The God of Cricket makes 200 in an ODI.

We all know that Sachin Tendulkar is a great batsman. Being an Indian I am a big follower of his game. I like the rest of India have always looked forward to seeing him play good cricket. Most of the time when he plays I have unreasonable expectations from him.

It was like any other day… but today India was playing South Africa. I was in office when Naveen came over to my cabin and asked me if I wanted to see the match live on the internet. A few clicks and 2 CISCO commercials later I was watching the match.

Out of the blue I suddenly felt today Sachin will score 200 runs. To be honest this was not the first time I was wishing for something as unreasonable as a 200 from Sachin. But this was just a wish… I had a few weeks back when Sachin crossed 160 against Australia also made such a wish but this time was different.

I decided to share my wish on twitter, FaceBook and other networking sites. “My wish for today: India should score over 400 and Sachin should score the first ODI 200. 3:22 PM Feb 24th via web”

Needless to say my wish and prediction came true and the rest as they say is history.

The Tolani College Interview.

Few months out of my MBA I was looking out for some meaningful jobs… I had already bagged some stupid sales assignments but was getting totally frustrated with the unreasonable targets and paltry remuneration. I never thought I would be doing this kind of a job after an MBA. My parents were very supportive and ensured I did not fall into a depression. Not that I was ever susceptible but being the only child my parents ensured that they did their part most dutifully.

One morning before going to work I was scanning through the papers and saw this small classified advertisement from Tolani College of Commerce. The ad was for a lecturer’s post at the college’s BMS section. I had heard about the ambitious BMS course of the University of Bombay and was always inclined to teach. Plus I thought anything would be better than sales.

In response to my application I got a call from a sweet sounding person from Tolani college called Manju. She informed me that I had an interview. “Wow” I thought, “that was quick.”

Quite honestly I thought there would not be many MBAs interested in a teaching job. Moreover Tolani was never such a reputed college. In fact I had never heard of this college myself except that there was a bus that directly went to this college from the Juhu bus station.

My interview was at 12 noon and I used my Kinetic Honda to get to Tolani.

I soon realised I was totally wrong about the number of people applying for this job. Contrary to my expectation more than 50 MBAs of all shapes and sizes had turned up. There were MBAs from some of Bombay’s most prestigious institutes. Some of them even had up to 10 years of experience in the industry. Then there were others who claimed to be running businesses. So I never understood their motivation to apply to a job like this.

Many pretty women who had done their MBA some years back and were now married and were looking out for some ‘lite assignment’ had also turned up. These trophy wives even had the temerity to shamelessly talk about how this kind of a ‘little or no responsibility role’ would enhance their quality of life and provide them independence to buy vanity products out of their own pocket money.

Although the wait was killing but I somehow was having a good feeling about it. I made light of the grim silence that prevailed in the waiting room by making some casual remarks about the desperation. Some liked it and laughed, some didn’t understand it and some smirked and gave me those looks that were asking me not to act smart. These things helped me gauge competition. Making instant conversations with almost everyone who was not looking into the files I realised that there was no one in the room like me.

Yes on the negative side nobody in the waiting room had an MBA from a place like BVIMK, but on the positive side no one there had any idea about a fulltime lecturer’s roles and responsibilities. My communication skills and confidence too were better than most candidates. So much for being born to two Professors.

After waiting for almost 5 hours, it was my turn. I was the last guy to be interviewed that day. Ironically when I entered the room the panel did not look exhausted at all. On the contrary each of the 3 old men in the room seemed to be having fun. I thought may be the experience of interviewing so many women had got the oldies exited.
The first question almost stumped me. Aspi Doctor asked me, “What is your favourite TV Programme?”

“Bournvita Quiz Contest …” I found myself answering. I had never expected a question like this upfront. The answer was more of a reflex.

Another guy called Shahani asked me why I wanted to teach after an MBA. So I told him about my fascination for lecturing and gave him a little bit of my background by telling him that I was the son of two Professors. Wow that literally got me the job. Two of the three panellists knew my parents and I thought getting this job would be just a cake walk now. But then suddenly Aspi said “Well that does not mean you can teach. You see teaching is neither hereditary nor osmotic.”

Phew… never knew what to make of that statement, especially the osmotic bit.

There were other questions that followed. “Business Process Outsourcing… Do you know anything about this?” A Sindhi poet called Mirchandani asked. I think I gave an impressive answer. Honestly I had no clue what it meant. Another question “What will you do if a student asked you a doubt and you are not able to answer it?” In my mind I thought… “well, bluff… What else?” but controlled my emotions and keeping the most serious face said “To the best of my ability I will prepare before the class but if such a situation arises, I will admit I do not know and try and find the answer before the next class.”

As soon as I mentioned ‘admit,’ the Sindhi poet jumped up and said… “You will admit???” And I stood my ground and said “yes I will.” Though Mirchandani did not like my frankness Aspi and Shahani who surely had more experience teaching than writing things that people do not ready bought into my side of the stand.
More meaningless arguments followed. Somewhere in the middle of the interview I realised they had already selected.

In the end Aspi informed me that they will connect with me soon and if shortlisted I would have to go to the Head office for another interview round. I was almost certain I would be shortlisted and that is what happened. I was summoned to ‘Baktawar,’ the head office of Tolani Shipping. Two more people were shortlisted with me. One was an eye candy type trophy wife and another was a 65 years plus gentleman.
The interview there too was similar except that the panel now had another member – Rohet Tolani.

After the interview I was confident again but this time the guys chose the eye candy over me. A short letter arrived few days later in the evening by hand delivery. I was almost heart broken when some prick called Ram who first said he was the Vice – President and later corrected it and said he was the Vice - Principal of Tolani College called up and said “congratulations.”

I didn’t quite understand, but Ram explained that there had been a mistake and I was selected. Now before I could celebrate, Aspi the Principal of the college called up and said that there had been another mistake and my heart skipped a beat.

Aspi informed me that though I was selected but I would have to do a demo lecture to prove my worth. I thought that would be easy.

So on Friday the 13th of August 1999 I joined Tolani College as a Lecturer for the BMS.

More funny stories on Ram coming up in future blogs...

The Jiyala n Hyd Biryani connection…

One of the main time pass activities in Kolhapur where I was sentenced for two years was watching movies. My diary of those days tells me that by the end of the stay I had watched more than a hundred and twenty five movies. We would go as a group to watch any kind of flicks that ranged from naughty ones like Sirocco to classics like Titanic. We also watched a lot of Hindi films too like Dil Se to more nondescript ones like Mere Sapno ki Rani. Super flops like Prithvi and Jhoot Bole Kuwa Kate can also be included in our list.

This will give you an idea how desperately devoid of entertainment our college life was.

One Friday in my final semester, our HR class as usual got over early. Three out of the six who were in class thus decided to go for a movie. We took an auto and landed up this place just beyond the railway station. There were a lot of theatres and cinema halls in Kolhapur and so getting a ticket was not an issue. However there were hardly any options. Jiyala was a movie that had a lot of TV publicity. From the very name we did not seem to like it but still decided to go in.

The movie lived up to our expectations. It was hopeless and the three of us were feeling miserable for having spent our money. On our return to our hostel, we decided to not let anyone know how bad our experience was. In fact we gave raving reviews and thus by evening another set of hostel inmates decided to go for the movie. When they came back they were so dejected that they wanted to blow us originals apart but realised that they had been fooled. To ensure that they were not the only ones fooled they too decided to give a 5 star rating to the movie. As a consequence, by Sunday everyone had seen the movie in the hostel and declared it a hit.

Even today when we meet sometimes we make fun of this Jiyala adventure of ours.

Hyderabadi Biryani too I feel has a similar thing about it.

I think long years ago some disgruntled traveller to Hyderabad must have had to gulp down the 100% substandard and barely edible Biryani at the Paradise hotel and the revenge continues to haunt us.

Love thy neighbour but don’t get caught...

In school I was not one of those whom you could define as a ‘naughty boy.’ However, somehow it was me who always got caught. I think it had something to do with my height. I was the tallest boy in class. I was the youngest too, but that’s another story.

Like it happens in most primary schools, at the end of the day we had to fall in line and walk out of the school gates. Since I was the tallest I was usually seated at one of the last benches in the class. I would try hard but somehow the anxiety within me to meet my folks outside the gate would make me invariably break the queue. Now whenever someone breaks the rules of this so very unjust system, s/he was subjected to detention. My breaking the law was so regular that my class teacher almost made it a ritual to hold me back.

It was my 9th birthday and like most school students I too had gone to school all dressed up. At the end of the day, I thought to myself and decided not to break the rule today as it was my birthday. I treated, my getting caught on my birthday as something that would occur all year round. So very cautiously I decided to ‘fall in line.’

Out of sheer habit my class teacher picked on me and subjected me to a detention. I cried, pleaded and reasoned but she would not give in. I made a last ditch attempt by telling her it was my birthday n I did not deserve the punishments. She replied by telling me that this would teach me a lesson for life.

A lesson I did lean for life. After that day I never got caught for breaking the queue ever in school. I must confess though I never stopped breaking the queue till my last day at school but somehow no one ever managed to catch me.

The rationale behind my casual approach to life.

People often ask me how I could have been so causal with big decisions of my life, like my marriage with Anita, my taking up an MBA in a classless college like BVIMK or my not applying my mind to clear the NET exams of the UGC that would have ensured me a permanent job in a college in Bombay.

I too wonder but may be the story of ‘The Verger’ my mum often told me when I was a kid must have had something to do with it.

THE VERGER is a story by W. Somerset Maugham.

It was about an illiterate guy who worked in a Church in London on odd jobs like cleaning, dusting and its upkeep. Suddenly one day a new Catholic priest who was commissioned to reform the parish asked this illiterate and near uneducated verger to pass an exam to retain his job. The poor guy to retain his job tried desperately to clear the test but after several attempts realised that it was not his cup of tea. Desperately dejected he hoped for a miracle but nothing happened and he lost his job.

At such times we all know the walk back home is long and painful. To fumigate his sorrow the guy thought of having a smoke and to his surprise could not find a single cigarette shop on the really long street he was walking on.

A business idea was thus born in his mind and soon he executed it. Thank god he was not an MBA and thus did not waste time writing a ‘business plan.’
His cigarette selling business flourished and within a matter of years he became a rich man; Rich enough for the bankers to notice.

On one of his many regular visits to the bank a high ranking bank official called him to the investments office and explained to him the benefits of investing instead of using the savings option. Convincing as they are, the banker managed to make a kill and convinced our verger to invest. All that the verger was expected to do was read the papers and sign.

This is when the cat was let out of the bag and the verger confess that he could not neither read nor write. The banker almost feeling pity for him said something that provides the ironical climax of the story.

He said “do you mean to say you became such a rich man without knowing how to read or write...? Imagine what you could have become if you only knew to read and write...”

Pat came the verger’s reply... “well I would have been a VERGER at that church around the corner there.”

Fr. Simon, SJ.

Fr. Simon was my boss when I taught at the St. Xavier’s college in Bombay. His simplicity had a profound impact on my life. He also has a great sense of humour and thus was my choice for the Toast Master for my wedding with Anita (ex-wife.)

Even though he was a priest, his discourses would make very interesting sermons.

This is what he said at my wedding:

There was a couple who happily married for a long time. So in this day and time when marriage is the first step towards a divorce, people wanted to know what their formula for such a successful relationship was. The wife being the talkative of the two was very forth coming with her explanation.

She said that the crux of most discords in a relationship is the decision making function in life. Decision making often leads to arguments which go on to become fights and thus result in unpleasantness.

So she explained how the couple right in the beginning of getting together had decided not to ever fight over decisions taken by the other.

The couple had apparently decided that all the ‘Big’ decisions in life would be taken by the Husband and all the ‘small’ decisions would be left to the wife. No arguments were entertained once the decisions were taken and thus happiness was guaranteed.

Some smart soul who had tried to apply this logic in his life came up to the couple and asked the obvious question: “Well who takes a decision and decides what is a ‘Big’ decision and which one is a ‘small’ decision?”

The Wife instantly replied.... “Oh! That is a very small decision... so it is left to me...”

They once thought I was dead.

It was one of those breaks in school we call summer vacations. Our exams had got over in March and the results were out in April. From then until a black Monday in the second week of June we had holidays.

To escape the heat in Bombay people would take a short break to hill stations but we had this ancestral home by the beach in Goa. This place needed heavy duty maintenance before the rains. So my summer vacations were neither short nor cool. They were always spent with family in Goa where the heat could make anyone see apparitions on the Candolim Beach.

I would year after year look forward to the semi luxury Kadamba bus ride to Goa. Somehow right from my childhood I always loved the Journey more than the destination. But that’s another story and I will leave it for another day.

I had learnt swimming at a very early age. My mum who had no knowledge of swimming taught me swimming by ringside instructions. Over the years I had mastered the art and could swim my way through most pools. On my many trips to Goa I had always begged and pleaded with my elders to let me swim in the sea but since I was the only child, I was always denied permission.

I wonder why they still feel the only child has it easy. Anyway moving on...

So it was around 11 am on a hot May morning in Goa that a group of children from the neighbourhood were going for a swim. The idea was to take a dip and thus cool off.

You must understand that this was a time where we did not even have a ceiling fan in our Goa house. Moreover they electricity situation in Candolim even today is pathetic. So the idea of taking a dip to cool off was actually not so bad.

I requested one of the older boys to help me with the permission from my parents and as my luck would have it he obliged. I think my luck was damn good and even my dad agreed to send me. My mum was worried and in her chicken-heartedness warned this older boy with dire consequences if something happened to me.

On the beach the logic was simple. I just ripped off my cloths and pushed my glasses in to the hands of one of the girls who had come to watch over us and jumped in to the water. I soon realised that swimming in the sea after one passed the waves is no different from swimming in a deep pool. What I did not realise thought was the fact that none of the boys who had come for the swim really knew to swim. Thus they went only as far into the water as their legs could carry them.

Without my glasses I was virtually blind. I had hardly a few meters of clear visibility beyond which it was a haze. Swimming to have fun I soon lost sight of land behind me. I only realised this when I wanted to turn back as I could not sight land. With water on all four sides, I should have been frightened to death. But as a kid I knew no fear. I decided to use my sense of direction. Moreover as it was day the Sun helped me. What I had learnt as a boring lesson in Geography was now suddenly making sense.

A little tired I managed to make my way back to land. I could hardly see where I had reached and there was nobody on the beach. I had lost track of the time and thus thought, may be the people who had come with me for the swim must have left. I realised that there was no sense looking for my friends and decided to head home. Although my home in Goa is hardly 90 meters from the water I still have no idea how I found my way back home from where I landed. In retrospect I believe that I may have been guided by some divine force because I actually found my way back quite easily.

Once back home I did not make much of my trip to the beach. I thought bragging would jeopardise my future chances of swimming in the sea.

I was so thirst that I started to drink directly from the earthen pot. Soon mum sent me off to a bath and then it was lunch. In the meanwhile I also managed to find myself a spare set of glasses and thus could finally see.

It is like a tradition to take an afternoon nap in Goa. So we all went to sleep. Around 4 in the evening I heard a shy knock at the door. As no one was up I decided to answer the door. At the door were a group of my neighbours who looked very scared. Some of them were crying and the moment they saw me the expressions on their face changed so drastically that I could not believe my eyes. Some of them looked at me as if they were seeing a ghost while others were relived and almost rejoicing. While I was wondering what had happened, I saw my clothes with one of them and another one carrying my glasses with both hands.

I soon realised what had happened. These guys thought I was dead when I did not come back from the sea.

Later they told my dad that they waited for me for almost an hour and when I did not come back they thought I was dead. Some of them who thought they would be held responsible for this were so afraid that they first went home and informed their parents about what had happened. Their parents then met and decided what to do and finally mustered up the courage to come to my home to break the news to my folks.

To their surprise they found me home.

Now for the caveat... don’t try this at home unless you know to swim...