessel Tour - The Korean ' soap' Opera and other stories

The final stop in the vessel tour was South Korea. Korea has always been a distant land, literally and figuratively. I did know much of Korea, its history, its culture, its pastimes, current affairs and trivia associated with it, as I would know of US or Japan or Singapore for that matter. The Seoul Olympics, the 2002 world cup, the Hyundais and Samsungs was all that I knew of Korea. This lack of knowledge made me look forward to spending 2 days at Seoul and Busan.

After 8 days on the vessel it was time to say good bye and disembark at Busan.The first thing that struck me as we got out of the port and onto the streets of Busan was the non usage of English as a medium of communication. And the other aspect was the devalued currency. Everything was in ten thousands. One USD buys about 900 Korean won. I had the shock of my life when the guy at the hotel said that the charge per night was 45000 Korean won. Sense prevailed on me when I realized that meant 50 USD and that the guy was not selling me a presidential suite in the grandest hotel of Busan. These were two aspects which would come back again and again to trouble us.

We took an early morning flight from Busan to Seoul Incheon airport. Spanking new, Incheon airport was built on reclaimed land on an island about 60 kilometers away from Seoul city. We took a limousine bus from the airport to our hostel in downtown Seoul. The ride took an hour and more, and we could see that Seoul was as modern as it could get. High rise buildings, huge shopping malls, American fast food outlets on every corner, excellent roads and what not. Our hostel was located just opposite the cheongdung palace, one of the many palaces around which Seoul is built. The Palace was huge, spread over quite an area and obviously held a pride of place going by the tour guides description. The king’s quarters and the palace buildings looked quite Spartan and simple, compared to the opulence and grandeur of the palaces and forts of the Kings here in India.

Perhaps the funniest moment of the entire trip happened in Seoul when I ventured out to a pop and mom store to buy a bathing soap. Obviously the guy at the shop could not understand what I was asking for and I also could not figure out where the heck were the soaps stacked in that shop. So I had to recall all my dumb charades skills and enact a scene of taking bath. Perhaps I over did it and from the shopkeepers turn of expression I realized with a fear that he had read that as me suffering from rashes and that at any moment he may hand me the nearest antiseptic. Quickly changing my act from crude to finesse I was successful in getting the message across that all I wanted was a bathing soap. And I thought my troubles were over. It took another 5 minutes for him to get me to understand that the cost was 5000 won. He had to type 5000 on a calculator for me to understand, and that is what every shopkeeper in Korea did to me.

Equally traumatic was Sara s experience of searching for a resturant that serves Halal food. Many of them assumed that Halal was a type of delicacy that this sub continent girl was craving for and were very sorry that they didnt have that in their menu. I thought Sara was asking for too much , since at most of the hotels we had trouble in finding out what type of meat was being served, leave alone investigating if the meat was halal or not !! Because of this reason, we gave a go by to the Korean restaurants and went to the trusted MacDonalds and the Pizza Huts of the world.

After the palace trip, I and Sara walked to the dongengeum tourists market. A specially demarcated tourist’s zone, it consisted of rows of roadside shops as well as huge malls. The Doota mall with ten floors of only shops was like a dream come true for Sara and a nightmare of sorts for me. We spent the first day mostly walking in and around Downtown Seoul and drinking in the city's ambience and getting a feel of this fast paced city.

Day 2 in Seoul. We started by walking to the nearest Starbucks (there seemed to one every 100 meters) and having a quick breakfast. Then we walked to the Tapgol Park, the birthplace of the Korean freedom movement. Located in downtown Seoul, the place was packed with old timers and to me it seemed were the only ones under the age of 70 in that park. Perhaps a reflection of the fact that freedom and its history no longer appeals to youngsters.

We then got into one of the Seoul city tour buses, which takes us on a trip around the city and stops at the important tourist places. After walking, the best way to see any city is through one of these buses. With English commentary and a good lot of places being covered, the tour bus was a good decision. It took us to a few more palaces, past the ‘ Blue House’ – home of the Korean President, to the Itaewon tourist zone, the Korean war memorial, the Seoul station to name a few. The ride atop Mount Namsan was also unforgettable. As the bus made its way up the hill, the view of the brightly lit city stretching across endlessly was a sight to behold.

Seoul is a city which feels that it need not know English to survive. Well, if Hyundai, LG, Samsung and Kia are any indication then that belief looks vindicated. More so when you see Starbucks, Pizza hut, KFC and many more American outlets manned by people with minimal English skills. All of them were koreanised.

2 days were not at all enough to cover Seoul. It was with a sense of having missed the woods for the trees that we left Korea the next day morning. We both were flying back to Karachi and Chennai via Singapore. It was curtains for the 2 week long vessel tour and time to get back to the harsh realities of the world. Sara had a connecting flight within an hour after landing while I had six hours to kill in Changi. And that is when I had the time to put down the first blog about the vessel tour.

Sailing with Sara - Aboard the ' AP Moller'

The vessel tour is part of the training program and its purpose is to get us to familiarize with the working of a vessel and view from close quarters the daily workings aboard a company vessel. After much delays and disappointments – me and Sara had got permissions on three other vessels all of which had to be dropped due to one reason or the other - we finally got our chance on the ‘ A.P Moller ‘. It was with a mix of childlike excitement and bit of trepidation that we signed on to the Vessel at the Port of Singapore. Excitement because, we were getting a chance to sail on a ship, and trepidation because we were to spend a week aboard and we have heard from many friends and colleagues that 7 is too long a period and one would be bored to death. Also one was not sure about the exact nature of work required to be done on the vessel by us.

The vessel ‘AP Moller’ is one of the biggest in the Maersk fleet. With a length of 347 metres and say about 15 stories high, this one was one mean machine. A Danish flag vessel, it plied on the Asia Europe leg. Our trip was to take us to Kaoshiung in Taiwan and from there to Busan in South Korea. We got introduced to the Captain and the Chief Mate at the ships office and got our training schedule for the week. We were also given the boiler suit, helmet and safety gloves, essential while working on the engine room. First step was to move our belongings to the cabins allotted to us. Located on the C deck, the cabins were minimal but comfortable. A bed, a sofa, writing table, couple of chairs, a cabinet, a small fridge and an attached bathroom. Perfect.

We changed into our boiling suits and accompanied a deck cadet ( an Indian) on a familiarization trip around the vessel. The funny part here was Sara’s boiler suit. The smallest size available still measured double her size and she simply could not fit into one. She had to cut, tear and resize a brand new boiler suit and then get into it. We covered every nook and corner in the vessel, right from the bridge at the top most deck to the captains office, the radio room, engine room, the rudder area, the galley, the ships control centre, the dining salon, the DVD library, the TV room, the library, the gymnasium, infirmary, stores , the aft, the rear , the deck. Each and every part of the ship was covered in a few hours. We were also told about the timings for the meals, the do s and don’t s, the rules for purchasing of food items from the stores, timings for the movies and the like. After a pretty exhaustive session we retired to our rooms. The vessel was still at port and the expected time of departure was next day morning.

We got a call at 5 am next morning, asking us to report to the bridge for the sailing. With the aid of the pilot the huge vessel started slowly pulling away from the pier and into the channel. Being such a large vessel I did not feel the movement at all. You literally had to see it to belive that the vessel was on it way and moving. Singapore being such a busy port, the traffic was pretty heavy and the pilot was constantly on the watch advising the course and changes to be made. After a couple of hours on the watch, we got down, changed, had breakfast and started day one.

The meal timings were 7.30 am, 12 noon and 5.30 pm. And the chief mate had scheduled our sessions around these timings. So on any given day, we would have a few hours of bridge watch, a session with any one of the ships officers and also lots of free time. We learned about plotting the course of navigation on a map, the various life saving equipment, the plethora of systems, controls and indicators on the bridge. We had sessions with the Captain, the Chief engineer, the chief mate, the cook, the reefer technician and almost all the officers. Each session was enlightening in its own way. The evenings were

completely free. Usually that meant a movie or 2 in the TV room, or just sitting in the room enjoying some coke and chips and chatting about everything under the sun. With my agnostic irreverence towards religion pitted against Sara’s deep rooted religious beliefs there was enough and more heated debates centering around god, idols ,worship, rituals, superstitions and the like. There were no losers, as both won on the account of gaining some new knowledge about each others religion. I do not remember a time when I had so much time to kill, with no intrusion of the mobile phone, any newspapers or Television to turn to, no Internet to chat, no touch with the outside world. Just me, my colleague Sara, and the crew members. It was

just so relaxing..

On one of the days we had a lifeboat and fire drill. We were doing a mock training session on steps to be taken in case of an emergency. Putting on the life vest, recognizing the signals, getting to know each ones roles during an emergency were some of the training given. Also must mention that getting into a lifeboat all prepared for a drop into the ocean for not exactly funny.

If the bridge represents the calm, cruising, chilled out version of the life on a ship, the engine room is the opposite. Noisy, dirty and extremely hot the engine room and the engine area were extremely difficult sessions. One has to salute the engineers and officers working on the engine as they have to be constantly on the watch and monitor the controls and all that in extremely taxing and demanding en

vironments. By the way the engine room has more controls and monitors then a space shuttle (courtesy a Discovery channel documentary, which a cadet swears by).

Food was Danish all the way. We felt like being in the module centre in Copenhagen whenever we were at the dining room especially during breakfast. Bread, butter, jam, apple juice and yoghurt were the standardized breakfast for me. Lunch and dinner were okay and I managed to hang in there. Sara had difficulty finding her type of food and she compensated for that by having enough and more of Coke and Pringles, not to mention chocolates by the dozens. The DVD room had a collection of more than 500 odd titles. Since there were 3 Indians on board apart from us two, there were also Hindi movies to choose from and we ended up watching some Hindi movies on top of the English ones. The best thing for me was finally getting the chance to watch ‘The Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ a movie I have dying to watch for ages now.

After 4 days of sailing on the South China Sea we reached the Taiwanese por

t of Kaoshiung. Since the port call was only for some hours, we did not venture out or anything. We just observed the cranes working on the vessel. Soon we set sail to Busan

Perhaps the best place to be in a vessel is the aft, the extreme front end of the ship. Remember ‘Titanic – the am flying scene ‘and you would know which part I am referrin

g to. With no sound of the engine there the place is extremely quiet. Just standing there and staring at the vast blue ocean all around you is such surreal an experience. Miles and miles of water, the silence broken only by the faint sound of the ship ploughing through the sea, the aft was an amazing place to be. Standing at the nose and raising your arms, you do feel as if you are flying. James Cameron was not wrong after all.

During our interaction with the sailors one could easily make out that life aboar

d was not that fun. Staying away from land and your family and kids for months together, working at odd hours, sometimes in tough and demanding conditions, these people have a tough time on board. It is only the vacation at the end of a trip that keeps them going. And of course the pay. Even though the company takes care of them well and gives them good facilities, bet each one of them is willing to trade this for a job ashore and being in the company of family and friends. But then now they have to be on board and run these mighty ships which carry more than half of world’s trade on them.

Soon we reached Busan and it was time to disembark. Contrary to my fears that it would be extremely boring, the vessel tour was very exciting. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and am happy that we could make full use of it. It was great learning as well as a much needed rest from the hustle and bustle of life on the land. The 7 days aboard the AP Moller, would always be a very special memory.

Vessel Tour - Singapore Diary.

Modern city state, shoppers paradise, food capital of Asia , clean , prosperous, lots of Indians and of course the Merlion at the Sea front … these were some of the images that I had associated with Singapore prior to leaving to the city state for my vessel tour. And after 3 days, the above images did get reinforced as also did I add many many more to the Singapore compartment in my mind.

Ones first experience of a city is always the airport and that is of not much help, since all the modern airports look the same. Scores of passengers criss- crossing , duty free shops and restaurants by the dozen, queing up for immigration, getting that quizzical look from the immigration officer ,waiting for baggage and the like. Since my colleague Sara’s flight in from Karachi was an hour after mine, I had some time to look around. I could have been in Frankfurt, Paris or Copenhagen. Airports all look the same. Of course, do not include Chennai or Mumbai. Ours retain their shabby identity even now.

Armed with every possible visitors brochure/ guide – metro, restaurants, shopping, Sentosa, electronics, beaches and what not – Sara and me set out to our hostel. Sleepy Sams was located on Arab Street, a famous shopping street where the main commodities hawked are oriental, Indian and Middle Eastern fabrics. Sleepy Sams was a typical hostel. Laid back, relaxed, shared bathrooms, lots of guests and incredibly small rooms.

First stop was Little India, not because I was dying to show off my patriotism - especially to a Pakistani and make a symbolic gesture, but because the district was walking distance from my hostel and also because the famous shopping Mall – Mustafa, was located there. Little India could be called Little South India – Amman temples, flower sellers, vegetable vendors and idly- dosa joints lined up the streets. Took Sara to a South Indian temple, but soon I had to lead her out as she was asking enough and more questions about Hindu mythology and symbols , for most of which I didn’t have the answer. Shopping complexes are one place girls keep quiet and do their thing and so Mustafa was the place to go. Mustafa is a sea of electronics, clothes, bags, chocolates etc, between which humans walk through having the barest space possible. Working 24 hours, Mustafa is manned entirely by Indians, or rather entirely by Tamilians. After the trip around Little India, Mustafa, the Tamil restaurants, I was feeling like being in Chennai rather than in Singapore. No surprise, after all Tamil is an official language here.

We went to the Clarke quay side in the evening. Situated along the Singapore River, the quay side is a dazzling array of riverside restaurants, pubs, shopping complexes. One could also go for a cruise along the river. The river cruise is awesome as it gives you a clear view of many of Singapore’s landmarks. With a pre recorded commentary giving guidance one could glimpse and also get the history about the Parliament house, the theaters by the bay, the Raffles landing site, Robertson quay, the Fullerton hotel, the cluster of skyscrapers along the Marina bay and of course the most endearing symbol of Singapore – The half fish, Half Lion Merlion.

Any trip to Singapore would be incomplete without a trip to Sentosa – the island getaway. Sentosa is a tiny island situated across the bay and is perhaps Singapore’s premier tourist attraction. It claims and it indeed does have all around and fun filled entertainment for people of every age. Sun kissed beaches, one of Asia s biggest aquariums, a jungle trail, a 4D movie theatre, a plant kingdom and much more. Singapore s tallest viewing platform – the rotating Carlsberg sky tower gives a panaromic view of the island as well as gives you a glimpse of Malaysia and the Indonesian islands. The ‘Images of Singapore’ tour takes you through Singapore’s history and developments till present date. The Cable car and Sentosa Luge are attractions giving you a thrill of adventure. The most popular event in Sentosa is the evening musical fountain and laser show. 30 minutes of hi-tech wizardry, left us completely in awe. The sharp laser lights emanating out of the Merlion’s eyes and seemingly stretching out forever is a sight to behold.

Singapore much like most other modern cities has an efficient metro system. Our trips criss crossing the city were made easy by these clean, fast and on time metros. With sufficient signs, maps and routes at display, a tourist could fend for himself easily and not end up confused or lost. We spent time walking through Bugis village, Singapore’s biggest street shopping complex and also spent time checking out a few malls in Bugis.Well, while traveling with a girl and that too one with a weakness for shopping , frequent mall visits are common.

Come night and it was time to check out the Night Safari. The world’s first and perhaps only Night safari, this was one unforgettable experience. Situated at the Singapore zoo, the safari takes you on a battery operated tram through a designed route where you view animals in their natural habitat. Compared to other normal safari rides, here the thrill factor is much more magnified by the silence and the darkness through which the ride takes you. Viewing Tigers, Lions, hyenas etc in the night, in extremely close distances, in an almost eerie atmosphere is quite an experience, scary almost. On the way back we passed through the famous shopping district of orchard road. High rise malls, food courts and 5 star hotels, Orchard road is dazzling to say the least.

Singapore is a good tourist place, but perhaps only as a one time visit. It may not pull you back again and again, as i would imagine a Paris or a Switzerland would. But still Singapore was a pretty good experience. Soon it was time to pack off to the port and get into the good vessel AP Moller. We were scheduled to spend 7 and half days on the vessel and were worried as to how boring it may turn out to be compared to the razzle and dazzle of Singapore

Travel time again!!

This is travelogue season again..

As part of my company training program, have to undertake a vessel ( a ship) tour on any one of the company ships on a specified route, touching atleast three ports of call..

The route i chose ( or rather , had to pick from a few options available) was the Singapore -Kaoshiung - Busan leg of the Asia- Europe 2 service of Maersk Line. I embarked on the vessel '"AP Moller "at Singapore, took four days from SIN to Kaoshiung , a port stay of about 12 hours there and from there a further 2 and a half days to the south korean port of Busan where i diesmbarked.

Took the oppurtunity to do some sight seeing as well. 2 days in Sinapore prior to boarding, one day at busan after dismebarkation and a day and half in seoul , prior to flying back.

Here iam now at singapore's changi international airport, waiting in between flights , roaming around this huge modern complex that is changi and marvelling at its multitude of facilities and comforts for the traveller.

coming back to the trip.. that would be split into 3 blogs ..and described further in detail.... one for Singapore, one for the sailing and one for South Korea.... and all three dedicated to Sara, my most wonderful colleague from Pakistan , with whom i did the vessel tour, and without whom the tour would have been half as exciting as it was.

My new friends: the Auto drivers of Chennai …

Ask any Chennai-ite, any visitor to Chennai, any tourist, or anybody who has ever had to ride on one of the city’s auto rickshaws and they would tell you that the biggest bane of this misunderstood city are these auto rickshaws and its drivers. Their reckless driving, lack of respect for other road users and their patrons and their fleecing of the customers are as infamous as it gets.

The auto rickshaw is a typical Indian invention of the yesteryears. Small, cheap, low on quality, noisy, polluting and unattractive. An invention for the middle classes. For those people who cant yet afford a car, but who are nevertheless too proud to travel or are hard-pressed for time to travel in the congested and dirty public transport.

The vehicle itself is somewhere in the middle , it rides on three wheels, not yet there as a full fledged 4 wheeler , but presumably higher on the road chain ( a la food chain) over a two wheeler because of having one wheel extra. The auto is a vehicle that has not evolved over time. No body is proud to own an auto, no body dreams to have one parked in their house, there is no ownership value attached to it. Even though thousands patronize it, only hundreds own it and there by reduces the need to innovate and improve them. Do you ever recall seeing a new model auto on the road, except for the brief while when there was an electric powered auto? From time immemorial, these have always yellow and black, looking like an inflated bean and generally giving out the impression of a naughty imp on the road.

The chief patronage for these autos come from people who want to travel short distances quickly and cannot wait for a bus, from college girls who I think have a deep rooted allergy towards public transport, as a means of shuttle to and from the nearest railhead and also from sales personnel like me, who use them to travel to their clients place and back. For the last three months I have been using the auto to commute from office to the various clients spread across the city on a daily basis. There is an auto stand outside my office building and hence I use one of the many autos stationed there. And hence over the last few months have grown accustomed to seeing the same set of auto drivers, using their services and hence end up having a brand new set of friends.

There is one driver, a middle aged chap, for whom I am the consultant for everything in life. He claimed that his mobile phone has been tampered with and was not working and I had to check on that. Closer inspection revealed that the card had to be recharged and for which I had to dole out a 100 rupee advance, which would be adjusted on my subsequent trips in his auto. There is another guy who is a music buff. He plays the FM non stop and the ride on his auto is always a musical experience. There is little to discuss and talk with this guy, since with the din of the songs played one is not able to have a conversation.

Talking of conversations one cannot beat auto driver number 3, a well informed chap who discusses everything from politics, to the high handedness of traffic police, to my nature of work, to ironically the rash driving of two wheelers on the road. You could imagine my surprise when the other day he correctly identified a jazzy car overtaking us as a BMW. Given that there must be only a few of these on the roads in Chennai, this was phenomenal.

Once I took auto driver number 4 to a clients place outside the city limits and came back outside after a couple of hours. I simply forgot this guy and took a cab and returned back to office. 2 days later I use his service again and he politely reminded me that I had left him in the lurch 2 days back. He was far removed from the image of the aggressive, abusive auto driver.

I have noticed that these people are not as bad as they are imagined to be. Give them respect, speak to them politely and these people are as normal as you and me. They are in a thankless job, driving mostly a rented auto and having to share the collections with the owner, always being suspected of being rogue, of being cheats and pilloried about by the public and the police alike. Add to that the high fuel prices and a paralyzing traffic to negotiate, life is not easy.

But as long as these people run amok on the roads and charge a million bucks for a short distance, they would always be viewed as the villains. In the fast paced life that we are in, this crazed little three wheeler and its lords would always be seen as necessary evils

Back to Front: From Back office to being on the streets

It has been 2 months since I have taken up the sales profile. It has been 2 months since I have updated a blog.

Coincidence? No, it is pure cause and effect.

Sales in shipping is interesting/ funny/ quirky and very hectic.. Here is a low down on the 4 Ps of shipping sales as I see it.

Product:

I sell space... And no I am not talking of real estate .Selling space on a 2000 Teu (1 twenty foot long container = 1twenty foot equivalent unit = 1 teu) vessel, in the form of aluminum/ steel containers is more like it. The containers could be 20 feet or 40 feet long, sometime they go the extra mile...or rather feet and are 45 feet long. They could be refrigerated or open at the top (no, not for rainwater harvesting).They could be collapsible or could be opened out into Flat racks.

Place:

Perhaps about 95 percent of the forwarding market in Chennai is located in the Parrys/ Broadway area of the town. This area is the business district of Madras for the old world industries. The lanes where these offices are located are incredibly narrow. Everything from monster trucks to Mercedes Benz cars, from cycle rickshaws to the omni present auto rickshaws ply on these lanes. Add to that a temple, a mosque, couple of schools and innumerable numbers of small and big shops and you have the most congested streets of Chennai. The way the buildings are packed close to one another would be an urban planner’s nightmare. In spite of all this, this is the heart of the shipping industry. Business running into crores of rupees is generated daily in these narrow streets. It is on these streets that a salesman like me spends the major part of the week, calling in on various forwarders and selling space.

Price:

It’s a cut throat market. Brand works only to an extent and rates keep falling daily. What was accepted as the ‘best rate’ a week back is now the ‘tariff rate’. There are innumerable sectors across the world and inland destinations where the cargo is bound for. Rates are as fickle as the English weather and so keeping tab of them across the varied spectrum is a tough ask. The forwarders are basically brokers and so getting hold of their loyalty is very tough. A few dollars less is all it takes for you to lose biz and you won’t even realize it.

Promotion:

Well, if I was selling soaps maybe my company would have roped in a few actresses to be the brand ambassadors. Heck even male actors sell soaps nowadays. Or if we were making drinkable pesticides we could have got the top heroes to feel incredibly proud drinking them and shout from the rooftops saying so. I also could have got in the cricketers, the TV actors, the models, got a full page ad in the Times of India and get 15 second ad spot during prime time. But the question is for selling container space what kind of promotion do I do?

Would the Big B be interested to come on screen and say … “Chennai to Felixstowe... 20 footer at just 775 dollars subj to all add-ons... valid till Feb 28 06 at a transit of 18 days Make use of this never before opportunity and do those bookings” ?? Or could I get Shahrukh to dance on a maersk vessel preferably on top of a reefer container and say... “The maximum number of reefer plugs... only on Maersk “?? Don’t think so...

So I restrict myself to full page ads on shipping times, read by only the shipping community. And for such a price sensitive market, ad or no ad does not make much of a difference.

With these lopsided Ps and an unrelenting Chennai heat to boot, am out on the streets. Its fun, it is interesting and it’s a world away from the confines of a cozy, lazy back office. And am lovin it.

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..