A maestro moves on…

Santoor Artiste R Vishweshwaran passed away late night/early morning hours June 28/29…

I had the privilege of being acquainted with him, and was in the audience when he received the title “Kalaimamani” last year. He came on to stage accompanied by his artiste wife Chitra Vishweshwaran. They made such a great couple.

Vishweshwaran was GNB’s nephew and a “complete” musician in his own right. He was at ease with Western Classical, Flamenco, Carnatic and Hindustani music.He has played fusion / jugalbandhi music with artistes from across the world.

He learnt Santoor from Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, whom he revered as an ‘avatara purusha’.

RD Burman introduced him to the world of Hindi film music. He has played for Rajesh Roshan, Lakshmikant Pyarelal. He has played for the great Tamil music director MS Vishwanathan. He loved Mozart, Wagner, Beethoven, Tchaikowsky…He said that one of his proudest moments was when when R D Burman introduced him to Asha Bhonsle as ‘the best guitarist in India”.  

Yes, he was a consummate artiste.

My memory of Vishweshwaran is of a person who was always smiling, joking, spreading cheer in a generally serious world.

A good man has gone. The world will miss him.

Swami and friends in USA

Friend of mine from You-Ess sent me an invite to attend a couple of talks in Chennai.

Both by Sree Srinivasan - “an educator, technology expert, freelance journalist and seasoned observer of Indo-US relations” and named by Newsweek, in 2004, as one of the “20 most influential South Asians in the United States”. He is also the co-founder of “SAJA, the South Asian Journalists Association, a group of 1,000+ journalists across the US and Canada”.

Interesting CV that.

The first talk was on “Studying in United States - A practical guide”, and was held, rather appropriately, I thought, at the “Stenographers Guild” - (behind Siva Vishnu Temple and near T Nagar Bus terminus, T Nagar, Chennai 17…). Takes me right back to Malgudi…

That was during the day. I couldnt attend that.

The second talk was on “Desis Changing America: Indian-Americans and Their Impact on US Business, Politics and Culture” and held, rather appropriately, again, at Hotel Raintree - one of the new, upmarket hotels of the city. They have a reclining Buddha, looking through the fountain spray, at the hotel lobby. Buddha smiles…

This talk was in the evening - and so one managed to get off from the desktop and reach the “Chamiers” conference hall, Hotel Raintree, pm Five Thirty.

A cosy, compact sort of ambience. A podium with a table and four name plates. A table at the other end with the beginnings of “tea and tiffin”. An audience of fifty or so, hair mostly grey…

The audience was All-Indian in color, but the accent from the louder conversations was All-American. And snatches of stuff that met one’s pinna included phrases like - “unless she’s divorced him…”, “exactly right” - I think Americans say that when they agree with a person - and quite some about the big American ship that was to come in to Chennai.

The talk was good. Very good.

Sree has a nice, unhurried sort of delivery. He traced out how things have changed the last few decades…how Indians are doing well not just in Medical and Engineering professions…He dwelt some on the journalist profession in US, and named quite a few Indians who are read, listened to, seen with lot of respect…He talked of the new Indian influence in US Politics…How they have come a long way from the time they used to spend a thousand dollars on a fund raiser just so that they could get their picture taken with a Senator…He talked of literature, and the growing presence of Indian writers (the new brooklyn gangs), Indian publishers (the one who brought out Bill Clinton’s memoirs), Indian Film makers (”you must see ‘Namesake’, he urged)…He talked of how it was no longer a one way street…how US journalist students are coming to India, how US MBA students want India in their CV…He talked of Pepsico’s you-know-who…He talked of the new Immigration bill and the interesting conflict among US-Indians about that…

He had depth, he had wit, he had humility. He’s good.

He was Indian enough to introduce his father-in-law and Uncle who were in the audience. Apparently his wife is an Arjuna Award winner for rifle shooting, his father in law is an ex Police officer, and his mother in law is handy with a pistol…Bang-bang-bang! I guess you need that kind of orientation to be an honest South Asian journalist!

He ended his talk with a light comment on “missed call technology” invented in India. And also about the Big-American ship, of course. Apparently six thousand US sailors are descending on Chennai shore. “Can you imagine?” he asked.

I suppose I can. They do that quite often at Pattaya, Thailand…

Overall: it felt nice to come to a “feel-good about India and US” kind of a gathering. Quite a contrast from what a kid who appeared for his US Visa interview told me the other day.

But then, not all Americans are immigration officials.  Not all people from India are Sree…

Wave transformation

Remember, when we were kids, and the evening game of cricket or I-spy or Pittoo or kho-kho or whetever neared its end, when the Sun, despite its soft-corner for children, was no longer able to remain in high-office and plunged behind the trees or whatever was in the horizon…

And  we being kids, and life being magic, would somehow squeeze some light out of the darkness and continue playing, the game itself taking a surreal dimension, with much drama and emotion churned in those extra twilight minutes….

And then finally, when either the ball was lost, or some other natural inhibitor (angry parents, some kid injured, or some house window broken) happened to happen, the game came to a natural halt…

And with a last whooop, the kids would wave each other a big “BYE” and run in different directions, in a rush to reach home,  have lots and lots of water from a ‘mutka’ or ’suraai’ and settle down for some pretense of study / homework and wait for dinner….

All this came back to me suddenly yesterday, when I was driving past a sub-urban locale outside Bangalore, a place of modest means…a place where the local school had a small building and a big playground (when was the last time you saw such a one in the city?),where one could see old play-fixtures like monkey-ladders, and groups of kids playing soccer, cricket and a few other games in the same field.

And I wondered about the kids of the metro. Where is the place to play? When was the last time they could have an evening of outdoor games and wave “Tata, Bye-bye-cheerio” at end to friends?

Maybe, today, one still does see the jerky “bye-bye” wave where the hand is kept in front of one’s chest…but that in comparison to the old-time above the shoulder full-hand wave of TATA, is like comparing house-fly buzz to the flight of the falcon…

Time’s trucker has gobbled up that sky-wave of ‘Tata’. That truck of India, which has displayed a very industrial constancy of purpose…The truck that blares the horn, and pushes you off the road as it rattles past you, it’s smoke-spewing backside sporting a skull-and-bones sign and the proclamation “Burey nazar waaley, tera muh kaala” (Oh you of evil eye, may your face be blackened) and the other one “OK TATA”…

Father-lock

As I step into my daughter’s room
Going through
the revolving door
of time
She jumps
And in one swoop
Spins me right-back-out
Before I can even wink
At the TV she is watching.

For she cares for me
And knows well
That I am not old enough
To see programs
Such as these.

Zaint

I dont know if this is peculiar to the Eastern world. We have this tradition in primary-school, to memorize Math tables. You can hear a musical drone of childrens’ voices, singing / chanting the multiplication tables….”Two-two zaa four…two-three zaa six….two-four zaa eight” etc - and each table, for some reason, would extend upto “sixteen zaa”…. and the tables themselves would go upto “sixteen”..so the end of road for rote is “sixteen-sixteen zaa two-fifty-six”…

‘zaa’ above is short for ‘is-equal-to’ or ’s-are’ (three-three’s-are-nine)…or just ‘is’.

On that note comes the subject of ‘zaint’.

It would on first sight appear that ‘zaa’ is to ‘is’, as ‘zaint’ is to ‘aint’.

So two-two zaint three.

But ‘zaint’ is more than just aint…The letter ‘zee’ points both sides, on top and bottom of a Pisa like slant.

‘zaint’ has non-definitiveness on both sides of the zee-quation. There is the indeterminacy of mystic “maya”…

Lets illustrate that with a story. Albeit an old one…a recycled version, a ‘green’ story, if you will.

A top-notch Swiss watch manufacturing company was having some problems with the software systems in the watch, and the ‘time’ displayed was not meeting the Swiss standards of accuracy…and so they had to recruit a top-notch software engineer to fix that. They shortlisted a few candidates, and the final interview was being held in Barnhoffestrasse in Zurich (one of the most expensive shopping experiences in the world)…

First candidate was a Britisher. A team of Swiss-Germans were in the interview panel. They asked the candidate - “So, what is two-two zaa?”

The Britisher software engineer was quite outraged that he would be asked such a silly question - one that any British student who has completed high school could answer. He walked out in a huff.

Next candidate was a Frenchman. He was asked the same question - “what is two-two zaa?”. He too was “le suprized”…but he did his surprize well, smiled that most charming smile-francaise and said “Iz four”…

“Good” said the panel, and promised to get back to him after ‘zee two weeks’.

The third candidate was an American. He breezed into the room, jerked the hands off the interview-panel folks in a series of hearty handshakes. He too was asked the same question. The American whipped out his sleek all-in-one handheld gadget, invoked the calculator function, ran the numbers, and said “Ha! Four”, and showed the panel the proof of digital display. The panel was impressed…..”yaa, yaa….technology….exzellent”…And they asked him to wait in the next room, while they saw just one more candidate…..

An Indian….His name was QWERTY Rao.

QWERTY Rao walked in uncertainly, looked at each member in the panel and said “Good Morning” as many times, and fixed his gaze on the one he figured was the Chief of the panel. He too was asked “Mr Rao…what is two-two zaa?”

He walked up and whispered  to the panel chief “What do you want it to be?”

It can be four, zero, forty whatever…It is not material…It is all Maya….its software….

Thats the stuff of “Zaint”…

When you say  “two-two zaint four”, it has mystic connotations on both sides of zaint.

Neither side has anything fixed about it. Two means differently in different contexts….So does four.

If you have understood this, you are ready now to prepare the Balanced-score-card for your department, business-unit or corporation. You are ready for the world of ‘management by metrics’.

What is “Zaa” for science, is ‘Zaint’ for business.

He still hides behind his eyelids

 ”EXCUSE ME!!”
They interrupt
My walk and reverie;
Its night time
And I can’t quite see them clearly;
These two strange men
Who thrust a camera at me,
And it seems to me that they ask me
If they could take my photograph
Against the backdrop of the sea;
Smelling a rat
And suspecting the devil,
I decline politely,
Prepare to walk on briskly,
Wondering what this new racket is,
Perhaps it is a Polaroid,
And they would dunk a fat bill
Enclosed alongside the photograph
Of me looking silly
In darkness;
Mistrust writ large on my forehead.

It is then that it dawns on me
That maybe I have misunderstood;
And it turns out I was;
These are not two strange men;
These are two lads
On vacation
Who want to me to photograph them
And not the other way around;
They would love a snap by the seaside,
Coming as they do
From upcountry dry heartland
Which incidentally happens to be the place
Where I was born
And spent most of my childhood;

Suddenly
I am all smiles and courtesy,
I am Santa Claus
And these are two kids
Perched on my lap;
I Ho Ho Ho,
And grant their wish,
I wish them luck
And eternal happiness;
I am the very picture of Love.

I am still learning.

Raising the bar in a flat world

Looks like the barons of bangalore are running out of ideas.

Press has it that the Infy management is asking its employees to give an undertaking that they will not join any of its competitors for a period of six months after their job termination at Infosys. It seems that the employees have to sign this when they receive their annual hike letters.

According to the reports, the non-compete agreement specifies Infosys’ competitors as Tata Consultancy Services (TCS), Accenture, IBM Global Services, Cognizant Technology Solutions and Wipro.

In one stroke, the step seems to have spelt out an “us” and “them” divide between the Company (leadership) and the employees. Doesnt sound like good HR at all. One wouldnt expect to find employees falling over each other to sign this pledge of fidelity.

In this day and age, why would a professional company want to take such a step? Surely the company’s intellectual capital comprises far more than just employees. Surely the sum of employees is more than the parts. The corporation’s core competence, knowledge bases, process assets, innovation culture, education infrastructure,organization network, the brand, the customer relationships - these and such are the ones that ensure that business moves ahead despite people moving out - to named competition or elsewhere.

Seems that the Emperor of Electronics city is worried. The usual panache hasnt been spilling out of national and world media screens. Last couple of quarters results have not been super-duper. Facing the music has been coincident, perhaps, with what looks like a game of musical chairs at the helm of affairs. And in the background, the recent instrumental music at mysore…

But then, why would a company zero in on ‘bind the employee’ kind of strategy for protecting its business? It sounds like the old story of searching for the lost coin under the brightest lamppost. Its the easy thing to do - although not the wisest.

Ho-hum…The world doesnt seem so flat after all, does it? At least not as far as employees go.

Whats up nowadays

Time was
When God was male
And heaven was above.

Time was
When we looked up
For answers.

Not any more.

Eyes down
I look below
To my Guru
Seeking wisdom
To help choose
My next mobile
God
Handheld device…

(Used to be known
as a cell phone
the last time around)

My Guru smiles
That superior smile
And mouths Mantras…

3G, she says,
A2DB she says
RSS feeds, she says…
And says more
Smiles mystically
As I stare open-mouthed
At her,
My daughter
My Guru…

Old Boys Meet

The truth be told
We did not mourn.

Half a dozen of us
Classmates old
Met over beer
And fruit juice
And we dissected kebabs
And gobi Manchurian
Traded old jokes
Trashed other folks
Who weren’t there
(They wouldn’t mind
They’d have done the same)
We jabbered
Like a party of gibbons
And somewhere in-between
We even spoke
About our classmate
Who died a few days ago
The other side of the earth.

Cancer killed him.

We didn’t mourn.

In the two hours
That we met
We must have spoken
Maybe ten minutes about him
Voices lowered
Senses pulled back in
Eyes becoming slits…

It ain’t so easy to speak
When you are partly dead.