The Magic Masala of MTV

Absolute numbers often don't represent a true picture. Take MTV for instance. Glance through its TRP ratings. What do you get? Something as hazy as a hazy picture.

India has been the last frontier for not just a certain Steve Waugh. It has been the waterloo for many an international brand, the associated brand managers being no great exceptions either. MTV's focus seemed to be compromised under the vision of its western parents. An Indian baptisation followed, and what we have is one delicious treat after another, all dished out by creative whizkids in teens, tights or otherwise from MTV India.

Ever since escaping a slow and painful death from malnutrition in the Indian terrain, MTV has been a personal favourite of mine. The juggernaut started with the gag flicked from Candid Camera, Bakra. Pulling off fast ones on populace cauht unawares, the show has proved to be more than a fashion or a fad. Questions were thrown on how long the craze would sustain. The answer is clear for all to see: the end doesn't seem to be in sight within the horizon. Bakra has come back with a vengeance. Baap of Bakra. Everyone has a shot at playing, and you can almost never second guess which way the plot will twist. Like son, like father they say. The best part: Cyrus Brocha.

But the story doesn't end here. Apart from achieveing many a tie-up with movie producers, music magnates and budding artists to showcase exclusively on the channel, MTV constantly renovates its stable. Housefull, Khamosh and the likes have undergone several changes in outlook without the essence of the show getting affected.

Newer and more exciting ones keep showing up. Take 'Pidhu the Great' for instance. Modelled on the wisecracks and one-liners of the unstoppable cricketer-turned numero uno commentator Navjot Sidhu, the show is now omnipresent on the channel. Well, I can't say with complete certainty the reason for it being shown several times a day is its extreme levels of popularity, but I would certainly like to think so. For those who enjoy PJ's (double take: Pidhu Joke) and metaphors from bizzare-land, this is your one-stop shop.

A small sample to identify the discerning: A balanced diet is a parantha in each hand! This one found its way into my hall-of-fame status messages in gtalk. Wow! you must be thinking :P. Or what about this one? What would you refer to Preity Zinta and Ness Wadia after they wed? The answer: Mrs. and Mr. Preity-ness. Ha ha! If you enjoyed this small bit, look no further. Latch on to the show with great gusto! The only problem with the show is that they repeat the same stuff for almost a week before changing the script/comments.

I had the wonderful opportunity of witnessing a 'Cricket Controversies' episode on NDTV with the original Sidhu, the not-so-original Pidhu (Cyrus Sahukar), and Jaddu (Ajay Jadeja). The episode was a rib-tickler to the core. Pidhu sermoned on how he felt Sidhu's statements carried a deeper philosophical meaning, and on his Ph.D in the mating habits of the money plant. Needless to say, the glass of sarcassism was not half-empty.

Let's move on. For a while I almost believed in the proverb: All good things must come to an end. With 'Rendezvous with Semi-Girebaal' making its re-entry come November 13th, I don't anymore. A spoof on the superficiality of the emotions on 'Rendezvous with Simi Garewal' on Star World, the show features Sahukar again, sharing centre-stage with a Mallika Ghirawat or a Kabhishek Bachchan. And you know the best part? The show airs at the same time as the original!

I could perhaps go on, but will refrain from doing so. Mainly because I have run out of what to write, but also because what I have written is best seen. My descriptions would not give one the best possible picture of these great features.

Watch them, and (MTV) enjoy!

The Good Ol' Days

Only 23, and already walking down multiple lanes of nostalgia, tinged of course with pastel shades of amnesia. Yesterday evening, a meeting with a friend turned out to last much longer than anticipated, reminiscing the good old times from not-so-long back. And yes, it was refreshingly different from discussing market trends or picking up nuances of the trade.

I have always preferred stability in some sense or the other. Even while venturing into newer arenas with uncut grass, lest less-trodden, there has always been several uniting factors with experiences, past and beautiful. To put it in more scientific terms, I have always worked under few degrees of freedom.

'Selling fish' as someone from the top management refers to selling boxes is a task that entails rapid action, often at the expense of prior thought. And the end-to-end nature of work implies that at any point of time one is at different points of the cycle in different cases. Time is as scarce as a resource as water on the surface of the moon (pidhuism), and therefore all that one wants to do at the end of a hectic day is to lie down in bed and switch channels. A classic couch potato with a bag of chips in his hand as I like to look at it.

To me, partying, dancing, etc. will never hold as much appeal as long chats in the middle of the night, or after classes in the evenings, often on pretty useless gossip. There might have been a session of besur music emanating from a neighbour's over-stretched vocal cords, but I enjoyed it all the same. Call me crazy, but I'd enjoy all that more than my new-found independence. I might watch the idiot box much more than I could a couple of years back, but at least I could enjoy completely what I was doing, back then. I didn't have to catch up with a movie, and then spend many a sleepless night worrying whether a customer or a superior would screw my happiness. My thoughts now are as random and unorganised as the flow of this post.

I guess this is a totally new phase of life, one filled with insane levels of accountability, and with much higher levels of freedom as well. Who cares? I prefer having neither! As a prominent singer crooned, those were the best days of my life...

Z to A of Business

Three months and a half into the big, bad world. I am certainly not on that pedestal from which I can boast about my ability to tackle and win all the time, but beyond doubt I appear to be getting more adept in reading a situation. As one of my colleagues emphasizes, you have to fall, and fall hard at that if you have got to learn your lessons, and well at that. Well, I am no stranger to this philosophy having experienced it beforehand innumerable times, at times intended. Some fundaes from the red cards I've earnt follow; most of them are nothing but a peek into adult thought pattern.

1. Nothing should be taken on face value.

Customer, to me, today: We are going to finalise it today; we have a huge project next week; let me know what best you can do.
Customer, months later: I am awaiting competition quotes; I shall call you when we are going to finalise the order

Advice to me initially: Do this, do that, and demand
Advice, after action completed: You should not do this and that; never demand, always request

2. Ethos is everything

Who speaks counts more important than what he speaks. Chickenshit from someone successful is nectar; sense from someone not so successful is chickenshit

3. Laws are meant to be broken

Ends justify the means. You are taken through cases where the ethical heroes saving planet earth come up trumps? Why? To showcase what could have been done so that you didn't come on top after a bitter struggle. You break a rule first, and you achieve the ends: you are a hero. You don't follow the rule-breakers: you are a zero. You break a rule first, and you are caught: congrats! you have been designated as the not so official punching bag

4. Law of conservation of asymmetry

Management is not an effort at removing information asymmetry and ambiguity; it is about moulding it to suit your partisan requirements. You do just about fine (not great) if you destroy the asymmetry; you turn it around for your good, well done! Try breaking this law; you'll suck at that.

Who said symmetry was beautiful?

5. Abusive language is cool

What the fuck does that mean?

6. Pass the buck

Always bring a despo or a superior into the picture; complete end-to-end accountability is something that only the naive take up. When the despo or the superior is struggling with an issue, shout from behind, and offer tips on how to overcome the problem that you put them in.

7. Never pass all the above tricks of the trade to anyone else

Oops, did I say too much?

Did I sound anything like Dogbert?

Smooth

On Mount Road, in my not-so-new Activa. Moving back from a customer call post which a post-mortem offered hints of a cold call more than anything else. Twenty metres to the nearest signal.

Wait. The big picture is missing. Twenty metres to the nearest signal, but on the wrong side. A kilometre perhaps to the nearest one on the right, no wait, left side. The daring of a fledgling salesman comes into play; I wonder why it never comes when needed. Anyway it's not a great friend to have. So I go along the edge of the road, on the wrong side of the law some would say. More likely on the wrong side of the median I would think.

Reaching the nearest signal, I try to move along with the traffic in the right direction. Enter the police (mama in local parlance). "Stop, or I will shoot" he says. I start hoping I am an ostrich; I hide my face hoping he can't see me either. Also I'd have kicked him hard if I were one.

Mama to me: Sir, where do you work?
Me to mama: Sir, **

Mama takes a break with a puzzled look. Somewhere inside his head, I heard a thousand IT bubbles burst. Anyway he is brought back into zone reality with a loud horn from a water lorry. A splatter of water on me. I feel a lot cooler.

Maams: Enna sir, ungala maari ezhudi padichavanga ellam indha maari panna eppadi saar?
Me (thinking bubble over my head appears): Wow! I look like an echa-cated man !!!
Maams: Appa-amma ellam enna pannaraanga?
Me: Sir, avanga Madras-la ille sir

Maams: Seri pa, License edu
Me (with all the innocence of yore), pulling out all the licenses I have. Both a license to kill and one to skill are missing. Maams gets shocked. He probably expected me to hand him a cool sum, and ride away to glory, maybe again on the wrong side.

Maams: Fine naanoothi ambadhu theriyuma?
Me: Illai saar
Maams: Adha pay pannaraya?
Me: Saaaaaaarrr...
Maams (turning away): Ennadhu paathu neeye pannu pa

Freeze the frame. Did someone say 'smooth'? I certainly heard it.

I picked a folded 100-rupee note from my not-so-deep pockets, and handed it over. There I understood whey he wears a glove on a hot Madras afternoon. Two palms, gloves and all, wrapped them over the currency note. Neither of them were mine. All done in a fraction of a second, with a sleight of hand. He never even glanced at what I gave. Ah! Mama, the Magic Man

A broad grin on his face. Perhaps his daily targets had been met early that afternoon. Kaasa paatha Gandhi thatha pola naam sirippom? After a re-count, I realised I'd lost a 50-rupee note as well to the law. Direct taxes, they say.

I didn't have to imagine his even broader grin for long. I saw it again that evening, facing another unsuspecting motorcyclist.

C*n*o*ed

You know the censor board, don't you? They want all forms of obscenity, existent or non-existent to be erased or blanked, as applicable and possible from movies. As an adolescent this troubled me to no end.

Don't get me wrong: I just wanted to imbibe the nitty-gritties of foul language, to be used on unsuspecting victims! 23 now, and approaching 24 by the second, it makes a lot more sense to me. I am perhaps a tad more inclined to buy the rationale that kids might be affected, irrespective of counter-arguements that movies shown at 3 am are unlikely to be watched by anyone other than me on Saturday nights, or that sources aremultiple in nature, unlike the days of yore.

Anyway a couple of days back, I witnessed what can only be termed as an extreme manifestation of the elaborate and almost-extinct act of censoring. I was catching up with a movie on one of the English movie channels. There was a scene where the lead characters of the movie examine a nude drawing. The drawing was blurred by those with the censor scissors at their disposal! I have no ideas whether to laugh or to cry. You tell me.

My biggest worry in life was that when I marry and have kids, they might get spolit watching wrong stuff on television. I think I am not concerned any more :)

A series of unfortunate events

Last week I was watching a documentary-type of film on Zee Studio. I think it was titled 'The path to 9/11'. It was supposedly a dramatised, part-fictionalised version of what transpired in the run-up to one of the worst tragedies in recent times. Anyway it was worth the watch, and kept me absorbed, in fact so absorbed that I dare not change the channel to watch an exciting game of football involving my favourite, Chelsea FC.

The leading protagonist of the movie (no, not a bad guy) was one of those characters whom you feel for. Sometimes I feel for such people even more than I feel bad for the millions of the poor and suffering. But why exactly? This particular guy (Mr. 'O Neil, according to the movie) is one of the very few unfortunate guys who undeservedly fall from the wuthering heights they have reached through sheer determination.

Mr. 'O Neil was the with the top echelons of the CIA until the month before the ghastly attacks. He is booted out of the CIA for extreme levels of aggressiveness in dealing with potential threats: a course of action that appears more than justified in hindsight. He is in fact, a key reason why a couple of potential kamikaze pilots end up trapped on the wrong side of the law. Translate that into the Sears Tower or Empire State Building escaping attacks.

Ironically, our lead character is appointed as head of security for the Twin Towers. Mr. 'O Neil briefs his new staff on the 10th, and reports to office for the first time on the D-day that was the 11th of September 2001. He implements a new system from that morning where employee cars would have a form of identification, apparently to try and prevent car bombs, as attempted earlier. What was to happn, he was not prepared for.

As Mr. 'O Neil sets up his office, the first of the aircraft comes in and crashes into Tower 1. As he is doing an evacuation of the tower (I still don't understand why the other tower doesn't go empty immediately), another one crashes on Tower 2. With the tower, came down crashing his entire career, the entire purpose of his aggressive actions.

Mr. 'O Neil's body was discovered in the rubbles of the trade centre. He perhaps died helping out firemen in their rescue act.

I remembered the captain in the movie, Titanic.

A Walk-through Interview

Disclaimer: This post contains several elements of fiction. Names used, if any, are random, and any similarity is purely coincidental. Timeline of the post is also severely compressed.

I was in the correspondent's room of this particular college. My not-so-meaningful discussion with him had been brought to an abrupt halt: a candidate for the post of a lecturer was awaiting her interview with the 'distinguished' panel. I sat in a corner of the cabin, yawning away to glory and day-dreaming, even considering aborting my doomed mission.

Enter the teacher-in-waiting. Enter a head of department. Throw in a dean. Three to one: I thought the young lady had no chance. The interview followed. The conversation that followed was interesting, shocking and amusing, all rolled into one huge mess. I couldn't help over-hearing, but then was mainly because it was rather loud. Anyway I wanted to listen, so the conversation being loud helped.

_________________________________________________

Candidate: Good morning sir (in the chorus-like tone of a school child, addressing only the correspondent; no complementary greeting extended the other way)
Correspondent: So you want to join as a teacher?

Ca: Yes, sir.
Dean: So when did you complete your education?
Ca: Sir, I've finished my BE this year in Computer Science from Raama College of Engineering.
Co: Where?
Ca: Sir, Raama College of Engineering

Co: Subjects?
Ca: Sir?
HoD (waking up from not-so-deep slumber; completely uninterested or perhaps decided?): What subjects did you study in final year?
Ca: Sir, 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 (pardon my lack of knowledge, but as founder-chairman of the Raama college of Engineering, I have other bigger things to focus upon)

De: So can you handle any subject?
Ca: Yes sir, I can handle any subject in computer science (automated response system at work)
Co (winning brownie points for participation in the discussion): So can you take first year classes?
Ca: Yes sir, I can.
HoD: What about final year subjects?
Ca: I can take classes for final year students as well (oops, the tape is slowly wearing out)

Co: Can you give me your certificates?
Ca: Sir, I have left them with the employment exchange; I can get them by Monday
Co: If you join, you must say stay with us compulsorily for one year. Is that ok?
Ca: Ok sir.

Another interruption, prolonging my stay; I am happy with the Carrier AC in the room, though

__________________________________________________

Student: Sir, my mobile phone sir.
Co: eh?
St: Sir, can I get back back my mobile?
Co: Why did you bring mobile to the college? You know you are not supposed to, right?
St: Yes sir, but that day I had extra classes, and I wanted to speak to my parents.
Co: So?
St: So I brought my mobile sir.
Co: You can pay a fine and take it back.
St: But sirrrrrrr...(pleading)

Co (clapping his hands; a genie, sorry an attendent appears from nowehere): Give the phone back to her after she pays a fine of 1000.
St: Sir sir, sorry sir. This will never happen again sir, I promise.
Co: Yes. You can take the phone after paying the fine. This time 1000, next time 2000, then 5000. We actually wanted to impose a fine of 5000. Later we decided that it might be too harsh (psst...mobile phone costs less than 5000)

St: Sir, can I ask parents to speak to you?
Co: Why do you waste their time and my time? Parents or no parents, you have to pay the fine
St: Sir, is there something else that I can do apart from paying a fine? Anything sir!
Co: No
St: Sir, I will write any imposition that you want me to. (My supressed laughet erupts out as a loud cough. Ha! Finally everyone realises there's someone else in the room)
Co: No. Pay the fine, else the college will keep it. You can take it back when you leave college after final year. (Goodness gracious, student is in second year!)

St: Sir, please excuse me this time alone sir.
Co: I have already collected 1000 from another student. Do you expect me to change the rules for you?
St: Sir, this time alone.
Co: No.
St: Ok sir. (abrupt end)

___________________________________________________

HoD and Dean spring back to life again.

Co: You will get 6000 consolidated per month in the first year; 7000 in the second year; 8000 in the third year...
Ca: Ok sir.
De: Are you going to do an ME?
Ca: Not sure, sir. I have to ask my parents.
De: All that is fine, but as a BE student, who wants to become a teacher, you should have planned all this.
Co: Yes. Parents should of course be asked, but you should have decided. Do you know you get more salary with an ME?

De: Do you want to join a course here?
Ca: I'll tell you by Monday sir.
Co: If you leave us within one year, you have to pay 50000. If you move to a government job, you needn't pay it.
Ca: Ok sir.
HoD: So you will be taking classes for first and final year. Ok?
Ca: Ok sir.
Co: So when can you join?
Ca: Sir, I'll join on Monday (why Monday for everything?)
Co: Ok. Bye.
Ca: Thank you sir (Addressing all three)

Huh! No testing capabilities, knowledge, background, etc. Candidate is interested to join; college needs a lecturer. I have no idea who's the more desperate one.

Why haven't I attended any such interview?

Of Helmets and Visors

Wearing a helmet while taking myself on a ride is a totally different experience. The way I move on the roads used to involve a lot of quick glances back, both left and right to gauge my position relative to those looking to pass me, and then proceed. Without a headgear, that meant only a slight turn; with my helmet (Wrangler, Gray) I have to turn a lot as the cone of my vision gets restricted significantly. Also the weight ensures that my head bobs for sometime before stabilising. In a way, the helmet pulls my head to one direction. A change is style is warranted, so the rear view mirror is coming more into the frame.

By the way, I thought helmets were only to protect one from vehicular accidents. Didn't know it had hidden benefits, esp. with the tinted visor hiding my face...