While returning from US in early October 2010 as I flipped through the latest issue of TIME magazine in the boring and lengthy 9 hours leg between London’s Heathrow terminal and Bangalore, I chanced upon the article ‘The new science of fetal origins,’ researched and written by Annie Murphy Paul. It explores the life as a fetus: besides the nutrients that the mom supplied through her own good or bad dietary habits, which played a significant role in the health at a later age in life; this article explores the stress level and the state of mind the mother eventually unknowingly transferred to her yet-to-be-born.
According to the article in TIME magazine dated 4th October 2010, Mathew Gillman, a professor of population medicine at Harvard University launched project Viva – a study tracking more than 2,000 Boston area children since they were fetuses. Another set of results will be available in the year 2012 from mothers and children aged 21 on a voluntary study being conducted to understand the gestational factors in brain development.
This relatively new subject, known as fetal origins claims that the 9 months of gestation is how the mom influences the wiring of the brain and the functioning of the organs. There is a frightening similarity to what has been explained in the epic Mahabharata – the chapter that dwells on Arjuna’s explanation in detail about the array of battle formations, complete with individual and unique technique of attacking and escaping to his wife Subhadra, who was then carrying little Abhimanyu in her womb. Apparently, Arjuna stopped narrating when he discovered that Subhadra had dozed midway during his explanation of breaking the battle formation: Chakravyuha. Not knowing the escape technique proved fatal for the young warrior Abhimanyu who was cordoned off by six Maharathis defying and breaking all the established war rules.
It would be interesting to note that the scientific dating of the Mahabharata war has been established by Dr. P V Vartak, a scholar from Pune. By using astronomical references he has derived the date as 16th October 5561 BC. Circa 2010: 7,571 years later TIME magazine publishes an article that goes on to prove the already known fact stated by sage Veda Vyasa eons ago. It is a foregone conclusion that in the past, Astronomy and Mathematics were far more advanced than what we have believed. The recordings by sage Veda Vyasa of presence of Saturn, Uranus and Pluto, their orbit around the sun, their relative position to earth bears testimony to this fact.
More recently, I watched with fascination the six-part serial ‘Ancient Aliens’ that first made an appearance in the History channel. The 1935 born Swiss author Erich Von Daniken, best known for his hypothesis that human culture in the ancient times have been influenced by extra-terrestrial is prominently featured in this television series. Daniken’s first book ‘Chariots of the Gods’ was a best seller in US, Europe and in India; his books have been translated in more than 30 languages and have sold more than 60 million copies worldwide. While he claims visitations by aliens having the know-how of vastly superior technology, the historical artifacts that he uses to prove his hypothesis is clearly not established. His explanation of the superior technology used to erect gigantic prehistoric monuments across the world, namely the Giza pyramids in Egypt, Stonehenge located in the English county Wiltshire, Piri Reis Map is quite convincing that the accuracy with which the monuments were built and the maps drawn, surpassed the tools and measuring equipments available at that time. The Piri Reis map is indeed mysterious as it contains a precise representation of the coasts of Antarctica, a continent unknown at that point in time. Such a map could have been drawn during the mythical Atlantis days or were drawn from pictures taken from the sky, by satellites, aircraft's or spaceships some 15,000 years back. This map known after the Turkish Admiral Piri Reis is actually just a fragment of the original map drawn on gazelle skin.
Using the hydrocarbon dating technique the monument building of the Stonehenge site began in 3100 BC and ended around 1600 BC. A debate still exists whether the Stonehenge was constructed based on a religious belief or as a scientific observatory. There is a strong belief that the site was created to commemorate the solstices – an astronomical event that takes place twice each year when the position of the sun moves to the northernmost or southernmost end. For half the year the northern hemisphere of earth is inclined towards the sun with the maximum inclination occurring on 21st June. Likewise for the other half of the year the southern hemisphere is inclined towards the sun with the maximum inclination occurring on 21st December. In the Hindu calendar the two solstices are named Makara Sankranti (January 14) which marks the start of Uttarayana and Karkata Sankranti (July 14) which marks the start of Dhaksinayana.
The Hindu calendar descends from the Vedic times and many references have been found in the Vedas. The Vedas are amongst the oldest sacred texts and dates back to the late Bronze Age – early Iron Age; 1500 BCE (Before Common Era). It is interesting to note that the Mayan calendar dates back to 5th century BCE and is believed to be amongst the most sophisticated, well documented and widely understood. This unique civilization in the western hemisphere flourished from 2000 BC to 900 AD with the period 250 BC to 900 AD being devoted to building impressive monuments and temples. During this period the Mayans made astonishing discoveries in mathematics and astronomy. The No. 1 amongst the Mayan architecture is the temple: Chichen Itza. The design of this temple has special astronomical significance. The four corners of the base is a true match to the sunrise and sunset positions of the summer and winter solstices. What is amazing is this was precisely built during the period when there were no measuring instruments and compass to show the direction. Each face of this pyramid Chichen Itza has a stairway with 91 steps, which together with the shared step at the very top add up to 365, the number of days in a calendar year.
The Great Pyramids of Giza, one among the seven wonders of the ancient world constructed over a 20 year period around 2560 BC has been built on such a precise location that a deep knowledge of mathematics and geometry was necessary, something that never existed. More intriguing is the comparison between the three pyramids and the three belt stars in Orion constellation. There is a striking resemblance: three stars in the middle of the Orion constellation, diagonally with one star deviating and three pyramids also with one deviating from the diagonal. The relative positions of the stars and the pyramids match each other perfectly.
While Von Daniken’s theory of alien influence over mankind in the past can sound far fetched and perhaps preposterous, it does leave more questions in the mind about the vastly superior knowledge of our forefathers in the fields of mathematics, astronomy, geometry and precision engineering. It is indeed amazing to learn how the human brain, if channeled correctly, is capable of delving into the complexities of laws governing the formation of this Universe, be it in any era. One just needs to have the curiosity and urge to seek knowledge. The fact that our ancestors were able to do so with pinpoint accuracy tells us how much more focused and superior they were to us. Are we willing to learn?
Cheers!!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Freedom from Defects..
How would you feel if each time you present a ‘Self’ cheque for Rs. 1,000 at your bank, the teller hands you Rs. 998? Unhappy! Anger or just despair and without a whimper accept the cash before walking away from the counter. Come on, how you can be so unfair in your demand of 100% Quality when you at your job are barely able to meet your contractual service levels?
Let’s look at another example: You have booked yourself in Island Express from Bangalore to Trichy. For those of you who may not be aware, in my good old college days in the late 70's, this train would get split in Erode Junction with one half getting attached to the train going to Trivandrum from Chennai and the other part proceeding to Trichy with another Link. What if you woke up in the morning and found yourself in Trivandrum instead of Trichy. The gangman who is responsible to split the carriages at Erode Junction obviously made a small mistake. How would you feel? I am sure this would be akin to a horror dream! The Indian Railways don’t talk about their record of transporting millions of passengers to their respective destination – not one mistake in their 150 year history, of the right train reaching the wrong destination.
One last example: You wake up in the morning (evening for our friends in the BPO industry) and before you finish brushing your teeth, your mom, wife or sister is ready with a hot cup of coffee or tea and a smile, perhaps. Remember, she is providing the service anticipating your need, while you haven’t even made a demand for it!! How would it feel if she does not do it?
These are a few ‘taken for granted’ examples of defects free service being provided and Wow – we don’t even appreciate it. This is exactly what each of your end customer is expecting out of you.
I am reminded of the following story doing the usual rounds in the internet. Believe me, this is a perfect example of how it is all within us to make this shift in our minds to deliver services, ‘defects free’:
One evening a scholar was addressing the participants on the concept of work culture. One of the participants asked the following question:
"I am a senior manager of Materials Department and I joined an organization 25 years ago as an Engineer Trainee and over the last 25 years I have gone through every experience in the organization.
During the initial part of my career, the job was very challenging and interesting.
However, all those exciting days are gone since I do not find my job any more interesting because there is nothing new in my job. I am now feeling bored because I am doing a routine job.
However, Sir, I am living in the same house for over forty years, I am the son for the same parents for over forty years, I am the father for the same children for the past ten years and the husband for the same lady for the past twenty years!
In these personal roles I do not feel bored. Please tell me why I am bored of the routine in the office and not in the house?"
The response from Scholar was very interesting and convincing. He asked the executive a question:
"Please tell me for whom does your Mother cook?"
The executive replied that obviously the mother cooks for others.
Then the Scholar said that the mother "Serves" others and because of this service mindedness, she is not feeling tired or bored. But in an office, we "Work" and not "Serve". Anything we consider, as service will not make us feel bored. That is difference between Serving and Working.
He asked the executive to consider his work as service and not merely a work!! This was a very interesting analysis!! Whenever you put a larger context around your work and see a broader meaning for your work, you will take interest in your work and it will make a very big difference in your internal energy.
Attitude Matters!!!
If you think you are working for the organization you will get frustrated. If you feel you are doing a service and getting some service charges you will feel happy.
After all - doing what you like is freedom but liking what you do is happiness!
It is just a paradigm shift that is required! Try this once – you will be amazed to discover your own potential.
Cheers and Best Wishes!!
Let’s look at another example: You have booked yourself in Island Express from Bangalore to Trichy. For those of you who may not be aware, in my good old college days in the late 70's, this train would get split in Erode Junction with one half getting attached to the train going to Trivandrum from Chennai and the other part proceeding to Trichy with another Link. What if you woke up in the morning and found yourself in Trivandrum instead of Trichy. The gangman who is responsible to split the carriages at Erode Junction obviously made a small mistake. How would you feel? I am sure this would be akin to a horror dream! The Indian Railways don’t talk about their record of transporting millions of passengers to their respective destination – not one mistake in their 150 year history, of the right train reaching the wrong destination.
One last example: You wake up in the morning (evening for our friends in the BPO industry) and before you finish brushing your teeth, your mom, wife or sister is ready with a hot cup of coffee or tea and a smile, perhaps. Remember, she is providing the service anticipating your need, while you haven’t even made a demand for it!! How would it feel if she does not do it?
These are a few ‘taken for granted’ examples of defects free service being provided and Wow – we don’t even appreciate it. This is exactly what each of your end customer is expecting out of you.
I am reminded of the following story doing the usual rounds in the internet. Believe me, this is a perfect example of how it is all within us to make this shift in our minds to deliver services, ‘defects free’:
One evening a scholar was addressing the participants on the concept of work culture. One of the participants asked the following question:
"I am a senior manager of Materials Department and I joined an organization 25 years ago as an Engineer Trainee and over the last 25 years I have gone through every experience in the organization.
During the initial part of my career, the job was very challenging and interesting.
However, all those exciting days are gone since I do not find my job any more interesting because there is nothing new in my job. I am now feeling bored because I am doing a routine job.
However, Sir, I am living in the same house for over forty years, I am the son for the same parents for over forty years, I am the father for the same children for the past ten years and the husband for the same lady for the past twenty years!
In these personal roles I do not feel bored. Please tell me why I am bored of the routine in the office and not in the house?"
The response from Scholar was very interesting and convincing. He asked the executive a question:
"Please tell me for whom does your Mother cook?"
The executive replied that obviously the mother cooks for others.
Then the Scholar said that the mother "Serves" others and because of this service mindedness, she is not feeling tired or bored. But in an office, we "Work" and not "Serve". Anything we consider, as service will not make us feel bored. That is difference between Serving and Working.
He asked the executive to consider his work as service and not merely a work!! This was a very interesting analysis!! Whenever you put a larger context around your work and see a broader meaning for your work, you will take interest in your work and it will make a very big difference in your internal energy.
Attitude Matters!!!
If you think you are working for the organization you will get frustrated. If you feel you are doing a service and getting some service charges you will feel happy.
After all - doing what you like is freedom but liking what you do is happiness!
It is just a paradigm shift that is required! Try this once – you will be amazed to discover your own potential.
Cheers and Best Wishes!!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Bus Day...
For once it was good fun not driving my car into the city! Thanks to Bangalore Metro Rail Corp Ltd. the entire stretch of Kanakapura road between Konankunte cross-road and Banashankari bus stand has been converted to a construction zone or a war zone to be more precise. The construction islands created by BMRCL by putting up artificial metallic barricades to carry out uninterrupted pile foundation work has taken away a good 75% of the road surface which was once available for the unending number of 2, 3, 4, 6 and 10 wheelers plying on this road. The narrow stretch left over on either side can only allow a self regulating single file of vehicular traffic much like the way ants behave while moving from point A to B. The recent incessant rains, doing a catch-up of sorts after playing truant at the beginning of the monsoon season, have only made it worse. With nowhere to flow, the stagnant puddles make the surrounding mud slushy and with each heavy vehicle passing over it, this small puddle deepens into a cavity before becoming a crater making the craters on the surface of moon pale in comparison. With rain water filling these craters, it is quite impossible for the first time users of this road to gauge the depth and they end up going either too rapidly through the pothole splashing the muddy slush on innocent pedestrians or too slow in their attempt to be cautious and end up becoming a speed-breaker to the vehicles following them. The determination to sit on the horn only intensifies; adding decibels to the general cacophony.
Interestingly, city of London did the honors by operating the world’s first underground suburban metro link in the year 1863. With multi layers of tracks criss crossing the city, it is the second largest urban metro after Shanghai Metro with 400 KM route length and serves 270 stations. While it is popularly known as ‘The Tube’, more than 55% of its route is over ground. Our very own ‘Namma Metro’ is scheduled to commence commercial run in December 2010 between Baiyappanahalli and MG Road. With just 20% of the track underground, ‘Namma Metro’ cannot be compared to ‘The Tube’ in any which way. While 42 KM of the route length will be fully operational by December 2011, it is estimated that by 2014 our city will boast a total length of 111 KM of track, still a far cry from the existing 400 KM within London. The routing is on the North-South and East-West corridor more like a diameter connecting the gigantic ring road on the periphery of this ever ballooning city. Come to think of it, we are roughly 150 years behind London Underground.
Running a slight temperature and all my joints groaning with pain, I decided to take a bus to Yediyur lake to attend to a family function on Thursday last week. Earlier during the day I had applied for a day off from the daily grind at office to relax and recoup from my brief illness. With the bus stand just a 2-minute walking distance from where I live, I found hopping onto a bus at 12:30 PM in the afternoon a cake-walk. I was even able to get a seat to park myself for the entire journey that lasted a good 45 minutes. There is a big difference between sitting behind the driving wheel and sitting on a back bench in a rickety contraption called ‘bus’ operated by BMTC – Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corp. Sitting high above the road surface, one gets a vantage view of the surroundings which is quite different from the confined tunnel vision while driving a car. I was able to observe quite a few things that would not have been otherwise visible in case I was driving and I found this a pleasant change. I was able to see quite a few workers sleeping in the islands created by BMRCL on stacked steel plates meant for construction purpose, quite oblivious of what was happening in the surroundings. It was a wonder how one could sleep amidst all the honking, the clutter and the noise from the construction drilling and pile driving machines. Well, if the erstwhile Prime Minister of India could be caught snoring in the Parliament when his fellow colleagues ran to the well of the house under the slightest pretext to shout slogans and throw missiles at each other, I guess lesser mortals like us should be excused in case we try and catch up with a power nap during our endless meetings!!
With the horrendous rattling noise inside the rickety bus as it inched along the crater ridden Kanakapura road, I found it pretty strange to see almost all the passengers sporting a cell phone; not just sporting it but also quite busy talking into the instrument. Strange, because I wonder how they could hear the other person above the din of the moving bus; leave alone the external noise that kept sailing in from all known directions. To make themselves heard they were shouting on top of their voice much to the irritation of their fellow passenger. At best they could probably hear each other talk and not make out what the person at the distant end was saying; this was my firm conclusion. It was a comical sight when the conductor came around for tickets; fellow passengers ignored him under the pretext of using their cell phone. This only helped in earning his wrath. The conductor got into an endless tirade against usage of phones in the bus, but during one of his quieter moments when all passengers had been issued their respective tickets, we too spotted him using his cell phone. One of the passengers was so engrossed in his phone conversation that he missed getting down at his scheduled stop and no amount of pleas helped make the driver make an unscheduled stop. The conductor was having his last laugh and suggested that he talk his way back from the next stop. ‘Serves him right’ he was found to be mumbling.
Not satisfied with the din and bustle inside the bus, there was one bright guy playing songs on his mobile and quite loudly at that. It was funny to note that he also had his ear phones on. I mustered some courage to ask what the logic in having the ear phones was and also play through the speakers. With a cold glare that I got for my question, I decided for myself that I must confine my questioning within the four walls of my home or at the office, lest I get clobbered for being nosy. While it was quite irritating to see my immediate neighbor blowing large bubbles with his bubble gum, I decided to keep mum and not act brave by commenting or asking him some crazy question; my mind was behaving like a streaming video. Lost in our own thoughts, a sudden brake jolted us out of our respective dreams. A quick peep and we realized that a bevy of ladies had crossed the street unmindful of the chaotic traffic and almost landing below the wheels of another onrushing vehicle from behind, hell bent on overtaking our bus. Looks like people train themselves to be focused when it comes to spotting a public transport. Much like the way Arjuna of the Panch Pandavas fame told his teacher Dronacharya when asked about what he saw, when he had positioned an arrow on his bow and was taking aim, ‘I can see the object’. No wonder our folks fail to exercise caution when they spot a bus; their focus turns to getting in at any or all cost. Seldom do they watch out for their personal safety.
Further down I spotted a fairly senior couple trying to cross the road. From their behavior it seemed obvious that they had returned from a foreign land. They would take a hesitant step thinking that it was time to step forward and then an oncoming vehicle with its horns on full blast would make them quickly retreat. The bus in which I was traveling was stationary and I was able to observe their adventure or should we say misadventure. Finally the lady, more pragmatic between the two, started giving instructions much to the irritation of the husband who was finding difficulty combining his feet movement with his thought process. At this time, our bus started moving and I will never know how the couple managed to cross! However, one thing is for sure; eventually every wife with time begins to behave more like a mother to their husbands – the continuous stream of instructions on the dos and don’ts never seem to cease. I myself kept getting calls from my wife who, of course with very noble intentions and genuine concern was checking whether I had to wait for a long time at the bus stop, did I get the right bus, what was my relative position with respect to each time she called, would I reach the venue in time, did I know the address of the venue so on and so forth. It was a wonder how one could keep such a close track and monitor progress through a series of well intentioned and logical set of questions. It struck me then; perhaps, she might make a better manager than me – with such a meticulous follow-up, virtually nothing could go wrong!!
Indeed, I reached just-in-time as the ‘Blessings’ ceremony was coming to an end and plantain leaves were being neatly arranged for the meal to be served. After a tasty and sumptuous meal my wife and I headed straight home and on the return trip we hopped on to a three wheeler – my wife was right when she said that if its two then an auto works out more cost effective…I thought only I was paranoid about being cost conscious!!
I did enjoy my adventurous outing and given a chance, I will board a BMTC once again without hesitation. It brought memories of my earlier and more energetic days, offered me small pleasures and the freedom to sit and observe which I would never get from the confines of my own car. And, I look forward to the day we can use the Metro to commute to office and back. Only time will tell whether I would have retired by then!!
Cheers!!
Interestingly, city of London did the honors by operating the world’s first underground suburban metro link in the year 1863. With multi layers of tracks criss crossing the city, it is the second largest urban metro after Shanghai Metro with 400 KM route length and serves 270 stations. While it is popularly known as ‘The Tube’, more than 55% of its route is over ground. Our very own ‘Namma Metro’ is scheduled to commence commercial run in December 2010 between Baiyappanahalli and MG Road. With just 20% of the track underground, ‘Namma Metro’ cannot be compared to ‘The Tube’ in any which way. While 42 KM of the route length will be fully operational by December 2011, it is estimated that by 2014 our city will boast a total length of 111 KM of track, still a far cry from the existing 400 KM within London. The routing is on the North-South and East-West corridor more like a diameter connecting the gigantic ring road on the periphery of this ever ballooning city. Come to think of it, we are roughly 150 years behind London Underground.
Running a slight temperature and all my joints groaning with pain, I decided to take a bus to Yediyur lake to attend to a family function on Thursday last week. Earlier during the day I had applied for a day off from the daily grind at office to relax and recoup from my brief illness. With the bus stand just a 2-minute walking distance from where I live, I found hopping onto a bus at 12:30 PM in the afternoon a cake-walk. I was even able to get a seat to park myself for the entire journey that lasted a good 45 minutes. There is a big difference between sitting behind the driving wheel and sitting on a back bench in a rickety contraption called ‘bus’ operated by BMTC – Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corp. Sitting high above the road surface, one gets a vantage view of the surroundings which is quite different from the confined tunnel vision while driving a car. I was able to observe quite a few things that would not have been otherwise visible in case I was driving and I found this a pleasant change. I was able to see quite a few workers sleeping in the islands created by BMRCL on stacked steel plates meant for construction purpose, quite oblivious of what was happening in the surroundings. It was a wonder how one could sleep amidst all the honking, the clutter and the noise from the construction drilling and pile driving machines. Well, if the erstwhile Prime Minister of India could be caught snoring in the Parliament when his fellow colleagues ran to the well of the house under the slightest pretext to shout slogans and throw missiles at each other, I guess lesser mortals like us should be excused in case we try and catch up with a power nap during our endless meetings!!
With the horrendous rattling noise inside the rickety bus as it inched along the crater ridden Kanakapura road, I found it pretty strange to see almost all the passengers sporting a cell phone; not just sporting it but also quite busy talking into the instrument. Strange, because I wonder how they could hear the other person above the din of the moving bus; leave alone the external noise that kept sailing in from all known directions. To make themselves heard they were shouting on top of their voice much to the irritation of their fellow passenger. At best they could probably hear each other talk and not make out what the person at the distant end was saying; this was my firm conclusion. It was a comical sight when the conductor came around for tickets; fellow passengers ignored him under the pretext of using their cell phone. This only helped in earning his wrath. The conductor got into an endless tirade against usage of phones in the bus, but during one of his quieter moments when all passengers had been issued their respective tickets, we too spotted him using his cell phone. One of the passengers was so engrossed in his phone conversation that he missed getting down at his scheduled stop and no amount of pleas helped make the driver make an unscheduled stop. The conductor was having his last laugh and suggested that he talk his way back from the next stop. ‘Serves him right’ he was found to be mumbling.
Not satisfied with the din and bustle inside the bus, there was one bright guy playing songs on his mobile and quite loudly at that. It was funny to note that he also had his ear phones on. I mustered some courage to ask what the logic in having the ear phones was and also play through the speakers. With a cold glare that I got for my question, I decided for myself that I must confine my questioning within the four walls of my home or at the office, lest I get clobbered for being nosy. While it was quite irritating to see my immediate neighbor blowing large bubbles with his bubble gum, I decided to keep mum and not act brave by commenting or asking him some crazy question; my mind was behaving like a streaming video. Lost in our own thoughts, a sudden brake jolted us out of our respective dreams. A quick peep and we realized that a bevy of ladies had crossed the street unmindful of the chaotic traffic and almost landing below the wheels of another onrushing vehicle from behind, hell bent on overtaking our bus. Looks like people train themselves to be focused when it comes to spotting a public transport. Much like the way Arjuna of the Panch Pandavas fame told his teacher Dronacharya when asked about what he saw, when he had positioned an arrow on his bow and was taking aim, ‘I can see the object’. No wonder our folks fail to exercise caution when they spot a bus; their focus turns to getting in at any or all cost. Seldom do they watch out for their personal safety.
Further down I spotted a fairly senior couple trying to cross the road. From their behavior it seemed obvious that they had returned from a foreign land. They would take a hesitant step thinking that it was time to step forward and then an oncoming vehicle with its horns on full blast would make them quickly retreat. The bus in which I was traveling was stationary and I was able to observe their adventure or should we say misadventure. Finally the lady, more pragmatic between the two, started giving instructions much to the irritation of the husband who was finding difficulty combining his feet movement with his thought process. At this time, our bus started moving and I will never know how the couple managed to cross! However, one thing is for sure; eventually every wife with time begins to behave more like a mother to their husbands – the continuous stream of instructions on the dos and don’ts never seem to cease. I myself kept getting calls from my wife who, of course with very noble intentions and genuine concern was checking whether I had to wait for a long time at the bus stop, did I get the right bus, what was my relative position with respect to each time she called, would I reach the venue in time, did I know the address of the venue so on and so forth. It was a wonder how one could keep such a close track and monitor progress through a series of well intentioned and logical set of questions. It struck me then; perhaps, she might make a better manager than me – with such a meticulous follow-up, virtually nothing could go wrong!!
Indeed, I reached just-in-time as the ‘Blessings’ ceremony was coming to an end and plantain leaves were being neatly arranged for the meal to be served. After a tasty and sumptuous meal my wife and I headed straight home and on the return trip we hopped on to a three wheeler – my wife was right when she said that if its two then an auto works out more cost effective…I thought only I was paranoid about being cost conscious!!
I did enjoy my adventurous outing and given a chance, I will board a BMTC once again without hesitation. It brought memories of my earlier and more energetic days, offered me small pleasures and the freedom to sit and observe which I would never get from the confines of my own car. And, I look forward to the day we can use the Metro to commute to office and back. Only time will tell whether I would have retired by then!!
Cheers!!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Enormity of Scale...
I wonder how many of you while reading the newspaper today gave the small print ‘37.2 mm of rainfall yesterday in Bangalore’ a second thought! Just to give you an idea of scale, just look at the sheer volume of fresh clean potable water and ready for consumption, nature has given us in the short two hours of rainfall: Since it rained all over the city pretty uniformly, we can presume that an area square of 30 KM would have been covered and I am being conservative out here. The total volume of water Mother Nature showered on us works out to a staggering volume of 33,480,000,000 liters (33.5 billion liters).
A typical urban Indian uses on an average 175 liters of water each day. Mother Nature’s bountiful supply of freshwater in less than 2 hours could then support 190 million individuals for a day. With the population of Bangalore at 6.5 million today, this volume of rainwater could support all the people in Bangalore for 29 days – a month, almost!!
Mind blowing, isn’t it? Try computing the figures and the number of days the entire city would have survived in case we had some ways of capturing the entire rainfall during the Year 2005 floods in Bangalore. It is said that the next World War would be fought over water. Mother Nature knows no boundaries and rivers flow in countries small or big, rich or poor and so long as they do not place a barrier in its path, there is plenty for all. In the name of risk mitigation & better utilization and presuming that Mother Nature will behave irrationally, the smarter and mightier nations create artificial barriers in the name of dams and stop the flow to the countries downstream. Like the three primary colors that create a million other hues, water, air and sunlight is the essence for sustaining life on earth and no single individual or a country should lay exclusive claim over this common nectar that supports life of any form.
In case you get a chance to read the chronology of conflicts throughout the world over water, you will note that in almost all the earlier wars fought, military used water as a strategic tool to end a conflict. The Goths gained supremacy in Rome in 6th century AD by cutting all aqueducts leading to the city of Rome. The strategy known as the ‘Dutch Water Line’ and as the name suggests, Dutch used it successfully by flooding the land to break the siege of Spanish troops in the 80 years war in 16th century AD. Tension between India and the erstwhile East Pakistan started developing when India started constructing Farakka Barrage across the river Ganges at the border town between two countries. A thirty years treaty was signed finally in 1996 after three short term treaties were signed between India and the liberated nation of Bangladesh post the 1971 war between India and Pakistan. Dispute between India and Pakistan on the sharing of Indus river water irrigation continues to be a sore thumb even today. While a world Bank led negotiation concluded in 1960 after 12 long years of protracted discussion, each country is quick to blame each other for the vagaries of nature no individual human has a control over but collectively mankind has caused a permanent damage to the environment.
Closer home, the twin states in south who enjoy the waters of river Cauvery during peace times of healthy monsoon activity, are quick to whip-up emotions of hate during a failed monsoon. Come to think of it, ‘hate’ is the strongest of all emotions known and felt. It takes years to build ‘trust’ but a moment to hit the frenzied emotional state of ‘hate’ and this emotion could make a person kill without rationale or even commit suicide. I am sure between two human beings even the end stage of divorce may in all likelihood have begun with ‘love’ at first. As the story of togetherness slowly unfolds, simple acts of jealousy leads to minor skirmishes in a clash of ego, later with fights and then a war of nerves as to who will blink first before reaching the point of ‘no-return’ after a brief period of mayhem. What acts as a tonic in this saga of estranged relationship is the emotion called ‘hate’ and if uncontrolled and allowed to fester, an end to the relationship is the only logical solution.
Our Machiavellian and manipulative politicians know it very well and are quick to exploit the benefits that this four letter word can do to their selfish career to amass a mass following and gainfully horde material wealth that would perhaps last 3 generations beyond theirs. If only they could be a bit magnanimous and work the math on what Mother Nature bountifully gives without having to ask, and work for the betterment of society at large, the world would have been a much better place. It is ridiculous to find politicians fighting over something that is rightfully not theirs. Knowing that we have merely borrowed this planet from our children may hopefully bring a sense of much needed responsibility.
Cheers!!
A typical urban Indian uses on an average 175 liters of water each day. Mother Nature’s bountiful supply of freshwater in less than 2 hours could then support 190 million individuals for a day. With the population of Bangalore at 6.5 million today, this volume of rainwater could support all the people in Bangalore for 29 days – a month, almost!!
Mind blowing, isn’t it? Try computing the figures and the number of days the entire city would have survived in case we had some ways of capturing the entire rainfall during the Year 2005 floods in Bangalore. It is said that the next World War would be fought over water. Mother Nature knows no boundaries and rivers flow in countries small or big, rich or poor and so long as they do not place a barrier in its path, there is plenty for all. In the name of risk mitigation & better utilization and presuming that Mother Nature will behave irrationally, the smarter and mightier nations create artificial barriers in the name of dams and stop the flow to the countries downstream. Like the three primary colors that create a million other hues, water, air and sunlight is the essence for sustaining life on earth and no single individual or a country should lay exclusive claim over this common nectar that supports life of any form.
In case you get a chance to read the chronology of conflicts throughout the world over water, you will note that in almost all the earlier wars fought, military used water as a strategic tool to end a conflict. The Goths gained supremacy in Rome in 6th century AD by cutting all aqueducts leading to the city of Rome. The strategy known as the ‘Dutch Water Line’ and as the name suggests, Dutch used it successfully by flooding the land to break the siege of Spanish troops in the 80 years war in 16th century AD. Tension between India and the erstwhile East Pakistan started developing when India started constructing Farakka Barrage across the river Ganges at the border town between two countries. A thirty years treaty was signed finally in 1996 after three short term treaties were signed between India and the liberated nation of Bangladesh post the 1971 war between India and Pakistan. Dispute between India and Pakistan on the sharing of Indus river water irrigation continues to be a sore thumb even today. While a world Bank led negotiation concluded in 1960 after 12 long years of protracted discussion, each country is quick to blame each other for the vagaries of nature no individual human has a control over but collectively mankind has caused a permanent damage to the environment.
Closer home, the twin states in south who enjoy the waters of river Cauvery during peace times of healthy monsoon activity, are quick to whip-up emotions of hate during a failed monsoon. Come to think of it, ‘hate’ is the strongest of all emotions known and felt. It takes years to build ‘trust’ but a moment to hit the frenzied emotional state of ‘hate’ and this emotion could make a person kill without rationale or even commit suicide. I am sure between two human beings even the end stage of divorce may in all likelihood have begun with ‘love’ at first. As the story of togetherness slowly unfolds, simple acts of jealousy leads to minor skirmishes in a clash of ego, later with fights and then a war of nerves as to who will blink first before reaching the point of ‘no-return’ after a brief period of mayhem. What acts as a tonic in this saga of estranged relationship is the emotion called ‘hate’ and if uncontrolled and allowed to fester, an end to the relationship is the only logical solution.
Our Machiavellian and manipulative politicians know it very well and are quick to exploit the benefits that this four letter word can do to their selfish career to amass a mass following and gainfully horde material wealth that would perhaps last 3 generations beyond theirs. If only they could be a bit magnanimous and work the math on what Mother Nature bountifully gives without having to ask, and work for the betterment of society at large, the world would have been a much better place. It is ridiculous to find politicians fighting over something that is rightfully not theirs. Knowing that we have merely borrowed this planet from our children may hopefully bring a sense of much needed responsibility.
Cheers!!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Sounds of Music!!
At the age of 7 when my father took me to the most well known ‘School of Music’ at Durgapur, I was not sure what instrument he had in his mind that I must learn to play. Neither did I have any choice of an instrument that fascinated me. Music as they say runs in the blood…aha! I wasn’t sure that was the case with me. Honestly, I am sure I couldn’t have copied even a donkey and his fine art of braying, let alone mastering the art of repeatability. Both my elder sisters however were learning vocal under the famous Mrs. Rangan of Durgapur. She had a very strong and distinct south Indian accent when she spoke Hindi – literally speaking a perfect give-away! It became my responsibility to accompany my 2nd sister during her trips to Mrs. Rangan’s house when my eldest sister went out of town for her graduate course in science. With apparently no ear for music, the 60 minutes wait for my sister to complete her classroom training used to seem endless and a torture. Generally afternoon and evening hours were reserved for playing with friends and acquaintances and Durgapur being a sleepy colony town there was no dearth for play grounds. Being stuck at Mrs. Rangan’s house seemed a waste of precious play time. What is amazing however is the way the notes, sahitya and the tune have a stickiness in the mind. Four decades and five years later, I can still recall the tune of songs sung by my sister and it is coming in handy as I learn to play the violin now.
Coming back to my first day at ‘School of Music’, I was led by my father to a tabalchi teacher Shri Moni Das from the Allahabad Gharana and that is where my suspense ended. I was destined to learn Tabla. What struck me as odd was the friendly disposition of my tabla teacher. A teacher is a teacher is a teacher, or so I thought. The mind associated a teacher as someone who would be a task master, giving tons of homework, have a very serious air around them and have no tolerance for erring students. Contrary to my expectations this teacher was, to put it simply, just the opposite. He would shower heaps of praise if I just positioned my hands and fingers correctly on the instrument. His demonstration of joy new no bounds if I struck the notes correctly. It was so enchanting that I just wanted to be repeatedly perfect in the way I held my hands and played the beat. It was that instant recognition that was so gratifying and on hindsight it probably made me want to practice and play more, just to impress. Music or the science of rhythm and beat was just incidental. What was even more exciting was the lack of home work. The next class would be a week later and this would most often be a repeat of what we had learnt earlier. We were allowed to learn at our own pace, something that we couldn’t dream of in our regular classroom. In those impressionable years, I have only fond memories of my attempts at learning to play a percussion instrument.
It continued this way for the next seven years from being a beginner; I appeared for both written and practical exams. What I lacked was the experience in accompanying vocalists. The ‘School of Music’ at Durgapur made us proficient in playing the instrument and they were also quite efficient in making us overcome our stage fright. We were all asked regularly to appear as big teams playing this instrument in unison in front of large to very large gatherings. But when it came to accompanying other musicians and vocalists, we drew a blank. I got accidentally initiated into this by my brother-in-law who is a self taught singer and a harmonium player. With a very keen sense and an ear for music, he would urge me to accompany whenever he played the harmonium or sang light music numbers (film songs of the yester years). This unexpected, yet, a necessary exposure came in extremely handy when I joined the engineering college at Trichy in Tamil Nadu. Students with additional skills especially if it was connected to playing an instrument got instant recognition. They would automatically get initiated into a motley set of budding artists and proudly call themselves as THE college band. It also had some side advantages as one would get ragged less and RE College Trichy was pretty well known when it came to creativity in ragging styles. Although shy by nature, I must admit that I got my fair share of brand recognition. On the graduation day speech, Major Srinivasan, our kind and lovable Training & Placement Officer; he chose to prefix my name with the word ‘Tabla’ and said Tabla Rama Rao believes that all individuals must work hard for themselves. I am not sure I understood the context when Major uttered these words, but the words were indeed absolutely prophetic! I couldn’t have found a better mission statement that would describe me, myself and I, in a more apt manner, without the prefix, of course.
Incidentally and for some odd reason I have never been known by my first name. My title Rao has got stuck with me amongst my friends and colleagues + clients as well. The only person who used to call me by my full name was my grandmother. My wife has settled for an abridged version and addresses me as Vish, her Wish I guess! When my engineering career took me to Mumbai in 1982, I developed a close circle of friends in Kannada Association at their club premises located in Matunga near the well known landmark, ‘King’s Circle’. I got together with a few like minded folks and we formed a troupe of sorts. We started with group songs with yours truly playing the tabla. We even experimented with a few skits but they invariably ended in a disaster. What we considered humor was disdainfully looked upon as a serious attempt at slapstick. However, Kannada folk music was a big hit and we stuck to it much like the way a drowning person would hold on to a twig in the ocean to stay afloat. With continuous practice, we even got a bit famous in the circle of light music lovers and were invited to record for a small fifteen minute program in All India Radio’s Bombay ‘B’ service. I continued my association with a similar Kannada Sangha when I moved to Calcutta in September 1983 and associated with an active group out there. However, the Calcutta unit wasn’t as active or progressive as the Bombay Sangha and my visits to these places dwindled with time. So were my skills at playing tabla. Without practice and encouragement any art however well learnt can eventually fade into oblivion.
To a small but limited extent, it was rekindled and revived when I was asked to accompany a large group of vocalists during Rang Tarang after joining HTMT. I was encouraged when our friends from US came on their annual visit and we had cobbled a team to sing a few popular group songs in an in-house entertainment program. Like in the college I discovered that having some additional skills made a person stand apart from the masses however small or big, whether a teaching institution or an organization. While the urge was always strong to learn an additional instrument, I had not conjured enough courage to search for a teacher or decided on an instrument to dabble in this fine art. During a casual conversation with Madhu, I mentioned to him that if I were to get an opportunity to learn play the violin, I would make a serious attempt, however late in life. Madhu, who is always the adventurous kind and with an ever willing attitude to learn and master new subjects responded saying he would come back to me in case he found a good teacher closer home. He did come back a couple of months later and excitedly told me that he had found a very good teacher; someone who had taught for a long time, first in Chennai and then in Singapore before deciding to make Bangalore her home. On 25th November 2009, Madhu introduced me to his teacher Ms. Venkatalashmi, who is an accomplished violinist with a distinguished career as an artist and now a teacher.
I am sure she was skeptical when I met her for the first time, whether I would be willing to commit the time on a regular basis to learn the instrument. Violin is by far the most difficult instrument to play as there are no frets to stop the string. One has to intuitively feel the way with the left hand to arrive at the correct position to play the note through practice and ear training. Combined with the bow movement which runs perpendicular to the movement of fingers on the finger board, it takes a while for the brain to figure out what’s happening and what instructions to give each of the hands and fingers. I was all over the place when I started learning and am sure it must have been a pretty comical sight. Beginners sometimes rely on tapes placed on the fingerboard for finger placement, but usually abandon the tapes as they advance. Another commonly used marking technique uses the white marker, which wears off in a few weeks of regular practice. My violin teacher helped me by using a white ink marker and thankfully traces of it still remain on the finger board guiding me the relative positions to play each note. While a percussion instrument like the tabla can at best be an accompaniment, music from a stringed instrument like the violin can act as a close substitute to a vocalist. It can produce the same variations that any vocalist can do with their trained voice. While the South Indian violin is almost identical to the Western violin, it differs from it in tuning and playing position. It is traditionally played, sitting cross-legged, with the scroll placed on the player’s right ankle and the back of the violin resting on the player’s left shoulder. This position gives freedom to the left hand to play Indian Musical Gamaka or pulsating rhythm.
While all of these details sound nice on paper, practically holding the violin between the left shoulder and right ankle, and placing the bow close to the bridge to bring out the best quality of sound can be an enormous challenge. Pressing the bow very hard on the string can produce a very harsh cracking sound while gliding it softly on the string produces a very feeble sound. One needs to find the right balance of pressure and smooth glide. The bow is typically 75 cm in length and has a ribbon of white horsehair and needs a firm rubbing with rosin to make it grip the string intermittently causing them to vibrate. Another big challenge is to move the bow in a manner that it connects with only one string at a time. The dos and don’ts can indeed be mind blowing.
While I had bravely joined the class and also went ahead and bought myself a fairly expensive violin, I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to cope up with the daily grind and the lessons. I even went to the extent of asking my teacher whether I, at the age of 51 could still indulge in learning this fine art; not just holding the instrument in its correct position but also produce sounds of music. It was music to my ears when she grandly stated that she had a few accomplished violinists while at Singapore and these students had started to learn at the age of 70! It gave me the much needed courage and I am glad that I continued to practice under the teachers trained eyes and ears. It used to be an effort to play the seven swaras in the beginning and with a childlike enthusiasm I would ask my wife and boys to sit and hear me play the seven notes. By itself these seven notes does not constitute music, but the fact that such unending permutation and combination of swaras can create such enchanting music is unfathomable until one gets a chance to dabble in them. Ten months into my lessons, I am now able to play a few beginners’ bhajans with fewer mistakes and my music loving family, my wife is an accomplished vocalist in Hindustani style, my elder son is a keyboard player and my second son is a fine tabalchi, do not have second thoughts when I call them to listen while I play. To me, that is a big endorsement and I am grateful to them for their patience and endurance!
Cheers!!
Coming back to my first day at ‘School of Music’, I was led by my father to a tabalchi teacher Shri Moni Das from the Allahabad Gharana and that is where my suspense ended. I was destined to learn Tabla. What struck me as odd was the friendly disposition of my tabla teacher. A teacher is a teacher is a teacher, or so I thought. The mind associated a teacher as someone who would be a task master, giving tons of homework, have a very serious air around them and have no tolerance for erring students. Contrary to my expectations this teacher was, to put it simply, just the opposite. He would shower heaps of praise if I just positioned my hands and fingers correctly on the instrument. His demonstration of joy new no bounds if I struck the notes correctly. It was so enchanting that I just wanted to be repeatedly perfect in the way I held my hands and played the beat. It was that instant recognition that was so gratifying and on hindsight it probably made me want to practice and play more, just to impress. Music or the science of rhythm and beat was just incidental. What was even more exciting was the lack of home work. The next class would be a week later and this would most often be a repeat of what we had learnt earlier. We were allowed to learn at our own pace, something that we couldn’t dream of in our regular classroom. In those impressionable years, I have only fond memories of my attempts at learning to play a percussion instrument.
It continued this way for the next seven years from being a beginner; I appeared for both written and practical exams. What I lacked was the experience in accompanying vocalists. The ‘School of Music’ at Durgapur made us proficient in playing the instrument and they were also quite efficient in making us overcome our stage fright. We were all asked regularly to appear as big teams playing this instrument in unison in front of large to very large gatherings. But when it came to accompanying other musicians and vocalists, we drew a blank. I got accidentally initiated into this by my brother-in-law who is a self taught singer and a harmonium player. With a very keen sense and an ear for music, he would urge me to accompany whenever he played the harmonium or sang light music numbers (film songs of the yester years). This unexpected, yet, a necessary exposure came in extremely handy when I joined the engineering college at Trichy in Tamil Nadu. Students with additional skills especially if it was connected to playing an instrument got instant recognition. They would automatically get initiated into a motley set of budding artists and proudly call themselves as THE college band. It also had some side advantages as one would get ragged less and RE College Trichy was pretty well known when it came to creativity in ragging styles. Although shy by nature, I must admit that I got my fair share of brand recognition. On the graduation day speech, Major Srinivasan, our kind and lovable Training & Placement Officer; he chose to prefix my name with the word ‘Tabla’ and said Tabla Rama Rao believes that all individuals must work hard for themselves. I am not sure I understood the context when Major uttered these words, but the words were indeed absolutely prophetic! I couldn’t have found a better mission statement that would describe me, myself and I, in a more apt manner, without the prefix, of course.
Incidentally and for some odd reason I have never been known by my first name. My title Rao has got stuck with me amongst my friends and colleagues + clients as well. The only person who used to call me by my full name was my grandmother. My wife has settled for an abridged version and addresses me as Vish, her Wish I guess! When my engineering career took me to Mumbai in 1982, I developed a close circle of friends in Kannada Association at their club premises located in Matunga near the well known landmark, ‘King’s Circle’. I got together with a few like minded folks and we formed a troupe of sorts. We started with group songs with yours truly playing the tabla. We even experimented with a few skits but they invariably ended in a disaster. What we considered humor was disdainfully looked upon as a serious attempt at slapstick. However, Kannada folk music was a big hit and we stuck to it much like the way a drowning person would hold on to a twig in the ocean to stay afloat. With continuous practice, we even got a bit famous in the circle of light music lovers and were invited to record for a small fifteen minute program in All India Radio’s Bombay ‘B’ service. I continued my association with a similar Kannada Sangha when I moved to Calcutta in September 1983 and associated with an active group out there. However, the Calcutta unit wasn’t as active or progressive as the Bombay Sangha and my visits to these places dwindled with time. So were my skills at playing tabla. Without practice and encouragement any art however well learnt can eventually fade into oblivion.
To a small but limited extent, it was rekindled and revived when I was asked to accompany a large group of vocalists during Rang Tarang after joining HTMT. I was encouraged when our friends from US came on their annual visit and we had cobbled a team to sing a few popular group songs in an in-house entertainment program. Like in the college I discovered that having some additional skills made a person stand apart from the masses however small or big, whether a teaching institution or an organization. While the urge was always strong to learn an additional instrument, I had not conjured enough courage to search for a teacher or decided on an instrument to dabble in this fine art. During a casual conversation with Madhu, I mentioned to him that if I were to get an opportunity to learn play the violin, I would make a serious attempt, however late in life. Madhu, who is always the adventurous kind and with an ever willing attitude to learn and master new subjects responded saying he would come back to me in case he found a good teacher closer home. He did come back a couple of months later and excitedly told me that he had found a very good teacher; someone who had taught for a long time, first in Chennai and then in Singapore before deciding to make Bangalore her home. On 25th November 2009, Madhu introduced me to his teacher Ms. Venkatalashmi, who is an accomplished violinist with a distinguished career as an artist and now a teacher.
I am sure she was skeptical when I met her for the first time, whether I would be willing to commit the time on a regular basis to learn the instrument. Violin is by far the most difficult instrument to play as there are no frets to stop the string. One has to intuitively feel the way with the left hand to arrive at the correct position to play the note through practice and ear training. Combined with the bow movement which runs perpendicular to the movement of fingers on the finger board, it takes a while for the brain to figure out what’s happening and what instructions to give each of the hands and fingers. I was all over the place when I started learning and am sure it must have been a pretty comical sight. Beginners sometimes rely on tapes placed on the fingerboard for finger placement, but usually abandon the tapes as they advance. Another commonly used marking technique uses the white marker, which wears off in a few weeks of regular practice. My violin teacher helped me by using a white ink marker and thankfully traces of it still remain on the finger board guiding me the relative positions to play each note. While a percussion instrument like the tabla can at best be an accompaniment, music from a stringed instrument like the violin can act as a close substitute to a vocalist. It can produce the same variations that any vocalist can do with their trained voice. While the South Indian violin is almost identical to the Western violin, it differs from it in tuning and playing position. It is traditionally played, sitting cross-legged, with the scroll placed on the player’s right ankle and the back of the violin resting on the player’s left shoulder. This position gives freedom to the left hand to play Indian Musical Gamaka or pulsating rhythm.
While all of these details sound nice on paper, practically holding the violin between the left shoulder and right ankle, and placing the bow close to the bridge to bring out the best quality of sound can be an enormous challenge. Pressing the bow very hard on the string can produce a very harsh cracking sound while gliding it softly on the string produces a very feeble sound. One needs to find the right balance of pressure and smooth glide. The bow is typically 75 cm in length and has a ribbon of white horsehair and needs a firm rubbing with rosin to make it grip the string intermittently causing them to vibrate. Another big challenge is to move the bow in a manner that it connects with only one string at a time. The dos and don’ts can indeed be mind blowing.
While I had bravely joined the class and also went ahead and bought myself a fairly expensive violin, I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to cope up with the daily grind and the lessons. I even went to the extent of asking my teacher whether I, at the age of 51 could still indulge in learning this fine art; not just holding the instrument in its correct position but also produce sounds of music. It was music to my ears when she grandly stated that she had a few accomplished violinists while at Singapore and these students had started to learn at the age of 70! It gave me the much needed courage and I am glad that I continued to practice under the teachers trained eyes and ears. It used to be an effort to play the seven swaras in the beginning and with a childlike enthusiasm I would ask my wife and boys to sit and hear me play the seven notes. By itself these seven notes does not constitute music, but the fact that such unending permutation and combination of swaras can create such enchanting music is unfathomable until one gets a chance to dabble in them. Ten months into my lessons, I am now able to play a few beginners’ bhajans with fewer mistakes and my music loving family, my wife is an accomplished vocalist in Hindustani style, my elder son is a keyboard player and my second son is a fine tabalchi, do not have second thoughts when I call them to listen while I play. To me, that is a big endorsement and I am grateful to them for their patience and endurance!
Cheers!!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Just-in-Time...
This is not one of those run-of-the mill stories of mine about my airline experiences. It has a twist - like the pleasant twist in O'Henry's short stories at the end of his narratives. My real life experience with Malaysian Airlines was out of this world - Hats off to their staff at Manila airport for combining as a team to get me into the departing aircraft just-in-time!
It was a normal Friday morning when Srikanth and I decided to have a very late breakfast around 1 PM on 12th March 2010 before piling into Jane's X-Trail at 2:10 PM. On hindsight, we should have paid more attention to Jane as she mumbled something about a truck having broken down in one of the highways leading to the airport. With the flight's scheduled departure at 4:50 PM we had a good 2 hours and 40 minutes to make it to the airport. Considering that it was a non-peak hour, we felt pretty comfortable leaving at 2:10 PM.
10 minutes later, I began to feel a bit nervous as the traffic in front of us had come to a grinding halt showing no signs of movement. The three of us were making casual conversation, while at the back of the mind, each of us were independently feeling a sense of panic of the unknown fear. With our minds working on an overdrive, I guess each of us was thinking of various options to reach the airport in time. Our casual conversation hovered around Metro Rail Transport in various cities. We spoke about the most recent MRT at New Delhi where a line was being extended to the newly refurbished airport terminal. This I said was being done to ensure better infrastructure facilities in anticipation of a sudden influx of tourists during the Commonwealth games in September this year.
This topic led us to discuss the MRT (Metro Rail Transit) in Manila and whether we should take a chance with this mode instead of inching forward by road. We lost some precious moments debating whether it would be wise for us to get down and walk to the nearest MRT station or whether it would be preferable for Jane to take a small detour and drop us at the station. With the traffic coming to a grinding halt, we decided that Srikanth and I walk down to the nearest station at Ortigas behind Robinson Mall and Jane would follow us in her car to the terminal station Taft Avenue. The plan was if Jane reached early, we would ride the last 5 kilometers to the airport in her car and if not, we would just hop into a cab.
When we got down from Jane's car little did we know that Ortigas station would be 3 kilometers away. In the hot and humid climate and with both of us lugging a bag that seemingly got heavier the longer we carried it, we had to criss-cross between stationary cars and the heavily populated downtown area to reach the station. Srikanth decided that going through Robinson Mall would save us time and it was a blessing of sorts. The mall is air conditioned and we got some time to catch our breath. With no escalators to the elevated platform at Ortigas station we huffed and puffed our way up the stairs only to realize that we had entered into the wrong side of the platform. It was like proving Murphy's law all over again: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. We did eventually make it the right side of the platform and as luck would have it, MRT decided to skip one schedule of the box cars. We ended up waiting a good 10 minutes to get into an already over-crowded MRT at 3:44 PM. Taft Avenue is the seventh station after Ortigas and we were both busy either counting the number of stations we crossed or looking at the watch to see the time.
When we reached the terminal station at Taft Avenue it was exactly 4 PM. Srikanth and Jane were in constant touch texting each other the relative positions of each. She was quite close to Taft Avenue by now. We were however a wee bit faster and after negotiating multiple staircases and landings to reach the ground level we had to forcefully stop a cab and hop into it. The poor driver was continuously indicating that he was hungry and he was on his way to a well earned lunch break. We said nothing doing...you just need to take us to the airport in 10 minutes flat. He must have been a skilled driver as the thought of a 'Time Challange' got his adrenaline flowing. He announced, "then you must pay me 200 Pesos". We asked him if he wanted that in advance...
Although just 5 kilometers away, the traffic on the last leg to the airport was also extremely heavy and by now Jane had caught up with us and was just behind our cab. It was a bit easier to talk to her about other alternatives should I miss the flight.
Jane in the meantime had done a smart thing by asking Mhy, one of her Managers working in the day shift to talk to the ground staff of Malaysian Airlines and keep them informed about the possible delay of their business class passenger. She then coaxed them into giving me time till 4:20 PM. With our cab just inching forward, both Srikanth and I had given-up all hopes of making it to the counter by 4:20 PM. We asked Jane to request Mhy and seek an additional 10 minutes grace time. Jane was still optimistic and kept telling that I would make it; but I wasn't so sure. Any alternative would mean that I stay an additional day at Manila and try and get our travel desk at Bangalore to get me a confirmation for the following day. But God in his supreme benevolence keeps a tiny window open when all doors are seemingly closed. We reached the airport at 4:27 PM and it took me a minute to cajole the security person at the entrance to allow me to enter without having to stand in the long 'Q' of humanity. It took me another minute to get my bags screened and I ran to the counter pointed to me by the airport staff as Malaysian Airlines counter. It turned out to be Korean Airlines. Folks at this counter pointed me to another counter which was on the opposite side and to the far corner. When I finally made it to the Malaysian Airlines counter at 4:31 PM, they had started to shut down. With a huge disappointment written all over my face, I made one last appeal telling them about Mhy's call informing them of a certain Mr. Rao getting stuck in traffic and her request that Malaysian Airlines give an additional 10 minutes. That did the trick. Mhy must have spoken to this very person with whom I was now appealing to be let in. With a tiny sparkle in her eyes, she said she would give it a try and talk to the officer at the gate. I guess she did and the rest was a formality. I could see Srikanth jumping up with joy when I signaled a thumbs-up sign saying 'Aal is finally Well'!
Both Jane and Mhy were like angels coming to my aid when I most needed! Malaysian Airlines, I can say walked not 1 but 10 extra miles to help a passenger, who had a genuine reason for the delayed arrival. They took absolute care from the time I was given the boarding cards; an airport staff member was assigned to me to help walk me through immigration.
At any or all given points in time, immigration 'Q' at Manila is over-crowded. The ground staff are careful with this department of homeland security and do not ask passengers to jump the 'Q'. I was losing precious minutes standing and waiting for my turn. I finally cleared at 4:45 PM. Post immigration, there is one last round of security check. Anything metallic like a belt, wallet, cellphone and laptop must be displayed for screening. Once the screening was completed the staff member assigned to me yanked the bag from my hand, asked me to carry the laptop, shoes and belt in my hand and screamed, "follow-me". A young man and with age on his side, he was nimble footed and ran like a deer. I was trudging behind him trying my best to run and probably looking and snorting like an angry hippo. I am sure it was a comical site for all people going about their usual business inside the airport, to see an Indian holding a laptop in one hand and belt and shoes in the other making a 500 meter dash to the aircraft. When I ran inside the aircraft, there was a hushed silence with almost all the cabin staff, ground staff and my fellow passengers staring at me, as if I were from a Steven Spielberg's box-office hit 'Creature from the Lost World'. Unbelievably, when I finally sat on my assigned seat, it was 4:50 PM.
Eureka! I had proved Murphy's Law wrong for once.
The 500 meters dash did have its ill effects on this aging and outdated model. Both my legs, one at the knee and the other at the ankle had taken a severe beating. With each step I took, 80 kilos of tare weight must have caused something to give way and I realized the pain only after gathering breath, sometime after the plane had taken off. With me dragging one foot and limping with the other, the onlookers at Kaula Lumpur airport must have wondered why the patch was missing from my eye, like in the 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.
As always, it was wonderful to be back home after a yet another adventure of sorts!!
Cheers!!
It was a normal Friday morning when Srikanth and I decided to have a very late breakfast around 1 PM on 12th March 2010 before piling into Jane's X-Trail at 2:10 PM. On hindsight, we should have paid more attention to Jane as she mumbled something about a truck having broken down in one of the highways leading to the airport. With the flight's scheduled departure at 4:50 PM we had a good 2 hours and 40 minutes to make it to the airport. Considering that it was a non-peak hour, we felt pretty comfortable leaving at 2:10 PM.
10 minutes later, I began to feel a bit nervous as the traffic in front of us had come to a grinding halt showing no signs of movement. The three of us were making casual conversation, while at the back of the mind, each of us were independently feeling a sense of panic of the unknown fear. With our minds working on an overdrive, I guess each of us was thinking of various options to reach the airport in time. Our casual conversation hovered around Metro Rail Transport in various cities. We spoke about the most recent MRT at New Delhi where a line was being extended to the newly refurbished airport terminal. This I said was being done to ensure better infrastructure facilities in anticipation of a sudden influx of tourists during the Commonwealth games in September this year.
This topic led us to discuss the MRT (Metro Rail Transit) in Manila and whether we should take a chance with this mode instead of inching forward by road. We lost some precious moments debating whether it would be wise for us to get down and walk to the nearest MRT station or whether it would be preferable for Jane to take a small detour and drop us at the station. With the traffic coming to a grinding halt, we decided that Srikanth and I walk down to the nearest station at Ortigas behind Robinson Mall and Jane would follow us in her car to the terminal station Taft Avenue. The plan was if Jane reached early, we would ride the last 5 kilometers to the airport in her car and if not, we would just hop into a cab.
When we got down from Jane's car little did we know that Ortigas station would be 3 kilometers away. In the hot and humid climate and with both of us lugging a bag that seemingly got heavier the longer we carried it, we had to criss-cross between stationary cars and the heavily populated downtown area to reach the station. Srikanth decided that going through Robinson Mall would save us time and it was a blessing of sorts. The mall is air conditioned and we got some time to catch our breath. With no escalators to the elevated platform at Ortigas station we huffed and puffed our way up the stairs only to realize that we had entered into the wrong side of the platform. It was like proving Murphy's law all over again: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. We did eventually make it the right side of the platform and as luck would have it, MRT decided to skip one schedule of the box cars. We ended up waiting a good 10 minutes to get into an already over-crowded MRT at 3:44 PM. Taft Avenue is the seventh station after Ortigas and we were both busy either counting the number of stations we crossed or looking at the watch to see the time.
When we reached the terminal station at Taft Avenue it was exactly 4 PM. Srikanth and Jane were in constant touch texting each other the relative positions of each. She was quite close to Taft Avenue by now. We were however a wee bit faster and after negotiating multiple staircases and landings to reach the ground level we had to forcefully stop a cab and hop into it. The poor driver was continuously indicating that he was hungry and he was on his way to a well earned lunch break. We said nothing doing...you just need to take us to the airport in 10 minutes flat. He must have been a skilled driver as the thought of a 'Time Challange' got his adrenaline flowing. He announced, "then you must pay me 200 Pesos". We asked him if he wanted that in advance...
Although just 5 kilometers away, the traffic on the last leg to the airport was also extremely heavy and by now Jane had caught up with us and was just behind our cab. It was a bit easier to talk to her about other alternatives should I miss the flight.
Jane in the meantime had done a smart thing by asking Mhy, one of her Managers working in the day shift to talk to the ground staff of Malaysian Airlines and keep them informed about the possible delay of their business class passenger. She then coaxed them into giving me time till 4:20 PM. With our cab just inching forward, both Srikanth and I had given-up all hopes of making it to the counter by 4:20 PM. We asked Jane to request Mhy and seek an additional 10 minutes grace time. Jane was still optimistic and kept telling that I would make it; but I wasn't so sure. Any alternative would mean that I stay an additional day at Manila and try and get our travel desk at Bangalore to get me a confirmation for the following day. But God in his supreme benevolence keeps a tiny window open when all doors are seemingly closed. We reached the airport at 4:27 PM and it took me a minute to cajole the security person at the entrance to allow me to enter without having to stand in the long 'Q' of humanity. It took me another minute to get my bags screened and I ran to the counter pointed to me by the airport staff as Malaysian Airlines counter. It turned out to be Korean Airlines. Folks at this counter pointed me to another counter which was on the opposite side and to the far corner. When I finally made it to the Malaysian Airlines counter at 4:31 PM, they had started to shut down. With a huge disappointment written all over my face, I made one last appeal telling them about Mhy's call informing them of a certain Mr. Rao getting stuck in traffic and her request that Malaysian Airlines give an additional 10 minutes. That did the trick. Mhy must have spoken to this very person with whom I was now appealing to be let in. With a tiny sparkle in her eyes, she said she would give it a try and talk to the officer at the gate. I guess she did and the rest was a formality. I could see Srikanth jumping up with joy when I signaled a thumbs-up sign saying 'Aal is finally Well'!
Both Jane and Mhy were like angels coming to my aid when I most needed! Malaysian Airlines, I can say walked not 1 but 10 extra miles to help a passenger, who had a genuine reason for the delayed arrival. They took absolute care from the time I was given the boarding cards; an airport staff member was assigned to me to help walk me through immigration.
At any or all given points in time, immigration 'Q' at Manila is over-crowded. The ground staff are careful with this department of homeland security and do not ask passengers to jump the 'Q'. I was losing precious minutes standing and waiting for my turn. I finally cleared at 4:45 PM. Post immigration, there is one last round of security check. Anything metallic like a belt, wallet, cellphone and laptop must be displayed for screening. Once the screening was completed the staff member assigned to me yanked the bag from my hand, asked me to carry the laptop, shoes and belt in my hand and screamed, "follow-me". A young man and with age on his side, he was nimble footed and ran like a deer. I was trudging behind him trying my best to run and probably looking and snorting like an angry hippo. I am sure it was a comical site for all people going about their usual business inside the airport, to see an Indian holding a laptop in one hand and belt and shoes in the other making a 500 meter dash to the aircraft. When I ran inside the aircraft, there was a hushed silence with almost all the cabin staff, ground staff and my fellow passengers staring at me, as if I were from a Steven Spielberg's box-office hit 'Creature from the Lost World'. Unbelievably, when I finally sat on my assigned seat, it was 4:50 PM.
Eureka! I had proved Murphy's Law wrong for once.
The 500 meters dash did have its ill effects on this aging and outdated model. Both my legs, one at the knee and the other at the ankle had taken a severe beating. With each step I took, 80 kilos of tare weight must have caused something to give way and I realized the pain only after gathering breath, sometime after the plane had taken off. With me dragging one foot and limping with the other, the onlookers at Kaula Lumpur airport must have wondered why the patch was missing from my eye, like in the 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.
As always, it was wonderful to be back home after a yet another adventure of sorts!!
Cheers!!
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