Success at last!

My father always accused me of not being tenacious enough. He was also unhappy I was not ambitious and a bit of an under achiever.

I am still not ambitious and believe firmly in Nishkama Karma.

Though early in life I got things easily without putting in the hard yards, the last decade and a half has taught me many lessons, and the results were not quite in line with my efforts. I had to struggle for even small successes, which never came when I wanted, but after a prolonged struggle. So much so that when the goal was finally attained, the feeling is one of relief than joy.

Today is one such day.

I conceived a big project in 2010 for my Company and thought it will become a reality in 2011. Everyone associated with the project gave it up for good by 2012 but I kept it alive. It was sheer obstinacy at times. I was ridiculed and I could sense people making snide remarks behind my back. Finally there was array of hope on 1st January 2015. Again hopes rose, only to fall by April. But I plodded on, made painful progress step by small step and finally, last weekend everything fell in place and today a new company with a Capital of OMR 500,000 was finally registered to manage a OMR 4 million project. This company will offer Drilling Tools on Rental and the Investing Partner is a very successful businessman and a real gentleman, which augurs well for the future.

I should be feeling on top of the world but I am just too tired. But there is a satisfaction in this tiredness.

This journey of 5 years taught me patience, perseverance, tenacity and the value of plain honest hard work.

And it was pure Nishkama karma.

My father is no more, having died in 2004. But I am sure from somewhere up there he must be feeling content in his own enigmatic, understated way.

A teacher being remembered

Teaching is a thankless job - during and after.

It is very rare that Students take the trouble to reach out to their teacher, remember them and wish them.

I, who give lot of respect to my Gurus ( I still call my Tennis Coach, 'Sir', though everyone else, including 6 year old kids call him 'Venky'), am unfortunate in many a way that I do not have the Contact details of any of my teachers, all of whom I vividly remember, and have contributed in their own way to mould me.

And being a teacher myself, having taught MBA students for 10 long years, I am proud that at least a handful of them still hold me in high regard, though we are in touch very rarely.

So it was a pleasant surprise to get this simple mail from a student who was under me 7 years ago.

Dear Sir,

Wish you all the best of health, wealth and cheer .Thank you for helping me out as a friend and teacher.

"Happy Teachers day" Sir !

God bless! 

Loving Regards 

Sharon 

At times I have wondered whether it was worth all the immense trouble I took in mentoring my students, now that I have stopped teaching since 2010 (One can sit back and reflect in an impassioned manner now that 5 years have passed. The picture on the right was taken after my last class on 27th September 2010). But mail from Sharon and a call from Shyam, suggested that it was indeed worth the effort.

Maybe when I look back late in my life, the main noble thing I would have done was to be a teacher and I might still savour the memories

Don't be an Abhimanyu in Business and Life

I sacrificed 17 years of my Work Experience when I joined somewhere at the lower end of the ladder in an Investment Bank in Kuwait. I was known as an Educationist and this was hampering my career in Kuwait, where one can easily get type cast. Once an Educationist, always an Educationist is the motto in Middle East. There is no talk about transfering the knowledge of one sector to another.

It is another matter that I grew up very fast in the Investment Banking Sector, partly due to favourable market conditions, partly due to the Company registering phenomenal growth in the Private Equity Sector and partly due to good fortune. I have never looked back since. Though I have moved away from Core Investment Banking, I still think and act like one, and have not forgotten the lessons I learned during my stint as an Investment Banker.

Though I had been an entrepreneur once in the past, having been a franchisee of NIIT, I need to admit that it came too early in my career, at the age of 29, when in retrospect, I have to admit, I was not ready for the task. I did not have a good grasp of Finance, Costing, and was poor in man-management. I also thought there will be sustainable growth, and the higher revenue will justify the higher cost and paper over other cracks. When the inevitable downturn came, and the growth plateaued, I didnt have too many answers. And to boot, I didnt know where I went wrong.

I got the answer to this riddle during my stint as an Investment Banker. I am a sucker for new ideas, and whenever I get a good hair brained scheme that requires funding, I used to champion the cause and take it to my Chairman, explaining to the virtues of the project and the profit that will accrue to the Company. He will listen patiently and ask just one question 'Rajaaan, what is the exit?'. I didnt know initially what he meant. But later on learned that Investment Companies enter at an early growth phase, add value and exit when the time is right, making a tidy profit. The exit option is always important. This was drilled into me time and again. These days I dont encourage any investment proposal without a clear exit strategy.

Be it in business or in personal life or professional life, always have an exit strategy before you enter.

Remember the story of Abhimanyu, who learned while in the womb how to break into Chakravyuha, but did not know how to exit, and paid for it with his life. Whenever I have an itch to start a venture without considering the exit, I remember these stanza,

Veenithallo Kidakkunnu Dharaniyil
Kshonithavumanijallo Siva Siva
Nalla Marathaka Kallinotothoru
Kalyanaroopan Kumaran Manoharan

How to evaluate others?

Test a SERVANT while in the discharge of his DUTY

A RELATIVE in DIFFICULTY,

A FRIEND in ADVERSITY, and

A WIFE in MISFORTUNE

                    -Chanakya Neethi

An unforgettable experience all those years back

The year was 1986. I was in my 3rd Semester of MBA, at the University Campus in Calicut. TV came to Calicut in 1984 and the hostel did not have a TV.

You need to know the atmosphere in the University Campus those days. Only the rank holders get admission to the PG programs in the Campus, and the Campus offered and still does offer only PG programs. Studying in the campus was a honour, as the seats are limited to 10 or 12, and only the best from the Malabar region of Kerala manage to get admission. Most of them were from poor family, bookworms and had no life outside their chosen area of specialization. Sports was a distraction for them, and they spent most of their time in the classrooms or in their department library or in the huge University Library. They hardly socialized.

The only extroverted students were us, 11 MBA students (out of which 3 were day scholars, and one a girl), the MA English students (mostly girls, including the daughter of the then Vice Chancellor) and the Journalism Students. The Campus was also a breeding ground for the ultra left political philosophy, who thought TV a luxury and a bourgeois conspiracy.

We approached our Warden, who was a Psychology Professor and our Organizational Behaviour faculty with a representation to provide the hostel common room with a TV. He flatly refused citing non availability of funds. In typical MBA students style, we never gave up and pestered him day and night. Fed up, he gave what he thought was an impossible solution - raise half the amount for a TV and I will get the University contribute the other half. We were aghast and cried foul. Half the amount was Rs 4000, which is equal to four times the entry salary for a MBA fresh recruit. He was adamant and smirked, confident we will never be able to raise Rs 4000, in two weeks time leading to the World Cup.

We went on a fund drive @ Rs 20 per head. Remember that Rs 20 was a princely sum those days. And the social objective students, who had government subsidy flatly refused to contribute. The ultra left went on a counter offensive. They labelled MBA students, us, Capitalistic evil. But we persisted, begged, cajoled, threatened - but raised Rs 4000 by the 9th day. A major success for our tenacity and management skills.

The warden was shocked when we dumped Rs 4000 on  is table, a collection of Rs 10, Rs 5, Rs 2, Re 1 notes. And he didnt know what to do, as he just did not have the other Rs 4000 fund. We were devastated and were downcast in our Department Reading Room, when our Head of the Department, a Syndicate Member, walked by and asked us the reason. He listened to us and asked us to join him with the money collected. He marched us to the Vice Chancellor's house, and asked us to recount our story. Then our HOD used his considerable persuasive skills, and political power to get approval of another Rs 4000 from the VC.

The TV, showing only Doordarshan, was installed with much fanfare before the opening match. The matches were held in Mexico, and the first match was at 11.15 pm in the night, ending at 1 am. The second match commencing at 3.15 am to end at 5 am.

Our routine was something like this. Have dinner at 8 pm. Play Cards in Francis's room till 11.10 pm. Continue the Rummy after the first match, till 3.10 and then off to bed with bleary eyes at 5 am (It is another matter that the hall was packed during the matches, with even the ultra left students sneaking behind after the lights are switched off to watch the match. This gave us immense satisfaction. We, of course, sat on the front row - as a privilege for bringing the TV to the hostel). By 8.30 am, we are all in the Reading Room of the Department, with heated discussions about the previous days matches and the prognosis for that days matches. It was a terrific experience, what if it adversely affected our studies and health. We were rewarded with the glorious spectacle of Diego Maradonna at his best, the wonderfully talented Danish team that was so tragically beaten in the second round, the attractive Brazil, the ruthless Germany who kept on coming back. So many wonderful players - Maradonna, Rumeniegge, Zico, Socrates, Careca, Scifo,  Blanco, Butrageno the vulture, Michael Laudrup, Larsen, Platini, Mathaus, Linekar.

And we were close to the soccer crazy Calicut City. If you walk in the City, you could hear nothing other than people discussing football during those 40 odd days. Calicut is a city that rarely sleeps, being a transit town. But during the World cup, the streets were empty and one could only hear the sound of the crowd and commentary that emanated out of TV, wherever one walked in the night.

So many wonderful memories. An unforgettable experience for more reasons than one.

2 anna syndrome

The Indian Rupee was once divided into 16 Annas, with today's 50 paise equal to 8 annas.

Though we got Independence 63 years ago and Anna gave way to Paise, it is easy to equate my MBA Student's mindset in Anna terms.

I call it the Two Anna Syndrome, or 1/8th of a Rupee Syndrome (The 2 annas were in existence till 1957 and is depicted in the picture).

Only half of my students (i.e; 8 annas, assuming 1 Rupee to be the whole) believe or take seriously my advice given during the orientation program and during the first semesters as to how to go about a MBA program, the need to read extensively, to take the assignments seriously, not to miss an opportunity to develop soft skills, to focus on applications of theory in practice and to write the examinations in the first attempt.

Out of that half, a further half ( i.e; 4 annas, half of 8 annas) actually makes an effort to try and put that into practice some way or other.

Only a further half of those (i.e; 2 annas, half of 4 annas or 1/8th of a rupee) who try to implement my advice sustain it till the end of the program, the balance dropping it mid way through.

Thus, in a class of 24, 12 listen to me, 6 try and follow the advice initially and only 3 sustain it.

Here is to those 2 anna students!!!

Thank You!

A Teacher's life is thankless at times. One never knows whether the effort put into moulding a generation of young students is worth it or not.

Over a teaching period of a decade, one gets used to ungratefulness from students. As happened recently. A MBA student who was coming over to collect his hall ticket, called up another student to check up whether I was in the Study Centre. He was apparently relieved when the answer was in the negative, for it appears he wanted to avoid meeting me for some strange reason. And, to think that, this student was one of the few who had spent hours in my house over a two year period and had even rung me up at odd hours seeking advice on professional matters.

But today, I was in for a very pleasant, unexpected surprise. I was sitting outside the Examination Hall, when a young muslim girl wearing abhayah came out, having finished her final year Bachelor's examination. I vaguely remembered the face, for I dont teach Bachelor's Students. She collected her books, looked at me and there was a moment of indecision on her face. She hesitated, but gathered courage, walked up to me. I looked up from where I was sitting. She asked;

"Sir, were you the person who took the first class for us when we joined?"

I remembered when I had seen her. I had taken the Orientation Program for her batch of Bachelor' Students in October 2007.

"Yes, I did take the Orientation Program for you when we were operating in the Fisheries Building", I replied

"Sir, I still remember one advice you gave that day - 'Whatever happens, write the exams in the first attempt and never absent yourself from the examination and you will be a graduate' - Sir, I have followed that advice to date and am grateful to you"

Taken aback slightly that a student took the pains to come up to me and thank me for the one small advice I gave all those years back, I felt a lump in my throat and said,

"I hope you have cleared all your First year and Second year papers so far"

"Yes sir, I have and I will complete the final year now god willing. Thank you sir", and she departed as dignified as she approached me.

A simple thank you for a small advice given years ago. It made my day. I felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

It also taught me a lesson - that I should say thank you more often to people who have helped me all these years on many varied occassions. I should never take them for granted.

Thank you, young woman,  for teaching me a simple lesson.

30 years and 30 seconds

Pablo Picasso ( 1881 -1973) was a great Painter and a Sculptor.

One day, a woman spotted him in the market and pulled out a piece of paper.


"Mr Picasso," she said excitedly, "I'm a big fan. Please, could you do a little drawing for me?"


Picasso complied and quickly etched out a piece of art for her on the paper provided.


He smiled as he handed it back to her, and said, "That will be a million dollars."


"But Mr Picasso," the flustered woman replied, "it took you only 30 seconds to do this little masterpiece."


"My good woman," Picasso laughed, "it took me 30 years to do that masterpiece in 30 seconds."

My mood these days

"Velicham dukhamanunni, Thamassallo sukhapradam"

Loose translation - "Child, light denotes sadness, it is darkness that gives comfort"

Gordian Knot

In ancient Macedonia thinking was much the same as it is today. Little kingdoms fought bitterly for their lands. Pretenders rose and fell. No one had vision. None had a plan. All was struggle. Except for one–one gained his rule easily.

He was Midas, the poor homeowner. Day by day Midas struggled just to get by. Each day was a "challenge" for Midas. He lived in a marshy area of Asia Minor then called Phrygia. Lore has it that years of civil unrest and aimless wandering of the Phrygians had led the elders to call a meeting of the high council to decide which warring faction would rule next. An ancient oracle had foretold that a man with a waggon would eventually come and end their constant quarreling. Midas wandered into town with his ox-cart while the high council met, discussing the oracle’s prediction. The oracle’s prediction had come true. Midas was appointed king.

As a reminder of his good fortune, to thank the gods for his rule, and to celebrate the end of aimless wandering for the Phrygians, Midas erected a shrine and dedicated his waggon to Zeus. Instead of being yoked to an ox, Midas placed his waggon in the center of the acropolis yoked to a pole with a large knot. Curiously, the knot was an intricate and complex Turkish knot, having no ends exposed. Hundreds of tightly interwoven thongs of cornel-bark made the knot an impressive centerpiece for the shrine. There it remained as an important symbol for the Phrygians.

Month after month the bark hardened, and stories grew up around the shrine. It was eventually moved and housed near the temple of Zeus Basileus in an ancient city called Gordium, ruled by Midas’ father Gordius. Gordius, being the proud father that he was, encouraged the lore about his son’s now famous shrine. People speculated as to its purpose. Most regarded it as a curious puzzle. Eventually, an oracle foretold that whoever loosed the Gordian Knot would lord over the whole of Asia. The lore grew and grew.

Over the years people living near Gordium looked upon their puzzle relic with great pride. It became quite a tourist attraction and generated lots of revenue for local business. Residents considered it the duty of every wanderer to visit their shrine and attempt to solve their puzzle. They regarded it as extremely unlucky for visitors to leave their city without trying to loose the knot.

No one knows how many visitors attempted the puzzle of the Gordian Knot. One thing is certain. Only one man solved it. We know him as Alexander The Great. He did go on to conquer the world and rule all of Asia. Alexander considered his victory over the Gordian Knot the most decisive battle he ever fought.

We come across many gordian knots in our life, both personal and professional. And we do most of time believe that these knots cannot be solved. But remember, if you think and act like Alexander the Great, you can. That should be ones aim in life

Supremacy or Popularity?

People, especially in Kuwait, always talks about the lack of gratitude of someone whom they have helped in their life. They have nothing but bitter stories to tell about how the beneficiary turned his back once he has got what he wanted.

I too have had my share of experiences. Why are people like this?

We need to understand two things. No man can ever forgive his protector. And there is no loathing a man harbours more intense than that towards his benefactor.

People dont like to be indebted to someone. It reminds them of an unsavoury past they are trying to forget.

It is the strong, intelligent, powerful and the rich who are always hated. If you are weak, you would not be hated. If you are poor you would not be hated. You are not hated despite your strength, intelligence, power or wealth; you are hated BECAUSE of your strength, intelligence, power and wealth. One can have supremacy or popularity, but never both.

The BUJEE!!!

In our times, we called them 'Bujees', short for Buddhi Jeevees, or an intellectual person. This word is always used in a tone of respect, envy and quite a lot of sarcasm. A more apt translation would be 'Intellectual Asshole' (IA).

Let us stick to the term IA. Now, what are the traits of a IA. Well, he (don't know why, this is always a 'He' and not a 'She'. I am not implying for a moment that there are none in the fairer sex, it is just that I have not come across many) will have to be a dreamer, reader, thinker, opinionated, well educated, sporting a beard (beard and intelligence are somehow associated) that he stokes regularly while thinking, generally reticent as the IA is not supposed to speak much, will have a serious disposition to life (meaning he won't joke or be frivolous) , a rebel by nature and as such a misfit and generally to make a long story short, a pain in the ass. Quite a few of them will be smokers, drinkers and drug addicted though there are exceptions. The IA should never give a straight answer and have to use as much complex words which no one understands as possible.

Now, how do one attain the IA status? Well, I can say that you don't get it that easily. You really have to work for it diligently. Years of reading, forming opinions, opposing others viewpoint, thinking out of the box (whether the solutions are practical or not) and regular practice will make you eligible for this title. You should also express your opinion on every topic under the sun, whether you know or not, at every single given opportunity. It helps if you really have a core competency in one area, but definitely you should have more than passable knowledge on other areas.

Once you are an Acknowledged IA, life changes dramatically. Every one (poor ordinary folks, friends and foe alike) turns to you for opinion on divergent issues. Some examples of the questions are given below with the IA's probable responses,

"I am married for the last 4 years, but have no children. What should I do?" - and this to a IA who is a bachelor!!!.

The IA stokes his beard, goes in deep thought and when the other guy is bored to death says slowly, "Well, there are many solutions. You can go for Artificial insemination, adopt a child, rent a womb if your wife has a problem that prevents her from conceiving or introduce a neighbour to your wife if the problem is with you. By the way, when was the last time both of you had a check up with the doctor together?"

"How can we? I am in Kuwait and she is in India, and I have not visited her for 4 years"

IA is deeper in thought now, "Umm ........... that could be a real problem. Now let me see what I can do about it. I am travelling next month .........................."

Another case,

IA gets a call " Can you give me the reference book for Consumer Behaviour?"

IA doesn't have a clue. But with Google, he has is more effective. He goes to Amazon.com and types CB in the search column and gets a list of books. Now he is ready,

"I would recommend you to read Schiffman. It is a good book were the concepts are juxtaposed in a logical manner to enable comprehensive transfer of thoughts and ideas about the behavioural aspects of consumers with respect to their predispositions towards products and services. It is especially noteworthy for.................................................................... "

Here is another one,

"What do you think will be the reason for monsoon failure and its impact on Indian Economy?"

"The vagaries of monsoon has always been a source of mystery to the mankind. Scientists have been working on a reasonably acceptable model for predicting the monsoon with an acceptable confidence level. The reason monsoon failed could be just that the El nino factor in the south pacific ( remember he doesnt have the faintest of idea what this is) did not form as it should be. It is also possible that there just were not enough rain clouds over India. And it could also be due to Congress returning to power and the Gods wanted to punish the Indians for re-electing Manmohan Singh. Now the impact could be the GDP not growing at the anticipated rate of 6%. We may end up a growth of 4.873467890213%. Since the global economy is in recession, we may find it difficult to import food and as such may have to pay higher prices leading to a cut in the defence outlay that can adversely affect our level of preparedness to counter any cross border adventure by our arch rivals Pakistan who is internally disintegrating due to the US drone attack on the NW frontier that has caused considerable resentment in Pakistan which worries the Obama Administration who might attack Nicaragua to divert the attention of the American population from their military failures in Afghanistan, where Karzai might win a rigged election which has long term geo political implications for the region................................................. "

Let me take a break from my writing my autobiography :)

Optimize your time

On friday I had called a prospective candidate for a Managerial post to my house to give him a feedback on his employment interview. The meeting was to be in my house due to the delicate nature of this recruitment that called for discretion due to the sensitive relationship we have with his current employers. It is to be said that we know each other fairly well professionally.

I called him up at 6 pm and asked him to come over. He said he can make it only at 6.45 pm as he had to pick his wife. I said fine. I have a bad habit. When people tell me that they will come at a particular time, I wait for them and get irritated if they dont turn up. I started getting jittery and twice picked up the phone to give him a piece of my mind. Finally, he turned up at 7.10 pm, a full 25 minutes late and gave me the routine excuse of getting stuck up in traffic (on a friday evening?). I didnt say much other that "Punctuality is a way of life. Either you have it or you don't. You have a right to do whatever you want to do with YOUR TIME but you have NO RIGHT to WASTE THE OTHER PERSONS TIME".

A very tardy person to begin with, I have made an effort to change and am rarely late these days. How do I do this? Simple. I don't cram my schedule. For example, on those days I have an IGNOU Class, I dont agree for any meetings between 5 pm and 9.15 pm, eventhough the class is between 6.30 pm and 8.30 pm. Though people might be offended initially when I turn downt their request, in the long run they tend to fall in line and start appreciating you.

So how do you go about if you are tardy.

One solution may be to do less, but Murphy's truism "Tasks always expand to fill the time allotted" ensures that you will only get less done in more time! Another solution is to use organizational tools that help you to work more efficiently. Though we can't make more time (there are only 24 hours in a day), we can make ourselves more effective.

Remember, always Commit less and Do more. This will thrill the customer, both internal and external.

How my hobbies helped me in my Career - 4

A hobby I picked late in my life was Cooking. Though I was quite comfortable making tea and coffee for self till I was 36, cooking a meal was beyond me. I took up the task of becoming a decent cook on my 36th birthday and gave a timespan of 4 years to achieve the objective.

There was a brahmin lady called Meenakshi Ammal who became a widow at a young age. She was a wonderful cook. In mid 1950s her nieces and grand nieces got married and set up nucleus families. They used to pester Meenakshmi ammal for recipes. Though cooking came naturally to her, she could not create recipes. She tried out each of the dishes, made careful note of the quantities used and then mailed it in inland letters to her nieces. Much later a relative of hers collected all these recipes and went around trying to find a publisher. He succeeded after 2 years. Thus was born the legendary cook book Samaithu Par'. This book is in 3 volumes and is the most authentic book on Tamil Brahmin Vegetarian Cooking. Millions of copies have been sold since. It has also been translated to other Regional Languages and English. You can get more details here http://www.meenakshiammal.com/.

To cut a long story short, this book was my single point reference. Initially I stuck to the quantities mentioned and later on I started improvising on my own. Like many other things in my life, I put my heart and soul into it and developed a passion for cooking.

Cooking, to me, is a very creative art. If one were to look at it as a chore, then one would never become a good cook. One needs to have a passion for it and should clearly enjoy cooking. 9 years on, I can safely say that I am more than a pretty decent cook.

Unlike all the other hobbies which are more self centred - be it reading, music, sports, photography, crosswords or astrology - cooking is extremely other person centred. This is the distinction. As a cook you get your reward when you see the happiness and contentment in another persons face on eating the dishes prepared by you. Cooking is all about giving. Understanding the taste preferences of others and meeting it. And it is a personal gesture. No amount of food purchased from hotels and served to a guest can compensate for the personal effort that goes into making a dish. It is a way of telling I honour you and am prepared to go that extra distance to make you happy. And this is highly appreciated by the guest. Our culture is made famous by the statement 'Adhithi Devo Bhava' and offering tasty food cooked by oneself is our way of realizing this.

More than anything else, cooking contributed a lot to making me a more open, understanding person and less self centred. Cooking is all about giving and this is one trait that always comes in handy in one's professional life.

In a world infested with 'takers', a 'giver' stands apart

How my hobbies helped me in my Career - 3

Music was in the air in the house when I was a child. Mother had learned Classical music and Veena, as most Brahmin girls of those age did, before she got married. Life was a struggle for a Bombay born girl to move to Radhapuram in Tamil Nadu, which did not even have a proper toilet or electricity in 1954. She was just 18 and never pursued her music. She blamed father for not encouraging her, but father's version is that she couldn't take his well meaning criticism and sulked, leading ultimately to her Veena gathering dust. When my sister, who is 4 years elder to me, was into her teens, she was taught Veena. In fact she studied Veena for 8 long years. Neither was she interested nor was her mercenary Veena Master. For him, who was a lecturer in the music college, taking music lessons twice a week was a livelihood rather than a passion. Sister got married when she was 22 and never even looked at her Veena. This was more like our school college studies which we forget the moment the examinations are over.

Father wanted me to learn Mridangam, a percussion instrument. But the young boy had other ideas, for he wanted to be the next Sunil Gavaskar. The 1970's was the golden period of Malayalam film songs and the 1980s that of Tamil Film songs. In addition, one was able to listen to the soulful singing of Mohammed Rafi through Binaca Geetmala, broadcasted by Ceylon Radio. Radio was the major source of music. Record players, tape recorder came much later. Brother was the only person interested in Western Music, and the only Western music I liked was ABBA. Palghat Music Sabha organized one concert per month and parents were regular to the concerts. Though mother learned music systemmatically, father had better 'Jnanam' (Knowledge). His phenomenal memory helped him to remember ragas and recall later. I used to skip the first 2 hours of the concert and will walk in only for the last half an hour when 'thukkadas' (or smaller compositions) were sung. They were not heavy classically and it appealed to a teenager.

I finished my graduation and joined MBA, and carried with me a transistor radio which had both MW and SW (there were no FM stations those days). The nearest Radio Station was Kozhikode, which had a reputation for programs of highest quality. Many illustrious literary giants worked in Kozhikode Radio Station and they left a vibrant culture and a rich legacy. One day, I happened to go to a Madurai T N Seshagopalan Concert in Thali in Calicut. The intention was to leave the concert hall after half an hour. But I was rooted to my seat on the floor by Seshagopalans virtuosity. 4 times during the concert, I felt hair standing up on my arm as the music took me to a different world. I became a convert there and then. With a hard nosed determination which I thought I never had ( I was an easy going person and still is) I started listening to Carnatic music programs in either Kozhikkode or Madras radio stations or even AIR Banglore. There were concerts, music lessons and other music related programs. I used to read the Radio program column first thing in the morning and note down the station and the time of the program. It was an amazing 2 years, during which I was exposed to the genius of the Maestros from Chembai to MD Ramanathan to Ariyakkudi to DK Pattammal to Maali to Sheikh Chinnamoulana to Lalgudi to TN Krishnan to Chitti babu to TN Seshagopalan to the child prodigies U Srinivas, N Ravikiran and Gayathri. I had the privilege of listening to some wonderful concerts in Delhi during winter when I went to visit my brother. By the time I got my MBA Degree, I had also become very proficient in Carnatic music and was able to identify more than 120 ragas. Of course, I had a ready reference source in father, whenever I came home. But I must have listened to hundreds and hundreds of concerts on radio.

My ability to appreciate carnatic music went to a different level when I joined HPCL and we were posted in Chennai for the first 5 months. Chennai is the home of Carnatic Music. There are numerous sabhas who organized concerts of leading musicians round the year. I lived in a lodge in Mount Road which was well connected by bus to all concert halls. I had also suffered a crippling back injury while playing Shuttle Badminton and was in severe pain. Music was a way out for me as I was told that I may never play again in my life, a real blow to a sports mad youngster. I made it a point to sit through at least 5 concerts in a week and by the time I left Chennai, I had listened to most of the masters at least twice. It was a terrific learning experience.

I had continued my passion for music since then. A stint in Thanjavur, in the Kaveri Basin, the agraharams on whose Banks gave the music world most of its legends and proximity to Thiruvaiyaru where Saint Tyagaraja, the legendary composer, lived provided the right atmosphere to built on the hobby.

I never learned Carnatic Music, one of my two biggest regrets in life, the other being not studying Sanskrit. But I am grateful to God for giving me the gift to appreciate music, which I assume is in my blood.

How did it help in my career? Well, this was one hobby I persevered for years and developed through sheer hard work. I made gains inch by inch. At times it was tough. I even went through a period of music fatigue. But I was tenacious. I had to be bloody minded to attain a basic level of musical knowledge. As I said before, I was very laidback and many things came to me without much effort, including studies. But for the first time in my life, I slogged and I was convinced that if one had the passion, purpose of mind and perseverence one can achieve anything in life. This was a learning and came in handy much later in my career. Whenever I am at a disadvantage professionally or personally, I push my chin forward, tighten my belt, flex my muscles and prepare myself for the long bloody haul, for I am very sure that I will get there in the end, as I did with my pursuit of music.

Also, Carnatic music, unlike its north Indian counterpart, is very structured. At the same time it gives ample scope for 'manodharma' (individual creativity). But creativity and improvisation is of no use unless one has a solid foundation of the basics. This became my motto in life. Learn the basics, prepare a solid foundation, stick to it and THEN improvise or let go your complete creativity. The resultant feeling is one of pure bliss.

How my hobbies helped me in my Career - 2

Continuing my previous post on hobbies, looking back, Crosswords helped me analyze, think, rack my brain and identify the ideal solutions.

My father initiated this hobby. Though we share many interests, some of the family members were also interested in other hobbies we shared like Reading, Music, Sports. Mother was interested in Music, brother and sister in Reading, and brother again in Sports. Photography was my exclusive domain for you can't expect three Capricornians and one Taurus to have any kind of aesthetic sense. Crossword was where the minds of my father and me were in sync. He would get hold of the paper first in the morning. Since he had a photographic memory which would enable him to recollect a clue that has been once seen by him ( Phenomenal memory he had!!), he will write 12 of the 30 odd clues within no time. But his mind was logical and sequential, while I had and still have a beautiful right brain. The complex clues were my domain, whereas I get bored with routine clues and had no interest in them. He grudgingly accepted my competence in this area and appreciated my ability to find bizarre solutions to cryptic clues. Together we cracked the Hindu Crossword in an hour or so everyday. Crosswords improved my vocabulary and spelling tremendously. I started on crosswords way back in 1980s and has been doing it for nearly 3 decades now, though I lost a bit of interest on my fathers demise. Since the words were always associated with a clue, the learning was quick and efficient. Each clue presented a problem that had only one solution, the ideal one. One has to be tenacious to get that one solution. Jogging your memory, refering Thesaurus and cross checking with Dictioneries, every day started with a mini research. We would never rest till we found the solution to a clue. We threw back and forth various options and the mind worked like a Intel processor searching databases stored in the recess of the mind for any spark. And the euphoria in getting the right word meant we had a cause for celebration. One always needs small victories everyday to keep going. Needless to say Crosswords expanded the cubic capacity of the brain, made it active, fostered a spirit of quest and the need to accomplish a task begun (an incomplete crossword is very very irritating). All these skills prepared me to tackle the Knowledge Economy towards which we are progressing

How my hobbies helped me in my Career - 1

I have many interests in life. Each one of my interests/hobbies has given me an important trait or skill that has stood me in good stead in my life.

Take reading. I was blessed to have been brought up in an era and in a household that encouraged reading. I had read most of the classics by the time I was 15. There was no discrimination for I enjoyed Ivanhoe as much as I relished O V Vijayan's 'Khasakkinte Ithihasam'. The Somerset Maughm or O Henry stories juxtaposed between select stories of Thakazhi or Muttathu Varki. Odyssey and Rendamoozham both kindled my imagination in similar manner. I had equal facility in Ramayana and Mahabharatha. 1001 Arabian nights, Panchathantram, Aesops Fables, Grimms stories, Kathasarithsagaram all held me spell bound. As did the indepth novels of Arthur Hailey and Leon Uris. For an introverted boy in rural Kerala in 1970s, this was the way he understood the world beyond Palghat. The chance for interaction with the world beyond the sleepy Palghat was limited. Each novel, each story had many protagonists, many situations, how people reacted to situations, what leadership was all about and how devious people can be. It also helped to improve my language - I am fluent in both Malayalam and English. I had my initial education in Malayalam Medium and though I shifted to English Medium in Standard V, the school being a Government run one, I had to learn the English language on my own. In fact, I dare not speak in Public in English till I was well into my MBA. I must have read most of those books at least 10 times at various stages in my life and each time I learned something new, and am able to look at the book from an entirely different angle. For example, as a child I was thrilled at the story telling ability of Valmiki in Ramayana. But much later in life, I was able to read Ramayana with a detachment and with a critical mind whereby I looked for rights and wrongs, management wignets and the philosophical moorings. The reading gave me the ability to analyze a situation in depth, and look for out of the box solutions, a skill that I exploited to the hilt in my later stages of career as an Analyst. The story telling aspect of a novel had such a profound impression on me that I adopted it as the base when I am teaching Management.

Another hobby I picked up early in life was Photography. I am one of the few who started his photographic career in the B&W era and later migrated to Colour. More about that in another blog. The trick with photography is that your subconscious mind is always looking for an exception in the normal scenario. Normal scenes are no good for photography. It is always the strange colours, uneven lighting, rare people, unseen expressions, uncommon scenes that a photographer looks out for. And one has to be always on the look out for it. This skill developed over a period of time, along with my inborn sense of humour has gone a long way in looking at the quirks of the people and the situaion in a different way. Also, when you are a photographer, you have to look at the total frame, and have a wholistic outlook. It is a pure right brained activity. One has to not only look at a potential frame with ones eyes but one also has to use one's internal eyes (Aka kannu) to get the maximum effect. Thus was born another skill which helps me create visions for the Companies as a Strategic Planner ........... to be continued

A lump in the throat, a tear in the eye and a mood of melancholy

Today happens to be a very private one for remembrance.

A day I lost a part of my life 5 years ago - My father.

He would have appreciated this blog where he to be alive and would have been a vociferous critic of it too. He always set the bar very high for me, though he was baffled why I was not ambitious as he was. My laidback attitude was in complete contrast to his relentless drive towards success.

How a sensitive, art loving, fragile and dreamy Pisces son and a bull headed, hard nosed, practical and down to earth Taurus father ever got along so famously is a mystery by itself. Maybe the opposites attract and gel well.

There are lots of him in me and I suspect towards the end of his life there were a lot of me in him too.

I imbibed lot of hobbies from him - reading, music, astrology, a love for sports and crosswords.

I did my duty as a son to him and more while he was alive, and as he used to say, he had a great innings before he decided to get out.

So there should not be any cause for sadness on his 5th death anniversary.

Then why do I have a lump in the throat, a tear in the eye and a mood of melancholy on this day?

My Dear Herbie

Though we were totally 3 siblings- brother, sister and me, the youngest- we always considered ourself 4 in the family, the fourth being our dear dear Volkswagon Beetle Car.

The Bug was such a part of my growing up that I cannot even imagine it is no longer in the family. The car was lemon green in colour with a air cooled rear engine. It was a 1960 model with a nice number KLD 7525. We bought it from Dr.Raghavan in Vadakara in 1972, when father got a promotion and was about to leave Vadakara. Prior to our buying it, we had seen the gleaming car with chrome plated bumpers taking Dr.Raghavan around on his house calls in Vadakara. In the days of Ambassadors, Fiat and Standard Herald the VW was a traffic stopper. For the childless Dr.Raghavan, the VW was as close to a child as he ever had. He bought a 1966 model VW and suddenly the dream car was available for sale. Father had to use up his entire savings of 17 years - Rs 17,000, a princely sum those days for a 12 year old car.

It was our first car and for a 8 year old boy, it was the high point of his life. I can still vividly remember the long journey from Vadakara to Palakkad as also the attention it drew when father took me to enrol in the school. The VW remained only one of its type in Palakkad for more than a quarter of a century. Most of the people of that period knew my father, who was the Executive Engineer in the Electricity Board, or even me, but even if they cant remember either of us, all we had to do even today is to mention our VW and their face will lit up.

Maybe I tasted the benefit of being different from my VW. The car, made famous by the movie in which it is the main protagonist called HERBIE, was instantly recognisable from a distance or even from the sound emitted by the more noisy air cooled engine. From 1972 to 1978, my job was limited to sitting on the right hand side seat (it was a left hand drive car) and shifting the gear rod when father pressed the clutch. That was my initiation to driving. I longed to drive the car and envied my brother who was 8 years elder to me and who drove it around with ease. Being an old car, it had its own share of breakdowns and prolonged spell in the Workshop where Ramachandran mama fondly molly coddled it back to the road. Mama, who owned the workshop, genuinely loved our VW and used to welcome it like a prodigal son whenever it made its customery visit to his garage.

It was the summer vacation of 1978. I had just finished my 9th standard when I was travelling on the Chittur - Kozhinjampara road with my father on the wheel. The road is sparesely travelled but ran through some of the most beautiful paddy fields you can see. But it was summer time and paddy fields were barren. The heat was oppressive as it was around 3 pm on a April afternoon. Suddenly father pulled over and asked me casually 'Is your leg long enough to press the clutch fully?'. He had watched me play around with the stationary car behind the steering wheel the past few days. I said 'Yes, almost'. " Good, then come over and sit on the drivers seat". So saying he opened the door and casually walked to the passenger side. I slipped behind the wheel. He got in, and said only this " Drive". Remember, it was an open road, not even a ground and I had never tried driving in my life. I was a puny 38 kg lean boy of 14. I didnt need a second invitation. This was what I have been waiting for the past 6 years. I put the car in the neutral, started it, pushed the clutch, shifted to first and released the clutch as if I had done this all my life. The car started with a jerk and then stabilized, with the wheel a little wobbly. Since the Engine was in the rear, the steering of a VW Beetle was very very light, even lighter than a power steering. I still dont know how I did it nor do I understand the confidence (foolishness) of my father, but it was as if I had been driving it for ages. The car felt so much an extention of me that first time, and since.

I drove without licence for 4 years, taking father around most of the days in his official duty after coming back from the school in the afternoon. Everyone knew I was driving without a licence but no one cared those days as father was well known. And 'Swamy's son basked in his reputation. Since that day in mid april, I was the charioter to my father. We must have driven more than one lakh kilometers together. He, always sitting on my side , with his hand loosely over my backrest. If I am slighly careless in driving, he will gently press my shoulder with his fingers. That was my signal to buck up. We discussed everything under the sun on those drives - from politics, to sports, to career, to books , to family issues, to abortion to gossips to advice. The VW was a mute spectator to the unique bonding the father and son had. I am sure without the VW and all those kilometers on the road, we would never have become so close.

When I turned 18, I applied for a Driving Licence. Father had a word with MVI Chandrasekharan Nair. He called a AMVI and asked him to take the test of me. The AMVI, a short dark guy, was pissed off as he just didnt like the fact that I had come with a wasta. He gruffly asked, 'Which is your car?". When I pointed to the VW, his eyes lit up. He jumped into the passenger seat and asked me to take off. He made me drive 25 kilometers all the while crooning about the car. When we returned he remarked 'Ha! I always wanted to travel in that car'. Then with a flourish he signed my license papers, not even bothering to check if I could drive a two wheeler properly, for he was supposed to take the test for both.

I created an uproar in Victoria College when I took the car while in my Pre Degree 2nd year (+2). Those days only 3 of us had a scooter or a bike, and forget car. You can imagine what my feelings were taking a foreign car to a mixed college having 2000 girl students.

The Car had many nicknames coined by onlookers. It was called 'mootapoochi' meaning 'Bug', the locals called it 'Aama Car' meaning the tortoise and to the next generation in our family it was just the 'Thatha Car' - 'Grand fathers car.

By 1984, I moved out of Palakkad and the VW also started feeling its age. Ramachandran mama died and his son did not have the passion to find ingenious solutions to the problem like mama had. Getting spare parts became a problem. Once I travelled 48 hours to Delhi to have an armature rewound. As years rolled on, father retired, and with me moving out, the VW also slowly entered the retirement phase. It spent more days in the house car-shed than on the road. Father reduced his driving after he had a heart attack. For some bizarre reason father had the car repainted dark blue, and for once he didnt consult me. I was aghast at the change and could never accept it. It was as if a part of me had broken off forever. Maybe the Car also didnt like it. The next 3 years, it was idling in the porch before one of my cousins, who was a leading truck operator, took a liking to it and asked father to sell it to him. We could never bear to sell the car. Since the boy was so eager to have it, father gave it to him as a gift. It was lifted to one of their trucks and was shipped to Mumbai over road. I never saw my beloved car again.

Since then I had the fortune of owning so many cars - Ambassadaor, Tata Estate, Maruti 800, Lancer, Mazda, Dodge, Grand Marquis and GMC Envoy. But I never had a sentimental attachment to any one of them like I had for my dear Beetle.

Maybe father knew, for within a year of the Car leaving our house, he breathed his last. It was a double whammy. It was as if a huge part of me was torn away from me, leaving fond memories that evoke a small pain in the corner of the heart once in a while.

Samaya Daanam

One day a person was walking on the streets of Bandar, a small town in Andhra Pradesh. One look at him showed that he was a man of integrity.

He suddenly heard a boy weeping. On queried the boy told “My father died recently. We are three brothers and our Mother is jobless. I am the eldest of the children. I dont know how to feed my family as we are very poor”.

The person thought for a while; he wanted to help the young boy somehow. He said “come with me” and took him to the local Bank. He convinced the Manager to to train the boy on some useful work in the Bank. The boy turned out to be quite diligent. Since the Bank Manager refused to give salary during the training, the person gave money to the boy from his own pocket for two months. The Bank employed him in the third month on finding him quite suitable and the boy thus had a steady salary.

The person who helped the boy was none other than “Dr. Bhogaraaju Pattaabhi Seetaaraamayya“, a great freedom fighter. Though Seetaaraamayya could have just given the boy some money and consoled him, as most of us will do normally, he didnt choose to do that. Instead he spent his valuable time, the boy for two months after he has worked hard, made the boy learn to stand on his own legs and did true help to the poor family. The wise always said that “Samaya Daanam” is the greatest Daanam.

As Confusius said, "Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime"