A Bachelor's Party, Tequila, Tears and a Maruti Alto

I got married at the end of 2006. I was working with one of the Big 4 firms back then. I was told by my colleagues that I was getting married way too early... for a consultant. I knew that. 

Life was quite hectic in consulting. On most days, I would reach the office at 8:30 am and stay there until midnight. No matter what time I got home, I would spend a few hours drinking while watching TV or reading the newspaper. Ghosts of some failures and past relationships used to haunt me, and I would try to drown them in a bottle of whiskey. Back then, whiskey was my favorite poison. 

My parents were quite worried about me and they, along with my sister, decided to throw me down a pit by getting my marriage arranged. At that time, I did not know what was in store for me, as the devil had not revealed her fangs yet, so I was excited about the upcoming marriage and the change in my life.

I was (and still am) the quiet type and did not have too many friends in the office. When they came to know, a couple of friends/colleagues asked me to reconsider. But by then, sarfaroshi ke tamanna jaag chuki thhi (the desire for self-sacrifice had already awakened). 

Another colleague (everyone called him Chako) was getting married around the same time. I do not think anyone would have planned a bachelor's party for me, but since he had more friends and both of us were part of the same industry vertical, a joint bachelor's party was organized. We went to 'Liquids Pub' in Banjara Hills in Hyderabad. It was later renamed 'Liquids Club ETC' and has now permanently closed. The place was opposite Taj Banjara.

The entire industry vertical went to the pub. The plan was to get Chako and me drunk. A colleague, Swami, who was considered a relatively heavy drinker (that offended me), was given the responsibility of being my buddy and getting me drunk. 

We started with some tequila shots. People were cheering and encouraging us. Swami gave me company for the first few shots, but then he said he needed to slow down. And I wanted to accelerate!! 

One by one, I had 14 tequila shots. Then I had 4 other shots. Liquids used to have shots with some interesting and wild names, but I do not recall their names. I do recall the name of one of them but I cannot mention it here as it is not suitable for family audience. One of the shots required going to the bar counter, where the bartender set the drink on fire.

The drinks were not having any effect on me. The only effect I can think of is that I had entered a "zone" and was no longer hearing the conversations around me. 

After some time, I noticed that Swami was looking a little upset and was uttering something that was barely audible. He was staring at one of the Managers. Then he told me that he wanted to go to the washroom and asked me to accompany him. I agreed.

He was walking in front of me and at that moment, I realized that Swami was a little tipsy. We went to the washroom and I waited for him near the wash basins. Just as Swami was approaching the basins, the Manager entered the washroom. He had a serious look on his face and asked if everything was alright. I was clueless about the reason for the question.

Before I could answer, Swami shouted and charged at him! He grabbed the Manager. 

I was stunned and, for a moment, had no idea what was happening or how to react. When I finally realized what was going on, I grabbed Swami and pulled him away from the Manager. 

He was shouting, "How dare you say that?" 

The Manager was shocked and asked me what was wrong with Swami. I think it was a rhetorical question because I was absolutely clueless.

I pinned Swami to the wall and asked the Manager to leave. After the Manager left, I kept Swami pinned to the wall for some more time. Once his anger had evaporated, I asked him what had just happened. 

Swami told me that while we had been sitting in the pub and having fun, the Manager had commented that he should behave himself at office gatherings because this would reflect in his upcoming appraisal. At that time, I had actually been sitting between the Manager and Swami. Somehow, in my "zone" and happy state, I had not heard the exchange at all. I felt that the Manager's comment was completely uncalled for and unfair.

But before I could say anything to Swami to calm him down, he started crying. Not silent sobs. Full-on "boo hoo hoo".

Once again, I was stunned and for a moment, did not know how to react! 

Swami hugged me tightly and kept crying loudly. He started questioning what wass he doing with his life. He had wanted to join the Army and serve the country. Instead, he was doing work that felt meaningless. I could understand his pain because it resonated with me. I tried to comfort him.

Please note that this was the men's washroom of a popular pub on a Friday night. The pub was packed and everyone was drinking. Naturally, bladders needed emptying. But, for good 5-6 minutes, anybody entering the washroom witnessed two grown-up men hugging each other in the middle of the washroom and one of them was crying his heart out! It looked like a scene from the movie Dostana, though the movie had not even been released at the time. Swami did not care and did not even look at them. I, on the other hand, looked into the eyes of every person entering the washroom. Every single one looked at us, then looked at me, apologized, and quietly walked away. 

I did feel bad for Swami, but I also wanted to push him away.

A few colleagues heard about the attack on the Manager and came running into the washroom. Finally, Swami let go of me and all of us had a quick discussion in the washroom. Swami said that he wanted to leave, and everyone agreed that it was probably for the best. 

After Swami left and we came back to the pub, everyone asked me what had happened. I did not tell them much. I simply said that he was feeling unwell because he had one drink too many. Nobody bought that explanation, but I did not want to divulge anything further.

Though the shots had had no effect on me until then, I decided it was time to slow down. So for the rest of the evening, I had only six large pegs of Bacardi White Rum.

Someone suggested that we all should dance. People got up to dance. I also got up. Warning Signal #1. 

I realized that I was starting to lose control because I NEVER dance. The fact that I had even stood up made me think it was time to stop drinking. I sat down, said very little afterwards and skipped dinner (big mistake).

After dinner, everyone decided to call it a night. I slowly got up and we all walked to the elevators. At that moment, my mind started to fog up a little. The shots, the rum, the limited snacks, and the absence of dinner had started questioning me, and I had no answers. 

We came downstairs and I collected my car, my father's silver Maruti Alto, from the valet. 

I remember someone suggesting that he should drive my car. I am not comfortable letting anyone drive my car, but I agreed. Warning Signal #2. 

But by then, it was already too late.

I remember someone driving my car while I sat in the front passenger seat. We drove ahead on Banjara Hills Road and took a U-turn to go towards Hitech City. 

After that, trust me, I do not remember ANYTHING.

The next morning, I woke up in a large room. Though I was still not quite myself, I immediately knew it was not my room because it was neat and tidy. 

Thankfully, it was neither a hospital bed nor heaven.

I looked for my glasses and could not find them. Eventually, I spotted them on the floor in the farthest corner of the room. I have no idea how they ended up there.

I picked them up and sat on the bed for a few minutes, trying to compose myself and remember where I was and how I had landed there. Nothing. No clue at all. It felt like a scene from The Hangover, though even that movie had not released at the time.

I had an intolerable headache and felt extremely nauseated. Although I wanted to solve the mystery of my location first, I could not control myself any longer. 

I ran to the washroom and puked. For the first time.

Afterwards, I felt slightly better, but the headache became worse. I came out of the room to investigate. Outside was the dining area. In front was the kitchen. On the right was a small balcony. On the left was a living room. Next to the room I had slept in was another room with the door shut. Opposite that, beside the kitchen, was another room. Its door was shut as well.

I entered the first room and found someone sleeping on the bed, completely covered by a blanket from head to toe. I did not know what to do. So I went to the other room. It was locked from inside.

I went to the living room, hoping to find some clues, a photo frame or anything that could have solved the mystery. I did not find anything. But on the center table, I found the keys to my car. I thanked God. At least the car was there.

I went back to the room I was in, tidied myself, put on my footwear and prepared to leave. Before leaving, I entered the first room again and gently tapped the person sleeping there, who resembled a dead body covered by a hospital sheet. The person woke up. It was one of my colleagues. I had a hundred questions, but the poor fellow was still half asleep, so I simply told him I was leaving and walked out.

I still felt horrible and the headache was killing me.

In the parking lot, I found my car. I first went around it to check if was alright. No scratches, no dents. I was relieved. I started the car and drove out. Until then, I had no idea which apartment complex or locality I was in. When I exited the building, I realized I was not very far from home. 

On the way home, I stopped twice. To puke. Violently.

I somehow made it home. I had moved into that house only a couple of weeks earlier and did not know anyone in the building. I lived alone. By the time I reached home, I had no energy left and I immediately crashed on the bed. But for the next couple of hours, I kept getting up. To puke. On that day, I vomited 17 times. That must be some sort of horrible and disgusting world record!

By the end of it, I had no energy left. There was no food in the house. I could not even gather the strength to order anything. This was pre-Zomato and Swiggy so, there were limited options. And being new to the locality, I did not know the nearby restaurants either.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling fan for a day and a half. I could not get up. I did not answer calls. I was convinced that I was dying.

The next day, in the evening, I finally felt a little better. I found a restaurant menu that had come with the newspaper, ordered some food, took a shower, loaded up on carbs and sugar, and slowly recovered.

The next day, i.e., on Monday, when I reached the office, my colleagues told me what had happened when we reached the parking lot of their building late on Friday night. I was woken up and then I crawled out of the car. 

Then I hugged and did not let go. Not a person. The car! 

I did not want the poor thing to be left behind in the parking lot and wanted my colleagues to somehow 'carry it' to their flat. Their narration of the incident did not mention laughs and abuses but I am 100% certain that my behavior must have attracted both. 

After they managed to finally rescue the car from my bear hug, three of them dragged me to the flat and my body was dumped on the bed in one of the rooms. My footwear was removed, though I resisted. In my state, I was probably thinking that someone was mugging me for my shoes. During that struggle, I must have flung my glasses across the room.

This was embarrassing. 

Throughout the bachelor's party, I had thought that Swami was the one who had created a scene. Though he certainly deserved the gold medal, I had given him a strong fight and managed to secure the silver.

Thankfully, neither incident was discussed much in the office.

I did not touch alcohol for the next ten months. 

The Magnificent Seven Questions

Recently have written about cheating in couple of exams in my blog posts The Great ERP Exam Mystery and Cheating: Lessons from the Last Bench. To continue setting an example of a model student for my daughter and to instill the values of dedication, planning, and smart preparation, I’m sharing another memorable exam-related incident from my student days.

This happened in the year 2001. I was in B.Com (Honors) Final Year, and the final exams were about to start.

After being regularly irregular in attending classes, being 'intoxicated'...on studies and managing to score pretty average marks in the first two years, my friends and I wanted to score big in the final year and come out of college on a high. Our group consisted of myself and my friends Vikash, Tushar, Amar, Sushant, and Amit. 

Vikash and I had already cleared an extremely (not so) tough and competitive MBA entrance exam that we gave in a primary school in Kolkata. My large frame did not fit the benches meant for primary school kids, and only I know how I survived that exam. That story is for another time. So, Vikash and I needed to clear the final-year exam to start our MBA program. Vikash, the studious type, did not need any help. I, on the other hand, needed all the help in the world.

I prepared well for different subjects, which included Cost Accounting (CA), Management Accountancy (MAc), Tax Law & Accounting (TLA) and Business Studies & Management (BSM). While I was relatively confident about CA, MAc and BSM, TLA (we simply called it Income Tax) was my Achilles' heel. 

Tushar, Amar, Sushant, and I, along with another dear friend, Ajit, and a classmate, Ashutosh, had also taken group tuition from a well-known Professor of Income Tax, hoping that he would play a role in setting the final exam question paper or at least know about the questions and would 'help' us with some 'important' questions. 

Before the exams, Tushar, Amar, Sushant and I went to the Professor and asked him if he can point us to "some questions that we must practice". 😉

The Professor agreed, took out the course material, and started telling us which questions we should prepare. One by one, he told us 28 questions (!!!) that we must practice before the exam. 

We told him that if we were such hardworking students, we would not require his help at all, and asked him to narrow it down. He refused and shooed us away!

We were confused about what to do next. The exam was three days away. We discussed various options. The option of going home and practicing those 28 questions was laughed at and struck off swiftly. That was not an option for students like us. 

Suddenly, someone came up with a bright idea. It was pointed out that our professor is not the only reputed professor in the university. Every professor gave tuitions and, similar to our professor, other professors would also have suggested 'important' questions to their students. Since our Professor had given random questions from the book, it was unlikely that the other Professors would have given the same set of questions. 

So, all we had to do was to get the 'important' questions from the students of other professors and find the common ones!! 

This plan made sense to everyone and, like the hardworking students we were, we immediately put the plan into action. In a matter of few hours, we had the details from the tuition students of other key professors. 

We compared the list and we realized that there were seven questions that were common across all the lists. The question paper for the final exam would include five questions of 20 marks each, and we were confident that those five questions would be among the list of seven questions that we had narrowed down. 

We patted each other on the back and were happy with the teamwork and success. 

Someone asked what if we were wrong and the final five questions were entirely different. Everyone was taken aback for couple of seconds and then this doubt was also laughed at and ignored. 

What choice we had? We had no option but to completely trust our judgement.

(Be honest, at this stage, are you not thinking how our plan would fail?! 😀)

Then an actual issue was pointed out. A valid one. A big one.

We knew the seven questions, but we did not know the solutions! 

That is when we thought of the missing friend, Vikash Kumar Singh. It was agreed that we would go to him and get him to solve each question.

Since good students do not waste time, we went to Vikash's house immediately and found him wasting his time....he was studying for the Income Tax exam! Such a nerd!

We told him that he did not need to, as we could tell him seven questions, out of which five are 'guaranteed' to come in the exam. All he had to do in exchange was to solve those questions. He was his doubts and had hundreds of questions, but like in case of the seven questions, we had no answers. 

We politely asked him to shut up and get on to solving the questions. 

He solved all seven questions and handed the answers to us. We looked at his answers. It was akin to a pianist looking at an industrial machinery to see if everything was alright. We had no clue!

But we trusted him. Again, there was no other option.

One of us ran to the nearest photocopier and got copies made for each of us. We took a copy each and left with victorious smiles.

(If not earlier, are you not confident now that our plan is definitely bound to fail?! 😀)

In the next two days, we 'mugged up' all the questions and their solutions. In the history of the TLA (or Income Tax) exam, no one would have mugged up solutions! 

I practiced again and again. At the end of 2 days, I was so confident about the questions that I did not even need to read the entire question. If the question started with 'Ramesh works in a metro city...", I would start drawing lines and tables to compute Ramesh's income tax. The rest of the details were already known. Why waste time reading the questions at all? 

On the day of the exam, we reached our examination center. We laughed at the nervous looks on the faces of other students. We did not even wish each other the best of luck. What could have gone wrong? It was a foolproof plan!

(I am 100% sure that you are thinking (and hoping) that the 5 questions in the question paper were entirely different!!)

There were around 60 students in my examination hall, but no one from my group was there. It would have been fun to give high-fives (in the air) to my friends after looking at the question paper.

The exam started. The question papers were handed out. I only read the first sentence of each question. 

But after reading the first sentence of each of the five questions, I was SHOCKED! 

The five questions in the question paper were indeed part of the seven that we had narrowed down and prepared for!!! 

(You were not expecting that, were you??!!? 😀)

The two days of preparing for the seven questions had helped me develop muscle memory. I did not read the questions and simply went on to solving them. Like a well oiled machine, I solved all five questions. 

I still had time left but, like a good student, I do not like wasting time. I wanted to get out of the examination hall as quickly as possible, celebrate with 'win' with my friends and then go home to prepare for the last exam. 

When I reached the parking lot, I noticed that Tushar and Sushant were already sitting there. My slow writing had delayed me. But it did not matter, as it was not a race. 

We laughed and gave each other high-fives. 

Soon, Amar and Amit also came out. They were also welcomed with celebrations. We were laughing and were extremely proud of our examination strategy.

At last, Vikash came out of the building. He was running towards us with excitement. When he reached us, he complimented us for managing to get the seven questions and for the fact that four out of the five questions were identical to the ones on our list.

Wait....WHAT!!!

4 out of 5 questions were identical??

We looked at each other puzzled and said that he was wrong. All five questions were identical! 

He said the fifth question was almost identical too, but it had one extra detail that had to be factored into the tax computation. We did not believe him.

He showed us the extra detail. It was a very simple entry and even we would have managed to get it right.

Only if we had read the question. 

Except for Vikash, none of us had noticed it! The five of us had made the same mistake. 

The plan was brilliant. The execution was almost brilliant. The overconfidence cost us slightly.

Yet, despite the minor setback, it was a major victory! 🏆

Convicted by a Five-Year-Old

Today, my wife reminded me of an incident that happened in 2017 and requested that I write about it.

We had just returned from Malaysia after spending little over 5 years there. My daughter was five years old and had joined a school in Pune.

In Class 1, students learn basic English, Maths and Hindi, but they learn more about good habits, hygiene, body parts, family, social skills, soft skills, and good behaviour. I am sure her school was teaching her all those things. We used to ask her every day what she had learned in school, but she would not divulge much. She still does not!

One day, the three of us went to watch a movie. I do not recall the the movie, but I do remember that the movie hall was mostly empty and that we had corner seats in the top row. I also remember that my daughter was wearing a purple frock with bright flowers printed on it. As always, she looked extremely cute. 

Although we had bought tickets for our daughter, like most kids her age, she hardly sat in her seat. She climbed down and started walking around. Since she was not making any noise and there were not too many people around, we did not mind or stop her. 

During the interval, we got some snacks. The usual stuff. Popcorn, fries, soft drinks, and a chicken hotdog. It was brought in a snacks tray. We enjoyed the snacks and continued watching the movie. Since I was the only one eating popcorn, and popcorn lasts the longest, the tray eventually landed in my lap. I was sitting in the corner seat, with my wife next to me and our daughter standing beside her.

Once I finished the popcorn, I put the tray under my seat. 

While I was doing that, I noticed that my daughter was looking at me. I smiled at her and continued watching the movie. Although I stopped looking at her, I could tell from the corner of my eye that she was still staring at me.

Then she came over and stood in front of me. She looked sad and disappointed. I could tell that she wanted to say something. I immediately bent forward and gently put my arms around her. I brought my ear close to her face and waited for her to speak. 

And then she asked...

"Are you a bad human?"

I was taken aback but thought (and hoped) I had misheard her. So I asked again... only to hear the same brilliant question once more. Entirely my fault. 

She repeated, "Are you a bad human?"

I was stunned and looked towards my wife. She was busy with her fries and did not care what was going on around her. I told her about the question. Again, entirely my fault, as all I got in return were some wicked giggles.

I asked my daughter why she had asked me that. She did not answer. Then my wife asked her too. 

At that point, my daughter pointed towards the snack tray that I had put under my seat and said, "Teacher says that people who litter are bad humans."

The movie was no longer the most entertaining thing in the theatre for my wife. She was laughing like the evil and crazy woman she actually is.

Since when is putting a snack tray under the seat considered littering? 😡

But there was no point arguing with this three-foot-tall little ball of cuteness.

And now, nine years later, someone should see her room. The mess that she creates. A city completely devastated by earthquake looks more organized and neat compared to her room. All that learning, which was slightly flawed in any case, was only for me???

But the question still haunts me. And I can never forget her expression. She was genuinely disappointed to discover that her father was a "bad human!!" 

Made in India – A Titan Story: A Must 'Watch'

Last weekend, I finally watched 'Made in India - A Titan Story'. This was due for a couple of weeks. Some friends and family members had already watched it and had great things to say about it. Yet, I was avoiding it.

The reason for avoiding the show had nothing to do with the subject, story or actors. It was the OTT platform: Amazon MX Player. The last time I started watching a show on the platform, I had to quit midway because of the number and frequency of ad breaks. Hence, I was apprehensive and felt that the platform would kill the excitement of watching a story that I truly wanted to watch.

The choice of OTT platform was also strange. High-profile shows are usually placed on Amazon Prime Video. My understanding, which could very well be flawed, is that shows that are unlikely to generate significant interest and traffic are 'demoted' to MX Player so that they can also be monetized through commercials.

But I wanted to watch the story. Titan is my favourite watch brand and, over the years, I have bought and worn several of its watches. I still have a couple of them in my collection, but unfortunately, these days I am required to wear smartwatches in order to monitor my SpO₂ levels, especially the sleep oxygen levels. I have always loved the elegance of Titan watches. I also appreciate the breadth of the range. There is truly something for everyone.

There was another reason why I wanted to watch the Titan story. A brother-in-law of mine has been associated with the brand for over 20 years and is part of its leadership team. Though I have had limited interactions with him on the subject, I have always been impressed by his knowledge of the watch industry and his genuine interest in understanding customers' perspectives regarding what is working and what is not with Titan watches.

So, my own interest in the brand and this personal connection compelled me to overcome the issue I had with MX Player. We started watching the six-episode series on Saturday evening... and we finished it in one go!

Before saying anything about the show, since I have shat on MX Player, let me clarify that there were no frequent ad breaks during the show. Thankfully, there were only ad banners that emerged from the bottom of the screen and then vanished. They were not irritating at all and we barely noticed them.

Now, to the show.

It's a masterpiece, and you must do yourself a favour and watch it.

The story is inspiring and full of great lessons on leadership, perseverance, overcoming setbacks, putting skin in the game, managing individuals and teams, subordinating emotions and making the right calls, stepping back or aside at the right moment for junior colleagues to demonstrate their capabilities and to let them shine, guiding the team but letting them be independent and take ownership. And achieving the goals. The story has all that but not in a preachy, textbook-lesson kind of way.

It is not that the show is only about business learnings and devoid of emotions or sensitivity. There are conflicts and complexities due to the differing approaches, preferences, and emotions of the characters. The story is fast-paced and never feels like a drag. There is hardly any extra fat, and every scene serves a purpose.

The cast and acting are brilliant.

Jim Sarbh is outstanding. His character 'demonstrates' passion while remaining composed and in control. He makes decisions that are sometimes questionable, but more often than not, he gets them right. He is willing to take calculated risks. Personally, I am more like Akash Bansal, the character played by Vaibhav Tatwawadi, as I tend to be more conservative in my approach. However, I do understand and appreciate that businesses need people who are willing to take calculated risks and constantly push the envelope. Hence, I particularly liked the character of Xerxes Desai, played by Jim Sarbh.

I have always been impressed by Jim Sarbh's acting and he is indeed 'one of the brightest Titans' of the Indian entertainment industry.

Strangely, some people are saying that Naseeruddin Shah has played a role in the series. I did not notice him. I only saw JRD Tata, who happened to look a bit like Naseeruddin Shah.

The other actors, including Paresh Ganatra, Joy Sengupta, Kaveri Seth, Lakshvir Saran, and Viraf Patel, have also done a commendable job and look believable.

Another aspect that I really liked about the show is that it is suitable to watch with family. These days, when most shows are full of obscenities (honestly, I do watch them too, but I do look for shows that I can watch with my daughter and elders), this is a clean show. In fact, I think there is only one scene in which foul language is used.

One confession: I was overwhelmed and in tears when the legendary and iconic Titan music played in the show. Pure nostalgia!

And I loved the background music. Old Hindi film songs have been used brilliantly to create the atmosphere of the 1970s and 1980s. Bombay looks beautiful in the show, presenting a stark contrast to the maddening pace, traffic, concrete structures, and crowds that define the city today.

Some people, especially those who are inclined to look for hidden motives behind everything, may argue that the show is, in a discreet manner, a branding campaign for the Tata Group and Titan. They may point to how the show hints that the focus was more 'nationalistic' than profit-driven. I personally did not watch the show through that lens at all.

A business has no business focusing on the greater good while ignoring returns on investment and profits. But if there is one business group in India that I can imagine will even try to strike the right balance between profits and India's image and interests, it is the Tata Group.

I have that reputation of the Tata Group in my mind because of how the group responded after the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks. At a time when many businesses would have been focused on the extent of losses, Tata's response appeared to be driven first by people and principles. The group stood firmly behind the families of employees who lost their lives, extended support beyond its own workforce, and restored the Taj not merely as a hotel, but as a symbol of India's resilience. Even during the attack, several employees could have run away as they knew the exits, but they chose to stay back to guide and save the guests. Many of them sacrificed themselves to save the guests. Actions such as these are what have earned the group a level of goodwill and trust that very few corporate houses in India enjoy.

Not putting them on a pedestal at all. Every individual and every organization has its flaws and contradictions.

It is a bit like the case of legendary Australian wicketkeeper-batsman Adam Gilchrist. He earned immense respect because he would walk when he knew he was out, without waiting for the umpire's decision. However, at the same time, he did appeal for a catch even when he knew that a batsman had not nicked the ball. So, nobody is perfectly virtuous all the time. Yet, on balance, Gilchrist is probably regarded as more honest than most cricketers. The Tata Group enjoys a somewhat similar reputation. It has its set of controversies but is generally respected.

Whether the series consciously attempts to suggest that the ambition to create a world-class watch brand out of India was inspired by a larger sense of national purpose, rather than purely commercial objectives, is something each viewer can judge for themselves. I watched it simply as the story of a brand, the people behind it, and the challenges they overcame while building it.

I strongly recommend that you watch the show for the entertainment and for the inspiring story of one of India's biggest and most successful consumer brands. You will not be disappointed!

Give it a 'watch'. A story that keeps 'ticking'. Worth your 'time'.😜

The Great ERP Exam Mystery

During MBA, while I do not recall the semester, but at some point we had a course on Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP). If I am not mistaken, there were two course on ERP: "Enterprise Resource Planning I" and "Enterprise Resource Planning II". I think they were divided across two semesters. I had zero clue why we had to study ERP. Twenty-three years later, I still don't.

I was not the only one clueless about the course. In fact, the majority of the batch was equally clueless, and that prompted a special arrangement for the exam. It was turned into an 'open book' exam. Each of us was supposed to sit in front of computers, search for the right answers in the ERP library, and write them down on the answer sheet. 

That sounds simple and easy but, trust me, it was not. If I did not understand the questions, what chance did I have of finding the right answers?

A logistical issue came to my rescue. 

Since there were more students than the number of computers in the IT Lab, we were divided into groups. I think each group was assigned a different examination slot. Yet, it would still have taken a lot of time because ours was a big batch. So, to optimize further, it was decided that students in each group would be divided into pairs, with each pair having access to one computer. That meant that I would not die alone on the battlefield! 

I do not recall how the pairs were decided, but I got paired with Abhishek Mehta, one of the brightest students in our MBA batch. So, that meant I had the all-important responsibility of allowing Mehta to find the answers, confirm them with him, and then write them down on my answer sheet. But I was up for the challenge!

Next to us, my friends Vikas Khaitan and Pooja Wadhera were sitting. I had somehow done well in ERP I, and Khaitan had challenged me that he would outscore me in ERP II.

I was not nervous. I was confident....in Mehta's ability to find the answers. 

However, during the exam, Mehta kept getting confused. He would find something, sound confident, and just before we wrote it down, he would start having second thoughts. This went on for a while. Long enough for me to lose all confidence and start shitting bricks.

This did not go unnoticed by my dear friends sitting at the next computer. While I was busy controlling my heart attack, Khaitan and Pooja were giggling like schoolgirls. Every now and then, they would intentionally shout, "Mil gaya!" to announce that they have found another answer. Khaitan kept telling me that I would flunk! 

It was textbook sledging. The Australians would have been proud.

By the time they had filled 5-6 pages of the answer sheet, I had barely finished a single page! Apart from answers, their sheet was full of colorful diagrams and illustrations. In contrast, my sheet was mostly plain white. 

With only 60 minutes left, I decided to twist and break the neck of my pride and beg to them to share the answers. They laughed and said no. I continued to beg. 

With surgical precision, Khaitan waited until the moment when I had enough time to copy the answers but not enough time to copy the diagrams. And at that moment, he agreed to share the answers. 

I was absolutely fine with that. I was no longer looking to pass with distinction. I just wanted to pass.

I am a slow writer, but I tried to copy everything within the given time. In the end, I was relieved that I had written enough to ensure that I would probably not fail.

Two people were ecstatic. Pooja and, especially, Khaitan were celebrating in the parking lot. He was dancing and teasing me, saying that they would score more than me because of the diagrams and illustrations. Khaitan celebrated as if he had just won the ERP II equivalent of the World Cup.

I smiled and let it go. I was thankful.  

Few days later, the results were out. 

Khaitan and Pooja, who had identical answer sheets, scored around 60 out of 100. They were happy. But happiness is a relative term. 

They checked my score. I had got more than 80!

It was our Raju, Farhan and Rancho exam-results moment from 3 Idiots!

Khaitan was shocked. Pooja was surprised but was okay. I was surprised too...but pleasantly. 

It was, however, my duty, like a good friend, to tease them. I told them that maybe they had not understood the diagrams and had put the wrong ones in their answer sheets. Or maybe the examiner was offended by their gaudy artwork. Or maybe the examiner had gone by the overall impression of the students.

Khaitan blamed it on my good handwriting. 

To this day, I have no idea why I scored more than them. Maybe it was indeed my handwriting. Maybe the examiner appreciated minimalist answer sheets. Whatever the reason, it brought a smile then and still brings one now. 🙂 

"He Surely Does Not Drink"

I do not recall when this incident happened but it was easily at least 20 years ago. 

My parents were travelling by train. They had tickets in AC First Class. My father, back then a serving army officer, used to carry a bottle or two of alcohol on most of his trips so he could have a drink with friends or family at the destination.

On the same train, a cousin of mine and his wife (my Bhabhi) were also travelling. They were in a different class and compartment. However, when my cousin found out that my father - his maternal uncle or Mama - was travelling on the same train, he became excited because he knew that my father was likely to have something 'interesting' in his luggage.

AC First Class in Indian trains is comfortable and does not have too many passengers. It has either a cabin, which is a larger four-berth compartment designed for families or small groups, or a coupe, which is a private two-berth compartment for solo travelers or couples/duos. Once the journey started, my parents settled into their cabin.

After some time, my cousin and Bhabhi came over. The four of them started chatting. I am not sure if there were any other people in the cabin. 

After a while, my father offered him a drink. My father usually did not drink on trains because it is illegal and can make other passengers uncomfortable. The fact that he offered a drink makes me think there was probably no one else in the cabin. I could be wrong though.

After a few drinks, my cousin became a little high and started opening up about everyone in the family. The conversation drifted towards who among the younger generation drank. Most of the cousins were adults by then, and my father knew that everyone must be drinking. Still, it was not yet 'publicly  known information'. 

More than anyone else, my father wanted to know about me. 

One by one, my father started asking about everyone, and my cousin, in a 'happy state by now', was more than willing to answer. He told my father who drank what, how much each person drank, what each one did when drunk, funny anecdotes... every secret was coming out.

My father encouraged him, enjoyed the details, and laughed at the incidents. He asked about everyone except me.

Then, towards the end, my father made a statement.

"Vini nahi peeta hoga". (Vini surely does not drink). 

*Vini is my nickname. 

My father did not question. He just made a statement and showed pride. I do not think he actually believed it. It was a ploy to bring out an honest reaction.

My cousin, a few years older than me and generally a mature guy, saw the trap and said, "Yes, you are right. Vini does not drink." 

I wish!

So what did he do?

My cousin laughed mockingly at my father's statement and said:

"Vini nahi peeta hoga!!!??? Vini tanker hai...TANKER!!!" (Vini does not drink!!!??? He is a TANKER!!!)

* In slang, the term "tanker" refers to a heavy drinker or an alcoholic.

The next time I spoke to my father, he asked, 'Suney tum TANKER ho" (Heard that you are a tanker). I was taken aback!

Later my mother narrated the entire incident and I came to know how my cousin broke the bro code! 😠😡

Friends Need Counseling Too

अलसस्य कुतो विद्या, अविद्यस्य कुतः धनम्।

अधनस्य कुतो मित्रम्, अमित्रस्य कुतः सुखम्॥

Learnt the above verse or saying in school. It means 'How can a lazy person acquire knowledge? And without knowledge, how can there be wealth? Without wealth, how can one have friends? And without friends, where is happiness? While I agree with it entirely, the part that I especially agree with is 'अमित्रस्य कुतः सुखम्' i.e., without friends, where is happiness?

I have always believed that male friendship is one of the most special relationships in the world. One of the purest. There is no ceremony that marks its beginning and no institution that holds it together. Two people simply choose each other. There is no clearly defined role to perform, less expectations, less questions. 

However, I wonder why we have marriage counseling but nothing similar for friendships. Maybe it is because male friendships are simple and seldom require an intervention. And perhaps, compared to other relationships, they do have less friction. But friendships can enter rough waters too. People misunderstand each other, say mean things, grow apart, stop talking over silly things, and quietly carry the pain. 

I am not sure if 'Friendship Counseling' or 'Friendship Therapy' is actually the answer. Or if there is a need and market for that. It is just that some relationships are truly worth saving and people should have tools to navigate through tricky roads. Just a random thought.

Our Customized Bubu-Dudu

Accountability, Yes. Scapegoating, No.

Like many others, I believe the NEET-UG paper leak is a serious failure. The government deserves criticism. Dharmendra Pradhan, the Education Minister of India, must be questioned. He cannot shrug the responsibility and I do not think he is.

But is it fair to single him out?

Yesterday, I was talking to my friend - Kumar G Das - and he made some interesting points and arguments. He asked, 

"Where does the issue stem from?"

The answer seemed obvious. It is because of weak systems. Poor oversight. Failure of governance. However, he pointed that a paper leak exists because there is both demand and supply.

Much of the public debate focuses on the supply side - those who exploited loopholes, leaked papers, facilitated cheating, or profited from the scam. The culprits must be identified, investigated and punished. If there is involvement of coaching centres, faculty members, middlemen, officials, they must not be spared and should face the strictest consequences.

But what about the demand side?

Who is buying leaked papers? Willing to pay lakhs for an unfair advantage? Who is encouraging a culture where success matters more than integrity? The uncomfortable truth is that some parents and students are active participants in this ecosystem. Without buyers, there would be no market for leaked papers. Without demand, in most cases, there is no supply.

I completely agree. His arguments made me think. No one is discussing and questioning the demand side! 

At the same time and as mentioned earlier, it does not absolve the government. It is the responsibility of the government to build robust enough systems to prevent these things from happening. When an examination of this scale is compromised, the ministry cannot simply say that a few bad actors are responsible and move on.

But is accountability the same thing as resignation?

I do not think so.

If the Minister resigns or government takes any action due to the protest by a satirical online movement like CJP, a trending social media campaign, a group of Gen Z activists and some 'habitual and chronic protestors', we risk creating the wrong precedent. We know there are forces that mobilize and fund such groups. We have seen similar protest movements in Nepal and Bangladesh. The objective of these forces, in many cases, is to destabilize governments and ultimately gain influence or control.

Governments should act based on facts, investigations, evidence, and institutional processes, not on who can generate the loudest outrage online. If every institutional failure automatically demands the resignation of the person at the top, there will be no end to insane demands? It would open a hornet's nest.

If a major banking fraud happens despite multiple layers of regulation, should the RBI Governor resign? If there is a border infiltration, should the Army Chief resign? If a cricket match is abandoned due to a dangerous or unplayable pitch, should the BCCI President resign? If a stock market manipulation scam comes to light, should the SEBI Chairperson resign?

Leadership carries responsibility, but responsibility is not the same as sole culpability. Online or offline outrage cannot be a substitute for institutional processes. Public pressure is important in a democracy, but governance cannot be reduced to reacting to the loudest voices on social media or at Jantar Mantar (Kaikey in Ramayana had Kop Bhavan and modern day habitual protestors have Jantar Mantar!).

The objective should be justice, not symbolism.

Identify every individual involved in the leak. Punish corrupt officials. Shut down coaching centres found guilty. Debar students who knowingly participated. Hold parents accountable where evidence exists. Strengthen examination security. Fix the loopholes and the system. Increase transparency.

This MUST not happen again! 

Dharmendra Pradhan is being questioned, and rightly so. He should be questioned. He should be held accountable. But if our entire response begins and ends with demanding one man's resignation, we may satisfy our anger without solving the problem.

The Message That Made Me Proud

Yesterday, it rained heavily in Hyderabad. While rain brings joy after a prolonged period of scorching heat and summer, it also brings a problem: waterlogging and flooding in several areas. With unplanned development and little regard for proper drainage, many Indian cities are facing this issue.

The situation was particularly bad in the area where I live. Due to the sudden rain, the basement parking in my apartment was completely flooded. I had just left the office when I received a message from the building secretary asking residents not to park in the basement and to plan for other options.

I went to a restaurant and waited there for a couple of hours, hoping that the situation would improve. Then the secretary sent a picture of the basement, and it became clear that there was no way anyone would be able to park there for at least a day. I went back to the office, parked my vehicle there, and came home in a cab.

I had left the office at 6:15 PM, before the secretary's first message, and eventually reached home at 9:45 PM, only to find that the lift was not working. So I had to climb five flights of stairs, which, as one can imagine, was not an issue at all given my prime, pro-athlete-level fitness!

I was thinking...such a bad day!

Then my wife told me about the caretaker of the building. He handles various tasks in the building and also cleans by car everyday. He and his family live in a small room in the basement. He had shared some pictures of the damage caused by the water near his room. He told my wife that the TV and refrigerator had been damaged and that water had entered the room. I saw a picture in which he was standing in water near his room, and the water level was above his knees.

And I was thinking I had a bad day!

I did not know the full extent of the damage, and I will be honest, I did not think about it too much at the time. Maybe I was too tired, but looking back, I should have tried to find out more.

Today at the office, I saw more pictures and videos. This time they were of his room itself. The bed, refrigerator, TV, kitchen, wardrobe, clothes, the entire household had been severely impacted by the flooding. The family had tried to save what they could. The refrigerator was placed on the bed, and other household items were stacked above it. I also learned that the family had to move into a conference room on the ground floor and sleep there without beds or mattresses. 

When I reached home, my wife told me something that happened today. My daughter reaches home from school before us. When she gets home, she usually calls my wife or sends a message to let her know she has arrived safely and if there is anything else we should know. Today, however, she wrote that she had seen the caretaker and that he was probably crying. She asked my wife if we could do something for him.

When I learned about this exchange between my wife and daughter, I must admit I felt happy and genuinely proud. I am proud that she has empathy. She feels the pain of others.

She may not feel bad for her mother when she causes agony by keeping a messy room, but I am glad that she feels the pain of others when their home and belongings are turned upside down. That is far more important.

We may be raising a slob, but at least she's a slob with a good heart!

(Update: We helped the caretaker with a small financial contribution, and we plan to speak with the building secretary about the possibility of residents pooling funds to support the family) 

The Movie Ticket That Started a Friendship

I have a dear friend and his name is Amit. If I am Amitabh of Sholay, he is Dharmendra. If I am Amitabh of Dostana, he is Shatrughan Sinha. If I am Amitabh of Yaarana, he is Amjad Khan. If I am Amitabh of Agneepath, he is Mithun. So, we are very close. And since he claims to be the biggest fan of Amitabh Bachchan, he would "love" all these examples!

Amit and I have known each other since 1997. We were in the same class, B.Com (Honours) Evening Batch, at St. Xavier's College, Ranchi. Later, we were in the same MBA batch, and we were flatmates in Hyderabad and later Bengaluru (Bangalore back then).

We did not become friends immediately. He was the studious type and had a different group of friends. I was in a different group of "extra-studious" students. We knew of each other's existence but never spoke to each other during the first two years of B.Com.

So, how did we meet and start talking?

I have always been fond of Hollywood movies. For Hollywood movie fans, Ranchi was not the best place to be. It was the late 1990s, and the only Hollywood movies that played in regular shows were Hindi-dubbed versions of popular films like Jurassic Park, Men in Black, The Mummy, Godzilla, and The Matrix. I hated watching dubbed movies, so the only option was a theatre called Sujata Cinema in Ranchi, which used to play English movies in the morning show. These shows would run early in the morning, around 7:30 or 8:00 AM.

I watched many movies alone because it was difficult to get my "extra-studious" friends to agree to an English movie, especially one playing so early in the morning.

It was on one such morning that I first spoke to Amit while standing in the queue to buy a ticket.

In Ranchi, before the booking counter opened, everyone would stand properly in a queue. But as soon as the counter opened, it became chaotic. People would jump over each other and try to shove their hands through the booking window. The mayhem had not started yet, and I was standing in the queue, probably sixth or seventh from the counter. Behind me, the queue had grown significantly, and there were around fifteen people waiting.

This is when I saw Amit standing with one of his friends. He looked unsure about the situation and how he would get tickets. He saw me and recognised me. Then he said something to his friend and approached me.

He started with general chit-chat. How was I? What was I planning to do after graduation? He told me that he was planning to pursue an MBA and had joined an MBA entrance coaching class that had a good success rate. Then he came to the point and asked if I could buy tickets for him and his friend as well.

I expected this.

I do not recall the ticket price, but I think it was Rs. 10 per ticket. I had a Rs. 50 note. There was some reason, I think he did not have change, and he suggested that I pay for all three tickets and they would reimburse me after I secured them. I agreed.

Not long afterwards, the ticket counter opened and, as expected, pulled the entire queue like a giant industrial magnet. I reached the counter. A few minutes later, I went back to Amit and his friend, both of whom were looking at me with hope and anticipation, and told them that I had not managed to get the tickets.

They were disappointed and shocked because I was by far the biggest guy in the queue. But they said it was okay and accepted their fate.

None of us watched the movie.

I came back home. Later, I told my father that I wanted to join a computer class and an MBA coaching class. I mentioned the coaching class Amit had told me about, and soon I took admission there. Amit and I were in the same batch, and we became friends.

Years later, Amit told me about that day at the movie hall. He and his friend had discussed how a big guy like me had failed to secure the tickets. His friend laughed at me. Even now, at many gatherings, Amit talks about the incident and everyone has a hearty laugh. I am okay with that.

But there is something he does not know... even today.

My version.

After Amit asked me to buy tickets for him and his friend and said they would pay me afterwards, I became worried.

I used to get a pocket allowance of Rs. 200 per month, and I had to manage movies, outings with friends, drinking sessions... I mean extra-curricular activities, group study sessions, and also a long-distance relationship with the same money.

Sometimes, I made a little extra money by telling my mother that I had spent more on fuel than I actually had, but that source was limited.

So, the Rs. 50 I had that day was all the money I had until the next allowance arrived.

Yes, Amit had said that they would pay me after I got the tickets. But what if they did not? I barely knew him. He always came across as a sincere guy, but his friend did not. What if they later made an excuse and said he would pay me in college?

That money was precious.

I am not the type who feels comfortable going out with friends when I do not have money. At the same time, I did not want to miss out on going out with them. So, all my life, I have been conscious about money and disciplined with my expenses. That is why, I have very few friends.

Amit is also like that, something I realized later when we became flatmates during our MBA.

Nevertheless, on that day, I had reached the ticket counter and I could have easily bought the tickets. However, since I was not sure whether Amit would repay me immediately, I...intentionally...did not buy the tickets! 

I should have.  

Anyways....so...that is how we met.

One incident. Two different versions.

That day, I did not get to watch the movie, but I managed to find a great friend!!

At the Mercy of a Six-Year-Old

My wife suggested that I write this blog, which is about an episode that happened in late 2017. She had to leave for our hometown due to a family medical emergency and she left our daughter - Ananya - in my care. Or, to be more accurate, she left me at the mercy of our six-year-old daughter!

I prepared a list of tasks that I am supposed to do during my wife's absence. I had to ensure that Ananya got up on time, get her ready for school, take care of her breakfast and tiffin, drop her at the bus stop, pick her up in the evening, help her with her homework and studies, wash her clothes (not at the dhobi ghat; in the washing machine), manage dinner and ensure that she slept on time. In addition, I had to manage my meals and my regular office work. 

The list made me dizzy. I realized that my wife actually did some work and didn't just watch TV and chit-chat on the phone!

Like a true consultant, I divided the list into three categories - 'Must Do', 'Good To Do' and 'There Is No Way I Can Do That'. After categorizing the tasks, as the newly appointed leader of the house, I made three executive decisions.

First, I called the office and informed them that I would be working from home for the next few days. They agreed.

Second, I informed the teachers that Ananya would not be able to complete her homework assignments for the next few days. They agreed. I even told my wife that studies would remain optional. (As if they had been mandatory till then or since then.) She agreed.

Lastly, I made a distress call to my sister (who lived in the same city) for help. My place was around 25 km away from both her house and office, but she thankfully agreed to stay with us and commute daily.

The dizziness went away. 

Now, my sister was in charge of meals. I had to wake Ananya up, get her ready, drop her at the bus stop, pick her up in the afternoon and put her to bed at night. 

Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeezy!! 🍋

Now, I had my sister to help me. What could possibly go wrong? 

But the little devil had other plans.

From the moment my wife stepped out of the house, my daughter knew who was in charge. She knew that her father (and to a large extent, even her Bua (Aunt)) was clueless about most things, and she exploited that knowledge with remarkable efficiency.

She would get up when she wanted. She would take her own sweet time getting ready, while her helpless father panicked and kept looking at the watch anxiously. She would tell us that she was allowed to go to school with untied hair. She would tell us that she was allowed to wear coloured socks instead of the socks that were part of her uniform. She would stroll to the bus stop with the grace of a queen, while I carried her bag and water bottle like her coolie and panted for breath.

My sister once got up early to make noodles for her for tiffin, but Ananya told us that her teacher scolded students for bringing "unhealthy" food to school. She insisted on getting a meal coupon that she could use in the school cafeteria. We had a few coupons in our emergency stash, so I gave her one.

Upon returning, she told us that she had eaten pasta. 

So much for a healthy meal! 

The next day, my sister made chapati and bhindi (Okra), but some other excuse was given and another meal coupon was extorted.

Tying her hair was a big challenge. I had never done it. My sister never had long hair, so even she was not particularly good at it. Also, I think tying your own hair is much simpler than tying someone else's hair. And if that someone is a restless little monster, it is even more difficult. 

I remember that on one of the days, my sister tied Ananya's hair multiple times, and each time the outcome was rubbished by her client. Tired and anxious, my sister made one final attempt and asked me for my opinion. 

Both of them looked at me with hope. 

Ananya hoped that I would say it was very bad. My sister - helplessness written all over her face - hoped that I would approve it. 

I approved it, though it was her worst attempt of the day! 

My mother used to roll/twist her dupattas to store them, and honestly, Ananya's hair looked like a dupatta rolled way too many times! 

That day, her teacher asked Ananya who had tied her hair, and Ananya promptly replied, "My aunt. She does not know how to tie hair." 

Her teacher tied her hair again.

During the entire period my wife was away, our lives looked like scenes from the movie The Devil Wears Prada. Ananya was like a little Miranda Priestly, and my sister and I were like the two hapless personal assistants. Every day, after dropping her at the bus stop, both me and my sister used to feel that we have won a battle. Every day, after tying Ananya's hair and receiving a reluctant, disappointed approval, my sister would fall flat on the bed, relieved to have survived the ordeal.

Thankfully, my wife returned within a week, but not before Ananya decided to fall really sick on the penultimate day...just to make us look even worse!