Helped alive by a Undertaker

Hi folks, this is about a real life experience I had during my stint as a summer trainee at TERI in Delhi. For the background of it, during our MBA we are supposed to work with a corporate for summer project in order to complete our first year. I got placed in The Energy and Research Institute(TERI). The profile demanded me to do a feasibility study of Biomass Gasifiers TERI had designed especially in commercial applications. The damn thing was a chulha, which worked on biomass. It not only worked with ease of a LPG gas but was cheaper also. I had to suggest the company on all the 4P's i.e product, price, place and promotion. Somewhere during the project I realized that I should know the whole distribution of firewood, if it is there at all. The distribution of Biomass fuel or pellets as we called it would be quite similar to it. But I didn't had a clue of the firewood network(who does??) so I consulted my marketing professor Mr Pankaj Priya, bingo and he had a weird idea... Why don't you go a shamshaan Ghat(crematorium) and find out..???

So here I was, a fully formally dressed MBA grad, hanging a laptop, standing on the gates of Munirka Shamshaan Ghat.. When I barged in, there were two people burning(may god bless them), the workers were quite amused to see me. They were used to see people in groups usually carrying a dead on there shoulder. A jazzy young college grad, wearing a equally flashy(and cheap) shades, carrying a laptop was too much for a crematorium. I asked for the incharge, and the chandaal(undertaker) came out of his room. He was surprised, to say the least, and when I told him that I needed his help in my MBA project he was floored. I was immediately invited in, he had a small room with only one messy bed(not much lively visitors eh..) I looked for a place for both of us to sit since the bed was quite messy and guess what, he made me sit on a coffin, that was the only other thing available. Then he went on explaining on everything about firewood network. I must confess, I got more information than I asked for, the guy not only knew his job but also all things connected to it. How wood is obtained from wholesalers in west Delhi, how to bring it here to retail (crematoriums, retailers from slum etc), what is the source of wood, at what price wholesaler gets it, what are the margins etc etc.. That served my purpose, I thanked him. When I started going out he offered me tea, I could not refuse. So then we had hot tea in hot delhi at a hot crematorium. I am guessing I am the only one in my entire clan who had a tea inside a crematorium. Usually when we burn our dead, we come back and purify ourselves by bathing and doing some rituals, but here I was having tea with a friendly undertaker, forget rituals I didn't even bothered myself with a bath after coming out, I had to go elsewhere. Thinking of this now makes me philosophical, how easily we forget the existence and importance of some people. All I can say is that was a whole new perspective

Last words of the undertaker to me--- "Sahab fir miliyega zarurat ho to"(Sir, please come again if you need me)...I don't know if I would ever need him alive again, but his kind would definitely of use once I am all done.

Thanks for your patient reading.

Tinu..

Obituary to Mr. K.K Khosla

(Based on true incident, the names have been changed for personal reasons)

Few months back I saw a fantastic movie called khosla ka ghosla, a movie about the plight of a typical Indian middle class person. The first scene of the movie shows Mr Khosla dreaming that he is dead and lying in front of his house, and all of his family and friends are ‘supposedly’ mourning over his dead body. The younger son, a scholar, and a private company employee, rushes to his office like a normal day. 0ffcourse his father death is of less significance for him, and it seems normal to everybody mourning there. The older son is busy asking one mourner about his watch and inquires about the whereabouts of the shop, and also for people references, repeats the incident of his father death like a tape in a typical ‘jat’ style. Khosla sahab’s partner in office looks more concerned about, “ pata nahi kaun be#$@*#od inki jagah aayega” and finally our dear Mr. Khosla wakes up from his dream.

The purpose of this long story was to justify my title. Something happened on very similar lines sadly not in my dreams but reality. I had to witness the sad demise of an extremely nice & caring person. For personal reasons I’d call him Mr khosla. I got a call that Mr khosla has passed away, and it really stirred me from within, not that it was totally unexpected (he was suffering from brain cancer) but still it was hard to believe that a good person like him was no more with us. I went his home and had to rush out of the house after looking at the person lying there like that, because it was impossible to keep myself in control. After standing there for some minutes, I found there was nothing much I could do as everything was being taken care of by his friend and family. So I went back home to return back at night when he was about to start his last journey to crematorium.

When I came back it was hours Mr. Khosla was dead, and the pain and shock of his death already seemed to fade out in his friend and distant relatives, now it was mere formality and a business like affair for people standing there. One Mr. Old saw me standing alone and started full fledged inquiry on me. Who are you? How do you know Mr Khosla? What do you do? Which all companies come to your campus? I felt as if Mr. Old was looking for a perfect match for some girl he knew, thankfully the last query was, “what is your cast?” and when he came to know I was kayastha and not Brahmin, instantly he shifted his attention, away from me. Cast is still a very important in our nation especially for arranged marriage. Soon Mr. Old found another “Brahmin, foreign return software engineer” in the vicinity so he had his new prospect anyway. Next was Mr. X, whose common question to all was”Kitne din tak allowed hai government quarter mein rehna inki family ka” after all the location was on prime land of Delhi. Amidst all these, Mr. Khosla’s last ride was ready with all garlands and flower followed by a brief photographic session by some young lads, may be for some memento purposes (thanks to the latest mobicams which they successfully swanked). “Thora baju hatna please”, “thora upar se angle le, puri body aa jaayegi”. Anyways we all left for the crematorium and it was cold night river side place of Delhi, the chandaal arrived and all the last rites were done properly and the deceased was handed over to the all accepting fire god and Mr. Khosla mixed in the five elements where he came from. The fire was increasing over the pyre gradually and some common comments around were “kitna time lagega yaar pura jalne mein” “kafi late hoga lagta hai” ”hum zara pehle minibus mein nikal lenge”“kyaa achhi aag lagai hai” ”ye banda expert hai body jalane mein ha ha ha ha” for a moment I felt like saying, ok man why don’t you book him (the chandaal) for yourself in advance?? It was 2 AM by now and all those who are unaware of the winter nights of Delhi, let me tell you, they can really run shivers in your spine. Within a moment everybody was shivering as it was damn cold and soon everyone’s attention shifted to the huge source of heat nearby, soon survival instincts took over the social etiquettes and everybody stood around the pyre to get rid of the cold. It was 3 AM and now everyone started enquiring hush hush about the private mini bus and very soon the people including me left the place, people left behind were immediate family of Mr. Khosla and his son’s very good friends. Anyways I had to leave; I had my paper very next day. Some more comments in the bus were “yaar ye electric wala funeral system kaise kaam karta hai” the reply, “tu apna heater rakh ke dekh hoo haaa haaa haa” and our dear Mr X was still inquiring about the duration left for Khosla family in the flat, adding to it “kitna hoga GPF mein” “ladka pass hua inka” “arre inka to apna ghar bhi hai kahi”……. Dude this person was alive and a colleague of yours only some hours ago, what the…..

Mr khosla was one the best person I knew. He and his family brought me back from a very serious condition last year. I will always be indebted to him and his family, I owe my life to them, and they were like my family when I was away from home. Mr. Khosla was a very helping, far sighted and extremely good human being. The person was helping people even after his death to get rid of the cold. I think the creator could not stay away, for long form one of his best creation, so he called back Mr. Khosla so early. When my father broke the news of his sad demise, he told me, that I should not make a difference between him (my father) and Mr. Khosla and thats very true, Mr. Khosla was like my father. I and all those who truly liked and loved him will miss him for sure

Lastly a request from the core of my heart, have some heart…..you may not feel the same as the other person, but there are times when you can watch out for your actions and statements. If I, a total outsider felt so enraged, think about the good friends and family of Mr. Khosla who were shocked and sad then, how could have they felt hearing all these statements. Death is not a happy social gathering; there are people around who have genuine feelings for the deceased and if you cannot console them, atleast please stay quite….

Tharki... :(

This is something about gender bias, and if you are expecting something highly academical or philosophical in here then go away cause I am very angry, and not in a mood to write something goody goody and yes I will be using a lot of hindi coz it is the essence of topic. I would exercise my full control over this blog to vent off my anger for few ASSHOLES (got a glimpse kitna gali bakne wala hoon)..
A lot has been talked about biasness towards a particular gender, but yaha hum baat kar rahe hai purusho par badhte torture ki. This torture to men is surprisingly, by men only..Aahh screw it, I am referring to few of our faculty in LBSIM who have a tendency to favor chicks.. Hum gadhe ke bachhe chahe jitna bhi bole , jub bhi bole, galat hai, then who is right...??? Madam is always right..Kaun madam?? arre koi female teacher nahi, woh jo humare saath baithi hai , woh jo hamare saath padhti hai woh..baap re baap kitne saare kapde pehne hai madam ne..aur ye madam sir ko dekhte hi jhuk kyu jaati hai?? Madam kya sharam bech kar fees bhar di MBA ki??
It could have been tolerable if there was only one tharki around..but yaha to puri fauj khari hai...LBS ppl knows who was the original tharki , but doston kuch aur bhi hai naye buddhe khusat..
Have you heard the maxim boss is always right , now add to it, if he has a beautiful secretary even she is also always right.I mean this is limit, looking at there face (and other parts..ahem..) their gradings are changed, ekdum B- se A++ , hum kya dikhaye?? (Kadua)..
Beware if you are planning to cross question the MADAM in a presentation , if you do, tharki tumhe us cross pe chada dega.."NO YOU ARE WRONG, THE WHOLE QUESTION IS WRONG" would be his words..But guys if you are getting senti over his thrashing then look at whats going on Mr. Tharki's mind..actually he is saying"You are right or wrong , who cares untill and unless you are a MALE" So tension nahi lene ka...aur tharki ki to $$%$&$%^*@#$%&;*@#*?>:@#$%&##....and the swearing continues...

The world is running..should I care..

whoops !!! writing after a long time, thought of many things but, could not convert them in black and white.
So here it is.
The ambiance around me is buzz with activities. Suddenly the people out here have become busy.The surface and obvious reason is the study pressure, which is a compulsory aspect of a b-school. But the underlying reason is the placement season approaching towards us. Though its quite far(I mean to me atleast it seems so) but the mercury is rising, people are becoming more competitive, responsible and studious. The world ,if not sprinting, has started running, and here am I sitting as usual on my laptop away and out of reach of this mundane activities. And mind you I am neither proud of it nor I am liking it. Ask those runners, are you running??...huf huf huf...running??? who me??? huf huf you gotta be kidding...
I mean what is this..Is either the person answering fool or the person being answered nuts. Why the fact that you are seriously studying now is meant to be hidden, seriously these things only make me hate the concept of competition.
Minds are discoursing over latest economic activities , concepts are being recalled, skills are being sharpened for that cutting edge. And ask them bout it, the reply comes. "who me..?? I never do that, I am a laid back laggard, who is a born intelligent with a gifted memory(in short I am a super hero), who never did and never will do all that crazy stuff"
Dear a word for you , if thats your dishonest confession then you are a big fool, and if by any chance this as an honest confession then you are a bigger ...er no biggest damn fool....
And here comes the third category in which I fall. These thoughtful souls are those who very well know the need of the hour, but are not able to do the needful, the reason being their friendship with lethargy and leisure. Sorry if you fall in this category alongwith me, I don't have any praises for you either. I always say to people that its very easy to surrender to temptation and give up, but it takes a man(women plz don't get angry , its just an expression) to come out of it. I do not endorse or stand for any such activities I consider them the sign of weakness, a quality not worthy of a leader....I feel terrible that I have fallen in this class, though I am quite happy that I am not in the above two classes,but still this is not done, I have to come out of it and sooner or later I will.
So the moral of the story"The world is running, and soon it will run faster, and we all better care or else we will always follow , and never lead"

Deewana tera... a song I sang at LBSIM annual fest , it won the first prize

At the stroke of midnight hour..

I know India got freedom at this hour.The freedom is in real sense or not is still a debatable issue. But I am not talking of that I am talking of this midnight hour when we are in a transit between January 2007 and February. At the stroke of this midnight hour I look back at the past one week. What a week it was, a life time experience in true sense. I got a chance to visit the mecca of Indian B-schools,IIM-Ahmedabad.Its a place where you see how dreams look with eyes opened.The IIM-A is very right when it says "Don't say sky is the limit,there are footprints on the Moon".
I also was one of those lucky people who saw there dream materializing in front of there eyes. An experience you can cherish till the last breath of your life. I will always remember those rocking DJ nights ,those live shows of junoon, silk route, remo and many.I would remember those winning celebrations,those practices till midnights,the camaraderie our whole batch shared. Above all I would remember those words of the judge,who said "The first prize obviously goes to Saurabh Roy"
And now here I am in my hostel room no 11 with my room partners,who quite unusually have slept,with my eyes closed and mind opened.That cheering crowd,those clapping still rings in my ears.The sense of happiness when you are appreciated for a quality you always tried hard to inculcate,the sense of a hard earned victory fills my heart and soul with a unusual sense of calmness and gratification.Though the pain of loosing out in Dramatics and group song still hurts, but I've no regrets, we gave our full. I always believed winning is very important,no one remembers the second,but its not the ultimate. The ultimate is participating with your full might and capacities,which I firmly believe we did.
Thanks to LBSIM and friends for such a wonderful experience.

At last I would say At the stroke of midnight hour when the world dreams I lay here in my room no 11 thinking about the dreams I saw coming true in front of my eyes.Now I won't say that sky is the limit because I have left my footprints on Moon....