Getting Old

The other day, I came upon a friend's page while wandering on Facebook and I was surprised to see how old he had become. His hair was grey. His shoulders were drooping and he looked frail. And this was a guy who played sports back in school.

The writing on the wall was clear: We are getting old.

Well, I know everyone grows old by age, but I never thought I am old enough to be called "old". This feeling of "getting old" is not the same as mid-life crisis which has to do with one's identity and self-confidence. This is more like - you go to a party and realize there aren't much people there to understand your good old jokes.

Then I remembered how, as kids, we used to criticize Sunil Gavaskar for not retiring even after turning 36. "He can't even run between wickets!". "He should give youngsters a chance". "Do they call him Uncle in the dressing room?". We joked. Now when I play tennis with my son and he tells me, "Hey Dad, you could've run and taken it, you know?" - I remember Gavaskar.

Most of the political leaders whom I admired back then are now gone. They are either dead or behind bars. Some are out on bail. And some are in Chennai Apollo Hospital.

During one of our bedtime talks, I told my son that when we were kids we didn't have a TV or phone in our home. He looked at me sadly and asked, "So you had to do chores all the time?". "No! We played many outdoor games!", I tried to explain. He didn't get it.

Since my son loves tennis, I thought of showing him US Open finals few weeks back. I texted my friend, "Why am I seeing some guy called Wawrinka? Is this the right match?" He replied back, "Yes, Boris Becker doesn't play any more. This guy is world No. 3".

Time flies. 

Coming back to where I started, I pinged that grey-haired-fragile-looking friend and sent him a Friend Request. He replied later, "Hey, is that you? You look old, man!".

5 Facebook Resolutions for 2015

1. Be kind to people who send you Candy Crush invite.

2. Don't check Facebook when you're in the dentist's chair. Some things can wait. So, tell him to wait.

3. Make political comments in such a way that none understands which side you are. You never know who gets out of jail and who goes in and when. Yeah!

4. Don't post a status update when you're angry. Relax. Take deep breaths. And then post the same.

5. Be generous in giving Likes. Remember - a smile takes 8 muscles, but a Like just a finger tip. Moreover, research shows people who give more Likes are less likely to get heart diseases*.

*research pending

P.S: I have no idea how many muscles it takes to smile. But remember the golden rule of journalism: "It is perfectly okay to lie to elevate a fact into a sensation".

The Last Name

One of the greatest gifts parents can give their kids is to give them a simple, short, readable, and easily-pronounceable First name and Last name. Keeping a name as long as the Yellow Stripped Anaconda in the Amazon jungles - will only help in crashing some computer somewhere someday. So, unless it is your mission to crash computers, PLEASE give a short name, preferably less than 15 characters. 

And no, it is NOT okay to concatenate the favorite names suggested by all the 28 Uncles and Aunties who come to visit the baby in the hospital. 

And, your kid's name is definitely not the place to showcase your vast family tree structure, that includes the great Grandfather who once killed a tiger with one hand and sat on its head for 2 hours till it died.

Just spare the little kid. Give him/her a short name. 

And please don't embark on the noble mission of finding a unique name, never ever heard in the history of mankind. And believe me, there are better ways for your child to become famous than by this unique identifier.

One out of every 5 Tamilian has a problem with his Last Name - either in passport or US Visa or ration card or whatever. Tamilians, in particular, have still not figured out what exactly is a Last Name. A vast majority (like me) have their father's full name (oh yes, the whole full name of father) printed as Last Name. So, when people ask me my Last Name, I have to start reading an essay, instead of saying one word. And if this happens in the US, the other guy looks at you as if you are one crazy nut, and asks again, "Sorry, what was that?" - and you go gasping for breath again.

Show me a Tamilian who can prove that his Last Name matches in all records, and I will agree to make Manmohan Singh speak (difficult challenge... but still.. hmmm). Even if the Last Name matches, just ask, "Is this your Last Name?" - and boom - here he goes scratching his head, "Ahh... no... actually... my grandpa's last name was my father's middle name and my..."! (It is in your best interest not to hear the rest).

Now, don't get me started on "Middle Name". Enough.

[P.S: For those of you who already Googled for Yellow Stripped Anaconda, ok... you are right, there is none]

The Art of Appraisal

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All events and characters are fictional. It does not represent anyone living or dead. It does not represent any company or corporation or any other entity. It is written with a sense of humour, and is not intended to criticize or insult or defame anyone or any entity.

Appraisals are a time when all emotions are on the loose and a frenzy atomosphere builds up in cubicles. There is excitement, happiness, sadness, disappointment, envy, hatred, revenge - and everything that can make up a typical Bollywood movie. The whole process goes to show how subjective human perspectives are, and how difficult it is to bring objectivity into the whole thing. Maybe a day will come when appraisals are fully automated with no human intervention - and *bang* - the computer pops your appraisal score exactly at midnight on Dec 31st (and probably spoils your mood on New Year's eve).

The style and narration of the below post is largely inspired by the style used by Scott Adams in "Dilbert". He is one of the best in "business satire". He has written some wonderful humorous books like "The Joy of Work", "The Dilbert Principle", etc. Please read them if you get a chance. They are a good way to relax your mind and laugh at the irony of things.

("Big Boss" and "Kumar" are imaginary characters in an imaginary organization in an imaginary world. If you think they resemble anyone living or dead, it is purely coincidental)

Big Boss: This year your performance was good, excellent and outstanding. So, your rating is "average".

Kumar: What? How come 'average'?

Big Boss: Because...err...uhh...you lack domain knowledge.

Kumar: But last year you said I am a domain expert and you put me in this project as a domain consultant.

Big Boss: Oh is it? Well, in that case, I think your domain knowledge has eroded this year.

Kumar: What???

Big Boss: Yes, I didn't see you sharing knowledge on Purchasing domain.

Kumar: Why would I? Because I am not in Purchasing, I am in Manufacturing. 

Big Boss: This is what I don't like about you. You give excuse for everything.

Kumar: Huh? *Confused*

Big Boss: Next, you need to improve your communication skills.

Kumar: Like what? I am the one who trained the team on "Business Communication", you sat in the audience and took notes, you remember?

Big Boss: Oh is it? Errr...well..I mean, you need to improve your Social Pragmatic Affirmative Communication.

Kumar: Huh? What the hell is that? *Confused*

Big Boss: See! That's why you need to learn about it.

Kumar: *head spinning*

Big Boss: Next, you need to sharpen your recruiting skills. All the guys you recruited left within 2 months.

Kumar: Well, not my mistake. You told them you will sit beside them and review their code, and most resigned the next day itself. Couple of them even attempted suicide.

Big Boss:*stunned* (recovers from shock) Err...anyway, I tried to give you a better rating, but our Normalization process gave you only 'average'.

Kumar: Last year that process gave me 'excellent'. This year just 'average'? Why is this process pushing me up and down every year?

Big Boss: That's a complicated process. You don't want to hear.

Kumar: I'll try to understand. Go ahead.

Big Boss: Well, we gather in a large room, write down the names of sub-ordinates in bits of paper, and throw them up in the air. Whichever lands on the floor gets 'average', whichever lands on table gets 'good', whichever we manage to catch gets 'excellent' and whichever gets stuck to ceiling gets 'outstanding'.

Kumar: (eyes popping out) What? Ridiculous! So who gets 'poor' rating?

Big Boss: Those are the ones we forget to write down.

Kumar: What the hell! And how can paper bits stick to ceiling for 'outstanding'?

Big Boss: Oh no, now you have started questioning our 20 year old organizational process!

Kumar: *faints*

The Rear View Mirror

When I am driving, my greatest fear has always been about the car that is coming behind me and the honorable soul sitting in its driver-seat. I fear that they might bump on my car (Maybe out of too much affection!). So, whenever I hit the brakes in a traffic signal, I keep seeing the rear-view mirror holding my breath - seeing if they are gonna bump on me or come to a screeeeching halt. 

Observing people through the rear-view mirror has helped me write a thesis on "Psychology of the Driver Following Your Car", which I might publish very soon and get a honorary doctor's degree from some internationally renowned university like "Kallikuppam Periya Siriya Chettiar Mudaliar Nadar Devar University (near Kallikuppam bus stand, opposite to water tank)".

Given below are some excerpts from my thesis, just for the benefit of the millions of readers who read my blog everyday (*cough*cough*).

The Cell Phoners

When seen through the rear-view mirror, this is the most frequent category of peope you can see. They are the people who might live for a month without water, but will die if separated from their cell phones for a minute. If ever they get admitted in hospitals, doctors hang their cell phones next to the bottle of blood - to keep their hearts from stopping. (Now, you got an idea about these people). They are the most dangerous of all drivers.

While talking on cell phone, some even scratch the back of their heads with their other hand. I've no idea which one of their hands controls the steering wheel. Some would be laughing out loud looking up at the sky - without any clue about my car going in the front.

By default, most women fall under this category. With a twisted head they hold the cell phone against their shoulders, and speak with lots of gestures, and it always appears to be some emotional topic they're discussing. Why do people use gestures while talking on cell? And why do women always have to discuss emotional matters while driving! *phew*

Let's agree on a well known universal fact. There are only 2 types of drivers, "Good Drivers" and "Women Drivers". Women and driving are mutally exclusive. You might argue that many women drive today. Well, just because Vijaykanth dances in many films, it doesn't make him a dancer! It is just one of those things we've learnt to tolerate over a period of time. Same thing with women drivers. Be on high alert if you see one. (Update on Apr 15, 2015: over the years, several women have crashed their cars on mine - protesting the above statement. Since my survival is at stake, above statement has been struck out!) :)

Jean Twisters

Then, there are these male drivers - who search something in their jean's pocket every time they drive (Note: it is always a tight jean). They do this almost standing up from the driver's seat - and some talk on mobile also simultaneously while doing this twist dance. They twist their body in all directions to take that thing out of the pocket (and it usually never comes out that easily). If you see such "Jean Twisters", it is better to shift lanes asap.

The Caravan

In this category, the car will be filled with children. They are everywhere. Three on the back-seat, two on the floor, one popping its head from behind, and few others not visible but present somewhere. And the car is usually driven by a brave Mom. 

She would be watching the whole gang through the mirror and shouting out commands, "Hey, sit down!", "Put your feet down", "Where is your brother? Why is he not in his seat?", "Don't spill the soda!", "You spilled already? Ok, don't spill the next one!", and so on. 

Some Moms are too brave that they turn their heads around to look at the kids, and still keep driving. Well, you can't blame them. They have to answer questions from all little ones. "Mom, where is my candy?", "Mom, can you tie my shoe?", "Mom, my bubble gum got stuck between the seats!", "Mom, why are you driving too slow?", "Mom, Joey is missing, I think we left him behind", and so on.

The Make-Up Vehicle

This car has all the necessary ingredients for make-up: lipsticks, hair combs of all sizes, face coloring powder, face blackening powder, eye-brow trimmer, and a million other things. The "pretty" lady driver in this car uses her rear-view mirror as a dressing-table mirror. So, the mirror is usually turned around 90 degrees to face her at an angle suitable for make-up. Please note that, the whole functionality of rear-view mirror is modified in this car (Toyota! Please note this! This could be the root cause!). 

At every stop light, she nevers forgets to do a quick make-up. At other times while driving, she would keep bending sideways - this side and that side - looking at the mirror to ensure that her make-up stays fine.

If you are followed by this vehicle, you can start calling your auto-insurance helpline immediately. By the time, you go through all the menu options and reach the Customer Care Representative, you can hear your rear bumper falling down.

The Jurassic Park Chase

These cars were probably made when our grandmothers were in LKG. They are pretty long like a boat, and they make all kinds of creepy sounds while they go - and occasionally few spare parts drop from underneath. When these cars follow me, I get reminded of the dinosaur chase in Jurassic Park - when the Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur chases those guys behind their car and they see its face in the rear-view mirror. That's exactly how this is! Never apply sudden brakes when these cars follow you. They might actually climb over you and keep going as if nothing happened.

Believe me, if these cars bump on you, it is going to make absolutely no difference to them. So, always stay 2 or 3 lanes away from them.

The Hitler Faced Couple

This car will have a couple, and one of them would be driving. I don't know why - but their faces would have that Hitler look (a mixture of anger, fear and constipation)- as if they're going to stab each other any moment. Maybe they are going to get divorced the following week, or maybe they are on their way to sign divorce papers, or maybe it is simply because they're driving a Toyota car, who knows! They neither speak nor see each other. It would look as if they are frozen in time (like those Egyptian Mummies).

But, good news is, they are the safest category. They hardly ever bump on you  (because they have enough problems in life already).

Since my thesis is still in progress, I would like to stop here for now. For the safety of all car drivers, I will try to publish it very soon.

The Happy Lady

Visiting a post office has always been an exciting experience for me - as exciting as sitting on a cactus with cotton pajamas on and at the same time being spotted by the next door bull dog that sees me and starts chasing for no good reason. (Cactus or Bull dog - which is more exciting is a matter worth researching)

Have you ever visited a town post office in India? 

It would usually be a large hall where everyone would be seated - from clerk to branch manager. Usually, the branch manager is the only soul who gets some privacy behind a cubicle. There would be large ceiling fans, and only half of them would be running, and they would create a nice orchestral music. The ones that are not running would have cobwebs and dust, implying that the last time they ran - it was Mrs. Indira Gandhi who was the PM.

There would be a separate counter in a corner to buy stamps - and for some unknown reason it would always resemble a cage, fully fenced all over, with a small semi-circular opening to transact with the clerk inside. I always wondered why this guy received so much security. Most times the counter would be empty. You can either try enquiring the nearby clerks the whereabouts of this guy or you can just bang your head in a wall nearby - both give the same result. Although sometimes, I have to caution you, it is a wise practise to stand on your heels and peep inside the counter really deep. The clerk might actually be sitting inside, almost invisible for outsiders. 

In another corner would be the sticky table - a table with gum all over it, kept for public use. You can see people rubbing their fingers here and there on the table trying to locate a wet spot, and in the process the entire table gets sticky. And believe me, you will always find a wet spot. I've never seen people complaining that there is no gum left. They somehow manage to "extract" gum. Of course, there are others who wholely rely on their tongue for adhesive matters.

My experience with postal clerks too has mostly been not-so-memorable. Whenever I had approached them, they either hated me for disrupting their tea time or lunch time or wrapping-up time. And when I went on other times, the post office was usually closed. So, it has always been a challenging process.

In US, I understood that post offices can be extremely different - I mean, extreme in the other direction. 

Clerks are too lovey-dovey here. They greet us as if we are entering a wedding reception. "Helloooo there ! How you dooooooing !". The first time I heard this - I thought it was some kind of joke - until I heard the same greeting in the nearby counter. It was like standing in the middle of fairy land. So good to be true. But then, I got used to this lovey-dovey-land, for I too learnt the art of greeting "How you dooooing !".

However, one extraordinary postal clerk stands out in my mind.

She is the "Happy Lady" (I just named her so), who works in the USPS branch (United States Postal Service) near our house. She must be in her forties. She is one of the rarest human beings I've seen in my lifetime.  Let me narrate one of the many incidents.

A guy comes to her counter to buy few 42 cent stamps. With a blackberry in his hand, a blue-tooth in his ear, a big bushy moustache, a shining "minor" chain around the neck given by his father-in-law , a glittering gold watch, an ID card stuck to his shirt - well, I couldn't be wrong, he had to be a desi. She gives him a big smile with the usual lovey-dovey greetings, takes out 3 different sheets of stamps, lays them out neatly before him, and says, "Wow, look what we got! Lovely stamps...huh? Which one shall we go with? The pretty one with the US flag, or this gorgeous one with Christmas bells, or this really funny Santa Claus with Reindeer?" She blinks with all excitement, eagerly waiting for his selection.

This poor guy who had never bothered to take a second look at stamps all through his life - all of a sudden starts wondering if he has been missing something in his life, and starts looking at stamps a bit seriously. He thinks to himself, scratching his head, "What the heck! Why do I care what picture is on them? They are all the same price!". (I told you I can't be wrong, he is a desi)

She is not ready to give up. She adds, "Aren't they all lovely! My favorite would be the Christmas bells. Wow, I love those shiny silver bells... and see.. they even reflect the light from the fire place".

The guy is even more puzzled. "That is a silver bell?", he is wondering. Obviously, he hasn't been paying attention to the metal of the bell. "And where the heck is the fire place? Reflection? What reflection?". His brain is still catching up.

People in the queue look with eyes wide open - listening to this rare piece of conversation - and eagerly wait for his decision. It is clear that they didn't come to the post office planned for this. Now, this puts this guy under pressure. He is almost sweating.

She suddenly gestures as if she remembered something, "Hey guess what, I have some more stamps back there with snow flake and dinosaur pictures. Do you want me to bring them as well?".

Now, this definitely shocks him. If he doesn't act now, he might end up listening to how pretty the dinosaurs are. ("Look how cute the Stegosaurus is smiling! Look at his lovely rugged scales and claws!")

His brain senses the forthcoming danger, gets into the "fight or flight" mode, pumps all the adrenaline it can, and quickly rushes for a decision. He blabbers, "Err... anything is fine... I think... Christmas Bells... yes... lovely... shiny...fire place... please give that". 

"That's great! You bought my favorite!", she shouts so happily and claps. Just when he thinks it is all over she comes back, "Now dear, how are we going to pay? You can give cash, or you can swipe your credit card....zzzzooom..in this slot, or you can just write me a nice little cheque or you can...". Well, he has already taken out cash, and hands over the exact change. As he walks to the door, I can see that he is still recovering from the shock.

Few minutes later, as I walk out of the door, I hear the Happy Lady saying to someone, "Wow, this cute package is going all the way to Wisconsin! That's a lovely place! I bet it is snowing out there, dear... isn't it? And I am sure Santa really needs a sleigh if he is visiting Wisconsin! Ha ha!". She laughs with real happiness (no faking), thoroughly enjoying her joke. Then she adds, "Would you like some stamps, dear?". 

I quickly reach for the door. Different parts of the world; just how different can they be!

The World of EMI

Twenty years ago, the abbreviation "EMI" (Equated/Equal Monthly Installment) never existed. Or atleast, it didn't rule the world like it does today. Bank agents never came chasing us asking for our autograph on a loan request form with microscopic disclaimer and warning statements at the bottom.

Rich people built houses, drove in cars, watched color television, had phones in their bedroom, and so on. Middle-class people rented houses, rode in bicycles, listened to All India Radio, used public phones, and rest of the time talked about rising price of onions. So, the distinction was clearly visible.

No one even dared asking banks for loans in lakhs with little or zero down payment. Asking such a thing would have been as shocking as seeing a polar bear mating a gorilla in the middle of Sahara desert. (Phew ! Can't imagine that !)

If someone had a house those days, it meant he was rich. He had enough money to afford a own house and hang pumpkins all around it.

But today, if you have a house, it means you have enrolled in this "Elite EMI Group" (hereafter referred as EEG).

If you have a house and a car - it means you've a long-lasting membership in this group.

If you have a house, a car, and a credit card balance - then you might as well get a permanent membership.

If you have a house, a car, a credit card balance and still in need of another loan - then you better start believing in re-birth & a next life because there is nothing much you can do with this life.

If you have a house, a car, a credit card balance, few personal loans, and couple of kids - then there is nothing to worry; it is your bank that has to worry about filing bankruptcy. You can live your life as if nothing happened - just go on vacations, sit by the beach, watch the sun set, and sip lemonade. You are now a celebrity - like one of those big US companies that proudly announce that they will go bankrupt if Govt doesn't bail them out - and the media goes all bananas about it - and they become a celebrity. You, my dear friend, can actually contest for EEG's chairman post.

When Bill Clinton visited Taj Mahal, he said, "The world is divided into 2 kinds of people: those who have seen Taj Mahal, and those who haven't". Well, naughty boy Clinton was trying to play Shakespeare here. Forget it. Actually, the world is divided into 2 kinds: people with EMI payments, and people without. The first category is growing at an enormous rate that very soon we might ask the 2nd category people to move to another planet.

Maybe it is not a bad idea if we, the EMI people, form a worldwide organization - like say International Borrowers Association (IBA). It should be pronounced as "I-Baah" - an acronym - 'coz acronymns usually get popular quickly. We can have our own flag - in the shape of a credit card or something. We definitely need a slogan - like "In Banks We Trust", "Save Money, Lend Better", etc.

We can announce April 1st as our IBA Day, for all the obvious reasons.

Imagine how many people would participate in our celebrations on April 1st ! The whole of earth would be full of lights and music and dance and partying - "Hoo hoo... I Baah Day". Some bank managers would get a heart-attack watching these on TV. Political leaders would send their wishes to us - "May this day bring peace, love and more importantly tolerance and forgiveness in our world". Aliens watching us from Pluto will be stunned. "What the heck is going on in that planet ! It is brightly lit up and their radio waves are jamming our whole system here. They are louder than that damn meteorite that hit us last week".

If you are reading this blog and you don't owe any EMI payments, then I've just one question for you: "Are you crazy?". Looks like, you have no passion in life at all. I forgive you if you are a retired person. But, if you are working, then you definitely need an EMI - else what is the driving force in your life ! EMI is what keeps the working class spinning today - life becomes like a Speilberg war film - you are constantly running to survive, there are shells fired everywhere, people screaming, buildings falling, smoke and dust, tanks coming behind - yet you keep running ! If you don't have an EMI - you are missing all this fun - your life resembles a opera sung by a fat lady in an empty old theatre on a sweaty Sunday afternoon and in between you hear the theatre janitor sweeping the floor - how boring could that be ! Come on, wake up and join the fun!


Disclaimer: This blog does not provide financial advice of any sort. If you decide to follow what is written here, it is just your fate. If anything written here happens to be true - it is a mere coincidence and nothing more should be read into it.

The Berry Factor

I have a really nice mobile phone - Motorola V190 (Believe me, this model still exists).

Somehow, my friends do not agree with this statement.

"You still haven't changed your mobile?". They've asked a million times.

Well, here is the history. I got this mobile in 2006, when I landed in USA and when I was badly in need of a device to communicate with my family in the other part of the world. The only criteria I had were: it should have speaker, phone book and alarm. I love camera mobiles, but my workplace didn't allow them those days. (Well, they changed their minds later after a year or so... Grrrr!).

The store where I got this mobile (store name withheld since I'm on a highly secret mission to USA) - was cunningly divided into 2 sections, separated by an invisible wall.

One section is like the Dinosaurs section of Museum, where you can see all the extinct mobiles. The people you see here are the ones who still think "Blackberry" is a fruit, and confuse "bluetooth" with sabertooth. And they still use their fingers to dial and still talk into the receiver.

The other section is the "happening" place. People here are the kind who hate using keypads and who want auto-redialling to happen by a sneeze. They also want the maximum number of functions inside their mobile - like camera, email, fax, photocopy, scan, refrigerator, microwave, vacuum cleaner, hair dryer, etc. And they want everything to be integrated with some tooth. For example, if you are shopping in the Indian Grocery store in Chicago, and you forgot what brand of pickle to buy, you should be able to take pictures of all pickle bottles and send it to Mylapore Maami - and she should be able to just say the pickle name with betel leaves in mouth and voice recognition should match it with the pictures you sent and reply you back in a matter of 3 seconds. Any delay isn't appreciated: "Kya yaar, these networks are too slow... you know, the one in California was too good...(blah, blah)". Of course, why on earth do we need a mobile that can't do this simple operation!

Anyway, as you might've guessed by now, I was obviously standing in the Dinosaurs section. Not a single sales guy was around. To avoid any further embarrassment, I quickly grabbed this V190 mobile and slipped out of the store.

Well, it has been a good companion ever since. On some occasions, it had gone missing - only to be found under the cushions of the couch after the guests left. No wonder the guests felt uncomfortable with some unknown vibrations coming from underneath and left our home quickly. (Trust me, I never did it on purpose)

On many occasions, it had gone rolling under the car. Then I had to get down on all fours to reach it. If someone had watched me from behind, I have no idea what they would've thought.

But mostly, it manages to stay in its place, and that place happens to be some untraceable corner of the house - until we find it by calling from our landline. And everytime we wonder how it got there. ("The Case of the Missing Mobile" remains unresolved)

Having said all these, you can imagine how my mobile looks. It has scratches all over, and its paint worn out. You can imagine a wall-poster crumbled by a donkey here and there, and scratched by a roadside buffalo. Ah, that's exactly how it looks. I have not posted its picture here, fearing that even the few people who read my blog might stop reading it.

Now, hold on. Before you give me that look, let me tell you that my mobile still works fine. The speaker, phone book and alarm - everything still works. To replace my mobile at this point goes against Newton's 46th Law of Object Replaceability that states "Every object continues in its path of usability unless acted upon by an extreme force that breaks it beyond recognition". Somehow this doesn't convince my friends. They have all gone to Blackberries and Strawberries, and they want me to switch to some berry soon.

To add anger to their agony (or vice versa), I kind of stunned my friends a few days back when I asked them if my mobile had a blue-tooth. It was like looking at an Ambassador car and asking if it is a Formula 1 race car. Let me not elaborate on what happened next.

"So, what the heck ! Should I just get a Berry and make merry?" - am still thinking...

When "tele" prefixed "conference" ...

When Graham Bell invented the tele-phone he strictly made it for use by 2 people at a time. During the course of time, some guy invented this tricky thing called "Tele-conference", aka Telecon. We need to somehow find that guy and send him to an island in the middle of Atlantic before he starts inventing more dreadful things.

Think of the nice way we had conferences earlier. People met in groups in well-illuminated rooms, with glass windows and big chairs, and someone explained things by writing on the board - and there was coffee/tea served, and it was indeed a nice time to relax. Sometimes there would be a Powerpoint presentation and they would dim the lights, and no one would know if you're sleeping or thinking. When they switch on the lights in the end, you would feel as if you finished watching a matinee show in theatre. Also, you will get a chance to meet "long-time-no-see" friends and discuss critical issues like why Mani Ratnam dropped Kareena and chose Aishwarya.

Another good thing was: there would always be a "lead-time" in reaching the conference room. This lead time is defined as the time taken to reach the conference room (or return back to seat) by walking in groups and it includes time taken to peep over cubicles along the way to say a "Hi" to friends, drinking water by the cooler, visiting restrooms, combing hair, stopping over in the neighbouring cubicle to help that pretty girl resolve a "complicated" bug (in olden days it was called flirting), getting updates on IPL score, etc etc.

With telecon, all these luxuries are now lost. No matter where you are and what time of day it is, people expect you to join a telecon asap with a few seconds notice. There are no lead times here. That's why, many a time you hear all kinds of weird background noises in a telecon - autorickshaw sounds if the guy is attending from Chennai, baby crying, spouse shouting, toilet flushing (note: this guy must be really good at multi-tasking), cows mooing (this guy must have gone to his village on vacation), and what not !

If a telecon has more people, then most of the call goes like this:

"Kumar, are you there?". "Hello Kumar...hello".

"I think, we dropped Kumar".

"Yes, I think I heard a beep a while ago".

"No, that was me who joined, this is Amit".

"Oh, hi Amit, I think we dropped Kumar".

"Hello Kumar?". "Was it Kumar? I think I heard someone now".

"No, that was my dog here, sorry".

Then, all of a sudden, Kumar comes back saying "Oh sorry guys, I was on mute". Easy excuse ! He might have actually dozed off or gone to the nearby grocery store to buy milk - but no matter what, you can always say you were on mute.

Telecons demand a lot of concentration. You might be watching Bollywood movie this side, but your ears should still be tuned to the telecon conversation. Else, you might be caught off-guard when someone asks, "Hey Kumar, did we move that code to production?". You would jolt and wake up from the Bollwood-movie-trance, but you will have no idea what code they're talking about. Because you lost track of the telecon when Rani Mukherjee started dancing. A good trick in such critical situations is to make a general statement and provoke the other guy to repeat the question. Like, for the above question, you can say, "Hmmm... I think, we moved pretty much everything we planned". This confuses the other guy and he would surely repeat, "Yes, but did we move XYZ code to production?". Now, you got what you wanted.

Maybe, I should write these tricks in a book, like a "Survival Guide to Telecons" - and who knows, it might be a best-seller. Anyway, I need to go now, got a telecon to attend.