Twenty- five Seven

On a rainy day in Mumbai

June 29, 2013

Don’t threaten me with love, baby. Let’s just go walking in the rain.- Bobby Rain.

On a Rainy day in Mumbai,

When the rain comes down in sheets
When the wind blows off your windows
And the trees bend to the ground.

On a rainy day in Mumbai
You should walk down by the sea
And taste the salty spray
Come beating down your face.
The plop plop of the rain drops
The wind chilling you to the bone
Feel your fingers wrinkle up
And your shoes squish in the mud.
On a rainy day in Mumbai
The water rises high
And you wade through the muck and all
With chicken legs and rubbish come rushing down the hill.
Umbrellas fly inside out
And cars cough up smoke and steam
As urchins splash in the puddles

On a rainy day in Mumbai
Clothes never dry at all
You should stay at home
All day in bed
Curled up with a steamy novel
Or watch movies all day long
And have cups of tea or hot soup
With thickly buttered bread
Or have a spicy bhutta
And samosas instead.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
A life fulfilled

June 29, 2013

This is the story of an ordinary man – me

These seemingly simplistic words belie the heroic effort that was required to retell the fascinating story
of Vijay Santhanam. Till 28th August 2006, Vijay was a regular Joe,
a graduate of two of India’s prestigious educational institutions – IIT Rourkee
and IIM Ahmedabad – working as
a senior executive with BP, living in his own
penthouse in Singapore and enjoying the company of his wife and 15 month old
son. It seemed to be the perfect life. Little did he know that the severe headache
he so casually dismissed as “normal” would soon turn his world upside down.
Within hours he found himself vomiting on his bedroom floor and eventually
passing out in the emergency room of the hospital! When he came to, he was
shocked to find that from a competent, vibrant man, he was reduced to a
helpless being unable to speak or move. Luckily for him, though, he realized that he
could still think and taking support from this fact, he rallied round. But like
all challenges, this was not possible without the unstinting support he got from his
wife Kainaz, who stood by him like a brick, his mother and his friends. Over a
slow and painstaking process that took all of six years, this support system
and his indomitable will helped him recover from this life changing incident,
re-invent himself and reclaim his life. This book which traces his journey from
being paralysed to slowly re-learning skills like motor co-ordination and
language skills makes one realize how easy it is for us, the normal person to
take these tasks for granted.

Realising
that his right side was paralysed and that the only word he could articulate
was “No”was extremely frustrating. But equally important was the realization that
if he really pushed himself, he could get out of it. After the immediate medical
treatment was administered, Vijay got down to the task of rehabilitation, the
painful process of re-learning motor skills and speech. Drawing up his own
punishing schedule, Vijay gave himself goals and targets, overcoming any road
blocks and setbacks along the way. On one particular day when he found that he
could only do one task at a time, he and his wife were literally reduced to
tears: what a far cry from the person who could drink coffee, type on a key
board and attend to a telephone call, all at the same time. But this only made him
more determined to get back to his work which he finally did. And what is
creditable is the fact that though this is his first book written entirely by
him, he has co-authored two other books, both of them written after his
stroke. Today Vijay has retired prematurely from corporate life and enjoying every moment of his new lease on life pursuing his passions and interests. Apart from active writing, he is a visiting professor at the IIMs at Ahmedabad and Lucknow

With
diabetes, hypertension and stress being a given for modern day executives this
book will serve to warn many people that this could very well be their own
story. So I would make this compulsory reading for every busy executive who
often feels that his four km runs, his annual health check up and his “healthy”
lifestyle inure him from a life threatening stroke. Strokes are life changing not only for the person who suffers it but also for the entire family who have to change the way they think and the way they live.

However, a word of warning
: despite the heroism of this story, I feel it lacks a soul and comes across as
a dry narrative of an engineer who typically analyses the problem, finds a
solution and works towards it. I do not wish to undermine his effort and salute
his never- say- die spirit but sadly even though Vijay learns the alphabet and
becomes a writer, he is not an author the subtitle credits him to be. At the end of the day, “My Stroke of Luck” is just a story of an extraordinary man told in an ordinary way.

This review is a part of the biggest <a href=”http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews” target=”_blank”> Book Review Program </a> for <a href=”http://www.blogadda.com” target=”_blank”>Indian Bloggers.</a> Participate now to get free books!
Trust deficit and daily life

June 26, 2013

My recent experience with governmentese has convinced me that the more evolved a society is,the more complicated it gets. Consider this :

When I was an infant all those years ago, my mother would happily leave me with the neighbours and go out to the shops for a bit – may be to just dash around for half an hour or so, but I would be happily left with people who were neither related to me nor paid to look after me while she did some chores.

We would leave a set of keys with the neighbours so that there was always a spare set to use if we were ever locked out. In fact we left our house keys with the neighbours and asked them to water the plants while we were away, let the servant in the day we were to arrive so that the house could be kept clean and ready for us when we returned home. We even offered our homes fully furnished with no cupboards locked to friends who needed a place to stay while we were away or gave them a bed or a room if required.

We would strike up conversations in trains, busses and even random queues , during which we would exchange life stories and strike up friendships that lasted a lifetime.

But today alas, all that has changed. We not only is every person guilty till proven otherwise but each person has to go to extraordinary lengths to prove his innocence.

Consider this : Anna Shetty wants to apply for a visa to fly to a Schengen country with her infant to meet the infant’s father. The father has sent a letter of invitation to both the mother and child yet, he has to send an affidavit duly signed by a competent authority giving his consent to his spouse travelling with his infant to meet him!!!! Where is the logic in that? And what is worse is that when Anna Shetty’s husband went to the competent authority ,he found to his consternation that the office existed only in cyberspace and the ground reality didn’t match its internet presence!!!! Now this is in a First World Country where everything supposedly runs smoother than silk.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So why is it surprising that things in India are difficult? After all, considering that 30% of the jobs are allotted to people solely on the basis of affirmative policy and where training is more instant than coffee, it is no wonder that getting a simple gas connection or a gas refill requires the patience of a saint. Twenty days ago I booked my gas on line. Funnily enough when it didn’t come and the new cylinder was approaching its end date, I went on line to track my order only to find that it had vanished. So after several days of telephone calls to numbers which were always busy, I miraculously managed to find a slot and even more miraculously, the phone was attended to. So I booked my gas and was told I had to wait 3-4 days. Three days later, despite my crossed fingers and crossed toes, the gas got over and I took the cylinder to the shop for a refill. Thankfully I had taken an earlier bill which was correlated with the pending order. I was told that I had to wait ten more days before the system even thought of processing my order. Now I can’t think of a catastrophe worse than being without a gas in my house. So I begged and pleaded and persuaded the man to please please please allow me to take home a cylinder. Luckily he obliged but not before I gave him a xeroxed copy of either my Driver’s licence, or my PAN card or even my Adhar card. Luckily for me I had two government Id‘s on me and luckily I found a xerox shop 100 yards down the road. I was charged Rs.2 for photocopying a document which is barely 2″ x 1.5″ and the explanation given was that I needed to xerox both sides and just for my information it was already Rs. 2/side in Gujerat so I should be lucky I’m in Bombay where it is still half the cost. ( what was the logic in that???? I didn’t get it)

I xeroxed the card and went down a narrow lane to the gas godown where a sulky attendant asked me for the bill and the xeroxed id. I was shocked when he tore off only one side of the copy, throwing away the other Re.1 worth side saying that he needed only the front side. I was made to sign the copy and the bill before I was allowed to take away the gas cylinder. Needless to say, there was no question of returning any change and I made a hasty return home before the family died of starvation.

While I am grateful that I could bring home a gas cylinder, I am amazed at how difficult the Govt is making life for the simple housewife. How does a person with no mobile phone or internet connection make a gas booking? How does a person without a PAN card or Adhar card or Driver’s licence get a gas cylinder?

On a rainy day in Mumbai

A life fulfilled

Trust deficit and daily life