Lost Across The Universes

 

I had a South Indian origin and name,

But I was born and Schooled in the north;

One sunny afternoon, post our History class,

My friends realized that I was a ‘Dravidian’ and hence was different;

I neither spoke Tamil nor carried any baggage but I was named,

I was named and called a ‘Dravidian’, and I felt lost amongst my ‘Aryan’ friends.

 

I studied hard,

I wanted to make a career;

But I didn’t do good enough for them,

For, they called me out, they called me ‘privileged’ and  ‘upper’;

I was named and called an ‘upper’, and I felt lost in the battle of classes.

 

I was a moderate but I had my viewpoint,

I never aligned but I expressed my opinion;

When I found someone precise, I hailed it right,

When I found someone wrong, I called out strong;

I believed in multiplicity of ideas,

And in diversity of thoughts,

They only propagated binarism of followership;

They kept drawing up battle lines,

And I didn’t want to be on either side;

They all longed for my extended hand,

But wanted me to exit the no-man’s land;

And I felt lost between the lines.

 

The Cosmos is a myth, or ethereal at most,

And I have realized, through a lifelong dilemma,

That we are just a collection of parochial universes;

Universes of class, colour, creed, region, language, polity and cults,

And there are no intersections designed in these venn;

For, there is nothing universal,

It is just your universe versus mine;

And I feel lost, like a miniscule fragment,  across these chasmic universes.

 

My fascination with the Indian Railways

 

A long 48-hour train journey from Kanpur to Chennai and then, after a brief hiatus there, onward to Tirunageswaram (near Kumbakonam), was a regular feature of our summer vacations. Since none of my friends in Kanpur had ever carried out such a long train journey, I tended to enjoy the trip to the fullest to be able to brag about it to them on my return.

There was no direct train from Kanpur to Chennai in those days. We would take a short trip to Jhansi and then catch a train coming from Delhi en route to Chennai. The stay over at Jhansi would be as long as 5-6 hours and we would hop from one platform to another to get  full experience of the large and busy railway station. On the way to Chennai, there were big junctions, a station with a large turntable to reverse the direction of the engine, the thick forests and the long tunnels through the expansive Vindhyachal range in Madhya Pradesh, which would be at the pinnacle of its beauty during the rainy season. The last attraction would be the long bridge over the Krishna river just after the Vijayawada railway station. And of course the grand and majestic Chennai Central where the railway tracks ended – giving us a feeling of covering the entire length of the country.

Once in our village Tepperumanallur (quite a tongue twister for my friends), which was just behind the Tirunageswarm railway station, our lives would be confined to one long street called Agraharam, with some 70-80 houses, a small market with 5-7 shops, two temples, an old style ancestral house with a deep well,  a large 100-meter long backyard that had a number of trees and the railway station. In the evenings, of course, we would take a train to Kumbakonam, which was the next station or would walk down to Tirunageswarm town, which was about 2 kilometers away and had some very famous temples, including our Kuladevi – Girigujambal.

A cousin of mine, we called him Narasu Attan (Narasimhan N), was working as a Station Master for the southern railways and used to have his duty shift across 3 stations on a roster. Tirunageswaram was one of the stations, other than Kumbakonam and Darasuram, where he would have his duty scheduled and we brothers would have a gala time at the station the whole day.

The day would start around 8:30 AM when all our local friends would take a train for their schools and colleges in Kumbakonam. The summer vacations ended in early June there unlike in Kanpur where it extended till early July. We would join them up to the station and then spend most of the day time observing all the action at the station. There were two platforms and one direct line for the express trains to pass through. The signal cabin was just across the platform and based on which lever the signal man pulled, our friends will predict as to which platform the train would come to. That was called a ‘Point’ and based on that the loop line would connect to one platform or the other. Sometimes we would go along the line, up to the ‘Point’ to see how the track shifted from mail line to the loop line. It used to be quite exciting to say the least.

The passing through of Cholan Express was another site that we enjoyed immensely. The signal man was also responsible for handing over the ‘Key’ – a metallic ball tied to a large ring made of bamboo shoots. The train would approach at a speed of some 100 KMPH and this man would stand on a small platform along the third line. The engine driver will take his one hand out in style and just put that through the large ring and the metallic ‘key’ would get passed on to the driver. That was his license to cross the station.  And then Narasu Attan would pick up the phone handle from the cradle of a large communication unit and announce to the man at the other end in Kumbakonam in style – ‘TRM Cleared’. TRM was the station code for Tirunageswaram.  When it was time for the next train to come, we would wait for that instrument to ring again, the station master of the other station would convey some numbers that Attan would note diligently in a large register, press some levers in that machine that would then drop that metallic ball. He would then call the signal man sitting outside the room to take the ball and prepare for the exchange of the ‘key’ through that wooden ring.

The same action in the night would be an amazing scene. Many a night, there would be no power supply. The man would then come up to the raised platform with the ‘Key’ ring in one hand and a large flambeau in his other hand. The flames of that torch, dancing in the blowing wind, gave the impression of a phantomic hero standing in the dark. And then in a flash, the driver of that Tuticorin Express would bring out his head and the left hand, bend down a little, and just put his hands through the ring to snatch the ‘Key’ from this signal man, blowing the long whistle all along, at a breathtaking speed of 100 KMPH. It was a heroic operation that we never got bored of watching every day.

During the afternoons, when there were no trains, we would enact the same sequence in our long backyard by making that ring out of very thin bamboo shoots and attaching a ‘key’ made of very small coconut buds that had dropped from the coconut tree all over the backyard. My brother and I would have some fights if I were not allowed the equal number of opportunities to play the driver role, while he played the signal man. With no modern electronic gadgets and devices, these vicarious pleasures made our holidays most enjoyable in that tiny village.

Earlier this week, I got a message from Kumbakonam that Narasu Attan, who had settled down there post his retirement some 15-20 years back, had passed away. I had met him in December last when I visited the place for the divine darshan of my family deity. He was as affectionate as he had always been. He was preparing for his son’s engagement. After the death of his wife a few years back, he wanted to complete this one responsibility of seeing through his son’s marriage. After waiting for covid to recede, the marriage was finally solemnized a month back.  Despite his age, he was at his enthusiastic and energetic best during the marriage, I am told. But he fell sick immediately after the marriage and could not recover. The sad news of his demise brought back all my old childhood memories spent in the village and my amazement at the well-oiled process of the railway system.  And I imagined a very content Narasu Attan standing in front of that machine in Kumbakonam and declaring – KMU cleared. RIP Narasu Attan and thanks for making my childhood vacations so enjoyable and memorable.

The Q Reminiscences

 

As I dropped my bag on the X-ray belt at the entrance gate of my office, I noticed a small placard announcing – Come in Q please. I was surprised that such a basic discipline was required to be called out in a plush office employing well-educated people. But that also took my memory back to the long-forgotten Q-culture of our everyday life.

My earliest memory and experience of a Queue, and for that matter it could be for all of us, is that very first inculcation of discipline in the school, while going to our respective classes after the morning assembly.  And surprisingly, for whatever joy it brought, the very first act of disobedience also originated from within those Queues, the moment that Queue took a turn, away from the watchful eyes of the class teacher.

In the mid-seventies, I was too young to understand the rigmaroles of life but the omnipresence of the Queue had surely made an impression on my young mind.  It was so much a part of the social life that a popular Hindi movie of Manoj Kumar had a song mocking this societal nuisance and those lines – Ration wali line ki lambai maar gayi – used to rent the air so much that it became a fulcrum of political revolution that had dethroned the de facto  ‘Q’ueen of the country.

My tryst with the Queue continued through my school and college days when I was handed over the chores of booking a railway ticket, paying electricity bill or sending a money order from the post office. There used to be just one or two counters for the whole city to complete their business and hence one can imagine the length of the queue to do the work that today we do at the click of a button from our cozy homes. And all those hours that I would stand in the Queue, I would be worried about my cycle that I would have chained with a pole or with the iron railing along the footpath. The risk of losing my cycle in those days was as high as losing money by investing in a volatile stock market today. But I had little choice.

Watching a movie in a multiplex is a pleasure these days. Booking the tickets in advance and picking your favorite seats on your mobile is a routine. Back in those days, one had to reach the theater at least 2 hours in advance, as we do today for taking an international flight. There would be long queues, that we all had been trained for at the school, albeit with no teacher to watch over. So, leave aside the pleasure, it was more of a battle to get the tickets.

In the post millennial world, life has become much simpler. The widespread digitalization and easy access to the computing devices has made these services accessible through thousands of parallel threads.  Most of the services are available online and any maintenance or help is through a Call Center. It is another matter that when you call them, on most of the occasions, you may still find yourself ‘in the Queue’. So, despite all the automation and the digitalization, the quintessential ‘Queue’ could not be killed. Amongst the many things that we picked up from our erstwhile rulers this could be one as well  -  Long Live the ‘Q’ueen.

Boss!!! Beware…

 

As the Covid lockdown is getting relaxed slowly, in a phased manner, all of us have started the final countdown for the day when we would be joining back our respective workplaces. Some are eager to go back to work to run away from the forced loneliness, a few others have enjoyed the solitude and are dreading going back to the same old boss, who, they know, would waste no time in throwing his weight around to compensate for the lost time.

But a lot of sanitizer and liquid soap has flown down the city drains all these 8 weeks and one has to quickly reassess and readjust to the new normal. If you are the boss in the office, and a bossy one at that, be aware that 8-weeks of confinement has made people emotionally strong. Know that people have learnt new skills and have equipped themselves with higher marketability quotient. So, if you are the Boss – Beware!!!

Many of us have realized the true value of life. We have learnt to live a minimalist existence. And, we have learnt that there is much more to life than one singular aspiration of a vertical career growth. We have learnt to recognize the other varied opportunities that the nature offers beyond the limited confines of a career organization construct. So, if you are the Boss – Beware!!!

We have learnt that we could live without going to posh restaurants every weekend. We have realized that guzzling drinks with friends every weekend is not the only way to enjoy life. And we have reckoned that it doesn’t necessarily require to go to a deaddiction counselor to stop smoking. And, therefore, we know that a strong compulsive willpower can do wonders to our lifestyles. This time it was forced by nature but we know we could similarly force our nature.  We see through this chicken and egg story. We have learnt to differentiate between the necessities and the luxuries. And, we have found new pleasures in hitherto unexplored subtleties of life. So, if you are the Boss – Beware!!!

The Bosses too, I hope, would have realized the realities of life, albeit the harsh way. They would have realized that no CMMi principle could continuously shrink the time taken for household chores. That no Lean principle could continuously identify and cut-down the waste from the cooking time. And looking around, they would have realized that there is much more to offer as a service and a lot more to achieve in business than just a burgeoning balance sheet. So, if you are the Boss – Be more aware.

I read in a Whatsapp forward that the average mass of a virus is typically 0.85 atto-gram or 0.85 x 10 to power minus 18 grams – and so would be that of the Corona virus as well. And that it requires some 70 million viruses to make a person sick, which makes it to 0.0000005 grams. And given that some 3 million cases of Covid patients have been reported worldwide, we are talking about a total 1.5-gram weight of the rogue viruses around the globe.

So, if a mere 1.5 grams of virus has the potential to bring down the entire world to its knees, there is no space for bosses throwing around their weights on their subordinates who are merely a couple of notches below them in the hierarchy. So, if you are the Boss – Beware!!! Don’t just throw your weight around. For, Covid has now taken weight out of the equation.

 

Ageing With Technology

The other day, I visited my cousin Jai in Chennai. I was meeting her after a long time. Despite staying far away from the city in a peaceful suburb, with her two daughters settled abroad, she was her usual chirpy self. As if not to let her feel the absence of her demanding kids, she had her ageing father and her mother-in-law staying with her. Over the conversation, she said wryly, the kids have grown and are on their own but I still have enough on my plate to do. I could see the Gen X at the crossroads of parental duty and parental care.

As we were reminiscing our childhood days over a cup of coffee, her mother-in-law called from the upper floor. The Wifi signal was missing on her phone and she wanted Jai to check. As Jai was climbing up the stairs, Ashok - her husband -  called out from the other room – he had switched off the router due to heavy rains the previous night. As Jai came down pulling her hair, after switching on the router, she burst into laughter – I don’t get to know the difference whether I was connected on Wifi or mobile data but my mother-in-law is super sensitive. She doesn’t like the speed of 3G and wants only the high-speed Wifi for her Yoga lessons on the YouTube . And you were asking me as to how I spent my time with both kids away.  Ashok just quipped from behind the walls – they are ageing smartly and gracefully. Be proud of them.

As Jai was clearing the table her father came out from the room. He showed a long whatsapp message on his mobile to Jai and said – there is a very good home remedy for diabetes in my friends’ group. All these ingredients are available in our regular Anna Nagar shop. I have just now checked. Can you go to the town today and get these? It is very simple to make once we get the stuff.  Jai looked at the list, many of the items in the list she could not even pronounce. She took a deep breath, tried to hide the frown on her face and said – OK, just forward this to me – and moved into the kitchen.

As Jai came out of the kitchen, Ashok was leaving for his tennis session and waved towards me and Jai. Before he could leave, Jai snapped at Ashok and said – take a good look at my face. While your mother and father-in-law are ageing gracefully, I might suddenly turn into Eighty by the time you finish your game.  But don’t you worry, age is just a number after all. Ashok laughed and said – Go and watch Sankara TV with your father, that will calm you down.

The survival instinct

As I was entering my office I got a call from my colleague Prasad. Do you know that Narendra Babu has quit – he enquiringly declared with a bit of astonishment. Babu was indeed a hardcore org-person. Had joined the company as a fresher and loved the product that he had seen grow from a single client to 200 clients today. He would be the last person to quit, we all thought.  And Prasad added – you know Krishnan started reporting to him just about a fortnight back. Now, that was a piece of high-end analytics.

Suddenly I recalled the conversation that I had with AP Krishnan some 3 years back.  I had just been given the charge of a new department carved out and APK was one of the first to join the team. He had been an old timer with some 20+ years of experience but was a difficult guy to handle – at least that was what I had heard about him, though had never got a chance to work with him.

During our first conversation, APK was briefing me about the work done by him over the past 20 years and listed out all the Managers that he had worked with. And then, with an impish smile he asked me – do you know what is common across this list? I thought for a moment and said – I think all of them have left the organization now. And with the same mischief in his eyes he added – some of them not in the best of circumstances. I was taken aback by that menacingly honest introduction of APK. But I was badly in need of a Program Manager in my team so just ignored that as a friendly banter. And APK’s reputation as a strong Program Manager was overpowering enough to allay all other concerns at that point.

Two years later, I was in a situation when one of the programs handled by Krishnan was in trouble. And my new boss was livid. I was given an ultimatum that if the situation was not in control in 2-weeks’ time, I should look for a job. One of those evenings, we were sitting in a shanty bar in Mumbai, with a mug of beer in hand, discussing the strategy with APK for the set of problems in hand. For the first time, I could see APK feeling helpless and frustrated at the unending deluge of problems.  I suddenly recollected our first conversation. I felt like a wounded soldier on the hospital bed. Despite a valiant fight, the end appeared so near.  A good two months had passed since that late night call I had with my boss, putting money on my head. The situation had improved but not completely in control.

That night I could not sleep. Within an hour into my sleep I got up sweating. It was a bad dream. I was standing all alone in that big conference room of this client Bank, where large framed portraits of all their past MDs used to hang across the four walls. But what I saw in that dream was all the past Managers of APK smiling at me from those large portraits and there was one blank frame staring at me. And I knew the end was close. It was my turn now.

Next day, I entered the Bank and went straight into the room given to us for the project work. My eyes were red as I had not been able to sleep the whole night. To my surprise APK was already there – he normally used to come after I had settled in.  He too appeared a bit haggard.  And after a short exchange of pleasantries, he said, in all seriousness, that he had decided to go on a sabbatical for one year. The reason of course was not the travails of this project but something personal. I tried to reason it out with him but he had made up his mind on that.

As both of us got busy with our work in the morning, this sudden development kept pounding my mind. Is he really serious? Is there really a personal reason? Will this save him from losing his job? Or both our jobs for that matter? And that famous Bollywood dialogue came to my mind. Gabbar ke taap se tumhe sirf ek hi aadmi bacha sakta hai… Khud Gabbar.

And now, when APK joined back after one-year sabbatical, he started reporting to Narendra Babu. Prasad was perhaps hinting at this when he said that APK had just started reporting to Babu. Or did he genuinely mean that Babu’s team would be dismantled so APK would be available again for us to consider for one of our projects.

As I was deeply immersed in these thoughts, Raji knocked at my door. I had a scheduled review on the status of my operations. Towards the end of that review, Raji reminded me that one indent for a Program Manager that we had put in the talent portal was expiring and asked me whether that had to be extended. I felt like a live bullet had just gone past brushing my ears.  APK’s profile was a perfect fit for my indent. It was a close shave I thought – a second time in a row. And I told Raji – please delete that indent, we are not looking for any program manager for now. As Raji was leaving the room, I just turned towards her and asked – is there a way to find out who all have an open indent for program manager? I might have an opportunity to return a favour, I thought. 

Complex Majoritarianism and Majoritarian Complicity?

Recently, I was traveling by the Shatabdi express train from Chennai to Bangalore. During the journey, I observed that the steward serving us food was not very pleasant in his demeanor. Many of the passengers felt the same.  Some of them just ignored and a few others reacted but did not get any response.  And then, one of the passengers mentioned that the stewards were from the northern part of India and that indeed was the problem -  the north Indians coming down to south for work and vitiating the atmosphere.

As a matter of fact, the steward was indeed unpleasant but was not rude at all. The auto-rickshaw drivers in Chennai, on the other hand, are rude to the core. And I reckon, none of them is from the northern part of India. Same is the case with the local auto-rickshaw drivers in Bangalore or in Delhi. But dealing with them, people handle it as an individual aberration. However, when an ‘outsider’ shows a little attitude, the reaction turns parochial and an entire group is branded.

And therein lies the complexity of majoritarianism. The regional, religious, language or the social-class majority seeks a certain degree of primacy in the society, with a sense of entitlement. Be it this train incident; a roadside skirmish in any Indian city; an ostensible denial of a minority right in a majority domain; inside a minority dominated pocket within a majority expanse or even an offbeat thinker who doesn’t align with the majority viewpoint, be at work or in a society – the majoritarianism tends to command everything. Right from a trivial dress-code to a more expansive social practices or even to an organizational strategy.

As long as the smaller group remains submissive or compliant, there are no issues. The larger group doesn’t feel threatened as long as it maintains an upper hand. And precisely for that reason, the migrant businessmen from a specific part of the country are highly successful across the country and still are never at odds with the majority groups.  The psychology of Majoritarianism, howsoever complex it may appear, has also got to do something with the complicity of the Majoritarian. A majority group also consists of some balanced, moderate individuals. In fact, they form the majority within the majority. However, they remain passive on the face of such majoritarianism. And, as a result,  the small majoritarianist group sways passionate sentiments for unjustified and unethical parochial gains.

This passive moderate group has a major role to play if it truly believes in pluralistic principles - be it the roadside, a place of worship or a workplace. Did I err when I did not correct my fellow passenger in the train from branding and hence alienating a whole community. Perhaps yes. We can become a true pluralistic society only when the moderates thwart all attempts at isolating smaller groups in a given environment – the context could be a public place, a work place or a place of worship.  As there is no case for any patronage or appeasement of the smaller groups, there also is no room for any threat or check against the freedom of opinion and movement for anybody, anywhere, as long as the individual or the group is a responsible citizen of this country.