The Yaxis Live by Rajesh Kumar

It is not that one has to buy a book to read how contrasting thoughts across age, gender and states of India can be.  It is just that this combination of demographic, psychographic and behavioral contrasts give rise to situations that sometimes become anecdotal. This one happened on a flight that was connecting Delhi to Chennai, an just about five months back. The name of the airline is not important. The configuration of the aircraft really is.

It just so happens that Seat 27E of this flight is next to a safety door. What is more important that there is a seat at that safety door which is occupied by a flight attendant during take off and landing. In this case, the flight attendant occupying this particular seat was a lady, and if you like, you can use the conventional term which is air hostess. And if you are a young man by age or heart, you know how hard you must try to ignore the situation. More so, if your seat number is 28E, in which case the you almost face the air hostess during that time. And if you are on 29F, you not just get additional leg room, you face the airhostess completely.

This particular flight, I was on Seat 28E, which means that that I was almost facing the airhostess. We were waiting for the flight to take off. Not sure if you agree, but in the proximity of beautiful women,  lot of men in the middle ages feel teen aged, retirees feel in their thirties, and those in their thirties feel as if they just started wearing trousers to school. They also try futile ploys and invent logic in defence of their unexplainable mental pattern ( A cousin of mine claims he flies only Kingfisher because their flights are on time). Men make the most of their flying experience even more so when their better half is not in the same flight, which appears to be the case with most of the actors in this particular flight.

Our aircraft was tenth in queue for take off. Which means, if you take an average of about 2 minutes per aircraft, we waited about 20 minutes. The good old days when the flight attendants would offer the customary cotton ball, wet face towel and lozenges are far gone. Which means they have nothing worthwhile to do on the ground once the doors are closed till the time the flight takes off and they can begin their sky commerce by selling from their food cart.

The seat belts were on, and the captain ordered the crew on stations for take-off. So, while we wait for our turn to take off, the lady appears from no where, and to the delight of men who know their wives cannot monitor them, occupy the seat next to the safety door. The old man on Seat 29F, suddenly becomes even more straight and upright on his seat. The guy on 28C started pretended to be reading something in the newspapers, when actually he was rolling his eyes every 15 seconds – on the pretext of looking out of the window. The guy on 27E, who was in his fifties had actually very little leg room and must be in great inconvenience, but he was not displaying any symptoms of suffering from compressed patella or a femur that actually threatened to reduce his height by 1 inch by the time he landed in Chennai. In fact, he seemed delighted at his state and hardly had time to worry about such silly stuff. He was actually turning his neck  every thirty seconds and looking towards the airhostess, who was occupying that strange kind of seat, almost next to him, but directionally opposite. And I, well, I was giving that bored look on the face when actually I was looking at these strange specimen around me.

The  airhostess started to give a briefing on how to operate the emergency door. All the men within in the three rows front and three behind the emergency door actually listened to it as if the kindergarten teacher was narrating a jingle. Two of them were also nodding their head in appreciation of their newly developed understanding.

The airhostess started her first sentence beyond the official script by asking me, “Sir, are you from Chennai?”.

All the men looked at me jealously. I don’t know why I felt it necessary do so but I also started rambling, “Actually, I have lived in ten states of India, and started to count them aloud- UP, MP, Orissa, Bengal, Uttarakhand, Jharkhand, Delhi, Haryana, Tamil Nadu….”. She repeated her question, “Do you belong to Chennai?” . I said well, I have been living their for nine years, which was a truthful representation of facts.

“Sir, how does one spend a day in Chennai?”

Before I had the scope to marvel myself at selecting a good shirt this morning, she clarified, "Actually, sir, this crew has a day layover in Chennai and we are not familiar with Chennai."

Before I could marvel my personality any further, the guy seated next to her interjected, "Visit the Kapaleeshwar temple in Mylapore I am sure you go there once, you would go every time."

Her next question, again directed to me.

"Sir,is it possible to go to Tirupati darshan and come back the same day?"

I began, "No, actually, it is 165 kms and then their it is waiting time in the queue. Frankly, same day could be a challenge."

27E interjected once again, this time barely concealing his displeasure at my dudness. He could barely wait for me to finish. That a particular question is not addressed to them often does not matter to old, opinionated men.

And by the way, all men feel of all others as old men.

"Go to T. Nagar. They have TTD office. They run same day buses from there. Very nice service. I have done Balaji darshan several times  by the same day bus service."

She again ignored him, and asked me,  “What if one has to spend an evening outdoors? Could you give me some ideas on places to visit”.

I started, “The Spencers is old, while it is good, you may want to visit the Inox theatre in City Center and the food court is not bad either”.

Individual 27E started again , “Check out the Hindu for the sabha listings. Check out some nice vocal at Narad Gana Sabha tomorrow. Check out the Kucheris this entire month. You will relish. You must make your booking today itself else you will not get any tickets. I will help you in that case”.

Jealous men, like jealous women, can hardly keep quiet. This guy too had the manifestation of mental displayria.

The flight meanwhile had reached the stable height and the captain pulled back the seat belt sign on.

The air hostess left her seat to start the sky commerce and 27E started to immediately whine about how uncomfortable his seat was.

Important to note that while landing, the name badge of the flight attendant who occupied that  seat read ‘Vinod Sharma’! And if this is of any interest, there were no conversations this time round.

I was looking at my Hindi blog after a while my browser, the ever helpful Google Chrome offered to translate the page into English. I okayed, and the entire page became hilarious. Here’s my intro of myself, as it existed in Hindi and what it reads after English translation.

After reading the translation, I came to the believe that humans have no threats from robots. At least not for the next few decades.

This guy was riding atop watermelons. Correction, he was actually asleep atop the watermelons. Supply chain agility, or supply chain adaptability?!

To call C as a photographer would be incorrect. A commando would be a better appelation.  C holds his camera with as much pride as a commando and points it the moment he has a doubt of some monkey business anywhere. And unlike the commando, C starts firing indiscriminately without any orders.

I am not going to identify C since the flavour of the season is anonymity spurred by the deep throat who blogs as the Fake IPL Player.

Coming back to C now. C honestly believes that his big camera is actually part of his human anatomy. He cannot live without it for a moment. He also believes everyone is interested in his elevator pitch on his camera particularly on virtues of optical zoom.It is amazing how he does it. 

Of course, C loves photography. But that love does not translate onto his love for his subjects. That’s why when people smile in a frame or look towards the lens, he yells,”Waste. Photo should appear natural”. Essentially means people have to have the dull, infinite-focus mode or animated discussions, but should not be even side-glancing towards the lens. And somewhere he also nurses the film-maker syndrome deep within. Nothing wrong with that – only with the retakes. Imagine his subject standing in the center of the road median in the April sun with vehicles whizzing past him from both sides. Not just that, the subject, another friend who I would call K points his right hand towards the sky towards an imaginary aeroplane that C taught him to visualize.  C meanwhile has his telephoto connected and standing in a shadow and adjusting his lens manually while K comes with his choicest abuses asking him to hurry up.

Ocassionally C gets into trouble with his camera. Once, driving by the outskirts, he is believed to have  stopped his car at an idyllic location and got down from his car with the camera. He also fitted a massively long lens in the front and pointed it to a villageman who was heading towards him. He kept adjusting till the villageman was possibly ten yards away from him. Finally, the villageman notices this retraction and expansion of lens that C was constantly doing in the hope of getting the perfect frame. He grew suspicious in case C could be holding a weapon! He became suspicious of C’s intentions. He just threw a stone towards C and ran back to the direction he came from. C also folded up and scooted the next moment.

But why do you need a long telephoto lens to take the above picture when the subject is just ten yards away is another dimension. Sometimes C suffers from the delusions that he is Rajanikanth and needs no framework of logic to define his actions.

And car is part of an extension of his body connected from a different part of his body. That’s why C often steps out of his house and gets into the car and goes nowhere and comes back. I think I’ve already sounded you out that he does not needs precise human-moded activities such as starting a car. It is just that C starts missing the car so much so he gets inside sits for the moment looks around and comes back!

Never mind, C!

At the outset I must tell you about two strong possibilities I have started believing in. First, Rehman must be a much sought-after ladies tailor.Second, his mobile number must be quite similar to mine. What else can possibly explain the numerous calls I have started getting from his clients of late.

Usually I manage to keep my cool and politely conclude the call as soon as I hear the ‘R’ word. But this morning’s call turned out to be different. I was climbing the stairs back towards the house after the cleaning the car in hot-sweaty weather. If you have such experience, you’d realize that the Indian male usually looks for warm cuppa tea that time, not surprise calls.

“Rehman, This is Mrs Raghavan speaking”

“No, err…”

“You spoiled my blouses. The entire set has gone waste”

I was not sure I deserved this barrage, which sounded much worse than it looks here. But Mrs Raghavan was in no mood to relent.

“But I..”

“Yes, you spoiled them all. Don’t do that again(almost screams). I am coming to your shop in thirty minutes. And keep your shop open, don’t back up and vanish, okay?”

I could mumble a meek sounding ‘okay’. Mrs Raghavan was kind enough to hang-up at this point. I felt totally overpowered and remain quite worried about future Rehman calls.

Sorry if I don’t take your call in next few weeks. I remain dreadfully frightened about the possibility of the next Rehman call!!

A shoe is an item of footwear evolved at first to protect the human foot and later, additionally, as an item of decoration in itself.

Ask the petrified politicians if he agrees, quite likely he’d not.

George Bush wasted time looking for WMDs. They finally came his way in a press conference. The Chinese were taken aback as well and Indian politicians are just learning the potency of this olfactory-cum-tactile projectile, usually hand delivered.

Next what? ‘Footwear not allowed’ press meets? Or keeping janta-janardan crowds so far away that a hand lobbed dirty-smelly-sweaty flying object of the above description does not proximate the dignitary’s honour. A flying shoe has the following impact:

1. Physical (Damage value – minimal)
2. Biochemical ( Damage value – moderate – the sweatly smell effect- yukks)
3. Emotional – Makes an amazing newsclip – media loves such short, shocking drama. No editing required. Can be replayed ad-nauseum. (Damage value – very high. TRP builder. It hurts, aaah.)

But bad, too bad. Politicians ’serve’ their respective countries. They’d even say yes if you ask them whether they would lay down their lives for the honour of their countries if you ask them. But being treated with shoes?! Some footwear company’s ad once said their shoes are designed for better aerodynamics. Never understood then!

Update: Looks like it happened in Haryana this time around. Oops!

It has been just about two weeks since I daily started passing through Chennai’s Rajiv Gandhi Salai, aka IT Corridor on my way to work. But if you in Chennai, you’d rather choose to call this road by its old name, Old Mahabalipuram Road, or the shorter and modern sounding – OMR. Now, if you are marketing person you’d be worried to see your brand having such diverse monikers but in Chennai we just love it. In some ways it is like a much adored kid in the family whose maternal grandpa insists calling him Lalan Prasad, paternal grandma insisted he be called Ganesh Narayan, and the parents decided to call him Mantu at home while naming him Himanshu at school. Things get only a little more complicated when the kid grows up and introduces himself as, “Hi, I am Himanshu – call me Him”. Now why you’d call him as Him is to be understood only after sneaking undercover of the semantic logic, whereby Him in Sanskrit means ice and represents strength. And lastly, what’s in a name – I have had friends named Mrityunjay, but where called Mrityu by the entire gang![Mrityunjay = One who is victorious over death. Mrityu = Death].
Back to OMR. As I started daily going towards the hallowed world of Chennai’s IT city, I had experiences that gave me rainbow feelings. The MRTS train has a station at Thiruvanmiyur which is bang opposite one of the IT parks [Loud question : What has ‘IT’ got to do with ‘park’?]. Call it recession of whatever, but lot of people do seem to be thinking that using trains is after all, not such a bad idea. At least the number of people getting out of the station did indicate so. Sadly, the MRTS train does not go far along on the OMR.
As you move forward, the traffic slows down considerably, especially near a very fashionable building having sharp edges. Besides general traffic disorder, a contributory factor seems to be craning necks of male drivers – that sharp looking building is a fashion school for real and the crowd probably is quite fashionable. In other words, it is not the sharpness, but the curves that make that traffic jam. But I miss out probably because I am yet to master that the steal-a-look drive which my friend MR swore he’d mastered.
Now, if you are a lane conscious driver ( in India that is a choice in most parts, rather than an enforced standard), you’d get considerably perturbed to see cars overtaking your vehicle from the left side and then almost stalling in after coming in front of you. The same could happen from the right side as well. Don’t get perturbed. Take it easy and enjoy. It looks like a video game. Weird, isn’t it? If you are driving in the 2nd of the three lanes, you would even get the pleasure of being overtaken from left as well as right, at the exact same time!!!!
Xanadu? I never said this area is Xanadu. But just picture this – a reasonably well intentioned and intelligent person, aka me, getting ready for work, perfume, deo and so on. And after putting that Stetson after-shave (that came in as gift) to good use, getting into the car and driving towards IT Corridor with high thoughts of some world beater of an idea, which I hope to develop in the course of my few kms drive along the IT Corridor. I cross the junction that is the starting point of OMR aka Rajiv Gandhi Salai aka IT Corridor thinking about the idea that would soon world beater when the car AC system gives a weird stink. Small matter that a garbage truck, loosely covered by a sheet- I mean a fairly dirty looking open bed truck loaded with town’s garbage and covered with a flimsy sheet overtakes you from left and then miraculously fits in the exact space between your car and the vehicle ahead of you just as we all hit a traffic jam!! But then, how do you possibly nurture the new mind-blowing business model, or develop that recession proof niche service which the VCs would fall over one another to finance when the ghastly looking bespoke truck stands right in front of you. I mean it surely should be possible. But, a lesser mortal like mine just buries the idea that very point and starts looking at the possibility of a creeping lane change. Mad honking pushes some bikers out of the way and I succeed in changing the lane while the traffic is still static (only the packing factor changes). I mean you know it if you have done it. And no, unlike some slimy parts of the world, cows are not seen on this road. Only buffaloes, that too only twice in last two weeks. And truckloads of chickens being transported in cages to be processed. Where can you better see such direct examples of farm-to-fork business model?!!!!

A few kilometers down you are made cognizant to the existence of the imposing toll plaza via large boards. So you either Rs 17 one way, or buy a smartcard which can be loaded with 50 or 100 trips. Being that genetically incorrigible technology loving man, I buy the smartcard and load it with 50 trips. Also, I did not want to be robbed daily, once a month sounded a better option. Next time I approach the toll-gate, no cash business, I wave the magical smartcard to the toll-gate attendant who takes it near a sensor and the gate opens, I move on. This, I felt was wow. This was IT corridor. A few days down, my sense of wow multiplied manifold when I noticed that every-time the display shows the remaining number of trips as 49. Being that mild opportunist, I decide not to point out the problem to the attendant. Actually, every time I see that number 49 with my side-glance, I suppress my wow feeling, just give a bored look to the attendant and moved on. But inside I felt this was a real wow. Smugly I thought to myself that there was a problem with an update query in their data-base. I decided not to think too hard about how they could do better error handling, or maybe one of the companies around here can give them a ‘solution’. I also tried too hard not to think whether this happened to others as well? I also decided not to ask the question to my colleagues in case they feel jealous of me and complain!!! But ten days down in one of the ‘bored look’ moments, I had to rub my eyes, because somewhere the data square-off had happened and the system was showing the remaining number of trips as 40. I mean how cruel to a well-intentioned, reasonably intelligent and good-looking man like me!!!
Every evening as I reach home, I defrag my mind of all these experiences. Defrag is a technology term. In plain English, I mean I just purge of all useless thoughts from my mind. Like work. Next morning is another reboot with another attempt at developing another crazy business idea, as I take the Rajiv Gandhi Salai, a.k.a OMR, which I have gradually started to like.

We were at Mysore last Sunday and among other places, we visited the Mysore Royal Palace too. There were three types of tickets available :

So, it has been publicly firmanned that foreigners visiting the palace are neither adults not children. (Somewhat reminded me of my OB teacher Raji Philip who described the boardroom of a company  as having three types of toilets, one each of the ladies and gents, and one for the Directors!!)

The Mysore Palace is grand, and the only downer is that you are not allowed to take your camera inside the palace.

The palace looked absolutely dazzling during the evening lighting though (thankfully, nobody- adults, children, or foreigners needs to buy any tickets to see the lighting), take a look at the picture taken from my phone(the picture hardly does any justice to the real thing but nevertheless). The sheer size of the palace compound appears quite overwhelming.

Ankur has shared some real cool pictures of Mysore.

When highly respected Subroto Bagchi was speaking on TV the other day, I was amused to see his title. It read as Gardener. I could relate somewhat, a business leader of his stature can only be expected to nurture what’s around. How appropriate, I thought. Cisco likewise, has a Chief Globalisation Officer. Ron McDonald, the mascot of of McDonald’s , is believed to be called as Chief Happiness Officer by McDonald’s.

Not every position in the world has such undergone such a profound thinking exercise.

At a later day, I was reminded of the old days of the Soviet Union. A person could be called Fourth Assistant Secretary to the Chief Vice Minister or something equally weird. There was no way you could perhaps understand what such titled gentleman (gentleperson?) could be doing for a career.

Can you believe, the top boss of AOL match making service is called CEO of Love! Also, that the main organiser of the highly awaited Berkshire Hathway’s annual meeting is believed to be called Director of Chaos. A CEO is believed to be calling his job title as Difference Maker. Somewhat like a telephone operator calling himself/herself as Director of First Impressions.What about the doorman at the famous hotel being called as Door Keeping Executive or even Welcome Experience Manager?.

My wife remains quite annoyed by my daughter’s addiction to Pogo channel. She remains even more annoyed by the fact that much against her rightful protestations, my daughter is joined by me in watching shows such as M.A.D and Takeshi’s Castle (Oh, have you heard the hilarious voiceover provided by the very talented Javed Jaffrey? !). And just btw, even now my TV is showing a Harry Potter movie and I am the only viewer in my house!!

If that generates your sympathies for my wife, read this. I recently noticed a Hitachi AC ad on Pogo. Now kids don’t order ACs, which means someone told Hitachi (or provided somewhat credible viewership data) that dads and mums watch the channel too!! And hey wait, they just showed a Tanishq jewelry ad. Pogo,thanks for making it easy for me to accept this reality!!!