In 2012 I resolve to...

Just a few more days to welcome another year and I'm not surprised that the year-end rule is followed this time, too. Resolutions are back with a vengeance. The same old rut : will hit the gym more, eat less and save more, will change the job, pick up that hobby and try for a baby et al !

Over the top of my head flew a few ideas that could make the list of resolutions shorter the following year, if adhered to.

All employees (Male & Female):

1. Stop walking in with a sullen face every morning. (No one is indispensable. If you are working at any place it's because you choose to do so.)
2. Stop making your presence felt at the workplace and do the job you are hired for. (Learn to earn your keep).
3. Stop looking for brownie points when you step in for your absent colleagues. (Points earned thus can turn into long ropes soon).
4. If you call in sick, please have some patience. Do not brag about the party you hosted the very day you return.
5. Stop cribbing about others not doing their job if you choose to be seen with the Boss. (Nothing comes free and easy).

All employers (Male & Female)

1. Stop acting blind. If you can't hike salaries, good words can keep the morale of staff up.
2. Strengthen your spine and walk up to the employees who are not heard or easily seen. They help you meet daily deadlines, not the ones who make the loudest noise and shake hands with you.

Netizens:

1. Stop posting positive quotes on facebook just because others are doing it. (First practise them, if it works for you then go ahead)
2. Stop replying to comments on discussions just because you need to have the last word. (Let not your character be an open case-study)
3. Stop reposting portraits of self that received fewer comments. (Brush up on response-analysing skills)

Housewives & Livelihood earners on returning home :

1. Stop complaining about lack of time to exercise. (Spend less time at the dining table or on internet - whichever is your bigger vice)
2. Don't wait to be invited by teetotaller friends. Visit them. They are human beings too just like the company you enjoy of men who booze or women who gossip or vice-versa.
3. Stop judging others even before you interact with them. (At least you'll learn why they never took the first step).
4. Learn to compliment boastful and I-know-it-all acquaintances the moment they get on a roll. (That's the easiest way to shut them up at the earliest and you get a chance to exercise positiveness)
5. Understand everything with relatives is relative. Either take their words with a sack of salt or ignore them, whichever is less labourious.

Teenagers :

1. Stop slaughtering English language in the name of virtual lingo, lest you forget the correct version. Your kids will be required to study A-Z alphabets and the basic words. 'd' for 'the' will take decades more to make it into the English lexicon.

Tweens (9 to 12 year-olds)

1. Begin to eat at least one vegetable and a fruit once a week.
2. Don't create facebook accounts. Wait for your turn. You will not regret it.

Anna Hazare walks into history books

It's all happening at a frenzied pace. With just a few days more for the winter session of parliament to end, Anna team is pressing the hazard buttons harder, the Opposition is desperately muddying waters further to pounce on the last fish; media is haunting anybody termed a politician to air their views; columnists are squeezing in a few lines before the next drama begins...

Whatever happens in this Parliament session I’m not particularly worried (apart from a chunk of public money wasted yet again with nothing constructive to show for) because there’s a hero out there. No, not in Mariah Carey’s heart. In the hearts of millions of Indians.

Anna Hazare – the man you can either hate or love but cannot ignore.

The Grand Old Man of modern India is determined to run the course. How long it will take, only time will say for the Bill is just the first lap of the long marathon he has set on. It’s a long track out to thousands of village and city corners. But he has already carved a path – one into history books. I can see children naming his head on exercise sheets and mugging up his bio-data for exams.

If the two Indian of the Year awards he is conferred with is anything to go by, it’s just a matter of time when regional news channels will queue up propelling his move into the world of academics.

He simply deserves to be studied. For it's no mean feat to have aroused the collective conscience of the nation after six decades. To have shaken the masses and the classes equally is commendable. No wonder he needed the aid of two heroes. His provocative speeches many a times have not settled down well with me. A Gandhian cannot influence the electorate any one way, I believe. But guess that’s the Shivajinism needed to wake up hi-tech mortals from their conscious slumber.

However, I wonder where his impatience stems from. If the so-called powers that be did mention the winter session for the Bill, shouldn’t he have given them the space to act? Threats of fasts, debates, mud-slinging… all through were not called for. This is when I’m forced to believe reports in certain sections of the media about his “team calling the shots”. Definitely a person who has worked against odds and transformed his entire village will know better. Then why this rush?  Waited for 60 long years is the oft-repeated conclusion. No more time to be wasted!

So what happens if another session goes waste? Will Annaji fast a fourth time before the year ends? Well, it's just another week that we need to wait. Fast or protest, the Bill will see the light of the day, indeed. As for the fruits of the proposed Bill, it shouldn’t matter if it takes another 60 years to cleanse the nation, for the process for another first is begun. The world’s largest democracy hitherto is dusting its image clean!

So shouldn’t the architect of the ‘Largest Clean Democracy’ have a title? Hero is too frivolous. Modern-day Gandhi? -That’s ignoring his other role model Shivaji. Father of Modern India? – that’s the easy way out. Settle for Indian? Should we check with Kamal Hassan for the copyright?

Networking on social media sites - a sham

As I sat to write today, I realised it has been almost two weeks since I penned my thoughts as I was tied up at work more than I could help. Neither did I follow networkers nor checked mails. Worse still felt guilty as I didn’t tune in to any new channels on TV either.  However, thanks to the wisdom literature I’m chewing on of late, I looked at the half-full portion of my glass. And realised that I learnt quite a few valid lessons.

Here are a few…

Off from facebook gives you space to think about yourself .

Off from twitter gives you ample time to form your own opinion about subjects you love and not tow others viewpoints.

Not checking your emails is not suicidal. Any earth-shattering news will be delivered on your phone anyways.

Not tuning in to news bulletin will leave you less stressed and less depressed.

As I was reveling in the feel-good endorphins released by the two-week hiatus, one of my family friends came in singing praises of LinkedIn.  It’s worth spending time on LinkedIn; I got several new leads; It’s the forum for serious professionals…

Even before I could debate its necessity in my head, I was half-way through thinking of a login name. Old habits die hard.

No sooner I keyed in my job details than a list of ‘people you might know’ appeared on the side. Curious enough, I browsed to see my everyday colleagues and acquaintances stare at me.

Spent a few minutes more and discovered the professional networking link is yet another mockery of a platform. Majority of those I knew are upper management. Reporters are editors; clerks are managers; assistants are managing a team of not less than10.

There are several ‘experienced journalists’, ‘experienced administrators’, ‘experienced sales executives’… with no job profiles mentioned – now how do you define ‘experienced’?

I also learnt some bitter truths…a few diploma holders are in the upper echelons while some post-graduates are way lower at their respective workplace hierarchy.

What a sham, if potential employers were to scan LinkedIn accounts of jobseekers. Gosh.

Being a professional for about 15 years; being on facebook for almost two years and on twitter for a decent while, I conclude thus…

Truth No1: Be it workplace or networking sites making your presence felt is what matters.

Truth No2: Serious networkers will have ‘real human contacts’ not ‘friends’ on social networking sites.

Truth No3: Maximum response on facebook will be on your personal pictures; followed by YouTube videos. Replies to any serious discussion or suggestions will be only ‘like’.

Truth No4: twitter accounts are to follow celebrities and compete with ‘fellow friends’ on other sites in breaking that bit of ‘newssips’.

Truth No5: Take professional details on LinkedIn with a spoon full of salt.

I admit social networking sites have, indeed, played key roles in raising social awareness in the recent past so much so governments are spending sleepless nights trashing out counter-ideas. But, herein again I see a trend. Only a social cause or celebrity posts will get mass response. A common man who sincerely wishes to network to enrich himself will find few true friends in the virtual world. 

Pocket money

Scene: A lower middle-class home with only the head of the family earning a meagre salary

Characters: Father and his teenage daughter

Situation: Month-end; Father needs urgent cash...Asks his daughter if she has something left from her pocket money. The college-going girl's deadly yet pathetic stare sends the man into his past, only to be jolted back into the present as he hears her suggestion to the monthly problem...

A tetragenarian father

On the date of 20

Asks his college-going daughter –

‘Did you spent your pocket money this month?’

………..…The days of scarlet blood

Thoughts of a robust future

Faith in the best education pocketed

Confident of tearing shackles

I held my first pay pack.

Humble a son

Succumbed to his mother’s choice

Beautiful a girl, I loved her whole

Partner she became, our dreams were green

Wife she became as her womb grew heavy

Mother she chose to be

Far-sighted was she

Decided two kids and no more

Dignity mine was kept

Reputed schools my kids stepped in

And when grades they collected excellent

Pride mine soared high

Sublimed in joy

The world was at our feet

But college did they step in

Status of mine jolted out

Their career became my thought

Donations and bribes apart from fees and influence

New arrivals and cosmetics

To excursions and study tours

Politics and authenticity to

Reservations and corruption

Made me knock at my courage constantly

My wife dusted her certificates

Rhymes she recited for a valuable sum

As our dream became childrens’ careers

Our efforts never flickered once

Their personal vehicle was our determination

Their strength was our love

We won on all fronts

But for their ‘whys’

Why can’t we own a bike of our won?

Why don’t we plan a holiday to a hill station?

Why can’t I pursue painting as a hobby?

Why should the movie wait for next month?..........

‘Here papa

Why don’t you increase our pocket-money

So that every month-end

We can give you the increased amount

At least we’ll get to spend our pocket-money.’

Sandal fallacy

An incident over the weekend got me thinking! And to imagine it is a pair of footwear that is intriguing me is not the least ridiculous.

Or is it?

Friday evening as I dressed up my daughter for her music festival at school, I was mentally shortlisting my own attire for the evening for I also had a dinner invite. Zeored in on an off-white and lemon-yellow set.

Had a couple of hours on hand to join our child at school, so caught up with the weekend mails.

However, while I was maneuvering through the inbox, a thought passed by me - What if my sandals were to fall apart? I ignored and continued with the more fruitful activity.

An hour later as I was doing my hair, the same thought surfaced again. Instinctively, I left my grooming and headed to the shoe rack. Picked up an off-white one and, as if the husband's approval will keep at bay anything untoward, I asked him rather indirectly, "Will this go with my dress".

He being the victim (had to pick me up from my knees several times in public) of my walks on heels only checked to ensure they were flats.

Just as we locked the door, I had a second thought because the first one surfaced yet again. Stood looking at my feet for a good two minutes and decided to re-enter to choose a non-matching pair. What if an ill-matching colour wards off impending bad luck? Ludicrous idea, but I went ahead.

Unlocked the door and picked up another pair when I heard a voice from under the breath: "This is what happens when women have too many..."

Whoever said men don't mutter!

Anyways, the drive to school held no surprises. The traffic led us up until the parking lot, which was followed by a musical search that helped us prolong our patience equally longer.

Just as I walked towards the school gate, my right foot felt heavy and dragged behind. I looked down to see the sole gaping open-mouthed at me.

All through the programme I sat decently with my left leg crossed over to conceal the temporarily handicapped right. I didn't dare walk, yet got threatened by my little lady. "Don't go in front of my Ma'am."

As we drove for dinner, she fired another: "I am ashamed. We are not going to a restaurant. It's a hotel. You walk behind me ok?"

However, I should admit that I managed well as I didn't receive any odd stares. As I stood speaking to my friend, lo! came apart the strap of the left sandal.

With the sole of one and the strap of the other apart, I wondered if it was my thought that was powerful enough to disable me…As you think so shall you reap!

Or was it the other way around... It had to be so, therefore I was warned. Premonition!

Or was it lack of housekeeping…old pairs need to be replaced with new ones!

I ran the analysis past my family and in unison came the reply…Old pairs out. FULL STOP

My morning date with a cabbie

October 31, 2010: It was just another morning.

4.15am: The alarm woke the husband up. He in turn shook me awake. My march for the day began thus. Like any other weekday.

4.25am: Off to kitchen from the washroom, I packed three takeaways.

4.55am: I settled to relish the morning cuppa. And I was assured of a relaxed day ahead.

Am a wee bit superstitious when it comes to having the morning tea. If I rush through and gulp it down standing, I'll have a hectic and not-so-pleasant day. So even at the cost of not having a proper scrub, I ensure to have a ceremonious tea session.

Whoever said it's all in the mind!

5.30am: Kissed goodbye to my sleepy child and wished the husband a good day and stepped out.

As on most days, I hail a cab to work...

5.40am: A taxi pulled over in less than a few minutes after I reached the main road.

The back door was locked.

Promptly the passenger side front window rolled down. I told my destination and waited for the driver to unlock the door behind.

"Jam madaam. Aagey come," said the driver.

Hopped into the front seat of the Toyota Camry and strapped myself closely beside the driver.

"You Indian?" he asked.

"Yes", I replied as I enjoyed the dawn breaking over Dubai through the open window.

"You working?"

"Umm."

My years of taxi experience has taught me several tricks to keep a nosy cabbie at bay in a not-so-rude manner. I continued looking out, when came the next query with a comment.

"Gerrils going earrly. What bork".

I ignored him.

"Married?"

I continued looking out.

"You underrstand Enggalis I know." 

A few seconds later, oops! he breaks the car with a jerk.

"What's wrong with you?" I blurted out.

A roaring laugh and the car stinks of tobacco. Annoyed I looked at him, when he triumphantly announced, "I say you know Enggalis. Speak, time pass."

As the car picked up speed I turned to the window, when he began banging on the dashboard.

"I like Indian gerrils, I like...," he sang.

"Stop the car," I said.

"You afraid," he roared and clapped. Both his hands off the steering. He looked, indeed, scary. Open-mouthed laughter exposed his stained set of broken teeth between overgrown orange-coloured beard. That was the first time in about 10 minutes that I looked at him. His scalp was shining and had a few strands of hair coloured matching weird orange. His brows were furrowed and a set of bushy eyebrows that almost touched down his deep set murky eyes.

He rolled the window down to spit out before answering me.

"No stop", he angrily said. His eyes were reddish, too, I noticed. "You call I stop," he added before accelerating the car and maniacally began changing lanes.

I took the mobile announcing, "I'm calling the police", even as I slammed myself for not heeding to advices. (The husband always reminds me to note the cab's number before getting in).

'Police kalliwali (kalliwali means 'I don't care' in Arabic), he said and sat staring at me as if challenging me.

I put a hand out and waved at the vehicle passing by, thinking my action would force him to either stop the car or behave well and drive me to work.  Instead, he rolled the window up from his side laughing loud and playing the music even louder.

Luckily, I hadn't said which lane and building I had to be dropped at. No sooner than we entered the area (my workplace being about 200 metres away), I demanded to get off.

"This building?"

"Yes", I said opening the wallet.

Heaved a sigh of relief and crossed the road. Taking in the morning breeze to cool my nerves I walked leisurely. As I was at the gate a car screeched to a halt closely besides me.

The maniac driver, flaying his wrinkled hands (even in the shock I did notice coloured stones set in heavy silver on three of his fingers).

"You lying. I catch..."

I walked in and didn't hear the rest.

The Bachchan gameplan of marketing off-work Ash

I can't wait for the Bachchan bahu to give birth to her baby. Sick and tired of the hullabaloo since Big B tweeted to break the news during the IIFA weekend. Ash's off-work marketing gameplan started there...An announcement when Bollywood was under global spotlight. What a beginning!

The media is rueing and ranting. And the Bachchan clan pretentiously seems to be doing the same, only to add fuel to the imaginations of nothing-better-to-report journos and bask in the inferno of news space generated. Celebrities will go any length to remain in news. Especially, when off work.

But doesn't media have any ethics? Celeb news is fine. But this is insane! And sad that a section has fallen to such low levels in the name of survival.

The pregnancy tweet took the reels of 'Heroine' to the cans dragging along the relationship with the mom-to-be, announced Bhandarkar unit, only to publicly praise Ash's professionalism when she returned the cheque later.

The former half of the story was 'Breaking News', while the entertainment sections of the media fed on the rest for months on end.

The Bollywood beauty (oops! international beauty - I'll be stoned by her crazy fan) had the enlightened calling to return the amount only after a few weeks of making news. Why?

Then came a small-time starlet claiming she saw Ash in some fertility clinic in Bangkok, kicking up the boy over girl issue. Some jerks in the media tagged the the twins story to her allegations and kept the news running for weeks. Father-in-law who takes to twitter of late to clarify and post family updates has been silent. Why?

That was followed by the hospital news. A Mumbai tabloid claimed to know what time Ash walks in for her appointments early morning and how many rooms have been booked in which hospital. This led to the C-section or natural delivery debate, even as Mamma Bachchan unveiled a grand baby shower for daughter-in-law. While the list of celebrities who attended the 'Godh bharai' was promptly 'leaked', the actor's spokesperson came out to say a line - all delivery related news is wrong. But where's the tech-savvy Bachchan brigade.

That followed the 11.11.11 speculation...and still a suffocating silence is all that comes from the family in question. Why?

At last the Broadcast Editors’ Association in India reportedly acted...came up with guidelines on media reporting the birth. So much for media ethics! But what guarantee it's not drafted by the Bachchans. Even before one could give the first family of Bollywood the benefit of doubt, lo! comes Big B's barrage of tweets...the last one reads, "Every other day some ridiculous, malicious and completely false allegations are thrown at me! Smiley!"

Typically Amitabh Bachchan!

(Read related blog on http://nishasanjeev.blogspot.com/2011/09/sr-bachchan-and-his-junior-bahu-can.html)