Since I was to report back to Jammu on Monday I finally had a Sunday to myself or us (since Prasanna the other AUT here was to join me). I decided to experience the toy train and this time took the precaution of booking the ticket early.
This time I found company in the form of a Belgian lawyer and a Swedish couple. Europeans are generally quite and nice to talk to. The lone American tourist I had a chance to meet was at my cyber café who seemed quite interested in the songs of gangster (Himesh Reshamiya strikes again). She however was a tad loud.
Anywayz coming back to the train trip we also had a group of Israelis travelling along with us. Israeli tourists are generally quite hardy and don’t mind a little less comfort. My experience with foreign tourists has taught me that me making sense of their English and they keeping pace with my quick diction is a little tricky. So I decided to quietly click photographs when the lawyer Bernard brandished a canon DSLR. 8 MP and 12X optical zoom and I really was ready to learn French :). My conversation began with a general discussion about cameras, when I was totally taken back with his amazing command over English, (so much for pre conceived notions).
My puny cybershot seemed really insignificant in front of his monstrous DSLR. However he seemed quire surprised that my tiny little camera packed in so many features and was one of the few who had knowledge about lenses. Zeiss lenses means quality and he knew that. Our conversation then moved on to other things. He spoke about his family and the gifts he had purchased for them, I spoke about my family and he seemed surprised to find out that I had only one sibling. All Indians, he thought had 5 children or more. His passion for travelling and his knowledge about India was most amazing. Leh, he says is going to be his next port of call in India. He plans to do it on motorcycle. I was most happy to egg him on suggesting Kerala as a destination to visit as well (hey I’m ½ mall).
Once he learnt I was an MBA he also wanted advice on launching a particular product in India, which I must say I really was not qualified enough to give but I did give him loads of suggestions (gyaan :D). When we finally reached Kalka I had added one more to the large no. of friends I seem to be making. Realizing that I had loads of luggage (my strolley, lappy n my new mountain backpack) he even helped me unload it from the train.
From there I decided to head to Chgarh by cab since the luggage was really too much to carry till the bus stand. In chandigarh I then checked myself into this quite shady type hotel, since it was recommended by a friend. The food was good, though not the ambience.
Next morning Prasanna joined me for my first taste of civilization (my type :)). We headed out to Panchkula since I wanted to see a proper mall and not the mini size Chgarh shops. We then watched corporate, tickets of which we obtained through sheer luck. Corporate was a decent movie, especially with Bips flashin her dimples n a story line which we MBAs can relate with. KK seemed out of place as a businessman. He’s got too much nervous energy to pass off as a corporate. We also had Pasta (every variety available). Thankfully for me Prasanna too likes Pasta. Movie over we rushed to Rock garden, camera in hand.
Rock garden created by one Mr. Nek Chand is a tribute to creativity, says the rock outside. Quite true, each rock sculpture (actually arrangement) is amazing. We went crazy clickin pictures. A must see at least once in your lifetime.
We then headed to sukhna lake which was quite beautiful though a trifle crowded. Here too we clicked pictures and had freshly roasted corn all the while taking in the scenery. Sitting there on the banks of the lake in the slightly sultry climate I tried to remember my first marketing tour. My first tour and I had passed through 4 states (J&K, Punjab, Haryana n of course HP) one UT (Chandigarh) and made quite a few friends. Just then Som, the Shimla DS called me on my cellphone. I really had no balance to call him back n SMSed Ramit to call him. My next tour was to North Himachal, which meant forming new relationships, new friendships, learning marketing dynamics in a new way. For now I just saw the sunlight fading across the lake. We had to head back to my hotel to collect our luggage then travel to Ambala and catch a train to Jammu. And this is just the beginning.
There’s so much more to life,
I’m just at the tip of the iceberg.
Luv,
P.R.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Reality hits back
The last few days ideally should have been invested in getting good photographs, but then I was feelin super guilty about missin those 2days in Kalka due to sickness, so I got headlong into work. Part of the work involved visiting most of the bars and restaurants in and around Shimla for a project. So I got one of the DS’s from our dist n headed to cover all these hotels situated in some really amazing places. The furthest walk was to Radisson which also offered the awesomest view. Those few moments of bliss watching the crimson sunset over the spires of Radisson were most magical almost as if for a moment I was in paradise itself.
My work also involved checking up on whether our distribution n/w was working as it should be. For this you really need to understand HP. HP as a state consists mainly of hills with some valleys where you would find pockets of population. The beauty of this place is in finding stretches of awesomely beautiful glades and mountains and suddenly out of nowhere pops out a small village with a population of around 5 – 50. It doesn’t need an MBA to calculate that the cost of distribution sometimes far outweighs any benefits.
Anyway I decided to visit a few such villages which required a ride in Himachal’s state transport buses. Himachal you see is mostly connected by roads. There are only two rail routes, one the very popular Kalka – Shimla route and the other is the relatively less popular but much more beautiful Pathankhot – Kangra rail line. But much of HP is totally dependent on roads, which I must say are generally in good condition. However every third day there is a landslide, a cloudburst, a bridge falling down which means rerouting. So I got into this bus which was supposed to take me to my destination, however due to a landslide the route was modified which meant most of my instructions from Ramit went through the window. Anyway thanks to a very helpful co-passenger, a teacher at a government college some distance from Shimla I finally reached my market which consisted of about 10 shops and a bus stop. Bus rides in Himachal buses are really not too kind on your tummy, which means I always carry a strip of vitamin C to suck on in case of emergency. I really hadn’t planned on getting back into the bus so soon so I decided to see more of the ‘interiors’ of the place. My query about finding more shops from ever helpful shopkeepers had me climbing up steps along a sheer mountain face. After negotiating some of the trickiest steps I’ve ever encountered I finally reached the top of the mountain and found this one outlet who was convinced in no time about immediately stocking up on our products. Frankly if the company would send someone from Mumbai all the way to ensure he was selling their stuff, it must be good. Hee hee.
I then decided to head back down along another route hoping to find more outlets, when I came across these kids singing the National anthem next to a small building which I soon realized was their school. This was goosebump time. Suddenly I had a common thread with this small village which seemed far from the India I know. I waited till they were done, watching the cute little kids giving the best rendition of ‘Jana Gana Mana’ I have ever heard. India (it is said) is in the villages and here I was one step closer to it. I must say I headed back to Shimla feeling really happy.
Shimla was an awesome experience, which I hope to reexperience in the future. Of all the ‘lessons’ I learnt, most important is the lesson about how long a minute is? Puzzled, well then try this. Take a bottle of extra thick Shampoo which is just about to finish. Then take a bath and realize midway that you need to use that shampoo. Then watch as the shampoo takes its own sweet time to come out. Standing wet and naked in a tiny shimla bathroom early in the morning shivering as you watch that shampoo come out really teaches you how long a minute is. My next shopping trip in Jammu will definitely now involve finding sachets of my Garnier shampoo. Considerin how tuff it was to get the small bottle, that task is gonna be a bigger pain. But frankly after the chlorine treatment of the previous two years at K, my hairs in much better shape courtesy better water and advice from friends.
Learning to learn from each experience,
Luv,
Pranay
My work also involved checking up on whether our distribution n/w was working as it should be. For this you really need to understand HP. HP as a state consists mainly of hills with some valleys where you would find pockets of population. The beauty of this place is in finding stretches of awesomely beautiful glades and mountains and suddenly out of nowhere pops out a small village with a population of around 5 – 50. It doesn’t need an MBA to calculate that the cost of distribution sometimes far outweighs any benefits.
Anyway I decided to visit a few such villages which required a ride in Himachal’s state transport buses. Himachal you see is mostly connected by roads. There are only two rail routes, one the very popular Kalka – Shimla route and the other is the relatively less popular but much more beautiful Pathankhot – Kangra rail line. But much of HP is totally dependent on roads, which I must say are generally in good condition. However every third day there is a landslide, a cloudburst, a bridge falling down which means rerouting. So I got into this bus which was supposed to take me to my destination, however due to a landslide the route was modified which meant most of my instructions from Ramit went through the window. Anyway thanks to a very helpful co-passenger, a teacher at a government college some distance from Shimla I finally reached my market which consisted of about 10 shops and a bus stop. Bus rides in Himachal buses are really not too kind on your tummy, which means I always carry a strip of vitamin C to suck on in case of emergency. I really hadn’t planned on getting back into the bus so soon so I decided to see more of the ‘interiors’ of the place. My query about finding more shops from ever helpful shopkeepers had me climbing up steps along a sheer mountain face. After negotiating some of the trickiest steps I’ve ever encountered I finally reached the top of the mountain and found this one outlet who was convinced in no time about immediately stocking up on our products. Frankly if the company would send someone from Mumbai all the way to ensure he was selling their stuff, it must be good. Hee hee.
I then decided to head back down along another route hoping to find more outlets, when I came across these kids singing the National anthem next to a small building which I soon realized was their school. This was goosebump time. Suddenly I had a common thread with this small village which seemed far from the India I know. I waited till they were done, watching the cute little kids giving the best rendition of ‘Jana Gana Mana’ I have ever heard. India (it is said) is in the villages and here I was one step closer to it. I must say I headed back to Shimla feeling really happy.
Shimla was an awesome experience, which I hope to reexperience in the future. Of all the ‘lessons’ I learnt, most important is the lesson about how long a minute is? Puzzled, well then try this. Take a bottle of extra thick Shampoo which is just about to finish. Then take a bath and realize midway that you need to use that shampoo. Then watch as the shampoo takes its own sweet time to come out. Standing wet and naked in a tiny shimla bathroom early in the morning shivering as you watch that shampoo come out really teaches you how long a minute is. My next shopping trip in Jammu will definitely now involve finding sachets of my Garnier shampoo. Considerin how tuff it was to get the small bottle, that task is gonna be a bigger pain. But frankly after the chlorine treatment of the previous two years at K, my hairs in much better shape courtesy better water and advice from friends.
Learning to learn from each experience,
Luv,
Pranay
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Life amidst the hills
Hey blogspot is off limits in India. Could be one reason, I’m not blogging. Naaaaa, it’s a lil bit of touring, a lil tummy upset n loads of work. It’s going to take some amount of understanding to come to terms to a job in fmcg marketing. No amount of theory prepares you for the experience, you start with a clean slate n keep filling it on a daily basis. One thing you learn to do is question. Never assume, ask. Find something complicated, do it yourself. Learn because you are trying to learn within a few months what people take ages to understand. Ask, do and learn that’s the marketing mantra. Marketing separates the men from the boys. Getting here was a small step, the job has just begun.
Anywayz life in Shimla is pretty good considering the awesome weather. Pollution is minimum because of a ban on vehicles on mall road, that’s where were staying. But this also means that a large part of the market is covered on foot. So its climbs uphill, descents downhill which is really good exercise. I’ve taken to it so much that I decided to walk even on the markets where vehicles run. The weathers so awesome that you hardly break a sweat, but the work is not all sight seeing. There’s loads of people skills required. You might be a big shot ITC manager n all but when in the market the retailer is king over his domain.
Initially I had planned a few trips to some tourist attractions, inspired by Prasanna but then I have been touring on Sundays too. And anyway most places here are too beautiful and the markets are all tourist attractions. After my initial trigger happiness, I’ve taken to observing things. Some things are really too beautiful to photograph.
My tour schedule took me back to Solan, the place where I got the initial train pics, then one major journey to be taken was to Una. Travelling in HP is based on a hub and spoke model (hey I majored in ops too :)). You have to travel to Chandigarh and then journey from there. Ramit, the guy who was travelling with me left a day early, so it was upto me to figure out how to travel. I was travelling on a Sunday and I so wanted to experience the romance of the toy train. I reached Solan station to be told that the train ticket cant be given for some reason I couldn’t understand. I really couldn’t comprehend what the gentleman was saying, when this most angelic lady explained the situation. I must admit that I then most unashamedly latched myself to her. The trip was most beautiful and most of the train pics are courtesy the trip. I also met another most interesting lady and her son. The son was all of 55 and yet was much in awe of his sweet mother. She explained that road trips were no longer her forte and any trips to Shimla now required one of her children to escort her. The mother and son duo wanted to know what I was doing there, my job, my pay, everything. It was quite fun with the discussion veering towards property prices in Cgarh which seem to be going through the roof.
Kalka is the last stop of the beautiful train ride. I got down and was guided to Chandigarh by my angelic guide. We chatted a bit on the bus ride where I discovered that she is a fashion designer just out of college and a really nice person. I do wish her the very best in her future pursuits.
I then reached Cgarh bus depot and got onto the bus for Una. Seated next to me was this person who was most certainly ‘Pahari’ (of mountain origin). Pahari men have this hardy look, the ladies are very cute n the kids are just adorable. I’ll try and get some pics, but I really don’t want to take any pangas with their mothers.
What began as a polite enquiry about the time when I would reach Una, turned into a guided tour. I soon had my earphones off and was listening to this person by the name of Ees Indu. He owns a cab in Dharamshala. The few hours in that bus gave me more insight into the life in the hills than any of the books I purchased. He spoke about the clear cold water, the honest people, the healthy constitution, the total lack of dependence on modern allopathy with a pride that was amazing. He has invited me to visit him if I do visit Dharamshala. That’s something I hope to do.
Una was most hot n humid, very much like Chandigarh. I had an egg Biryani for dinner which was made in a very Hyderabadi style. You know verrrrrrry spicy. I really shouldn’t have eaten any of it. But I did while watching Lal Badshah and drinking the local water. I still don’t know whether it was the food or the water which caused the tummy bug, I also have my doubts on Lal Badshah. The 10 hour trip to Una immediately followed the next morning by the trip back was also not too sensible considering the change in climate. Anyway I reached Kalka and immediately decided that something wasn’t right. A trip to the local doctor confirmed a 100 deg temp and a stomach infection. 5 days rest, I was told.
What followed was one day of bad health and loneliness, since Ramit too had to leave. Ramit’s father (a resident of Kalka) was sweet enuff to get me home cooked Khichdi to alleviate my tummy cramps. I’m most happy by myself as long as I have something to muse about, but when your sick suddenly being alone isn’t too cool. Thankfully, the fever was gone by next morning and I decided I really couldn’t afford 5 days of inactivity so back to Shimla it was.
Shimla had gone a little rainy during my little time away. The roads were most magically foggy, though driving in the fog was tricky. What drivers do in such circumstances is turn on their hazard lights and closely follow the vehicle ahead.
Then back to the markets of Shimla where I seem to be meeting new people daily. There have been telecons with all my close friends, more as a result of Swap raggin me abt makin calls only when I need something. In this case tax advice from a friend. It was also fun telling Mayank about the fact that Preity Zinta’s (He’s a major fan, like me) college (St. Bedes) is part of my market and the fact that every third girl looks like her. I could smell the smoke from here :).
Shimla is in fact full of couples, kids and girls. The newly married couples are really cute, with all the hand holding and just the way they blush looking at each other. Then there are the couples with kids. Young mothers in modern attire enjoying the weekends away from Sasumaa, or much married couples showing young Chintu or Mintu the place where they were most likely conceived.
The kids are everywhere, with the n number of schools supplemented by tourist kids. They really are the most cute of the lot, very spunky and sweet and then there are the ladies, bold, independent and friendly. Shimla and Jammu are quite similar in the regard that the women have loads of independence, which is quite refreshing especially after 2 years in conservative Kkode. Infact if not for the view, Shimla is a lot like Mbai especially with all the outlets. Everything is here, except for a StanC ATM of course. I’ve already eaten hot Pizza, warm buns, awesome ice-cream and good lemon tea.
Well it’s almost a month and time to go back to Jammu for a week of HQ activity. Shimla has been a nice place, a must visit for everybody. I really could not visit any specific tourist attractions but did find time to courier home some Tibetan stuff. Mostly colourful stuff (two silk handbags and a couple of earings) more to my sis’s liking, though it just about met maa’s approval and a Tshirt for dad. For Djay my bil I got a Shimla cap.
Life meanwhile has been going on. Parag, one of the victims of the Mbai train blasts and one of my close friends is recovering from the severe back burns. What was initially a news causing some tension has been diffused Mbai style. Parag apparently got a 50K compensation from the government and we friends are already planning a party. Prince the little boy who fell in the long long hole in quite the Alice in Wonderland style is out already being promised a sum of 2 Lacs and life long free education, prompting a friend to mention that he’s already begun searching for a hole. If you were lucky enough to see the media circus around the event, you’ll know what I am talking about. I of course was as relieved as anyone else to see the young kid out, but I do hope it doesn’t begin a trend of kids getting stuck in holes.
Well so much for the short post I was hoping to write, I better get back to work.
Here’s Pranay once again in the midst of paradise,
Thanking god for a nice initiation into marketing
Luv
P.R.
Anywayz life in Shimla is pretty good considering the awesome weather. Pollution is minimum because of a ban on vehicles on mall road, that’s where were staying. But this also means that a large part of the market is covered on foot. So its climbs uphill, descents downhill which is really good exercise. I’ve taken to it so much that I decided to walk even on the markets where vehicles run. The weathers so awesome that you hardly break a sweat, but the work is not all sight seeing. There’s loads of people skills required. You might be a big shot ITC manager n all but when in the market the retailer is king over his domain.
Initially I had planned a few trips to some tourist attractions, inspired by Prasanna but then I have been touring on Sundays too. And anyway most places here are too beautiful and the markets are all tourist attractions. After my initial trigger happiness, I’ve taken to observing things. Some things are really too beautiful to photograph.
My tour schedule took me back to Solan, the place where I got the initial train pics, then one major journey to be taken was to Una. Travelling in HP is based on a hub and spoke model (hey I majored in ops too :)). You have to travel to Chandigarh and then journey from there. Ramit, the guy who was travelling with me left a day early, so it was upto me to figure out how to travel. I was travelling on a Sunday and I so wanted to experience the romance of the toy train. I reached Solan station to be told that the train ticket cant be given for some reason I couldn’t understand. I really couldn’t comprehend what the gentleman was saying, when this most angelic lady explained the situation. I must admit that I then most unashamedly latched myself to her. The trip was most beautiful and most of the train pics are courtesy the trip. I also met another most interesting lady and her son. The son was all of 55 and yet was much in awe of his sweet mother. She explained that road trips were no longer her forte and any trips to Shimla now required one of her children to escort her. The mother and son duo wanted to know what I was doing there, my job, my pay, everything. It was quite fun with the discussion veering towards property prices in Cgarh which seem to be going through the roof.
Kalka is the last stop of the beautiful train ride. I got down and was guided to Chandigarh by my angelic guide. We chatted a bit on the bus ride where I discovered that she is a fashion designer just out of college and a really nice person. I do wish her the very best in her future pursuits.
I then reached Cgarh bus depot and got onto the bus for Una. Seated next to me was this person who was most certainly ‘Pahari’ (of mountain origin). Pahari men have this hardy look, the ladies are very cute n the kids are just adorable. I’ll try and get some pics, but I really don’t want to take any pangas with their mothers.
What began as a polite enquiry about the time when I would reach Una, turned into a guided tour. I soon had my earphones off and was listening to this person by the name of Ees Indu. He owns a cab in Dharamshala. The few hours in that bus gave me more insight into the life in the hills than any of the books I purchased. He spoke about the clear cold water, the honest people, the healthy constitution, the total lack of dependence on modern allopathy with a pride that was amazing. He has invited me to visit him if I do visit Dharamshala. That’s something I hope to do.
Una was most hot n humid, very much like Chandigarh. I had an egg Biryani for dinner which was made in a very Hyderabadi style. You know verrrrrrry spicy. I really shouldn’t have eaten any of it. But I did while watching Lal Badshah and drinking the local water. I still don’t know whether it was the food or the water which caused the tummy bug, I also have my doubts on Lal Badshah. The 10 hour trip to Una immediately followed the next morning by the trip back was also not too sensible considering the change in climate. Anyway I reached Kalka and immediately decided that something wasn’t right. A trip to the local doctor confirmed a 100 deg temp and a stomach infection. 5 days rest, I was told.
What followed was one day of bad health and loneliness, since Ramit too had to leave. Ramit’s father (a resident of Kalka) was sweet enuff to get me home cooked Khichdi to alleviate my tummy cramps. I’m most happy by myself as long as I have something to muse about, but when your sick suddenly being alone isn’t too cool. Thankfully, the fever was gone by next morning and I decided I really couldn’t afford 5 days of inactivity so back to Shimla it was.
Shimla had gone a little rainy during my little time away. The roads were most magically foggy, though driving in the fog was tricky. What drivers do in such circumstances is turn on their hazard lights and closely follow the vehicle ahead.
Then back to the markets of Shimla where I seem to be meeting new people daily. There have been telecons with all my close friends, more as a result of Swap raggin me abt makin calls only when I need something. In this case tax advice from a friend. It was also fun telling Mayank about the fact that Preity Zinta’s (He’s a major fan, like me) college (St. Bedes) is part of my market and the fact that every third girl looks like her. I could smell the smoke from here :).
Shimla is in fact full of couples, kids and girls. The newly married couples are really cute, with all the hand holding and just the way they blush looking at each other. Then there are the couples with kids. Young mothers in modern attire enjoying the weekends away from Sasumaa, or much married couples showing young Chintu or Mintu the place where they were most likely conceived.
The kids are everywhere, with the n number of schools supplemented by tourist kids. They really are the most cute of the lot, very spunky and sweet and then there are the ladies, bold, independent and friendly. Shimla and Jammu are quite similar in the regard that the women have loads of independence, which is quite refreshing especially after 2 years in conservative Kkode. Infact if not for the view, Shimla is a lot like Mbai especially with all the outlets. Everything is here, except for a StanC ATM of course. I’ve already eaten hot Pizza, warm buns, awesome ice-cream and good lemon tea.
Well it’s almost a month and time to go back to Jammu for a week of HQ activity. Shimla has been a nice place, a must visit for everybody. I really could not visit any specific tourist attractions but did find time to courier home some Tibetan stuff. Mostly colourful stuff (two silk handbags and a couple of earings) more to my sis’s liking, though it just about met maa’s approval and a Tshirt for dad. For Djay my bil I got a Shimla cap.
Life meanwhile has been going on. Parag, one of the victims of the Mbai train blasts and one of my close friends is recovering from the severe back burns. What was initially a news causing some tension has been diffused Mbai style. Parag apparently got a 50K compensation from the government and we friends are already planning a party. Prince the little boy who fell in the long long hole in quite the Alice in Wonderland style is out already being promised a sum of 2 Lacs and life long free education, prompting a friend to mention that he’s already begun searching for a hole. If you were lucky enough to see the media circus around the event, you’ll know what I am talking about. I of course was as relieved as anyone else to see the young kid out, but I do hope it doesn’t begin a trend of kids getting stuck in holes.
Well so much for the short post I was hoping to write, I better get back to work.
Here’s Pranay once again in the midst of paradise,
Thanking god for a nice initiation into marketing
Luv
P.R.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Salaam Mumbai
It was 18:30- 18:45 when I was just considering phoning mother since I had seen the news of the Srinagar blasts. Me being in Jammu branch, even though I’m currently in Shimla means that Maa likes a daily call of my whereabouts. It was then that I saw the first news about the bomb blasts along the western network. I immediately tried calling my parents and received messages about the jammed networks. The pictures on Star News were thankfully not as graphic as the ones on other channels, but still watching a hole through the train compartment was weird. This couldn’t be happening not to a Mumbai train and that also in rush hour !!!
What followed was messages from Rashmi about the blasts (her friend saw one from her house), me phoning Mayank to inform him and finding out that he was trying me. Many of my close friends were working outside Mumbai, but all of us have relatives there and there are loads of friends there. Finally my sis got a sms through telling me that everyone at home was safe. My first selfish reaction was happiness on finding my near and dear ones happy and then feeling a little guilty and a little weird seeing the visuals and the statistics on the screen. I was in Solan, outside my window was the most beautiful sight you could ever see, green mountains and toy trains trundling by. It seems so weird that both these things were happening in the same world. My mind of course moved to my memories (nearly all happy ones) of local trains in Mumbai.
My first train ride in Mumbai was probably in nappies, so I really don’t remember much though there is a faint memory of all the passengers gushing over me. My earliest verifiable memory though was that of my mother feeding me bread and omelette in the train while taking my sister to school in Borivali from Parel, where we then lived. Food is more the stimuli of that memory than anything else.
As kids our chief train excursions were to Ambekar Nagar, Parel where my grandfather (Maa’s dad) had a house and where we briefly stayed. His rubber business involved him travelling from Mumbai-Kerala on a frequent basis. We also had monthly trips to town (Churchgate) which meant a movie and loads of eats. Those local train trips were most heavenly. Locking in the window seat and peering out trying to identify places. As a kid it is really very important that you get a window seat. Even if you did not you could always stand at the window, staring out while holding the bars like in one of those jail scenes, till invariably some kind soul gives you a little space to sit. Even then my sister would periodically show off her knowledge of the stations along the route (something I’m still not clear about). There would be the wait with bated breath for Santacruz station, because beyond it was the airport which meant if you were really lucky you could see an aeroplane taking off. Believe me there’s nothing more exciting than a flight taking off just as you are travelling in a train. I always wanted to capture that memory, maybe that was what really triggered off my passion for photography.
No sooner was that over then we would keep our noses wide open for the stench emanating from the Bandra creek. The stench would mean that we were close to the drive-in theatre and we would crane our necks and peer out trying to catch a glimpse of the movie that was running. If we were lucky we could even catch part of a movie scene or a dance sequence, from which my film buff sister would identify the movie.
One off travel in Mumbai is generally by second class, where the seats are hard and people travelling are representative of the social spectrum of Mumbai. Regular travel (if you can afford it or are a student) is by first class. Dad sometimes took one of us along with him to the first class which seemed really quite awesome compared to the crowded second class. Of course then first class could be quite empty and even second class was not that crowded, especially since we boarded at Borivali, where you could catch a starting train.
I was quite fortunate in the sense that I never had to travel much in rush hour. A one-off football match or some quiz/elocution contest was probably the only times I had to travel in rush hour and even then you could always count on some kind passenger guiding you, giving you their seat, proxy guardians, ever helpful Mumbaites. My engineering college was in Vasai, which usually meant a peaceful (relatively) uncrowded train ride against the rush. Quite unlike the life of a quintessential Mumbaikar/Mumbaite
Mumbaite - my lack of linguistic and cultural identity has always been explained by this one word. A mumbaite can be Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, etc etc, he/she could have originated from any corner of India, but slowly over the years he becomes a Mumbaite. He learns to live life in the fastrack. Every minute of his life utilised in bringing him closer to his goal, the reason he came here. Money, an outsider would say is the only reason he stays here, money is the lifeline, the heart of the city.
My life as a third generation Mumbaite has meant that I probably have a better understanding of this city than many others, my travails across India over the past few years has probably reinforced the fact that more money can be earned by a farmer in Punjab, or a timber merchant in Himachal or a rubber plantation owner in Kerala, but the one thing that pulls people to Mumbai is opportunity. A promise of recognition for his effort, a lifestyle unparalleled anywhere else. An identity solely based on what he has achieved rather than what his lineage is. Where he is what he desires to become. Money is not the heart of the city, the heart is its people and money never can be its lifeline, because that space is firmly reserved for the local train..
The local train-Mumbai’s unsung hero, the urban transport system which carries the maximum number of people, unmatched by any other system anywhere in the world is the lifeline of this city and in many ways the lifeline of the country. I was just watching a foreign news broadcast comparing the efficiency of the system to the London underground. We tend to crib when one bad rain causes delays or there is some sort of technical snag, but how many of us have marvelled at this marvel of modern transportation carrying loads far in excess of what it was designed for, leaving over crowded terminuses at intervals of a few minutes reaching the desired station mostly on time, rarely a minute or so off the schedule. Millions of people have their lives linked to the rail network, their punctuality.
If you have lived in Mumbai, you probably have seen a very harried lady, standing at a bus stop, repeatedly checking her watch muttering to her equally harried friend that ‘8:10 ki local nikal gayi to late remark milega’ or some bright college student (like me) whose attendance of the first lecture depends entirely on the local reaching at 9:05 for a 9 o’clock lecture since it is a good 300 metre run to his college and the lecturer closes the doors at 9:10, hoping to god that the train reaches on time.
In fact, considering the limited infrastructure and the zillion expansion problems, I believe that prayers are what helps the trains run on time. At any given time there are a few million people on the platform praying that the train reaches on time, that the seats in the direction they run to are empty. People in the train praying that the seat they are standing next to gets empty, college guys praying that the hottest girl in college gets into the middle first class just across the wire partition, mothers praying that they reach home before their children, card players praying that the next card brings them luck, businessmen praying that the gold prices stay up, stock brokers praying that they do not miss any early market fluctuations and if that were not enough, you have entire bhajan Mandalis praying at their top of their voice really unconcerned if the hullabaloo causes any inconvenience to others. Not electricity and of course not systems, its prayer that drives the Mumbai locals.
And then one day some spineless wimp hidden in some corner of the great city itself decides that we bombed their most important commercial centres and it didn’t affect them one bit, we tried to fervour religious hatred and they overcame that, lets attack their lifeline, lets attack the local trains and doing that lets also kill the heart of Mumbai, its people and lets do it during rush hour when people will die in plenty and we won’t even be detected in the large crowds. Cowardice is after all the first important quality needed to join any of these organizations. When you can’t make it in life, kill those who work hard to do that.
I phoned my granny and uncle in Kerala assuring them that everyone at home was fine. Both of them had not even heard of the bomb blasts. My granny sounded a little tense. Unlike me she was immediately concerned about those injured in the blasts. She also thanked god that we were all fine. The reminder of the nite was spent watching visuals of the trains which were soon replaced by visuals of Mumbaites helping each other out. Volunteers were doling out food, water and other essentials, women were being helped into passenger vehicles and were being reached home by strangers. Mumbai’s heart cannot be affected by so insignificant an act, we are alive and kicking. Mr. faceless-nameless-courageless terrorist, you’ll have to do better, much better. Watching the visuals filled me with pride, the same feeling you get when you hear the national anthem or seeing an Indian sportsman win something, or hear about an Indian soldiers courage. I now feel even more proud of being a Mumbaikar. Me Mumbaikar, that is my identity and I am proud of it.
The next day came news from the people I know. Most people I know are safe, mostly assumed from the lack of any bad news. Prem uncle, dad’s younger bro was in the compartment of the train that burst some distance away from Mira rd. He lives in Mira road. My friend Mona who normally takes that train took an earlier train because she had one of her religious fasts going and was really hungry. Many were not as fortunate. Several houses lost their breadwinners, more importantly they lost a member of their family. No amount of compensation will ever replace that. These people did not belong to any specific religion, they had no specific ideology, they probably did not even impact public opinion, but some idiot’s lunacy caused their death. If anything they were guilty of wanting to reach home and meet their near and dear ones.
The reaction to this blasts is nothing out of the ordinary. The mumbaite responded with his usual resilience, the leaders with the usual blame Pakistan rhetoric. No concrete action against any terrorist group will be taken, except for the usual banning of a few organisations. After all this isn’t the bombing of the Indian parliament, that we need to react strongly.
What will follow are criminal investigations which will all lead to POK and Pak, a few muslim youths who are as Indian as anyone else will be hauled up and questioned, in the process alienating them and then our agencies will put up their hands expressing their inability to do anything. We are not Israel you see. We shall follow policies and procedures, raise the issue with the Pak ambassador who will go back home and have a hearty laugh on our ineffectiveness. We’ll talk about reduction in CBMs with a dictator run country and will raise the issue in the UN, the forum where we lost Kashmir in the first place. We are after all India, the only nation in the world which has its premier commando outfit (NSG) guarding its leaders, the whipping boy of every organisation which can raise funds for an AK-47.
Maybe I’m overreacting because this happened so close home and not in some far corner of Kashmir (which really is quite close home nowadays). Maybe we really need all of us to react strongly. I really don’t know. All I know is that I am proud of all the mumbaikars who got up the next morning and decided to travel to office/school/college in the same local trains inspite of all that happened.
Salaam Mumbai, I salute u
- Pranay
What followed was messages from Rashmi about the blasts (her friend saw one from her house), me phoning Mayank to inform him and finding out that he was trying me. Many of my close friends were working outside Mumbai, but all of us have relatives there and there are loads of friends there. Finally my sis got a sms through telling me that everyone at home was safe. My first selfish reaction was happiness on finding my near and dear ones happy and then feeling a little guilty and a little weird seeing the visuals and the statistics on the screen. I was in Solan, outside my window was the most beautiful sight you could ever see, green mountains and toy trains trundling by. It seems so weird that both these things were happening in the same world. My mind of course moved to my memories (nearly all happy ones) of local trains in Mumbai.
My first train ride in Mumbai was probably in nappies, so I really don’t remember much though there is a faint memory of all the passengers gushing over me. My earliest verifiable memory though was that of my mother feeding me bread and omelette in the train while taking my sister to school in Borivali from Parel, where we then lived. Food is more the stimuli of that memory than anything else.
As kids our chief train excursions were to Ambekar Nagar, Parel where my grandfather (Maa’s dad) had a house and where we briefly stayed. His rubber business involved him travelling from Mumbai-Kerala on a frequent basis. We also had monthly trips to town (Churchgate) which meant a movie and loads of eats. Those local train trips were most heavenly. Locking in the window seat and peering out trying to identify places. As a kid it is really very important that you get a window seat. Even if you did not you could always stand at the window, staring out while holding the bars like in one of those jail scenes, till invariably some kind soul gives you a little space to sit. Even then my sister would periodically show off her knowledge of the stations along the route (something I’m still not clear about). There would be the wait with bated breath for Santacruz station, because beyond it was the airport which meant if you were really lucky you could see an aeroplane taking off. Believe me there’s nothing more exciting than a flight taking off just as you are travelling in a train. I always wanted to capture that memory, maybe that was what really triggered off my passion for photography.
No sooner was that over then we would keep our noses wide open for the stench emanating from the Bandra creek. The stench would mean that we were close to the drive-in theatre and we would crane our necks and peer out trying to catch a glimpse of the movie that was running. If we were lucky we could even catch part of a movie scene or a dance sequence, from which my film buff sister would identify the movie.
One off travel in Mumbai is generally by second class, where the seats are hard and people travelling are representative of the social spectrum of Mumbai. Regular travel (if you can afford it or are a student) is by first class. Dad sometimes took one of us along with him to the first class which seemed really quite awesome compared to the crowded second class. Of course then first class could be quite empty and even second class was not that crowded, especially since we boarded at Borivali, where you could catch a starting train.
I was quite fortunate in the sense that I never had to travel much in rush hour. A one-off football match or some quiz/elocution contest was probably the only times I had to travel in rush hour and even then you could always count on some kind passenger guiding you, giving you their seat, proxy guardians, ever helpful Mumbaites. My engineering college was in Vasai, which usually meant a peaceful (relatively) uncrowded train ride against the rush. Quite unlike the life of a quintessential Mumbaikar/Mumbaite
Mumbaite - my lack of linguistic and cultural identity has always been explained by this one word. A mumbaite can be Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, etc etc, he/she could have originated from any corner of India, but slowly over the years he becomes a Mumbaite. He learns to live life in the fastrack. Every minute of his life utilised in bringing him closer to his goal, the reason he came here. Money, an outsider would say is the only reason he stays here, money is the lifeline, the heart of the city.
My life as a third generation Mumbaite has meant that I probably have a better understanding of this city than many others, my travails across India over the past few years has probably reinforced the fact that more money can be earned by a farmer in Punjab, or a timber merchant in Himachal or a rubber plantation owner in Kerala, but the one thing that pulls people to Mumbai is opportunity. A promise of recognition for his effort, a lifestyle unparalleled anywhere else. An identity solely based on what he has achieved rather than what his lineage is. Where he is what he desires to become. Money is not the heart of the city, the heart is its people and money never can be its lifeline, because that space is firmly reserved for the local train..
The local train-Mumbai’s unsung hero, the urban transport system which carries the maximum number of people, unmatched by any other system anywhere in the world is the lifeline of this city and in many ways the lifeline of the country. I was just watching a foreign news broadcast comparing the efficiency of the system to the London underground. We tend to crib when one bad rain causes delays or there is some sort of technical snag, but how many of us have marvelled at this marvel of modern transportation carrying loads far in excess of what it was designed for, leaving over crowded terminuses at intervals of a few minutes reaching the desired station mostly on time, rarely a minute or so off the schedule. Millions of people have their lives linked to the rail network, their punctuality.
If you have lived in Mumbai, you probably have seen a very harried lady, standing at a bus stop, repeatedly checking her watch muttering to her equally harried friend that ‘8:10 ki local nikal gayi to late remark milega’ or some bright college student (like me) whose attendance of the first lecture depends entirely on the local reaching at 9:05 for a 9 o’clock lecture since it is a good 300 metre run to his college and the lecturer closes the doors at 9:10, hoping to god that the train reaches on time.
In fact, considering the limited infrastructure and the zillion expansion problems, I believe that prayers are what helps the trains run on time. At any given time there are a few million people on the platform praying that the train reaches on time, that the seats in the direction they run to are empty. People in the train praying that the seat they are standing next to gets empty, college guys praying that the hottest girl in college gets into the middle first class just across the wire partition, mothers praying that they reach home before their children, card players praying that the next card brings them luck, businessmen praying that the gold prices stay up, stock brokers praying that they do not miss any early market fluctuations and if that were not enough, you have entire bhajan Mandalis praying at their top of their voice really unconcerned if the hullabaloo causes any inconvenience to others. Not electricity and of course not systems, its prayer that drives the Mumbai locals.
And then one day some spineless wimp hidden in some corner of the great city itself decides that we bombed their most important commercial centres and it didn’t affect them one bit, we tried to fervour religious hatred and they overcame that, lets attack their lifeline, lets attack the local trains and doing that lets also kill the heart of Mumbai, its people and lets do it during rush hour when people will die in plenty and we won’t even be detected in the large crowds. Cowardice is after all the first important quality needed to join any of these organizations. When you can’t make it in life, kill those who work hard to do that.
I phoned my granny and uncle in Kerala assuring them that everyone at home was fine. Both of them had not even heard of the bomb blasts. My granny sounded a little tense. Unlike me she was immediately concerned about those injured in the blasts. She also thanked god that we were all fine. The reminder of the nite was spent watching visuals of the trains which were soon replaced by visuals of Mumbaites helping each other out. Volunteers were doling out food, water and other essentials, women were being helped into passenger vehicles and were being reached home by strangers. Mumbai’s heart cannot be affected by so insignificant an act, we are alive and kicking. Mr. faceless-nameless-courageless terrorist, you’ll have to do better, much better. Watching the visuals filled me with pride, the same feeling you get when you hear the national anthem or seeing an Indian sportsman win something, or hear about an Indian soldiers courage. I now feel even more proud of being a Mumbaikar. Me Mumbaikar, that is my identity and I am proud of it.
The next day came news from the people I know. Most people I know are safe, mostly assumed from the lack of any bad news. Prem uncle, dad’s younger bro was in the compartment of the train that burst some distance away from Mira rd. He lives in Mira road. My friend Mona who normally takes that train took an earlier train because she had one of her religious fasts going and was really hungry. Many were not as fortunate. Several houses lost their breadwinners, more importantly they lost a member of their family. No amount of compensation will ever replace that. These people did not belong to any specific religion, they had no specific ideology, they probably did not even impact public opinion, but some idiot’s lunacy caused their death. If anything they were guilty of wanting to reach home and meet their near and dear ones.
The reaction to this blasts is nothing out of the ordinary. The mumbaite responded with his usual resilience, the leaders with the usual blame Pakistan rhetoric. No concrete action against any terrorist group will be taken, except for the usual banning of a few organisations. After all this isn’t the bombing of the Indian parliament, that we need to react strongly.
What will follow are criminal investigations which will all lead to POK and Pak, a few muslim youths who are as Indian as anyone else will be hauled up and questioned, in the process alienating them and then our agencies will put up their hands expressing their inability to do anything. We are not Israel you see. We shall follow policies and procedures, raise the issue with the Pak ambassador who will go back home and have a hearty laugh on our ineffectiveness. We’ll talk about reduction in CBMs with a dictator run country and will raise the issue in the UN, the forum where we lost Kashmir in the first place. We are after all India, the only nation in the world which has its premier commando outfit (NSG) guarding its leaders, the whipping boy of every organisation which can raise funds for an AK-47.
Maybe I’m overreacting because this happened so close home and not in some far corner of Kashmir (which really is quite close home nowadays). Maybe we really need all of us to react strongly. I really don’t know. All I know is that I am proud of all the mumbaikars who got up the next morning and decided to travel to office/school/college in the same local trains inspite of all that happened.
Salaam Mumbai, I salute u
- Pranay
Friday, July 07, 2006
Answering the call of the hills
We were supposed to leave at 6 am, however Ramit, the guy I was going to Shimla with, had to meet our boss in the morning. We tried hard to make reservations but all the buses were at nite and the trains were full, so at last we headed out to Chandigarh in an Indica. The journey was through Punjab and Haryana which meant beautiful scenery on both sides. The furthest north I have ever been is Delhi and that was when the only reason people went to Gurgaon was to get chilled beer on a dry day.
So this trip was good fun. What tickled me was the fact that I would be travelling south to Punjab.
I simply went wild clicking snaps all along the way and some of the pics came out real nice. I always prefer a train journey to a car for the simple space it provides and also the lack of diesel fumes. But this journey was really nice.
We reached Chandigarh a little late because of a problem in the car. We were contemplating whether we should try travelling to Shimla in the nite or just reach Solan or stay back at Chandigarh. Chandigarh, the most planned city in India is nice looking, though a tad hot. I really wouldn’t have minded a nite there, but that would totally jeopardize our schedule.
So as soon as we confirmed 2 rooms in a Solan hotel we got into a jam packed state transport bus and left.
The journey was quite cool. I always thought travelling on hilly roads in the nite is dangerous. The experience Chetts, Mayank, Thakur n I had on our nite journey to Waynad probably played on my mind. Of course then it was raining cats and dogs and we were on bikes. Ramit explained that night time is probably the safest since the headlights of the oncoming vehicle serves as an indicator of any vehicle on blind turns. That was one cool insight, something that comes only with good local knowledge and experience.
The awesomest moment was at a point in the night when our bus suddenly stopped. Soon there was a rumbling sound and out of the night came this most magical small train. It disappeared equally magically into the tunnel. Ramit tried hard to capture the train using the night mode of my cam, but that really doesn’t work on moving objects. Increased exposure time just causes lines and you need a tripod or a very very still hand to capture a pic in that mode. Most others on the bus looked like it was the most normal thing happening. I then requested Ramit that we must travel by this train within this trip and he’s already making plans.
We reached Solan at around 12 when no self respecting Rick guy stays awake. Finally a long distance taxi operator took pity upon us and asked his driver to drop us at our hotel for a small fee. He also took it upon himself to educate me for a full 5 minutes about the hotel taxi operator nexus and how I could count on him for any trip in Solan.
We finally reached Solan where I found the room quite nice and clean and crashed out within the first 15 minutes of the 2nd semi-final. With this I create a record of seeing the fewest complete world cup matches during a World cup, mostly because I had to get up early for work. Work before world cup, I guess marketing is realllllllly interesting. Well the absence of a football crazy father and sister by my side could also be a reason. I did see the early matches on all days with Prasanna (an avid football fan) for company.
Anyway next morning I got up at 7 to be greeted by this most breath taking view. It’s like the view at K multiplied 100 times. Facing me were the most beautiful hills and below the hotel tracks going towards a tunnel. I decided to recharge my camera batteries which I had last recharged in Mumbai. My DSC W5 really gives me a good number of photos per charge. No sooner had I done that when I heard a rumbling sound.
It took me one full minute to realize that it was the train passing below the hotel. I jumped to my charger pulled out the batteries with the charger still on, loaded the camera and ran to the window and found that the train was already some distance away which required some panning, zooming and adjustment for a couple of shots just before the train disappeared into the tunnel. These are the times I appreciate, the quicker response of my camera.
We then moved to the bus stand. I carried along my Sis’s strolley to Shimla. It’s really cool for airports but very unwieldy for public transport. I really should’ve taken the carry bags. Anyway the journey to Shimla was quite interesting, especially since the view was so fab. The roads along the way are packed with buildings for most parts and then out of nowhere comes into view the most mouth watering valley. The building part of the road looks very similar to the Monte Carlo circuit in NFS 5. small, winding and interesting.
We then took a bus to the lift, which is simply a set of two standalone lifts designed to carry people up and down a hill. Great idea.
We then employed a coolie for some distance to the hotel. The porters (men and women) here are quite the part of the landscape. I’ve already seen them carrying weights on their backs which require some physical effort. They are generally hilly people with (generally) a blue jacket and a rope, used to tie huge loads on their backs.
Our hotel had quite the nice view but we really had to rush for work. After work we went to the ridge and tried out some nite photography. Nite photography in the fog means using the flash as sparingly as possible as fog (being water droplets) reflects the light. Try to use ambient light or get as close to the subject as possible. You can also use ur camera’s night mode albeit with a very still hand/tripod for good still photography. You can also focus on objects using the precision focus.
Anyway that done we headed home. Shimla unlike Jammu is awake way into the night. It has every possible outlet you can conceive, except for a StanC branch :( and has all these colonial style buildings which add to the old world charm of this hustling bustling hill station.
BTWcheck out my pictures at http://www.flickr.com/photos/pranayrao/
luv,
P.R.
So this trip was good fun. What tickled me was the fact that I would be travelling south to Punjab.
I simply went wild clicking snaps all along the way and some of the pics came out real nice. I always prefer a train journey to a car for the simple space it provides and also the lack of diesel fumes. But this journey was really nice.
We reached Chandigarh a little late because of a problem in the car. We were contemplating whether we should try travelling to Shimla in the nite or just reach Solan or stay back at Chandigarh. Chandigarh, the most planned city in India is nice looking, though a tad hot. I really wouldn’t have minded a nite there, but that would totally jeopardize our schedule.
So as soon as we confirmed 2 rooms in a Solan hotel we got into a jam packed state transport bus and left.
The journey was quite cool. I always thought travelling on hilly roads in the nite is dangerous. The experience Chetts, Mayank, Thakur n I had on our nite journey to Waynad probably played on my mind. Of course then it was raining cats and dogs and we were on bikes. Ramit explained that night time is probably the safest since the headlights of the oncoming vehicle serves as an indicator of any vehicle on blind turns. That was one cool insight, something that comes only with good local knowledge and experience.
The awesomest moment was at a point in the night when our bus suddenly stopped. Soon there was a rumbling sound and out of the night came this most magical small train. It disappeared equally magically into the tunnel. Ramit tried hard to capture the train using the night mode of my cam, but that really doesn’t work on moving objects. Increased exposure time just causes lines and you need a tripod or a very very still hand to capture a pic in that mode. Most others on the bus looked like it was the most normal thing happening. I then requested Ramit that we must travel by this train within this trip and he’s already making plans.
We reached Solan at around 12 when no self respecting Rick guy stays awake. Finally a long distance taxi operator took pity upon us and asked his driver to drop us at our hotel for a small fee. He also took it upon himself to educate me for a full 5 minutes about the hotel taxi operator nexus and how I could count on him for any trip in Solan.
We finally reached Solan where I found the room quite nice and clean and crashed out within the first 15 minutes of the 2nd semi-final. With this I create a record of seeing the fewest complete world cup matches during a World cup, mostly because I had to get up early for work. Work before world cup, I guess marketing is realllllllly interesting. Well the absence of a football crazy father and sister by my side could also be a reason. I did see the early matches on all days with Prasanna (an avid football fan) for company.
Anyway next morning I got up at 7 to be greeted by this most breath taking view. It’s like the view at K multiplied 100 times. Facing me were the most beautiful hills and below the hotel tracks going towards a tunnel. I decided to recharge my camera batteries which I had last recharged in Mumbai. My DSC W5 really gives me a good number of photos per charge. No sooner had I done that when I heard a rumbling sound.
It took me one full minute to realize that it was the train passing below the hotel. I jumped to my charger pulled out the batteries with the charger still on, loaded the camera and ran to the window and found that the train was already some distance away which required some panning, zooming and adjustment for a couple of shots just before the train disappeared into the tunnel. These are the times I appreciate, the quicker response of my camera.
We then moved to the bus stand. I carried along my Sis’s strolley to Shimla. It’s really cool for airports but very unwieldy for public transport. I really should’ve taken the carry bags. Anyway the journey to Shimla was quite interesting, especially since the view was so fab. The roads along the way are packed with buildings for most parts and then out of nowhere comes into view the most mouth watering valley. The building part of the road looks very similar to the Monte Carlo circuit in NFS 5. small, winding and interesting.
We then took a bus to the lift, which is simply a set of two standalone lifts designed to carry people up and down a hill. Great idea.
We then employed a coolie for some distance to the hotel. The porters (men and women) here are quite the part of the landscape. I’ve already seen them carrying weights on their backs which require some physical effort. They are generally hilly people with (generally) a blue jacket and a rope, used to tie huge loads on their backs.
Our hotel had quite the nice view but we really had to rush for work. After work we went to the ridge and tried out some nite photography. Nite photography in the fog means using the flash as sparingly as possible as fog (being water droplets) reflects the light. Try to use ambient light or get as close to the subject as possible. You can also use ur camera’s night mode albeit with a very still hand/tripod for good still photography. You can also focus on objects using the precision focus.
Anyway that done we headed home. Shimla unlike Jammu is awake way into the night. It has every possible outlet you can conceive, except for a StanC branch :( and has all these colonial style buildings which add to the old world charm of this hustling bustling hill station.
BTWcheck out my pictures at http://www.flickr.com/photos/pranayrao/
luv,
P.R.
The travails of two south Indian boys in suspensionless rickshaws in Mumble land
The travails of two south Indian boys in suspensionless rickshaws in Mumbloo land
Tuesday morning. My life began in Mumbai, quite the centre of my universe till my higher education took me down south to K. The induction was at Cal in the east and now I was heading north. Quite the ‘char dhaam yatra’. My itinerary was flying to Delhi and then taking another flight to Jammu. I now know Cal airport quite well and its quite nice. We were a large group of people. Some heading to Saharanpur in UP and we to Jammu.
Delhi airport was really quite unimpressive and we spent some time waiting for the Jammu flight and getting to know each other. Prasanna hails from Chennai and has done his MBA at L. He had just been to Jammu some time back. Which is nice to hear. The flight to Jammu has extra security, which involved identifying our baggage before the flight and loads of security checks.
The flight took off an hour late, thanks to lack of a runway. We (Prasanna and me) then headed out to Jammu. I slept on both flights because we had woken up so early. There was loads of turbulence before we made a smooth landing at Jammu.
Jammu, the land of temples (says the tourism site), has an airport which looks like a temple itself. We land to find the place quite warm and not the cold place I had pictured.
Coming out of the airport we found ourselves facing machine gun carrying soldiers standing and a UN vehicle parked right in front. It looks like one of those scenes from a CNN Kosovo broadcast. I so wanted to finally find someone waiting placard in hand waiting for me but that was not to be.
The first thing I had noticed on arriving in Jammu was that my phone just displayed the location and wasn’t giving me signal strength details. So we headed to a PCO and a phone call to ITC office finally had us walking out of the airport to find the vehicle sent for us.
The driver a most interesting Sardarji was an ex-army guy, having served in the Indo-Pak wars, IPKF, etc etc. We then headed to the office since our training sched required us to start on the same day. First day was quite cool, with us being introduced to our BM Mr. Satish Kumar and Anandya who heads GFP and Sandilya who heads CFP. Well blogging about office people can lead to only to trouble so I’ll just say that they were quite cool. The BM’s 5 min session had us totally convinced about our security. Andy (Anandya) and Sandy (Sandilya) helped clear any doubts we had about life in Jammu. This was also when we were informed that our zone consists of HP, Punjab, J&K, which in one line is the abode of the most beautiful women in India.
The first nite at Jammu involved a dinner at RC international a – hold your breath – revolving restaurant at Jammu courtesy Andy and Sandy. We were also joined by Shagun, who was visiting from District office. The journey towards RC was the first experience we had of the suspensionless rickshaws in Jammu. We were also stopped at one point by machine gun wielding policemen who demanded an i-card but seemed satisfied with our visiting cards and innocent faces.
If it wasn’t cool enough to see the everchanging view, we even had waiters using handhelds to take down our orders. The nite journey helped clear all our doubts once and for all. We then proceeded to office to begin for our Tour de Jammu.
I really don’t know whether I can reveal ITC’s training programme. Lets just say that the days of simulation cycling at Sonar Bangla’s gym helped. Our first day was equinox, i.e. the longest (and hottest day). The cycling was quite fun, but not the waiting. I was accompanied by Rajesh Katoch, a gentleman who began by mumbling incoherent sentences under his breath on day 1 and ended with being good friends on the last day. I not only managed not to lose any stuff, but actually sold a little above the route average, which was pretty cool.
What followed was days of working at different levels, most of it in the training sched and some Sandy’s initiative to ensure we learn more. We also made loads of friends and received loads of gyaan. We interacted a lot with our trainer during this stint, Mr. J.K. Choudhary, who really is a warehouse of information on marketing in general and marketing in Jammu.
We also made time on Sundays to travel around. Our first port of call was Baag-e-Bahu a most impressive garden built on a hill. The view from the hill was most magical. Unfortunately the both of us had forgotten to get our digi cams, though I did get a few pics on my phone cam. Also we realized that mumbling is just the way people here speak. I’ve not only been subjected to people mumbling entire conversations but also speaking to me in Dongri, which is a language with many words similar to hindi and sounds a lot like Punjabi. I also had the honour of an elderly gentleman having an entire conversation in Dongri with me. I smiled with him, laffed with him and on the whole followed each and every cue with very little understanding. The day before I left, I even had a few people ask me for directions which was quite cool.
The short period in Jammu has seen me lose a few kilos, gain a lot of friends and some insight into what marketing is all about. A most beautiful place with very nice people and yes the ladies are nice looking. What strikes you most about them is their amazing peaches and cream complexion. ‘Patta nahi kis chakki ka atta khaati hai’. I guess it must be Ashirwaad from ITC ;).
Well we now move into phase two of our training, the AE stint. Prasanna’s been sent to Jullundher and I go to Shimla.
-P.R.
Tuesday morning. My life began in Mumbai, quite the centre of my universe till my higher education took me down south to K. The induction was at Cal in the east and now I was heading north. Quite the ‘char dhaam yatra’. My itinerary was flying to Delhi and then taking another flight to Jammu. I now know Cal airport quite well and its quite nice. We were a large group of people. Some heading to Saharanpur in UP and we to Jammu.
Delhi airport was really quite unimpressive and we spent some time waiting for the Jammu flight and getting to know each other. Prasanna hails from Chennai and has done his MBA at L. He had just been to Jammu some time back. Which is nice to hear. The flight to Jammu has extra security, which involved identifying our baggage before the flight and loads of security checks.
The flight took off an hour late, thanks to lack of a runway. We (Prasanna and me) then headed out to Jammu. I slept on both flights because we had woken up so early. There was loads of turbulence before we made a smooth landing at Jammu.
Jammu, the land of temples (says the tourism site), has an airport which looks like a temple itself. We land to find the place quite warm and not the cold place I had pictured.
Coming out of the airport we found ourselves facing machine gun carrying soldiers standing and a UN vehicle parked right in front. It looks like one of those scenes from a CNN Kosovo broadcast. I so wanted to finally find someone waiting placard in hand waiting for me but that was not to be.
The first thing I had noticed on arriving in Jammu was that my phone just displayed the location and wasn’t giving me signal strength details. So we headed to a PCO and a phone call to ITC office finally had us walking out of the airport to find the vehicle sent for us.
The driver a most interesting Sardarji was an ex-army guy, having served in the Indo-Pak wars, IPKF, etc etc. We then headed to the office since our training sched required us to start on the same day. First day was quite cool, with us being introduced to our BM Mr. Satish Kumar and Anandya who heads GFP and Sandilya who heads CFP. Well blogging about office people can lead to only to trouble so I’ll just say that they were quite cool. The BM’s 5 min session had us totally convinced about our security. Andy (Anandya) and Sandy (Sandilya) helped clear any doubts we had about life in Jammu. This was also when we were informed that our zone consists of HP, Punjab, J&K, which in one line is the abode of the most beautiful women in India.
The first nite at Jammu involved a dinner at RC international a – hold your breath – revolving restaurant at Jammu courtesy Andy and Sandy. We were also joined by Shagun, who was visiting from District office. The journey towards RC was the first experience we had of the suspensionless rickshaws in Jammu. We were also stopped at one point by machine gun wielding policemen who demanded an i-card but seemed satisfied with our visiting cards and innocent faces.
If it wasn’t cool enough to see the everchanging view, we even had waiters using handhelds to take down our orders. The nite journey helped clear all our doubts once and for all. We then proceeded to office to begin for our Tour de Jammu.
I really don’t know whether I can reveal ITC’s training programme. Lets just say that the days of simulation cycling at Sonar Bangla’s gym helped. Our first day was equinox, i.e. the longest (and hottest day). The cycling was quite fun, but not the waiting. I was accompanied by Rajesh Katoch, a gentleman who began by mumbling incoherent sentences under his breath on day 1 and ended with being good friends on the last day. I not only managed not to lose any stuff, but actually sold a little above the route average, which was pretty cool.
What followed was days of working at different levels, most of it in the training sched and some Sandy’s initiative to ensure we learn more. We also made loads of friends and received loads of gyaan. We interacted a lot with our trainer during this stint, Mr. J.K. Choudhary, who really is a warehouse of information on marketing in general and marketing in Jammu.
We also made time on Sundays to travel around. Our first port of call was Baag-e-Bahu a most impressive garden built on a hill. The view from the hill was most magical. Unfortunately the both of us had forgotten to get our digi cams, though I did get a few pics on my phone cam. Also we realized that mumbling is just the way people here speak. I’ve not only been subjected to people mumbling entire conversations but also speaking to me in Dongri, which is a language with many words similar to hindi and sounds a lot like Punjabi. I also had the honour of an elderly gentleman having an entire conversation in Dongri with me. I smiled with him, laffed with him and on the whole followed each and every cue with very little understanding. The day before I left, I even had a few people ask me for directions which was quite cool.
The short period in Jammu has seen me lose a few kilos, gain a lot of friends and some insight into what marketing is all about. A most beautiful place with very nice people and yes the ladies are nice looking. What strikes you most about them is their amazing peaches and cream complexion. ‘Patta nahi kis chakki ka atta khaati hai’. I guess it must be Ashirwaad from ITC ;).
Well we now move into phase two of our training, the AE stint. Prasanna’s been sent to Jullundher and I go to Shimla.
-P.R.
Aamar Shonar Bongla
We came back to Sonar Bangla and were assigned new rooms, with the same room mates. This time however Sauhard n I had facing rooms so it was like hostel.
First day of classroom sessions was cool since me n Sauhard were on the last bench in Pala1 (the hall), we were quite happy except that the faculty Dr.Ramchander from IIMB walked about quite a bit, so we had to pay attention.
The next day the seats were rotated and we were brought to the first bench. Then began days of presentations on all the ITC businesses which seems to cover most things on earth. The presentations were interesting, sitting on the first bench was not. Apparently rotation stopped on day 2, so we were stuck on bench 1.
We rarely made any contribution to the sessions except one session by the finance head. Answering an open question on greenmail (an example about a foreign company in the history of India) by him caused him to call me the most brilliant guy there. Another answer had me being called ‘Bright Rao’. Me, fin expert, hee hee. I could almost picture my pals at K rollin on the floor laffin. Anyway that done, I held my silence through the sessions. I really admire the engg guys for asking questions bout each n everything. Though I warned my neighbour off askin too many questions.
We also visited Victoria memorial. Unlike last time when Chetts, Mayank and me just saw the gardens and could not enter the buiding, this time we entered the building and gained some insight into the history of Kolkata and the advent of British rule in India.
We also spent time at the Jacuzzi, sauna, steam bath and the pool. Dheeraj and I were regular visitors to the gym. We would have been more regular gymmers if not for the laundry charges which were most prohibitive.
Food was quite nice and the sessions were most fun. The only problem was not knowing where we were to be posted. This was saved for the ITD sessions. The suspense was maintained on Saturday. We were given Sunday to enjoy ourselves. Karan tried teaching us (Dheeraj and me) swimming. JC of course had left by then to gurgaon for the LRPD stint.
On Monday morning we awaited our locns. We already knew from Rupa that one set of 2 marketing guys would head to Patna which we were all dreading. Afternoon session was by Mr.Sule. he told us all about our session and then began the process. The fist 2 tabs of the excel sheet were west and south, both places where I’d have relatives. Next to me was KK from C. We’d met earlier at Intaglio, where he had coordinated our event. He and I were equally anxious when the north tab came. There it was Pranay Harish Rao and on the right Jammu. For a moment I was just relieved that it wasn’t Patna. I in all my ignorance had no idea about a branch in Jammu. I quite happily pictured myself in scenic surroundings, camera in hand when Dheeraj reminded me about the militancy problem and still I was happy. After the session I headed out and informed dad and he was quite surprised but still fine with it. My mother sounded much more taken aback.
Dheeraj was back to Guwahati (bein from IITG), one of the tuffest locations, Karan Jaipur and he was happy cos it is close to Delhi. Sauhard Hyderabad, which was one of the best locations (in terms of city comforts). We went out to see Cal for the last time, then headed back, mainly because of my early morning flight.
Over the days of induction, I interacted with Dheeraj and Karan more than I ever had at college (being in separate sections) and I really enjoyed it. Sauhard of course was always a pal at K. I bid farewell to all of them, a moment I will remember for life.
First day of classroom sessions was cool since me n Sauhard were on the last bench in Pala1 (the hall), we were quite happy except that the faculty Dr.Ramchander from IIMB walked about quite a bit, so we had to pay attention.
The next day the seats were rotated and we were brought to the first bench. Then began days of presentations on all the ITC businesses which seems to cover most things on earth. The presentations were interesting, sitting on the first bench was not. Apparently rotation stopped on day 2, so we were stuck on bench 1.
We rarely made any contribution to the sessions except one session by the finance head. Answering an open question on greenmail (an example about a foreign company in the history of India) by him caused him to call me the most brilliant guy there. Another answer had me being called ‘Bright Rao’. Me, fin expert, hee hee. I could almost picture my pals at K rollin on the floor laffin. Anyway that done, I held my silence through the sessions. I really admire the engg guys for asking questions bout each n everything. Though I warned my neighbour off askin too many questions.
We also visited Victoria memorial. Unlike last time when Chetts, Mayank and me just saw the gardens and could not enter the buiding, this time we entered the building and gained some insight into the history of Kolkata and the advent of British rule in India.
We also spent time at the Jacuzzi, sauna, steam bath and the pool. Dheeraj and I were regular visitors to the gym. We would have been more regular gymmers if not for the laundry charges which were most prohibitive.
Food was quite nice and the sessions were most fun. The only problem was not knowing where we were to be posted. This was saved for the ITD sessions. The suspense was maintained on Saturday. We were given Sunday to enjoy ourselves. Karan tried teaching us (Dheeraj and me) swimming. JC of course had left by then to gurgaon for the LRPD stint.
On Monday morning we awaited our locns. We already knew from Rupa that one set of 2 marketing guys would head to Patna which we were all dreading. Afternoon session was by Mr.Sule. he told us all about our session and then began the process. The fist 2 tabs of the excel sheet were west and south, both places where I’d have relatives. Next to me was KK from C. We’d met earlier at Intaglio, where he had coordinated our event. He and I were equally anxious when the north tab came. There it was Pranay Harish Rao and on the right Jammu. For a moment I was just relieved that it wasn’t Patna. I in all my ignorance had no idea about a branch in Jammu. I quite happily pictured myself in scenic surroundings, camera in hand when Dheeraj reminded me about the militancy problem and still I was happy. After the session I headed out and informed dad and he was quite surprised but still fine with it. My mother sounded much more taken aback.
Dheeraj was back to Guwahati (bein from IITG), one of the tuffest locations, Karan Jaipur and he was happy cos it is close to Delhi. Sauhard Hyderabad, which was one of the best locations (in terms of city comforts). We went out to see Cal for the last time, then headed back, mainly because of my early morning flight.
Over the days of induction, I interacted with Dheeraj and Karan more than I ever had at college (being in separate sections) and I really enjoyed it. Sauhard of course was always a pal at K. I bid farewell to all of them, a moment I will remember for life.
The beginning
‘ITC, Citifin, CTS, Britannia, Titan and..’
‘GE Money and TOI’
‘all these offers and you want to join ITC’
‘yes’
‘Why?’
I felt someone nudge me and realized it was the airhostess asking whether I wanted breakfast. Of course I did. The conversation had ended with me telling my friend about ITC being a major FMCG marketing company and my interest in marketing. The conversation went on to the fact that how could I not smoke cigarettes and still sell them. My answer was well I could’ve joined P&G and been told to sell Sanitary Napkins.
The reason I remembered the conversation was because I was on the flight to Cal, bag and baggage with me ready to embark on my life in marketing. The last few days were about meeting friends and relatives, about preparing for the trip and of course having fun. The captain announced the landing when I realized that within an hour or so I would have my first taste of ITC. All the gyaan from Baid, the stuff ITC sent home was just theoretical, the real experience starts now.
I alighted from the aircraft, got myself a prepaid taxi as per Sumana Maam’s instructions. About 35 mins from the airport we reach my first destination, Sonar Bangla Sheraton. My first impression of Sonar Bangla is nice. It really has an impersonal exterior but a very impressive foyer. We are supposed to deposit our luggage here and carry on to Ffort Radisson, Raichuk
The transit rooms are one major mess, with luggage strewn all over. I find a few guys ( who turn out to be IIM waale) talking about campuses as I am trying to get my Raichuk stuff into a separate bag. They talk about how IIMK is the most beautiful of all the IIMs and suddenly I am all ears. I soon join them in the conversation with a sense of pride as if I myself had a hand in building K :). Must say the talk made me feel the wee bit nostalgic.
After meetin Bhatia in the reception, I find Sauhard and we head out to the lunch room and our first taste of ITC hospitality which is quite nice.
Soon all of us K guys (JC, Dheeraj, Karan, Sauhard and I) are united and we proceed to enjoy ourselves, clapping each time one of us is given a case book. Stuff we have to read at Raichuk, so that we are ready for the classroom sessions. grrrrrr
We finally head out to Radisson which seems like an eternity away from Cal. At first sight it is most beautiful. It is actually a British fort which has no been made into what could be described as a semi heritage hotel.
We reach there to realize that 2 people have to share rooms and the sharing is decided by ITC. I soon find that I am sharing my room with Sarwagya Sharma, some IIT guy. Radisson has single access cards, which means I have to wait a while till I get a room service guy to get the door open. I’m dreading some greasy haired kid as a roommate. The doorbell rings and I find that my roomie seems decent. He apparently was looking out for a south Indian looking guy and therefore missed me.
The room is quite good and I really like the ambience with tasteful furniture and a nice bathroom with a decent sized bathtub, which looks long enough to hold me. We have a late evening bonding session. We are asked questions and have to form groups based on our answers. Most people bond based on their place of birth. I turns out only me and Prasanna, a guy from L have been born in Mumbai. We are then divided into groups with care taken that no two people from the same college are together. There are seventeen of us in the same group. Inspite of all the prior introductions at Sonar Bangla, it seems I know only 1 or 2 of the group and really can’t remember their names.
Next morning starts early (for me at least). We have all these team building games to play, which really seem quite painful. We have all these awesome facilities to enjoy and no time to do it :(.
The first day is lot of gas with us making companies and orgn structures n all. Our team is quite creative. My intention of stayin away is affected when I see the confusion. I then proceed to divide the team into two, with me being in the team doing the organisation structure which really turns out quite cool. In the form of an atom. Our team name is NuKleus and I swear I had no hand in getting the K in the middle :). K is for knowledge our core. This is global gyaan to the max.
The second day of team games goes well. The enthusiasm of the IITians actually gets to me and I too try hard to win some games. We combine well as a team, and do well. The third day involves a flag game, etc. etc.
The days at Radisson were good in terms of meeting new people and having fun.It helped break the ice, though the sessions after the game were really quite boring. The place was most beautiful though and quite warm.
Bonding over.
Next step Sonar Bangla.
Luv,
PR
‘GE Money and TOI’
‘all these offers and you want to join ITC’
‘yes’
‘Why?’
I felt someone nudge me and realized it was the airhostess asking whether I wanted breakfast. Of course I did. The conversation had ended with me telling my friend about ITC being a major FMCG marketing company and my interest in marketing. The conversation went on to the fact that how could I not smoke cigarettes and still sell them. My answer was well I could’ve joined P&G and been told to sell Sanitary Napkins.
The reason I remembered the conversation was because I was on the flight to Cal, bag and baggage with me ready to embark on my life in marketing. The last few days were about meeting friends and relatives, about preparing for the trip and of course having fun. The captain announced the landing when I realized that within an hour or so I would have my first taste of ITC. All the gyaan from Baid, the stuff ITC sent home was just theoretical, the real experience starts now.
I alighted from the aircraft, got myself a prepaid taxi as per Sumana Maam’s instructions. About 35 mins from the airport we reach my first destination, Sonar Bangla Sheraton. My first impression of Sonar Bangla is nice. It really has an impersonal exterior but a very impressive foyer. We are supposed to deposit our luggage here and carry on to Ffort Radisson, Raichuk
The transit rooms are one major mess, with luggage strewn all over. I find a few guys ( who turn out to be IIM waale) talking about campuses as I am trying to get my Raichuk stuff into a separate bag. They talk about how IIMK is the most beautiful of all the IIMs and suddenly I am all ears. I soon join them in the conversation with a sense of pride as if I myself had a hand in building K :). Must say the talk made me feel the wee bit nostalgic.
After meetin Bhatia in the reception, I find Sauhard and we head out to the lunch room and our first taste of ITC hospitality which is quite nice.
Soon all of us K guys (JC, Dheeraj, Karan, Sauhard and I) are united and we proceed to enjoy ourselves, clapping each time one of us is given a case book. Stuff we have to read at Raichuk, so that we are ready for the classroom sessions. grrrrrr
We finally head out to Radisson which seems like an eternity away from Cal. At first sight it is most beautiful. It is actually a British fort which has no been made into what could be described as a semi heritage hotel.
We reach there to realize that 2 people have to share rooms and the sharing is decided by ITC. I soon find that I am sharing my room with Sarwagya Sharma, some IIT guy. Radisson has single access cards, which means I have to wait a while till I get a room service guy to get the door open. I’m dreading some greasy haired kid as a roommate. The doorbell rings and I find that my roomie seems decent. He apparently was looking out for a south Indian looking guy and therefore missed me.
The room is quite good and I really like the ambience with tasteful furniture and a nice bathroom with a decent sized bathtub, which looks long enough to hold me. We have a late evening bonding session. We are asked questions and have to form groups based on our answers. Most people bond based on their place of birth. I turns out only me and Prasanna, a guy from L have been born in Mumbai. We are then divided into groups with care taken that no two people from the same college are together. There are seventeen of us in the same group. Inspite of all the prior introductions at Sonar Bangla, it seems I know only 1 or 2 of the group and really can’t remember their names.
Next morning starts early (for me at least). We have all these team building games to play, which really seem quite painful. We have all these awesome facilities to enjoy and no time to do it :(.
The first day is lot of gas with us making companies and orgn structures n all. Our team is quite creative. My intention of stayin away is affected when I see the confusion. I then proceed to divide the team into two, with me being in the team doing the organisation structure which really turns out quite cool. In the form of an atom. Our team name is NuKleus and I swear I had no hand in getting the K in the middle :). K is for knowledge our core. This is global gyaan to the max.
The second day of team games goes well. The enthusiasm of the IITians actually gets to me and I too try hard to win some games. We combine well as a team, and do well. The third day involves a flag game, etc. etc.
The days at Radisson were good in terms of meeting new people and having fun.It helped break the ice, though the sessions after the game were really quite boring. The place was most beautiful though and quite warm.
Bonding over.
Next step Sonar Bangla.
Luv,
PR
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