My name is (NOT) KHAN !!

Last week I woke up to the news of SRK’s detention at Newark Airport. Too much heat, hatred, emotions and god knows what all were generated by the 60 minute detention of Shah Rukh Khan by the US airport authorities. The Page 3 crowd has been vociferous in condemning the 'evil empire' and the whole episode is being portrayed as if an assault to India's dignity. Wake up people SRK doesn't represent the collective honour of 1 billion people. (Nor does Dhoni or Rahul Gandhi for that matter!). After reading the paper and watching the breaking news (as portrayed by media) I couldn’t stop myself from writing the post. Many of my friends flew to US whose names are neutral and they are neither Muslims nor their name ends with Khan. They don’t have a police records and they are not linked to any terrorist links also. But, still they are stopped, checked and questioned at airports. But they didn’t protest or cried like a crybaby and yelled or screamed-Discrimination! Racial profiling! Yankee dadagiri! Religious persecution!” Immigration Officials were just doing their job to keep their country safe that’s it. What might seem irrational for an onlooker is nothing but mere following of their responsibilities as immigration officers. Well its not India, where the rules are meant to be broken to accommodate anyone who confidently delivers: “pata hai main kaun hun?” or “pata hai mera baap kaun hai?” Come on- lets get real. SRK might be an icon to Indians; even to the desi Diaspora spread across the globe, but to America he’s just a visitor. We may be convinced he cannot be involved in anything that’s remotely violent, but the guard given the responsibility of stopping something like 9/11 from happening in his country again will want to take no chances. It is quite ridiculous that Indians feel their icons are everybody’s icons. What the heck? If Jet Li came to India tomorrow, very few would give him a second look. Matt Damon was here recently and there wasn’t a traffic jam in Delhi. These guys are huge back home. Moreover, America doesn’t have a culture of fawning the way India does. Mike Tyson was treated like a common rapist and spent most part of his youth in the slammer. Winona Ryder was sentenced to a three-year probation for shoplifting. We are actually aggrieved because we are ‘‘not like them’’. Guess what, it isn’t a virtue. We should be like them and take the security of our country with solemn, no-nonsense professionalism. Frisk Brad Pitt when he lands in India next. Give Tom Cruise the same dose. Don’t spare Bill Clinton either. Isn’t he an exprez, just like Kalam? Who’s stopping us and what’s stopping us? Colonial hangover? Or is it plain callousness? Looks like both. SRK says he’s ‘‘upset and angry because it was his Muslim name that caused all this’’. Countless Muslims are made to go through extra security checks everyday in America and other Western countries. Is he equally upset at that? He’s probably just miffed that it happened to him, India’s mega star. Well, America is a different country post 9/11, one that takes the killings of its people with the seriousness it deserves, unlike India whose record on this is shameful. Does anyone recall the movie titled, Sarfarosh? The story revolved around a famous singer from Pakistan who was much loved in India and was a toast to the millions of Indian fans but he eventually turned out to be a terrorist. Now we all know that that was a movie but sometimes the reel life can resemble the real life. If a Hansie Crownie, the much-respected South African cricketer can be a match-fixing enabler then anyone can be anything. At least theoretically! Nobody should be exempt from detailed scrutiny if the initial checks point out that more detailed checks are required. After all who could have imagined that the lovable Munna Bhai once kept an AK 47 in his house! Not long back if the former Defence Minister of India can be searched and the most revered ex-President of India can be frisked, then surely SRK can be detained too. Is a film star to be attached more importance than the former President of our republic? In India we take everything very seriously and attach our emotions to it. It is the country, which has temples for Amitabh Bachchan and Rajnikanth why?? because some people think they are great actors. We give undue credit to cricketers, politicians, and film stars. If they’re in a queue we let them pass through, if they are visiting a city the entire security and traffic is diverted. In India every 3rd person is a self proclaimed VIP asking for VIP treatment wherever they go. We Indians are too used to VIP treatment, even at the cost of security considerations. We are just whimpering over here like hurt puppies because we feel, ‘‘Oh, but we don’t do it to them’’. Oh no, we don’t. And it’s a scandal. We should. Instead of making SRK’s detention an issue, we should think of upgrading our own security apparatus. There’s a lesson in this — a positive one. The bottom line: Stop fawning, shed the colonial hangover and make no compromise where the country’s safety is concerned. It is time our movie stars, politicians, cricketers and other ‘self-proclaimed VVIPs’ wake up to few international ground realities and think of themselves as mortals. The outside world is neither interested nor impressed by any individual’s local status or bank balance. It is not about fans waving and asking for autographs. It is not about claiming friendship with Hillary Clinton or Obama. You may be India’s biggest business tycoon or Desi Superstar. But out there you are an anonymous nobody - nothing more and nothing less than a name and a number – deal with it.

The Last Past Week

I landed from my flight and to my dismay I felt as if I entered a blast furnace. That was my first feeling when I landed in Indira Gandhi International Airport on Saturday morning at 9:00 am. A drastic change from HOT looking chic’s (KF airhostess) to HOT weather, which I despise. Yes, I was in Delhi the capital of India. Few hours back in Bangalore I was searching for my jacket to keep myself warm from the weather outside. While traveling from airport to Noida where I was to put up for next two days I realized the rise in the mercury. Hot to hotter, hotter to hottest by noon hitting it to 46 Deg. August is blowing hot... like nothing seen for years in Bangalore. As I was admiring the expressways and the metro I realized that I was at my destination and had already traveled 41 kms in just a matter of 35 mins. That is definitely one thing that Delhi scores hands down over Bangalore even though it would lose in terms of weather. New Delhi—the power hub of one of the world’s most vibrant democracies, home to fabled gali-kooche and multi-lane flyways and yes, one of India’s greenest cities! For most, Delhi is the face of India—an icon in its own right. As we get set to celebrate the 62nd year of India’s Independence I landed in the city for some leadership training from my company (not from our so called political leaders :P). I got in touch with some of my old buddies who were settled in Noida and Gurgaon (and yes this is definitely NOT Delhi – It is as Delhi as Mysore or Mangalore to Bangalore). Over the next one week I did the training in Gurgaon and tried all methods to beat the heat. Gurgaon, with monster malls and futuristic high rises, is frequently called the poor man's Singapore. Gurgaon lives up to its name of being Concrete Jungle with its high raised buildings and multilane expressways. Finally after a week full of gyan on leadership in HOT weather and HOTTER chic’s around I was done with my training and it was time to leave and get back to namma bengaluru. Even though my stay was limited and packed with schedules I loved the place, people and the get together with old buddies. Finally, I am back in namma ooru and woke up to pleasant morning of Independence Day. Somehow I missed my home that day. My parents are old-fashioned patriots who ensure that special delicacies are prepared on the eve of 15th of August, since they felt it was exceedingly important to celebrate 'Freedom'. Freedom, not just from foreign rule.... but as a basic human right. They also believed it was important for them as parents to convey to us that this precious freedom was worth guarding with our own lives. There were no delicacies at home this year. It is yet another dull, uninspiring and listless day with only one hope that it was still beginning of Saturday and Monday was still far away.

The Great Indian "DAL" Scam

Inflation has surged and threatening the ‘feel good’ factor that the Manmohan Singh government promised before the elections. You might be wondering that how come I’m hoping that Indian government would fulfill promises. I know promises are meant to be broken but still the hope is that the government is going to take some steps to help the economy grow in this recession period. Just trying to be lil optimistic. Now, just when the buildup for the new government is beginning, the inflation nightmare is back in flying colors, with the potential to undermine Congress’s agenda. While the poor — an influential category that Congress successfully wooed during the elections with its “aam aadmi plank”, are the worst sufferers. I remember reading as a child that once upon a time India was known as "sone ki chidiya (golden bird)". But now in 21st century it re-christened itself to land of scams. We all know about the famous Bofors scam, Telgi, Fodder (Chara), Shares and the recent Stayam Corporate scam. But I guess what tops all is “The Great Indian Dal Scam” which got uncovered as a result of the skyrocketed prices of pulses in Indian market. Government has imported a variety of pulses from the world market and stored it in various ports to be distributed in the local market in controlled prices to curb the inflation. The dal that was said to be imported for the aam aadmi didn’t reach the aam aadmi rather it went down the drains due to sheer negligence of the spineless government whose motive was to make money out of the basic human needs. The agricultural minister Sharad Pawar doesn’t have any answer to the carelessness and no one is there to take the onus for the 15-lakh tonnes of rotten pulses across various ports of India which amounts to 300 crores from our pockets paid as taxes. These pulses were not released to the local markets, as the ministers were more involved in plotting how to make money spent recently for their victory in the recent elections. Prices of pulses have risen to such an extent that some harried families even find meat a cheaper option. Not just exotic broccoli and mushrooms but the relatively affordable tomatoes, onions and potatoes - basic ingredients in most Indian meals - are moving away from the common man's reach as prices continue to soar because of our so called incompetent government. The daily used tur dal, which used to be 36-38 per KG, is now available at 5-star rates of 96-98 per KG. NDTV’s special report about the day-to-day life, infact hand-to-mouth living of the common man (like me) directly takes us to the dismay of downhearted common man who is directly and mostly affected with the soaring prices of his basic needs - Dal, rice and vegetables. Many households have entered the uncomfortable zone with each tick marked before rising prices - balancing the checkbooks. These are all essential items in an Indian household and the government is not doing anything to help us out of this crisis. Expenditure is unmanageable in the festive season and now ordinary living is also a hassle. To manage the home budget for a common man is getting more difficult with each passing day. Rising prices have hurt the living style of those who live on modest incomes. In the last one year India has noticed an abrupt rise of 10 to 60 per cent in pulse rates, making it quite testing for the poor to find the money for even basic nutrients and now our lower strata even will have to survive without protein-rich pulses. Even as city dwellers are worried about the price rise, suppliers and traders on the other hand are hoarding essential commodities to create artificial crisis. It is time for the Government authorities to instigate action against such suppliers and bring in relief from the increase in prices. However, this is the time when the opposition party would launch a nationwide stir against the Congress government for its failure to arrest rising prices instead of joining hands in coming up with some solution. These are one of those testing times when the government has to come up with something brilliant to prove their competency. Till then I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Fir bhi dil hai hindustani !!

Namma ooru- Bangalooru

Bangalore - a city known for its lush green gardens, scenic beauty and great weather all year round. Bangaloreans claim that the city is an Indian metropolis with a modern outlook. It is supposed to be the heart of the booming Indian software and electronics industry.

Sure, the illusion lasts for a week or a month. But let me tell you what Bangalore is really like when the smokescreen clears. For the metropolitan city that it is embracing people from all over the country, how about having a street sign in English or Hindi, for God’s sake! All road signs are in the local language, Kannada. Even the public transportation has signs in Kannada alone. I thought Chennai was bad when they insisted on putting up anti-Hindi protests everywhere. But at least they compensate for it by writing the bus destinations in English as well as Tamil!

Now to the root cause of the problem, the people of Bangalore. The state has been aptly named "Kar-natak" (make a scene). Sometime back they have imposed a seven-week moratorium on all non-Kannada movies here, meaning that movies in all other languages will be released only seven weeks after they have released in the rest of the country. This is supposed to uplift the sagging Kannada film industry, since nobody, not even a kannadiga, watches their lousy movies otherwise. Has anybody heard of anything more preposterous than this? Maybe Thackeray’s plan of driving all non-Maharashtrians out of Mumbai came close.

Even with the "modern and broad" outlook the Bangaloreans have, companies still prefer to recruit only from local colleges, preferably kannada speaking populace. During official meetings, lunch or any other team gatherings, they speak almost exclusively in Kannada, so a non-speaker (like me) is absolutely flabbergasted in all weekly meetings and conferences. And to think that the French are snobbish!! Public transport: Autos: another big pain the ass. The drivers are rude and are very choosy as in which route passenger they would take. Aren’t they supposed to take any fare as per law? Thanks to our disfunctional police staff who are more engrossed in making money out of the thelawalas and roadside chaiwalas. The auto drivers have very outrageously lamest possible excuses for not taking a particular fare. Some samples when asked for a ride- Its too far (why the hell would I take a ride if its close by?). Its too close (really? I think I should walk instead), There is lot of traffic (and you do not want to contribute to the traffic?) I wont get a return customer from there (how about I drop you back here?) and and the list goes on. Another problem, if you don’t have change you are screwed. Fisrtly the meter runs faster than the olympic winner and on top of that you end up paying extra bucks as they would never have change. I mean common guyz you are working stop begging for heavens sake. $#@&^%. Nightlife: A typical Cosmopolitan city like bangalore which has a sizeable section of youth, business travelers, tourists and even local citizens, is devoid of night life. Bangaloreans, who work late into the evening and need some time for relaxation and recreation cannot do anything after 11:30 pm. Its sad that the Sillicon Valley of India is forcefully slipped into sleep before cindrella hours while the other countrymen in different cities have good time till late hours. The reason offered out for such rule is to control crime rate and safeguard the citizens from the mishaps at belated hours. Many big cities of the world allow an active nightlife but are by no means unsafe. Moreover, this shows sheer incompetancy of the local “4 kilo tond waale so called policemen”.

Still, one learns to get around. For all the deriding remarks I made about the people here, I must say this: there are some who are very helpful in every way possible. Some of them even go out of their normal routine to help a stranger out, which is unheard of elsewhere in the country. They are also very conscious of their image and communicate very well beyond the language barriers that exist. Even though Bangalore is a sleepy little town, people sure are active during the hours that the city is awake. Not too many lazing around, it’s a nice thing to see. Take in the good and filter out the bad, that’s what I am here to do. While in Bangalore… "Namma ooru, Bangalooru!"

Reminiscence of my past Quarter Century

Today on 22nd Jun 2009, which happens to be my birthday, I sit here in my cubicle scribbling down this piece of post. Over the past couple of years birthdays have not been a special occasion, as it used to be when I was a toddler. Now a days, its just another day, jab main mann maarkar office jaata hun and work till I drop. Today in the midst of colleagues, sitting in the boardroom, unable to receive calls from friends and relatives, I wonder how this particular day has changed over the past quarter century of my existence. I remember as a child my birthday used to be a special occasion with new clothes and shoes to wear, mom’s special delicacies to feed on and some extra generous savings from granny to make the piggy bank little heavier. Colored balloons decorating the hall, Mickey Mouse shaped cake, colorful candles and entire gang of bachcha party singing the happy birthday jingle. When I close my eyes, I recall my happiest days as a child. Those were the days of innocence, fun and frolic. 28 years ago on the same day, a baby boy was escorted into the world, crying loud enough for a deaf man to get a pair of earmuffs lest his eardrums go tattered. After all it’s the momma's job to tell me that unless I kept quiet gabbar aa jaayega. Months rolled up and I grew up into a pretty normal kid who thought thumb is gods candy so I hogged on it. Funny days were those. I used to toddle about the dining room and reach the kitchen to see momma cook, waiting anxiously for her to look and throw an endearing smile at me, and when she did, I would chuckle and clap my hands singing in my own baby language loudly, and eventually land on my bums. I kept repeating this act while she was in the kitchen. And at the end of it, when she was done with her chores, she would hug me and kisses followed and I sang even louder. Ahh the joys of the first-born kids. As the days passed by the young toddler turned into a very naughty lad who used to take pleasure in destructing any random object available within 2 feet height. As mom recalls I used to break the glass jars and bottles because I loved the sound of breaking glass. What a unique music lover was I. Once I even dropped my younger brother while mom was busy with her usual household chores. I picked him and bang… my brother was on the floor crying with a bump on his head while I was all clapping with chuckle. And what followed were spankings from momma. In our building a motley crew of about 10 of us ran around with gay abandon, unbothered by adult concerns. If we fell, which we did, bandages and our mothers’ love awaited our scraped knees back home. We were the noisiest lot; we would fight, cry, cold shoulder each other, but would eventually patch up. Unlike kids now, we didn’t brandish cellphones. But we left voice messages for each other the old-fashioned way. “Will you come out to play?” we’d shriek. It did not matter if one were on the ground floor and the friend, on the third, much to the chagrin of snoozing adults. As the years went by, play was abandoned for studies. The noise of children mellowed and the drone of television took over however naughtiness grew proportionately. I used to gasp seeing Sunny deol planting his "dhaai kilo ka haath" on the "chaar kilo ki tond" of bollywood villains and how He-Man and Spiderman used to send hooligans flying in air with their karate kicks. I remember once I kicked the door after I was back from school...Mom heard the loud bang...Two slaps later I was as calm as gurudutt silently scribbling my homework. PS: My mom’s a pro in slapping though, all thanks to yours truly. I have given her enough chances while growing to practice on me. Eventually years rolled by and the kid grew up to become apna desi no nothing Engineer slogging hard to make a living. Today after 28 years history repeated itself and yes it’s my birthday sans the balloons or cake or the happy birthday jingle. How I wish I could carry myself back to those fun-filled days when having fun was more important than feeding the ego, sunday special delicacies by mom were awaited more than the pizza delivery guy, when dad’s shoulders were the highest place in the world, the annual visits to the circus/zoos were eagerly awaited, when dadi/nani ki kahaniyon ke imaginary jaadugars were more scarier than our managers or deadlines. While I jotted these memories, I clutched my childhood close and left the chaotic present for a while only to realize that we cant get back what we have already passed.

Wanna Salsa ?

Arms were everywhere, shooting up towards the sky, sliding off each other’s arms and backs, and you could only wonder if they had discovered some magical potion that cuts through everything. Sweat dropped off their brows and clung desperately to their clothes but the smiles never waned. Pirouetting on pencil heels and looking ever so electric in their colorful tops, they locked themselves into the arms of the men and flowed like wind. Welcome to the enchanting world of salsa and salseros where the greatest high is dancing, and not alcohol or smoke. For years I was intimidated every time I walked into a club with four left feet. I would freeze at the thought of someone asking me to dance. Sometime back couple of my friends joined salsa classes and in no time they were electrifying the stage with their moves. When I saw them flowing to the tunes I can’t stop myself. What is instantly appealing about Salsa is that being essentially a social dance, it attracts and brings together all kinds of people with a magnetic energy that cuts across age, culture, language and any other human boundaries. I have seen the plainest, shyest, so called insignificant men and women transform into graceful, passionate and poetic movers on the dance floor. Learn the basics, feel the music and let yourself go. Immediately yours truly also enrolled to the next batch and now here I am in F-Bar moving to the beats. The pulse of salsa music has a hypnotic quality; it gets under your skin and makes you move almost involuntarily. What attract the common dancer to salsa are the elegant yet sensual glides and twirls. Two people, who may be perfect strangers, can connect and move to salsa, even if only for five minutes. While merengue and jive are peppier, salsa is more passionate and stylish. I attend classes during the weekends and in the evening, there are performances ranging from the exotic, to the energetic to the sublime. So what if Bangaloreans aren’t ‘technically’ allowed to shake a leg? That doesn’t stop us from getting out there and hitting the dance floor — on a weekday! Three weeks back was the first in series of Tuesday night Salsa’s at F-Bar. We went after work and grooved to the moves till the Cinderella hours. As I’m just a beginner, I managed to stamp on my partners feet couple of times without any guilty feeling :D. As experts say, the key is not to be scared of mistakes, but to live with them, bash on and just keep dancing. That’s the only way to learn. Apart from the fun and learning new art, the newfound friends are an added bonus. But most importantly, I have found yet another way to express myself, and get closer to my soul. The salsa fever is catching up fast and I believe pretty soon everybody would know how to salsa. From classes at various gymkhanas to dedicated nights at Casa Del Sol and F-Bar, lively music, sensual yet not-too-intimidating moves and a very social, interactive couple dance—are the key ingredients for the success of-Salsa. Wanna dance???