Mumbai Manoos

I have always suspected that Mumbai is nothing but a glorified transit-camp-casino in the minds of its dwellers. People dream, land up here and at the back of their minds, home is somewhere far away. The migrants have land to till and to go back to. The middle class yearn for their ‘native’. And the rich, well they will always have multiple homes of convenience. Till of course, the city makes you an addict. To the opportunities. To the pace of life. To the comfort and the freedom of not being judged constantly.

The indiscriminate firing in Mumbai on 26.11.08 undid the work of all the political parties trying to divide vote banks on caste and regional lines. It brought Mumbai residents (or as I would like to call them, the Mumbai Manoos) together like never before. The attack wasn’t localized to trains or the buses. Random people – CEOs and the 5 Star rich, Omelet Pav sellers, train travelers and western tourists were among the people caught unawares.

The Mumbai Manoos - all the people who work, live and dare to call this city their home - are out on the streets and demanding some concrete action, demanding security and a better life in their ‘working home’. Well the city is (inefficiently) built for work not for a comfortable life.

The middle and upper middle class of these Mumbai Manoos, generally immune to most things, have been galvanized into action, as the huge gathering on 03.12.08 at the Gateway of India proves. More rallies have been planned. Voices are being raised. The hawks are out, demanding an attack as an answer to this seemingly proxy war emanating from Pakistani soil. The live telecasts and a bit of prodding by the newscasters has done its bit no doubt. Asking questions, as someone rightly said, that should have been asked by our politicians to the Pakistanis.

The people in power treat the city like the natives of the Amazon rainforests do. Slash and burn, extract their pound of flesh, make the most out of their years in power before getting booted out.

One can only hope that the sense of outrage and the ownership of the Mumbai Manoos lingers on and reaches the thick-skinned, Gordon Gecko-esque politicians. Like Prannoy Roy put it, enough is enough.

The True 'I' Phone

Every phone that I look at, has some disappointment in store. Doesn't have GPS. Or doesn't have WiFi, or doesn't have a good enough camera, or doesn't have a good battery life, etc.
How about Nokia (could be anyone actually, including Google and Apple) introducing a micro-site that lets registered users drag and drop the style, shape and features that they want, which then gets shipped in say 30 days. If Dell can do it, if car companies can do it, so can mobile manufacturers.

Mumbai Taxis - How About Comfortable Sedans?

The Government of Maharashtra has approved the Maruti Suzuki Omni and the Hyundai Santro as replacements for the good old Premier Padminis.
The Omni as a Taxi is like an auto rickshaw on four wheels. The Santro is going to be cramped. Have they forgotten that we don't want a point-to-point people mover that either has suspension built for carrying goods or a cramped hatchback that can't be of much use at Airports or Railway stations? Imagine lifting a huge bag on the roof of the Santro. Because the back will house the CNG tank.
The approved vehicles can at best be great for 5 rupee share-a-cab rides.
Question: Why doesn't the Government use part of the cess and tax collected on fuel sales, and the ever-increasing toll charges to part-subsidize the overhaul of the Taxi fleet? The excuse that this money is being is being used to improve roads and infrastructure is not quite palatable any more.
Suggestions: Tata Indigo CS, Renault Logan, maybe even a stripped down Swift DZire.

Irony

On 21st October 2008, Raj decides to target the North Indians working in Mumbai. I land from Chennai and get the news that the Mumbai shutdown is indeed serious, and there is no way to go from airport to home, a ride of Rs40 by Auto and Rs 90 odd by Taxi.
So me, the Maharashtrian, requests North Indian cool cabbie from UP to drop me. He, cooly, demands Rs500 for the 'riks' to be taken. No one else is agreeing to leave the airport taxi stand.
After humming and hawwing and realising the irony of the whole situation, I agree.
So now I've decided to hire a non-maharashtrian driver, cook, domestic help and so on as my little way of balancing the moronic anti-Indian behaviour by the politically motivated.

iPhone - Getting Stuck

Getting started:
1.The shiny pin hooked to the black brochure in the iPhone box, is the pin with which you pop out the SIM card from its slot on top of the instrument.
2. Once switched on (it came pre-charged) the USB plug icon pointing to an iTunes logo on the active screen means you have to connect the instrument into a web-connected iTunes from your computer to complete the registration process.

Well, no one explained this and the illustrated iPhone Manual doesn't have a clearly spelt out 'Getting started' section to help awestruck people like me. A bit cryptic. Reminded me of the Monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The Vodafone store at Lower Parel is strange. They handed me a receipt of purchase which stated 'Deposits and Charges' with a code which only they can figure is an iPhone sold.
Had to insist on a receipt which plainly stated that an iPhone with Part number and IMEI number was sold to me. Then another round of haggling to get myself a copy of the 'Agreement' that I signed with Apple.
The reason given: Sir, that is the format.
How can that be a bill of purchase. Has everyone before me bought it this way, too excited about getting an official piece to bother about a proper bill?

Pits And Troughs, Not Potholes

Streets in India should have two plates. One permanent with the name of the road (permanent that is, till the new elected government decides to change it to the new local hero, forgotten freedom fighter, top politician's father, mother, etc.) and one just under it with the road contractor's name and address. Not the name of the company that he owns, which he could shut down or deny any association with. But his own name and residential address.

Logan as Taxis

Figured that the Maruti Suzuki Esteem has finally been discontinued from production. Should get a long service award. One engine upgrade and a few bits and bobs in about 15 years.
Well I am still using my old faithful, which has been 'restored', that was the amount of work that has gone into it, so I should call it my new faithful. And no, I am not prone to calling it Sally or Linda or anything such.
I was wondering about all the AC cabs that have started up in Mumbai, all have bought Esteems of various colours. Must have been a win-win situation for Maruti Suzuki and the fleet owners.
My suggestion to the Govt. of Maharashtra and the Taximens' Union would be to strike a deal with Mahindra Logan and get the Logan to replace the horribly outdated rattletraps, the Premier Padminis.
The Logan is perfect taxi material - it's a low cost, solidly built car, perfect for BMC/MMRDA roads (whoever owns up to them), it spacious enough with a large boot, the diesel is modern and very drivable, and if the government gets into, they can push for a CNG variant too. And for Mahindra Logan, its a 35000 car market.
Meru has already deployed it in Hyderabad as a premium AC cab. But I'm sure a stripped down version can be made.
And why can't we have them all with AC as standard? So the passenger can decide AC or non AC fares.

Ho Chi Minh and Cu Chi

Vietnam was a big surprise. Clean, friendly, without much angst (have the tourist DoLLas helped overcome it?). Walked around for hours. Showed when I weighed myself back home, 2.5 kilos less in 5 days! My vegetarianism helped as I hardly ate anything. The typical SE Asian oil (palm oil?) is not something I will get used to in a hurry. I was busy absorbing everything - smells, food, people, poverty (in a respectable, clean and dignified sort of way) and surprising wealth. I had forgotten that the country was unified and it is communist. Well, except for the red flags with yellow stars waving about everywhere, one wouldn't notice.

We went to a few nightclubs, and I checked the vehicles parked on both sides of the road. There were Mercedes' and BMWs and nothing much else. Inside I was being my usual self and breathing 'aware' breaths to lessen the impact of ciggie smoke, otherwise my eyes start watering and I start sneezing, violently and continuously, anyway, I digress. So there were the Viet teenyboppers bopping in spiky haircuts, flashes of colour in their dark straight hair, tattoos and piercings galore, celebrating birthdays and beginning of weekends to black rap, DJed by a crew cut white guy. So I was smiling to myself, screwing my eyes shut to the strobe flash and had a what's happening here moment. Some far away black angst being celebrated here with so much enthusiasm! Have never understood it. Yes, they say music is universal but especially with regards to rap I disagree. What would nightclub goers in Lower Parel or Ho Chi Minh City and elsewhere have experienced that they swear by it so much?

The big surprise for me was that the Vietnam war was Vietcong Vs US and 5 other countries.

And I experienced the amazing Chi Tunnel system. 200+ kilometers of tunnels where, for close to 2 decades the resistance fighters lived (survived would be a better word) fought and made life hell for the US led 'liberation' forces. It was, to put it mildly, an extreme experience to crawl into a veritable foxhole for just 100 meters and imagine that 4000 odd men, women and children lived in the triple-storied tunnel structure 200 km long for 16 years and fought back with ingenious weapons, booby traps and lots of will power and not much else. Pointy hats off.

Pump up the...

Filling fuel is painful now-a-days. I tend to gravitate towards the 'sada' fuel (88 Octane) every time a pump attendant asks. Now, why would I need higher Octane on my 11 year old carburettor car? Yes, a few would argue for it, but I suspect, there would be only a marginal increase in performance.

My regular, company-owned BPCL pump at Bandra-Kurla Complex has some strange rules. For the last few months they have stopped selling regular petrol and stock up only on Speed (88 Octane with additives) and Speed 97. There is no explanation for this strange behaviour. But inexplicably, they have a fuel additive on sale right there. So when I bought the additive and was about to add it to the tank before getting my weekly tank full, I discovered that only Speed was available. So now I'm stuck with a bottle of additive for the past few months and have to find a way to use it up somewhere.

Secondly, for the last few months, I have been arguing with the pump attendant and subsequently the manager, because when they swipe my credit card, they don't give me a bill, just a copy of my credit card receipt, which I am entitled to anyway. Thankfully last week, they gave me a printout which resembled a bill. Hope this moment of sagacity lasts.

Another thing that has quietly disappeared is what used to be a regular feature at better run fuel pumps. A bevy of attendants armed with squeegees and mops and suggestions to buy a dashboard cleaner and top up the oil and coolant, etc used to hover around expectantly. Where are those guys? Or will they appear only when a new customer care exercise is launched?

Talking Shop

Two experiences that make me wonder about discounts, sales and ethics. The first was just after an electronics megastore opened in north Mumbai. The objective to drive all the way there was to look see at this wonderland of gizmos and appliances and of course decide which washing machine to buy.

We reached there, started looking at the machines. The criteria being price, price and price, besides other important things like colour, looks, features, economy mode, water saver facilities, power consumption, dimensions, weight of clothes that could be washed in one go and so on. The gleaming washing machines were all lined up in a double row. Soon, my wife got really exasperated because of the seemingly endless questions that I was firing away.

The assistant, who was only fulfilling his promise to 'help us buy', got flustered the moment I got into even a slight technicality. I will ask my supervisor was all he could chirp-up every time. After twenty minutes, we were wondering what he was doing there in the first place if he didn't know his products. Other people I know have had the same experience with sales assistants in this chain of e-stores.

The supervisor duly arrived. I asked him the question, (price vs machine features) to which he replied very matter of factly that the tent cards on the few machines which said BEST BUY were actually for sale to the manufacturers and had nothing to do with recommendations or expert opinion of the store. The supervisor informed us that the particular model was about to be phased out so the manufacturer was keen to push it off the shelf faster. And so even though it was not the BEST BUY in terms of features, capacity and price, the Tent card proudly proclaimed it as one for all the gullible people streaming in.

We were shocked.

We would have trusted the store blindly because it comes from a well-renowned diversified conglomerate that is known for its honesty. We dropped into our local mini-electronics store in the neighbourhood and the price of the machine that we had liked was the same as the price in the big mega-store. In all probability he would have given us a further discount if asked.

The next incident is at a mega sale at one of India's first destinations for Shoppers. So last month we zoomed again to that northern suburb and went to the Home section. We spotted just the right soap dispenser and picked it up. It was atrociously priced at Rs 495 less 20% discount. Casually turning it over, I chanced upon the label of the same store, which said "Imported from some Chinese company and the MRP Rs 425". I asked the floor supervisor about this discrepancy where both labels were their own, while the price on top was much higher than the MRP labeled below. He said it was a stickering mistake. I said it can't be. Your own label below says it is at a lesser MRP. Is this mark-up deliberate to fool us into buying products at a 'Sale'?, I asked him. He got upset and said we have our margins to make sir. If you want, you can choose the lower price and opt for a 20% discount.

Shocking. We bought the said dispenser anyway for Rs425 less 20% discount. He quickly ordered his assistants to remove the stickering below. When questioned, he said that since I had brought this to his notice I can have the product at the lesser price. But he can't afford to give it to other people in the store.

Last week after the sale was over, I went to the Bandra branch of this Shoppers destination, and while browsing, chanced upon the same soap dispenser. Well, to my surprise the stickers above and below told the same story - Rs 425! So what was that Rs 495 price all about? A genuine mistake? Or is this how stores make money by marking up prices first and then offering discounts? It will always remain a great mystery.

Taxing Times

Stuck in a bus, I was wondering. The bus was full on a Monday morning, full of all sorts of people, blue collar, white collar and no collar. The issue was this. Bus travel is subsidized. Through tickets and through fuel (diesel/CNG). Indian buses are built on truck chassis by either Tata Motors or Ashok Leyland (well, predominantly). They are noisy, heavy, have low torque and a bitch to maneuver. These ponderous beasts along with their cousins, the overloaded trucks, verily chew up the roads. Especially in the monsoons.

Everyone was complaining about the condition of the roads in that bumpy ride to work, first day of the week.
I looked around again. On this particular route, a majority of the commuters are blue collar workers - carpenters, masons, vegetable vendors and unskilled labour on their way to work.

What were they complaining about?

Can blue collar workers complain about infrastructure when they don't pay tax?
They get wages in cash. They don't pay income tax. They don't pay road tax. They don't pay the toll to maintain bridges and freeways (some people will argue that they do, as a component of their bus ticket, however minuscule, so we shall keep road and toll taxes out of the argument).

Are the tax paying minority actually taking up the burden of all the people who are escaping or being exempt from paying tax? We hear that Mumbai contributes to approximately half the income of the government of India. But does every Mumbaiite make a contribution?

Television artists, makeup men, hairstylists, production crew, catering and so on, in just one industry, live on cash deals. So do the grocers, carpenters, traders, vegetable/fish vendors, fruit sellers, packers and movers, small restaurants and hotels, tea shops, juice-walas, milk vendors, newspaper vendors, car cleaners, maidservants, drivers, chat stall owners, parking contractors, coffee shops, cinema food vendors, pathology labs, doctors, etc.

That left me with the thought. Do taxes increase the overall standard of living? Or do they just increase the cost of living?

From Non-glazed Eyes

An account of one of many incredible journeys home after a binging session somewhere. This is one when Prabha (the boy with a girl’s name) is like totally smashed and drooping on the front seatbelt, young Shaifali is being her politically correct, finicky, with Delhiness-still-lingering self, wasted but miraculously wide awake, perched on the edge of the seat of the Maruti Suzuki 800 that I am driving back home from the far suburbs (Andheri) to town (Colaba).

This is an account of just one of the Friday nights out sometime in Nov 2001 with the other usual suspects: Sonia, Subodh, Akshay and Nitesh.

Maneesh's Story:
SFX: 98.3 FM throughout...soothing trance on the late show…
Door shuts on passenger side, Prabha squeezes in.
Prabha (smashed outta his wits, slurring): " Hmm...less go,
Silence for some time…
Prabha (suddenly): Are you putting the AC on?
Maneesh (switching fan on, it’s cold enough outside): No, no...
Shaifali: Just drop me to a rick...
Maneesh: Ya, ya (beginning to sound like Viren Viren, a guy in office who repeats everything)
Shaifali: Prabha don't sleep, oh gosh! You're not supposed to (sleep on the passenger’s side), wake up...
Prabha: (with eyes closed) Yeah, I'm awake baby...
Shaifali: Can I smoke Maneesh?
Maneesh: Err...preferably no...
Shaifali: Which is? Tell me a yes or no?
Maneesh: Preferably no...
Prabha: silence...
Shaifali: I'm just asking a straight answer...
Maneesh: No...
Prabha: silence...
Shaifali: Gosh...! (irritated, MEN!)
Maneesh: (by now passing Choksi's at Santacruz) One day I want to come here and just buy one of these... (indicating all the drool material cars at the second-hand dealer’s place)
Prabha: soft snort...
Shaifali: (suddenly buzzing) Oh fuck! I love a Pajero man, I just love it, I mean it's so sexy... Fuck, I just want three things in life, I don't want…umm jewelry things, solitaires and stuff, or gold or a house-shouse, just a Pajero...

Shaifali: Oooh! And a BMW and… and a Beetle... that's it...
Maneesh: (Practical at 3 am) Wow! How much is that...35 +30, 65, and 65 + 15 that's how much? Huh?
Shaifali: I don't know...
Prabha: (suddenly) What baby...?
Maneesh: 80 lakhs! How are you gonna get that much...?
Shaifali: I don't know... just drop me to a rick guys...no point in wasting 10 minutes, it's already late...Maneeeeesh...gosh! Just, just drop me at the corner...you don't have to...
Maneesh: it’s late…
Soon...at Shaifali's residence
Shaifali: Bye guys
Maneesh: Bye ...bye...see ya.
Prabha: Grunt ...

The miles fly...Bandra, Mahim, Dadar, Parel, Byculla, Mohammed Ali Road Flyover,

Prabha: Hrrmf

...VT, Fort, Colaba...destination for both Prabha and me.

Prabha: Huh? (Suddenly and miraculously wakes up, makes an automatic sign at the church next to his house) That's it....that's it baby... (now slurring and lisping)

Maneesh's POV: A lopsided grin and bleary eyes greet me at 2.45 am as I shift into neutral, cooling fan humming...waiting for him to get off...I smile too, which brightens the smile on Prabha's face as he tries to focus his eyes in vain.

Prabha: (slurry voice) You take care baby...you sure you're not sleepy?
You’re sure you can make it home alone? (home for me, being just a few meters away...)

Maneesh: (shrugging) Yah!
Prabha: Why don't you just park at the corner and take a cab home...
Maneesh: (stopping short of rolling my eyes) No, no. It's cool...
Prabha: Bye baby...you're sure? Okaaay...

Changing Tyres

Some brands are committed to making things easy for you, without taking the pleasure out of owning and driving an automobile. Changing tyres for example. It is a simple thing that keeps bothering me.
If a manufacturer, for example, has already found a way to make life easier, why don't all other manufacturers follow suit?
After noticing a flat tyre, normally, you fix the jack and pray that you have placed it at the right spot and haven't managed to damage the suspension or any other critical part. Especially so on slushy/wet roads when you aren't particularly keen to go down on your knees and peer under the car.
Well, BMW and Mercedes have gone ahead and made it simple. And they have for a number of years.
Look closely under the doors near the four wheel arches and you will see circles with a key hole (it's exactly that, a key hole) on BMWs or small rectangles (Mercedes). When you notice a flat, you take your car key, twist the circle out (or pry the rectangle out, as the case may be), insert the solid rod of the jack into the opening and just wind/pump the vehicle up. The four optimum spots are designed into the side skirts to help you leverage the car up precisely, without damaging the underside or the suspension bits by a wrongly placed jack.
So no crouching or peering under the body. No stress. Just a simple, clean way to jack the vehicle up.
Simple ideas are difficult, but how difficult is it to incorporate this simple idea on all vehicles?

Fuck This Book (Bodhi Oser)

A collection of real public signs that have been appended with the world's favourite four letter word. Please Don't Fuck the Pigeons. Automatic Sprinkler Fuck Off Valve. The Fuck Depot. Makes for the most hilarious coffee table book.

Local (Jaideep Varma)

As good a first book as The Kite Runner is what came to my mind just after I finished it.

For those who have travelled the Mumbai way, it's a great nostalgia trip. And for those who haven't yet, a close substitute.

If you are expecting Local (short for local trains that run in suburban Mumbai) to be a coffee table book in prose recounting interesting train journeys, then wait till the power of the narrative hits you and you get hooked on till the finish.

I thought the author has tackled the 'fleshing out' of the characters bit, in a really amazing manner, away from the main plot and yet retaining the flow.

The author's observation of people, habits, mannerisms, the hollow world of advertising, the napalm-bombed, oxygen-less life of the central character is so real it socks you in the stomach and you can't help but identify with the pain, long after you've emerged out of the book.

To write more would be injustice and any less, even more so.

Powerful stuff.

Showing The Finger To Relationships

We use our fingers not just to manipulate things with dexterity, but also to indicate things: Point. Display our mood. Affirm love. Encourage. Rebel. Indicate our destination. And so on and so forth

Almost everyone understands what we want to convey. Across genders, cultures and communities. Not to mention SEC strata (since we are so habituated by demographic divides)

We deal with people all the time in our day-to-day lives. We have relationships with them. Our relationships – with parents, spouse, girl friends, guy friends, boss, subordinates, kids, the help – are invariably very clearly defined. And often enough fall broadly under the 5 roles.

This role playing is so part of every day life that we hardly give it a thought. There are about 5 relationships that you can be in. And on either side. In a power / being led relationship. In an encourager / discourager relationship. In an abused / being abused relationship. In a love / love relationship. In an arm-twisting / faithful-dog relationship.

And these relationships can be broadly distributed on the five fingers on a hand.

Think about all the people who you deal with every day. And each relationship can be assigned to each of the five fingers.

- Thumb (encouragement/discouragement)

- Forefinger (power)

- Middle finger (abuse)

- Ring finger (love)

- Little finger (arm twisting)

An interesting way to look at them is in a purely man-woman relationship. And the fingers can be symbolic to the state they are in.

LITTLE FINGER:

The ‘Twist-around-the-little-finger’ relationships happen here. A twist, under the right conditions or with the right person, often enough takes place quite willingly, akin to sweet torture. The subconscious is always aware that one is getting twisted into the act, but there is very little resistance to it.

RING FINGER:

Then there’s the ‘He/She is the One’ relationship where you are thinking of long term commitment, love and therefore symbolized by the ring finger. These are the relationships where you know that you can take him/her home to meet your mom.

MIDDLE FINGER:

The middle finger relationships are your one-night-stands and relationships that never move beyond the physical plane, because the only thing that attracts and keeps you together (often for a very short while) are just the baser instincts. These relationships are what are called the 8-minute craving and driven by sheer lust.

FORE FINGER:

The forefinger relationships are the beckoning, come hither, power relationships where there is one dominating person and other necessarily suppressed. (Unlike the twist around the little finger relationships, where the person follows willingly and voluntarily with complete awareness and even enjoyment, the forefinger relationships can go either way. The domination could be voluntary or involuntary.) On this finger, it is good to note that most relationships are fore finger relationships. And necessarily so at times. Because someone has to take the lead. And it may not be possible to take a consensus in everyday life.

So what is the perfect relationship? One which uses all the finger-states subconsciously at various stages, for various situations and decisions. By either of the two people.

And not just the four fingers, but also the vital fifth: the thumb.

THUMB:

The thumb symbolizes encouragement. And discouragement. Just like the thumb is isolated yet part of the hand, relationships need isolation once in a while. A thumb relationship provides space, space enough for the two people to grow as individuals. Independently and together. And yet hold the relationship firmly.