A deal that took my breath away…

The year was 2004 and Gachibowli was a very sleepy place then. The AP Housing Board Colony at Gachibowli was built on a set of low hills around a lake. It was a very beautiful place with the famous Hyderabad hanging rocks all around. I really loved the semi forest like feel of the place but I must confess that I was afraid of the eerie feeling at nights. While most of my colleagues and friends felt this was a place for a fugitive, I chose this as my abode. Little did I know that I was going to live here for the next five years!

Singled in life I was trying to find my feet in a new city. As a single child this did not come naturally to me. Born, brought up, produced and developed in a super metro like Bombay I had never been tortured or subjected to household chores of any kind. Leave aside cooking, sweeping or cleaning, I had not much experience in even locking my room. There was always someone to take care of these duties at home.

In a suburb like Gachibowli what was most difficult to find in those days was a servant. I did not know any Telugu and thus could only practice dumb charades with the women who came to negotiate with me. Even after engaging with a few my life was a nightmare. These women would refuse to understand any instructions and keep to timings of their own. They would go unannounced on long leave and demand cash advances in the middle of the month. I also knew that I was paying at least 40% more than the market rate. My middle class neighbors who helped me communicate with my servants often took advantage of this and negotiated package deals with them to get the benefit of the higher premium I was paying.

Among all this walked in Shaheen. She was frail, lived far, did not impress with her work at first but spoke Hindi. The language barrier broken I managed to negotiate much better and soon we were in a deal. Shaheen as the name suggest was also a Muslim and with firm secularism celebrated every festival on earth. She would thus want leave every now and then. Also since she stayed a little far she found it difficult to keep timings. As I had hardly anything of value in my house I was open to the idea of sharing the keys to my place with her.

One day I found my TV on when I returned in the evening. I realized that my assets were being used without my knowledge. Since I would meet her only over weekends and on pay days the communication gap this time was of a different type. I also knew that confrontation would not help as she would just chuck the job. So that weekend I decided to very politely ask her about this.

While she dismissed the allegations, soon she started demanding some more privileges. She had inspected my refrigerator and candidly told me that since there are only water bottles in the fridge she should be allowed to use it to store some stuff occasionally. At first I was reluctant but she showed me the logic in terms of equal power consumption in both cases. I was amazed by her ability to analyze the situation and negotiate. I had no option but to give in to her demand.

I soon forgot about this arrangement as Shaheen would seldom keep anything in the fridge and I would rarely visit my refrigerator thanks to the Hyderabadi winter.

It should have been a night in early April as I remember clearly I was back from the ISB Graduation Day Celebrations. Hyderabad had just begun to get hot and I decided to walk into my fridge and pull out a bottle of cold water to drink. When I opened the door I saw two large goat heads wrapped in a transparent plastic bag staring right at me. I almost let out a scream and dropped the bottle in my hand before running for cover. Was this a scene from a horror show?

After collecting my breath and gathering my courage I decided to approach my fridge door again. The packets were still there so that was nothing paranormal about this. Now I started thinking and inspecting the stuff. The heads in my fridge were like the ones you would see at a butcher’s shop. While thinking I also realized that it was bakri eid a day before and thus finally I concluded that the culprit was Shaheen. I did not have to be Sherlock Homes for that.

I mustered up the courage to speak to Shaheen the next day but my aggression went for a toss when we both had a good laugh about the incident. When my neighbor’s kid inquired about my scream the previous night, I taught him to play this practical joke on his folks at home. Alas they did not have a fridge nor did we have a spare goat head so he found some other carcass from the garbage nearby and tried the trick by putting it in his dad’s trunk. The foul smell was a giveaway and the beating he got actually made me feel sorry for him.

On a ten point scale this blog would only score a Five. To read some of my higher rated blogs click on http://tbgfl.blogspot.com/



To read my views on the news click on http://llewellyn-desouza.blogspot.com/



To read about my adventures in my Yellow WagonR click on http://adventureswiththeyellowwagonr.blogspot.com/

Don’t switch it off first Nagmani.

The GSB elections at the ISB are almost always keenly contested and thus declaring the results is a very sensitive activity for the staff of the Co curricular activities (CCA) team. Shiv has been doing this for years and I think I assisted him one year when this entire near fiasco happened.

This was a year when Pavit had declared that he was going to buy world peace after winning the elections and Rajesh Mani had declared that he is not half as bad as he looks. To be honest I always though he did not look all that bad at all … wonder what made him say that. I think Bharat Ayer the future NDTV Profit guy was the third candidate but I don’t remember if there was a fourth.

We had finished counting and were ready to declare results. Shiv’s experience told us that the moment the results would be sent by email, all the candidates and their string of supporters may descend on the CCA office.

The discussion that followed set us on a plan. We called Nagmani the office help woman and Shiv explained to her in great detail how she should use the mouse to click the ‘Send’ and once the screen changes immediately switch off the computer. The plan was to get into a car reach the ISB gate and call Nagmani and ask her to do this. We then planned to switch off the mobile phones and return back on Monday and hoped by then the storm would have subsided.

We reached the ISB gate and Shiv called Nagmani and said something to her in Telgu. A long silence from Shiv followed and after around a min he said ‘Shit’ and started to shout on phone. I could not understand a thing but what unfolded later makes me laugh even today.

Nagmani had first switched off the computer and thus has nothing on the screen to click.

Poor Shiv had to go back and set it up all over again and I don’t think he tried anything smart this time round.

The CISF at Hyd airport thought I was a terrorist...

Sunday 16th May 2010.

I was up and away early to the airport. I was going to Chennai for a morning evening trip. I had no luggage to check in. After meeting the smiling lady on the other side of the Jet Konnect counter and getting my boarding pass I thought I would go and have some breakfast at the airport’s departure food court. So I trotted towards security.

 

On most other days Hyd airport is as deserted as a cemetery. Today there was an unusual amount of rush at the security.

 

After patently waiting for almost 5 minutes to place my bag on the conveyer and watching people push their bags into it I decided to push mine too. The CISF security saw me do that and said in a stern voice... “keep safe distance from this... it is a machine.” I could not help myself saying... “if this is a machine... y is it taking so long.”

 

The CISF guy gave me a dirty look and I gave him a sweet smile... Didn’t work I thought but I was in no mood to make him feel any better.

 

Soon I was stepping on the yellow line and getting myself publicly groped in the name of frisking. Travelling so often I have learned to ensure not to let the metal detector beep even once... I do this ensuring all metal is on the table and not in my pockets... So my frisking was over sooner than expected.

 

With the stamped boarding pass in my pocket I moved to collect my luggage.

To my surprise the security guy asked me to open my bag...

 

I never expected anything to be there but since the security has the right to ask you to open the bag I did not argue and unzipped my back pack.

 

The objects the security found objectionable were two empty disposable water bottles in my bag. These were in my bag because I had visited a park with my wife and 7 month old daughter the previous day and like a good citizen who did not want to litter in the park I had carried the bottles home in my back pack. I forgot to dispose them at home as well and in the morning when I left home at 4.45 am it did not strike me that these harmless objects were still in my bag.

 

The CISF guy then asked me “ Why are you carrying these empty bottles?”

 

I knew that the CISF does not allow you to carry water bottles with water and wanted to make the situation light by cracking a joke here so I told the enquiring officer... “because you will not let me carry full bottles...”

A few chinki air hostesses heard this and giggled...

 

Phew... that was the end of it...

 

Insulted and furious the CISF officer asked me to step aside... I knew I was in trouble from the look of the people now surrounding me...

 

I was first asked for identification. I showed him my office Id. I thought this would be good as it was good to get me inside the airport.

“No,” he said... “Have you not got something endorsed by the Government.” I wanted to protest... why do you now want a government endorsed id when at the gate you were impressed by my office id... but I dared not argue...

 

I put my hand in my back pocket to fetch my wallet and almost all who were surrounding me ran for cover... I innocently pulled out my wallet and started to look for my driver’s licence.

 

I honestly had not noticed these guys run for cover. A kid who was watching this laughed out loud and broke the silence. It was only then that I realised what had happened and smiled myself.

 

This was it... hell broke out... The mean looking CISF guys started to shout at me...

One of them took my divers licence examined it and discarding(ly) dumped it on the table...

Another shouted at me and demanded my passport...

Before I realised two guys had held my hand and were almost dragging me to a room nearby under the pretext of making me meet someone more important...

In the room I saw an unusually small guy sitting on a chair with his feet dangling in the air and looking at a computer screen with concentration that could beat a teenagers ability to look at pornography. The two guys who had almost dragged me to the room threw my belongings on the floor in front of him and shouting(ly) explained that they found two empty bottles in my bag and told him that I could not satisfy them with my identification.

He still concentrating on the screen pushed a register like book towards me and asked me to fill the details in it... as I took position to bend down to write in the register on the table the small guy looked at me and realised I was big enough to murder him in one stroke if required. So he told the other two guys and asked them to stay in the room till I finish.

After I finished he asked me for my passport and I explained to him that I usually do not travel with my passport when I fly domestic. He then asked me where did I work and the mention of ISB made him a little soft.

Not wanting to scare him to by putting my had in my other back pocket to draw my visiting card case I asked him if he would want to see my business card. He agreed and I gave him a card.

From then on it was easy...

He next asked me where and why I was travelling... I explained everything and he was amused too...

But by now I could hear my name on the Public Address system. Although this was the most obnoxious pronunciation of my name I knew it was me they were calling out for as it was already 6.10 and my flight was scheduled to fly at 6.20.

I told this to the small guy in the chair and he asked me to gather my things... one of the other two started to help me but the one of them kept arguing that they had still not satisfactorily established my identity.

I was told that a thorough verification of my identity would be done in the next few hours and as I was in a hurry I agreed.

Soon I found myself in a siren blowing CISF jeep that took me to my Jet Konnect flight.

Thank God I work for ISB.

Binary Cricket!

The Game is called ‘Binary Cricket’ coz there are only two players per team. The matche are played in a box type enclosure like an indoor basket ball court with a rubber or plastic ball.

The game and how it is played:
Binary Cricket is a super condensed version of the Limited Overs Game of Cricket.
Each innings will consist of only 3 overs a side.
The fun part is even if you get out you get to bat on.
However, each dismissal will cost you 2 runs.
It is a batsman’s game so bowlers will be allowed to do only the underarm action.
Each ‘no ball’ and ‘wide’ will be punished with a 5 run penalty.
But batsmen will have to work hard as there are no fours or sixes.
And as the fielding side has only two players they too will have to (quite literally) cover a lot of ground. (No neutral fielders!)
Normal cricketing rules with regards to dismissals, runs, overthrows and other things will apply except no ‘Leg before Wicket’ (lbw) and no ‘leg -bye.’
The onus is on the team fielding to finish 3 overs in less than 15 minutes.
Failing to do so will invite a 10 run penalty per minute starting from the ‘first second’ of the minute.
As the game is played at a boisterous pace that can give Basketball players a complex. The fielding side is allowed one timeout of 1 min and the batting side can take two timeouts of 1 min each.
To encourage women participation the matches are played with a soft tennis or rubber ball.
If you like swing you can try a plastic ball.
The Game requires very nominal Cricketing skills but requires extra ordinary agility and aggressive athleticism plus an extraordinary ‘will to win.’
This is a ‘Unisex’ game any David can kill a Goliath.
Anyone with an able body and a good cricketing mind can play and win. Trust me when I say ‘any one can win.’
Wish you all the best...

This is how I got into ISB.

It was late August 2004. I had been married for less than one year and was going through one of the worst phases of my life. My wife had seen a lot of potential in me and had nagged me into giving up my job at St. Xavier’s College. I was now working for the Indo American Society as a Manager for Academic Programmes.

By changing my job I had not only lost my super star status at my workplace (something I had become used to) but also had to adjust to a new work culture. This adjustment was getting on to my nerves. I was getting some salary but was totally unhappy about it. More than me my wife was unhappy about it.

Moreover my wife got a superb job offer and had decided to take it up. Her salary was thus now going to be more than double my salary. She was thus ashamed of me and had left no stone unturned to let her displeasure be known to me.

Battered and bruised by her nagging and outright wild n abusive remarks, I went to work everyday.

At work, that day the electricity had failed and the only thing that was working was my computer because of the UPS. My mouse had a severe malfunction and was very difficult to use. So I by mistake clicked on a pop up of monster dot com.

Realizing what had happened I decided to make use of what had just popped up. It was 1135 in the morning when I finished filling in the details and went out of the office to tell the security man to instruct the student who had come for the 1130 class to leave as there was a power failure.

Many of the guys who had turned up for the class were agitated and thus I had to spend some time pacifying them. When I returned to my seat it was around 12ish. My secretary came in with an invite of her wedding and placed the card on my table. After exchanging the usual pleasantries she asked if she could go out for lunch with her fiancée. After she left I got a call from Simran Khara from ISB. She told me she had seen my profile on monster and was asking if I would be interested in working for ISB. At first I thought it was a practical joke but later said ok to the interviews on phone.

My first interview was scheduled for the next day at 11 and the next one at 2 pm. Both on phone. When I came back home that day I told this to my wife n she told me “be careful!” I just casually also told this to my dad and he told me the usual …. “Go! All the best but I am sure your worst will also get u through… so do ur worst!”

After I finished both the interviews, Simran again rung me up and told me I had to come down to Hyderabad for the next round of formalities. I had to book my tickets so I called my secy in to take down my schedule and see if a booking is available. As she left I noticed her wedding card on the table, I opened it to see an embossed Ganpati on it.

I flew down to Hyderabad for my interviews and came back with mixed feelings. The ISB is like the TAJ Mahal. Once a person sets foot here and is given an opportunity to imagine, you can be sure the guy will dream of making it big. I too came back with similar feelings. My interviews like always had gone off real well and there should not have been any problems.

However, even 10 days after there was no news. I had almost lost hope.

On the 11th of September, I landed up at my office as usual and was meeting up with this girl from ToI. She had a gift for me. An Idol of Lord Moreshwar one of the Astvinayak idols from near Pune. She was kind of afraid to give it to me as I am a Catholic. I put her at ease and took the idol and put it down on my table as if to install it and told her this will now always remain with me. She was so happy to see me accept it that she thanked me a lot before she left. As soon as she had left, Monica Reddy from the HR at ISB rung me up to ask why had I not replied to their offer letter. I told her I had not got any. So she checked with me for my email address and found a few ‘L’(s) missing. Soon she sent me the letter and the rest is history.

This is how I got into ISB. String of coincidences or just one huge miracle by the Man Himself?