Flyin High and Low

It is quarter to seven in the morning and -42 degrees outside, I have Udaipur on my left, partially digested patties in my tummy, heck of a lot of caffeine running in my arteries, Simply Red’s Mike Hucknell crooning “Stay” in my ears and drowning out the guttaral snoring emitted by the sleeping man in the seat next to me – and I am feeling wiredcontentwoozycoldsweatyexciteddejectedfreakyhappysad. Welcome to my life on an early morning flight to the capital. For a change this flight is running ahead of schedule – making a beeline for the Delhi skies trying to get ahead in the landing sequence queue.

It is tough being an airline these days. Especially if you are a low cost airline – like the one I am travelling in today – when you have to somehow “justify” the low cost title while the primary costs remain the same. They should be called low margin airlines instead. The cabin crew still needs to be presentable, be able to speak English and have the basic IQ not to open the escape hatch in mid-air – which in itself opens lots of other career options for them. Hence, they can’t be paid lesser than their compatriots in “Full Service” (or high margin) airlines. (Meanwhile Simply Red has given way to the absolutely delightful “Tu bole Main boloon” from A.R.Rahman’s “Jaane Tu Ya Na Jaane” soundtrack.) The airline still has to invest in the maintenance and engineering staff on the ground – and really, they cannot cut corners with the cockpit-crew either. Just because we pay less – it doesn’t mean we deserve to be flown by unshaven pilots with prior experience in flying crop-dusters or flushing out forest fires in Oregon. And the Aircraft itself has to be fully equipped – no doing away with seats or even seat belts, nor will low-cost (read low income) flyers accept a wing less or do without those buttons on top which are used to summon the crew, when lonely.

Thankfully most Indians also cannot do without food – so the poor airlines try to minimize their losses by “catering to the masses”. The above mentioned patties and a tea cost me 80 bucks – sky high prices one would say. (Megadeth has started thrashing out “Sleepwalker”, the heaviest track I have heard in mainstream metal since a decade. Metal still rulez!!) So I gave a hundred rupee note to pay for my wares – and she told me she will return the change back later. Patties and tea are safely in my stomach – we are flying over Jaipur (I guess), I can sense a change in altitude, but my 20 bucks are not back yet. Maybe this is the latest ploy by desperate airlines to avoid going under. “Lets not return the change – no one will be cheap enough to ask… well if they are, we can always ask them to collect it from the ground staff. Now who in their right minds would ever go to such lengths?” Best Airline Company Boardroom idea of the Year. The Your-change-lines-our-pockets strategy. Remember, how in Jet Airways, towards the end of a flight, the sucker-of-the-day walks down the aisle with a blue donation box, (I am sure the crew draws straws for this) asking passengers to contribute to “Jet Airways Save-the-Children” fund? Maybe, the poor low margin airlines need to do the same – “Go Air – save my ass fund”. “Please contribute to our cause or else next time NO TOILETS! Or worse WE WON’T LAND!”

Ah…the delectable Hootie and the Blowfish are strumming out “Only wanna be with you…” – did you know that Tiger Woods had them playing LIVE at his wedding-with-the-swedish-nanny? And while I figure out what to write next – “Ranjan” from the Go Air staff just returned my 20 bucks. Guess being a Parsi-run airline – they have to be honest. Good for them…had half a mind to tell them to keep it. Oooh…passing through cloud…see flashes of white…keeping laptop from flying in air…patties don’t wanna stay in tummy anymore…I am sure soon these guys will introduce a “Turbulence Surcharge” along with a “Puke Cleaning” component. Jeez what a state my blog has come to…puke jokes. Yuck.

I shall stop now as apparently we are about to land after doing a full recce of the airspace around Delhi. Hope I was not too cruel to an already suffering lot. One is such an easy target when one is flying low…

Co-evolution.

Was watching M Night Shyamalan’s latest flick the other night. Though the movie itself was nothing to write to my momma (or on this blog) about – there was a very rare and interesting insight which crept up to me like a komodo dragon about to change drasctically the life of an unsuspecting rodent.

Evolution is not an isolated incident.

It requires not just one life to catch signals of change and adapt…it requires a collective of conscious beings (things with “life”) to communicate and bring about collective metamorphosis. In “The Happening” it was plants in nature detecting humans as a threat and releasing toxin carriers in the air – which would turn hordes of people suicidal. (There. I just saved you 500 bucks.) But really the interesting bit there was that the plants “communicated” to fight for their survival. They worked together to carry forward the interminable juggernaut of evolution.

So much for the glory of the individual – on which the current generation of humans places so much importance. Wrapped up in our cosy comforters – we think we are invincible or worse that we can change the world. Right…and the next thing you know you are stabbing yourself in the neck with a hairpin in the middle of Philadelphia. (Now you really do not need to see the movie…) Ah…but before I become the designated hitter of humans – let me also concede that we have a way to operate as a collective consciousness. Before you think I am gonna say “Facebook” – let me tell you that you are right. See? We already agreed without talking about it!

Seriously…it is much beyond just Facebook – it is all those little marvels of technology which build social networks today and enable me to talk Kinochi Hibodori about his new Hayabusa. (I don’t know who the hell he is – but if he did exist, you can be sure I could talk to him using some social networking tool or the other.) Soon there will be a time when we not only use these tools at a conscious level – but they will become extensions of our consciousness – like the tentacles of a jellyfish. So if there is a distant threat to catch – and the signals are too weak for the BBC or Aaj Tak – one day maybe a part of your subconscious might actually catch these from a random conversation. Similarly millions of minds around the world will recognize the same signals – and sub-patterns will start to emerge through conversations and blogs and rants like this one. Sub-patterns will merge, replicate and transform into discernible micro-events. Micro-Events will lead to subliminal realization – and realization will drive people to behave in a different way or change certain things. And all this can – theoretically – happen within hours.

And you would have evolved without even realizing it. Ever wondered why the rate of change in the world in the past 10 years exceeded the previous 20, which exceeded the previous 100, which exceeded the previous 15000? This is why. Unfortunately nature does not evolve or react so fast. It evolves very slowly, unrecognized by humans, marked by seemingly isolated incidents like a species of turtles which disappears off the coast of New Guinea. Major changes in nature happen once in a millenia or even more… following the principle of the “Tipping Point”. One day – “Bang!” – Manhattan will be under water. For real…not in a Hollywood set.

So what do we do? We think on behalf of nature I guess…we co-evolve with it. There is only so much that we can control in nature  – but we can influence factors which will provide the necessary “right” signals to the living beings around us – and maybe they won’t find the need to panic and perhaps major disaster can be averted. We have the technology and bandwidth today to talk as a Global collective – and catch these signals of change. Maybe one day we will know how to really use it.

(Thank you Mr. Shyamalan – you made me think a bit…;))

First day at school

My son today officially became a “big boy” – when he stepped confidently into his coloured, plastered and paper mache’d Junior KG classroom. Being the first day – the school authorities had requested all parents to personally drop and pick up the kids from the school. Waiting outside while the class went on, was completely optional – and some paranoid (and maybe jobless) mothers did exercise the option.

When we reached the school – there was a mêlée of parents, grandparents, chachas, phooyees, aayas, drivers, teachers, peons and helpers bustling around in a scene resembling last moments of a stock clearance sale for iPhones. It was quite easy to miss the fact that the whole thing was actually about the children. Poor lil things were jostled and elbowed and carried and pushed to their classrooms… not a good start. I firmly held Dhruv’s hand and stayed behind – and waited for the gang to clear up. When I finally did reach his classroom – the scene inside was one that of pandemonium. Wailing children being assuaged by helpless mothers, a couple of kids fighting with someone who looked like staff trying to stop them in vain, belligerent parents asking a hundred questions simultaneously to a harried lady – who eventually had to stop them by shouting “I AM A PARENT – I AM NOT THE TEACHER!”

Dhruv looked up at me – as if questioning my decision to pay all that money and enroll him in what looked like the marriage registration office in November. I nodded wisely – “main hoon na” - and proceeded to look for a teacher. Now it is not that easy – especially if you have no clue what he/she looks like. I saw a woman looking at me – and she smiled. Bingo! I went towards her – and saw a little girl in pigtails appearing from behind her legs and looking at me with big eyes. Nope…not the teacher. So I asked her – have you seen the teacher? She shook her head in despair… obviously she too had failed in the quest for the master or mistress. Suddenly I saw a harried housewife (sorry homemaker) running out of the door calling for someone… she obviously didn’t find her and as she rushed back – she bumped into me and both of us almost fell on the sunmica table. “Are you the teacher?” I asked. She nodded very sadly as if saying “you found the poor sod”.
“This is Dhruv”, I said.
“Where is his i.d. card?”
“We didn’t get one.”
Blank stare.
“You were supposed to make one on your own – until we gave you one. Didn’t you know?”
“I am sorry – I didn’t. But I will create one by tomorrow.”
She gave me a disappointed shake of the head – took Dhruv by the shoulder and sat him down on an empty seat. I asked – when can I pick him up.
Tired blank stare followed by “What did they tell you?” while pointing generally at ether.
I looked around expecting a bunch of “them” hovering over my back, wagging “their” fingers at me saying “We told you! You weren’t paying attention! Bad boy.”
“Who?”
“Them. The authorities.”
“What I know is 3:45 from the circular pasted outside - but just wanted to confirm with you.”
Another disappointed shake of the head. She then turned around and tapped another lady on her arm – and asked her the same question. This was the “real” teacher. She said – “3.45. Please come yourself with the i.d. card.”
“I don’t have an i.d. card.” I was getting tired of this erudite conversation – and the blank stares I was at the receiving end of.
“Please make one soon.”
I nodded – and turned to Dhruv. I kissed him on his cheek and told him “Papa will be back to pick you up.” He gave a nervous smile. Meanwhile the wailing and cajoling and questioning around us continued unabated. It was enough to make a grown man nervous – forget a small boy.

But my small boy just nodded confidently and waved me goodbye. As I stepped out of the battlezone – I looked back at him. And the image of a four year old waving at me with apprehension in his young eyes – but a brave smile on his face – I will never forget. I wondered – if I was ever this brave in my entire life. There was a lump in my throat as I walked down the corridor – leaving the noise behind. Will he be ok? And then I saw his brave smile again in my mind… I smiled and I believed.

Yes…he is going to be just fine.

The World’s best places to live in.

Mercer Consulting has just released its annual survey of the “World’s best places to live in”. This is based on a point scale with NYC at 100 as the base, with which all cities are compared on 39 parameters across 10 categories of factors which define “quality of living” according to the surveyors. I have a slight problem with this approach (though I can’t suggest a better one) – as I believe happiness in life is a state of mind. I know many people in Mumbai (which will not feature on any such list in our lifetimes) who believe it is the best place on earth. To their credit, Mercer agrees, and distinguishes their survey as one on “Quality of living” rather than “Quality of life” which is thoroughly subjective. The main use of this survey is not for individuals to plan their immigration routes (though some might still do that) – but for corporates to plan global expansion, build expatriate bases, decide on their compensation etc.

Some very interesting highlights of the report: The highest ranked US city is Honolulu – coming in at 28! The top 20 is dominated by Europe with the world’s best city to live in being Zurich – many years in a row.

The Zurich “Harbour”

The other usual suspects such as Paris, Rome, London – all are missing from the top 20. The largest city to make an appearance in the top 20 is Berlin with a population of 3.4 billion – which leads one to believe about a direct correlation between population and quality of living. There isn’t a single Asian city in the top 50! The other countries which have entries in the top 20 are Canada (Vancouver, Toronto & Ottawa), Australia (Sydney and Melbourne) and New Zealand (Auckland and Wellington). All the other cities are European.

I have been to many of the top 20 cities – and I was trying to figure out what is common between them, and I think each of these places have a unique mix of high financial potential and a cultural & historical heritage – where industry, the governments and the citizens have joined hands to create ecosystems where individuals have every chance of building a happy, healthy and safe lives. Obviously a high per capita is a very important factor in this – and this is where most Asian cities will lose out.

Can an Indian city ever make the cut? Difficult. Definitely none of the Tier 1 cities and not most of the Tier 2 cities. The fast rising population and influx from neighbouring poorer regions – will ensure that the infrastructure development will be ten steps behind. The only chance are new havens built from smaller cities (like Mysore for instance, or Jamshedpur, or Vadodara) – where industry takes an active participation to build world-class cities. But I also think – right now that should be the last thing on our minds. We don’t need to be on any list…the truth is apparent all around us, we should see the change we need to make.

Some links:

The Mercer dedicated site on the survey:
http://www.mercer.com/qol

The definition of quality of living:
http://www.mercer.com/referencecontent.jhtml?idContent=1306640

A pictorial rundown of the top 20:
http://images.businessweek.com/ss/08/06/0611_mercer/index_01.htm

My personal opinion on which of the featured cities is the best place to live? Vancouver.

Nice Signature to have

Something I stumbled upon. Pithy – and you can’t really argue with this…;)

Where’s the magic?

Can there be more dependable visionary in Hollywood than Steven Spielberg? I am an ardent fan – and each movie of his is an experience that is delectable. And each experience is different – he has tackled literally every genre – and mostly come out with masterpieces in all of them. But his best movies (E.T., Jurassic Park, Close Encounters, Catch me if you can, The Terminal, AI, Saving Private Ryan, Schindler’s List, Raiders of the lost ark – even Jaws) have something that cannot be described in a word that exists in any dictionary. The closest word I guess, is “Magic”. And this magic is not a particular way of doing things, or extraordinary graphics or even a great script… this magic comes from moments and scenes where Spielberg displays extraordinary insight on what makes his audience (regardless of age or gender) skip a beat or two. Not all of his creations have these moments…and therein lies the greatness or the ordinariness of the creation. (Of couse his ordinary is still quite superb!)

A couple of examples. The scene in Jurassic Park - where Sam Neill and the rest are taking the first tour of the park in their range rovers - and the power fails, rendering them stuck. Its dark, its unknown…Jeff Goldblum is bored…nothing seems to be happening…suddenly the camera zooms in on a glass of water. The water is trembling. The audience cannot hear anything at first…but soon faint “booms” are heard. Of course soon the T-rex arrives and the rest we know is carnage… but the way he affects fear in the hearts of his audience is just – well – magic. Or in ET (that movie is full of magic!) where ET touches a plant and makes it come alive or the scene where he hides still in the toy cupboard pretending to be a toy so that the mother does not detect him… the audience is laughing crying and wondering – and really that is what movie making is all about.

Which brings me to his latest creation. When I heard a couple of years ago for the first time that Indian Jones was returning in a new movie – with the original cast and crew – I realized how the next two years are gonna go. Waiting very impatiently. I followed the progress very dilligently…till the day it was released. After that I didn’t read a single review and refused to talk to anyone who had seen the movie. I didn’t want to walk in into something I have waited for, for so long, with a bias. So when the movie started a couple of Sundays ago – it was my first exposure to the movie since its release date. First scene – a really old Harrison Ford being held captive by evil russian dominatrix type Cate Blanchett. Hmmm… very abrupt actually. No build up. Of course as the movie went on – I settled deep into my chair oblivious to the rest of the world – and enjoyed another Spielberg treat. The movie ended with an entire Aztec temple transforming into a spaceship and flying away…and with Spielberg having found his son – about whose existence he had hitherto no clue. Good.

I stood up and left the theater.

And didn’t think about the movie until after three days when I discussed it with a friend. It was then I realized that this movie didn’t have the Spielberg magic. It was very entertaining & innovative with adequate doses of sardonic humor that Indiana Jones movies are famous for… but no sir! No magic. (Yeah this vague talk is frustrating…but hey what can I say?!!) Even if I do not compare the movie to other Indiana Jones outings – this movie lacks something. Maybe it is because Mr. Ford is no longer in his 30-40s. (though really – he was still the best thing about the movie!) Maybe it is because – as my boss ably suggested – we are a generation still reeling from the drunken swagger of Jack Sparrow, to be impressed by an ageing archeologist jumping from jeep to jeep or fighting killer ants.  

Last heard the movie had box office collections of $260 Mil already – much more that its predecessors. I guess lots of frachisee fans like myself, must be turning up hoping to experience the same magic of 19 years ago when Indian Jones had unearthed the book of secrets - with Sean Connery tagging along as his irritated (and irritating) dad. I wonder how many of them, came out wondering – like me – that maybe the Last Crusade should have been just that, for Indiana Jones.

But – hey don’t miss the movie! Total timepass!

The secrets of city racing

As Ram Gopal Varma has time and again tried to prove – Mumbai has a vibrant underground scene. Illegal activities which god-fearing citizens such as Nimeshbhai and me will never get a whiff of…unless we unknowingly wander into the grimy heart of Dharavi. But there is something decidedly illegal, I have to shamelessly admit, I have become a part of. City car racing.

Now, Mumbai, for those unenlightened has two major arteries running through the city. These parallel multi-laned roads are the Western and the Eastern express highways. Though not complete – these roads are pretty much world class, with flyovers and underpasses ensuring that roads do not choke. This also means, during non-rush hours there are stretches of pristine 4 laned tarmac which would send N Kartikeyan into a adrenaline fueled tizzy. Now there are some rules of city racing which are not written but are inadvertently followed by those how have discovered this sport.

1. Racing will happen only during non-rush hours: i.e. not during morning 7 to 11 and evening 5 to 11 on weekdays. (this one is auto enforced. the sheer amount of traffic is not conducive to any kind of frenetic activity.)
2. You shall only challenge cars of same or bigger power for a race. (Or else you are a loser and a bully.) But you are welcome to beat the crap out of a smaller car if challenged by one.
3. You shall not race with two-wheelers.
4. You shall not drive in a way that puts two wheelers and pedestrians in jeopardy.
5. You are allowed to downshift at all times – in fact the brave will downshift to second at a speed of 90kmph to win.
6. You are allowed to overtake from the left (that’s where the illegal comes in). Otherwise, really, there is no point.
7. You shall not jump red lights – but you are allowed to attain speeds which will enable to cross the light while it is still at yellow.
8. You are allowed to take alternate routes (for eg. under a flyover than above it) if you know that there will be less congestion there.
9. There will be no racing during rains – until every car in India has ABS.

So it was with these rules in mind one Sunday afternoon – when the Swift (petrol) I was driving was overtaken from the wrong side by a spanking new Fabia (1.6 PD Diesel), on the Andheri flyover. I decided to throw him a challenge by quickly cutting in from the right while downshifting for the extra burst. This is how you challenge. Many people, sane ones, ignore these challenges. But this guy picked it up in a flash! He again stepped on the gas and overtook me again, expertly driving through the narrow space between a BEST relic and a dumper.

Alright! Game on! I quickly jumped a few tracks on my car audio system to “Danger Zone” – corny, but great for adrenalin rushes – and jumped forward in response. He was on the lane to the right of me and traveling really fast. I pushed my Swift – she responded beautifully as she always does – and I was catching up with him. Uh oh! Rickshaw ahead. Now Rickshaws are like pawns on a chessboard. There are more of them than any other vehicle on the road, they are slow but can be highly effective in slowing you down too. I had to cross into my opponent’s lane before the rickshaw. I downshifted to second – at a speed of 80. My RPM needle jumped to 7000 – very close to the redline. I was thrown back in my seat as she surged forward, overtaking the Fabia…but the Rickshaw was too close. I slammed on the brakes – and the Fabia zoomed past me on the right. I checked the rearview, saw enough space to swerve into his lane and resumed the chase. This is where I love the Swift.

Her transition from 20 odd to 100 is so smooth – in no time I was sniffing his tail. He tried to shake me off by swerving to lane on the left of him to overtake the rickshaw in front of him…I did better, I moved two lanes to the left and soon was overtaking him. He must have been in two minds then…new car…should I downshift? As I pulled up next to him, we looked at each other, I smiled at him. He downshifted! I followed and soon we were travelling at undisclosed speeds, nose to nose – the Fabia in lane 2 and my Swift in lane 3.

Now there were two trucks, one in his lane and one in mine. I couldn’t go left because there were a slew of two wheelers… he couldn’t go right because there were all kinds of trucks and buses moving pretty slowly. I had a slight advantage as the truck in my lane was ahead of the truck in his lane. My only chance was to squeeze between them and come into the Fabia lane, ahead of the truck. I pushed the Swift – 120, 130, 140. She is remarkably stable at such speeds…I am actually leaving the Fabia behind. We reached the trucks…he slammed the brakes and turned left into my lane behind me. Kenny Loggins was screaming “Highway to the Danger Zone…” as I aimed her nose into the gap between the two trucks. She made it quite comfortably…but so did the Fabia behind me. But now I had a lead. I maintained my speed – as I approached my exit. He swerved to the lane to the left of me and tried to catch up. Now the lane was empty in front of me…but there was a rickshaw in front of him…quite ahead though. The Fabia proved it’s premium tag by managing to pull up by my side. He was drawing closer to the rickshaw – his only chance was to downshift, overtake me, and squeeze in between the rickshaw and the Swift.

Will he do it? The rickshaw was damned close now…he had to take a decision. He slammed on his brakes – I could hear loud screeching as I zoomed past, took a sharp left and took my exit. I had won. Only just.

My heart was thumping like the bass on Danger Zone…as the song ended and Berlin started singing “You take my breath away…”

Of course, most of the above is fiction and I would never do anything as crazy as this. After all I am God-fearing aren’t I?

I moved here. It’s dirt cheap. And great location.

Have been off the scene for a while – probably because have been involved in something larger than I ever have before. One of those things which can change lives and careers. Can’t say much about it now – stay tuned for the first week of July. You will hear about it.

Well, the hand might not be writing junk, but the brain does not stop collecting it. Decided to restart something new. So moved my address from Damnhobsons to Grimescene@wordpress.

Grimescene? My tribute to the world we live in. From incestuous fathers to 300 pieces chopped by a good catholic girl…truth certainly has beaten fiction. This is not crime…something much worse…something that shows that humans are part honey and part rot. This is grime of the filthiest kind.

Don’t worry…will not suddenly turn into an undercover reporter now… but the name and header are just a tribute to the huge “Grimescene” we live in today.

Watch out for my next post… and hey! Welcome back.

AV