Thumb Impressions

I don't accept that we have improved our lives at all.

My great grand father used his thumb impression in all documentation.

I use mine on my mobile.... where is the development? ;)

The shocker in Uri

It took more than 12 hours for CNN to make a passing mention in their international edition ( so did BBC), about the terrorist attck in Uri, where more than 17 Indian soldiers were killed.

For those of us, who are anxious to flash " we stand by Paris" or " we are with Sydney" memes and change of FB profile pics to reflect those sentiments, this is yet another reminder, that while you and I think that human lives, at least outside our borders, are the same, the western world clearly does not think so. Clearly, for them, some are more equal than the others.

Let us continue on our path of generosity. Generosity manifested in those profile picture changes, to express solidarity with the West. Generosity that goes to show our "secular" credentials, before anyone else can ( hey, how else can one show off his erudite upbringing, or his intellectual moorings?) . Generosity, that extends well beyond extending token solidarities with the West, and right into the hands of those terrorists that repeatedly alternate between our left and right cheeks, delivery surgical slaps, the latest being Uri.

We have no one else, but ourselves, to blame. The vertebral column of the nation has been systematically dismantled, the day Nehru signed the Panchsheel accord. Indira Gandhi fortified that notion when she raided right into the enemy territory, captured it, only to pussy-foot later. And not mention the successive congress governments , whose economic messiah PM kept releasing statements that we will take strict action against perpetrators, every time an act of terrorism happened in this very soil, but did precious little else. And this NDA government, I am afraid, is treading down the same garden path, decorated by encomia on it's lawns, but with no real action. Almost six months into the Pathankot fiasco, and no action has been taken.

It is hardly surprising the the western media could not care less for terrorist attacks on India. No one takes notice of nations that insist on projecting themselves as weak-kneed. Neither the Western governments, nor their media. And for that matter, not even our own people. For, come tomorrow, wreaths will be placed on the martyrs, a few rabble-rousing speeches will be made from the ramparts of the Red Fort. And the nation will invariably slip back to indifference.
We seem to take no real pride in our jawans. Those lives lost, defending the border, clearly, appear to mean nothing special.

Until we learn to put a premium on the the lives lost, defending the nation, blood will continue to flow in the border. And callousness will continue.

God bless this brainwashed billion.

Mandolin Srinivas - two years on

On 19th Sep, two years ago, Mandolin Srinivas stopped providing divine music to earthly mortals. Perhaps God wanted him to do the same in the the heavens. 

Back in the 80s, I was representing SPIC-MACAY in my college, and had met him a few times over, at his house, in connection with programs in my college and elsewhere. I found him an extremely humble human being, soft spoken, with a lot of respect for elders, and an infectious, child-like enthusiasm for music, which lasted till his very last breath. When he played, the music simply flowed out of his hands. He took the listener to hitherto unknown depths of music, something that only geniuses can do.

I miss your divine music, Srinivas. Waiting for your successor in the music field, here on earth, while you entertain the Gods up there.

Page Industries

Probably around 6 years ago or so ( don't remember exactly when), I had entered this stock at a "lofty" price of about 2550 or so. What I was skeptical about, was not the price ( I don't get intimidated by the price of one stock) but the rather high P/E that the stock was asking for. I was skeptical, that for an underwear company, a P/E of about 40 was " not comfortable" ( pun intended). Bought just 10 shares, thinking " I will buy more when the prices crash to 200( stupid me!)"
That 200 never came. 2550 has become 15000 now, over this period. I have stayed on, kicking myself that I should have bought more then. Hindsight wisdom is always dis-heartening, you see! But that is not the point.

What made me pick the stock? The brand name Jockey, though not very big then, seemed to strike a chord. I had observed that the company was positioning it nicely, to tap into the youth market. Immediately, I guessed that this could mean premium pricing, and increased profits, as long as the product quality was good. I told myself " P/E 40 looks scary, but I am prepared to lose 20000 rupess on this horse if required, if this turns out be a fad".

Turns out to be anything but a fad. The brand is ubiquitous, in all urban centres, and tier 2 cities. It is amply evident that "mind share" of the customer is big, for Jockey. There are other brands like Rupa, Lovable etc, that are listed, and are doing OK- but not as dominant as Page, at least going by the numbers and the consistent growth, quarter on quarter.

They started off with underwear. Then comfortably expanded into lingerie. And then extended the brand into simple tees. And have gone on, into socks. What next?

I did not know much about the management then. I do not know much about it even now. Not that I care, in this case, for, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Jockey is a dominant brand. From the looks of it, it will remain so for some more time. The company, to me, clearly have got their marketing act together very well. Their product positioning is spot-on, and pricing continues to be premium.
In hindsight, Page Ind has been a great buy for me. I am staying on.


PS: I have not given any numbers to back my above statements, since I am sharing my experience, and not recommending it per se.
If one wants to enter, it is not too late even now. Nibble during dips - after doing your homework.

Sinus trouble

A cool, steady stream of air
Brushes my nostrils, cool and nice
As I slowly wake up, from dream state
To reality - hospital to hospice.

My febrile body wouldn't breathe on it's own
So, they had apparently augmented it
With the life gas - on demand
To save life, to save a wit.

A life, that once roamed callously
Caring not, for life and it's thrills
Not appreciating the good things
While they lasted, still full of frills.

A life, that soon witnessed
Morphing of  life's facets.
Gains became irritants and challenges,
Pleasure soon gave way to pain.

Much like the one near my nostrils now.
The cool air from the tube
Was good for starters, and
Gave the much needed lube.

But soon, the coolness of the air
Turned to torment, all of my sinus,
My fragile nostril lining
Burned of oxygen, of dryness.

I now realize, how lucky I was
To have breathed freely, like a bull
Without this contraption on my nostril
To have had freedom, and enjoy it in full.

I now realize that, after all,
Sustained and enriched goodness
Is not always welcome- too much
Of anything can lead to duress.

I now long to breathe normally
To catch the fragrance of jasmine
In the cool evening fields,
May goodness again be forever mine.

Dress maketh a man

I am used to wearing my Veshti (dhoti) for Vedic chantings that we do regularly at the temple, and elsewhere.  Not the usual casual way, but as Panchakacham ( 5 yards), that traditional form of wearing , that is disappearing faster than the MLAs of AAP. You can safely consider me as one of those "shameless morons" , who does not bat an eyelid, walking out in Panchakacham on the roads of Singapore, and in buses. (How dare I!)

Today being a Sunday, we had Suryanamaskara Mantram chantings at a friend's place. I got up late, as usual, and rushed in my hastily clad panchakacham. I  must admit I do a decent job of it, in less than 2 minutes, no mean achievement, if you know what I mean. Most of us men, who venture into Panchakacham, will appreciate the nuances involved in wearing one. The proportions to the right and left of the fabric have to be right. And on top of it, even if you know how to wear one, the pleats will have to be laid out as meticulously as in wearing a saree, otherwise, the zari tends to get hidden away, and you could easily end up looking like an elephant who has entered a circus tent by mistake!

Back to today morning. I hopped on to a taxi, and rushed to complete what I had set out - which is, some exhilarating moments of divine Vedic chanting. As soon as I was done, I decided something that I have never done - to ride the Metro ( MRT), for my return trip back home. Just for the heck of it. I wanted to see people's reactions, on spotting " the odd one out" on the rails. Call it my own curiosity, or my answer to Arvind Kejriwal's attention grabbing antics, or what have you.

I was not disappointed. The local people scanned me from head to toe. Though none uttered a word, I could see the reactions in their eyes. Ranging from curiosity to amusement. For the fellow Indian riders, as expected, reactions ranged from happiness for some oldies ( their eyes seem to say " wow! Here comes a guy who dares to flaunt our tradition in public!"), to amusement, to sheer indignation (" desi ka izzat uthaarne aaya hai saala!"- which essentially means " he is out to discredit Indians, by wearing such outdated dresses in public. What a Shame!"). Some even looked at me as if I was a creature from another planet! An ET in a Panchakacham, as it were. ;)

I had wanted it just this way. A quiet but perverse enjoyment of the situation was running inside me. I wanted to be the cynosure, right or wrong, and I had clearly succeeded.

I stepped out of the train, and started walking in the hot sun. The kind of feeling that a Panchakacham gives, has to be felt. The only portion where you realize that there is a piece of clothing on you, is the waist. Below that, you would end up feeling as if there is no cloth on you at all. I mean, it gets as cool as that - quite literally. The more I wear, the more I realize how right our ancestors were, with the Panchakacham, at a time there were no ACs or fans to cool the body. Panchakacham, to me, is the perfect answer to keeping the body airy and ventilated, in the hot Indian summers. At this point, I am tempted to add " I guess it feels the same when the ladies wear the madisaar", but I am mindful of the " how do you know? Have you ever worn a madisaar? Do you have any idea of the difficulties we ladies face when wearing one?" type of torrential rantings, so I am staying away from that.

As I ambled towards home, an elderly couple walked passed me. The man must have been at least a couple of decades elder to me. But as he neared me, he folded his hands in a Namaste posture, and greeted me " Namaskaram, Panthulugaaru!"   In Telugu, that means " salutations, Panditji!". I smiled back at him with a return "Namaste!", and got back home, before the sun could get the better of me.

Wow! In an instant, I had been "elevated" to a Pandtiji! I know very clearly in my mind, that I am not one. Nor do I deserve that respect, matter-of-factly. However, today's escapade reminded me of some time-tested tenets:

1. As the proverb goes,  " ஆள் பாதி , ஆடை பாதி".  Dress maketh a man. Whether one likes it or not, the first impression of the individual gets formed from the form factor, and that includes the dress.
2. It is very easy to misjudge people by prejudices arising from the dress that they wear. It is easy to misplace respect and adulation on people, merely because of their dress. In the same manner, it is easy to ignore, condemn or deride "ill-dressed" people. The worst scoundrel can be dressed nicely in a suit. (Or even in a Panchakacham!). Conversely, a gem of a person can be hidden in a simple kurta or cotton saree from Khadi. In either cases, the wrong opinion and prejudice can be formed in no time, merely based on external appearance. And the dress one wears, contributes. In a big way. And that includes the Panchakacham.  

Photo: courtesy, the Internet