Does your unique personality fingerprint stand a chance ?

Innately, I had been less used to inviting attention whithersoever I go, for the very reason that I was a mix of reservedness and gregariousness. Courtesy, my semi-urban outlook in my early youth days. I had been encouraged to believe that I need to be identifiable with those around me to gain acceptance into their social milieu. That is, "you've got play the sheep if you've got to graze with sheep.... and don't beg to be any different dear", I'd been lovingly urged. "Socialize as they do", "be attired like them", "play and work like they do", "don't strive for higher things" ... I have been egged on saying that these would pave the way for nurturing an affable and gainly personality and help win that "mediocre" acceptance with the world. So, I have been urged to go with the crowd and take the world view than to stand apart in the crowd.

But, utterly contrariwise, for reasons unbeknown to me, I have evolved into a quizzical person who poses himself the basic why, what, where, when, how and who before deciding on any course of action before drawing meaning from it. Similarly applied, it's also habitual for me to mentally measure and size up the scheme of things before sparking off fresh friendships and relationships too. I also tend to pre-rationalize my wardrobe choices, the things that I purchase into my home and also the once-in-a-lifetime decisions I take as well, among other things. To add, I have also loved to blend rationale with the Holy Scripture instead of blindly tailing the herd thereby developing my own personal God-assisted view over the world view. Well, that's how I have some good or bad reason been and wish to be in the very future.

It's not that changing one's approach to building relationships or attiring oneself or making choices in life in tune with the general world views, as the world wants, would take too long thereby gaining acceptance. In fact, a concerted and redirected effort down that path would make that just next to easy, but on the contrary would be way-way off what serves to shape an individual's (my) unique personality fingerprint. There have been times when I have had an immature aching to mimic others personality dimensions, but it seems now, that my gray cells have rationally evolved over time, developing en-route a natural set of differentiated choices, sense of style and even demeanor that newbies in my circle of acquaintances find interesting to deal with.

For example. Style, one's fashion statement, often proclaims the type of man in you. Perfectly agreed. However, style must be a product of one's cultivation, personal choice, age and self-defined realm of comfort. Style, according to me, works better if it is a reflection of your actual self and not an assumed self. I tend to draw both awe and ire in equal measure for turning up at important friend and family functions in my passe garb, which I feel comfy beneath. But let me ask you this. Does Rahul Gandhi fail to charm us with his immaculate white kurta pyjama with narrow flares, or does Palaniyappan Chidambaram go begging for his reputation when attired in his starched dhoti and shirts ? No doubt, we can spruce them up with Armani and Rohit Bal, but only with no uncertain disaster. But, these are folks whose personalities are seen accentuated only when they adopt their personally crafted choices. By the way, apologies for using these gentlefolk, Rahul and PC to drive home the point.

Next, I often like deriving methods out of madness. That is, though I am a bit disorganized in my functioning with my proverbial forgetfulness to add, I humbly admit, that I yet have the God-given acumen to deduce order out of chaos through good reasoning. I guess I can assimilate pieces of disjointed information from various sources, analyze them for logical conclusions and present them in a highly simplified and cogent fashion. Now, with most of my little world being alien to these traits, I tend to naturally be condemned for, what they conclude as my "nonsensical" recommendations. Don't be a jerk Ranjith, we all have a different view of the problem, they say. You better get on board with us. Phew !! Do I have a choice ? Well, yea maybe or maybe not.

Now. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, we often say. Biologically I am a bit myopic, but, artistically I am not. I take to enjoying beautiful flowers and birds, scenic surroundings, wonderful people and artistic workmanship in general through a varied pair of eyes, though I am not a connoisseur of refined tastes. However, I often tend to find certain things comely and captivating which others would not even prod with a twenty feet barge pole. Again, another reason to get into an debate with my little society.

My preeminent inheritance, discovered serendipitously, is my passion for reading which I believe my father bequeathed upon me. I have developed a diverse appetite for reading literature ranging from my passion from the Holy Bible, medieval classics, non-fictional and fictional international best sellers, books on management and markets to newspaper dailies, with the compulsory exception of Bollywood tabloids and India's filthy politics. I just love to read something or the other.

Music is as soul. And, playing on the piano and classical guitar only nourishes it. I love to unwind after a hectic week over a session of gospel jamming with a friend or piano-ing into my headphones alone late into the night or strumming the guitars accompanied by my baritone hums or deciphering new unexplored chord progressions. In all this, I would sense waves of hate and envy wafting across my room when folks around realize that they have not even the faintest smell of music about themselves.

These are only some of my constituent personality building blocks which give me my unique fingerprint, like everyone sure has of his or her own. However, my fight for acceptance within my world despite (in their terms) being off-beat and not being them, is quite hard to portray through words. But the fight itself is most often won than lost. And while they all sneer, rubbish and reject me, I regardless manage a loud and a hearty laugh at them.

A Back-to-basics lesson on Pride ... from the Rabbi !!

I near diurnally sit through Leadership Team meetings to discuss business performance issues when I habitually lean on my inherent know-how and nurtured competencies (or at least I thought that I possessed them) to churn-out views and recommendations to our Teams. But, I was recently in a forum where I was in appalling out-of-harmony with the proceedings simply because some of the commodity market and financial strategy theories that were up for debate were far beyond my reach of comprehension, leaving me forlorn. This had happened to me a few occasions earlier on in different settings, but I did not quite feel the pinch incisively biting into my thickened hide until this time around.

It is not that their theorizing was about strategies too alien to me, but for some reason I began to strangely sense that my grey-cells had slipped into stand-by mode and were not tuning in with the wavelength of the group. Muted, sidelined and my ego scalded I had just resigned from the conference room, when heaven’s radio crackled with the Lord’s voice on air with his message for my ears concerning “pride taking a fall in the middle of the hall” inevitably someday. I sure realized that it was a “close call on a bad fall” that grim afternoon.

As I drove home that evening, I meditated on the Bible that has God’s words on record saying “pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall” and about how it’s the only human trait that could turn the Sovereign God himself to become one’s adversarial and resisting force. I shuddered at my pathetic state of spiritual degradation and my estrangement from God towards more reliance on the self, and went down on my knees that night before Him pleading for His compassionate mercies. It was only after a thorough work of conviction, repentance and confession that I received the assurance that my folly of high-mindedness was forgiven me. I realized that it was yet another back-to-basics lesson, this time on humility, a “Christian Living 101 refresher” if you will, taught in God’s unique masterly style, that the takeaways would surely stay forever etched in my mind. Bless Him !!

Personal values over Organizational values !!

The blogger itch caught up with me last night and set me on course to get this one going. The itch was promoted on seeing a contrasting view of Organizational values pitted against Personal values or ethics in a matter relating to a call-to-duty in recent times.

I do understand the importance of Organizational value systems and how they serve to provide a unifying framework to set in order and regulate employee behavior. A large Organization as mine is, is tantalizingly teetering on risk's edge if some of the vast array of it's governing policies, processes and practices are either haply or willingly misinterpreted by one mindless employee in a deviant way. It could create dire and irreversible consequences, even similar to the extent of an Enron debacle. A regulatory framework of dos and do-nots and must-bes and must-not-bes is undoubtedly imperative in this situation, given that the societies from which Organizations draw from for it's employee pool are not governed by a common or homogeneous set of Personal value systems.

People come shaded in a variety of hues. Arrogant to meek, violent to timid, shady to transparent, honest to ill-intentioned, industrious to sloppy, sharp to dull, submissive to dismissive, make to break, good to evil etc. You name the adjectives and you can identify people sitting on it's extreme degrees and also in the whole spectrum in between. Organizations these days literally struggle to cope with a mind boggling variety of Personal value types in it's employee gene-pool. They simply succumb and go down on their knees to the fact that they can do nothing about changing how people feel, think and behave in a way that is only positively charged and upright. Abjectly unable as they are, in positively influencing and changing people's personal values, they tend to take the toughies stand rather. The regulatory stand. The policing route so to speak. Watch and whack. Wielding the taskmaster's stick rather than dangling a carrot-like sweetener to induce the needed Personal change.

I used to wonder at how Organizations, Governments and Kings ... such powerful entities have time and again been rendered helpless and powerless when it comes to changing a person's values. My personal reason being - they grossly blunder in deciphering the root of the problem, so vainly end up just clipping at the resurgent stems and branches spending money by it's billions in the process. Oh !! what a waste.

But at the same time I am overawed by the sheer magnitude, power and grandeur hidden in Jesus Christ and the Word of God and how it brings about mass change across the world. How hordes of people who once were full-blown sinners (as I was almost too) who were chained their lifetime to ill-begotten habits let go of them for good in just a moment's notice. Drunkards. Smokers. Revellers. Fornicators. Murderers. Abusers. All doing a volte-face to their past life prompted by the gentle urging of this One Man. No whips or whacks. Just His words. I think there is a lesson or two for Organizations too for the taking. The solution could perhaps lie in letting themselves be Evangelized. Absurd as I may sound to some non-Christian readers, I emphatically think that there exists no better means to strike at the root of values-based Organizational issues for good than through Jesus. Any takers ?

A poetic war of words !!

Reader discretion advised : Don't read if you aren't yet aged 18 or above. Lol !!

I recently ran into a long lost friend of mine from childhood days as he managed to somehow G-mail me after nearly a decade. Being a Medical Doctor by profession, I would agree that it was natural for his words to bear reference to elements of the human anatomy to make his point of view on some matters. Funnily enough, our initial exchange of pleasantries thereafter made room for quite serious poetic exchanges on a somewhat personally guarded territory, and it went like this before it came to a abrupt close. While I terribly hate to adopt the use of deplorable language in the event of a need for a tit-for-tat retort to convey rebuke, the situation here warranted some sternness (not filthiness ... God forgive me if I did so !!) in the language to resend a missive in fitting measure to the dispatcher of it...rather give the Doctor a acrid taste of his own medicine.

Pal :
Hi mate !! U jolly well mate,
Ere 'tis too late
Or u'll reach a state, when u cant find the gate,
And then, don't ever blame ur fate.

Deejay :
Let not the quest for the "gates" here ;
From heaven's gate cause you to err.
A strait and narrow gate that is to heaven, Sir;
So, save yourself from your eye's dreary blur.

Pal :
God didn't fashion the ball,
For it to wither and fall;
But so that man could develop the gall,
To lead a family .. wife, children and all to the shopping mall.

Deejay :
A ball or two sure on man spells well;
But alas they'll wither, rot and burn in hell.
So cleave to Him as on this earth you dwell;
Lest sounds on you the soul's death knell.
For why did He taste bitter vinegar and gall;
Was not that to make Himself your all.
So turn your gaze from that pendant ball;
And, I plead, fix it rather on Jesus et al.

"They ate, drank and rose up to play" - Exodus 32:6

I am quite often shunned as a nutcase by my friends, a religious nerd by my kin and an android by my colleagues for being utterly out-of-sync with the present times. Reason, I apparently do not measure up to the "eat-drink-for-tomorrow-we-die" ideologies of this fast-paced world. Yes, I am discarded as an outlier in statistical terms. So, am I dejected for how the world frowns and gnashes it's teeth at me ? Heck !! No..and never !! Read on to know why I care little for it.

There have been such sweeping changes to our professional and social milieu that we often tend to get pressurized to alter our lifestyles to accommodate them. It is normal for a sprinkling of feasting, partying and get to-gethers to usually vie for a slot in our yearly calenders. The call from friends and colleagues is so inviting and tantalizing that it's hard to decline their sincere requests for association. People these days, especially the young scions of the burgeoning upper middle class seem to create a mark for themselves with jazzy phrases like "partying big time", "having a blast/ball", "living life queen/king size" etc. which are, to me, the modern day equivalents to the "ate, drank and rose up to play" of the Mosaic age. If one would take a closer look, it bears direct relevance to the party life. The pub culture. The dance fever. The revelry in groups. The very "worship of enjoyment" that is, where divine sanity goes for a walk and moral depravity gradually seeps in.

I draw the ire of my office superiors for forthrightly turning down requests for parties and bashes which are laced with doses of "fun and frolic", and in return get branded a "non team-player" in the eyes of the majority. And believe me, it is tough to stand grounded in your personal preferences and religious principles these days, for all the powers out there simply won't let you to, without a challenge. But, this is where my Lord's manifold graces uphold me in my struggles to live the Word as Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego endeavored to, and manifestly justifies me in the presence of the accusing fingers. So, I am spitefully cussed at for what I am, but I just cheerfully pooh-pooh the volleys for God's sake and manage to train my ears differently. I agree that living the "Organizational value systems" in our professions is undoubtedly important, but not so much as compared to living by our "Personal values". So, they continue to play the tricky team-player card against me, while I play the my deck close to my omniscient and omnipotent Lord's chest.

So, dear Christian reader, are you still excusing yourself for your indulgences ? Does not he who excuses himself in this matter, accuse himself ?

Deejay, the Chitthappa !!

25th June of this year will be written in our family history books as an outstandingly memorable day, for twas on this day, that the Lord chose to "open the windows of heaven and pour us out a blessing, that we could not find room enough to receive it". It is quite special in that it saw the twin events of the emergence of Ajith Junior (my brother's first kid) into this world and the long awaited coronation of this blogwriter as "The Chitthappa" at the same time.

The day however, woefully saw me yet strung to my office till late in the evening, busy as a bee, equipping my Leadership with a few key Regional updates to be made to the soon-to-visit CEO of our company. With the work finally done, I was updating my calender and was about to close shop when the mobile suddenly whirred in my pocket. A lazy drawl-of-a-"hello" from my side was enough to cause my jubiliant Mom, who was already besides herself with joy by then, to bubble forth and spill the news of Junior's timely and safe arrival instantly all over me. The tidings was such sweet music to the ears that I let her generously drench me with it all over again a few more times, and even as we shared the joy, we glorified our good Lord for remembering our earnest pleas and prayers. Since then I couldn't wait to get my arms around him in his swathing bands, but wasn't able to until the evening of yesterday. So, I managed my first date with Junior only on the 27th, but nonetheless relished every minute of my time to the uttermost when I giggled, chuckled, whistled, cooed, hooted and made faces to him, letting loose my immature peurile insticts that had remained bridled in me for quite a while. It would've been sheer fun to carry on with him late into the night, but, he had already done his dinner, was yawning like a walrus and was slowly downing his shutters for the night with his soft whimpers. So, amidst unfinished discussions about his first name I retired last night having promised him Chitthappa's return very soon and thereafter quite often.

A picture speaks a thousand words !!

Though one doesn't need any IQ to figure out what this picture longs to speak, I thought I would supplement it with a few simple comic "time-tested" equations to lend it more power. Lol !!

Jane x (Bright + Beautiful + Talented) = Jane's borderline personality confusion
Jane's clarity = Joe's abstration
(Jane1 + Jane2 + Jane3) x Teens = (Neighborhood + Mall + College) x Destruction
Cantankerous Jane asleep or not-at-home = Home temporarily free of commotion
Average looking Jane + Ogling passer-by Joes = Jane takes off into a fantasy illusion
Gorgeous Jane + Dirty rich joe = Joe's seduction and perdition
Jane, the charming wife + Joe, the bewitched husband = Joe's lifelong condemnation
Joe, the husband - Jane, the wife = Widower Joe = Joe's liberation
Cool teen jane x (Car or Bike + Sunglasses) = Pedestrian destruction
Average Joe riding bike + Beautiful Jane in the pillion = Bike set on rocket propulsion
Jane x (Boy-cut hair + Jeans + Cigarette + Bandanna + Beer) = Misplaced gender identification
Jane speaks of love + Joe believes = Joe's obvious damnation
Jane in one-way love + Ditching Joe = Jane's nuclear reaction
Faithful Joe + Bitching Jane = Jane joins the new-age sexual revolution

and so, in conclusion.........
Creation of Jane = God's continuing vexation
Jane x (Wise + Virtuous + Kind + Humble) = God's elusive pursuit of perfection

Three cheers to a sheer pear of a peer !!

We all so often hear of outsourcing or offshoring of key knowledge-based or physical activities, but it's from this Dibert classic that I suddenly realized that there are also a few unique misplaced boss-material who can also outsource even their brains so wholesomely. Well, I agree that "originality" sometimes amounts to nothing but "undetected plagiarism", but these people seem to be so downright dumb that they lack even the mental acumen for basic plagiarism .. that is, stealing someone's idea, working on it by themselves to give it a touch of ingenuity and passing it out as their own. Come on guys !! Give me a break .. is it not atrocious to have such a perforated system that allows poor quality to infiltrate the upper echelons of leadership !! And, by the way, I posted this blog with a peer of mine in mind who so often chooses to put even his brain up for sale much to the dread of his team.

Is this mad Professional scramble worth it O Christian ?

I haven't been asking this question to myself as often as a veritable Christian should, till this cartoon that I chanced upon spat right on my visage, took me by my collar and argued for my attention.

Life in the corporate world is quite a rat race most often, with professionals jostling, elbowing and outwitting each other to get into the spotlight, access higher remuneration and ascend the ladder to attain positions of power. In Bible speak, to corner earthly glory for oneself that is. Am I one of them. Yes. I humbly admit that I happen to become an avid racer in this racy corporate life oft and on unbeknown to my own self. A part-hypocritical life that has over the years seen a gradual estrangement of my profound Christian values, of the time well spent with God and of the all-consuming zeal for Him.

But, these days my good Lord has been prompting me to hit the pause button quite frequently to make a reality check of sorts in the light of the Word of God and this cartoon to introspect about what this passionate pursuit for profession is all about. Is it truly worth it's weight in gold when the Lord has emphatically promised that all "these earthly glories or things will be added as petty change" even without we petitioning for it ? ... was the lingering question.

Even as I sought the Lord's face in prayer for a course correction, the Lord aptly responded with a definite urging in my spirit to be wary of the "snares of the modern-progressive professions" and develop the strength of charater to keep them put right in their place regardless of what bright prospects they offer. I was also rudely jolted back to my senses to turn my gaze away from an ill-begotten glory that is nothing but, defiled, corruptible and fades away, to an eternal and enduring glory treasured up in Heaven for me.

So, O dear Profession !! Why won't you spare this poor Christian the trouble !!

When unwelcome flatulence secretly rends the air !!

God forbid, but I had to write this since this humorous incident had been irking me for a while.

We are in the thick of a review session and I am all mind-and-body engaged playing the Devil's Advocate with my probing questions and challenging of assumptions when I presume I ended up nettling an equivocating Project Manager and his Team who happened to be at the receiving end of the stick. And at a time when the exchanges were reaching a head, there was this silent whiff of "disgusting air" that whirled it's way up from beneath the table, probably perpetrated by someone from the beleaguered Team. Yes, twas that hydrogen sulphide charged soft rear ended song which altered the course of the review session permanently. The song about the food which churns the air inside your guts !! And as you have by now rightly imagined, the meeting was adjourned with all window and door panes in the room flung open to let the misery out. To add, it is to this day humorously spoken off that the famed room still echoes the hushed tones of that sour song.

Funnily, this had been an area that interested a few kinky friends of mine back during college days even as their purpose was to zero in on the elusive culprits, till they were carried away and were completely lost in the maze of it's intricate body of knowledge which they then aptly named "Fartological Science". Their analysis of the properties and situational adoption of this science by individuals helped them derive different sub-nomenclatures for such folks which I have tried to capture herebelow. The occurrence of the incident a few days back as narrated above is what kicked-up long lost memories of this humorous subject and served as fodder for this blog.

Dishonest types - those who do it and then turn around to accuse a colleague
Eveready types - those who have the anytime-anywhere preparedness to launch one
Ineffective types - those who lack lower abdominal strength to even get one going
Strategic types - those who come up with it and cough aloud at the same time
Green Peace types - those whose constitutes damage-free odours
Confident types - those who literally thunder with those audible 1000W sounds
Sly types - those who let out ultra-low decibel muffled ones
Scholarly types - those who bottle-up their own specimens for research
Nervous types - those who chug and stop mid way
Upright types - those who meekly own up to their mischief
Ultimate WMD types - those killer types with the power to send multitudes down on their knees

How many times have these turbulent currents of this destructive flatulence altered your situation ?

Whipping up memories of a "Moron" from travel days !!

I want to introduce you to a “Moron” with whom I have had coincidental face-offs quite often when I left the country on business. The odds of meeting this blunder-of-a-creation has been 3-to-2 in guesstimated terms. "Mr.Moron" sits guard at one of the vantage exit points from India, and with an "operate to exasperate" motto that powers him he can prove to be the destroyer of destinies to any unwitting maiden traveler. He almost brushed with mine during our first encounter while I was on my way to Melbourne.

I checked in my baggage and was waiting for the Immigration counter to become active for the final formalities before boarding the plane. Oh yes, in this country and city you have to tolerate the Immigration officials (for that matter any Government official) to enjoy their unscheduled pee-breaks or gossip-breaks and return their haunches to their seats in their own sweetest time. I was agonizingly counting minutes and people, hoarding around in random queues lugging their cabin paraphernalia. But, just an hour before my SQ flight’s departure time, they condescendingly decided to make their royal selves worthy. As they finally did, people rushed-in with disgust to get their passports stamped and get out of the lousy place.

As for me, my ill luck and the “Moron” were aligned to utmost perfection. So, he beckoned to me and I went and stood across the counter and passed him my travel documents. His flippant looking at my passport was the first indication that he was a descendant of the “Moronic” clan. His first question though clearly seconded my assumption.

“Where is your other boarding pass ?”
If you are going to a Australia via S'pore, and if you have not been through-checked in, you would alternatively first get a boarding pass to S'pore from your city of embarkation and then a boarding pass to Australia at Changi Airport-S'pore. Right ? Wrong !! The “Moron” was not happy with my answer, and I had my share of trouble over-clarifying this to him.

“Where is your visa to Singapore ?”
Hmmm! I forgot !! Bad joke !! Back then, if you were not pre-equipped with a processed Visa, S'pore optionally had a Visa-on-arrival process if you happened to be a Visa holder of some other destination country. Maybe every other Immigration official in the world knew that, except “Sir.Moron” (I was wondering how he got to this relatively exalted office). Well, he was not convinced.

“What if they don’t give you entry into Singapore ?”
I thought I would call up “Moron”, narrate a brief history about my family and get this guy fixed by swallowing a suicide pill ? Ha !! Does it matter if I am not allowed ? It is not his darn problem anyway. I told him I will be transiting at Changi-S'pore and will take the next Qantas flight to Melbourne. "Moron" however, was singing a melody to himself and didn’t quite get my explanation as he was busy buried inside my passport to pick out some loose ends.

“What is the name of your father and mother ?”
Well, I knew mine but did the “Moron” know his ? I reeled out the details but was almost frustrated enough to ask him his in return.

With every callous question he was flipping my passport back and forth as though some magic bunny or some silly dove might just pop out from the pages.

“What will you do in Singapore?”
Oh !! I wanted to tell him that I will be buying stuff for him and his family but just stopped short of saying "only shopping and sight-seeing". No !! I didn't go that way but rather bit my tongue as I knew he won't be too happy to hear that I would be having a ball in the wonderland while he would be sitting on his rotten rear and giving a miserable time to other people.

Finally when he had nothing more to ask, he stamped my passport and cast it back across the counter. Somehow, I just had time to run, pull myself through Security and board the flight.

Next question .... "What if I had missed my flight ?"
Well, “Mr.Moron” would have been in the history books for sure !!

The Alchemist ... I am wondering why it is a Best-seller !!

As I read about celebrities of the likes of Bill Clinton and Julia Roberts and even literary greats like Naipaul, Barrack Obama and Peter Drucker spotted with the book in their hands, I could not resist the idea of picking up "The Alchemist" at Landmark last week, given to understand that it was also commercially an immensely successful book that has made it to the International Bestsellers hall-of-fame.

But having read, over the past few days, about dreams, symbols, omens, destinies and adventure that follow Santiago, the shepherd boy (the central character of the novel) like echoes of ancient wise voices that combine an atmosphere of Medieval mysticism with the song of the desert, I disapprovingly concluded that Paulo Coelho could have done a much better job to truly deserve the high distinction of "a masterpiece" for his work. I found the book constructed upon a flimsy storyline, wildly out of touch with reality, with less-than-artistic use of language that fails to stimulate even minimal excitement that usually goes with any book reading (let alone the life-change movement that it serves to institute) and was a dismally poor attempt at portraying "The Biblical God's" invisible hand at work behind mankind's self-actualization.

With billions of the living still athirst in this visibly rattled generation in seeking out their "Purpose in Life", true "Personal Calling", and obtaining an understanding about the "Almighty God" and the "After Life", it simultaneously presents a huge untapped market and also makes perfect business sense for an upcoming breed of new-age writers to concoct indigenous remedies and recipes to cater to the world-wide demand for literary-drugs promising "life-change". I am unsure about whether "The Alchemist" is one such prescription.

However, I am still left wondering as I close this blog, as to what captivated the minds of 65 million readers drawing such adoration over time, that was least appealing to me, having now ascertained for sure that the book does an extremely pathetic job of helping the reader accomplish what it advertises. Why would not such purpose-seeking readers rather try "The Bible", the undisputed Queen of the International Bestsellers and the best book ever scripted that promotes and guides "God-assisted life-change" ?

Our humorously hideous home initiations

An Aussie colleague of mine was inquired of at a recent luncheon about his meal preference .. vegetarian course or otherwise ? His sarcastic comment that "pure vegetation is meant for cattle and not the humankind" and another recalled act of a Brahmin pal of mine who flicked a prized piece of chicken from my plate and washed it down his gullet in a moment, got this blog rolling off my mind.

My home in Trichy gained notoriety among my college mates for the secret initiations that happened there...especially of the steadfast kind who were sworn-by-their-blood to vegetarianism all their life. Back then, my home and I often played "the haven and the host" to whet the appetite of the ill nourished populace at college. The bashes at home were usually preconceived to treat the invited (also targeted) not to an elaborate spread to choose from as one may imagine, but to a narrow choice of meat-based recipes with limited options. They were so planned to ensure that a famished veggie would fall a natural victim to the savour and delight of my mom's irresistible chicken and fish curries, given that the rest of the dishes were bland alternatives in comparison. I had seen this pattern of occurrence often times, when they all began with posing vocal resistance, but with that gentle urging and teasing thereafter meekly succumbed to the allure and ended up likely picking their plates clean off the last morsels. The initiations happened struggle-free with the proven power of the meats effortlessly prevailing against the wavering will power of the abstinent. The feasting usually ended with the initiated lauded for their courage to walk the walk of faith down a thitherto untraversed path. It was fun to note that the initiations triggered off an unholy craze in them to get their teeth on a carnivorous kill as often as they thereafter could. Crazier still, is the fact that some of such have carefully sought after "broadmindedness and liberal values in epicurean matters" as key partner attributes even during their spousal search, to ensure sustainable support for their secretly cultivated habits.

Of a place not-so-divine !!

I was asked this past Sunday by my Pastor to visit a prominent non-Pentecostal Church in Chennai to attend a Choir singing service. I considered it an unique request since, we as a fellowship are not quite tolerant about other forthright liberal or toned down neo-conservative ways of worship which dilute the essence of the scriptures, since "cold" and "luke-warm" are thermal states that do not find divine acceptance. But, I gathered that the request was only to draw-up a comparative study of the sound, light, seating and orchestral arrangements in other Christian services in relation to ours' to contemplate possible improvements. So, as I readied myself to go, I wanted to purposefully remain attired in my full-white Ceylon dhoti and cotton shirt set, not to in anyway draw the attention of the throng to myself but to testify to the Lord even through the smallest avenues possible. It was not an easy wardrobe call to make by some standards because, there have already been prior occasions when I was dismissed as a black sheep (or white raven) beating the accepted pattern, often inviting ridicule amidst my entire extended family and circle of friends for making head-strong choices to stand by convictions in even smaller matters as these.

But, having hailed from a nominal Protestant background, God alone be thanked that I have a close to impeccable understanding now as to what constitutes scripturally approved worship and expression of faith. So, as I drove to the venue, I was mulling on the job at hand and in parallel looking forward to the experience of a quick rendezvous, not reconciliation, with my native Church. As I slithered into the hall, I began to feel pretty out-of-place amidst the congregation, my would-have-been kinsfolk had I not yet embraced the truth in truth. I could observe how a serenely set place of worship that spelled devotion contrasted with the modern appeal of the well appointed noveau riche of the city, a distant cry from modesty and the "beauty of holiness". The aura was bathed in the distracting odours of fragrant cologne and strung jasmine buds secured to women's locks. The place echoed with the muffled clutter of small talk and people strutting in and out at will, giving it an appearance of anything but a place of divine presence. The young also, of both sexes hung around in groups to catch up with vain gossip oblivious of the worth of the ground they were on.

Worst of all, the very purpose of the program seemed to be nothing but a poorly assembled "show-case" of singing and instrumental talents to elicit plaudits for the performers and not to win praise for the true Lord and Master. Though it was a thoroughly annoying experience to sit through the program, I used it otherwise effectively to be engaged for a short while in one of my favorite hobbies, snob watching. However, possessing roots tracing back to this religious denomination, it stirred me up to remembrance on a more melancholic note, to sympathize in prayer for the state of so many of the loved ones, including many of my own next of kith and kin, who still remain in the cozy and proud web of their traditions, rituals, pomp and riches.

Dedicated to my House Owner & family

I thought I should dedicate one to the honour of the unique specimens that constitute the household in whose property I have taken temporal residence in a Chennai suburb. The venomous patriarch of the house, called the owner, happens to be a retired school teacher and I recall the day when he met me, showed me around the house and keenly sized me up with his glare before acceding to accept a single, thirty something guy into his hallowed ground. Counter-reading his eyes I figured out that he was searching for extraneous cues concerning my character and motives, little aware that I possessed the art of smooth talking and evasive answering (still in my passive repertoire of retrievable skills from my pre-salvation days) to present myself sparkling clean before anyone, though I could have even wallowed in the mire just moments earlier. This Indian citizen's interpretation of "freedom is my birthright" is to express it in the manner of his loitering around the house in nothing but his strategically perforated briefs (fondly called "uncles' atrocious undies"). The very sight of this almost naked sexagenarian walking the turf with his otherwise fully wrapped wife in contrast is a sheer stress buster of sorts after a busy day at work.

Now, his two married male wards are gifted with what I call, roving x-ray eyes which prowl on me to ensure that I am not drooling at or checking their spouses out. While I agree that it is quite expected a behaviour on the wards' part, I hope I am forgiven this deviant statement that...it sure takes some darn guts to assume that this blog-writer is so deprived and starved so as to stoop down in his instincts to desire after what at best appears as gnarled and charred remains of burnt corpses. So, I fittingly responded to their sense of insecurity by closing out all windows as a practice and have, in a way, almost sealed them permanently shut never to be opened again since I have gotten the house thoroughly air conditioned in recent times. Nonetheless, a daily see-saw battle continues, with the younger ward appearing only all too interested to have me ensnared by any means, not aware that "my life is safely and securely hid with Christ in God".

This blog however, will not be complete without mentioning the most hyperactive and expressive member of the house, Tiger, the watch cum pet dog. A ten month old over-grown Rajapalayam pup that he is, he is my present love interest who wins my heart over and over again with his endearing whines, unsolicited licks and love bites. Snow White as I would like to call him, with an imposing appearance that belies his age still performs poorly at bladder control, often relishing to let himself loose over his favorite piss-pot in the whole house, the curtain on my front door. It seems like he has evolved a peculiar liking towards soft objects over the common doggie-affinity for harder objects like car tires and tree trunks for the urinal and, on occasions has gone the length of trading even his chewing bones in exchange for my shoes and sandals much to my chagrin.

Together, don't they make one interestingly riotous family thriving on the border of insanity ? Yea, they do.

Done to near-death by Powerpoint !!

The last couple of weeks, I was scourged and smitten and almost done to death by the greatest serial killer ever known to professional mankind, still on the rampage and working havoc on corporate landscapes, Microsoft's Powerpoint. And readers, you should be really glad to find me, the fazed blog-writer, atleast retain a few dregs of my elements yet intact within me to pull off a random blog this afternoon despite having been at work with my disoriented teams to sift, sort and shine quite a few net-sum-zero value but high intensity *.ppts that intended to serve a glorious purpose. That is...to "suck-up" to and "boot-kiss" a few visiting movers and shakers (read as Caesars from a Biblical connotation) from across the seas. Even as I stood on my knees last week in prayer beseeching deliverance from this apparent crap, my loving Lord and the saviour of my soul, with a gentle smile and soft whisper had rather these words to comfort me with, "Son, seek not to be delivered of this thine anguish and despise it not, but endure it as thy blessed cross, for the sufferings of this present time worketh for you a far more exceeding and lasting weight of glory in thy career ahead. Therefore, tarry thou not in the matter, but make haste to give unto Caesar the things which be his as it behooves you to stand full-well approved of such men also to be counted worthy of both, their kingdom and mine !!" Those very words of cheer were sufficient to kindle me and set me into a dizzying pace of action to all-out please the visiting Caesars. And please them I did this week with panache and a flourish by the Lord's manifold graces. Lol !!

And by the way, I managed to fish out and share this stand-up comedy clip that was tucked away into some remote corner of the web to give you a flavor of what the heck I am talking about.

Beating Chennai's midsummer blues - The great sweltering challenge !!

As a small-town guy just past his teens, I landed in Singaara Chennai, my city of promises, my Eldorado, over a decade back in pursuit of my profession. Chennai conjured up in me images of a vivacious city, of a fast paced life, of the industrious and the literati, of art and fashion etc., of access to the inaccessible, my vision of a corridor to the modern world. The dust and dirt of the city, as in it's hospitable wont welcomed me into its fold without flinching or mooting a complaint. The wheel of my life spun well for a while, free from regrets till the advent of the month of April when it began to develop squeaks. It was the occasion when Helios was whetting his glow to come cracking with his joules on the skin of the pitiable denizens of Chennai. Yes, "sum" had just managed to wade in only to intensify through the next couple of months into "summer" and the "summest".

Over the days and weeks following, the quartet of heat, dirt, pollution and humidity got their act together to be at their synergistic best to land the perfect coup-de-grace on my frame. As unwary as I was, I often ventured out of my hideout in the mornings of apparently bright and breezy days only to be prevailed against squarely by the four and forced into a retreat like a panting and whining canine a few hours later. Chennai has always been at it's gruesome best during summer while posing the near ultimate test of physical endurance. Since those days I have learned the snail's art of adopting discretion over valor to tackle Chennai with due respect especially during the months of April through June.

The city of my dreams hasn't been behaving any better over the years, but has only degenerated for the worse. It has been getting more teeth behind itself with the passing years in comparison with every yesteryear, making a summer lived out in it's limits a matter of utter displeasure. Well, even as the city is preparing to throw me another "The great sweltering challenge !!" this year, I on the other hand am exercising due diligence and all caution to weather it rather successfully.

The twin power packed personalities called Parents

She grew up in an inconspicuous village far removed from the limits of a southern Indian city. A carefree and chirpy Christian girl who attended a local school in the morning and lent a hand with the chores at home and the backyard in the even time. I would imagine that brooms, water pitchers, cow refuse and wood fired ovens would have been her playthings then. But her passion for learning coupled with sheer industry broke her free from the cocoon her home had spun over her. She went on to liberate herself from a speak-Tamil-only-please girl to pick up English, finish schooling, venture for a Graduate degree in Training and cap it with a triple Master's in Tamil, in Economics and in Education. I often wondered how such a cute thing can with such deftness juggle the roles of a prayer warrior, home maker, dutiful wife, loving mother, professional teacher, youth counsellor, prolific writer, church activist, house maid, master chef, treasurer, etc. while safely and sanely remaining a bundle of bubbling joy.

Now, about him. He matches her laurels line for line and in a few cases also overshadows her. The provider, protector and property manager, he was a super-astute thinker, exquisite writer, powerful social networker, public welfare lobbyist and spokesperson and an able administrator. Though from a unremarkable background with no access to English education till the age of eleven, he plodded his way to a triple feat too with Bachelor's degrees in Mathematics and in Engineering, adding a Master's in Business Administration to round it off. He came packaged in a five and half feet tall, sinewy muscle toned frame with a fiery pair of eyes and a surprisingly tender heart that inspired both awe and affection. He was a leader all the way, perhaps predestined to be one.

Now, to this power couple was born this beleaguered blog writer. It was both a matter of joy and on occasions anguish to have been born to such decorated parents. You may well understand where the pride and joy stems from, but whence the anguish ? Yes, unassuaged anguish in part because they were often my yardstick or reference line against whom I was measured. Believe me, it was really hard to be juxtaposed beside these imposing folks as I could often offer no excuse for my shortcomings. Most often, all possible avenues for my errant reasoning for substandard accomplishments were aptly plugged air tight.

They were an also unwritten poem on unity .. of a religious Christian coping with a titular one, of a village belle knit to an urban thoroughbred, of a serene heart blending with a poignant mind, of ignorance at peaceful coexistence with bridled arrogance and of a beauty in love with a "tender" beast.

The folks have since long retired from their former professions, but it's a wonder to see their engines still in prime condition ever raring to go. They together, have not bequeathed to me just the usual portion of their heritage alone, but also the incorruptible value of godliness, humane love, education, humility and small town attitude, hard work, money, food, health, struggles and life's odds. A relative underachiever that I am, I would not have driven myself to be wherever I stand now if it were not for my reverence and fear for these towering personalities. Mom and Dad !! I love you both.

My observations on the effect of Rock music on behaviour !!

Pink Floyd, AC-DC, Metallica, Def Leppard .. heard those names ? Rock-bands and Stars ? Yeah !! I can recall how it infiltrated my college campus through just three passionate Assamese listeners, became pervasive and thereafter was raging during my college days. I was a victim of that craze too in good measure. The power of the pounding beats, the ripping leads and the volume levels could cause gyrations and tantrums in anyone so easily. And it gradually began to eat into the mind and govern one's instincts too ..the crass and incoherent lyrics, the vociferously resonating noise of guitars, high pitched lead voices and the weird images and videos. Yes, all of that was like a heady brew.

Funnily enough, there were guys and girls who had known nothing but Karagaattam or Kathakali or Kucchipudi musical themes all their lifetime being swayed by the new genre and appeal of Rock music. Then came the attempt to personify the lifestyle of the stars on stage and mimic the themes of their video albums .. guys imitating their atheistic beliefs, practicing black arts, getting high on smoking pot, drinking themselves drunk, spewing language punctuated with downright filthy words, being mavericks without a cause, showing loss of mental composure etc. Some went to the extent of copying their moral depravity too. Attire went through a transformation next with crotch grabbing & figure hugging apparel, shredded jeans, T-shirts with eerie images and vulgar catch words, amulets and talismans, unkempt hair and ear piercings etc. becoming the flavor of the times. Folks who were not into the zeitgeist were looked down upon as worthless nerds a.k.a. "pazhams".

There were occasions when guys fought over musical preferences in cultural programs and informal gatherings, one group standing in favor of lilting Indian movie songs while a larger group lobbying for the new age Rock music. Shamefully, we were not just divided by our religious, linguistic and geographical differences alone but also by our musical preferences for a change. And, I must confess that my behavior was influenced in large part by the practitioners of this degenerate form of music that appeals to the base instincts, till I received the merciful "touch of God" that bailed me out for good.

But I have a word of caution for the present day Christian Rock music lovers. To me it is the work of Satan's subtlety in facilitating a covenant or a reconciliation between good and evil to suit the times. I am able to see how unwary folks, in their expression of their love for God, are getting enticed more by the musical element of the compositions which is so persuasively and dangerously mingled with the devotional rendering of lyrics. I pray that the good Lord open the eyes of the ignorant young to the light of this fact and that he save the Church from this growing adulteration.

My evolution from an aimless gambler into an informed investor

It was the occasion of the maiden receipt of my US-based company stock options that got me all sexed up about stock market investing. I must therefore admit that my subsequent affair with the Indian markets began just 3 years ago and was born more out of genuine interest than out of gaping greed. An amazing fact that stung and stirred me to action was the fact that some confessed dull-heads seemed to be making intelligent money management decisions despite their acclaimed folly. So, as is my wont when faced with a new drive, I resorted to finding a good book that can get "dummies" off the block, landed one authored by a naive Indian professor and got the necessary basics up my sleeve. I was now faced with the arduous task of getting 70 odd signatures replicated one-to-one in my application documents and have them processed if I was to have the distinction of making icicidirect.com my broker of choice. It was a true test of calligraphic and hand stability skills on someone who was used more to wielding a keyboard than a pen. I strained, trembled, bungled and blotched my way to turning in my signs as needed, cruised through the requisite checks with elan and was aptly rewarded a Demat account to commence trading.

I took my first baby steps towards investing equipped with Rs. 5,000/-. I began, following an insane herd, pitching for a few spectacularly rallying stocks in the secondary market only to find myself at the grim end of Mr. Murphy's laws a few days hence. Well, I took a 20% beating on my tiny portfolio. So much for starters. But, undeterred and given to an innate appetite for risk, I ventured to increase my stake to Rs. 50,000/- and thereafter in excess of Rs. 2 lakhs in the next 4 months. Admitting unabashedly, though my 4 month dabbling with IPOs, equities and MFs was nothing except being a zero sum game, it nonetheless gave me an invaluable crash course on understanding company fundamentals, industry dynamics, macroeconomics, currencies and commodities, investor behavior, etc. and their relevance in the context of stock markets. It sharpened my business acumen in a such a way that no degree or course can ever do. To add, frankly, apart from the occasional short term gains, I have still yet to create lasting value with any of my portfolio postions in my entire 3 years. How is that for a real change ? But, pardon me for making this presumptuous claim .. I am now more "experienced", the definition I wish to give to my collection of mistakes.

However, the beautiful side of the story is that I have matured from a disorganized buy-today-sell-tomorrow day trader aimlessly gambling for a few quick bucks to an informed and disciplined buy-and-hold Buffet-clone who understands the nuances of creating long term value and lasting wealth.

Inequality in the name of Gender Equality

We are a country that has long been infamous for it's suppression of womens rights. We can recall sordid tales of female infanticide, of rejection of the girl child as a lesser mortal, of women denied the privilege of marriage, of women succumbing to the flames of her deceased husband's funeral pyre, of a tribal clan having depraved conjugal rights over the same woman, of the cursed dowry system, of child marriage etc. It is absolutely loathsome to hear that this and more was what made our country in the days past.

But, we have come a long way as a nation accepting women in equal standing with men. Courtesy globalization, constitutional reforms, literacy and women's rights activism among others. Women these days as a result are more confident, have equal opportunities, have freedom of speech and action and have gained broader acceptance in society.

In saying so, I am also a vehement advocate of womens rights and equality, but in fitting measure a rebel too when they are taken undue advantage of. So, I thought of narrating in simple language a personal experience as I take out on some sick lingering habits in my state (Tamil Nadu - India) that works to the malicious advantage of women in the name of "gender equality" when we as a nation are in verity striving to embrace it in every word and deed.

The Setting : I board a bus from Engineering college after a hectic day, search for a seat to occupy in the allowed men's section, find none there, in passing quickly observe two couples seated in that section traveling together, and finally manage to catch sight of an empty row of seats in the women's section rather and plod towards it. Fyi .. women had greater allocation of seats by proportion in buses then. D... equality !! But, being worn out and badly in need of rest, I don't care for a hair but brashly take the empty seat. Then scampers in a average looking woman at the next bus stop and begins prowling for a place to repose her rear just as I did a while ago. Her scan gets her to me and to the empty seats next to mine, but being the immaculate-conservative-chaste Tamil woman that she is, she won't sit with a unfit stranger as I. That's perhaps fair enough if she decides so for herself. But then, she begins playing the usual trick of casting her cold stares at me hoping that it would unsettle me into yielding, little wary that I was a stubborn teenaged maverick college ox myself. The fight for gender equality was by then on. It's when she does it over and over again to no avail that she musters the guts to open her darn mouth to stage a scene. Nevertheless, I turn a careless ear, don't yield yet again but gently offer her to sit next to me if she at best wishes to. Contrarily, she is perturbed by the offer, whines and calls for the conductor to mediate. The dutiful conductor presides over the case, hears us out and lawfully asks me to vacate in the sight of all co-passengers. Being dismayed but not convinced, I say "yes" to him, but only as long as he is able to find me an alternative place by asking the fairer sex from the couples in men's section to vacate for me in exchange. Most male co-passengers who were probably once bitten and awaited an occasion for sweet revenge are pleased with my quid-pro-quo argument on equality and the conductor is charged with the arduous task of bartering with the couple on my behalf. He lobbies as asked to, does a shabby job of it, quarrels, almost comes close to receiving blows from an adamant male partner and decides to beat a retreat only to vanish from sight leaving us to ourselves. So, there stood the matter unresolved for the next 30 minutes by when it was time for me to alight. So, being the chivalrous gentleman that I longed to be, with a wily smile, I generously offered the woman, still standing, a place as I moved out. But alight I did amidst unexpressed cheers of the men folk with a sense of pride, boost to my esteem and glint in my eyes for not having allowed gender equality to grossly fail the test though it happened to be over trivia on a rather mean proving ground.

The BPO subculture - Why I love to hate it most often !!

They are young, hip and fashionable, modern, sharp, glib-tongued, netizens and wired to the times. Operating across geographical boundaries and time zones, the aspects of "time and space" which are usually philosophers preoccupations have almost become playthings for them. They incur the ire and hot displeasure of the West for being a contributing cause to their worsening employment statistics and for levelling the playing field with the rest of the business world. Yes !! The BPO Force as one can call them are here to stay for sure. And, I agree !! With 65% and above of India's 1 billion plus population under the age of 25, the BPOs are undoubtedly the lifeline of our buzzing youth.

However, though having many merits to laud about, I wanted to on the contrary vent my feelings over a thing or two about a new BPO Force promoted subculture that is evolving right before our very eyes..a culture that is catalyzing a gradual erosion of our cherished traditions and moral high ground. Well, I am no anti-feminist or anti-liberalist, but I choose to express my thoughts on the effect of this subculture on women for sheer change, though men are in no way spared.

Here goes. Seems to be gone are the days when women attired themselves with modest apparel and shame-facedness...courtesy women's liberation (read : degeneration). The foray of women into traditionally men's preferences like jeans, boy cut hair, cigarettes, alcoholic beverages etc. is evidence that the fight for gender equality has been won by tomboys. That does'nt mean that I personally hold a Talibanic and insane view of what should constitute women's attire either. It is about getting that balance just right.

With lines blurring between love and lust and with many a youth longing for a whole 364 days for the advent of the Valentine's Day, parental assistance in match-making and arranged marriages are soon becoming passe for our girls...and as if this immaculate matrimonial system has not been working all through our ancestry, it's now time to experience a cheap "i have a boy-friend too" thrill as they ape a rather strange borrowed culture of self-determined amorous befriending.

I am a reasonably seasoned communicator in English myself but I make concerted efforts to be at ease with both English or my native tongues as befits the environs or need of the hour. But I tell you, its a treat to your eyes and ears as you watch snobbish and giggly girl gangs attempting to slur their speech and making goofy use of oral English as if their birth in India was such an untimely quirk of fate. Trust me it is sheer fun to hear then speak Hinglish, Tanglish or Manglish when they can as well do with Hindi, Tamil or Malayalam. For once, can we not just be ourselves.

Now cap it with the ever growing preference for premarital relationships, swinging, lesbianism and sexual promiscuity in the name of sexual liberation, and we have a recipe for cultural disaster brewing. I similar argument about the conduct of the male species can be made word for word, but as I told you, I am not in any way attempting to be a misogynist.

In closing, the BPOs are no doubt a welcome relief to the Indian economy, but the BPO subculture and its' army of ill effects is certainly not. The youth of today who will embody the cultural heritage of the future Indian nation, are faced with the great responsibility of choosing between either what was bequeathed to them or what they embrace from strange lands. I urge you to choose wisely.

The agony of a pooping Indian kid on foreign land !!

I was reading an article on office humour and it triggered a recall of the agonizing experience of an Indian kid at Changi Airport in Singapore last year. His story .. this kid with troubled bowels rushed straight out of SQ409 and ran into one of Changi's famed scented toilets to his relief. A few groans and sighs later, the kid who felt at home, came happily out with his trousers at his knees calling for his mum with panic. Reason - there was a startling discovery that he made after pooping "Where's the darn water tap !!". Well, mum was a first timer as well and joined the frantic search for the elusive water tap. It was a while before help arrived from me who sensed that they have been having "issues with tissues" that I directed them to the right closet with a hand-wielded faucet. Ok now ... don't go over board with your skewed imagination folks .. I didn't clean him up, his mum did !! I could thereafter see the kid beaming and zipped-up, and ready to confidently take on the day at Singapore.

I have been irked about this farcical practice in many friendly countries about .. why the whole body undergoes a wash at bath, why hands are rinsed after a peek, why faces are cleansed after a sneeze, but why the forlorn bum alone is spared the trouble of a wash after a poop !! In good humour, can anyone give me an answer please.

The pathetic treatment of Intellectual homour !!

I was itching to write about this topic for a while now. I have seen some of my US or European peers who co-facilitate Summits or Conferences with me possess a great sense of intellectual humour. But to their woeful dismay they find themselves not ticking with the audience who are supposedly well-bred Indian Executives.

Well, I am a lover of great humour myself that comes at you sideways, clever, witty, sardonic, with wordplay, no smiles, with a dash of bitters. Oh, yeah !! You need that flair to get it. But here is what I’ve noticed on the contrary, something not so profound, but a bit disconcerting to my friends at the least. Their best interspersed and thematic jokes, throughout the programs, have flown across the room, making no evident connection with the audience and then have silently disappeared into a far corner where they went to die. No, the jokes just weren’t working for them.

Well, as I mull over it, the reason is quite simple .. we have culturally developed a sense of humour which we expect to hit us straight on the nose, with big smiles or facial contortions telegraphing the punch line, plain goofy slapstick and physical comedy with no ambiguity whatsoever. That’s what we pass for a joke, don't we ? So I took my pathetic looking friends aside over dinner and euphemistically clarified the need for them to tune their pitch to the Indian ears slow and easy. And voila, I was glad to note that they began doing so and have received more genuinely amused and giggling audiences as a result. But summarily, I am inwardly so embarrassed to note that our brothers are stimulated by such oafish humour which almost equates with "someone putting on clowny pants and honking a horn”.

So, yes !! Humour can be invigorating to a sedate and lifeless audience but quite unsettling to the very dispatcher of it if it happens to miss the mark. Well !! I am not ready to pay such a big price with our Indy audience yet.

Inspirational lines on hard work ... the hardest part !!

For someone who loves to strike a balance among the passion for profession, love for playing and creating music, appetite for scriptural and general reading, desire to get into great physical shape, spiritual and community indulgences, affinity for friends / family and love for travelling etc., throwing an MBA into the already maddening potpourri makes things woefully painful. You bet me, it is. I have therefore sought solace in the following inspirational lines to egg me on and recast my agenda to make space for the newcomer in the room.

You don't have to be great to start,
But you have to start to be great.
--Zig Zagler

You must not only aim right,
But draw the bow with all your might.
--Henry David Thoreau

The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained in single flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling secretly into the night.
--Anonymous

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest! if you must; but don't you quit.
--Edgar A. Guest

A free lunch is only found in mousetraps.
--John Capuzzi

The next best thing to winning is losing!
At least you've been in the race.
--Nellie Hershey Tullis

We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.
--Aristotle

Time stays long enough for anyone who will use it.
--Leonardo Da Vinci

On the block !! Get set !! ...

Hello Blogosphere, now that I've clarified my need for a global MBA, for over the next half year or so, you will get to deal with my histrionics as I...

- run-up towards the GMAT
- constantly second-guess my decision to only apply to my top 4 favorite schools, against everyone's advice to hedge my bets a little more and encompass 10 or so schools
- actually start applying: filling out application forms, getting transcripts, etc.
- draft essays, agonize about how to differentiate my essay from the large herd applying this year, re-draft essays...
- figure out who and how and when to ask for recommendations, the most painful part
- develop several dozen ulcers as I worry about interviews (or worse, wait for invitations)
- endeavor to network with other global MBA aspirants, students or alumni through blogs and forums

Why a blog? Well, I can't think of a more interesting way of sharing my experiences of getting dumped, de-friended, and excommunicated than boring everyone I know with stories of raw application agony. Plus I'd like to think that your collective wisdom and opinions will turn a potentially stomach-churning 6 months into a fun, crazy roller-coaster ride.

That said, welcome to the ride. First stop: GMAT Land.

My target B-Schools

Having already clarified my need for an MBA at this point of my career, the following is the studied and whittled down list of Schools with either an inherently strong General Management focus or the high flexibility to tailor one to my preference from a vast array of majors / electives. While I do not anyway devalue the standing of the US schools, the study of the Top-50 list against my preferred criteria has naturally produced a list of schools with an European bias. I have also attached a clustered priority to this list and I would like to minimally see 2~3 of the bold-fonted options materialize into an admission. However, Insead and IMD are quite a catch with their 12 month options and would be my first(A+) loves, with the rest of the Schools following.

Insead - 12 months (A+)
IMD - 12 months (A+)
London - 15 months (A)
Said - 12 months (A)
Harvard -18 months (B+)
Kellogg - 22 months (B+)
IESE - 19 months (B+)
Judge - 12 months (B)
ISB - 12 months (B)
NUS - 17 months (B)
IIMA - 12 months (C+)

I look forward to visitor comments and insights into my choice so that they can be re-calibrated as needed.

The Global MBA versus I !!

For a Business Excellence professional with 11 years of Sourcing, Manufacturing and 6 Sigma flavors already in my experience, the decision to go the MBA way was pretty easily facilitated. I see two ways going from here while pausing at a career junction in my endeavour up the ladder. One is to contemplate lateral or vertical moves to attain soak time in other functions and broaden my domain knowledge. The other, is to go through an accelerated MBA program with high General Management focus which would also likely deliver a similar effect. There are 3 primary areas of comparison, among others that helped me draw my logical conclusion in favor of an MBA.
- both provide experiential learning (one in the real world setting while the other in a simulated learning environment)
- both help building the desired competencies (one needing probably 10~20 drawn-out years while the other needing 1~2 super-challenged years)
- both could pave the way to the top (one on the basis of painfully garnered experience while the other on the basis of it's brand equity opening doors at will)

So the battle has in a way just begun. The study of the Top 50 Schools for fit has already been accomplished and the scope narrowed down to the few target Schools based on a composite set of preferred criteria (see below).
- Total Cost Implications & Affordability
- Brand Equity
- General Management focus & Flexibility
- Program Duration
- Post-program Earnings Capability
- ROI / Pay Back period
- Diversity / International Focus
- Network / Alumni breadth
- Surviving the Rigors of the Program
- Balance with my other extra-academic passions

Before everything, a primary affordability check has been run and the results are delightfully positive and the 5 next actionable steps have been captured, beginning with the GMAT. GMAT preparation to notch a 700 thereabout score has just been launched and honing is underway on my Quantitative skills. An amazing discovery is that I am not dumb as I thought I am and haven't lost my acumen yet. My confidence in the Verbal piece will be upped over the next month or so and a few full-fledged Practice Tests later, will have my GMAT sitting in Mar08. Trying times ahead given that it's been ages since I have laid my mind on rudimentary Mathematics and Grammar and worse still, writing a serious test.

I have also started greasing-up people in my Networks for Reco-readiness and treading a sensitive note here since it involves a few corporate biggies and movers and shakers in my present company. This sure is a long drawn process and calls for the fine art of butter-smooth planning and execution. Everything else about me seems fine, but for the usual adversary .. the lack of sustained focus. Nevertheless, I have lived through this experience a few times earlier, so, I think I can make this tick. I will share insights about my comprehensive plan of action / schedule in a later blog.

Why is December always so special ?

To me, December has always been special for various reasons of which I wish to ramble about a few.
Firstly, it heralds the closure of another hectic year at work and my mind is preparing itself gradually to slip into stand-by mode before being re-booted next year. Secondly, there is nothing more that I can accomplish that will matter within the same year to count for my performance appraisal, that is, there is no more time for damage control .. my destiny is already to the large part determined, thus removing uncertainty from the air. Next, it's a great time to introspect about my personal successes and failures, understand how much of a gap lingers between "targets vs actuals" and chart new courses of action going forward. This applies not just to the professional space but more so to aspects of my private-spiritual life as well. Lastly, it makes room and time for me to pay visits and call-up folks to refurbish relationships, revive and mend ties, develop new acquaintances and networks etc. In summary, it's a great time to square-up things, shake-up the old and prepare for starting-up anew. Here's wishing all readers another memorable December.

An ode to my trusted cellphone !!

I've easily gotten bored by the many tech-gadgets that I have bought over time, but if there is one that stuck with me for about 3 years and makes me swear by it, it is my trusted cellphone. For laughs, you won't believe me ... it's so inseparable that I once slid under my shower oblivious of still wielding it. Made by none other than the tech-numero uno with many firsts-to-market to it's credit, Sony, the phone boasted when it penetrated the market, of some of the best and comprehensive features compacted into a single hand-held gadget which is now made common-place by the technology followers.

For example, it came with a crisp 2.0 Meg camera, a 2.0 Gig extended memory facility in which I could save our full-length church sermons, the best sound quality and headphones, a camera flash that doubles as a handy torch during suburban Chennai's blackouts, an FM radio that helps stay tuned with the Indo-Pak cricket "war", a feature for quick recording of meeting calls for later replay, an enviable teleconferencing facility, a GPRS feature and so on. In summary, it was the one gadget that clarified Thomas Friedman's definition of "digital convergence" to me, that is now all set to rule the world.

Given that I find it so handy and am used to it's elaborate features, it is growingly difficult to wean it from me. For now, I well understand why oldies of yesteryears swore by the Bajajs, Ambis, Batas and IOBs and made it their world and would still like to. But, even as you finish your read here and have by now concluded that I'm nuts, allow me to demystify my trusted aide to you. He is .. the "Sony 750i". I'll love you mate...until death do us part.

Elephants cannot dance !! - A hypothesis proven to be true once too often.

The elephant, my metaphor for a large Corporation, is probably one of the most insipid creatures that ever existed. Working in a large foreign Corporation is a constant learning experience, but, I have grown to dislike them for a few reasons.

Firstly, with sheer size come limitations in manouvrability, accessibility and flexibility that cripples speed and accuracy of decision making. Secondly, a profession with such, is akin to investing in a mutual fund than in a raw equity...which means, there is no doubt reduced risk exposure or improved job security while the trade-off is diminished returns or a state of flux in career growth prospects. Thirdly, a labyrinth of "hallowed" work standards, common processes and business models create rigidity and interlocks in the system thereby inducing resistance to change. Further, throw in those differences in culture, language, geography etc. commonly seen in wide-reaching corporations which is the breeding ground for confusion ... and by now you better be giving your employer a closer look, else you are just about setting your career up for slow and steady atrophy.

Therefore, to me, size does not matter, but speed and being savvy does.

When your profession check-mates you !!

It is just astounding to think about what life centered around a well profiled profession could yield in return. Well, these were their unsolicited bonus or bumper issues to me .. things that I did'nt ask for but came by as freebies. It made me gracefully heavier by a few kgs, rewarded me with those "beautiful" semi-rings beneath my eyes, added mental stress which replaced my dream jaunts to heaven with the occasional nightmares, dislodged my eating habits beyond restoration etc. ... and it was at a point when it began encroaching into my private spiritual priorities that I had a rude awakening ... speaking to myself inwardly, I said ... aha !! this needs to be dealt with.

Then I switched on my Dad's words of counsel in my mind and decided to give it serious consideration. So, on Tuesday this week an elliptical cross-trainer became mine own, swore to my dear eyes to provide them exposure more to books than to my pc notebook and began stocking my fridge with nutritious food to straighten-up my diet. Well, I would like to think that this is just part of a mid-life course correction.

Now, working on sustaining the correction is the real key and could be fodder for possibly a new blogpost sometime later.

Ranjith's maiden blog-venture !!

It is a cool and murky day here at Chennai .... and come on !! its simply not a day meant for work for the kind of guy that I am. And, I had already decided to chill-out for the day after a hectic bygone week that had wracked my brains and body. Therefore, there I lay on my bed .. lazing around, fending off all thoughts about office when Solomon (my coolest sleep-walker pal) trudges in .. and engages me in an interesting and empty chat about his office pranks. Then, even as our exchange meanders into diverse provinces, an empty thought flashes across my mind about fiddling with my notebook. So, I power it up and idly run my mouse across some Google links and quite surprisingly land up in their "blogger" territory. Then, all of a sudden this assumes a serious note. Solz and I, peer together at the screen even as we decide and start clicking-away to establish my blogspot account. And just an hour later .. voici !! .. and the world adds another venerable blogger to its list.

So much for now ... stay tuned for more.