Showing posts with label Posts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Posts. Show all posts

Posts on Social Media and Oscars

Luckily (for me and my audience), social media did not exist in my days of graduation. Else, you would have been subjected to some such messages-

I thank my brother, sister, maid who fed me regularly without fail, and my parents who woke me up in time to catch the school bus, friends on the bus who kept me amused on the long ride, and my teachers at school who only chose the best age-appropriate nursery rhymes for my class,.... for my successful completion of Class 1. I have graduated to Class 2 with flying colours, and I hope to replicate my success there.

.. and so on.

And of course, eulogies to your spouse, to add some spice to her/his life, and that of the readers..

Thanks, my love, for your unlimited patience in dealing with my whimsical behaviour. You always believed in me, and took care of my smallest needs, not once complaining about my numerous character flaws. How you did that, I don't know. Without you, I would be lost, a speck of insignificant sand in the Universe. Thanks for being my guiding light.. love you forever..to the Moon and back!

Oscar thanksgiving speeches have lost their sheen, for a reason..

Social Media Posts With Feelings

It's confusing. I don't know whether to feel good or bad any more. Whenever I go to my favourite social medium, there are feel-good posts, on these lines.

A poor boy/girl made it to the IAS.

He conquered disease/disability/parents' insistence on careers to  achieve success.

His friends at the bachelors' party ditched him, but he found happiness in marriage.

He managed to eat a full biscuit without it breaking in a cup of tea that he'd dipped it in..



And then, there are feel-bad posts..

The world will end in a big ball of fire next Wednesday, when a meteorite/asteroid will crash into it.

The glaciers will enter your home in Chennai in 5 years..

MBA programs to close down soon, and everyone will have to keep doing whatever they are doing now.. coding for life, and so on..

I am 200

No, not really. It's just that it is the blog speaking, about the number of posts this year: 2014.

That means I found something to write home about, at least that many times.

Happens to be the 200th post of the year. So,instead of writing about something, I will let it wander about a bit.

Just noticed that I have 102 followers. That is nice to know. Motivating.

Went to Nagpur this weekend and played Golf with friends there, after some suspense as to whether the Golf club would be open on that day. A new IIM is going to come up at Nagpur, it seems like.

Just finished teaching a course (barring the shouting, and the grading of exams) on advertising at Indore, and am getting ready for one on Marketing Research next term.

I always wonder why calendars and year planners (organisationally) come too late for any planning to happen in the first calendar month. Oh, well, such is life.

Heard a nice radio program on Shreya Ghoshal the singer, and found there is a lot of sweetness in her voice, though she also sang a couple of item numbers.

Will attend  the 30th reunion of my MBA class at IIM Bangalore next month. We graduated in 1984. Not bad at all.

There is a chill in the air. Wonder if a chilli will be an antidote?




My Encounters with Anopheles- Post No. 1000

This is a rerun of my favourite one, to celebrate my 1000th blog post.

My Encounters with Anopheles

I have tried to explore the meaning of what I do in my own way. Part
of that exploration was through this series in which I converse with
Anopheles, the female mosquito who bites.

A mosquito buzzed into my bedroom. I was sleepless anyway, so I started a conversation.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“From the drain on Street No. 6,” the mosquito replied.
“Do you always have to travel this far for dinner?”
“Not really, but I go for quality food. So I don’t really mind.”
“Tell me something. Is it necessary for you to suck the blood of human beings to survive? Can’t you find some other food?”

The mosquito looked surprised. “The human body has 6 litres of blood on an average. What’s a drop or two for you?”
I replied, “Our sleep is disturbed, for one. And, of course, your bite is, quite literally, A PAIN.”
“Do you really need so much sleep? Why don’t you remain awake and think about things?” the mosquito enquired.
“Like what?” I asked.
“You asked me why I had to draw blood from humans. Have you ever thought about why you slaughter all those animals you use as food? And plants, roots and fruits. Aren’t they life forms too? At least, we don’t totally kill or destroy you. All we do is take a drop of blood, and go. Is that so objectionable? “ the mosquito looked at me questioningly.
That forced me to lie awake and think about the exaggerated notions of the superiority of humankind, before I finally fell asleep- after firmly tucking in the mosquito net.

Episode 2

My bedroom was abuzz. Once again, the same mosquito was with me. I learnt from her this time that she was named Anopheles. After a Greek mosquito goddess. We continued our conversation.
“What do you live for?” I asked.
“For a lot of things. For family, friends and society. And for myself, to enjoy life as much as I can. To realise my potential for doing good.” It was amazing to find a mosquito telling me things which I
thought only humans were capable of thinking about.
“You told me last time you lived in a drain,” I said. “Do mosquitoes always live in drains?”
“Of course not. Some have palatial accommodation. Lakes, ponds, tanks, …even buckets. Depends on what you can afford. And what lifestyle you aspire to have. But if you have grown up in a drain, it
is very difficult to migrate to the lakes. You see, they have a different way of life out there. And they look down upon us.”

This sounded suspiciously like the GREAT CLASS DIVIDE, and I ventured to ask, “But aren’t all mosquitoes born equal?”
She gave me one of those looks. “Are all humans born equal?”
Without waiting for my answer, she went on, “Then why do you think we are?”
After a pause, she added, “There was this reformer, a couple of decades ago, called FULL MARX. He tried to change things so that all mosquitoes would be on par socially and economically. He
painted his revolutionary ideas on walls in his own blood. He called the series “MOS KAPITAL”.
“What happened then?” I asked, with great interest.
“Nothing. He went the way of all revolutionaries. His ideas were too idealistic. The mosquitoes who became powerful wanted to keep the power at all costs, and succeeded. The dreams of a classless society evaporated quickly. Life became worse than before. So his ideas were abandoned, and we are back to the earlier system.” On that sombre note, Anopheles waved me goodbye and sailed away silently.

Episode 3

Anopheles was back with a buzz (and not a bang). Our conversation this time veered around to education. I happened to mention to her that I was a marketing professor, and was surprised to learn
from Anopheles that mosquitoes also have schools.
“How much have you studied?” I enquired of her.
“Not a whole lot, I’m afraid,” she replied. “You see, I have a large family to support. And I am the sole BLOOD WINNER. That leaves hardly any time to study. But I do attend some short courses
from time to time, to keep myself up to date,” she added.
“May I ask what these courses teach?” I was curious.
“Oh, this and that. Some are practical, like the one I attended last week, called ‘Stinging Least to Draw the Most Blood,’ which essentially taught me how to increase the efficiency of a sting. Then
there was another called ‘How to Minimise the Danger of Human Attacks’. Some of them are for fun, like ‘Floating in the Air’ and ‘Swinging From a Single Hair’, or ‘Training Your Young Ones to
Play Hide n’ Seek in Keyholes’.”

“What are the objectives of your formal education system?” I asked her.
“That every little one should grow up to be a good, honest, useful mosquito,” she replied without hesitation.
“To what extent is the objective achieved?” I wanted to know.
“A lot depends on the students themselves. Some are motivated and do well for themselves. Others sleepwalk through their classes and remain unaffected. Yet others put their ‘learning’ to mischievous
uses, and become blots on the mosquito-landscape.”
“Sounds very familiar,” I muttered. “Anyway, let’s change the topic. What do you do for recreation?”
“We create buzzwords. That is our major leisure activity,” she informed me.

“What do you mean?” I couldn’t fathom this one.
“Just what I said. We have individual events, in which each of us buzzes a new buzz. If the panel of judges feels it is original, we enter the final round. The best new buzzword (an accepted new Buzz is
called a buzzword) gets a prize. We also have team events, where a team can work together to create new buzzwords. It’s a lot of fun.”
Anopheles proceeded to demonstrate a new buzzword she had just made up, by flapping her wings musically. “Do you have buzzwords too?” She asked me.
“Yes,” I replied. “But in our case, the objective is different. We create buzzwords so that we can confuse novices (sometimes nonnovices too), and then charge them money to clear their confusion.
For example, take the buzzword “Corporate Restructuring”. Till date, nobody has been able to figure out what it means. The process of explaining what it means has spawned an entire industry - called
Management Consultancy.” On that note, I bade her goodbye, and settled down to some well-earned respite from a ‘buzzy’ day.

Episode 4

My winged friend sailed into my room once more. “What’s on your mind?” I asked her.
“Oh, nothing.” But quickly, she was out of her self-imposed silence. “Tell me, if humans are so smart, why aren’t they happy?”

This was an unexpected googly- a doosra. I tried to counter with a lecture on the longings of all human beings to be one with the supreme being, and their quest for real happiness, but I didn’t
sound convincing to myself. As I had thought, my arguments were instantly rebuffed.
“What are the major differences between your life and mine?” Anopheles asked pointedly.
I had to think hard. “You fly, and I don’t,” I tried.
“Come on, now. Next you will say that you are big and I am small, and that you can read a book and I can’t. Is that all?”
That got me thinking about why we as a human race existed, and all I could think of was the violence, the greed, the crime, the grime and the filth most human beings encounter in their lives. Most of our instincts and higher abilities did not seem to be put to the common good at all.
“I agree we seem to be spending too much time on wars over oil and ideology, …” I stuttered.
“So do animals, over territory or other egoistic pursuits,” she said.
“But we do have a lot of saints who show us the path, and lead righteous lives,” I added.
“How many did you have in the last hundred years?” she asked innocently.

I counted up to four, and gave up. She sensed my discomfort, and
changed the subject.
“OK, let’s talk about the subject of parents setting an example to their children. What do you tell your child to look forward to in life?”
“A job with Infosys,” I joked. I could see a frown of non-understanding on Anopheles’ face (or so I thought).
“That is one of our fastest growing companies,” I added.
“Will that make your child happy?” This was getting tougher than I had imagined.

“I think so,” I said, but I was only half serious about this whole thing. “The only two things ‘happening’ in a child’s life are admission to an engineering college and a job in Infosys after that, it seems,” I continued. “And I don’t know if that’s such a good thing.”
“What do children who join this great company do?” her curiosity was aroused.
“Write some kind of programs- instructions for making computers work”, I said.
“So the homo sapiens want to spend a lifetime writing programs to make the dumb machines work?” I had to agree it sounded ludicrous when it was put like that.
“Well, we also have the BPO sector,” I said.
“And what do young people do there?” she wanted to know.
“Hmm..they answer phone calls, make sales calls, fill out forms dictated by someone across the world, decide whether some applicant should be sold insurance or not, and a million other things.”
“And we thought our life was mundane,” Anopheles could not resist this one.

It was time for me to get into the questioning mode. “Tell me, do you have religions?” I asked her.
“Yes, we do.”
“How many Gods do you have?”
“Oh, lots. We keep imagining as many as we want.” Sounded familiar.
“How do you handle religious extremism?” I was curious to know.
“What is religious extremism?” she asked. I could not believe this.
“Don’t you have people…uh, mosquitoes who want to destroy mosquitoes following another religion, or at least banish them, or something?” I asked.
“Not really, we are very liberal. Our policy is to live and let live.”
“And ours, live and let die,” I muttered, inspired by James Bond.
I was getting late for office, and excused myself. “We’ll meet another time,” I told Anopheles, “and continue our tete a tete.”

Episode 5

I was deep in slumber the other night, when she buzzed me. I thought it was the cellphone, but it was my old friend.
“You don’t talk to me anymore,” she complained.
“It’s not you,” I said. “We don’t talk to anyone, period.”
“Why?” She seemed puzzled.
“Because of Facebook,” I told her.
“What’s that?” She arched her eyebrows.
I said, ‘Every few years, there is a new billionaire who creates something. Actually ‘creates’ is not the right word, because you can’t see his creations, except for a few fleeting seconds. Not made of flesh and blood, like you and me. The latest is this fellow, Zuckerberg by name, who made his billions and half the world has gone crazy. The other half is not on Facebook yet only because there is no electricity in their town.’

‘But what do you do on this Facebook?’ was her innocent question.
‘Well, it’s hard to explain. We post things- I mean, we write stuff about which toothpaste we brushed with, whom we are hanging out with, where we went, whether it rained today, how awful work
is, and so on. And our friends ‘like’ what we write.’
‘How can you call them friends if they ‘like’ your having an awful day at work?’ She remained interrogative.
I tried to defend Zuckerberg (millionaires tend to bring out this quality in non-millionaires). I said, “Well, the ‘Like’ is only an acknowledgement that they read what I wrote. Not that all the stuff is ‘likeable’.”

Not convinced, she asked, “What else?”
I said, “We also go to exotic places and take pics so that we can share them with our friends.”
“You mean the same friends we spoke about?”
“Yeah, the same. They can also ‘like’ photos or make some snide remarks about how you are looking in your new, expensive hair style.”
“And you insist on calling them friends. With friends like these, you don’t need enemies.” She smirked.

I was now curious about where she had gone all these years. So I asked her.
“Oh, life is tough these days.” She became pensive. Continuing, she said, “You know, with trees being chopped and water bodies drying up, it is tough to find places to breed. And pesticides are getting more powerful. Be careful, one day they might affect you. I don’t know why, but human blood does not taste the same any more.”
“May be it’s polluted by all the chemicals, and those pesticides,” I suggested.
“Also, she complained, “Our kids want blood to reach them easy, without having to work for it. Can’t understand the generation.”
That touched a raw nerve. I said, “Let’s discuss this another time. Boss has called an early morning meeting tomorrow.”

And wishing her goodnight, I went back to sleep.

THE END

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