Clueless has moved!

This blog has now moved to http://cluelessredux.wordpress.com/

Where evolution stalled

Human beings. We have such a proud record to look back on. At some point way back we were able to figure out that sloshing around in the water had only so much utility and land was the way to go. Having done that, it didn't take us too much to realise that the real action as probably a little higher than a few inches off the ground. So we grew appendages to crawl around. Over time we were able to trot around on all fours and pick stuff bushes and catch the odd slower co-inhabitant. But to do any real foraging, we needed to be using more than our mouths, so we decided to "stand up". Opposable thumbs were the icing on the cake about the same time that we shed all that unnecessary hair to save on shampoo and conditioning costs. Fire, the wheel, language...all the good stuff followed.

Somewhere though, we got sloppy. How else do we explain those unnecessary, problematic hard bits called wisdom teeth? It took a lingering ache over several weeks to get me to get an x-ray and an outcome that made me wonder if it was a spoof of some sort to go to that place. There might be people who treat visits to dentists as nonchalantly as James Bond dodges bullets and beds the girl. I'm not one of them. I consider going to the dentist like purposefully placing my foot on a bar of soap in the bathroom. While it's not necessary that you will hit your head on the basin and lapse into a coma, the best you can hope for is a bruised posterior. Having your sibling (and butt of most of your jokes) of 26 years peering over you in a white coat and gloves with metallic instruments doesn't do much to calm your nerves.

Multiple pain-killing injections, lots of pulling, swearing and tugging on the part of the two assailants (dentists) and after the best part of two hours, the offending tooth was shown to me in pieces, much like shrapnel from a war wound. The tooth, aside from growing at a right angle to the others was also rotated apparently, hence all the tugging and swearing. The rest of the weekend was spent holding ice packs to the side of the face that kept ing to puff up by tennis ball proportions. The only upside was the prescribed diet (aside from painkillers); "any ice-cream without nuts".

Beat it!

It's inexplicable. Maybe it's the three hours I just spent winding through clogged streets of Mumbai trying (unsuccessfully) to find a way to office. Apparently, 30 minutes of rain is all it takes to stuff up the daily operations in this metro. But it's not that. If anything, it served to delay the realization. Michael Jackson died today. I'm surprised at myself to be thinking about it. Even more that it's caused me to blog here after a gap over three months.

As I stood in bumper to bumper traffic, I wondered why I felt a sense of loss. I hadn't looked for Michael Jackson song on my hard disk in over a decade. Yes, I did pause the fm channel surfing in the car when the familiar opening to 'Beat it' or 'Thriller' came on, but didn't everyone? But then it also made sense. He was one of those rare breed of freakishly talented superstars who didn't blend into pop culture, but defined it for quite a while. My first album was 'Dangerous', gifted by my parents on a birthday, along with a Sony Walkman. Way before itunes and napster, before Vh1, Channel V or MTV, I remember Michael Jackson songs. Before hair bands and rock became my preferred music, Michael Jackson was the original cool performer. It didn't matter that there were a million other 'artists' doing similar things. There was none more original than Michael.

One can't help but like a superlative performer in a field they make their own. Just like you don't have to be a basketball fan to know Michael Jordan, or old Hindi music to know Kishore Kumar, or golf (god forbid!) to know Tiger Woods, you didn't have to be a fan of pop to know, and love Michael Jackson's music.

S summed it up perfectly, when she called to say that it seemed like we've lost a bit of our childhood today. Suddenly it wasn't so inexplicable, I'm sad because the King of pop died today.

Virender Sehwag - Force of Nature

While most of my cricket posts are now segregated on my 'other' blog : Outside Edge, some merit the crossover...

Smite me oh mighty smiter! For long, I was a non-believer. I thought the back foot, anchored, as if driven into the ground would be your undoing. I thought the incoming delivery from a good length would breach your defenses like an almost molten knife through butter. I thought those with strong shoulders and the ability to clock the high 130s kph would hobble you with rib-ticklers. I was wrong!

I believe!

Others have raised their arms in appreciation of the natural disaster that struck New Zealand. Jrod was amongst the first to found the religion of Sehwagology, which states amongst its scriptures:

“You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor his male servant, nor his female servant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, but if he bowls a wide half volley hit it like it stole your donkey or ox.”

Naked cricket has an enterprising visual representation of the innings: Sehwag Modern Art

BL Nguyen tracks the revival of the man since his comeback to the side in 2007 : Can Franklin stop Sehwag?

On his blog, New Zealand bowler Ian O’brien gives a first-person perspective of dealing with the most destructive batsman in world cricket today: Dark times and demons

It’s been a while since cricket saw something that took your breath away while having you drooling for more. Contests in mediocrity between Pakistan and Sri Lanka, the horrendous attack that was far more than cricket, the snooze-fests between England and the West Indies. Cricket needed this.

The unleashing of the destructive force that is Virender Sehwag. There are numerous players who eviscerate bowling attacks on their day. Not Sehwag.

There is nothing approaching surgical precision about Sehwag’s batting. It is just pure unadulterated violent power and timing. The backlift seems to commence even as the bowler is completing his delivery stride. The front foot steps out of the way to let the arc of the bat describe almost a full circle. The angle of the bat is not bound by traditional encumbrances like being vertical of perfectly horizontal. It hones in on the ball at whatever angle can offer maximum violence. He doesn’t look to hit them very high, just very hard. Most of his sixes don’t seem to go too much over head height as they thunk into sightscreens, scoreboards, hastily vacated seats.

Before being dropped, his areas of scoring were between point and thirdman. Creating room from deliveries on off-stump to flay them over point. The short delivery into the ribs used to be seen as a way to keep him quiet and to get him out. It’s apparent now that he’s been working on his on-side play. In Wednesday’s innings, he was offered almost no width. I can’t recall a boundary scored behind point. He was planting his feet and launching them into the midwicket region. Short stuff was murderously pulled or hooked.

It was scary to watch. And I’m an Indian supporter!

Daniel Vettori better be sending expedited orders for “Miracle Gro” to groundsmen for the test matches. Or atleast hand out hard hats to spectators.

Praise the lord! or as Jrod and Miss Field would put it “Praise be to Sehwag!”

Chinese curses and perspective

I wonder what those in the ISB class of 2009 have been feeling, ever since the world went to hell in a hand-basket, or so it seemed starting September 2008. If they’re like me and my peers from the batch of 2006, most of them took a break from their in-progress careers to “upgrade” their qualifications, to potentially change career tracks and definitely to improve earning potential in the medium and long term. Some, with very specific thoughts on where they wanted to be, others, with a much foggier idea, looking to ‘sample the menu’ as courses unfolded and options made themselves available.

The challenge, I clearly remember wrestling with, was to show patience and refrain from the temptation to latch onto whatever job opportunity came along first. Seniors philosophically remarked how a large percentage of the batch would’ve switched jobs come month two, so it didn’t even really matter what you picked on campus anyway. Wonder how I would’ve reacted to being told that the challenge wouldn’t be “which” but “if”. The atmosphere in a highly competitive environment is brittle at the best of times, with CTC comparisons and “sexy” industries or job functions causing people to fret about the appointment letter in hand just because “so-and-so got offered xx” and “the other got into that much vaunted field of xxxxxx”.

As those who’d “been-there-done-that”, most of us would nod/smirk knowingly when hearing about the current batch talk about the nightmare that term 2 was or how sleep-deprivation was so big a deal. It’s been almost three years since I graduated. I know a lot more now about my career preferences than I did while handing over the key to my room in SV2-H12. Yet, I’m glad I’m not answering questions about how to deal with the scenario that seems to have paralyzed so many companies into freezing recruitments.

Logic suggests, its temporary. Logic suggests, only businesses operating out of 4 X 4 Sq feet and selling crushed betelnut with an assortment of flavours and wrapped in betel leaves, namely corner paan-shops can afford to not continuously induct fresh managerial talent, and expect to grow and satisfy investor expectations. Logic suggests that the great Indian middle class that has got its first taste of Mcdonalds, Playstations and Power-steering will want more, much more. Logic suggests that this phase should be a very short-lived hiccup in an otherwise upward trend. That come 2012, those of the current batch will be a more sought-after battle-hardened group of professionals than those preceding them.

Logic, struggling at the best of times to explain the gaps in the actualized versus the expected, is going to be even short-handed now. It’ll be a challenge to take the measured decision rather than the convenient one. Here’s wishing them all the ability to maintain that elusive animal called perspective in times, that the Chinese, call “interesting”.

Normal service has been resumed

• Australia getting thrashed, in tests, one-dayers, thumb wars, air-guitar competitions, by any team disembarking down under. Not just any, even the ones who jumped puddles and came over from New Zealand.
• The Sri Lankans celebrating a solitary win at the Premadasa in Colombo, against India in the 5th ODI of the series
• An IPL bidding frenzy over a player based on talent and not just “star” quality. (Mashrafe Mortaza isn’t quite a household name in target demographic for most advertisers…yet)

Up was down. Tit was tat. Cricket was tekcirC. Until the final day of the 2nd test match between England and the West Indies.

Sanity returned to the cricketing world when the highly expected happened at the Antigua Recreation Ground in St. John’s, Antigua. Experts say that England’s failure to press home from almost complete domination over four days in a five-day test match against an opponent now in the “Most dramatic sporting collapses” hall-of-fame, has numerous precedents.

England captain Andrew Strauss was visibly relieved at the post-match interview “It was close, wasn’t it. With Freddie out of commission, I figured it’d be a breeze to not take the 7 wickets. I’d be lying if I didn’t sweat a little near the end wondering whether one of the bowlers might land one straight, but they
came through.”

Our sources spoke to several bookies who said that in contests like these involving two teams who have made “squandering the advantage” an art form, the smart money is invariably on the team in front to self-destruct. With Flintoff hobbled with a hip injury, even punters predicted a wicketless first session followed by a flurry late in the day as the West Indies would assert themselves to try and snatch defeat from the jaws of a draw.

A dejected West Indies captain Chris Gayle blamed the draw on the retirement of a certain Brian Lara. “His retirement certainly unsettled our lineup. For nearly a decade, his dismissal was the cue for the rest of the lineup to do the most promising impersonation of a pack of cards when someone opens a window”

Local spectators were subdued as they went about trying to look busy after their side couldn’t come away with the loss. A local resident dejectedly said “A bit of tradition has been lost today” On the other hand; the Barmy Army was in good cheer and continued to party long after time was called by the umpires in the final session. “Yet another forgettable day of cricket, to add to our enviable record over a couple of centuries.” He raised a toast as he congratulated the English team for “never failing to un-deliver"

Another “army-man” said how he never lost faith, even when that 9th wicket went down with the better part of an hour remaining. “I’d hold the bowlers responsible if that 10th wicket had fallen. Straussy did his bit by delaying the declaration in the face of a slow wicket and predictions of rain. All they had to do was to keep the ball away from Freddie”

For now the world of cricket is back to normal with the underachieving ways of the English. The West Indies will however will need to take a long hard look in the mirror to regain the spark that made them the biggest under-performers in over a decade.

Strappy Days

I, finally have an achievement to speak of, for my existence of over the better part of three decades. Having dithered, dilly’ed, procrastinated and for good measure, dally’ed for over three weeks since the seed of the idea germinated, the wife and I finally left the bustling and apparently irresistible force that is Mumbai for a purely voluntary weekend away, in Mahabaleshwar.

Before I’m faced with allegations of falsely trying to paint myself as a workaholic, it was always just laziness. Firstly, the time and more importantly effort that goes into figuring out a weekend destination is pretty much that goes into planning a year-long hiatus, or what must’ve gone into the invasion of Troy. Secondly, when compared to setting the alarm for 8.30am just for the bliss of pressing ‘Off’ and turning over for an additional couple of hours, the idea of being up dark and early (if it was bright, it’d wouldn’t really be early would it?) to *gasp* shower…and be *choke* physically active seemed just plain dumb. That said, not trying desperately, and succeeding, at looking like a vegetable over an entire day does have its rewards. It helped that the missus took on the onerous task of planning the invasion, namely means of transport and potential hotels.

A late night bus ride got us there; you guessed it, dark and early. Our cab driver’s doubts after hearing our hotel’s name – Fredrick, were justified when we came across a locked gate and an unanswered reception phone number. It was only later that day, as we walked about town, it struck us that our original hotel was the only one that didn’t display “Only Pure Veg.”, almost as prominently as the name of the hotel itself. I’d take up the cause for this blatant discrimination against those of us who prefer their food to have had a mother, preferably well-marinated, but this was a vacation wasn’t it.
Out and about after a hearty breakfast and the overarching theme is red. Everywhere you look, a dimpled red with a short green stalk adorns every storefront. Also the storesides storeback and storeroof. Enter the missus. Now, the woman I married is for the most part, a balanced, level-headed person, the odd transgressions being around chocolate, shoes and bags, in that order. Within minutes of entering the market-square though, she had a gleam in her eyes, that I remember having seen only once before, when I’d done the unthinkable and voluntarily tossed a sock into the washing machine instead of its usual resting place, on the coffee table. There is a scene in The Matrix, where Morpheus takes Neo through his first training simulation of the matrix. As Neo fights his way against the flow of the crowd, Morpheus glides through unimpeded. Ditto here! As I politely dealt with gents of dubious face-reading skills who kept coming up insisting that I looked like Ganpati and would have three progeny, she glided. We mutually decided that the emotion could only be described as strappiness, a state of blissful happiness arising from being in the vicinity of millions of strawberries.

Several ‘points’ with breathtaking views, a guide who had surprisingly accurate data on the number of tourists to have met their maker by jumping off them, the shooting of a film song sequence with a gent with a mop on his head and a lady with enough glitter on her outfit (however much of it there was) to blind onlookers. Quite the weekend.

And to all...Great unrest!

Our minds love symmetry. That is evinced by how excited researchers and scientists get when they find something that no one knew was there in a place that few knew existed, that is remarkably similar to something everyone knew existed, in a place, everyone could find on google maps. Take for instance headlines like “Scientists discover a tree fungus remarkably similar to diesel…” or “NASA scientists discover methane gas on Mars…” I’m not quite sure if it applies to other discoveries like “Man finds previously unexplored region on the back of his hand”

Anyway, a team of researchers set out to draw yet another bunch of parallels and came away dumbfounded by the extent of their discovery. Like most dumbfounding discoveries however, it is the most obvious thing. Not to take away from their efforts though, a bunch of documents were recently acquired, all in very cloak and dagger fashion (which made the exercise all the more tedious, the cloak kept tripping them up and its amazing the amount of damage a free-swinging dagger on a belt can do).

The documents in question are the mission statements of some of the best-known organizations of our time. If you’re thinking Coca Cola, Google, Disney et al, you’ve obviously not been following the foremost information-disseminators of our time; namely India TV, AajTak and others of their kind.

I’m referring to the likes of Mongers of Nihilistic Schizophrenia (MNS) , Supporters of Ridiculous Schisms (SRS), reTArded Leaders In Buffoonery And Nincompoopery (TALIBAN).

Interestingly, this motley bunch of organizations has strikingly similar playbooks. Our experts have found the key tenets:

1 The more the merrier. A note to each of our CDRs (Congenitally Dimwitted Recruits). A rule of thumb while embarking on a project is to apply a ratio of 3:1. For the number of people in target area, make sure you have atleast 3 times the CDRs (table in appendix gives the multiplication table for easy reference).

2. Women and children first. Old men next. They’re usually smaller than us and bruise easy. Note that the thumb rule on resourcing still applies. The littler ones make excellent shields against glass fragments, but watch out for flailing limbs

3. Inanimate objects are our friends. They fight back even less than the ones above. On locating ones made of material that is typically breakable, go to town! Here the resourcing rule can relaxed to 2 CDRs to each object.

4 The issue is not the issue. What we mobilize for doesn’t matter. It could be about anything as long as you can apply tenets 1, 2 and 3. If religion, caste, sex cease to be issues, some suggestions: discrepancy in the number of sesame seeds on a McDonalds bun, refusal of six-sided dies to show numbers higher than 6, discrimination against all polygonal shapes in the manufacture of manhole covers. (refer best-seller by Boob Nubbin titled “2001 causes to burn cars over”

In summary, remember we advocate a return to simpler times. Preferably one where our ancestors were still swinging off trees. Any signs of having advanced from there need to be removed. Besides, windshields and educational institutions are excellent examples of 2 and 3. Great unrest to all!

This message will self-destruct in...

If most books and articles written in this century on time-management are to be believed, email is to productive and meaningful lives, what GM and Ford are to shareholder wealth. Ok, so that was a schmuck-like analogy, but it gets the point across. The panacea to the digital evil, these experts say, is to check email only twice a day, at set times and to banish your email client to the nether regions of your computer’s RAM. Of course, they make this point while glancing at their blackberry to exclaim at the latest guaranteed method that will add several inches to their you-know-what.

Its not that I have anything against people who make their money from introducing people to the arcane concepts of calendars and wrist-watches but how has no-one asked the obvious question that if email is to be used only twice a day, what of the spikes in crime-rates by rampaging white-collar workers?

That if it’s not for the promisingly bulging envelope recognizable to MS Outlook users or similarly tantalizing taskbar icons for Lotus Notes and Thunderbird users, why would I and all of my ilk, hang around our laptops? Sure there are meetings to be consummated, numbers to be ‘crunched’ and spiffy ‘decks’ to be made but does anyone honestly think marginally sane individuals can or will do that for the duration of their working days? Who will deny the sweet twinge of anticipation that accompanies the momentary change in cursor to herald the arrival of an email?

It even applies to those emails meant for specialized mailing-lists that usually have two sub-lists in them along the lines of: 1. Accountants against IFRS 2. Everyone else. Sure, they’re not quite in the same league as the surge of adrenalin and other hormones that accompanied subject lines in the days of yore, that went “Pictures of Anna Kournikova” but “hilarious one-liners…”, “Mandatory use of access cards”, “UDF for domestic passengers” all have their place in a day’s work. Not content with all the targeted communication on company email servers, some even like to register on websites to receive minute-by-minute updates of peanut prices in Eritria or better-yet, alumni email groups.

Now, those of us afflicted with elevated levels of cynicism would be feeling just that, cynical, about the role of such emails in instilling work-life balance. But take a look at this exchange not more than a few hours ago with a client.

From I to recipient: Are we on for the meeting tomorrow? (Size 2KB)

Response: Yes, confirmed for 2pm. (Size 63KB)

Interest piqued at the 30-fold increase to email size with less than double the words communicated, I scrolled. Turns out, to the innocuous question I posed, the email system had added:

XYZ allows reasonable personal use of the e-mail system. Views and opinions expressed in these communications do not necessarily represent those of XYZ.

DISCLAIMER: The information in this e-mail is confidential and may be legally privileged. It is intended solely for the addressee. Access to this e-mail by anyone else is unauthorized. If you have received this communication in error, please address with the subject heading "Received in error," send to postmaster1@XYZ.com, then delete the e-mail and destroy any copies of it. If you are not the intended recipient, any disclosure, copying, distribution or any action taken or omitted to be taken in reliance on it, is prohibited and may be unlawful. Any opinions or advice contained in this e-mail are subject to the terms and conditions expressed in the governing XYZ client engagement letter. Opinions, conclusions and other information in this e-mail and any attachments that do not relate to the official business of the firm are neither given nor endorsed by it. XYZ cannot guarantee that e-mail communications are secure or error-free, as information could be intercepted, corrupted, amended, lost, destroyed, arrive late or incomplete, or contain viruses.

WTF?! So, let’s recap. They’re saying – we don’t know if you’re the one to have received this email. We don’t know if it’s what it’s supposed to be and if you’re not the one who was supposed to get this, our lawyers will wring all signs of life out of you. Also, let us know which idiot sent you this and we’ll lynch the sender. Not to be outdone, the recipient’s email system responded in kind with warble of its own kind.

It doesn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to see a few exchanges to mutate into something like:

NEW (and improved) DISCLAIMER: You were not supposed to read this email. If you however have, please delete the email, destroy the computer on which it was accessed (the viruses on the email will probably render your machine as a big-ass paperweight anyway), set fire to the email-server that routed it and jump out of the nearest window. If not, you will be hunted down by crazed network administrators who will then ping you repeatedly while invalidating all your passwords and then dynamically reduce your mailbox limit to one byte less than every incoming email you receive while only letting disclaimers through. Thank you.

Sometimes the truth is not enough

I’ve always been used to fairly simplistic super-hero movies. The ‘typical’ superhero has a standard set of abilities, which usually mean above average physical strength, one unique power and a monk-like righteousness. The story revolves around these as a given with a cute love-interest, a quickly-passing moral dilemma and yes, the villain, with powers that just about match those of the hero.

Its not like we don’t know how the story is going to pan out, I’ve always found they’re fun to watch nevertheless, because of the always improving special effects and the no fuss victory of good over evil that end with the superhero kissing his love interest, lots of applause all around and a burning city in the background. Makes you wonder whether only tourists form the cheering crowds given I wouldn’t be jumping around waving wildly if my home or office or both had just been leveled by marauding alien robots (Transformers), blown away by a flying man dressed in bright red (Superman) or simply punched aside by a huge pissed off green dude in pants that seem to have torn around the calves (The Incredible Hulk). More likely taking pictures for the insurance claim.

I’d done my top 4 list of superheroes way back when not all of them had been turned into moderately successful movie franchises. And since everyone loves a superhero, I didn’t pay much attention to the brouhaha over the latest DC comics offering ‘The Dark Knight’. I’d even seen it, since I and the missus have an unsaid rule about watching any superhero flick that comes out (and I do mean ‘any’, since we’ve even watched ‘The Fantastic Four’! Invisibility, biceps made of rocks and spontaneous combustibility might be very practical powers, but what self-respecting hero acts like a rubber band!). Memories of batman limited to an evidently gay side-kick exclaiming “Holy utility belt Batman!”, a long week and a 11.15pm show meant that I didn’t catch much more than the opening credits, closing credits and some exploding buildings and yet felt I’d got the gist of it.

I finally actually watched it on dvd and woah! The batmobile and the bike must be the best looking modes of transport used by any superhero. Come to think of it, most superheroes don’t rely on mechanical modes of transport so there’s not much to compare. The supporting characters are not as one-dimensional as I usually like them. The villain describes himself as “a dog chasing cars”, sets fire to a mountain of cash and extols the virtues of chaos. He oozes menace in the way he makes clear that he wants to gain nothing and had nothing to lose. But it’s the last sequence that erased all memories of brightly silly exclamations and anatomically correct outfits (remember Alicia Silverstone?). There are no wildly cheering crowds. Only the body of Harvey Dent, activist District Attorney reduced to Two-Face. Commissioner Gordon saying

“He’s the hero Gotham deserves…but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him, because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero…he’s a silent guardian…a watchful protector…A dark knight”

Brilliant!