tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54508185541136900722024-03-06T06:18:45.039+08:00Travel log of ravi311All about my travel experiences, the excitement, challenge, experiments and the sweet memories!ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-77406448119718794072022-11-07T01:45:00.007+08:002022-11-07T15:04:24.258+08:00Emotional connections of Gomi<p>Let's set the scene correctly, Gomi is a cow. Sacred, respected, and almost like a family member to its owner, Uncle Hariyani. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5WK3eUmfmNR9UGL3RUcjSypreZ3o4qyk5-6Y-4AM0c1DwHc72GL3va920HvXMXXVOSFvWduz8hyISh63kbC4JqCWk3EZmkjXJx8raqNV6LVOn2RdCYHZlvvEaDrafRUcQg3M437ETa-1ko8b8vvnKHg0AwmJ1D_bpvSsl8jqmCpGGVX4Y5Kz5Tux1/s1363/Rahul%20Hariyani%20and%20Ravi%20at%20Paul%20DCC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1363" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5WK3eUmfmNR9UGL3RUcjSypreZ3o4qyk5-6Y-4AM0c1DwHc72GL3va920HvXMXXVOSFvWduz8hyISh63kbC4JqCWk3EZmkjXJx8raqNV6LVOn2RdCYHZlvvEaDrafRUcQg3M437ETa-1ko8b8vvnKHg0AwmJ1D_bpvSsl8jqmCpGGVX4Y5Kz5Tux1/w400-h263/Rahul%20Hariyani%20and%20Ravi%20at%20Paul%20DCC.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">Rahul - Uncle Hariyani - and me, at Paul Cafe, Deira City Centre (Dubai)</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our coffee conversation today [6 Nov 2022] went from Uttar Pradesh to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nainital" target="_blank">Nainital</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chopta" target="_blank">Chopta</a>, Dugalbitta, and the awesome views from the hilltop <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surkanda_Devi" target="_blank">Surkhanda Devi temple</a>. The narrations by Uncle Hariyani were like a National Geographic crew showcasing the region ... I felt as if I was walking with him while appreciating the views.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let me trek back to the Himalayas after a short detour into the emotional connections of Gomi, a cow that became Hariyani's "asset" when he acquired a small piece of land in Uttar Pradesh near his home. Gomi was housed on the land and a caretaker, Raghunath, was appointed to look after her on the land, some 200m from home. Why was she named Gomi? There was a cow named Gomi during Uncle Hariyani's childhood days and the sentiments of the name continued its legacy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With the induction of Gomi into the household equation, it became imperative that Rahul walk to the land every morning to get his mandatory "dose of calcium and minerals." Raghunath would milk the cow, squeezing it directly into a mug lined with a cloth to filter any dirt or debris; with a small chunk of sugar on the cloth thus giving the warm fresh milk a mild sweet taste. The daily ritual continues as long as Gomi is lactating. If you hear Rahul explain the morning walk, clad in a blanket in the cold mornings, squatting near the cow shed and drinking the warm milk ... you know that he remembers those moments as clearly as if it was just yesterday. That was the freshest of the fresh milk, from cow to cup every morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As the family shifted to Kutch, among the paraphernalia of the household, Gomi was also transported to the new home adjacent to the salt fields where Uncle Hariyani was a high-ranking officer, and the house had a large compound. Gomi must have missed the open land and freedom in Uttar Pradesh, but now this home near the salt fields of Kutch is to be her new abode. She might be missing her old home, which added to the fatigue from the long drive, but she was calm as Raghunath accompanied her to the new territory. But her brain re-wired the emotions when Raghunath, a sincere employee and a loyal caretaker, was returning to Uttar Pradesh. Gomi ran to him as if she knew he was going away for good. If she could speak, she would have wept. Rahul says "Although Gomi does not react actively like a puppy, her emotions are clearly visible." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now Gomi is a resident of a new shed, and her life went on with the organized cycle of being pregnant, giving birth, and ensuring the supply of milk to the household for several years to come. With Rahul in charge of the feeding, his mom deals with the daily milking, making yogurt, and churning ghee from the milk. Apparently, his mom talks to Gomi giving instructions to move, turn around or back off, with Gomi responding by her hissing and obeying the instructions. Hearing the story, I can visualize the emotional connection that Gomi had with the family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Interestingly, in those days the studs (selected bull meant for breeding) were premium assets. The owners would have a forward reservation for mating and cow owners would make bookings for the service, with a fee. We do not see such bulls walking around showing their arsenal, instead it would be guarded carefully with a regimented feeding of the right nutrients and minerals. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over time, the "mating technology" changed and controlled insemination of dairy cows became prevalent. Now, literally speaking, the job of the studs has been taken over by veterinary field staff armed with a catheter. That made a host of show-off studs redundant! The unemployment became so bad that now we see them roaming on the streets doing nothing and just munching on whatever they find. With this twist of the times, people began protecting the dairy cows from the studs to avoid involuntary insemination. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Rewinding back to B.G. [Before Gomi!] when Rahul was 10 months old he had his episode of grabbing red hot amber scalding his palms, and thereafter at an older age a further episode of holding on to the edge of the culvert while riding in it and crushing his fingers ... and at around 4 years old he wandered off from home, crossing 2 railway crossings to reach town!! The tea stall owner held him at the shop and called his mom to "rescue" her wandering son. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today Rahul is a top gun of a large audit firm based in Business Bay, Dubai ... you would least expect to hear this part of him being a "curious puppy" who roamed off to town at 4 years old, and having experimented with fire leaving permanent scars on his hands to tell the story :-)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's time we fast-forward to the Himalayas ... the "walk with Hariyani" today revealed places like Nainital with 3 mountains surrounding a lake, a narrow road winding by the edge of the water, and old rustic hotels lining the trail. Rahul's school was atop one of the hills in a cool climate and awesome views like in Lauterbrunnen. I can picture the ambiance and the exhilarating school atmosphere up there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Uncle Hariyani walked me through <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haridwar" target="_blank">Haridwar</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Badrinath" target="_blank">Badrinath</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kedarnath_Temple" target="_blank">Kedarnath</a>, and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gangotri" target="_blank">Gangotri</a>. His version was that these are like our 4 fingers ... "you cannot cross from one to the other from the top ... you need to ascend and descend to get to each one" ... and while those are the 4 popular destinations, the serenely tucked away places are Chopta, Dugalbitta, and the Surkhanda Devi temple at Kanatal. With his explanations, these small towns have immediately become my "top of the list must-see-places" ... and I can imagine the scene around the Surkhanda Devi temple which is perched on a hilltop with an end-to-end view of the Himalayas. I had a peek at the Himalayas when I visited <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darjeeling" target="_blank">Darjeeling </a>and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sikkim" target="_blank">Sikkim </a>... I can visualize the beauty and the golden sunrise views here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Uncle Hariyani has stayed at the PWD Guest House at Dugalbitta, constructed in 1925 by the British, which was used as an accommodation for Jawaharlal Nehru at one time. As he and Rahul reached the Guest House, at night, circa 2005 for their stay, the place was pitch dark as the caretaker did not get the message about their arrival. After showing the letter of reservation, the caretaker scrambled to find kerosene, start the generator and then run to a nearby dhaba (stall) to quickly get some food.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As the generator kicked off and lights came on; it was like "abracadabra" ... the place lit up to reveal its finesse. The hallway was laid with a smooth soft carpet that makes you feel like you are floating as you walk, and the top-class wooden furniture gave the place an aura like none other in its class. The food that came from a non-Michelin star-audited dhaba was absolutely flavourful and reflected every bit of taste notes of a home-cooked local cuisine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Rahul's description of the night was "you will discover the real meaning of silence when you stay there" and about the breaking of dawn "you will see the golden sunrise on the sprawling snow-capped mountains when you wake up in the morning." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With all these stories and descriptions, I can see why these places are synonyms for an adventure of a lifetime. Looking forward to my next "Switzerland experience" :-)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">----- ooOoo -----</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-4716580594139990792022-10-16T17:36:00.004+08:002022-10-16T21:42:22.888+08:00Your food can be my poison, separated by the two continents I was having my Smoked Golden Tinapa ... smoked milkfish, mango salad, garlic rice and a sunny side up fried egg at the Pancake House in Burjuman Mall (Dubai).<div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /><div><br /></div><div>A couple sat at the opposite table. The Pakistani guy had a look of ecstasy as if he just landed on the moon and Biden gave him a green card. His blonde-haired Filipino lady friend was cool, browsing the menu.</div><div><br /></div><div>In a few minutes, I heard him say "You choose what you like" ... and she rattled like a rusted machine gun, ordering a host of things to the waiter who was sounding like a thirsty frog on a cloudy day. In the end, I heard her say "Banana split, we share okay ..." and soon, after the waiter left, she started describing to him the dishes she ordered, and now the guy's face began to reflect the intensity of the mismatch between the food he was expecting versus the "egg, chicken liver, mashed beef in vinegar" that he is hearing.</div><div><br /></div><div>When he came in, he thought "How much can this go wrong? It's the Philippines with the same chicken and beef"... and now he realizes that chicken can be cooked in a hundred ways that do not fit his tastebuds.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now the man from the moon turned into someone who looked like a patient with an intestinal disorder and just out of the hospital with unsolved constipation. I think, he was reminiscing about the buffet at Al Ebrahimi running like a YouTube show, while accepting the fact that last night's emotional decision has brought him to today's financial obligation with an indigestible lunch.</div><div><br /></div><div>He will never say "You choose what you like" anymore unless he is in Al Ebrahimi. He would also have understood that chicken can be turned into poison in some places outside his home country!<br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div>I finished my lunch, enjoyed every bit of the de-boned fish and went to my coffee adventure upstairs.</div><div><br /></div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-48107847991854737702022-03-06T23:50:00.006+08:002022-11-08T00:24:33.688+08:00Kutty, which means "kid" in Malayalam, but here it means "eminent"<h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia;">Kick-off</span></h2><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">By a few twists of my career path and through a friend in Chennai, I became appointed as the Director of the Malaysian subsidiary of a UK shipping company headquartered in Dubai. I have heard of the name "Kutty" in several conversations with my friends in Chennai and Bangalore; all of whom have once worked with Mr Kutty, the owner of the shipping company.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The galore of praise for this Mr Kutty accompanies most of our conversations and I had always wondered why most of them left the company despite the praises.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span>I learned later about the underlying story of one such "patriot" who used money from the company to pay someone else's debt and was shown the door out "gracefully." The others must have left for various other reasons. In any case, i</span><span>t was quite evident from the beginning that this "kutty" was not a "kid" and was nothing small.</span></span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">As the game unfolded</span></h2><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">My urge to meet Mr Kutty was enhanced as some "invisible" hands within the company keeps pushing that opportunity away. Probably, these were people who either did not like my appointment as Director or those who felt threatened by it. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Considering that I was being entrusted to be the front face of the company in Malaysia, it was absurd that I continue holding the seat without seeing the owner on whose behalf the responsibility was being held. There was an unusual term called "statutory Director" being used by the people who described me and I thought that meant "puppet acting as Director to fulfil the Registrar of Companies requirement."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As time went by, it was quite clear that the people within the local management merely wanted a signatory who would get the visa for them to work in Malaysia and who would take the "statutory blame" if something went wrong. That was all they wanted from this newly appointed "statutory Director". Now, that irked me. I was not looking for a full-time job, but was not ready for a part-time "acting" job either! </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">With the mindset of without further ado, I called upon my connection in the system and made it clear that I need to see the owner and get my "script" if I were to continue performing this "acting" job ... and the meeting was hesitantly arranged. We met in Singapore. Lo and behold, this "kutty" was a 6-feet tall eminent personality with a distinguished character. There were no further decorative words required for me to understand that he is a brand by himself.</span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The meeting</span></h2><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">For the meeting, I had 2 outcomes in mind. One, if the chemistry was right, I wanted to go deeper into the game; or two, if the tone felt "grey" I should be out of the game. There was no in-between-the-lines game plan.</span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnyp63PILO6K5PFUV4n6wzXC03FqMWIeUF9KYB5IYmgV7uQj6kBdXj2LlPXB9VoKa06B5H9os5fQ-QKKO4y6XnWGkUAFA8W9J03mGscHY66geTDDIRmqnuduisfPPXnTfsqGACKJ1A8sWLLeDnRW0n46kQHfw5eiilvrfvFDWsfZlPKZ1J70Qx7NmX=s831" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: 18.6667px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="TVN Kutty with Ravindran Raghavan" border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="709" height="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnyp63PILO6K5PFUV4n6wzXC03FqMWIeUF9KYB5IYmgV7uQj6kBdXj2LlPXB9VoKa06B5H9os5fQ-QKKO4y6XnWGkUAFA8W9J03mGscHY66geTDDIRmqnuduisfPPXnTfsqGACKJ1A8sWLLeDnRW0n46kQHfw5eiilvrfvFDWsfZlPKZ1J70Qx7NmX=w341-h405" title="Meeting with TVN Kutty in Singapore" width="341" /></span></a><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The introducers planted many pearls of fear in describing this person as one who "would look for your weakness and ask questions that you cannot answer ... and that would make you feel small (and useless?)" Given that backdrop to the stage, my "protective shields" were engaged while I decided to take it with a "cross the bridge when you get there" attitude since I have never met him before. It was difficult to pre-judge and create an impression.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">By the first 15 minutes into the conversation, I could make out that my grasp of the universe is like scratching the surface when compared to his depth of view. So, there was no need for him to ask a question and make me feel small, I already felt small without that effort!! I knew Malaysia well enough to pitch at the same level, but he had the competency for the whole globe. I enjoyed the chat very much as it took a smooth journey through what I knew and what he wanted to know.</span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Where do we go next?</span></h2><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Ironically, despite knowing that my "business competencies" were far behind his, I felt at home talking to him. It was as if I have known him earlier and there was a feeling of trust that I cannot define. I am a person who starts with "distrust" and works my way into the trust space as the relationship develops. I do not trust someone in the first meeting. But in this instance there was an element of trust that developed right away, we went into talking about the potential to form a joint-shareholding company in Malaysia.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The meeting ended with a tentative schedule to meet him in Chennai with an action plan about the new company.</span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">A small storm</span></h2><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The day before my flight to Chennai, I received a call from my friend saying that he has just tendered his resignation from the company. This is the friend who initiated my entry into the company as "statutory Director." He was also one of the first employees of the company and the right-hand man of Mr Kutty when the company first started in Dubai. Wow, that was patriotic history and his sudden exit was a storm I did not anticipate.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">His advice to me was to decline the joint-company formation and leave the company. That felt more like a knee-jerk response to me and did not feel right at that time. With some unanswered questions playing in my mind, I continued with my travel, landed in Chennai around midnight, checked in to Harrison Hotel at Nungambakkam and had my breakfast the next morning with mixed feelings about the adventure that was unfolding. Nevertheless, my auto-rickshaw ride took me to the apartment where I was meant to have the meeting. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This time the meeting was more casual though I had a colour document with a summary of my proposed action plan printed on high-grade off-white 100gsm glossy paper. He went through the narrations while clarifying a few points but his mannerism showed heavy inertia in taking that "controversial" step of forming a joint venture company. I could make out that he was no longer motivated to go ahead with the plan. It could be the cloud formed by my friend's sudden resignation or some other events that changed his perspective of the plan.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I continued with the company and gradually my participation increased in the later years, I was an active Director participating in the day to day business, property purchases, and discussions on expansion plans. We had the US$85 million "Logistics Masterplan" blueprint that was created with the help of Frost & Sullivan, vetted by Price Waterhouse, and presented to the Economic Department of Singapore after I wrote an email to Mr Lee Kuan Yew. That "aircraft" remained on the runway without ever taking off as the financial crisis in the Middle East hampered free cash flow and the decision was to hold the horses.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">We came a long way since then, with many ups and downs along the way.</span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;">The stubborn streak</span></h2><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span>Remember I said earlier that "he </span></span><span style="text-align: left;">would look for your weakness and ask questions that you cannot answer ... and that would make you feel small"? <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span>This is not an overstatement, it was real.</span> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">He operates in the future. Each day, he anticipates the problem appearing on the horizon and sets a solution. So when the problem arrives at the doorstep, he would have already had a solution. When things are quiet his famous statement was "everything seems calm, something is wrong!". When the sea is calm he anticipates the storm that we cannot see. This was not an easy strategy for me to capture or copy. Being unable to copy that strategy could have been a blessing in disguise as otherwise, I would always be in a problem-solving mode instead of grasping the joy of the day.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The human brain is said to have 100 billion CPU cores with the capability of running at 1,000 GHz; while actually clocking an average of only 600 GHz on a normal day. His neural networks must have been running closer to 1,000 GHz most of the time. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In hindsight, due to his "living in the future" with a "high definition eye for detail" and "1,000 GHz CPU," he notices gaps in proposals, calculations and analysis very quickly. It is a very common outcome where a Commercial Manager prepares a detailed analysis and summarises the proposed action plan, just to be shot down by him in the first 90 seconds. The fatalistic part of this reaction is the Commercial Manager would become a Persian cat and starts to say "meow, meow, meow" without further counterargument.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">In my personal experience, around 2008, a request came from our HR Department in Dubai asking for a self-appraisal. The message said, "the company wants to hear your perspective". I spent a good deal of time writing my self-appraisal detailed into different parts of my job scope and in addition, wrote a voluntary appraisal about the company. I remember, my synonymous line "IAL's size is like a Nair Tea Corporation, but our processes are still at the Nair Tea Company level" because "Nair is the one who takes all decisions and initiates action with no self-propelling Managers". Nothing came out of it. I was told later that the paper was not read nor discussed. Maybe the analysis was not deep enough 😊 </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Commonly, he would stop absorbing once he finds the first gap in a presentation. In my perspective, if he had allowed a listening ear to the rest of the story while noting the gap to be resolved later, he may have been a more powerful mentor and there would have been fewer Persian cat moments among the key staff. Think about it - the cat has nothing to lose as it is paid a salary to purr, scratch and dream! </span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The eminence in the name</span></h2><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Considering the yin-and-yang of his character, he built a brand around him without too much propaganda on social media or news. His actions spoke for themselves when the company did well and his processes kept a tight lid on the visibility of numbers within the business. Back in 1996, being among the early company to adopt IBM Lotus Notes and coding 167 business applications, it must have been way ahead of the pack in the industry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span>As he approached "retirement" from business and kicked off the "launch" of his personal passions, I was fortunate to be part of the transition. He does not spend time socialising in the business circles or attending "committee meetings" on the political playing field, but it was a common sight to see people trying to see him and get a glimpse of the "eminent" man named "Kutty."</span><span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I still enjoy the rare occasions when I get to sit with him and have coffee under the mango tree in Tiruvairanikulam at his riverside mansion. The conversations still have the magical charm that is hard to explain unless you experience it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><h2><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Happy Birthday, 2020</span></h2><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: georgia;">This was a birthday wish that I sent him in 2020. I am keen to preserve it here as it summarises the journey in simple words ...</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Quote >>> </span>"It is about 15 years since our first meeting in Singapore. While sending you my birthday wishes, I wanted to take time to re-visit some of the memories from my journey(s) with you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #2e74b5; font-size: 14pt;">Memory recall #1 </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">- back in 2007, in Singapore, you said "the budget does not interest me unless you put one more zero in it". And I thought that was an over-expectation for a small location. Much later, in 2014, after spending some time with you in Dubai, I grasped the full extent of that statement and felt how ignorant I was back then! If I had the right depth of understanding at that time, I would have evaluated that statement from a vastly different perspective. In life, the right lessons make a big difference.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">During my latest leg of working with you, the days and months spent with you gave me the occasional "why am I so slow" moments. <span style="color: #2e74b5; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 191;">Memory recall #2 </span>- years ago, one of your observations while having dinner with Din and me at Marriott Hotel in KL was "I like your pace. Both of you are not in a rush and it is a nice slow pace. Not your fault, your environment is like that. I am just making an observation” As I experienced your pace in Dubai and India, I realised how slow our pace in Malaysia was. Truthfully, the slow pace and the comforts of the country has been a blessing. But it also made us contended, causing us to avoid competitive chase.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">Along the way, your phone call one afternoon nudged my career and I landed in Dubai. I used to wonder “what did I achieve by coming to Dubai and locating myself away from my comfort zone?” For one thing, at work, my speed increased noticeably and now I am finding Malaysia slow </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">😊</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">. But I will adapt. My ordinary fact-based approach to problem-solving has improved in clarity and my analysis is more organised. Your methods have sharpened me further. My Chinese friend in Malaysia says that now I have the skills to “slice a buffalo with a razor blade.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Beyond all the work-related learning, being away from family, friends and relatives while being absent from birthdays, weddings and funerals gave me an unexpected window to rediscover myself. I was beginning to live my days to my own standards and specifications. And I found the original “Ravi” that was lost in time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #2e74b5; font-size: 14pt;">Memory recall #3 </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">- one of the lessons that you imparted came to mind, “a man starts by thinking that he is a stallion, slowly and unknowingly becomes a donkey, and finally, without realising it, he becomes an old dog barking to itself at the veranda when no one at home neither the passers-by care!” I was a “donkey” when I came to Dubai and re-learnt to be a “stallion”. Now, I have to maintain my glory for some more time before turning into an “old barking dog.” </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;">😊</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Looking back, when you offered me the relocation to Dubai, you said “I envy those who get to work near their homes all their life.” But for me, the start of re-discovering the real me was initiated by this move away from home. I am incredibly grateful to you for providing me with that opportunity which caused a brilliant transformation in me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At present, I am mildly struggling to re-adjust to my original world where I must adjust to people’s expectations, definitions and constraints. But I am enjoying the back-to-home comforts and shared moments with family and friends. Occasionally, I yearn for privacy and the ability to be myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My journey(s) with you has left many useful footprints in my book of lessons in life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is to wish you a great birthday. While heavy rains are drenching the surroundings, I wish you a warm and wonderful day at home. When the world turns around (after Covid), I look forward to having coffee with you some time just to chat about fun facts of life." <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><<< </span></span></span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18.6667px;">Unquote</span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0Dubai - United Arab Emirates25.2048493 55.2707828-3.1053845361788461 20.1145328 53.515083136178845 90.4270328tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-34076995642505141012022-03-01T22:14:00.002+08:002022-10-16T21:38:14.033+08:00Further journeys through the salt fields of Kutch (Vijay Hariyani) 1985-2010<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>Kite Beach, Dubai</b> was filled with people enjoying the cool weather while cycling, running, swimming or otherwise, having breakfast while feeling the breeze on our hair. Rahul picked me up from Novotel WTC and we got to Laola which was rated as the "best each facing cafe" by him, but that day's "low-speed service with expensive coffee in cheap paper cups" did not go well with his (and my) reviews of the place! They can do better. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_-V3XDa4GpxCPsBpkZi1kndUmBrxo_EhdDXzcu4tfWoRtDh6avv1wCY-6LEpSyhEcN-4vuVDIEo4fF2ww7W4zi_7ODIGH70T4azElYJUQ0-6pux-2AfE2pg2ViaJYMKa1R5UdSfjdZxrtggn4fzfUfLEDzCrPuL21vDD7MRy4ljk2HRlVcNeklWyq=s3450" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Laola cafe at Kite Beach" border="0" data-original-height="3450" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_-V3XDa4GpxCPsBpkZi1kndUmBrxo_EhdDXzcu4tfWoRtDh6avv1wCY-6LEpSyhEcN-4vuVDIEo4fF2ww7W4zi_7ODIGH70T4azElYJUQ0-6pux-2AfE2pg2ViaJYMKa1R5UdSfjdZxrtggn4fzfUfLEDzCrPuL21vDD7MRy4ljk2HRlVcNeklWyq=w263-h400" title="Ravindran Raghavan with Vijay and Rahul at Kite Beach" width="263" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Vijay Hariyani was prudent. He said, "enjoy the scenery and good weather ... small glitch with the service is fine".</span> His engaging conversation of the day took me through a whirlwind of history and I "walked with him on the salt fiends and yesteryears" as I became absorbed in the way he narrated the little stories that connected to each other. It was like small dots that connect to make a big picture ... and I forgot about the annoyance I had when I got my coffee in the paper cups ... Rahul and I ordered another coffee 😊</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Vijay's walks on the salt fields from 1985 to 2010 have deep experience and excellent stories right from the point of action.</span> I did not get absorbed by chance, the depth of the story is like watching an Amitabh Bachchan movie with twists that make you want to know more ... though Rahul may have had a hard time hiding his yawns after having seen the "movie" several times 😉</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It turns out that the Maharaja of Kutch, in ancient times, had a close relationship with the palace of Yemen. His frequent trips to Aden and friendship with a businessman from Mumbai gave birth to the idea of setting up salt harvesting in Kutch. His Cowasji Dinshaw<span style="color: #ffa400;">*</span> (a Parisi businessman with vast business interests including a large salt field in Aden) encouraged and supported the Maharaja's efforts to set up the first salt field under the name "United Salt Works" in Kandla on the Maharaja's own plot of land. After the independence of India, this land was taken over by the government as part of the nationalisation policy where the royal house had to hand over its powers to the democratic government.</span></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>*Cowasji was so well connected in Aden that he was called Adenwala in Mumbai.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The salt fields were run as a business with a Parsi gentleman (let's call him Farzan for the sake of this story) from Bombay, assuming that royalty must have been paid to the Maharaja. The salt fields did well and flourished, but over time yield dwindled and it went into deep financial trouble. While the fields were in trouble waters, workers were unpaid, machinery was left idle and probably a host of vendors had unpaid dues too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Vijay's connection to this field came when he was invited by Farzan to assist in rescuing the situation by finding a way to generate cash and revamp the operations. Considering the depth of the problem, Vijay who was on his way to retirement, took this assignment as a problem-solving challenge rather than one where business can be restored. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">On the sidelines, as Vijay sat with Farzan to review the "action plan", one vendor appeared and was agitatedly asking for his dues ... "You have not paid me Rs34,000 the last 9 years!! I have gone to your office in Kandla and they keep pushing me around. Will you pay or not??" ... and Farzan was not new to this kind of aggression, so he kept his calm and ... "No problem Saab, sit down, don't get angry ... now you came to me let me check. I promise you I will check and confirm right now" ... followed by a shout to his accountant ... "Baiju, bring the ledger and check if we owe this gentleman his payment"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, Farzan continued his chat and ... "Saab, you came a long way, you want tea? Have some tea ... boy, order one chai for this gentleman"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Baiju went on his search for the "historical records in the Museum of Farzan" and came back with a crumpled, discoloured but legible, loosely bound thick ledger and pointed to the handwritten record with multiple corrections and said, "Yes sar, we owe him Rs34,000"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Farzan was a fair man, he immediately accepted that he owes the dues to the vendor and told him ... "Now, I know I actually owe you. So, don't worry, I will pay you" ... and the vendor being cool by now, but slightly annoyed ... "I need to know when you will pay me" ... and Farzan, "You see Saab, I have a long list to manage and I don't have any money now. I am arranging. And I will pay you, but I cannot commit a date to you now"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Saab hit the roof and started his retort ... "You have to tell me a date. If not I am going to take you to Court. I will make sure I sue you ... blah, blah, blah ... <span style="color: #999999;">(maybe) with intermittent use of the words that mean idiot, cheat, bluf, dishonest</span>"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Farzan's eyes broadened and focussed on Saab like inspecting a rough pearl from the ocean and he called out to his trusted accountant ... "Baijuuuu, cancel the tea! Write Saab's name in the list of legal suits. Bring me the list"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now he shows Saab the list of 48 names, and says "Tikey (means OK) Saab! I will write your name here. You are number 49 suing me in Court. Go to Court and take action. I will manage it. Thank you Saab, go ahead" ... and with a wry smile, he tells Vijay, "I like people going to Court. That way they don't disturb me anymore!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">With that Vijay embarked on a semi-retired mission of trying to find a solution for Salt Field No. 1 of the Maharaja of Kutch that was established in 1920 and has been dormant for the last 15 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As he met with the local community and spoke to the leader he realised that the "weight of the whey is much more than meets the eye". The people have been living in the company houses for the last many years while the unpaid wages were mounting. They are irked and exasperated with the situation that they were left with when the field stopped operations. As Vijay struck a conversation with the elders, he realised that the problem is more than just numbers. His demeanour must have been so charming (like Amitabh Bachchan!) that the people took him to their houses, showed him around and went at length to share their side of the story. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2beGTqvSU2GKjlF0aO7xUQQkrsRtx6VvLgMwfVC4S4jzYoVBKd7txDBwAMkMZOOFBdCqVOZ-Lt5Oqgc3XoPf_wpEB7SMzCOd34r-xlVNz28mzo0OLG1acQur65ZXH7m_AQ2lJNBsYngsoU4tYAv00eWWKezQlkXtkh53KLIag5YwbBF8kocW3BN-u=s3049" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3049" data-original-width="2004" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2beGTqvSU2GKjlF0aO7xUQQkrsRtx6VvLgMwfVC4S4jzYoVBKd7txDBwAMkMZOOFBdCqVOZ-Lt5Oqgc3XoPf_wpEB7SMzCOd34r-xlVNz28mzo0OLG1acQur65ZXH7m_AQ2lJNBsYngsoU4tYAv00eWWKezQlkXtkh53KLIag5YwbBF8kocW3BN-u=w263-h400" width="263" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Along the way, as he felt more connected to the crowd, he asked for water ... and they served him a good cup of tea (not the type that we got in paper cups that morning!). It became quite apparent that they are not going to allow any items to be moved out of that place unless they are paid. The company has junk machinery (old abandoned machines that have become junk by this time) and various scrap materials that can be cashed. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Several visits over the next 3 months, more tea and some talks with the elders yielded some results. The community agreed to allow the scrap to be removed and sold, provided they are settled with the revenue made from the sale. That seemed like a good deal to strike with the people to loosen the knot and move the company agenda. With that the elders helped fix the buyers, scrap was removed, sold and the community was paid some compensation. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In the historical timeline, Salt Field No.1 still remained undeveloped while the workers are staying in the same area doing other activities to sustain themselves. Salt Field No. 2 has become Friends Salt while Salt Field No. 3 has become Ahir Salts.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Interestingly ...</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">The Rann salt desert in Gujerat is approximately 400,000 acres in area. </span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">This is an area where saltwater comes in with the tide and recedes leaving behind the salt deposits</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">The government has allotted permits to harvest the Rann salt only for bromine production while allowing the local sale of salt only during the salt crisis.</span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">More interestingly ...</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Japan had been a big importer of salt from India for the purpose of making caustic soda and the downline materials from it</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">North Korea used to trade by selling pulses to India and buying salt ... Vijay has managed loadings to North Korean vessels while having coffee with the Captains and having cautious conversations (cautious because they do not talk about politics!)</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-size: medium;">On the sidelines ...</span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Land deposits of salt are very rare, however, there is the Sambhar reservoir in Rajasthan where land deposit of salt is harvested</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, rock salt is found in Himachal Pradesh</span></li></ul></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">And I never realised that ...</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Salt being a relatively cheap commodity is sold at approximately Rs1 per kg profit by the salt fields which generate 300,000 kg a day on average ... thus making a profit of Rs300,000 per day!!!</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Man, that is a handsome profit.</span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWAPEQ5Xm6K8fECvgQj4UHVUdonPK_NUv1q4CRVTCoZ2QwXdjhefY01oEMIr0rG_bbAsmT9wtRlfxqVY2z1IVI6iIIDP1WtTa9L_i8F1xmpt4M9OGkNP84KBrqS6ZOz8zHAj3AqnLf4coEUPUn8jFYLeE2w5gH6yXrSVreFynxMzeXbDRymrzv_aPJ=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWAPEQ5Xm6K8fECvgQj4UHVUdonPK_NUv1q4CRVTCoZ2QwXdjhefY01oEMIr0rG_bbAsmT9wtRlfxqVY2z1IVI6iIIDP1WtTa9L_i8F1xmpt4M9OGkNP84KBrqS6ZOz8zHAj3AqnLf4coEUPUn8jFYLeE2w5gH6yXrSVreFynxMzeXbDRymrzv_aPJ=w225-h400" width="225" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Now, going back to Jakko where Vijay hired the contractor the herd of donkeys to transport gypsum ... after the stint of recovering Gypsum, Vijay was engaged by another businessman and friend, Mr Naidu from Chennai to survey the land around Jakko. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">With the help of the local master Mr Hussensha, the area was surveyed on jeep and to the amazement of Naidu, there was a vast land that can be identified for salt harvesting. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In the later developments, Naidu managed to secure 4,000 acres on one side and another 6,000 acres on the other side of the Jakko salt field that was managed by Vijay previously.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In their expansion of the business, Anantham, the boss of Mr Naidu further expanded to another 60,000 acres that were leased based on the ancient British format salt field lease agreement!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">... I need to sit with Vijay again to untie some of the knots in this blog. More updates to come.</span></p><p><br /></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-13356120792361527032022-02-26T19:16:00.010+08:002022-03-08T01:07:56.929+08:00Perumal C Gounder, storyteller and father in law!<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Perumal Gounder from Namakkal, Tamilnadu ... he is my favourite father-in-law ... Ooops! ... the only father-in-law. He passed away on 20th Feb 2010 right at the end of the Chinese New Year holidays.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">His one step in the "right" direction in the underground pedestrian tunnel</span></b><span style="color: #050505;"> at the Kuala Lumpur Railway Station way back in 1991 made my day and was the start of my journey towards marriage. In the age of deep cultural reflections and him being from the hardcore land of India, it was amazing how practical his thinking was. </span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Perumal Gounder" border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgv_428uUXXThpPZxiusu-ecqBm975mP11f3Jy_lC5wrajwPWXLpE69NFf0TEm2AkzLe91YbyoIx5XXbqfg0GEDx5Fk14MgVdDAKU8UnKg8WD6fLsP67p8TiH4mthqLtlUG4Y7iKcfv7JGSF9h2_F-z5v1Ird86CjQ0XuGBTkpTVYbSYh4mh-WxW113=w273-h400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="My father in law (picture from 1960s)" width="273" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666;"><br />Wedding photo of Perumal Gounder (right) and Kaliammah<br /></span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">His daughter was walking up to Platform 2 at the station to meet and greet the family, holding hands with the boyfriend whom the family has not approved yet ... that is how he first met me! Both of us were holding hands, chatting and casually walking up the stairs as the trains never come on time and we were early by half an hour. But to our dismay (or blessing) the train was earlier than scheduled on that one day in the last 5 years and the whole family was right there as we emerged 😀</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He started talking right away as we met, without too much of a formal introduction, and he went on chatting about the train journey, their snack at Gemas station and the good sleep thereafter. The family has arrived to participate in the graduation ceremony of my wife (then girlfriend) at the University of Malaya. I had a car by then and drove to the railway station with the idea of fetching them to their relative's house, provided there are no smoke and thunder when they meet me for the first time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">For them, I was then a Malayalee who sidetracked their Tamil daughter into a relationship, and a Malayalee was not at all acceptable in the close-knit Gounder<span style="color: #ffa400;">*</span> circles.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">*Gounders are a clan from Tamilnadu who are very close to their culture and select their sons-in-law from within the clan in arranged marriages. Here I was from outside the clan, and like adding salt to the wound, I was not even of the same state in India. That was a mighty gap that does not fit their checklist.</span></i></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: inherit;">So what happened at the pedestrian tunnel?</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></h2><div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As he continued talking while we descended the steps, my future mother-in-law was fuming mad and that was visible in her gestures. She had told my wife that they will all take a bus to the relative's house and "we do not need to get into the Malayalee's car now ... and why the hell did you bring him to receive us at the station??"</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At the base where the tunnel starts there was a left turn (to my car) and a right turn (to the bus station). While the whole family turned right based on the "approved protocol of the day" to take a bus and dump the Malayalee at the tunnel, he continued chatting and followed me to the left. I stopped to tell him, </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">"They are all going to the bus" ... </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">and my mother-in-law gestured to him to say "we need to go this way" ... </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">while he turned to me and asked, "so where are you going this opposite way?" ... </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">... and my response "my car is on this side, if you are OK, I can drop all of you, otherwise, the bus station is on the other side"</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To my surprise, he turned to his wife (the fuming mother in law) and said "the car is here, we go this way" and continued walking with me with "ah, so where did I leave the story, yes, that time when I came to KL in 1943, I was in Chembong ...." I am sure my mother in law would have had the moment of what-the-xxxx is he doing, we clearly agreed that we are not going to allow this Malayalee guy into our genetic pool, and you are so cool after meeting him for 3 minutes.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That turning point got me talking to him all the way to Klang, lost the way a few times under the pylons and finally found their relative Bengali Karuppiah's house. With his </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">talkative nature, I had half of his biography written on my mind in the first few days itself. For me it was an exciting encounter as ... firstly, I had not had any close encounter with someone who was born and brought up in India, secondly, his memory was so good that each story will have detailed dates, figures and people's names spiced up with the motions of the times. </span></span></p><div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the first day when I met him, I understood why Karuppiah of Klang was called "Bengali Karuppiah" .... not because he looks like a Bengali, but because he beat up a Bengali man due to some cow dispute!! On this day also I understood he has very high regard for one Muthu from Singapore which I found out after marriage that Muthu refers to "Muthu Annan" whom my wife had spoken about previously.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">By the second day, he owned up</span></b><span style="color: #050505;"> "I was completely against you marrying my daughter. It was like a big blow to my status in the Gounder clan. Then I spoke to Muthu and he told me that I should accept it if my daughter is happy with the choice. And by the time I met you, I decided that I am going ahead with the decision" That was a big milestone in my decision of marriage.</span></span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>As we moved along ...</b></span></h2><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each time we met, I was getting an updated version of his village and stories of his childhood as I was beginning to build my image of India. I (and all my family) had never been to India at that time! His narrations were very specific about the "teppa kolam" (small pond) at the village, his adventures of walking off in the middle of the night to see a movie and returning before anyone is awake, and the many attempts he made to get his passport to come to Malaysia (then </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Malaya</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">).</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was so frank that many in the family fears his stories that may reveal too much of the hidden secrets and mysteries, which I must admit was indeed true and was really fun hearing the occasionally "juicy" truth rather than filtered stories. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">W</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">e had a good time during the several holidays when he was with us to Cameron Highlands, Singapore, Penang, Kota Tinggi Waterfalls, Lake Gardens and Melaka. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Among the trip that he enjoyed the most must be the trip where he went to India and had real fun with his brother-in-law, Ramasamy of Vagurampatti. He spoke of this visit so frequently that I clearly "remember" the stalls where they had drinks, the pond where they had roast duck with idli and the days that they enjoyed each other's company at the office. We were trying to arrange another such visit but the efforts failed. The only trip we could manage last year was one to Singapore where we had a barbecue by the seaside. </span></span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.41px;"><b>My memorable "wedding invitation" trip ...</b></span></span></h2><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.41px;">By the time my first sister in law was getting married, I was a good companion for him to chat with each time we met. So I was assigned to take him on a round trip send my sister-in-law's marriage invitation to some family members and several of his friends. </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.41px;">On that "invitation" trip the travel took us through memory lane as it was to his younger day's region - Chembong, Negeri Sembilan. And indeed he was so elated to go to his original enclave and barge into his friends' houses - while also barging into wrong houses twice - and scolding the lady of the house who opened the door to a stranger!! </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.41px;">Chembong Estate is where he had come and settled into a job when he arrived in Malaya. This is where he had bachelor friends who shared the estate quarters with him, cooked wild boar and enjoyed the night with beer during paydays, rented a car to watch movies in nearby Seremban town and made a maiden trip to Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur. He was a bachelor with no hooks having fun with no limit (I assume) until my mother in law arrived to tighten his freedom 😐</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.41px;">When we went there to send the wedding invitation, he was like a young boy enjoying the past glories while narrating those events to me.</span></span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Going back to the beginning ...</span></h2><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in India, when the story of jobs in Malaya was going crazy, he and a group of friends gave their money and details to an agent in the village to apply for the visa. The agent was under police surveillance for some other fraudulent activity, which came to light when the long delay for stamped passports ended with the sight of the agent's house being sealed with police tape! Now the passports are stuck inside the house and the money is as good as gone.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some villagers probably climbed into the house through the roof and "rescued" the passports which were found to be un-stamped. Now the money is gone and the visa is not in hand. With that, he made a second attempt through another agent and got the visa.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The landing point was Singapore where the stay was with a group of Gounders. The close-knit community had shared accommodation for those who arrive looking for jobs. Staying there are trying to find a job did not yield much result, but his brother (who was years elder to him) took him to Serkam in Melaka. From there he landed a job in Chembong Estate through some known network of people.</span></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Missing a friend ...</b></h2><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, it is very nice to have had such a good "friend" in my life and to have heard significantly interesting stories that I would never have heard otherwise. The hours of listening that I did is the greatest memory now that I try to recollect some interesting episodes. Considering the days when the cultural perspectives were strong in the community, his guts to take the controversial decision to allow me to marry his daughter was exemplary. And he stood by the decision without giving in to the pressure from some relatives.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I certainly miss his stories ... most of the stories would have been repeated many times, but each time it would have a few new points and sometimes reveals the secrets of the past.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><br /></i></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><u>Footnote: </u><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.41px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Part of this content was published as a Facebook Note on 8th March 2010. Reproduced here and expanded to safeguard the content since Facebook (now Meta) has discontinued the Notes feature.</span></div></div></div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-36154887828397131932022-02-25T01:38:00.016+08:002022-10-16T21:38:49.447+08:00Slow down, listen to life's music and embrace the journey<p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">My world has two sides, like the </span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">yin and yang</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;"> ... one that is </span><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">designed for speed</span></b><span style="color: #444444;"> and the other </span><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">designed for a stroll</span></b><span style="color: #444444;">. </span></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmeyNNEJivx8QC3i66Ph-__FHI3ozITHeangkjbFAEWkeKwcy7Iek-_dxHO9zvfFClCgyIR_s9K9OdwEihnpPv3KgOo757Zu6aQBbJT0Y4jtMnJXP8XuhEegUWaOQijLkO_P0wc5vJtISnTM0Mp3Jzv-NRxfWcPa_piJtIVCrqfWJzndLfHPC5N57s=s3264" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"><img alt="Ravindran Raghavan at Dubai" border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="1836" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmeyNNEJivx8QC3i66Ph-__FHI3ozITHeangkjbFAEWkeKwcy7Iek-_dxHO9zvfFClCgyIR_s9K9OdwEihnpPv3KgOo757Zu6aQBbJT0Y4jtMnJXP8XuhEegUWaOQijLkO_P0wc5vJtISnTM0Mp3Jzv-NRxfWcPa_piJtIVCrqfWJzndLfHPC5N57s=w225-h400" title="Visit to Burjuman, Dubai. 2021" width="225"></span></a><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">When I reached 50, I had a misconception that I have understood the world. Due to a not-by-design stroke of the paintbrush, I had an unexpected twist of my career that saw me walking along Dubai Marina all alone on weekends listening to my favourite music and having ample time to re-evaluate the priorities of my life. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">The experimental change from Kuala Lumpur (living with family) to Dubai (living by myself) changed my perspective on life drastically. I realised that many things that I took for granted in relationships, health and happiness requires attention. I was more selfish in the pre-50 segment of my life and mistook the experiences as "knowing a lot about life" just to learn at 50 that I knew very little.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">Over the next few years, I lost weight, gained stamina, improved my tolerances with people around me, understood that the world revolves without my help, and started enjoying the new "me". Today, I am 57 (wow! time flies indeed) and my priorities have totally changed over the last 7 years. I value things and people very differently. And I value my time in my job differently too. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">Ok, so coming to the "</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">my world has two sides</span><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">" part. </span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">I work with a boss who is young, energetic and extremely futuristic.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"> So much so that the people around him would grasp only a fraction of what he narrates from his vision. Imagine listening to a new concept for half an hour and ending up knowing less than when you started ... that's how it would feel in the beginning. A few more Google searches and reading will be required to connect the dots properly.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;"><span>I am doing a catch-up job each time he shares a video, book or new technology. If he had the right resources, he would "land a rocket on Mars tomorrow", that is the speed of thought with the level of his detailing and conceptualising of the game plan. On our daily conversations, I hear thoroughly thought through details on self-adjusting colour on droplets of paint that can create a whole wall of image based on the algorithm, sustainable island resorts with self-contained supplies, tooth-fairy tales that educates children, </span><span>underground farming to preserve the land above, a complete under-the-surface city, smart accommodation with self-managed self-billing services,</span><span> </span><span>and many more.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;">My workdays start with a dose of one of the videos or a chapter of one of the books that he has shared. Usually, these materials will awaken the senses and charge up the adrenalin for the day. Speed. That's the result of the action. Some of the references would be a discovery of something that I had not thought of ... like hearing that "the website design should have </span><u><span style="color: #666666;">slightly off black fonts</span></u><span style="color: #444444;"> and </span><u><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #666666;">a tad off white background</span></u><span style="color: #444444;">" i.e., it should never be fully white or fully black; to suit the human eye ... I bet you must be Googling this now!! </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">After some period of being exposed to this "radiation of virtual energy", I became habituated to depth-in-the-details views on things. I don't know what this is going to do to me in my old age ... would my kids serve me coffee from a distance with a long bamboo stick because I want it "exactly 83 deg C with Liberica beans in an off-white coffee mug with a grey handle"? ... maybe not, because my younger son measures the temperature of the oil using a digital thermometer when frying chicken and that irks his grandma ... so looks like I have rubbed it on him 😆</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">On the other hand, </span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">my boss' other half is a medical doctor (by qualification) and an entrepreneur (by design) who promotes inner well being</span><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">, under the brand name Bodysm. I happen to be one of the Instagram followers of the well-being space and Bodysm's postings usually trigger the "Oh that's worth thinking!" reaction because some of them would lend the opposite perspective compared to my workday Tony Robbin's noise and thunder.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">Considering that I am on my halfway point to retirement</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">*</span><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">, my weekends are usually the complete opposite of workdays. I wake up early, get my caffeine boost at the hotel coffee house, have a chat with Azhar the enthusiastic waiter ... and then it's personal time ... wandering to a mall for a second coffee while watching responsible fathers deal with their kids who are trying to play hide and seek under the table while tilting the hot coffee or seeing faithful husbands getting a brief lesson from the wife with a complete reference to the last 5 years' data of his misdoings (he stands no chance in that debate as he won't remember any of those past events!). And I would feel so lucky to be all by myself and have the almond croissant with no one to tell me how that could shorten my lifespan by 3 minutes over the next 10 years ... and oh yes, I would miss home badly 😜 </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">That's the time when these messages from Bodysm would awaken the other side of the Atlantic ocean, the brain cells that were sleeping during the workday. It would now be the "slow down, listen to the music, do not multitask and kill yourself, watch and embrace life" kind of perspective to life. When I am basking in the glorified retirement mission, these are absolutely the way to go! Embrace life, and not race with it. The 2022 opening message "Do not multitask" hit the home button on my keyboard of resolutions. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">With that, my resolution for the weekends has been "do not multitask ... catch one friend who has nothing to do ... listen to his version of why the world needs him ... and then go on with my mission of watching-the-world-go-by". Oh my, that has made my weekends feel so "spacious" ... giving the mind enough electricity to value the sights of birds chirping at the outdoor seats of Nero Cafe, the petunia on the road shoulders that colour the walkway and the workers who are enjoying their meal heartily while squatting on the ground within their exhibition workspace.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444; font-size: medium;">Life is dynamic. I cannot say that the thoughts of today are permanent. For now, the combination of high energy weekdays and low-speed weekends feels refreshing. It's like a cycle of charge and discharge. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">*</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><i>Just for you to know and in case you want to fund my empty plans </i>😀<i>... by retirement, I do not mean doing nothing and watching the neighbour's dog chase its tail. My glorified retirement dream is to visit the smaller countries in the world, listen to some old folks re-live their past glory by sharing their story, ... and chase some insects with my macro lens while "slowing down and embracing the music of life"</i></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #ffa400; text-align: left;"><span><br></span></span></span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">... BY THE WAY, on the sidelines ...</span></div><p></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;"><span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;">Make it a mission for tomorrow's breakfast - take a spoonful of Liberica</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;">*</span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"> "television brand Kluang coffee", mix in cold water to create the "expresso", filter it into an off-white ceramic mug then add 83 deg C hot water (not boiling water), stir to perfection, add no sugar and sit on the outdoor seat. </span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_u-rUkEjXethCfFTrtMfkHUVlIy66jKNr8nD3hh6OlOS4MRDQRjrqSXmCBSkI3lC8LRCnHqkPGuOFHLBP6YSga1B1VAWstiXVO5HHWghvdlYMhByoME9wNWwHRMFHPrHcNjdIM7psYHEuTeOf1FEuUZ8BpwJjTDTTpbMfg3-rdp3OLZsppxx0RX9I" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="coffee in a mug" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="815" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_u-rUkEjXethCfFTrtMfkHUVlIy66jKNr8nD3hh6OlOS4MRDQRjrqSXmCBSkI3lC8LRCnHqkPGuOFHLBP6YSga1B1VAWstiXVO5HHWghvdlYMhByoME9wNWwHRMFHPrHcNjdIM7psYHEuTeOf1FEuUZ8BpwJjTDTTpbMfg3-rdp3OLZsppxx0RX9I=w199-h200" title="Coffee in an off-white mug" width="199"></a></span>You will have the kind of coffee that will change your caffeine experience exponentially as you enjoy the inviting colour of the coffee (with the right contrast to the off-white mug), with the plume of steam dancing above the cup (against the backdrop of the chirping birds) and the smooth tasting coffee synonym to an XO cognac.</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><i style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*Liberica </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">accounts for less than 1.5% of global coffee, is quite rare, and has its caffeine concentration at ~1.23g per 100g which is the lowest among the 3 coffee cultivars. Fortunately, my hometown, Kluang in Malaysia a growing region for this coffee variant. The television brand was established in 1966 when I was one year old and still running in my napkins.</span></span></i><span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"><br></span><div><p><br></p></div></div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-5969560118037283072022-02-06T01:02:00.017+08:002022-03-01T22:16:06.574+08:00The journey through time 1947 to 2001 (Vijay Hariyani)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Vijay Hariyani became a friend by chance when his son, Rahul Hariyani (CFO, IAL Group, Dubai) was my colleague. His rhetorical way of describing his deep experiences of the yesteryears impressed me and I became a fan of his stories. Other than our meets in Kutch when I travel for work, it has been routine to meet each time he comes to Dubai.</span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi78JltSuOwo7qTN2dRkJuafRl338BNHiKrPACZuvVr7ftZZamWzw8BwSM14VqMXJXTNt8VYxu6LznWjx39x9XGeYprGjNw9uirbeVSoBvlIf1BXh3cWkOwx-pkG_-OLnQrwZHiwJ879QHpr6T0leDr4fVnqKcxhWncPFAXdzz0ObS73rIoed8d5MBV=s2048" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img alt="Vijay Hariyani with Ravindran Raghavan" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1231" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi78JltSuOwo7qTN2dRkJuafRl338BNHiKrPACZuvVr7ftZZamWzw8BwSM14VqMXJXTNt8VYxu6LznWjx39x9XGeYprGjNw9uirbeVSoBvlIf1BXh3cWkOwx-pkG_-OLnQrwZHiwJ879QHpr6T0leDr4fVnqKcxhWncPFAXdzz0ObS73rIoed8d5MBV=w240-h400" title="Coffee with Vijay Hariyani at Paul's Cafe, Dubai" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Today's coffee chat at Paul Cafe (Deira City Centre) took me on a journey through the <b>Kutch Kori</b> (native currency pre-1947), <b>coalfields of Uttar Pradesh</b> (1979), <b>salt fields of Kandla</b> (1986), and a live narration of the mega <b>earthquake of Kutch</b> (2001, 15 mins before the Republic Day flag raising). His stories had </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">enough material for a good history book with a presentation of emotions and a storyline that match the quality of Discovery Channel.</span></span><p></p><p><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Kutch Kori</span></b></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It looks like the British left Kutch undisturbed during their rule of India. The place being barren and with no tangible commodity became just a royalty-paying "region" where the maharaja pays a royalty to the British and remain cordial. Kutch Kori, the currency of Kuth, was in play as a parallel currency at that time with coins of silver and copper. This was later replaced by the Indian rupee after 1947. </span></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>Coalfields of Uttar Pradesh</b><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> (1979)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Vijay's career as the Commercial Manager at a Chemical Unit in Barabanki UP took him to the coalfields of Uttar Pradesh where he was sent through the town of Banaras into the jungles where coal was being mined, and his employer was looking for 10 loads of coal every day. The complex haggling for prices with the brokers in Banaras was tough. At premium prices, coal was readily available in required quantities and the right quality too but that was not optimum for the company.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Being a "Registered Coal Consuming Industry," the company was eligible to get government approval for sourcing coal directly from surface coal miners in Vindhyachal, the hilly jungle areas at the border of Uttar Pradesh-Bihar. But transportation would be a challenge. Vijay has never done such sourcing before and this was a "national geographic" kind of challenge!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Vijay's efforts to track deeper and reach the source of coal was through one of his transport vendors in Banaras. Having reached the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">Vindhyachal </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;">coalfields on a four-wheel-drive jeep and met Mr Singh, the ex-military Punjabi "controller" of the field, he understood that the task of getting 10 loads of 12 MT a day was much more difficult than what was explained by his contact in Banaras! His purchase order of 500 MT of coal was not going to be useful unless there are trucks to carry them to town.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Mr Singh, the controller, introduced him to the twisted-moustache-bearing tough gentleman called Tej Balisingh who was the de-facto contractor of the workers in the field. He promptly agreed to place sufficient workers to load the trucks. But then the next day was going to be the "test of fire" to see if the promised 10 trucks were going to arrive to pick the coals. As with most promises of the day, 3 trucks arrived with a load of empty promised that saw no more than 3 coming to load the coals each day thereafter. Vijay's employer was losing patience and a sure-fire solution was needed to address the backlog. Mr Singh's experienced advice was to seek the help of Tej Balisingh to secure more trucks. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Having heard the story of the new city executive who has come to the jungle with a purchase order but no trucks, Tej invited Vijay to dinner. And to add misery to Tej, his guest was a vegetarian who consumes none of the freshly hunted deer meat nor the carefully cooked lamb. Aloo Tikki (a potato dish) and roti (local bread) settled the dinner fare. And now Tej invites Vijay to join him for hunting that night. They get onto his jeep, drive deep into the jungle where the sound of the jeep was louder than the roaring tiger. Apart from that, the silence was as good as wearing a noise-cancelling earbud. After reaching the selected spot, conducting a small prayer ritual with whiskey, and serving small shots of whiskey as blessings of the day, Tej was ready with his gun. As envisaged by Tej, the deer appeared as though the whiskey sprinkles has drawn it to the bull's eye of the hunter's gun! There goes a loud shot and a sprawling deer. It was not a sight that Vijay could stomach nor forget for several days.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">After the non-customary vegetarian dinner, jungle prayer of whiskey and the successful deer hunt, tej became a good friend. Now he promised to look into the truck fiasco. True to the twists of his moustache, Tej secured 10 trucks a day and saved the target delivery for Vijay's purchase order. My thoughts - that must have been a major feeling of success when Vijay managed to crack the "code" and achieve the delivery. A total of 3 purchase order cycles of 500 MT each was executed during his engagement at this coalfield, by which time the normal supply of coal resumed.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In his days at the coalfields, he had his share of witnessing Tej beat up a misbehaving driver who disturbed a local lady and also face an angry driver who drew a knife to kill him! As the driver who cut the queue and refused to go back in line reached the weighbridge, there stood Vijay blocking him from entry. And that awakened the sleeping cat causing the driver to release a movie standard dialogue " Do you know who am I? I have murdered two people before this and am familiar with the punishments. This is nothing new to me" ... and he drew his knife. Vijay has an option to think of his wife in town and back off, which would mean that he is defeated forever. Or stand the ground and get killed! Vijay decided to release his version of a movie standard dialogue "Go ahead commit the third murder!" Viola!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Fortunately, the news of the fight had reached Mr Singh on high ground and by the time the knife-wielding driver grasped the handle of his knife, he was manhandled by Singh's men and brought to "justice". </span></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>Earthquake of Kutch</b><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> (2001)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I am going to zig-zag into this timeline as I want to end the story on a positive note. This is a sad history that is absolutely necessary to pen down but not pleasant to dwell on. The earthquake was a very sad episode that resonated all the way to Malaysia where I lived and we had friends who organised aid and supplies to Gujerat at that time (my other memory was when I was involved in the aids to the Maldives during the tsunami incident).</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Going by the day's flow from sunrise to 08:45am, combining some news stories into our conversation and "seeing" the picture of the day ... this is how the day played in my mind as Vijay was talking about it ...</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">While all preparations for the Indian Republic Day was underway on 26th January 2001, the flag-raising in various schools, office buildings, government complexes and business premises was planned for 09:00am. Hemlata, Vijay's wife, was away in Mount Abu for a Rotary Club function while Vijay had to cancel his trip at the last minute due to the visit by his company's Director. The company Director, Ms Bhartiben Shethia and her daughter had checked in to a hotel the day before while Vijay was reading his papers in the morning lying on his easy chair.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Unknown to Vijay at that time, some 300 school children were walking in a long line weaving through narrow lanes between buildings to get to their school ground for the flag-raising. Vijay's fellow Rotarian friend cancelled his visit to Mount Abu since Vijay could not make the trip and he went to the Chamber of Commerce building on that morning.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Opposite the lane, Vijay's neighbour, a retired colonel was going about sipping his coffee on a slow morning, while Vijay's driver was making his way towards the house to fetch Vijay to the hotel where Ms Bhartiben was staying.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At around 08:45am Vijay heard an eery rumbling sound combined with a violent swing of his ceiling fan which was standing motionlessly till then as it was switched off due to the cool winter weather. Within seconds his cupboard in the living room crashed to the floor, things in the house started tossing around and as he ran out of the back door the fence wall collapsed right beside him while he saw a whole apartment building collapsing in the foreground at a distant. It dawned to him that it is an earthquake but there was no time to think or grasp the intensity of the 90-second magnitude 7.7 shakes that destroyed Kutch.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As it came in the news later, sadly, the 300 schoolchildren who were parading in the narrow lane died being trapped under the collapsed buildings near Anjar township. What a morning, that turned into mourning so quickly!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Scores of people were killed under rubble and Vijay found out that his friend at the Chamber Of Commerce building was an unfortunate casualty. Vijay's driver tried to drive off to safety only to realise that there was no "safety" zone anywhere within the next 50km. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">He finally reached the house, fetched Vijay and they went to check on Ms Bhartiben at the hotel. Fortunately, most of the hotel occupants has escaped but were shaken from the incident. They could not go back to Bombay since all roads to Kutch were cut off. There comes a challenge for their stay and meals till connections are restored. Fortunately, Vijay's neighbour, the ex-colonel gave a staying place to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: large;">Ms Bhartiben </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">and her daughter till roads were re-opened several days later when they could travel to Ahmedabad and fly to Bombay from there.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A charged-up morning filled with the enthusiasm of Republic Day turned into mourning just 15 minutes before the flags were raised. This incident will stay in the memories of the people here for years to come.</span></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>Salt fields of Kandla</b><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> (1986)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">After the successful adventure with Tej Balisingh in the coalfields of Uttar Pradesh, Vijay's career took a turn towards the salt fields of Kandla where the company was having a yield of 60,000 metric tonnes from a salt field covering 4,300 acres (well, that is the size of 4 small towns!) when the benchmark was 200,000 metric tonnes annually. The salt fields were financially strapped and continuously reaching out to their offices in Mumbai for funds. The mission was for Vijay to get the operations to stand on its own feet without "begging from head office"! That was a pretty steep expectation on his shoulders for the new assignment where he had no experience whatsoever. All he had was the experience of dealing with the knife-wielding driver and managing the trucks organised by the twisted moustached Tej Balisingh.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Upon landing on the salt plains he realised that there were 2 units where the company operated its salt production, the 4,300 acres plot at Kandla and another smaller plot on the western side, Jakhau. The Jakhau was not operating for almost 8 years due to financial and logistics problems while staff were being paid wages! Their wage has been on a backlog of 6 months with an occasional payout when the head office sends funds. That operation was totally unsustainable due to low yields. Vijay took control of the operating plot in Kandla and began his new adventure of learning from ground zero. His walks along the bunds and talks with the lower level workers slowly gave him the awareness of what was going wrong.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Further analysis of the financials to see the amount of money spent for different purposes revealed that the company has been spending on wages, transport, logistics, and also bund repair. But the bunds were in a dismal condition causing saltwater to zig-zag its way the spill off into wrong pathways as well as slip back into the ocean. So, this time when money was allocated to repair the bunds, Vijay decided to walk there himself and stand there to see why the repair was not working. As expected (or unexpected) the truth revealed itself - the repair was being sub-contracted to a contractor who was supplying 3 workers for the job while claiming the costs for 10 thus the work was in theory only 30% done. When this was fixed, the bunds had better efficiency while slowly increasing the yield.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, the bank had to be appeased. There were 200,000 metric tonnes pledged as inventory while the real inventory was less than 20,000 metric tonnes. Previously the bank had been briefed that the salt layer is deep so the remaining inventory was "underground". Now the bank caught up with the truth and was becoming restless with the arrears of loan payment as well as the "missing" inventory. Vijay would have no choice but to own up to the correct numbers and find a way to streamline the loan repayments.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">What the place needed was a champion to support the activities and Vijay's investigation pointed towards an ex-employee, Mr Chothani</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">*</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">, who had left some years back who was said to be a good technical person. Re-hiring him was a challenge because Chothani had left the place when the place was in a hopeless condition. His mind clearly remembers the place and he refused to re-join a "place with no hope and no future". It took some convincing to bring him back and then the conversation of technically improving the bund height and layout began.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>*Mr Chothani became a good friend of Hariyani and his wife Indiraben became his God-sister. Chothani moved to Kenya in 1995 for a salt field development assignment and later passed away in Kenya. His wife, now 84, is now living in Adipur with her son and family.</i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">With all the changes and efforts the yield rose to 220,000 metric tonnes annually and added yet another feather on the cap of Vijay. As the yield improved, sales management was moved to Vijay's portfolio for better control of local selling prices. The combination of positive changes moved the plains into self-sustenance very quickly.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The restless bank agreed to deduct 15% of each incoming payment that was banked in the recover the loans without squeezing the capital. With that, the loans were cleaned up within the next 9 months.</span></p><p><b><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The donkeys of the western salt plain</span></b></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Don't get me wrong, I am saying "donkeys" to mean real donkeys and not humans being called donkeys!!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The western fields at Jakhau were in a point-of-no-return when Vijay approached the senior man in that area, Mr Hussensha Bawa</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #ffa400; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">**</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">, and decided to revamp the workforce. This required the option to retrench the existing workers who have a backlog of months of wages and hire a new workforce. With a circus of union leaders playing in the background, this task was going to have some fireworks in the sky. As the retrenchment benefit package was being announced the sleeping union leaders woke up and coaxed the workers to reject the offer. And now Vijay is in another situation like the knife-wielding driver of the coalfield weighbridge. The question to the union leaders was "Where were you when these people were not getting their salaries?" and he told the workers "You have a choice to accept or to continue with your salary dues which you can go and ask the union to pay!" With that, the conclusion became as clear as daylight.</span></p><p><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">**Mr Hussensha Bawa who was working in Jakhau since the start of the saltworks during the 1950s, had vast knowledge of salt activities. Though he was Hariyani's assistant, he evolved to be a mentor who guided Hariyani with his skills in understanding the </span><span style="background-color: white;">local geographical and political</span><span style="background-color: white;"> aspects</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">. He passed away in later years but his children are well settled and are in close contact with Hariyani till today</span></i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Now, where does he go for the money? he needed Rs 400,000 for the settlement and the head office was not in a good mood to dish out that fund. The senior fellow at the plains came up and gave Vijay a piece of breaking news. Gypsum is a byproduct of salt harvesting. Usually, salt fields would mine the gypsum and sell for an added sideline revenue. The senior says that this plain has never been mined for gypsum thus there should be enough gypsum deposits to cover the Rs400,000 requirement.</span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The company's head office would be more than glad if funds can be raised internally at the plains with gypsum. Just like the story of the coal and the trucks; finding a buyer who would purchase the gypsum on an as-is-basis was not going to be easy. Buyers were offering Rs65 per MT when the cost of harvesting and heaping was Rs95 per MT, so that was a crazy no-deal. This cycle of hide-and-seek with buyers went on until the man with the donkeys appeared. He offered an option to first investigate the viability then make an offer.</span></span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This man had 50 donkeys and 4 workmen! He placed a few donkeys in his logistics plan to transport the gypsum 3km from the site to the heaping ground. With his test, he found that it was indeed viable and offered Rs25 per MT for the job. Now the whole deal became happily viable. Vijay grabbed the opportunity and agreed to pay him Rs30 per MT instead with an agreement to speed up the work. The donkey owner now introduced the main buyer who was in Porbandar, who in turn was supplying the gypsum to cement plants. Now the Porbandar man becomes the next good friend of Vijay and remained friends for years to come.</span></span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, the troop of 50 donkeys carried the gypsum diligently for 3km in multiple trips to create heaps at the loading bay. the buyer paid Rs400,000 as advance and that solved the worker's benefits package. Surprisingly, the donkeys were operating without any human intervention on their 3 km journey!! When the bag was mounted on the donkey, filled with gypsum and with a tap on the back it walks all the way to the heaping area. Upon unloading they walk back to the starting point. At the end of the day when the bag is removed they hop off to the feeding spot! That would have been an amazing 50 donkey logistics team to shoot a video if it was now.</span></span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Now, with the earnings from the huge quantities of gypsum deposits generating good cash flow, the Jakhau salt field restarted its operations in 1989. Another "success father" on Vijay's cap.</span></span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>... our next adventure</b></span></span></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #050505;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">By the end of the stories, we had finished our Americano and cappuccino with a host of soft bread, almond croissant and chocolate pastry. And now we began planning a visit to Expo2020. </span></span></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-62842013839673556122021-11-14T00:54:00.005+08:002022-02-09T15:37:30.669+08:00Resident of a hotel<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I had been a "long term resident" of Ibis One Central in Dubai over the past several years [2015 till 2019] where I stay for 1-2 months on each check-in cycle. Combining that with frequent visits to India (again staying in hotels) and my holidays with hotel stays, I would have clocked 310 days in hotels every year! My life had been as a resident of hotels.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGJZnwkwgVM5KWbVvBpaCumAs7FwE2OZ0JEa7zqPp_R4UFoMdX_Z4ZoXbIqKIMaK8N7X27KhPRQppy2LljzBls4realHcKinaJVNxJNofEi4MfLzueRgOuUth0UAMiM6futSSzu1W7AEetRG74YWVLvSHJmcbSA-l0L2AZB9wUt0Oooaw-a0kK_o-L=s1280" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img alt="Flower arrangement at Novotel lobby" border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGJZnwkwgVM5KWbVvBpaCumAs7FwE2OZ0JEa7zqPp_R4UFoMdX_Z4ZoXbIqKIMaK8N7X27KhPRQppy2LljzBls4realHcKinaJVNxJNofEi4MfLzueRgOuUth0UAMiM6futSSzu1W7AEetRG74YWVLvSHJmcbSA-l0L2AZB9wUt0Oooaw-a0kK_o-L=w225-h400" title="Novotel World Trade Centre, Dubai" width="225" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">After a short spell of being at home during the Covid lockdown, I am back again in Novotel World Trade Centre in Dubai for the last few months (since the end of July 2021).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">That's a very unique experience ... not having a regular home. One of my most enjoyable positive factors of being a hotel resident is the ability to walk into a clean room every day without doing the cleaning myself. The housekeeping staff would have done my bed and cleaned the bathroom for my next day's use. Then there is the glory of going for breakfast and browsing through the choices, though it is boring sometimes, the ease of just getting there and having coffee without much effort is again a real comfort in the morning.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">More than those, the people watching hobby is indeed therapeutic. At the Millenium hotel lobby, there is a <span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span>Costa Coffee where I stop for breakfast on some days. Last week there was a father with a young kid (boy) and a toddler (girl) buying breakfast. The boy took an orange juice and joined the father at the counter, where the father was ordering his coffee, while the girl squeezes hesefl out of pram, walks to the fridge and takes an orange juice as well. She then slips, falls on the ground, makes a somersault of sorts while holding tight to the orange juice bottle ... walks like a drunk sailor towards the boy and gives a stare to the boy as if saying "if you want it, I too want it" while watching the father by the corner of her eye. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span>The father soon notices this and pays for that juice as well. A</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">ll of them got to the table near mine, sat down, the father keeps his coffee out of reach, the boy started drinking his juice and the father now opened the orange juice bottle and hands it to the girl. Guess what she screams "No, I want chocolate!!!!!!!!!" ... </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the father was trying to get even with the "conflict", </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">the boy was playing "papan gelongsor" (in Malay this means sliding plank) ... he was enjoying sliding under the table and sliding back up repeatedly ... enjoying the morning exercise!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the daddy finished the diplomatic conversation with the girl, the boy gets stuck under the table and his hands were frantically trying to reach the table edge to inch himself up ... and the father reaches for his coffee and grabs it to avoid it spilling onto the boy's head!!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the "stress management" session went on while I finished my breakfast and caught the train to office :-) </span></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-49969934837455135262021-08-27T01:49:00.001+08:002022-02-09T15:43:30.858+08:00You know about all this, don't you, mom?<p><span style="font-size: medium;">"I never say this to anyone ... but I am afraid of the dark, mom! I don't express it, but I care a lot about you mom ... <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">you know about all this, don't you, mom</span></b>?" from the movie Taare Zameen Par touched my friend so much that he cries when he hears this song. And I am not talking about a "kuchi bhai" scary friend, this is a grown friend who is a terror at his workplace and dares to speak to even the President of the United States if he needs to ... and that's not an overrated description, that's him!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNNH9DVu5GP7y5Wu3VnK9gLnUwrXmZgD7ogT68L1Xp3_fXd9jFIyAAeUeG24S-n-RxTxZh6oWfqEYzgJygrPsIWYSwdDGeQ3UU-43muhDCYWPI8TgTEje_6RoXtssbTkYM9SeA-BZodeO15La-_lJJcvoYsN1tAzr8s8x-nAmERyTtPC_q6urgyFFB=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="Alexander Joseph with Ravindran Raghavan" border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNNH9DVu5GP7y5Wu3VnK9gLnUwrXmZgD7ogT68L1Xp3_fXd9jFIyAAeUeG24S-n-RxTxZh6oWfqEYzgJygrPsIWYSwdDGeQ3UU-43muhDCYWPI8TgTEje_6RoXtssbTkYM9SeA-BZodeO15La-_lJJcvoYsN1tAzr8s8x-nAmERyTtPC_q6urgyFFB=w400-h225" title="Lunch with Alexander in Dubai" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">When he narrated the gist of the movie and how some of its sentiments connect to his journey in a boarding school since 42 months old, that hit my soft spot. I couldn't resist watching the movie and by the time it reached this song, I could feel the emotions of the boy as I watched his act. The movie's slow progress into the boy's saga at the boarding school felt so real.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Getting sent to a boarding school at three and half year's old is not easy to digest. That is a "baby" just beginning to understand the world and getting ready with excitement to explore the possibilities ... with an eager mind seeing the colours and grasping the sounds of the earth within an infant heart trying to make sense of the sights, smell and sensations. That baby has not felt the boundless freedom of a child yet.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As he got ready to kick the ball, chase the cat and run with the dog, he is enrolled in a <i>high calibre institution with a well-planned schedule of inducing academic content into human beings to shape the top brains of the country</i>, called "boarding school". Before he tasted the opportunity to connect with the world and understand the emotions around him, he is in an envelope with strangers trying to make sense of each other's social abilities.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">While I write this blog I can feel several dots of deep emotions that he must have gone through when his mom and dad left him there for the first time. A sudden gush of "I am here all by myself" as the song goes "Don't leave me alone in the crowds ... I won't be able to return home. Don't send me far away that you won't even remember me, mom". True to the words of the song, his boarding school was several hours away from his playground, far away in Kottayam (Kerala, India).</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"<i>Mom, you wanted the best for me, but all I wanted was to be with you when I was an eager child with an attention span of a puppy. You sent me on a journey of many miles that took me through the best schools and universities ... and it moulded me in the design that you chose just to deflect me many more miles away from home in search of a career ... I won the game as you planned for me, and I saw the world from a high altitude ... but now, after many miles and several thousand days since Kottayam, I yearn to be with you and hear your voice in person. I hope you would remember me when I get back in your arms</i>" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Fortunate for me, I left home only at 20 ... and that image of the day when I left home is still fresh in my mind. As I left on my dad's Honda C-70 motorcycle with one luggage bag and my backpack, mom was holding her emotions and waving at me. My sister and brother were just staring with no way of defining their feelings. We were one family with a full quorum at our daily dinner for many many years ... and we have clocked several thousand hours of conversations at the verandah. For the first time I was going to be "alone", and it took me a few months to come to terms with it. In contrast, my friend faced this complex emotional twine at an age when he could not explain it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">On the lighter side, as the days went by, I became acquainted with university life and started enjoying the high-speed train to freedom! It was like having my own world where I could design my days and my future the way I wanted. The emotions became easier to manage and the routine holiday travel back home became fun ... until I met my valentine ... and now the tide has turned, it was difficult to leave university during holidays as that meant being away from her! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">... and now, at 56, my journey away from home continues in Dubai. </span> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-24035037232750111792021-02-08T20:41:00.001+08:002022-02-09T15:46:43.246+08:00Sunset & sunrise in Dubai, UAE<h2 style="text-align: center;">SUNRISE VIEWS </h2><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The winter sunrise and sunsets in Dubai are spectacular views that require a lot of patience and good timing. On a clear day, from a high building, we can view all the way to the sea.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQgKDhRRp8Twf-axsmbliDjcFX41F13GUn0f6b-yyein9dxOkkz99TI4fH2u5n5RMfiAtZd8t-yPZsVb2HDeF2lJ14nzZTnSNW2FPtswYfvEV3B1zHYRJ8Qk__J3gnL8D5MKLeC4OPgY/s2048/RAV_7400-001.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sunrise at Creek, Dubai" border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="2048" height="445" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQgKDhRRp8Twf-axsmbliDjcFX41F13GUn0f6b-yyein9dxOkkz99TI4fH2u5n5RMfiAtZd8t-yPZsVb2HDeF2lJ14nzZTnSNW2FPtswYfvEV3B1zHYRJ8Qk__J3gnL8D5MKLeC4OPgY/w640-h445/RAV_7400-001.JPG" title="Backdrop of Burj Khalifa during sunrise" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;">Buildings start to glisten in gold as the sun rises. The birds awaken and start their morning ritual of being early to catch the worm.</div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReOEDxWu1G6F2dIEK58ADKxmNSLmzmy4TNsUZxSu-nLFv3KQnz7OZVvkCDrq1FxYB44HOEhvCHIuN3n7vSKwsILPeLkLnF9GU14N1I3jyQpUyT0Dlgw36QglHqC_2X6-fh-knPKsQADk/s2048/RAV_7219.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Photographer at sunrise" border="0" data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="2048" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReOEDxWu1G6F2dIEK58ADKxmNSLmzmy4TNsUZxSu-nLFv3KQnz7OZVvkCDrq1FxYB44HOEhvCHIuN3n7vSKwsILPeLkLnF9GU14N1I3jyQpUyT0Dlgw36QglHqC_2X6-fh-knPKsQADk/w640-h436/RAV_7219.JPG" title="Rahul Hariyani photographing sunrise in Dubai" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My photography partner, Rahul Hariyani, and I decided to get to the creekside as early as 5am to wait for the perfect moment.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzvw5K1pnPjIyvTUNk1fBPp6fozWFIwfztZ4r5eJCC9_fbe4o5S7ydlzQtEK0SXsSbuAKFHLPnv7CMnKEcA6R7YIeu76xCUtqrjt5XgAlvEeKbJUCjqqV_b92GlPcbswQSql9ZVojAy4/s2599/RAV_7306.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sunrise view at Creek Dubai" border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="2599" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzvw5K1pnPjIyvTUNk1fBPp6fozWFIwfztZ4r5eJCC9_fbe4o5S7ydlzQtEK0SXsSbuAKFHLPnv7CMnKEcA6R7YIeu76xCUtqrjt5XgAlvEeKbJUCjqqV_b92GlPcbswQSql9ZVojAy4/w640-h298/RAV_7306.JPG" title="Sunrise view at Creek Dubai" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iV1REfUHhBpgIp1yUrbowF-B_hPiQtaW0oQWzh-EmVQtYRdcr3GUe2xSxaKTDhoxt8D-kkAIiZ6Y9Kr6rNmexXZPxkQZA2j0W0BcyqIO3TZWYjOAbH_QK-Bff1tDTRGEAAvBjIGzyZc/s2048/RAV_7194.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sunrise with building silhouette" border="0" data-original-height="1111" data-original-width="2048" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iV1REfUHhBpgIp1yUrbowF-B_hPiQtaW0oQWzh-EmVQtYRdcr3GUe2xSxaKTDhoxt8D-kkAIiZ6Y9Kr6rNmexXZPxkQZA2j0W0BcyqIO3TZWYjOAbH_QK-Bff1tDTRGEAAvBjIGzyZc/w640-h348/RAV_7194.JPG" title="Buidlings at sunrise" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">SUNSET VIEWS</h2></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As the sun sets west, the color scheme is more reddish and we could see the sun dipping under the horizon.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1TI1Mu-H65hVAk_to-y6GiRYtM2BSTIRRZm1dgKTjRv_jYhuhaZ_iXmlUbkBaqOPuxZW-mHWI0NXt4hN8MaE3Lxcf0n0iG0Q68d3E4VBBDxvQ4xUKzeM39iOZvvG-Gm7OTNvRXyu8yU/s2048/NKN_4874.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sunset in Dubai" border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="2048" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1TI1Mu-H65hVAk_to-y6GiRYtM2BSTIRRZm1dgKTjRv_jYhuhaZ_iXmlUbkBaqOPuxZW-mHWI0NXt4hN8MaE3Lxcf0n0iG0Q68d3E4VBBDxvQ4xUKzeM39iOZvvG-Gm7OTNvRXyu8yU/w640-h350/NKN_4874.JPG" title="Sunset relfections on buildings" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Buildings reflect the light on its surface and create a canvas of amber</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaca9_zPqqVLx4nTcurmNe7hNkhiuqfRat2iJnToXXcF0caTa6NLvRC_r4GOKYNipy8uCKvC2PSQFuO3Q8fiHvnrWiaJ3hSuQNoJFzJNkHLz3PabkwnOwwkHUwuxnTFTp_8-1m29755pY/s2048/NKN_4943.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="2048" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaca9_zPqqVLx4nTcurmNe7hNkhiuqfRat2iJnToXXcF0caTa6NLvRC_r4GOKYNipy8uCKvC2PSQFuO3Q8fiHvnrWiaJ3hSuQNoJFzJNkHLz3PabkwnOwwkHUwuxnTFTp_8-1m29755pY/w640-h340/NKN_4943.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79fEEdz76Up2l4OXDpZyUijEkx0BN6kity4ZJqWzTQKVFrBNSn60wwsFDG_Y9FhhA1OXC32_W7QCHcXRnBSz87_fwDaodAKQytPDQBmhTFaHhCWqQ_WtJu_ZsL47BFJpk4ROl5v6d5Jw/s2048/NKN_4959.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="2048" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79fEEdz76Up2l4OXDpZyUijEkx0BN6kity4ZJqWzTQKVFrBNSn60wwsFDG_Y9FhhA1OXC32_W7QCHcXRnBSz87_fwDaodAKQytPDQBmhTFaHhCWqQ_WtJu_ZsL47BFJpk4ROl5v6d5Jw/w640-h384/NKN_4959.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcTpKnXjJ9y1bnVaOUnz5IgtA-NP6sKrYGm8GlhDZZgRlkvbSAJ9eDNiTjtLnr0WJFT6lU3otCZHE85d3koxrpEWg9_PPNpY9XfzYjUInZC5XFCA20Gja_XvxQWzJ1r4HxwWqeNPG4ko/s2048/RAV_6996.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="2048" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcTpKnXjJ9y1bnVaOUnz5IgtA-NP6sKrYGm8GlhDZZgRlkvbSAJ9eDNiTjtLnr0WJFT6lU3otCZHE85d3koxrpEWg9_PPNpY9XfzYjUInZC5XFCA20Gja_XvxQWzJ1r4HxwWqeNPG4ko/w640-h366/RAV_6996.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloyxyuZ92aZdFk_W6dhcUryyVXvEDca_-zeYmzxfZ-cnUOz_m8UNI6VgW2UFLWbv6FJ2sam2Ustf6QzSHFu5eSuwevmdZgFvRF2VCHqCdY-gruVB3ojLPFPLEt6HaUElvtLX_6IFmvGU/s2048/RAV_7079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="2048" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloyxyuZ92aZdFk_W6dhcUryyVXvEDca_-zeYmzxfZ-cnUOz_m8UNI6VgW2UFLWbv6FJ2sam2Ustf6QzSHFu5eSuwevmdZgFvRF2VCHqCdY-gruVB3ojLPFPLEt6HaUElvtLX_6IFmvGU/w640-h386/RAV_7079.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Beautiful sights that are awesome and memorable!</span></div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-38838452217998415872021-02-07T14:12:00.003+08:002021-02-07T14:12:54.060+08:00The romance of Venice<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEJl275GIyk/YB-CGHncwwI/AAAAAAAAYhM/INIzWAhv3lkabhnu7ljNxf66CKl1oB2tQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/DSC06025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Venice from above" border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEJl275GIyk/YB-CGHncwwI/AAAAAAAAYhM/INIzWAhv3lkabhnu7ljNxf66CKl1oB2tQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/DSC06025.JPG" title="Venice" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The reality set in as soon as I landed at the Venice airport. There is no metro train or 4-wheeled taxi to take me to my hotel at Grand Canal. </span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The address of the hotel says "Hotel Carlton at the Grand Canal" and I needed a boat to get there! </span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As I travelled by boat into Venice, I could see why it is said to be a romantic place. For me and my wife, it was as if we were there on our honeymoon. It was indeed romantic.</span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MecPWaMUpUk/YB-DU2prHWI/AAAAAAAAYhY/EUL6LYuClXgduighLVqatAsFqynJqGC2wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/DSC06034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MecPWaMUpUk/YB-DU2prHWI/AAAAAAAAYhY/EUL6LYuClXgduighLVqatAsFqynJqGC2wCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/DSC06034.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The whole place, surrounded by water and waterways, was very soothing and walks along the corridors presented excellent opportunities for my photography. </span></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I clicked away happily and ended my first day with 1,236 photographs of the "streets", canals and boats.</span></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzgL48cHfCREzZo6V8HjxWh0q2E4Mit6kJI6YJ6CzMlLZOG-tOyplFw7rtSlLWO6kd6Jfp5gc7Rfe-quMl53HukT6qY6GO6_O0M3H07z6GA-yDF2xhgvvo4-saATscbS_SmyM0xj-I3s/s2048/DSC_1998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="2048" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzgL48cHfCREzZo6V8HjxWh0q2E4Mit6kJI6YJ6CzMlLZOG-tOyplFw7rtSlLWO6kd6Jfp5gc7Rfe-quMl53HukT6qY6GO6_O0M3H07z6GA-yDF2xhgvvo4-saATscbS_SmyM0xj-I3s/w640-h434/DSC_1998.JPG" width="640" /></a><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JfOb773Rmrw/YB-EQjw4X0I/AAAAAAAAYho/LCUJiyeNrfcmgmtjaoDg_w3_VP-cRkz-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/DSC06467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JfOb773Rmrw/YB-EQjw4X0I/AAAAAAAAYho/LCUJiyeNrfcmgmtjaoDg_w3_VP-cRkz-ACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/DSC06467.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In summary, it was our 3 days well spent and a whole experience that remains as a sweet memory</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-15896153777913955922018-05-22T12:02:00.004+08:002022-02-09T15:49:48.564+08:00Malaysian Indians like me ... translocated from Malabar to Malaya by Great Britain!<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">People use all kinds of justification to "establish the truth" about Indians being marginalized in Malaysia. In today's Malaysia and Singapore, all of us (who are products of the past immigrant Indians) do not accept the current immigrant Indians as equal. We call them "Ooris" or "Oorukaaran" or "Indian Indians" ... and we do not take them as equal to us. If their kids are given the same fees in school we fight to change the system. </span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkSzufVHKMUuPSUOGPg5PGUbNmr6AJw9I9ZoCiXdNxv-zYqm0Xh_tRYhU9dASBSne4mlQTMXo7cnUWp6LwpVpzPTmZFdQ0puSp2ThRExpjQ0IlsJ2T1A2L-D92Nh7KE8fRSzGCttwlgfhhgKGUjaayp4xLPZQaDc5osQBgb07FtPGyOBHGdHp-wxxI=s9170" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Malabar to Malaya book" border="0" data-original-height="6475" data-original-width="9170" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkSzufVHKMUuPSUOGPg5PGUbNmr6AJw9I9ZoCiXdNxv-zYqm0Xh_tRYhU9dASBSne4mlQTMXo7cnUWp6LwpVpzPTmZFdQ0puSp2ThRExpjQ0IlsJ2T1A2L-D92Nh7KE8fRSzGCttwlgfhhgKGUjaayp4xLPZQaDc5osQBgb07FtPGyOBHGdHp-wxxI=w640-h452" title="Malabar to Malaya, 3rd Edition" width="640" /></a></div><br />So in this context, why are we expecting Malays to go back to history ... analyse the origin of roti canai ... and give us an award that we are equal to them? Those are bygone histories of Chola, Srivijaya and Majapahit kingdoms. They lost some war somewhere along the lines and they are no longer here. We came because the British wanted "slaves" (who had no rights), supervisors (who were half English speaking Indians) and middlemen (who were recruiters) to manage their plantations, railways and roads. The British took land (in 100,000s acres) from the Malay rulers of the time. Just because we were British "slaves", helping Britain exploit the resources of the land and adding wealth to Queen Elizabeth's treasure trove it does not make us contributors of Malaysian economy. We were mere selfish beings enjoying the newfound opportunity to make a living. If our forefathers were anywhere near having a "good life"in their village in India, they would not have "fled" the country and landed here ... and soon became citizens.</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the time the Japanese landed on bicycles, the British fled! Notably the Japanese sank two British naval ships within days making the British abandon all their "slaves" and battalions of Indian soldiers. When the British came crawling back, the natives slowly rose to the occasion and wanted independence. By this time, we who helped the British change the whole landscape of the country and caused the Malays to lose their land in the name of plantations, wanted equal rights!! In what era is that a fair expectation?? Inadvertently, we also "helped" the British to push all Malay kampungs into the interior by developing vast lands around them.</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the entire process, by 1957 we were the "pitiful Indians" who were left with 888 active Tamil schools, 112,000 Hindu temples, 3 Tamil newspapers, 1 Radio Malaya Rangkaian Merah, 1 Minister, several MPs, 1 political party, many Gounder/Malayalee/Telegu sangams and numerous toddy shops. We were also given RM1 medical treatments and free schooling. Astonishingly, our Tamil schools with 104,600 enrollment by 1993 and was allocated government funding of RM27 million between 1990-1995 ... and we still could not "change" the fate of the remaining "pitiful Indians" of 1957!</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am unable to "connect" to the constant argument of trying to fight for equal rights when we have not utilised the given resources properly. If our teachers (in Tamil schools) wanted to genuinely uplift the lives of Indians, they had 100,000 students with them each year to do so. Was this not enough to make a change?</span><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: #fafafa; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87); font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.87)" style="background-color: #fafafa; font-variant-ligatures: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">We do have complete freedom to run our own business. And yes, just like any other country in the world, some benefits are reserved for the natives. </span></span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16412831270755748468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-35591915124719021082017-12-05T14:27:00.000+08:002017-11-26T00:41:57.235+08:00An important wedding<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On my way to an important wedding in Singapore ... I thought I will pen a meaningful wish to the groom whom I know for long and is an excellent "partner-in-crime"!!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #6fa8dc; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Here it goes ... </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I am writing this from Malindo lounge at KLIA2. Sitting here after missing my connection flight to Spore. The Mumbai flight delayed by 1 hr.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reflecting on my norms, this is by far the most complex logistics that I am dealing with to attend a wedding. I am a stubborn character by norm (as vouched by my uncles, aunties and relatives). I only attend events that I want to provided it is convenient. I have missed a host of weddings, parties and ceremonies. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">But this multi event of your wedding was too important to miss. The chemistry we share is valuable and your dad is one of the few with whom I can speak my mind without the fear of being judged. You are more like my friend than relative and I can be totally myself without any acting.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1vhHQl_bb8/WhmciEj3VxI/AAAAAAAAXJY/6qxtVzFD6PESoBa5x1O6Frs-nBnDymKiwCLcBGAs/s1600/DSC02987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1527" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1vhHQl_bb8/WhmciEj3VxI/AAAAAAAAXJY/6qxtVzFD6PESoBa5x1O6Frs-nBnDymKiwCLcBGAs/s400/DSC02987.JPG" width="381" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hopefully this chemistry stretches through the next generation. I was eagerly looking forward to the tea ceremony and church wedding but looks like I have missed it. But I am glad that my troops are there representing my presence. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is to wish you a blissful married life and many years of happiness. The only way out of conflicts is to walk through it and not around it. And the only words that count is usually "I am sorry" even if the mistake is hers!! But we are man, we hardly learn or remember anything!! </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">Trust I should get there in time for lunch. See you then."</span></span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0Kuala Lumpur International Airport 2, 43900, Selangor, Malaysia2.7439981 101.68522239999993-25.689834400000002 60.37662839999993 31.1778306 142.99381639999993tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-78451251025708935592017-11-24T14:23:00.003+08:002017-11-24T15:11:01.403+08:00My varied status in Dubai<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been walking the streets and tourist spots of Dubai since Nov 2014 when I officially became a Dubai "resident visa" holder. My stay here has been a mix of studio apartment, serviced apartment, hotel apartment and hotel rooms. I must say I enjoy less space rather than a sprawling apartment ... the brain has less to process in a hotel room as everything is taken care of by housekeeping.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realized that I am an expatriate, tourist and immigrant at different times. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Expatriate </b>- when I am in the Gold Class cabin of the Metro, having bfast at Costa Coffee and dinner at Uno Grill.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Tourist </b>- when I walk out of the hotel with my camera & water bottle, get excited about photography at the Burj Khalifa fountain and shop alone in Watson. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Immigrant </b>- when I underestimate the weight of the laundry and walk with 12 hangers with pants, shirt, T shirt and 2 bags of unlisted items. </span></span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0Trade Centre - Dubai - United Arab Emirates25.2223231 55.28394159999993525.1935921 55.243601099999935 25.2510541 55.324282099999934tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-16167920570130960242017-11-24T14:23:00.000+08:002017-11-24T15:11:45.304+08:00Trail of my North India business visit<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking back... left Dubai 2 weeks ago and landed in Gujerat (Bhuj) the home state of Narendra Modi, and the adventure began. Cows everywhere, camels in some villages and amazing how this town has resurrected after the major earthquake in 2001 that destroyed 400,000 homes and killed 20,000 people.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Passing the salt pans sent reminders of Gandhi's Salt March and the fact that salt is tax free till today ... had a quick lunch stop at Ahmedabad and soon landed in Jaipur the pink city with people wearing colourful winter costumes. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hospitality of Asheesh Srivastava continued on with our road trip to New Delhi where IAL India's most modern office awaited. By this time my appetite was growing restless with the continuous flow of yellow dhal, black dhal, chana, boondi raita, pineapple raita, mixed raita and the likes. Yearning for the Elevation Burger of Dubai!! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our next stop was Calcutta, the scene of jovial Bengali girls all dressed for their Saraswati Pooja holidays... and our local man Tapas says it is their version of lovers day!!! This town has a rustic charm and has appealed to me from my first visit long ago. Park Street is vibrant and always "alive" with crowd.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Going forward ... we have our next leg towards Bangalore then Kochi where the Budget Meeting of IAL is to convene and will take us through the numbers and charts for the next few days ... accompanied with Kerala food and Malayalee versions of Chinese food ... anything white is Hakka, red is Manchurian and always accompanied with bits of chilly floating in vinegar.</span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0New Delhi, Delhi, India28.6139391 77.20902120000005228.3907261 76.886297700000057 28.8371521 77.531744700000047tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-58694576288971419712017-11-24T14:21:00.003+08:002017-11-24T15:12:24.258+08:00God's own recipe in God's own country<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many parts of Kochi are "invaded" by the "talented" people of Orissa and Bengal. Perumbavoor, a once sleepy town south of Kochi is now the administrative capital of Orissa migrants. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are Orissa juice bars, restaurants, phone ships, barbers and mini markets. That is not exactly my complain of the hour as business globalisation is the new economic phenomenon. But what irks me is Orissa chefs cooking a storm in Kerala cuisine restaurants and serving us whatever they deem as "Gods own recipe" in God's own country.</span></span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-16184961170143459012017-11-24T14:19:00.000+08:002017-11-24T15:19:37.510+08:00Sea of Indians in Dubai<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Orchid Vue Hotel in Bur Dubai is my current location. Hotel is new, so rooms are clean and there are no leftover smell of cheese or chapati. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">But the crowd here is seriously Indian. By Indian, I mean the hardcore Indians who... </span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">stand at the buffet and start eating right there without going to their tables ... as if they are in a stand up comedy party</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">speak so loud that their relatives in India can hear ... </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">everyone speaks at the same time... </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the tiny lady in the group shrieks in her high pitch voice like a opera singer... and</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the crowd is completely undecided about their plans... they stand at lift discussing their "action plan" while blocking everyone else. </span></li>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am very much in India in this restaurant. Successfully got my coffee and sitting here watching the fun. Will have my breakfast after all the excitement completes.</span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0Bur Dubai - Dubai - United Arab Emirates25.2145565 55.30329059999996825.09965 55.14192909999997 25.329463 55.464652099999967tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-53495499459217142682017-11-24T13:34:00.003+08:002017-11-24T15:19:59.220+08:00My view on technology ... 1965 to 2017<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was born in a rubber plantation i.e. literally born in a rubber plantation house on my parents' bed and not in a hospital! And that is because my mom could not get a transport in time to get to the hospital which was 4.8 miles away. My grandma was the "nanny on duty" and I must thank her for having handled "my arrival" at 9.25pm on that Thursday in 1965.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given the starting point ... arriving in a "jungle" with no phone, no TV and no car ... we relied on the radio for most of our updates. Now, over time, my life changed from the "naturally unconnected world" to a fully connected world of Dubai that runs at high speed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many of my friends do say that "the good old days were great" and we talk a lot about our memories. I too have fond memories of my free flying childhood where my playground had no boundaries and every other kid was a friend. We had every plausible shortage ... food was short during month ends, clothing was limited, water does not flow daily on our taps, electricity was only for 12 hrs a night and the neighbour's chicken littered our veranda every day! But nevertheless, it was a beautiful world that I cannot forget. Nothing matches the spark of excitement that comes momentarily on pay day and on festivals ... that happy moments were unimaginably brilliant. Looking back, we were probably just chasing those spark moments and living our days then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that does not mean I want to go back to that world ... I fought hard to come out of it. It took lengthy efforts to get to a more "predictable world" where we had running water daily, electricity all day long, TV that works and the internet. So do I look back and say technology "spoilt" my life??</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When TV came to my house, I saw the other people of the world ... and knew that I am not alone in many situations</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the car came to my doorstep, I learnt the price of petrol. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I got the mobile in my hand, I learnt to stay in touch</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When computer came to my house, I connected to the universe</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the air conditioning came to my house, I understood the heat I had endured previously</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I stayed in the city, I valued the gardens</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By dealing with banks and cards, I became part of the economy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With the smell of perfume, I valued the essense inside fresh flowers. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With the coming of fast food, I valued my mom's cooking</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And lastly when I got on Facebook, I remembered to wish everyone on their birthdays!</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nice to see that I found the connected high speed world after all.</span>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-64352425054485817562016-08-20T12:38:00.001+08:002017-11-25T03:40:09.982+08:00My cup of coffee <div dir="ltr">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Had a long 2-leg travel from Kuala Lumpur to Mumbai on Malindo Air 1950hrs Friday and connecting Mumbai to Dubai on Jet Airways 0155hrs. Landed Dubai Terminal 1 at 0315hrs Saturday. Both flights were uneventful, smooth and had good sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you might notice that it's a crazy loop when direct KL Dubai flights are available. That's right!!! Sometimes these crazy routing happens due to my travel logistics. This time it was because my incoming trip was via Mumbai and doing the outgoing on a different airline was going to cost a whole lot more. So comes this combination. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course the immigration at Mumbai was puzzled trying to analyse what illegal business requires this kind of camouflaged travel! He still looked puzzled after my pathetic explanation about my route but stamped my passport anyway since I am a "Overseas Citizen of India" with a handful innocent business trips in and out of various Indian airports.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I had no time to waste as I had used up most of my 115 available transit minutes and I was on the last reserve of 18 minutes before the boarding closes!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Glad to have arrived Ibis One Central near World Trade Centre in Dubai. Checked in at 0430hrs. Unpacked my cargo load of stuff as this is going to be "home" for the next 4 weeks. Now having coffee watching the garden and having the long awaited break.</span></div>
ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-20234346916541498182016-08-20T12:22:00.001+08:002016-08-20T12:22:03.083+08:00Chattrapathi Shivaji International Airport, Mumbai... Malindo Air check in counter <p dir="ltr">First there is a sotta thalayan cutting the queue, rushing from the side and almost crashed the trolley onto the bum of another kannadi kaaran. Finally the airline staff got him back onto the line. He was just plain ignorant. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Then there is the middle aged cowboy with his elderly mom. Cowboy is a Indian guy with a huge tummy, spotting a bushy moustache like overgrown grass by the banks of Kaveri river, wearing a Dallas hat, with a white mobile phone tucked away in the back pocket of his faded jeans with a earphone wire going onto one ear like a FBI agent and wearing Nike!! In summary he looks like a clown out of a Amir Khan movie. And more so while he tries hard to take selfie while smiling broadly!! </p>
<p dir="ltr">The sotta thalayan now completed check in. Carefully packs his passport into a husky plastic bag, pushes it into the large front pocket of his brown bush jacket, puts on a black cap and is now loitering around the waiting area.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I have all this time because my ticket was booked using a Malaysian credit card and they need 30 mins to verify!! Another complicated Indian procedure to curb money laundering?? </p>
ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-53392059151310086022016-08-12T17:15:00.001+08:002016-08-12T17:15:15.132+08:00Sugoi Deira City Centre <p dir="ltr">Today I came to Sugoi at Deira for my lunch of teriyaki chicken and fried rice with miso soup... and my weekly people watching hobby.</p>
<p dir="ltr">There's a guy on the next table with a kid calling his mother in law and asking her to move her buts and get to the food court sometime today. His wife is sitting on another sofa table at a distance. They fought over the mother in law's punctuality?? </p>
<p dir="ltr">And there are 2 Filipino guys handling 2 very young kids. One kid walking on the table between the plates of noodle from the Fujiyama stall. And another trying to play Pokemon around the food court. Third behaving well. Now one of the guys are trying to make milk!!</p>
<p dir="ltr">Ah and the mother in law just arrived. Now the wife is missing!! She must have gone to Carrefour.</p>
ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-51625653694876037742016-08-06T15:45:00.001+08:002016-08-06T15:45:56.810+08:00Flight AI581<p dir="ltr">Today's eavesdropping on Air India flight AI581 from Mumbai to Kozhikodu. Mohan on seat 3A was excitedly speaking to his "buddy" on next seat about the freedom he enjoys in America. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Mohan is 73 yrs old. Went to USA in 1975 to complete his MBA in Ohio State University. And settled down there. He landed in Mumbai last night from New York via London while his baggage is still in transit somewhere!! </p>
<p dir="ltr">An aircraft engineer who used to work with Air India and has trained many pilots on aircraft mechanics. That's his glorious young days. </p>
<p dir="ltr">He was in St Petersburg, Russia last month. So now started reading about those who amassed wealth during the Soviet Union split. His story has slowly drifted to the Aryan invasion of India and how Andra Pradesh resisted the move south hence preserving the Dravidian culture in south! </p>
<p dir="ltr">His newfound buddy took some selfie after their vegetarian breakfast on flight. </p>
<p dir="ltr">As we landed in Kozhikodu and got on the bus at the tarmac, a lady of similar age started talking to him. Both were trying to figure out if they've met in Mumbai in the 70s!!! His old flame???</p>
ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-79569321894831261762016-06-24T15:06:00.001+08:002017-11-24T13:42:33.532+08:00Culinary curses<div dir="ltr">
Having my bfast at Ibis One Central. A lovely morning with no excitement and the mind wanders... capturing a sight ahead of me. <br />
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There's a fat guy in front of me going on and on and on with bfast. Now he finished some fruits and is looking up the sky ... just like what my dad does in supermarkets!! Buffet closing in 10 mins. My front target is scratching his neck and planning his next plate... but there's no space on his esophagus to fill any more dry or fresh food.<br />
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Oops I said it too soon. He sprang up from his chair like a toy teddy bear and came back with another plate of croissant and butter!! Now he is sitting with folded arms. Looking outside. Constantly shaking his right leg like the flywheel of an old diesel generator. Sipped the last few milliliters of coffee left in the cup. And wondering about the next meal. . or as usual with fat guys, he must be regretting the intake and planning on going for a walk.<br />
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I am sure he will find ice cream during the walk and God will show him that one ice cream shop that's open during Ramadan!!!</div>
ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-6943013823942478002016-06-06T11:12:00.001+08:002016-06-06T11:12:32.993+08:00Start of Ramadan in UAE <p dir="ltr">Today is the start of Ramadan 6 June 2016 and I woke up to the morning of silence outside the window. No pedestrian and no cars. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The Ibis World Trade Centre closes it's restaurants but breakfast for me was at the Novotel adjacent to the other entrance to World Trade Centre. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YrhOyic0fjk/V1TqIIxBTDI/AAAAAAAAWd4/4270qf0xXYg/s1600/1465182552871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YrhOyic0fjk/V1TqIIxBTDI/AAAAAAAAWd4/4270qf0xXYg/s640/1465182552871.jpg"> </a> </div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5450818554113690072.post-38192341817000167892016-06-04T19:14:00.001+08:002016-06-04T19:14:50.956+08:00Today's notes from Deira City Centre <p dir="ltr">Having my long awaited lunch of One Rack Rib with BBQ sauce. On the table across the aisle, there are 3 ladies and one of them is a really chubby Hawaii girl... and I mean really really chubby. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Her meal was 4 pcs of mini kids burger. Arrrgh you can imagine how little it looks in her hands. And she went on completing the assault on the burgers, stuffed some fries in her mouth and continued talking with the fries dangling to the music of her speech.</p>
<p dir="ltr">As she completed the mulching and gulping her drinks she started yawning!! And now she is sitting looking bored waiting for the others who are leaner in size to finish their meals at the usual 70kg human speed.</p>
<p dir="ltr">With a grrr look she has just ordered desert. I am losing my patience as I have finished my meal and I need to get to the theatre to catch the movie "Me before you" at 350pm. Seats are running out so I better run.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EExXELCqiz0/V1K4KboBxlI/AAAAAAAAWdk/U7tUIqFHa1E/s1600/1465038874131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EExXELCqiz0/V1K4KboBxlI/AAAAAAAAWdk/U7tUIqFHa1E/s640/1465038874131.jpg"> </a> </div>ravi311http://www.blogger.com/profile/16236277232268288185noreply@blogger.com0