Ajith Nair

There are some examples that I have seen recently that tell me that the journey towards a service oriented economy is not mere lip service. Let me start with what is or rather was the biggest point of pain in my life, the Internet connection, rather the lack of it most times. Like most white collar Indians, the predilection for anything multi national is a given. So I preferred Hathway over Tata Indicom, Satyam or even the sloth MTNL. Let me summarise my experience succinctly, Hathway delighted me on only one count, shutting up when I asked them to, over an inebriated, frustrated phone conversation. Repeated line drops, non collection of payment cheques (also implying no payment avenues except home collection of cheques), adhoc disconnections, adhoc disconnections (the former meaning purposive, the latter meaning vagaries of the connectivity). So I had a black cable emerging like an umbilical cord from my laptop but then the baby was long dead. With a heavy heart and an unjustly light ...

Looks like a dog strayed in the path of a Kingfisher airline . It’s interesting to note that dogs seem to have a way of getting through most security cordons. Follow street dogs around any fence and they will show you a breach that no one could anticipate. Dogs have been the most evolutionary creature of our times. They way they have adapted to rapid urbanization is telling of how this animal might be still around when humans as a race are long on, maybe that’s saying too much. Right since when Laika visited space to when Zanjeer sniffed out RDX, the celebration of canines has gone hand in hand with pelting them with stones. In urban centers, you’ll find dogs cluster smartly around where the sources of food are. This could be outside where an animal lover lives to the vicinity of garbage bins. You can also see visible efforts by dogs to mingle. So they’re curled up at bus stops, right there around marriage halls, frequently found at the heels of anyone carrying a food bag and probably ...

Ratan Tata will now drive Jaguar or even a land Rover. His servants servants will drive the Nano. Singur will produce the small car and London will deliver the big ones. Meanwhile, we also have some very rich Indians in the Forbes list and many more Indians buying yachts and islands. A crore is spelt easier than peanuts and doesn’t have too much value unless it has four or more digits in front of it. Personally, I know people who have invested a crore to buy matchbox houses at corners of Mumbai which don’t get much light, what an irony. Everybody wants their kid to have an IB education, a foreign degree and earn the highest salary. Money seems to have overcrowded our minds and our conversations. Off late, in Mumbai’s public transport, you can find ample examples of wannabe noveau riche conversations. Right from ESOP windfalls, to making a killing in the stock market (sometimes being killed by it too), the average Mumbaikar (probably Indian too) is looking at the cash tills all the time...

Don’t look the RSS is changing,. Especially because it’s changing its trousers, to be precise the khaki no longer is mandatory. There are several, reasons that come immediately to mind when one thinks about the Sangh shorts. The first fiendish thought, and there are many more to come, is on the fact that the shorts revealed more than it concealed. True to the vociferous nature of many a RSS spokesperson, the khaki shorts was also flamboyant and expansive. The trouble is, such exposure doesn’t augur too well for a party that has repeatedly stood for adequate clothing as the true indicator of moral character and conversely has violently taken down many a skimpily clad poster and people. There are some other rather obvious connections with the khaki, the notorious one being that with the cops. Given that nowadays, everyone from ex cops (KPS Gill) to encounter specialists are getting the wrong end of the (hockey) stick, the RSS probably wants to distance itself from such peeves. Its worthw...

The Mumbai IPL team is practicing on the eve of their first encounter at Wankhede. Standing by the side, Sachin is chewing on his nails. He awaits a crucial encounter. Enter Raj Thackeray, the local goon, and the bone of contention. He is demanding his pound of flesh and a couple of spots in the Mumbai side for the locals. For the first time, inspite of not being on 99, Sachin Tendulkar is tense. Raj comes straight to the point “Chaila (Marathi expression for what the hell!), I want sons of the soil in the team, not some foreign players. Sachin bhau, I respect you, but this is unfair. Aamcha Mumbai cha team, aani phakt ekas marathi manoos (Our Mumbai side and only one Marathi native!) Sachin tries to leave that argument alone, and raises his arms in helplessness. Mukeshbhai entered the stadium just then, two bodyguards and four petis with other lackeys. “Raj bhai kaise ho, suna hai aapko bhi cricket khelna hai?” “Dekho Mukeshbhai, aapke office mein hamare bahut saare ladke hain isliye...

It is very comic to see movie theatre patrons struggle to keep the sanctity of the national anthem alive. For the uninitiated, all movie theatres in Mumbai, play the national anthem before any movie starts. Am not too sure if it happens with the sleazy Pyaasi Jawani kind of movie halls but I can vouch for the others (smart way of making a clean morality statement!) I can imagine why this whole national anthem rendition started. A self appointed upholder of India’s morals would have decided that our country gets corrupted in the movie theatres. So the national anthem was the anti dote that audiences would consume before they expose their senses to debauchery There are multiple spoilers to the national anthem. The one that comes to mind immediately is the fact that most audiences are not in their seats when the national anthem is being played, they’re still strolling in (blame it on traffic, obesity, bad signs in theatres and lack of civic sense). Some people find sadistic pleasure in cr...

Curled up within In an unseasonal cold At the bus stop A petty mongrel old He sees winter clothes People wrapped snug Adjusting their shawls And ear plug Crowds never die At the tea stall And there’s only few Hearing the kulfi call No one ventures to kick him Or pelt stones Life is peaceful So what if there are no bones In a city of cold stares And crowds of strangers There’s someone loving the cold It’s the petty mongrel old

Didn’t take much to get him to do his swansong, did it? A few dropped chances, self appointed critics calling for his head and out walked the man who could have easily blazed victories for Australia for at least two more seasons. That act pretty much sums up a simple family man who loved to give the ball a resounding thump and had gloves that could grab passing thoughts, not to say the red cherry, with alacrity. In the team of seasoned street gangsters that he was part of, he had a cardinal like presence. Not one to claim a wrong dismissal and not one to let go off a right one. He embarrassed his rather greedy team mates on more than one occasion by not lending vociferous support to their dubious appeals for that all important wicket. He wore his conscience on his glove and however hard something thudded into it, the glove would remain unmoved. So when he did appeal, and was he loud, the umpires could trust him with the judgment and not just the appeal (a certain Mr Dravid might veheme...

Both parts of the term SENSEX defy logic. There doesn’t seem to be too much sense in what’s happening at the market, neither is there too much pleasure as connoted by the latter half of the term. Some souls who’ve lost most earnings and their bearings are blaming the Bull installed outside the BSE. That’s quite a U turn for a country reveres its consort the cow and worships Nandi, the Bull, the animal that the Destroyer rides. Of course, off late Nandi-gram has been in the news for all the wrong reasons so when this Nandi sees red either in terms of the Communists in Bengal or the stock exchange crash we seem to have a problem, a big one at that. The bull run is something that I’ve never understood except the Jallikattu kind during Pongal in Tamilnadu, which the Supreme Court recently tried to put a ban on, in vain. During Jallikattu insane young men try to tame an inebraited bull usually causing much damage to men and property. Maybe the apex court should try putting a similar ban on ...

If you thought Ponting was Bhajji’s bunny, think again. Bhajji has competition from a lanky North Indian named Ishant Sharma. If David had the sling against Goliath, Ishant had the swing against Punter. In an hour of relentless interrogation, there were more questions asked than answers given. There were other legends of the bat standing at slips and watching as a rookie from their team undid a legendary opponent. The fielders were incidental, there were hardly any runs coming. Most of them were enjoying the undoing of the most competitive street fighter in modern day cricket. Ponting fumbling against spin is something that even the school kids of Tasmania would tell you about but this fresh script is a promising one. For a man who more often that not has a boundary as his first scoring shot and pulls fast bowlers for six over deep square as if that is where they were always meant to be, being undone by an Indian rookie is unfathomable. A six foot plus, wiry young lad with a bunch of ...

The Insurance industry has a lot to learn from Narendra ‘bhai’. He sells fear of death better than anyone does and this is one sauda where the Gujju doesn’t look at the bhav, he simple buys it. Sar kaatke jiyo, seems to be the triumphant line that 49% of Gujarat seems to be uttering and how. From Gandhigiri to Modigiri from Gandhinagar to Modinagar, from walking miles to make salt to using guile to shield assault, the state has seen it all. To be fair to the man, he’s ushered in development in a state that has always seen calamity, natural or man-made. Development is the sheep’s clothes that the wolf wears, and the polity loves this attire. Predictably, there is a confusing enigma of a quasi carnivore, with the rare slip through of carnal instincts but also the oft portrayal of the loh purush. There is an orgy of fear, caution, awe, respect, admiration and daresay love that gets evoked when the bearded brahmachari brews brouhaha. He’s larger than the party; the sangh blood in him has d...

Flatters to deceive. It’s a bit like Sachin getting out to a full toss after a lovely start. The bad part: The second half could have been another movie. In fact, I wish it were. Hangs like an orphan, poor cousin to a hilarious first half. It’s like sending Chanderpaul out to bat after Lara’s scored a quick fire 60, what a let down. The facts will read a bit like a lousy blood report, but some things have to be said. The ending is a rip off from Karz and Madhumati, wife tells me so. The rip off isn’t all that spectacular and seems a bit like a designer cut gone horribly wrong. Deepika is mostly silent and that’s the highlight, cos she can’t do too much with her face than flaunt her lovely eyes and omnipresent dimple. This part sees the re-birth sequence, a deja ‘woo’ of Arjun Ram-pall into confessing his crime and a chandelier climax. There also is the endless party number where the entire film fraternity is on screen, most being ones who aren’t doing too much work nowadays. Shahrukh h...

An FM channel which plays great Hindi classics was living up to its track record by playing melancholic Mukesh. The cab driver, instantly, switched to the latest Om Shanti Om number and let it stay. I tried to thinking about the last time I had heard a sad song in a new movie release, it was futile. Not that I am a Bollywood buff, but my First Day First Show friends struggled too. In fact, we struggled to name many recent tragedies, except ones like Himesh Reshammiya who are quite tragic, whether in movies or not. The age of melancholy and self pity is out. Looks like the age of celebration, fanfare, and ostentation is here to stay, not just in the movies. We seem to celebrate everything as if it were the last time we’d do it. T20 victory to kid’s birthday parties, Sensex booms to Shahrukh’s six pack. The event becomes irrelevant in the light of the celebration. Celebrity marriages are more about who’s attending, who’s performing, hardly about who’s wedding. The other day’s T20 match ...

A weekend is too short or long depending on whether you’re in office or not. A fortnight back, wife n I decided on a quick exile to the hilly confines of Yercaud (220 km from Bangalore). Hopes of simple living, high thinking led us to the TTDC resort (Tamilnadu Resort), more like last resort in retrospect. Our room supposedly a super deluxe cottage had heritage bathrooms and lots of fauna to boot. The ‘heritage bathroom’, we discovered, was heritage because it hadn’t been cleaned since Rajaraja Chola rode that way many a century ago. It was dimly lit; almost as if it wanted to go unnoticed, in shame. Hot water was confined to within the large sized geyser and didn’t quite manage to find its way out of the tap. Cold water was full of self doubt and made sporadic appearances, making bathing a dry and wet affair. The room had flowery curtains which made you wonder if someone in the vicinity had been relieved of their worn out clothes. Fauna included snails, spiders, grasshoppers and some...

T20 is just like what we used to play every weekend as teenagers. 8 over matches, hard tennis ball, no care in the world and a 1000 window panes to knock over. Hardly any time to settle down; see the bowling and all those nice things mentioned in the coaching manuals. It was downright scything from the word go, some did it better with technique, others just did it. As evening approached 8 overs would come down to 6 and the attitude would become more scavengers like. Standing 4 ft outside the crease to a fast ball, attempting impossible singles, getting away with it, running off overthrows, mock running off every ball, fighting with umpires and crying hoarse on parched mouths shouting abuses at someone who bungled. At the end of the day, there would have been 6 ‘matches’ and a cool kitty of money if it had been our day. Otherwise there would be hell breaking loose, with accusations flying at a rate that would put Ferrari to shame. Dhoni and his boys, took this to a different level, so d...

Ram didn’t remember too much about his village back in Maharashtra except for the face of his mother at sleep, the day that he’d decided to escape. The sparsely occupied room had stood mute while he packed a small rucksack of his torn shorts and shirts, two of them. As the sun rose, Ram was sitting atop a generous bullock cart which would take him to the nearest bus station 50 km away. 12 years passed, during which he had never written to his mother, he had never learnt how to. His only link back home was two hundred rupees that he sent her every month, without fail. The money might bring a smile to her face and tell her that all was well with her son. A Sunday evening when he had finished delivering all the courier letters, Ram stood next to the sea. He loved doing this, as among the thousands of people who thronged there Sunday evening, he was anonymous. He was not the son of the farmer who lost hope and committed suicide; he was not the brother of two sisters who had been married o...

Choice is always welcome, especially if it involves something that’s remained a monopoly for 80 years . In fact, it’s quite surprising that this didn’t take place concomitant with the liberalization of the economy. We had newer cars, the congress lost power regularly, more variety of soap (both TV and bathing) but the same cricket board. The problem with the BCCI, for ever and recently has been that non- cricketers have been taking decisions on behalf of cricketers. So you have an agricultural minister who runs both Baramati and BCCI, the man who preceded him was a seasoned baniya. Cricket some might argue is serious business; my contention is that is its cricket first and business later. So do we have genuine choice now, I don’t think so. Subhash Chandra is a shrewd businessman, don’t know too much about how much he loves cricket. He’s roped in the man who brought tears to eyes in 1983 and tears to his own eyes in 2000. The Haryana Hurricane is now an emotional whirlwind with a financ...

After Killings, Sense of Unity Surprises Newark

The Times carried a thought provoking article on which way the world could be headed. Our lives are increasingly governed by the principles of exclusion. Some of these examples readily come to mind 1. Our housing societies have multiple layers of security, not the smallest of insects could steal their way in. Have you ever noticed how any stranger who 'walks' into a society gets treated at the gate by the watchmen compared to say someone who drives in? 2. We have AC cars that shut the smells of the city out and tinted glasses that effectively color our view of dirty uncleaned streets and urchin 3. Even when we walk, we effectively use ear plugs of all kinds that dish out music to the ears... who wants to hear the traffic honk or the cacophony at the railway station 4. Ever noticed the ease with which people dismiss slums off when the make statements like these "I've just bought a flat, actually it's under construction. You know what, I got a steal cos there are sl...

Bobilli Vijaykumar has a lot to write everyday, considering that he seems to be the only spors journalist that TOI has. In today's TOI he typefies the Indian attitude to wins After running through the article, you'd probably think that the title doesn't do justice to the content. The first half is a diatribe, the second half eulogy of sorts. For me this typefies how journalists today are shallow opinion makers who don't have the conviction to follow through and play the long hard innings. Learned cricket lovers will empathise with Dravid, Vaughan being the first. For a team labelled poor travelers, this move was conservative yes, cowardly, no. The same journalist would have pounded Dravid to pieces if we'd asked the Poms to follow on and lost. Remember, we don't have a great record batting last, do we?. So the phrase BVK uses " A few scared minds and a defensive approach" does not do justice to the kind of cricket that we played through this series. Za...