A little saved today is more spent tomorrow

Have you heard the cliché “penny wise pound foolish”? Its origin can be traced to our British colonial past (pound and penny) and its survival to our regard for conventional wisdom. However, you wouldn’t hear many people admit that they lived the aphorism. This week I did. Let me explain how. 

During my last five years in Bangalore, I have promised my parents many times that I would visit Calcutta twice a year, but it didn’t work out. This year I made up my mind to do it, once at the end and once in the middle of the year. April, being the fourth month of the year, felt somewhat close to the middle if not perfectly so. So I chose last week of April for my travel home.

My friend, who helps me buy tickets online since I don’t have a credit card (without grumbling), insisted I fly up and down. I said I would be economic and travel one leg of the journey by train. “Which one?” Because I would get tired while returning, the return journey seemed more appropriate for flight. So I bought a return-flight ticket from Calcutta to Bangalore.

But where I would get my train ticket to go to Calcutta from?

Flight tickets can be easy to get but not so with train tickets.

I approached a ticket agent and he promised me that while he wouldn’t be able to get me a regular ticket due to paucity of time, he would be able to arrange for a tatkal one, which is issued only a day or two before boarding. I said I wanted a ticket on 22^nd April, and he replied, “Done sir.”

Today, in the morning, he called me and said he hadn’t got a confirmed tatkal ticket; what he got was on waiting list behind eight people. Such tickets never translate into confirmed ones and you are booted out of the train unless you are lucky.

He asked me whether I would be interested to fly to Calcutta and I outrightly dismissed the idea and said I would visit his office later.

When I visited his office, I didn’t like the train options he told me. Then he scoured a website to show me flight options. I settled for the least-priced one, Rs. 6600. Earlier I had given him an advance for the train ticket; I paid him the remaining amount.

While returning home, I reflected if I had bought a flight ticket for going together with my return ticket, instead of trying to travel by train and be economic, I would be richer by a tidy sum.

Be that as it may, at least I am going home. (I am flying by Air India on Sunday morning, 24^th April.)


You can also call me an April fool.

An Hour at a Book Launch

Yesterday I sat through a book launch for the first time. It was the launch of a collection of short stories – Under the Urban Tree – contributed by a group of wannabe writers as part of their writing workshop conducted by Ireeboot, an institute which offers crash courses on variety of topics. I was not directly invited to the launch; a friend forwarded the invite to me and I decided to go. The invite said it would host an interactive discussion between the audience, the contributors and the editor of the short stories.


The contributing authors were an interesting mix of individuals of varied age groups, the youngest was a 11th standard student and the oldest had a head full of grey hears. Their stories took a year to find a publisher.

I have always taken writing courses with a pinch of salt. Some years back, I did a mass communication course, which has a more definite professional nature than a creative writing workshop, and didn’t think it made a great impact on my writing, although I came to know a lot about the industry and certainly found some of the faculties very encouraging.

I have not heard established authors, some of whom are workshop products themselves, speak very highly of writing workshops. However, Anita Desai, who has been teaching creative writing for many years in the US, in an interview, concurred with my views. She said they don’t teach you how to write but throw you into the right atmosphere where you meet other writers and can exchange ideas.

Some good insights came through the interaction at the launch. The editor said good writing is all about narrowing the difference between what you think and what you write. Some 15 years back, when she had started writing, her thoughts used to take a very different shape when translated into written words, she said. 15 years of “trying to write” has narrowed that gap.


“How to cope with the disappointment of seeing that your published work is very different from what you originally wrote?” a lady from the audience asked. Editors should not change anything without the approval of the author, the editor countered.


But editors at newspapers and magazines have to meet deadlines, so they can’t get back to the author, the grey-haired writer informed.


I didn’t ask any question but enjoyed the interaction.

World Cup Victory and Celebrations

I saw the World Cup final at a club, thanks to a friend. We went in the evening, a few hours after the match had started. Generally in the evening, the club has a good number of members in attendance, but it’s never overwhelmingly crowdy. That day it was different: a sea of humanity everywhere roaring and waving the Indian tricolor. It resembled a mini stadium.

The club had installed huge LCD screens in open air and indoors. The open-air arrangement was filled to capacity, so we stepped indoors. Srilanka had a few more overs to bat and they were thrashing the Indian bowlers apart. India had some moments but mostly each time the ball was hitting the Lankans’ willow, it was either racing to the boundary or soaring up promisingly for a six.

There was rise and dip in crowd enthusiasm accordingly. But a silence followed when the Lankans finished at 262.

As we waited for the match to resume, we realized that our drinks and food orders placed quite sometime ago hadn’t arrived. The club was full-house and there was a shortage of staff. The result was a total service breakdown. There was also a shortage of chairs. So those standing were enviously looking at others’ chairs, while those sitting were reluctant to leave theirs to guard against chair pilferage.

We were asked to go and collect our drinks from the bar. There was no surety whether the foods we had ordered for would ever arrive. The club's service is generally very good and it was quite a departure from the norm.

The match resumed and after a few anxious moments – Sachin's, Sahwag’s cheap dismissal –India looked like it was steadily moving ahead.

But the Indian revival didn’t lead to our relief. We walked to the bar and found ourselves marginalized to a corner, pocking our receipts in to receive our drinks. We managed to do that finally and retuned to our seats.

India was not showing any signs of letting up. It lost one wicket sometime after the dismissals of Sachin and Sehwag, but Dhoni and Yugraj we were looking both sturdy with occasional boundaries and steady with constant rotation of strikes.

In the meantime, some drink accompaniments we had asked for also arrived. Some boundaries, sixes, cheers and downed pegs later Dhoni brought up India’s second World Cup victory, since 1983.

People erupted into celebrations. They hugged, high-fived and even took turn to lift each other up and down.

In the streets there were more revelry and hysteria. Cars were hardly able to move. People in them were sticking their hands out to shake hands. Some were throwing themselves on windshields and others dancing in front of them. The hysteria was intimidating for some foreigners; they were smiling and looking around to express solidarity with the crowd.

I had heard and read about and seen visuals of our 1983 victory. But being part of a World Cup victory was a special feeling.

Just Books and Cricket

I enjoy reading interviews and interviews of writers have been a long-time favorite. The book I am reading currently is a compilation of interviews of 30 ‘famous’ writers interviewed by Sunil Shetty. Sunil hosts an interview show on NDTV and these are a collection of interviews he has done since the inception of the show in 2005. In his foreword, he writes in what circumstances the idea of the show had come about.


The program is aired on NDTV Profit, a sub-section of NDTV which features stock market and business news. As the stock market closes on Fridays for the weekend, a substantive show had to be conceived to fill the vacuum. In a meeting, many ideas were tossed around and the one most frowned up was interview of writers.

Sunil recalls the idea was tossed up by Pronoy Roy’s wife, who is an inveterate reader, and the reason why people were skeptical about it was that writers, being recluses, don’t make great TV personalities. They are generally reluctant to talk about their work. Although some writers refused to be interviewed on TV, majority obliged and ‘Just Books’ became a success.

The book presents a short profile of writes followed their interviews. The interviews are not free flowing but in question and answer format. Some interviews are compilation of two, three interactions with the writers held at different locations and sometimes by different people.

The reason why I like writers’ interviews is that they open a window to the world of books, the books that had an impact on them, the writers they read etc. Another reason is their personalities and distinct style of putting things. Salman Rshdie is flamboyant; William Dalrymple garrulous; Amitava Ghosh matter of fact; Khushwant Singh simple and unpretentious.

Many times these interviews have led me to books and writers that I wouldn’t otherwise know.



                                                World Cup Finale

On Wednesday, for the first time in my last seven years of stay away from home, I regretted not having a TV, thanks to the India Pakistan World Cup semi final at Mohali. I watched the match at office. It was like a virtual day-off for people at work. They remained glued to the TV screens, sometimes moving away to attend to their professional duties only to rush back before TV again. They cheered every wicket taken, run saved or scored by India. Sometimes I also found myself erupting in excitement. I felt sports can make one so sadistic, taking pleasure at some else’s defeat. But tomorrow I am going to do that again, when India will look to repeat 1983 and Srilanka, 1996.

How Newspapers are Just Like You and I

I don't know how many of you still read newspapers, not the online version but the broad sheet. But I’m still a newspaper fan. The relationship started when I was probably in sixth or seventh standard in school – and it continues to this day.

Staying in three states of India (or two states and a union territory, Delhi), I have been exposed to various English dailies at various times. I read the Statesman and the Telegraph in Calcutta; the Hindustan Times and the Times of India in Delhi; again the Times of India, the Deccan Herald, the Hindu and occasionally The Indian Express in Bangalore.


What I have always found interesting is that no two newspapers are same in character and personality. In fact, they are as different as two people and as human as they are. Their personality traits are based on use of language, style of reporting and their chief editors’ personalities.


The Statesman, whose market is mainly limited to Calcutta, for example, is like a retired man from an old-world British firm for whom an inaccurate English pronunciation is the most inexcusable form of sacrilege. Another Calcutta paper, the Telegraph, on the other hand, is like an above-40-youthful uncle who has a regard for the status quo but is also reluctant to be out of step with changing times.


Calcutta market is now flooded with other newspapers, but around 20 or so years back there weren’t more than two to three major English dailies. The Statesman had a prominent presence until Ananda Bazar, a leading Bengali daily, launched its English avatar, The the Telegraph, in the early 90s, and it became an instant hit with the young, with whom Statesman hadn’t cut the ice.


The post-90s’ ‘liberalized Calcutta newspaper market’ introduced me to the Hindustan Times, and the paper instantly scored my loyalty. It had fewer pages than the Telegraph, so you could run through it sooner. Its language was friendlier (or according to Statesman types, pedestrian) than theTelegraph and the other dailies. And it had Vir Sanghvi’s (its chief editor) Counterpoint (which ran into controversy few months back). Vir also started a food column in Brunch, an HT lifestyle Sunday magazine - Rude Food - during the time and it became an instant hit; he still writes the column.


Hindustan Times, for me, was just like Vir: easy going, unpretentious and friendly. The paper also introduced me to the columns of Khushwant Singh, whose works (short stories and essays) I later read extensively.


I continued reading the Hindustan Times when I moved to Delhi for work but also took up the Times of India. However, after coming to Bangalore, I broke up with the HT as it isn’t available here, but stuck to the TOI, which is among the leading English dailies in Bangalore.


The TOI was among the first newspapers to introduce the concept of ‘news you can use’. It dedicates a shelf of pages everyday to classified advertisements and carries news items that keep its readers informed about things that directly affect their lives, like board exam results, call center numbers for government services etc.


It runs innovative public-interest initiatives and when required, it vehemently criticizes the powers that be. In short, the TOI is everything that a corporate boss wants a worker to be: efficient, innovative, interactive and utilitarian. Additionally, it’s also chaotic and raucous. Or vibrant, depending on how you want to put it.


The Hindu, whose market is mostly in south India, is the opposite. It’s staid, sober, deep and analytical. And some would also say, humourless. It’s not speculative and colourful like TOI; it’s restraint, scholarly, idealistic and also Leftist. It’s a mirror image of its editor in chief, N Ram. In his autobiography, Nehru had written about the Hindu’s sobriety and its propensity to stay away controversies. Like the Hindustan Times inroduced me to Khushwant Singh, in the Hindu I read Shashi Tharoor for the first time.

 The Deccan Herald is somewhere between the TOI and the Hindu. It mixes serious reporting with a pinch of frivolity (you will get street side food and Bollywood gossip) and presents the right balance. It also gives generous doses of literature through book reviews and pieces on literary trends and interviews. It wants to keep everyone happy.

Reading newspapers is no different from knowing people. If I had been writing about friends and colleagues, it wouldn’t be very different from this.

Landlord Mystery Busted

                                                                                  

This month, when I called up the landlord to check when and where he would meet me for rent, he as usual didn’t pick up the call. He called me up next morning and said he was half an hour away from where he would like to meet me. Having learnt my lessons and grown wiser, this time, I told him to call me upon reaching the spot and I would be there within 10 minutes. He never called up. Next morning, he again called me and said I would receive a call once he was at the place of meeting. But he didn’t call.


That day in the evening, I SMSed him asking for his account number so that I could transfer the rent online, sparing myself the ordeal of having to go through so much. He didn’t respond to the SMS.

This reluctance to receive money was something new. Earlier, although he used to keep me waiting, he answered phone calls and turned up for the rent. I knew he needed the money. What then was stopping him from coming?

I told my neighbour about the whole rent episode. He said the ownership of the house has changed and the current owner is the jeweller, whose jewellry shop is below my room on the ground floor. The neighbour, who is on good terms with the jeweller, said he would talk to the jeweler and get back to me on this.

Being a gentleman, if the neighbour told so much then there must be an iota of truth, I thought. But I wasn’t comfortable with him talking to the jeweller on my behalf, although I was reluctant to talk to the jeweller myself. If the house was the jeweller’s property, then it’s for him to approach me for rent, I reasoned.

All this happened over a weekend and once the following week started, I stopped being so concerned, but not for long. On Tuesday night, I found an SMS from the landlord asking me to call him up the next day. I decided as long as I wasn’t sure that he was the continuing owner of the building, I wouldn’t give him the rent. And the landlord would never reveal the true story. He had told me earlier about a possible sale of his property but hadn’t told it was the building in question.

I also reasoned that while both the landlord and the jeweller were crooks, the jeweller was the better of the two in that he was visible staying in the same building and unlike the landlord, I at least don’t know him to run away from anyone. Additionally, he is also financially healthier than the landlord, so I would be happier with him taking responsibility of returning my security deposit, a tidy sum. I made up my mind to talk to the jeweller next morning.

He said what my friend had predicted sometime back. The landlord had borrowed money from a bank mortgaging the house papers. When the landlord defaulted on the payment, the bank decided to auction the house. Upon coming to know that the house was going under the hammer, the jeweller together with a builder friend of his went and paid 10 lakhs to the bank to stop them from auctioning the property. Couple of weeks later, he garnered some more money and paid another 30 lakhs to the bank. The worth of the house has been assessed to be 1.5 crore. And that leaves 75 lakhs more for the jeweller to pay the bank.

I understood this development had been unfolding over quite sometime and the landlord had kept me in the dark. I asked the jeweller about who should I pay the rent to. He said to him.

I went back to my room and phoned the landlord to tell him the jeweller’s version of the story and informed him that I wouldn’t give him the rent this month onwards. I had expected some resistance from him, but I was in for a surprise. After hearing me out, he submissively said, “Oh, ok, no problem.” And I cut the call.

The submission confirmed the jeweller’s version.

So, according to me, this is how it stands. The building’s official owner is still the old landlord, but the ownership is disputed as the property has been forfeited by the bank. When the jeweller pays the remaining part of property worth, the ownership will go to him. A property dispute lawyer will be able to deduce it better.

Perils of Homecoming

Yesterday, I was reflecting that the road that takes people away from their hometowns and countries in search of better career opportunities is a one-way path that seldom returns home, and even if it does, it’s not usually a happy homecoming.


A distant uncle of mine who spent a considerable time in the US, initially as a student and then worker, had a tough time when he returned to India.

For a decade or so, he hopped from one job to another and then gave up on jobs and started his business which didn’t work either. Unable to adjust with professional disappointments, he became bitterly dismissive of India and everything Indian. Few years back, he returned to the US for good.

A friend, who had gone to Mumbai for jobs after his MBA, said the other day that he dropped his plan to return to Calcutta (his hometown) last year as his search for jobs in Calcutta turned futile with either unsatisfactory roles or salaries way lower than his current pay being offered to him.

But generally people want to return home even if it means a compromise in salary and position. What they remain cynical about, however, is whether they would be able to adjust to another work culture, especially one where the job market is not very good. Job markets shape workers’ attitudes towards their work and coworkers. You find politics and groupism everywhere, but they are more active in ailing economies where there are fewer jobs to around. An acquaintance who had a decent job in Kerela (a not so good job market and Leftist bastion) left it suddenly one day fed up of office politics.

Companies, in weaker markets, are also slow in taking decisions. Two months ago, I went through a selection process for a Calcutta position and cleared it. They said they would roll out the offer in a week or two but kept delaying it under some pretext or the other. Finally, I was dropped – and I still don’t know why. (I have written a mail to their HR detailing the experience I was put through, and will publish it in this blog after sometime.)

Partly, people migrating from advanced economies are also to blame - they suffer from a superiority complex which makes them reluctant to adjust. My US uncle’s pet complaint through his years in India was, “Everything is wrong with this country.” Nowadays, I find myself feeling guilty of taking similar gloomy views of everything about Calcutta. My friends snub me for doing so and immediately leap to the defense of the city.

Calcutta was among the strongest economies in the country until it started sliding back with the coming of Leftists to power in 1977 (a year after I was born). People, however, are expecting it to change in a year or two with assembly elections couple of months away and a non-Left party expected to dislodge the Leftist government that’s responsible for this economic stalemate. Bengalis staying outside Bengal and wanting to return home have their eyes set on this election.

So will a political change, if that’s followed by economic betterment, bring about change in work culture in Calcutta? I am keeping my fingers crossed.