At the height of the dot.com bubble , they said each quarter was like a year. Given the pace, given the intensity of the experience, you could easily rack up a decades worth of experience in under 3 years. Just like a dog...
Well I've been in India riding the telecom wave for the last 11 quarters. And in the first couple of years each quarter certainly felt like a year. The richness of experiences - the variations, the fluctuations, the changes - before I knew it a full 4 quarters had passed, and the old way of life seemed almost like fiction.
Weekends vanishing in endless errands and chores, days passing by sometimes without seeing another person. Spending the entire day talking to a whole host of people - feeling connected with a large community but just on Sametime - for you non-IBMers that would be Instant Messaging or Yahoo Messenger or AIM . When you actually saw them face to face - you struggled - "uhm - can't we just log on to Sametime - I seem to have forgotten how to look at a person and talk at the same time"..........
Now when I think about it, I wonder if I just had an active imagination - whether the deer grazing around the pond in the backyard were real ? whether planting petunias in the baskets around the deck was real . Did I really paint that deck with my own hands ? Did we really re-seal the driveway that summer ? Did I really ride around my yard on a John Deere tractor cutting grass ? I know I never shoveled snow - well except that one time the blizzard of 96 - do people really move their clocks forward and back with the change of seasons ? Do I really drive a car ? Did I actually drive in the winter from what was that town I lived in NJ to Syracuse and back - all by myself ?
It all sounds like stuff I must have read in the countless books I've read over the course of my life. But that is what I did for 17 years.
And yet it all seems light years away.... The last 10 months in particular have been a blur. And my dream life as the DPE of a single account feels like it was nearly 10 years ago. Contradictory as it may seem - in one moment time seems to stand still - and yet it seems to flash right by.
For example - i was thinking about the latest deal we signed. The first major hurdle is always whether or not the acquired employees got their paychecks on time. And so as I was going through my mental list of things to worry about and I wondered whether or not we had paid everyone (its a difficult job in India - cos we actually want the money to be deposited in their bank accounts - and I must write another item on banks). Then I realized that the deal was only 15 days old. Paychecks aren't due for a whole other 15 days. And yet - so much has been packed into the last 15 that it feels like we've had this account for atleast 6 months !!!
Thank God there haven't been 10 birthdays in the past 10 months !!
Is it good ? is it bad ? I haven't a clue. It just is.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
New Year's Day 2008
Happy New Year !! SMS after SMS trying to say it cuter, better than the previous one. Sometimes you got repeats, some were repeats from last year. The one thing they all had in common was they added to the prosperity of the telecoms.
Last year, I spent New Year's eve with friends, and then New Year's Day and the 2nd of Jan trying to get back home - thanks to the thick fog enveloping Delhi.
I am determined to eliminate fog as a cause of inconvenience this year - so I take flights that are scheduled to land in daylight. So far it has worked.
We were ushering in a new contract in Mumbai over the end of the year, so I decided to park myself there.
Despite the 2nd trip to the ENT at Sadr Bazaar, the throat was doing poorly. So I weighed my options. Go to a party with friends where I am likely to want to talk and laugh - both activities that result in incessant coughing. Drink alcohol which the ENT said was a no-no. Eat fried foods - my favorite - and one that instantly irritates my throat. So eat veggies and no dip, sit quietly and sip warm water and watch others laugh and drink - or crawl under the covers and watch soap operas .
Odd as it may seem - soaps, a comfy bed and room service seemed far more appealing than agitating my throat further . As I was informed by someone - I must be getting old. To prove that this was not true, I decided to have a drink with a good friend at the respectable hour of 7:30pm. The ENT would not begrudge me the one dirnk would he ?
Every restaurant and bar in the hotel was gearing up for the grand party - the bar was open - but they had moved all the chairs out. Old people do not stand and drink - they sit down . So do I !! So we leaned upon the maitre'd at the coffee shop to let us in for a drink. There was a grand buffet and table was set up for the party - with stars sprinkled on the cloth and gorgeous masks for the event later in the evening.
Making conversation with the young server - who wanted to know if we were here for the party - I told her I was Scrooge's granddaughter. To us "old" fogeys this seemed like a very funny and appropriate statement of my state of mind with respect to partying in the New Year. But the young lady seemed very confused. Any doubt I had about whether or not I was from another time and place vanished when the young lady said she had neither heard of Charles Dickens nor of A Christmas Carol.
Had my drink, and went back to my room. The phone was ringing off the hook. One of my not so young colleagues wanting to discuss a work problem. Done by 10:00 and I got into the red pyjamas with the paw prints and climbed into bed . And the phone rang again. Another colleague, another problem. We were joined by yet another colleague around 11:15. And before I knew it - it was 12:30am. Midnight had come and gone. The New Year was upon us, and I hadn't watched a single soap operat yet !!!
And the SMSes kept flowing, the revellers kept dancing downstairs, and the network switched to a telemarketing show. The cough meds kicked in and I fell into a deep sleep !!!! HAPPY New Year !!!
Last year, I spent New Year's eve with friends, and then New Year's Day and the 2nd of Jan trying to get back home - thanks to the thick fog enveloping Delhi.
I am determined to eliminate fog as a cause of inconvenience this year - so I take flights that are scheduled to land in daylight. So far it has worked.
We were ushering in a new contract in Mumbai over the end of the year, so I decided to park myself there.
Despite the 2nd trip to the ENT at Sadr Bazaar, the throat was doing poorly. So I weighed my options. Go to a party with friends where I am likely to want to talk and laugh - both activities that result in incessant coughing. Drink alcohol which the ENT said was a no-no. Eat fried foods - my favorite - and one that instantly irritates my throat. So eat veggies and no dip, sit quietly and sip warm water and watch others laugh and drink - or crawl under the covers and watch soap operas .
Odd as it may seem - soaps, a comfy bed and room service seemed far more appealing than agitating my throat further . As I was informed by someone - I must be getting old. To prove that this was not true, I decided to have a drink with a good friend at the respectable hour of 7:30pm. The ENT would not begrudge me the one dirnk would he ?
Every restaurant and bar in the hotel was gearing up for the grand party - the bar was open - but they had moved all the chairs out. Old people do not stand and drink - they sit down . So do I !! So we leaned upon the maitre'd at the coffee shop to let us in for a drink. There was a grand buffet and table was set up for the party - with stars sprinkled on the cloth and gorgeous masks for the event later in the evening.
Making conversation with the young server - who wanted to know if we were here for the party - I told her I was Scrooge's granddaughter. To us "old" fogeys this seemed like a very funny and appropriate statement of my state of mind with respect to partying in the New Year. But the young lady seemed very confused. Any doubt I had about whether or not I was from another time and place vanished when the young lady said she had neither heard of Charles Dickens nor of A Christmas Carol.
Had my drink, and went back to my room. The phone was ringing off the hook. One of my not so young colleagues wanting to discuss a work problem. Done by 10:00 and I got into the red pyjamas with the paw prints and climbed into bed . And the phone rang again. Another colleague, another problem. We were joined by yet another colleague around 11:15. And before I knew it - it was 12:30am. Midnight had come and gone. The New Year was upon us, and I hadn't watched a single soap operat yet !!!
And the SMSes kept flowing, the revellers kept dancing downstairs, and the network switched to a telemarketing show. The cough meds kicked in and I fell into a deep sleep !!!! HAPPY New Year !!!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The ENT at Sadr Bazaar
It is December and winter is upon us. I cannot believe I looked forward to this during the 120 degree days of summer. But here it is. And along with it, as they say in Delhi, "meri to bolti band ho gaye" - roughly translated it means I've lost my voice. Acute uppper respiratory stress. I can neither laugh nor speak without coughing.
This happened to me 2 years ago - what seemed like a benign cough in Nov that did not leave until Feb. Lots of people go around Delhi assuming this is how it is to be. A cold is a natural part of winter. Silly me - I like to laugh, i like to talk and I think I'm entitled to a healthy respiratory system.
So I went along with the usual cockail of meds in my medicine chest - Tylenol, Nyquil, Motrin, Benadryl.......... and when 2 days later things seeemed worse rather than better, I called my cousin Bana to ask her what I should do. Go to the impressive Privat Hospital next door ?
She and Amit were unanimous - go see the ENT Specialist that they consult. They have tried a number of different ENTs over the years, and they have found this one to be the best.
So yesterday morning I went to see the ENT. Bana came along cos she was convinced I would not find the place. After seeing the place, I wonder if it was because she thought that left to myself I would not enter the building / clinic. It certainly was not the kind of place suited to my NRI sensibilities.
Dr. Gera runs his practice in a crowded building on the main street running through Sadr Bazaar the old part of Gurgaon. This is the place that until 5 years ago, was the heart of Gurgaon - a hub for the local villagers to come in for supplies and essentials.
A set of rickety steps leads to his clinic. The waiting room was about 12 feet long by 8 feet. It had 3 rows of benches running the length of the hall, with a reception table in one corner. There were 2 guys huddled over the reception desk.
The waiting hall was jam packed. Bana said not to worry - she would poke her head in first chance she got. The people waiting their turn ranged from laborers to tribal people. The domestic staff at Beverly Park or in DLF Phase 2 for that matter are all more sophisticated than the people in that hallway. Traffic in and out of the doctor's cubicle was fast - the line of some 10 people vanished right in front of us and before Bana had a chance to poke her head in we were being ushered in.
The office itself was about 8 feet wide and no more than 4 feet deep. The doc sat facing a computer and his testing equipment in the corner. The desk with 2 waiting chairs remaining largely unused. He asked me to sit on his examination stool. The exam was finished in 1 minute. He spent the remaining 9 minutes catching up with Bana, telling us about the comparitive merits of the Paras Hospital vs the brand new Alchemist. . About how Paras made a consulting physician waste their time because they opened their OT so late... how is a doctor to make any money if he cannot get to his dispensary on time ? Interspersed with that were questions about my medical history and explanations of my symptoms.
Several times the "compounder" poked his head in, each time with a more agitated look on his face. We finally took our leave.
They would not take my INR 300 professional courtesy - what with Bana being a doctor and all.
I had noticed all the other patients being charged between 200 and 600. At an average of 1 patient every 5 minutes (and there was certainly the traffic to sustain that) and office hours some 5 hours a day, 6 days a week - that would come out to some 72,000 INR a month a little shy of US$2000 . Maybe my math is wrong ? Maybe he has another source of income ?
While we were inside, the line had grown to standing room only, so I am sure the guys at the reception desk were happy to see us leave.
The pharmacy was adjacent to the doctor's office. They had everything but the cough syrup... and surprisingly, there was another pharmacy 2 doors down that had it.
So in one stop and in under 30 mins I had consulted with a specialist got all my meds and was on my way back home. Amazing - sometimes I've waited that long in the GP's examination room, in Poughkeepsie, waiting for the doctor to show up.
And once again I am amazed by the efficiency of resource utilization and private enterprise in India.
And yes, the meds he recommeded are working - I am on the mend. By the end of the week I may even have my bolti back.
This happened to me 2 years ago - what seemed like a benign cough in Nov that did not leave until Feb. Lots of people go around Delhi assuming this is how it is to be. A cold is a natural part of winter. Silly me - I like to laugh, i like to talk and I think I'm entitled to a healthy respiratory system.
So I went along with the usual cockail of meds in my medicine chest - Tylenol, Nyquil, Motrin, Benadryl.......... and when 2 days later things seeemed worse rather than better, I called my cousin Bana to ask her what I should do. Go to the impressive Privat Hospital next door ?
She and Amit were unanimous - go see the ENT Specialist that they consult. They have tried a number of different ENTs over the years, and they have found this one to be the best.
So yesterday morning I went to see the ENT. Bana came along cos she was convinced I would not find the place. After seeing the place, I wonder if it was because she thought that left to myself I would not enter the building / clinic. It certainly was not the kind of place suited to my NRI sensibilities.
Dr. Gera runs his practice in a crowded building on the main street running through Sadr Bazaar the old part of Gurgaon. This is the place that until 5 years ago, was the heart of Gurgaon - a hub for the local villagers to come in for supplies and essentials.
A set of rickety steps leads to his clinic. The waiting room was about 12 feet long by 8 feet. It had 3 rows of benches running the length of the hall, with a reception table in one corner. There were 2 guys huddled over the reception desk.
The waiting hall was jam packed. Bana said not to worry - she would poke her head in first chance she got. The people waiting their turn ranged from laborers to tribal people. The domestic staff at Beverly Park or in DLF Phase 2 for that matter are all more sophisticated than the people in that hallway. Traffic in and out of the doctor's cubicle was fast - the line of some 10 people vanished right in front of us and before Bana had a chance to poke her head in we were being ushered in.
The office itself was about 8 feet wide and no more than 4 feet deep. The doc sat facing a computer and his testing equipment in the corner. The desk with 2 waiting chairs remaining largely unused. He asked me to sit on his examination stool. The exam was finished in 1 minute. He spent the remaining 9 minutes catching up with Bana, telling us about the comparitive merits of the Paras Hospital vs the brand new Alchemist. . About how Paras made a consulting physician waste their time because they opened their OT so late... how is a doctor to make any money if he cannot get to his dispensary on time ? Interspersed with that were questions about my medical history and explanations of my symptoms.
Several times the "compounder" poked his head in, each time with a more agitated look on his face. We finally took our leave.
They would not take my INR 300 professional courtesy - what with Bana being a doctor and all.
I had noticed all the other patients being charged between 200 and 600. At an average of 1 patient every 5 minutes (and there was certainly the traffic to sustain that) and office hours some 5 hours a day, 6 days a week - that would come out to some 72,000 INR a month a little shy of US$2000 . Maybe my math is wrong ? Maybe he has another source of income ?
While we were inside, the line had grown to standing room only, so I am sure the guys at the reception desk were happy to see us leave.
The pharmacy was adjacent to the doctor's office. They had everything but the cough syrup... and surprisingly, there was another pharmacy 2 doors down that had it.
So in one stop and in under 30 mins I had consulted with a specialist got all my meds and was on my way back home. Amazing - sometimes I've waited that long in the GP's examination room, in Poughkeepsie, waiting for the doctor to show up.
And once again I am amazed by the efficiency of resource utilization and private enterprise in India.
And yes, the meds he recommeded are working - I am on the mend. By the end of the week I may even have my bolti back.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Shopping along Gurgaon's Killer Highway
NH-8 which connects Delhi to Jaipur runs through Gurgaon. The Haldiram factory with its beautiful lawns is a place at which most tourists stop for a breakfast of puri and aloo subzi on their way. In the last 2 years this has gone from being a 4 lane parking lot to a modern 8 lane highway.
On most parts of the highway anyway. In the old city of Gurgaon by the Rajeev Gandhi Chowk and the Hero Honda factory it is still a very densely populated 4 lane parking lot. Humanity teems onto the street in cars, trucks, buses, auto and cycle rickshaws, bicycles and other 2 wheelers, and on foot. Cows, dogs, sheep, goats all join them in the migratory path towards Rajasthan. As a matter of fact, the shepherds and cowherds of Rajasthan used to travel up this road to the Gurgaon region in search of green pastures. You see the herds grazing on the various open spaces outside the city.
Earlier this used to be just a very irritating road to traverse. Now it has turned deadly. The wide luxurious highway has been welcomed by the people of this region with enthusiasm and joy. People zip down this road at 100 or 120 KMPH. The most frequent cause of car fatalities then occurs as the car spins out of control as its tires burst ! The 2nd most frequent cause is when they ram at full speed into a stalled vehicle on the highway. The third is when the pedestrians bravely attempt to cross the highway. In the crowded Hero Honda chowk area it is still the old fashioned speeding truck mowing down the plucky pedestrian, or the little car that gets jammed between 2 larger slow moving vehicles. And hence the term "Killer Highway".
I was travelling along this highway earlier this week - returning from the Manesar Heritage Village - it used to be a resort literally in the middle of nowhere and gained popularity as a venue for corporate training programs. Now Manesar is turning into a full fledged technology park as people relocate there in the quest for some fresh air.
I was returning from our StepUP training program there - and for a change this was in broad daylight. As the traffic slowed in the semi-urban area of the Hero Honda chowk i started to examine the shops lining the highway. This is what in Haldwani we call the Bajaar.
First thing I saw was a Milk Dairy. Now having seen the herds along the way, and recognizing that this was a rural area - I was looking for a Goregaon style tabela replete with cows / buffaloes and fresh milk being sold out the store front. Alas - no cows - just big containers of milk. Perhaps the cows were further away.
Krishna Greens with the picture of a beautiful lawn on the signboard caught my attention next. I tried to figure out what they might be selling. As I looked down towards the counter I saw they were actually selling greens - leafy green bhajis of different kinds, cabbages, cauliflowers...... I thought my mind was playing tricks with me - how could the villagers of Gurgaon be buying greens - and the picture looked like lawns - was it grass seed ? Why would they buy it in a store. It was only when I saw the 3rd one that I realized that Krishna Greens was in the business of installing lawns. The vegetable stall owner probably made more money from the advertising revenue .
Past usual chai, mithai and samosa shops was a sign that had me catch my breath - SAIL shop. Not boat but SAIL. There are frequent sightings of camels - the ship of the desert - in this part of the world - but a SAIL shop. And they weren't stocked with any sailboats as far I could see. Across the street was another, larger SAIL shop - and that is when I realized - SAIL is the Steel Authority of India Ltd - SAIL is a "brand" of Steel - distinct from the one sold by Tata Steel.
Away from Rajeev Chowk and as one approaches the urban, modern Gurgaon you see the tribal people of Rajasthan who have set out their very colorful and beautiful pieces of hand thrown blue pottery. They set their shop up in the dirt by the side of the road. Finally, something I can relate to!!! And then before I know it I am turning into IFFCO Chowk and onto MG Road home of the big glitzy malls. Just as crowded and chaotic as the Bajaar near the Hero Honda plant - but oh so much more expensive !!
On most parts of the highway anyway. In the old city of Gurgaon by the Rajeev Gandhi Chowk and the Hero Honda factory it is still a very densely populated 4 lane parking lot. Humanity teems onto the street in cars, trucks, buses, auto and cycle rickshaws, bicycles and other 2 wheelers, and on foot. Cows, dogs, sheep, goats all join them in the migratory path towards Rajasthan. As a matter of fact, the shepherds and cowherds of Rajasthan used to travel up this road to the Gurgaon region in search of green pastures. You see the herds grazing on the various open spaces outside the city.
Earlier this used to be just a very irritating road to traverse. Now it has turned deadly. The wide luxurious highway has been welcomed by the people of this region with enthusiasm and joy. People zip down this road at 100 or 120 KMPH. The most frequent cause of car fatalities then occurs as the car spins out of control as its tires burst ! The 2nd most frequent cause is when they ram at full speed into a stalled vehicle on the highway. The third is when the pedestrians bravely attempt to cross the highway. In the crowded Hero Honda chowk area it is still the old fashioned speeding truck mowing down the plucky pedestrian, or the little car that gets jammed between 2 larger slow moving vehicles. And hence the term "Killer Highway".
I was travelling along this highway earlier this week - returning from the Manesar Heritage Village - it used to be a resort literally in the middle of nowhere and gained popularity as a venue for corporate training programs. Now Manesar is turning into a full fledged technology park as people relocate there in the quest for some fresh air.
I was returning from our StepUP training program there - and for a change this was in broad daylight. As the traffic slowed in the semi-urban area of the Hero Honda chowk i started to examine the shops lining the highway. This is what in Haldwani we call the Bajaar.
First thing I saw was a Milk Dairy. Now having seen the herds along the way, and recognizing that this was a rural area - I was looking for a Goregaon style tabela replete with cows / buffaloes and fresh milk being sold out the store front. Alas - no cows - just big containers of milk. Perhaps the cows were further away.
Krishna Greens with the picture of a beautiful lawn on the signboard caught my attention next. I tried to figure out what they might be selling. As I looked down towards the counter I saw they were actually selling greens - leafy green bhajis of different kinds, cabbages, cauliflowers...... I thought my mind was playing tricks with me - how could the villagers of Gurgaon be buying greens - and the picture looked like lawns - was it grass seed ? Why would they buy it in a store. It was only when I saw the 3rd one that I realized that Krishna Greens was in the business of installing lawns. The vegetable stall owner probably made more money from the advertising revenue .
Past usual chai, mithai and samosa shops was a sign that had me catch my breath - SAIL shop. Not boat but SAIL. There are frequent sightings of camels - the ship of the desert - in this part of the world - but a SAIL shop. And they weren't stocked with any sailboats as far I could see. Across the street was another, larger SAIL shop - and that is when I realized - SAIL is the Steel Authority of India Ltd - SAIL is a "brand" of Steel - distinct from the one sold by Tata Steel.
Away from Rajeev Chowk and as one approaches the urban, modern Gurgaon you see the tribal people of Rajasthan who have set out their very colorful and beautiful pieces of hand thrown blue pottery. They set their shop up in the dirt by the side of the road. Finally, something I can relate to!!! And then before I know it I am turning into IFFCO Chowk and onto MG Road home of the big glitzy malls. Just as crowded and chaotic as the Bajaar near the Hero Honda plant - but oh so much more expensive !!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Suspended Time
24 hours after I have left my home in Gurgaon, I arrive tired and rumpled at my home in Stormville. Sure enough the weeds have taken over the garden. The deer have broken down the protective mesh which is now strewn on the walkway. The reeds have grown in nicely in the back - but the bushes by the garage are way overgrown. A few rays of sunlight make it through the clouds. It is a freezing 37 degrees.
There is not a soul around. Nor another car in sight. Just a bunch of quiet houses, with lots of green yards and lots of grey sky.
I feel a sense of quiet and peace that I have not been able to experience at any yoga or meditation session. I am home.
I wrestle my suitcase up the driveway (no Mukesh to carry it) and up the steps, fumble for the keys and unlock the front door. Ahh yes, I'd set the temperature inside at 50 degrees - warmer than the outside - so why are my teeth chattering.
I spot my favorite blue rug, I walk into my office with all the books I have left behind......I move onto the kitchen with the big old table that we've had happy family get togethers around - can someone please tell me why I live in Gurgaon again ?
Later in the afternoon, I drive down to the gas station - a full 3 miles away - to pick up some milk and bread - its great to be home but there is no edible food in this house. Again that sense of complete freedom - when I drive myself to pick up my own stuff to run my errands without having to depend on someone else . Later I will cook my own food, exactly the way I like it, with the utensils I have collected painstakingly over the years. I shall lay in front of the giant TV and while away the evening doing absolutely nothing, answerable to absolutely no one. Yes....... this is the good life !
Well that was about a week ago. 2 days of peace and quiet and I was ready for some shopping action. I spent the day in town cruising through all my favorite stores - completing my various errands. Then I spent another day lazing around.
And suddenly I am done. I am ready to join the land of the living - reconnect with family and friends, even do a PM Cadence call - hmm was I really missing work ? Good timing - had to get to Toledo to see Grandpa and the rest of the family.
3 days in Toledo in the warmth of family. And now once again I am back at the airport waiting to board a flight back to Gurgaon. Rejuvenated and ready to take on the world !!
There is not a soul around. Nor another car in sight. Just a bunch of quiet houses, with lots of green yards and lots of grey sky.
I feel a sense of quiet and peace that I have not been able to experience at any yoga or meditation session. I am home.
I wrestle my suitcase up the driveway (no Mukesh to carry it) and up the steps, fumble for the keys and unlock the front door. Ahh yes, I'd set the temperature inside at 50 degrees - warmer than the outside - so why are my teeth chattering.
I spot my favorite blue rug, I walk into my office with all the books I have left behind......I move onto the kitchen with the big old table that we've had happy family get togethers around - can someone please tell me why I live in Gurgaon again ?
Later in the afternoon, I drive down to the gas station - a full 3 miles away - to pick up some milk and bread - its great to be home but there is no edible food in this house. Again that sense of complete freedom - when I drive myself to pick up my own stuff to run my errands without having to depend on someone else . Later I will cook my own food, exactly the way I like it, with the utensils I have collected painstakingly over the years. I shall lay in front of the giant TV and while away the evening doing absolutely nothing, answerable to absolutely no one. Yes....... this is the good life !
Well that was about a week ago. 2 days of peace and quiet and I was ready for some shopping action. I spent the day in town cruising through all my favorite stores - completing my various errands. Then I spent another day lazing around.
And suddenly I am done. I am ready to join the land of the living - reconnect with family and friends, even do a PM Cadence call - hmm was I really missing work ? Good timing - had to get to Toledo to see Grandpa and the rest of the family.
3 days in Toledo in the warmth of family. And now once again I am back at the airport waiting to board a flight back to Gurgaon. Rejuvenated and ready to take on the world !!
Homeward Bound!
“I’m sitting at the railway station, got a ticket for my destination… hmmm
For going I’m a homeward bound…Ho-o-omeward bound ….”
I’ve forgotten the words to the old Simon and Garfunkel hit but the tune and the sentiment resonate – deep – as I sit at the promised to soon be renovated Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. Something about sitting on my suitcase, holding my guitar and other stuff in my hand, and I don’t really care cos I am homeward bound.
So this is probably the 5th or 6th trip I am making from Delhi to Chicago in 30 months. And yet the sentiment holds. I don’t really know why. I am leaving a pleasant sunny climate for a freezing cold place. I will go home to a house that has sat empty with the heat turned off since I was last there in May. The garden I installed with such anticipation will be overrun by weeds. There will be no chauffeur, there will be no maids – I will have to fend for myself. So what is it about going home that fills me with such optimism and anticipation?
Surely, it isn’t the Delhi Airport – On my way over I was talking to my cousin Bana – I was giving her a yard by yard traffic report – telling her about how I was going to have to fight my way into the airport – past the people with the big NRI-sized suitcases and the throngs of weeping relatives. I told her I thought these people came to see their relatives off in buses. Even as I said it I thought I was being a little unreasonable. But then I saw this green bus in front of me. And another one in front of it. And what do you know – there were busloads of villagers climbing out – several were working their way into the airport !!
I managed to find a fast path in – don’t ask how, I will never be able to recall all the steps – but before I knew it – between my suitcase and my feet wide apart stance I was covering a wide area of the entry way and had become difficult to go past – imagine me – blocking all the high octane NRI sized suitcase wallahs out, elbowing and edging with the best of them.
I entered the airport and made a beeline for the baggage screening machine. This time I only waited till the 3rd guy shoved his bags onto the conveyor out of line – before asking the attendant ‘exactly which queuing algorithm was being followed here’ – I’ve been grumpy lately – am tired of people taking advantage of my good will – I suspect the long dormant asli original Indian Hema – the one that got snuffed out by the polite refinement of pardes - is getting ready to emerge. Needless to say – my bag made it in next.
I checked in – and made my way up to the lounge that American Airlines uses – as usual more people there than chairs - some smoking. I decided the lounge invite was not worth the paper it was printed on and made my way through immigration and security instead. Miraculously empty. First time I’ve strolled through both at Delhi – no waiting no fuss.
I try to spend some money in the shops. For some reason I cannot. I am tired of the same old marble plates, ganesh statues and jewelry. I wonder if this is again my basic bania instinct kicking in – or just the asli Hema emerging.
I find a seat in the waiting hall and look around. The mosquitoes are out in force this evening. Is malaria inevitable ? I’ve been bitten more in the last 6 months than I’ve been my whole life.
There are a lot of kids at the airport.. and mothers. Lots of foreigners too. I try to sit there minding my own business – but that is not to be. People walking up to me and asking if the seat is taken – uh the one I am sitting in ?
So I pull out my laptop and start to write this blog. The crowds are getting thicker. There is a very long line for the AA flight. I wonder if I will get upgraded to first. Thank God I was able to get a seat in Business class. I still shudder to think of the Thanksgiving trip 2 years ago – I got the last seat on the airplane – literally. It was in coach - the middle seat in the last row – adjacent to the bathrooms, despite being willing to pay for business class. 15 hours in the middle seat next to the bathroom. Shudder shudder – American Hema very much here and present.
I am sitting on an end seat. There is a flight to SGP leaving from the gate on my left. There is my flight leaving from the gate to my right. People have queued up on both sides. In a strange twist the 2 queues run the length of the hall and cross somewhere in the middle. So you have to cut through the SGP line to get to the AA line. This is just like the crowd at the Sikandarpur intersection in Gurgaon – traffic coming to a standstill in the junction as cars try to traverse an X.
It is midnight now – and I am fighting to stay awake. A tiny part of me wonders how I will ever make it to the plane – there are so many people in front of me and the line looks like it is moving in a circle. Another part says just go to sleep. And the guju says you’re traveling premium class, your bags are checked in – they will come look for you. Who knows ?
So I am back to my question – what is it about going home ? As a matter of fact where is home ? San Diego –the place I want to live in when I am ready to die ? Stormville – the place in the middle of the jungle where I keep most of my worldly belongings ? My parents home in Kandivali? The place I rent in Gurgaon where Salyani keeps all her worldly belongings ? The Grand Hyatt in Mumbai where I spend several nights each week ? Marina del Rey, CA ? Toledo, Oh ? Memphis Tn ? Rochester, NY where I should have made my home ? Bandra where I spent the first 20+ years of my life ? The airport where I spend a good part of my life ? And I stumble upon it. … Home is where I am.
So why am I so excited about going home ? I don’t know. I just know I am willing to put up with whatever it takes – crowded Delhi airport, unruly passengers, an oversold flight, al the work that will pile up – to get home. I haven't a clue. All I know is that I am homeward bound and there's a song in my heart and a lightness in my step that I haven't felt since the last time.
For going I’m a homeward bound…Ho-o-omeward bound ….”
I’ve forgotten the words to the old Simon and Garfunkel hit but the tune and the sentiment resonate – deep – as I sit at the promised to soon be renovated Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. Something about sitting on my suitcase, holding my guitar and other stuff in my hand, and I don’t really care cos I am homeward bound.
So this is probably the 5th or 6th trip I am making from Delhi to Chicago in 30 months. And yet the sentiment holds. I don’t really know why. I am leaving a pleasant sunny climate for a freezing cold place. I will go home to a house that has sat empty with the heat turned off since I was last there in May. The garden I installed with such anticipation will be overrun by weeds. There will be no chauffeur, there will be no maids – I will have to fend for myself. So what is it about going home that fills me with such optimism and anticipation?
Surely, it isn’t the Delhi Airport – On my way over I was talking to my cousin Bana – I was giving her a yard by yard traffic report – telling her about how I was going to have to fight my way into the airport – past the people with the big NRI-sized suitcases and the throngs of weeping relatives. I told her I thought these people came to see their relatives off in buses. Even as I said it I thought I was being a little unreasonable. But then I saw this green bus in front of me. And another one in front of it. And what do you know – there were busloads of villagers climbing out – several were working their way into the airport !!
I managed to find a fast path in – don’t ask how, I will never be able to recall all the steps – but before I knew it – between my suitcase and my feet wide apart stance I was covering a wide area of the entry way and had become difficult to go past – imagine me – blocking all the high octane NRI sized suitcase wallahs out, elbowing and edging with the best of them.
I entered the airport and made a beeline for the baggage screening machine. This time I only waited till the 3rd guy shoved his bags onto the conveyor out of line – before asking the attendant ‘exactly which queuing algorithm was being followed here’ – I’ve been grumpy lately – am tired of people taking advantage of my good will – I suspect the long dormant asli original Indian Hema – the one that got snuffed out by the polite refinement of pardes - is getting ready to emerge. Needless to say – my bag made it in next.
I checked in – and made my way up to the lounge that American Airlines uses – as usual more people there than chairs - some smoking. I decided the lounge invite was not worth the paper it was printed on and made my way through immigration and security instead. Miraculously empty. First time I’ve strolled through both at Delhi – no waiting no fuss.
I try to spend some money in the shops. For some reason I cannot. I am tired of the same old marble plates, ganesh statues and jewelry. I wonder if this is again my basic bania instinct kicking in – or just the asli Hema emerging.
I find a seat in the waiting hall and look around. The mosquitoes are out in force this evening. Is malaria inevitable ? I’ve been bitten more in the last 6 months than I’ve been my whole life.
There are a lot of kids at the airport.. and mothers. Lots of foreigners too. I try to sit there minding my own business – but that is not to be. People walking up to me and asking if the seat is taken – uh the one I am sitting in ?
So I pull out my laptop and start to write this blog. The crowds are getting thicker. There is a very long line for the AA flight. I wonder if I will get upgraded to first. Thank God I was able to get a seat in Business class. I still shudder to think of the Thanksgiving trip 2 years ago – I got the last seat on the airplane – literally. It was in coach - the middle seat in the last row – adjacent to the bathrooms, despite being willing to pay for business class. 15 hours in the middle seat next to the bathroom. Shudder shudder – American Hema very much here and present.
I am sitting on an end seat. There is a flight to SGP leaving from the gate on my left. There is my flight leaving from the gate to my right. People have queued up on both sides. In a strange twist the 2 queues run the length of the hall and cross somewhere in the middle. So you have to cut through the SGP line to get to the AA line. This is just like the crowd at the Sikandarpur intersection in Gurgaon – traffic coming to a standstill in the junction as cars try to traverse an X.
It is midnight now – and I am fighting to stay awake. A tiny part of me wonders how I will ever make it to the plane – there are so many people in front of me and the line looks like it is moving in a circle. Another part says just go to sleep. And the guju says you’re traveling premium class, your bags are checked in – they will come look for you. Who knows ?
So I am back to my question – what is it about going home ? As a matter of fact where is home ? San Diego –the place I want to live in when I am ready to die ? Stormville – the place in the middle of the jungle where I keep most of my worldly belongings ? My parents home in Kandivali? The place I rent in Gurgaon where Salyani keeps all her worldly belongings ? The Grand Hyatt in Mumbai where I spend several nights each week ? Marina del Rey, CA ? Toledo, Oh ? Memphis Tn ? Rochester, NY where I should have made my home ? Bandra where I spent the first 20+ years of my life ? The airport where I spend a good part of my life ? And I stumble upon it. … Home is where I am.
So why am I so excited about going home ? I don’t know. I just know I am willing to put up with whatever it takes – crowded Delhi airport, unruly passengers, an oversold flight, al the work that will pile up – to get home. I haven't a clue. All I know is that I am homeward bound and there's a song in my heart and a lightness in my step that I haven't felt since the last time.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Gap Analysis Delhi-ishtyle
I first learnt about gap analysis on I-5 on the wide freeway that runs through Southern California. On the long ride from Los Angeles to San Diego - one can keep an eye on the beach or one can watch for all the gaps or variances in traffic patterns in any particular lane. These variances or gaps offer you the opportunity to pull ahead of the crowd.
According to Salim, the master of gap analysis on the CA Freeways, gap analysis makes the otherwise long and stressful drive a game, a challenge that makes the time melt away.
By the way, I disagree. I think gap analysis and its consequences take away from the sheer pleasure of driving along the coast - but then that is only the opinion of a passenger.
As is the following - cos even after having lived in Delhi for 2.5 years I will not drive on the streets of Delhi. Though I must say I am starting to become increasingly familiar with how things work.
But first a word about ishtlye - yes you might find buried in there the word style - but that is just the way the high faluting anglicized minority say it. If you are a true local that went to the is-school, then you have ish-style and ish-attitude and ish-savvy (ok plain attitude and savvy) that helps you survive and thrive in this city. The only thing that I as an outsider have is envy for the people who do.
So back to Gap Analysis. In Southern California - the highway has a median, 10 clearly marked lanes, and a homogenous collection of traffic - hondas, chevys, fords, toyotas, pickup trucks, sedans, buses, SUVs, freight trucks. There is a lot of opportunity for gaps, and it is upto the watchful driver to find and take advantage of the same.
In Delhi - Gap Analysis goes to a whole new level.
It isn't like there is 1 extra dimension , or even 2 . yes, there are 10 lanes - none of them clearly marked.
As a matter of fact only 2 are clearly marked - the rest are created by ingenious drivers. Some of them are not even paved and may include driving over emergency lanes, sidewalks, bike paths, dirt, rocks, stones, garbage and sometimes , regretably, a dog or cow. The rows resemble a brick wall more so than they do a traffic lane as cars wedge themselves into every available spot. The lanes are not discernible from the ground - but I am sure you would see them if you flew high enough up into the air.
The traffic is homogenous - trucks, sedans, SUVs, buses (killer and DTC) and then for a twist - motorcycles, scooters, bicycles (motorized and not), auto rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, hand carts, push carts, jugaads (locomotive engine attached to a container to hold people. animals or material), people.
This is compounded by the fact that some of Delhi's legal and illegal encroachments try to compete for a space on the road with the automobiles. Perhaps some ambitious person hopes to get these to participate in the traffic as well. The government has other plans and is trying to condemn and demolish them.
So in this complex sea of automobiles... pulling ahead, making right turns, exiting and entering a highway - all these would be huge challenges for the uninitiated. But there is a syshtem.. that takes my breath away (literally).
Just as in the jungle every type of animal has a role to play in the overall ecosystem, so it is on the streets of Delhi.
So for example consider how a right turn is made. The big truck or SUV inches towards the intersection offering blockage from people trying to pass on the right. The smaller cars line up to its right forming another barrier that extends a little ahead and behind. To its right the motorcycles, scooters and bicycles pull forward forcing the oncoming traffic to slow down - then the big guys all pull into the intersection and you have flow !!!
Everybody moves at about 5 mph (yes lots of burnt clutch plates in this city) so if there is a little nick here a dent there - no big deal - no real risk to life. Occasionally a limb gets entangled - but that is the price you pay.
Similarly the gaps - the little guys work in tandem with the big guys to create and open up the pathways - blaze new trails - and magically all available (sometimes unavailable) space is consumed forcing the traffic forward.
And they are all very comfortable with this friendly mix operating in chorus. Take one of the pieces away and you have utter chaos.
Like the one day I saw this motorcycle landlocked in a sea of buses. It was astounding... motorcycles and bikes usually manage to get out of everything but the buses were wedged so tight there wasn't anyway the bike could get out short of hoisting it atop a bus.
The problem we realized was that traffic had been very light that morning. In fact there was no traffic on the opposite side of the road. So a few people decided that that just was not right. It was far too big a gap to waste. The road had to be filled. And so they decided to travel north on a south-bound highway. This worked extremely well until some south bound cars entered the south highway. This raised the game to yet another level as now south and north bound cars traversed both sides of the highway and we had grid lock. Then a bunch of civic minded citizens had to get into the intersection and help the traffic cops sort it out.
Fortunately this is not a frequent occurrence - about 4 times in 2.5 years !!! Yes Gap Analysis in Delhi is a far more sophisticated excercise than anything in Southern California. It will be years before the Americans comprehend or catch up with it !!
According to Salim, the master of gap analysis on the CA Freeways, gap analysis makes the otherwise long and stressful drive a game, a challenge that makes the time melt away.
By the way, I disagree. I think gap analysis and its consequences take away from the sheer pleasure of driving along the coast - but then that is only the opinion of a passenger.
As is the following - cos even after having lived in Delhi for 2.5 years I will not drive on the streets of Delhi. Though I must say I am starting to become increasingly familiar with how things work.
But first a word about ishtlye - yes you might find buried in there the word style - but that is just the way the high faluting anglicized minority say it. If you are a true local that went to the is-school, then you have ish-style and ish-attitude and ish-savvy (ok plain attitude and savvy) that helps you survive and thrive in this city. The only thing that I as an outsider have is envy for the people who do.
So back to Gap Analysis. In Southern California - the highway has a median, 10 clearly marked lanes, and a homogenous collection of traffic - hondas, chevys, fords, toyotas, pickup trucks, sedans, buses, SUVs, freight trucks. There is a lot of opportunity for gaps, and it is upto the watchful driver to find and take advantage of the same.
In Delhi - Gap Analysis goes to a whole new level.
It isn't like there is 1 extra dimension , or even 2 . yes, there are 10 lanes - none of them clearly marked.
As a matter of fact only 2 are clearly marked - the rest are created by ingenious drivers. Some of them are not even paved and may include driving over emergency lanes, sidewalks, bike paths, dirt, rocks, stones, garbage and sometimes , regretably, a dog or cow. The rows resemble a brick wall more so than they do a traffic lane as cars wedge themselves into every available spot. The lanes are not discernible from the ground - but I am sure you would see them if you flew high enough up into the air.
The traffic is homogenous - trucks, sedans, SUVs, buses (killer and DTC) and then for a twist - motorcycles, scooters, bicycles (motorized and not), auto rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, hand carts, push carts, jugaads (locomotive engine attached to a container to hold people. animals or material), people.
This is compounded by the fact that some of Delhi's legal and illegal encroachments try to compete for a space on the road with the automobiles. Perhaps some ambitious person hopes to get these to participate in the traffic as well. The government has other plans and is trying to condemn and demolish them.
So in this complex sea of automobiles... pulling ahead, making right turns, exiting and entering a highway - all these would be huge challenges for the uninitiated. But there is a syshtem.. that takes my breath away (literally).
Just as in the jungle every type of animal has a role to play in the overall ecosystem, so it is on the streets of Delhi.
So for example consider how a right turn is made. The big truck or SUV inches towards the intersection offering blockage from people trying to pass on the right. The smaller cars line up to its right forming another barrier that extends a little ahead and behind. To its right the motorcycles, scooters and bicycles pull forward forcing the oncoming traffic to slow down - then the big guys all pull into the intersection and you have flow !!!
Everybody moves at about 5 mph (yes lots of burnt clutch plates in this city) so if there is a little nick here a dent there - no big deal - no real risk to life. Occasionally a limb gets entangled - but that is the price you pay.
Similarly the gaps - the little guys work in tandem with the big guys to create and open up the pathways - blaze new trails - and magically all available (sometimes unavailable) space is consumed forcing the traffic forward.
And they are all very comfortable with this friendly mix operating in chorus. Take one of the pieces away and you have utter chaos.
Like the one day I saw this motorcycle landlocked in a sea of buses. It was astounding... motorcycles and bikes usually manage to get out of everything but the buses were wedged so tight there wasn't anyway the bike could get out short of hoisting it atop a bus.
The problem we realized was that traffic had been very light that morning. In fact there was no traffic on the opposite side of the road. So a few people decided that that just was not right. It was far too big a gap to waste. The road had to be filled. And so they decided to travel north on a south-bound highway. This worked extremely well until some south bound cars entered the south highway. This raised the game to yet another level as now south and north bound cars traversed both sides of the highway and we had grid lock. Then a bunch of civic minded citizens had to get into the intersection and help the traffic cops sort it out.
Fortunately this is not a frequent occurrence - about 4 times in 2.5 years !!! Yes Gap Analysis in Delhi is a far more sophisticated excercise than anything in Southern California. It will be years before the Americans comprehend or catch up with it !!
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