The young turks, rabid remarks, future of Indian Politics ?

Weekends are for relaxing, a little extra time at home, playing with my daughter and trying to make some sense of the vertiginous political landscape. And that is a tall task! Frankly, I do not worry too much about the outcome of the elections,as the dealings of the governing framework is in the hands of educated and erudite civil servants and increasingly the business leaders have been, of late, not been hauled up with any rabid legislations. Somewhere, there is also a broad consensus that business should be let alone and but for the odd Mamtas, it is business as usual.

Now politics is a whole different smorgasbord! With a little wisdom and some common sense, I feel I can state that ‘Days of coalition politics has now confirmedly become a reality’. All national parties have lost lustre and have increasing dissociated themselves from state level issues. State level issues have been under the grip of the regions which perpetually harbour national ambitions! Without a charming national face and a party to look up to, the media runs around each day to cover each face in the elction fray.To catch media, the new Turks seek routes of infamity and voice the most provocative and thoughtless (Well, perhaps not all that thoughtless) banter.

Latest to enter the melee is Varun Gandhi. His volatile comment against the Muslims is totally uncalled for and is a page straight out of the diaries of the Muthaliks of the world. From relative anonymity and only a ‘Gandhi’ title in his armoury, he has now emerged the ‘media boy’ and soon will be among the league of star BJP campaigners and all in the space of ten days. For the young ‘babalog’ of and the impressionable ( and also the older politicos), this is a crash course in how to make headlines and draw national attention.

1. Make a fiery casteist, racist, provocative comment
2. Be a little temperate – blame the acoustics and see the reaction of the media and the crowds
3. If the reaction is negative – blame the media and the politicians chiding you and claim that the story was concocted and you were misinterpreted by the media
4. If the reaction is - attention and the media is mollycoddling you for airtime – stick to your speech and blame the others for duplicity and hypocrisy – the beauty of our politics is that there are enough instances of leaders and parties taking partisan stances

For the Sangh Parivar, he is the chocolate boy – ‘well’ groomed youngster with a ‘national’ surname right down the lineage of the enfant terrible of National politics once upon a time – Sanjay Gandhi. For BJP, which is projecting L.K.Advani as the youth icon – this maybe the long searched for answer. For the Congress, this is a new line to throw brickbats at – and also an avenue for branding Rahul Gandhi as the more mature face. For the media, the sundry debates and interviews of politicians. For the mother Maneka, sworn animal lover, moments of deep pride – her son seems to follow his father’s footsteps and has picked up some animal instincts too !

It is win-win for anyone concerned. But for the poor, confused voter – another silent prayer – if the youth face of politics demonstrates this demeanour – God save this country!

On getting lost in the rigmaroles of life...

Thinking on the same lines as my earlier in the blog, I perused my old journal of five six years ago and saw this unfinished set of stanzas. Wrote a few more lines and posted the same. Maybe it is a slightly retrospective, since life has been sunshines of late :-)

There were days when I felt choked,
So full of energy and zest of life
But so less time to take space
A moment for my breath

The rush was everywhere
The cars, the mad rush at the lights
The hungry hands at the closed window
We were all in a hurry

The birds were never there
The green was always a passing blur
The sky, I guess must have been there
And we lived, of course

Then when the time came
I looked for all these
Something to hang on and cling
To a support for our dear lives

But the flowers had withered
The leaves were dry
The smell of rains were gone
Just the heat and the dune remained

I lived a life of noticing nothing
Never the leaves and the pulchritude
Never the soft whispers of nature
And never the touches of loved ones.

But life is strange healer
The smiles were fast to come
The minds bend to forgive
I was on a bed of roses once again !

Of motions of life, seeking meaning, ennui ...

The other day, ‘once in a while’ periodic call from one of my prior colleagues, led me into a train of thoughts into my past consulting life. The rush between the planes, trains and automobiles; the sundry presentations, the lonely drinking sessions to cut down ennui in an alien hotel, the detached run through motions of life…

“Life is good. I have got the best ratings among peers; I got favourable feedback and my seniors are happy with me. The clients trust my advice and the current assignment is going on really well. But there is some void somewhere; where is all this leading? What am I actually delivering? Am I happy?” he asked with the amazing earnestness that he shows in every interaction. “Six pegs of vodka, plenty of lime and some cubes of cube and the drink induced stupefaction and then deep dead slumber should do the trick!” I joked. But amidst the ensuing smiles and chuckles and the easing air, I went into some of my null days of the past – before my teetotalling present.

Yes, life just drifts away most of the time when we are working with that ‘detachedness’ a sort of ‘present but absent’ existence. So do a lot of us go through the rigmarole of daily life, hurry through every minute of life and blame it on the ‘pay cheque’ or realities of adult life ! Yes, we do – because we just want to; because it is convenient to do so; because that is what my friends, batch mates and colleagues do; because it is so difficult and unpragmatic to do anything else. I could think of a thousand excuses to confirm to the schedule I don’t like but I find it difficult to think of even one ruse to do something I like!

Fundamentally looking at life like an engineer, a bean counter and a stodgy management consultant, we spend most of our waking life in our working careers festooned in cubicles, office spaces and maybe boardrooms. With all checks and balances of life to cancel out in this life time, that is a tough call. The work scale is always heavier and tilts the balance to its side. So what is your advice Mr. Consultant – I ask myself. Well the key thing is to enjoy what you do … “Ok save the spiel, not another ‘lift me’ literature!” I reprimand myself.

So what else – a very simple set of rules

1. Look around you – notice all the different colours
2. Smile at every opportunity
3. Look at the faces of people around you – they are all going through life
4. Buy a bunch of flowers to give it someone you love
5. Watch a romantic comedy or read a comic

So, will this solve all the problems in your life ? No, it wont. Because we are the choices that we make. Nothing will change till you make that choice to lead a meaningful life – whatever that may mean to you!

'IT'ty, 'BIT'y conversations...

Change is one of the phobias that most of us have in our cells. True , but this fear can be in various proportions and intensities in various individuals. This phenomenon can be seen at its diseased worst in the employees of this organization which I visited the other day. The chief executive of the enterprise has, in the recent past, picked up a fascination for ‘IT’.

With our man’s new interest in Information Technology, the company is sweeping all over its various factories. IT education has been made mandatory to all employees and the added carrot or rather the stick is that – promotions and upward movement in the organization is linked to IT prowess.

But what does poor Mr. Rami Reddy have to do with this entire melee.

He has seen change in the last two decades and was always a silent unthinking spectator. Work life had always its sanctimonious reverence and it was too sacred to be shaken by the machinations of governments and the leaders. Things always happened for the better. The screen ‘god’ had emerged from the green rooms of the top management and set out to ravage the company landscape. The benevolent Maintenance head, was always there to provide spice to life and at times a little ‘peg’ to boost the moments. All in all there was the must-needed tranquility in the offices.

Then came that thing – computer. That small television screens seem to fascinate everybody to no end. How can one trivialize all those important information lying around in lazy dusty bundles ? Is there no sanity in the ambience any more ? How could a ‘Kam-puter’ do jyada work? Now CEO Garu insists on all employees in the office to go to Secunderabad for a training program. Imagine what will Kalyan think of his father. What face will I put on the next time I teach him arithmetic? His Appa has still to learn!

This was a short conversation I was privy to, sitting in Rami Reddy's office

“ Reddy Garu , have you heard about the computer installation in our office. There will be a computer in every table. It seems we will not have files on our tables any more.”
“ So ?”
“ At least we will have space to keep our tiffins on the table. There is a rumor that the machines get very hot after a while. Maybe we use it to heat our food during the lunch time.”
“But I heard that the air conditioning the entire office.”
“ In that case we get kulfis also from home.”
“ Our record room is also going to be demolished. There will be a ‘customer complain booth’ in the same place. Now those filthy contractors will trouble us more for their bills and tenders.”
“ But of course the computer will be on our side. It won’t team up with rogues and scoundrels.”
“ But what if the computer starts taking bribe ? Our pocket money will reduce, na ?”
“ Oh my God ! There is also a rumor that these machines are actually robots spying for our CEO. It will send all-important messages to him by something called ‘e-mail’. It is some kind of courier service.”
“ Yes, yes I have heard about that; and if anything incriminating is caught, they will send vigilance by this same e-mail and have us put into some ‘datawarehouse’.”
“Oh! What is this world coming to? There is no ethics in the office anymore.”

Road less traveled – Of bumps, jumps and aching bones...

It was an eventful evening… We huddled into the dilapidated Herbie ( read A/C Volvo) which had seen more bumpy rides than several human lifetimes. Inspite of the driver informing us that the vehicle is younger than my daughter – three years, I could not help gaping at it observing a silent homage to the battered warrior. I humbly offered a few excuses about nausea and vomiting and sat in the front throne just behind the pilot. The conductor still tried hard to convince me to take a seat at the back – “ We have plastic bags on every seat ; You can comfortably vomit ! “ A thousand expletives found its way to my tongue but I restrained myself. A damp stench filled the vehicle as if it were perspiring, thinking of another twelve hour journey to our destination.

The initial portion of the journey was fairly uneventful besides my admiration towards of hoard of mosquitoes which repeatedly attacked me with the zest of a samurai and vengefulness of a Ronin, trying to reclaim the faith of the emperor. My much cultivated habit of sleeping in a jiffy deserted me and I kept blinking at the lights and most the darkness ahead.

When my eyelids finally gave in, a sound of a revving engine came from the back seat . There was a rookie Lewis Hamilton – a fellow traveler, revving up, bludgeoning his nostrils and letting out snorts through his nasal exhaust. So much for sound sleep, I lamented.

The terrain had the inconsistency which made the Indian Cricket team look like gods. During the dips and the leaps, I remembered a person from my wanton school days. Sister Agnes !! She was like an Amazon inside the garb of a nun, always looking busy teaching us Biology. Her fury and deep baritone voice made her seem more like a drill sergeant taking ‘extreme’ PT lessons !But I digress …

But what I remembered was, she teaching us that there are ‘XXX’ no. of bones in the human body. Man, she was wrong! I just counted a wee bit on that evening. Every joint groaned like a mangled dog and I was just beginning to feel like a bundle of bones loosely attached with some adipose tissues.

The Oasis came after our camel had trudged a good three and half hours over sublimely rural India and we reached the land of the 'bald surd'. The welcome break had me rejoicing like a traveler in a Thai Massage joint. Suddenly I saw a surd with flowing sweat licked hair sitting at the counter. Was this a mirage or what is just fatigue? A sardarjee in an obscure part of South India – Man, that is enterprising! Luckily before I lost my marbles and perspective on reality, I saw the good old bald surd squatting on a coir bed and busy counting the hair around his navel under the rolled up vest with his right hand, and casually scratching his family jewels with his left hand… Needless to say I lost my appetite!

I looked around to relieve myself and had company in a cow letting out pee by the buckets with a purposeful look in its eyes. The seriousness made me begin to look for my business card and introducing my consulting company to the creature who seemed to be only sane animal ( read potential customer) in that dhaba ( colloquial for road side inn) of inebriation. I was just into the first introduction when I heard a muted thump!! Two dollops of a green substance dropped in retaliation from behind my new-found bovine friend … Message was clear “Dude, I dole out shit when I need to; But you do it for a living”. With these wise words of deep understanding, I lazily trudged on, for another leg of dips and leaps !

Tribute to a woman's life...

Growing among 'women of substance', this is a tribute to all of them who , made me who I am and still make me want to be a better human being each day of my life, on this International Womens' Day.
To my late grandmother, who, unshamedly lavished her love and partiality to me among all her grand children...
To my mother, who wanted nothing more than my happiness and prays every living moment for my well being...
To my sisters, whom I bullied and teased, but never flinched from calling me the best brother in the world...
To my wife, who is my favorite and most ardent critic keeping me grounded in reality, who I want to wake up with each morning...

To my lady colleagues, who have understood and appreciated every professional victory of mine ...
And to my daughter, who remains the centre of life , whose smile is worth all the troubles of adult and professional life...

This is for you all -------------

As a sister to brats galore,
She tends and mends fights
Bullied and tugged by the ponytails,
She still makes it up in the end

Brothers are always lost
Without the care and the compassion,
Without the trusted ear
Who is sump for every secret

As a wife to a kid (men never grow up)
She mollycoddles and massages
Gargantuan egos and complexes
And makes the day special in the night

She lends ear to every bickering
Comforts every rejection
Lauds each achievement
Lends a shoulder for each grief

As a mother, the creator of all
She has learnt the trade
After mothering her husband
She has the child in every heartbeat

She has a premonition of a kind
An accurate sense of feeling
Of whatever the child goes through
And prays every minute for the well being

As a grandmother of toddlers
She develops prowess in stories
Spoils with gifts and goodies
Pampers to heart’s content

She reminisces through life
Proud of what she was and is now
And readies herself for the yonder
And another life of love and care.

Human Capital Series -2 Understanding regulation...

While I have clients constantly asking questions related to their people issues, organization and corporate strategy, there are also the general questions on the state of the economy, markets and various management theories, I get to field. The most recent has been the tanking of the stock market – both the Dalal and the Wall Street and the eternal debate of “How much regulation is good?”Most of my replies are the logical dissection of the various parameters and the informed guesses and speculation on the future of business. I also attempt to create a model for clients to use and clarify such questions themselves. Now, the interesting or rather the difficult part of modeling is the inability of us professionals to create rules or patterns around various phenomenon. The corollary is the complaint that we tend to trivialize ‘facts’ by fitting them into models and formulae. As a senior client once commented “ You consultants have a model for everything – the only difference between you and an amateur mathematician is the jargon you paint it in and the tie !”

So I try to tread the waters to explain why markets are complex systems rather than rolling out another jabber or formula.

The financial system much like the ‘textbook’ complex entity is one that shows spatio-temporal correlations and are not determined purely by localized conditions. With large number of forces and flows affecting it, there are several limits to the tractability of the modeling process. Regulation brings in boundary conditions to any equation making it more focused for an optimization. Although at risk of classical reductionism, it also helps in detailed denotation in some of the presuppositions and logic. Regulation brings in a boundary condition that at times may 'intelligently' prevent 'excessive creativity.

Complexity brings with it its own virtues. Every complexity puts forth variables which we at times tend to neglect, newer permutations of key parameters and in essence brings out the need to always have a Plan B.In retrospect the immunity of our financial system vis-à-vis the western markets is perhaps a victory of institutional boundaries over individual unleashed creative thinking. There is an interesting article by David Brooks in the NY times speaking for institutional thinking over individual thinking - He says “Faith in all institutions, including charities, has declined precipitously over the past generation, not only in the U.S. but around the world. Lack of institutional awareness has bred cynicism and undermined habits of behavior. Bankers, for example, used to have a code that made them a bit stodgy and which held them up for ridicule in movies like ‘Mary Poppins.’ But the banker’s code has eroded, and the result was not liberation but self-destruction."

Like all management consultants, I have been pre-conditioned to avoid complexity when ever we enter the domain of decision making. May be there is a little virtue in using regulation to simplify the representation of financial market as a complex dynamical system.

On Wall Street, terrorists and Sachin Tendulkar...

Every now and then I wake up to the political canard like Rip Van Winkle from his reverie. "A little knowledge," said an English poet, "is a dangerous thing." I have always believed that partial knowledge lead us from what little light we have to greater darkness. Meticulous reading and understanding is warranted before one decides to exercise his right to opinion and debate. So I decided to use this Sunday to peruse the dailies and the NY times, to wake up to discussions and debates around me.

World has not changed – Blood bath continues on the Wall Street, Obama is on a quotidian, uninspiring agenda of the bail offs and the complete circle of violence in our unstable 'curry republics' states which slide on the terrorist gravy train in and around India (which looks unstable itself).Employment statistics in the US enter new crevices, the economic uncertainty clamps on the businesses and the optimism business world leaders tanks further.

Bangadesh Rifles just decided to take the pecking order into their own hands and planned a ‘private’ restructuring assignment - all because of a little comp & ben problem (Compensation & Benefits as the HR folks)!! When the army – the most disciplined of organisations - takes up cudgels in such fashion, one is politely reminded that every organisational entity is adrift with cultural and process based underpinnings and no one is immune to it !

The terrorist attack on the Srilankan cricket team proves the myth of inviolability of sportsmen - wrong and reminds us to leave security matters to the heads of the state and policy makers ; we would be best served by listening to their analysis on security and take their recommendations seriously and not plough through it in television debates. The stodgy IPL organisers and Mr. Modi better keep their fingers crossed during the event and pray to all their Gods to revent untoward events – we are in no way different from a Pakistan when it comes to these issues. The TV anchors may also be quietly nudged around the corner – ‘attack on Pakistan opens discussion on the fragility to the security cover of this region and not only Pakistan’.

After a few cursory glances at the cricket match at Christ Church, took a moment to savour the forty third century of our own ‘baby faced dynamite’ Sachin Tendulkar. Being around his age, cricket according for me has been laced with pages from his illustrious career and in every Indian match – my sole concern like millions of Indians,has remained – How much did Tendulkar make ? True, the senior most player of the team displays the kind of enthusiasm that one would expect from a rank fresher or a rookie !