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Can this Elephant Dance again, A layman's take on the Corporate Elephant

Sifting through the old mails I came across an article that I had written looong back (in a cold November of 2004 I guess)... Fresh out of a B School, I thought I had answers to all business problems and wrote this piece, I dont know for what or for whom, Just wrote it... Felt like putting it up here... SO here goes...

This is the story of a corporate elephant that had eyes as big as its ears.This elephant grew enormously by usurping the smaller animals and showed a stellar growth skyrocketing its top and bottom lines. But this elephant's huge eyes made it possible for it look and admire and boast and brag about its huge size. It started making its own rules than playing by the rules of the jungle. Then a time came when the elephant stopped growing because there was no more smaller animals to swallow. After buying out the whole of the market that was on sale this elephant found itself in a position where its top and bottom line got stagnent. During its days of stellar growth
what the elephant didn't realise was that its legs had not grown stronger, only its head its trunk and its eyes had grown. There fell the elephant with a bang, crumbling under its own weight of expectation and performance record that it had created for itself.
Now it rests on four wise men's shoulders the responsibility to lift the elephant to its feet and to make it regain its past glory. Welcome the Corporate elephant, welcome HLL. After 10 years of stellar growth and 2 years of plateau the company is
looking good once again. After the restructuring and reduction of flab the elephant looks all poised and set to get up and run. But will this elephant learn from its past? Will it strengthen its legs this time or just feed its head and polish its ivory?

The step forward

HLL is a galaxi; there are stars and there are super stars. Among these there are young stars and old stars, small stars and large stars, and just like any galaxy there definitely is dust that sparkle in the friction,giving the impression of these being superstars. Its time the stars and superstars are seperated from the dust that merely sparkle. No store can sell everything under the sun and no company can market everything successfully. The time has come to prune. The days of core competancy might be over but one thing that never fails is sticking to basics. And the
basics is surely McCarthy's 4 Ps, product, price, promotion and place. Whereas product, price and promotion for HLL brands have been exceptional, the 'Place' has taken a beating. The place does not restrict itself to the physical place, channel, location, inventory and reach which one must admit HLL is wonderful at but includes the attitude towards the place.
There are brands that sell themselves and there are brands that have to be sold. The whole market can be divided into two. The first half comprises of urban and semi-urban market that has consumers who are knowledgeable who know the options available and use this to their advantage. Products that sell themselves find a place here.
Then there is a market largely in the rural segment where the market is trying to catch up to their urban counterparts but lacks the purchasing power. This market works not by the quality but by the brand name and word of mouth publicity. Even an automobile engineer prefers a brand that his 10th class failed mechanic suggests would suit his car better. This is India and this is Indian market.
HLL of the past made a grave mistake, flexing its muscles on the small shop owners, the kirana stores, that ideally should have been their partners to growth. It tried to bull doze its growth by squeezing their channel partners. The strategy should have been, like the Hyundai tag line; 'Togther to the top'. It is these small shops that sell your product. How many times have you seen a village lad go and ask for a Lux soap? He only asks for a soap!! So who decides that the soap that has to be sold is a HLL soap or a P&G soap? Its the shopwallah, the very same shopwallah whose margins were reduced, who was not given credit facility.

So what can be done? Nothing much. You keep him happy and he keeps you happy. You are not competitors, you are partners. How do you do this? How do you keep him happy? Give him credit, replenish his stock in time, promise him you will take back the unsold inventory but give him an incentive if he sells it all. Give him a couple of bars of soap extra with each box he buys from you. Give him a Diwali offer an Onam gift and he'll advertise your product for free for the rest of his life. The way HLL looks at their channel partners has to change.
Value for money has been a greatest promotional offer and the only offer that can be sustained through all the season. The superstar brands that sell themselves should be more quality oriented, where the brand promises that its the best the consumer can buy with the money he spends.
For the rural market which has a mix of slight quality consciousness and high price sensitivity; where the consumer is trying to grow up the curve and follow his urban counterparts but the lesser money at his disposal pulls him back. For such consumers the brand should be launched in two variants. The first variant is low cost, value for money with no frills attached. And the next range should be a better packaged and promoted, seemingly premium product that is not fully out of the reach of this
segment. The price difference should not be considerable. This small price difference pushes him to jump to the next level and then gradually you take him to the next level that brings you better profits.
The rural market in India is very attractive. The marketers should learn from eveything. Look at the poll debacle of the NDA. The India shinning campaign fell on its face when Sonia Gandhi asked the rural populace of India (that forms 75% of Indian population), 'urban India is shining but what have you got'? The message reached the people and as they say, the rest is history. What do we learn from this? Man is a hungry animal and an envious one too. The rural India like the rest is in a race with itself to catch up with their urban counterparts. So give them the feel of it. Give them the same products at lower costs. How? Sachets- smaller quanity,
smaller price but huge market and huge profits.

C K Prahlad says Indian company can reduce cost by upto 20 %. As the electricity board's advertisement says, one unit saved is one unit generated; one rupee saved is one rupee made. Think what this 20 % savings could do to the bottom line? One most important field that could bring in this cost reduction is logistics. By improving the logistics and streamlining the supply chain the company would gain a lot. If stocks could reach the customers at lower costs and if they could be replenished in a better way; consumers would get better quality products and the company could save some serious money.
Market research is one very powerful tool that the Indian marketers have been ignoring for too long a time. The western counterparts have gone so far that they know which customer will have a need for what product at what time? The market research does not always mean those highly paid research firms and consultants who borrow your watch to tell you your time. Your sales people are the best judges.They are in the market and their sample size is the full population itself. Listen to the sales people. They know the pulse of the people, they have a immense wealth of market knowledge, but who's listening? Develop a culture of encouraging new ideas, from which ever quarters they are coming. Not all great startegies were born in the
board room. Even a stopped clock is correct twice a day.Innovation is the word. Its good to milk our cash cows but its important to develop new stars also as stars of today are the cash cows of tomorrow. Keep milking the cow and one day you see the cow has died and there is not even a calf to grow it into a cow. Make it a policy that a certain percentage (say 30 %) of your sales comes from products that are less than 3 years old. Find if there is a gap in the market and then market your
product in that gap.
Another attractive market is the export market. But what can we export? Unilever and its sister concerns are present in other countries. What we can export is Brand India!! Yes India is shining but not in India but in the west. Ayurveda, herbal, natural and Indian products have caught the fancy of the whites and the yellows, so give it to him. Cash in on it. There is a large market there. Enter the processed food market. The achars and the papads. These are fast moving and surely fast money. And yes unilever or its sister concerns cannot make and market Andhra achars, only
we can.

So as the song goes... 'Its a new world ... Its a new begining'... Dance
elephant dance.. your time has come....

Seeing is believing ... or is it!!!

‘Its not what you think... I..’
‘You don’t have to say a thing... I saw it with my eyes’, she retorted and.... he kept quite.

How many times has this happened. You want to say something, convince somebody that what they think is not correct, but then the person says ‘I saw it!!’ and you don’t have an answer.. After all seeing is believing !!! We see something and then our mind builds on it making its own conclusions. Isn’t it the way it works and why not after all we saw it ...right ...

Let me tell you a couple of anecdotes that my old colleagues once shared with me..

One is surely a liar.
Once a city witnessed a gruesome hit and run case. A speeding car crushed a rebelling union leader. The morning newspaper quoted an eyewitness saying ‘a black car crushed the man and sped away, I saw it!!!’. That evening the local channel telecast an interview of a lady who around the same time was trying to cross the road. She confidently said ... ‘I saw it.. a white car hit the man..’
How can this be, somebody is trying to protect the culprit the rich industrialist whom the union leader was at loggerheads with..
One of them is surely a liar.. bought by the culprit... they are trying to distract the investigators!!!

He is such a cheapo.
He was the star salesman of the company, touring twenty days a month visiting his market. After the dust and toil of field visits, company allowed him the luxury of a star hotel to rest and rejuvenate. Feasting heavily on the complementary breakfast is one routine that he never misses. There’s another one that he always does. When he checks out, he makes sure that he has picked and packed all the toiletries that are kept for him to use. Those bonsai soaps, shampoos, talcum powder sachets.. he would miss none. ‘I have seen it when I am on tours with him.... such a cheapo.. and you know what, he makes a hundred grands a month.. even then...such a cheapo ’ said a colleague of his...
Such a cheapo he is!!!

Isn’t our interpretation correct? One of the two witnesses is a liar trying to protect somebody and our star salesman is a magpie, trying to stash every penny. Or is it...

All of us are like this. We believe what we see, what we hear... provided we like to believe it. Its because ‘we’ see it and ‘we’ hear it and ‘we’ cant go wrong. We presume our perception based on the primary inputs received from our sensory faculties as gospel truth. It is not limited to the inconsequential happenings of our day to day lives but spreads to the more serious undertakings such as personal relationships, professional equations etc. We see our close friend chatting animatedly with a neighbour with whom we had a fight and then seeds of doubt creep in.. Is he really my friend or he swears allegiance to our enemy camp? You see your colleague come out your boss’s cabin and then your boss calls for you to give a piece of his mind... I know its him... He has filled boss’s ears against me.. I saw him walk out of the cabin... I know... Isn’t it?

Now back to the anecdotes..

After a week of rumours, allegations and conspiracy theories, the police arrested a college dude for drunken reckless driving causing the death of the union leader. He was driving a chequered car with jazzy white paint on one side and metallic black on the other. The dude was on a high trying some of his drifting skills when he overstepped the pedal crushing the poor man to death... Wasn’t one of the witnesses a liar? We knew it right???

One day after returning from the tour a colleague followed our cheapo as he filled his loot into a bag and set out. The chase took him to a huge compound with a rusted gate that seemed to house an old dilapidated mansion. Across the gate was written in bold letters.. ‘Helping Hearts – house for destitute ’. Our cheapo donated all his loot there. He does this every time when he returns from his field visits. ‘When I pay for the stay in the star hotel, I pay for the toiletries also... why should I leave them there? I might as well pick it and give away to the needy’... he told his colleague. Wasn’t our protagonist a cheapo... we knew it right???

This is the fact in most of the cases. We are ready to give more credence to what ‘we’ see and ‘we’ hear. The faith in our fellow beings, friends, relatives, society... everything can be doubted. What we see is right, what we hear is gospel. Belief somehow seems to be a prehistoric adage... Seeing is believing ... or is it????

Muscat- Magic, Masti, Mwaaaaah... Part II

And the flight landed. I don’t know why but I felt like cheering out loud, like the passengers of those low cost East European Airlines do every time a flight lands safely. But I didn’t dare move, you are in the Middle East for heaven’s sake, you don’t mess there. “Earn your Riyals and move on” my friends had advised me. So finally here I was, the dream destination, goes without saying it was just a dream an Oasis which was nothing close to what I had imagined.

The Airport was little larger than the Shantinagar Satellite Bus Stand and it had planes ‘if only you could call them so’ parked haphazardly. My Passport doesn’t boast of many entry / exit stamps, but I have had my share of domestic travel and I must say, the Sultan Qaboos Airport was among the smallest and least crowded that I had ever seen. Anyways, now that I only had a one way ticket, I decided to follow the de-planing passengers and open the next chapter in my book of destiny.

Middle East they say and I realize has this odd and consistent thing. Whenever anybody returns from their home country, the first couple of days are spent in absolute depression, no matter how long the person has been abroad. Believe me, it is a fact. In the two and half years I stayed out, I have come to India more than 7 times. That adds up to coming home once every four months. Still every time I land back at the Muscat Airport, I feel so low, not home sick, but a feeling of loneliness as if I have lost something. When you come out of airport, you literally search for reasons that could take you back, like you pray that your Visa is expired, or your driver has not come to pick you up or at least US has attacked Iran. But as always, when you expect something goes wrong, it never does. Your Visas are intact, Driver is at the Airport before time and US is more interested in Af-pak. You have no way other than following the driver.

Another thing peculiar to Middle East, at least to the place and company that I worked for is that one thing of yours, that you never get to keep is your passport. I had heard of it, but thats for uneducated labourers, I am an Engineer with a post graduation in International Business I thought. “Passport please”, commanded the driver. “Why, what, who the hell...” all these questions came to my mind. “Here” I said handing him my prized possession meekly. I would get it back the evening I fly out of the country and till then it would be in the company locker for what they call ‘SAFE CUSTODY’. Who the hell would be interested in my passport, I thought. Anyways, you don’t ask questions, especially when you are in Middle East and that too when you have just handed over your passport to a complete stranger. The driver had seen many Prasheels and half way through the drive, he said “even the company MD’s passports are in the company locker”. Must say that was a consolation.

The drive was un-eventful, so was the scenery if only you could call it so. Only thing exciting was the Camry Car that had come to pick me up. I had seen many posh cars, but a Camry coming to pick me up was flattering. This high however didn’t last long as a quarter of the taxis that plied in the city were, I found out- Camry. Fighting my loneliness I reached my accommodation, a leased building of six floors. Each floors had four flats fully furnished with all amenities, bed, A/C, Sofa, TV, Fridge, Washing Machine, attached bathrooms with hot and cool water, bath tub., nothing short of a three star facility. The top floor had pantry that served veg and non veg food cooked by company’s cooks. The driver introduced me to the care taker and the care taker lead me to my flat.

All employees of Saud Bahwan Group are provided accommodation. Some get villas, some furnished houses, some stacked in rooms that resemble poultry farms, all based on whats written on the Visa that allowed you inside the country. I had a single room with attached bath furnished with a TV, Sofa, Bed and Fridge that could conveniently take in a full grown ostrich. Dropping my stuff in the room the driver drove me to the office.

Thus began a very interesting phase in my life. Finishing the HR formalities I was escorted by to what would be my abode for the next 29 months of my life- my office.
Ford is advertised as the Largest Selling American Car in Oman, but an annual number of 1200 units in a market of 75,000 does not in any way do justice to the tall claim (not that its a false one, the other American Company GM sold 1180 cars that year). So its office, my office was well... uninspiring to say the least!!! A dungeon on the first floor of the Ford showroom that had files piled all over, the old carpet had a shade of brown that deceives you into thinking it was matched to the mahogany furniture. An office that had a lift with only one floor to service, no stairs and no fire exit. They say the President of the company once used to operate out of this office and the over sized bathroom and the remains of what was once rich furniture do make you believe the hearsay. ‘What am I doing here?’ From a proud Area Sales Manager for the sixth (must admit it was seventh back then) largest automobile company in the world to a Product Executive for a dealer who sells 1200 cars a year! I never hated myself more.

I hated the office on day one and I hated it till about 2 months then on. Then I fell in love with it. Not because it grew on me, but because the dungeon gave me an ideal den to bury myself, far from the nagging senior management. Once in the office, it was like being on an island that somehow didn’t find a place in ‘maps of the world’, unexposed, hidden, cool and free. This is the place where I would spend 325 days every year, the other 40 being in India.

A day in my life
Life is easy in that part of the world. At least it was so for me. My previous stint at the Hyundai Motors’ West Regional Office in Mumbai was, well back breaking to say the least. I used to slog in office from 7.45 AM to 8 PM. Add one and half hours of to and fro travel with a local train journey from Borivali to Mumbai Central and back six days a week and you have a tortured soul who will be ready to take up an assignment in Tora Bora. So when I had this job that required me to reach office at 8 only to go back home at 1 PM for a 2 hour siesta was heaven. I would then be back to office at 4 for a 3 hour work. The Air conditioned coaster and later my Ford Focus made the 15 min travel a pleasure.

Coming up .... ‘A Day in My Life.. Contd’, ‘LTFL Policy’ ‘License to Live’, ‘Friends are for Life’, ‘Dance Bar’, ‘Chastity Preserved’...

Muscat – Magic, Masti, Mwaaaaah….

Couple of month’s back I had to back-pack for this whirl-wind tour of God’s own country. I don’t know why, but my friends usually choose the same day or at best subsequent days to get married. Perhaps their way of testing who my loyalties are towards! Anyways, it puts you in this strange corner where you not only have to think about a valid excuse for a longer leave but also one for not attending one of the weddings or (if you manage to plan and attend both) even worse excusing yourself to leave early after showing your sleep ridden, fatigued face. One such ordeal took me hopping across seven cities of Kerala over a period of two days.. well you may say technically Kerala doesn’t have seven CITIES… but who’s ever cared for technicalities!!!

During this ‘hop-skip & jump –ethelon’ when my bus was in the middle of nowhere heading towards somewhere, my mind started wandering. All the various places, big and small that I have ever frequented started waltzing on my cerebral arena. Think of it.. all places that you have ever visited in your lifetime, all cities, towns, villages, hamlets. And in my not so long lifetime (I wish it were but many would otherwise!!), I’ve visited quite a few. Well nothing un-natural, a jaded mind finds its own way of entertaining itself!!! But what interested me was the thought that followed.

My mind, as jobless as I was, started to compare the different places, as if to find out the best among them. My father’s Central Govt service made the adjudicator’s role that much more complex, what with him and us packing our bags to a new place once every thirty six new moons!!!

That being the case the race to top of the list of best places began. I am impartial, at least I pretend to be… so my being a Mallu couldn’t or wouldn’t shift the scales in the favor of the so called CITIES of Kerala. Hence began a sojourn down the memory lanes, across the meadows of Pollachi to the waste lands of Kutch, across the un-ending chawls of Dharavi to the high rises of Dubai, across the humidness of Chennai to the chill of Mount Abu. Each place, each city, each road, each person had a story to recount.

Have you ever thought of it… the best place you have ever been to! No, not the most beautiful or exotic, nor the dream destination, just the normal place where you would like to return, say fifty years from today if the place was still the same, with the same lanes, same shops, same markets, same people, same friends, same enemies. Is there one such place you can think of?

Coimbatore is a city that I like very much. I have spent two invaluable years of my life there and if I was Chetan Bhagat, my ‘Two States’ would have been based there. The city, its people, the love-hate relationships that I developed, the foes turned friends that I cherish to this day make me nostalgic. I have always wanted to return to that place… to the open air college canteen for the sugar-less tea (yeah.. they are highly health conscious !!), to the Caramel bakery for their exquisite cream bun with added sweet when the girls from the nearby medical college are sitting a gape away, to the Ramu’s bar that serves more of touchings (for all you boozilliterates, that means a side dish!) than the actual drink, to the auntie’s tea shop across the road for the mid-night teas. But somehow it was not the place.. over the last six years, while I have wished I could go there, I haven’t really missed it !

I have done crazy things with my life and crazier things with my career. I was this young (yes at one point I too looked young!) and influential (of course…my Regional Manager had hand picked me and moved me to this new assignment, nobody dare mess with me, I am the boss’s boy!) Area Sales Manager of this leading automobile company. Learning the tricks and thoroughly enjoying myself I was, when I don’t know why, but I decided to apply for this job in the desert country, perhaps I was searching for my oasis.

And before I realized I was on a plane to this no man’s land… Middle East is the happening place dude, the cloud kissing buildings across the Sheikh Zayed road are a testament to it !!! Little did I know that Sheikh Zayed road was 450 km from this hamlet called Muscat the capital of Oman. They say Sindbad the Sailor set sail from Oman and now I know the reason why!!!

One hour after the flight took off I was scanning the surrounding for the mystical Arabic country, but all I could see was endless wasteland of cottony cloud. I stared and stared till my eyes could stare no more and I didn’t realize when I dozed. Jumping to attention when the flight attendant announced ‘fasten seat belts, seats up-right and tray table closed’ I continued my gaze. From the half-open windows of the Gulf Air flight all I could still see was endless wastelands of barren dunes and rocks, as if some mega construction was happening and the contractor had carelessly unloaded ship loads of sand across. The only high-rises my eyes could distinguish were at the max a three or four storey structures a la over-sized villas. I told myself, this is not it. This is some small town before we land in Muscat; the magical Muscat is some distance away. And then the flight landed!!!

End of Part 1....


Dedicated to you Shail, who brought back the memories of Muscat... not that I forgot them !!!

Gait to Destiny

"That new guy is a real pest. What does he think, he is Rajesh Khanna of Bawarchi? I hate such pseudo-altruists" Ketaki spewed. "I know, these guys think they are one-stop-shop for all problems - Any person, Any issue, Any time, Any where - Raghav the Great has the solution; doesn't matter whether you know him or you wish to seek his succor- Its always there, like the stray dogs on Madhopur's roads" Sudha buttressed.

There was some truth in this late afternoon grumble on the bank of the village pond. Raghav had recently moved in to the house next to Rashmi's, down the Banyan tree. With it, changed the life of Rashmi who was a young widow who till some time back never stepped out of her veiled melancholy. It was as though somebody had inadvertently pressed the 'Pause' button in her life. Every thing was so still and bland like the eroded boundary wall of her two room dwelling. You could sense the pain in the air, even the sparrows had deserted the Banyan tree in front of her house.

Some said, she was ill-fated, others believed she was a sorcerer who annihilated her husband's life. The men always sympathized with her and women never missed an opportunity to nail her. It was not that men of Madhopur were very cognizant and women cruel. Just that, men like all men were from Mars !! Eternally long-faced Rashmi was any day more alluring than the best of Madhopur's beauties, even Takur's city-returned daughter was not a match. Women were women, they abhorred the hushed flutter that Rashmi used to cause when she frequented Lalaji's Kirana shop every Tuesday of the week.

But all this was a full fourteen days back. Time had changed since then and so did Rashmi. From a loner who hardly spoke to herself, she had started music classes where seven kids would exercise their vocal chords thrice a week, week after week. Somebody had suddenly pressed 'Play' and also changed the Channel!!! You could now hear an occasional giggle, and yesterday she had even ventured into Somnath's 'Bombay Fancy store' hitherto a no-stray-zone.

All this was rightly attributed to Raghav and now a cheerful Rashmi had become 'threat numero-uno'. Sudha's husband had started coming home early and Ketaki's younger brother had got a new-found love for his niece and insisted on dropping her every time to the music class!!

The talk of Raghav's affair with Rashmi died a pre-mature death when daadi mai the mid-wife for three generations of Madhopur announced that Raghav was Rashmi's aunt's son- her brother. The women had suddenly lost ammunition to get even.

Rashmi's life was one of the several that Raghav had painted green in the past two weeks. He had fixed job in the city for Abbas, helped the school teacher enroll new students that saved three jobs, convinced Panditji to give his daughter's hand to her lover- the high school passed Kishen and promised ten thousand rupees for a new community well. Raghav had suddenly changed the feel of the place and the yeah with sparrows, even parrots had returned to the Banyan tree.

Every time somebody thanked Raghav, he would say "Life is of twenty days, if you are happy, I am happy". This had become a kind of new anthem. The un-attached girls were betting on their chances and the newly-married one's cursed their bad-luck for saying 'yes' a tad early. Raghav had suddenly become the cynosure. His rough looks, pale skin and lean built did not deter ogling eyes, beauty after all was truly, only skin deep.

But this was just one part of the story. Not everybody was happy with Raghav's homecoming. Rising popularity gave Netaji the Panchayat President, sleep-less nights and Bhiku made it a point to stoke the fire further. After all every additional bit of information was rewarded with a bottle of Tadi the country liquor. The elections were fast approaching and there was a talk of Raghav taking on Netaji. And if that happened, it would mean not only loss of face but missing out on a fortune. Netaji had plans to propose construction of a road and a bus stand on the barren land that he owned. That would make him a rich man for sure.

Being a true politician Netaji was biding his time to level scores, but when he saw Raghav encouraging his son Amit to get friendly with Rashmi, it was the last straw. The camel's back was broken and he had to act. Munna was called immediately.

"Hands, Legs or Ears?" That was Munna style. Whatever his sponsor asked for would be brought. After finishing his prey, he would keep one Ear with him and gift the other to his sponsor.

"Legs, I don’t want that scum bag to wear a shoe again. Reptiles are really beautiful" Netaji responded. Munna started shadowing Raghav but the very next day vanished from Madhopur. Couple of days later Netaji got a message from Munna, "Any other work, I'll be there. This is beyond me, Sorry".

Netaji tried pleading, threatening, goading, Amit into submission, but he would have nothing of it. "I will marry Rashmi" Amit had made it clear. Being left with no choice, Netaji went to the city and got Abdul langda involved. Next day Raghav's mutilated body was found floating in the village pond. The whole of Madhopur descended to Rashmi's house where Raghav was resting, the whole of Madhopur wailed but Rashmi was silent.

Netaji also came to pay his final respect camouflaging the demon within him with his Gandhi cap. Laying the trademark politician's wreath he wanted to slip away when he overheard Ganpath speaking in hush tones to a group.

"His real name is Raunak Singh, the notorious bandit of yester-years. He was in jail for the past six years when his case was going on. He was to face the gallows next week and was out on parole." Mohan lal continued "It is said that he had connections with many big leaders with whom he shared his loot, but when the verdict was announced, he did not even try for an appeal". "A bandit!!! and look at what he has done for us" Naseer said. "But why?".

"What do you do if you know the exact date of your death!!" Amit quized... 'Have you thought about it?"

A jaunt to humanity..

Bus journeys are not something that I enjoy, especially if its a crowded, rickety BMTC ride from Kodihalli to Shivaji Nagar (God bless Volvo!!! and curse the BMTC route schedulers - very few ply on my route!!!). But its something that I have to live with, the tales of my brother's bike driving me and mom promising never to sit next to me when I drive the car are legendry. "Why cant these guys follow traffic rules, there's no lane discipline, Cant that jackass see I've put an indicator !!! ","Stop it... Its you who doesn't know the Indian Driving ways, this is not Muscat with empty six track roads" my brother would say.. (so much to say about my cruising skills...)

Back to the story... this being the case, BMTC is like the un-polished, horoscope matched bride that I have to accept with the Pecos frequenting high healers not even bothering to throw a glance !!! So BMTC it was...

Crowded BMTCs interestingly irritate you with a cacophony of jarring songs (hello.. thank you for being considerate and sharing your music, but no thanks..), loud personal mobile chats (and I thought those deafening trunk-call days are over!!!) and odd scuffle for seats. Move over road rage, bus rage is here..

Its not that I am a saint. If its a crowded bus and I am bundled into one and half square feet of floor space, I make sure that when the bus reaches Shivaji Nagar, I block atleast two fellow commuters who till this moment had snuggled in the seats and now want to be the first one to de-bus (my way of ensuring natural justice, after all I've paid the same fare, if he's got a cozy seat, I have the birth right of getting out of the bus first !!!)

In one such expedition yesterday I saw this spectacle... Two school kids were sitting on the either side of the aisle and as usual I had the comfort of my one and half square feets. The bus was noisy as ever and the two kids were having animated communication through gestures. Then one of those loafer looking (munna bhai types, not the MBBS but the Rangeela types) lean guy with long hairs and cap came closer, showed some gestures and took the kid's seat and made him sit on his lap. My social instincts rattled, another paedophile on the loose, was the first thought (I have heard that crowded buses are their favorite hunting grounds!!).

Not daring to take a pro-active step I just waited for the next move. The two guys started interacting excitedly, not with words or eyes but with hands and I realised that they were deaf n dumb. How did the guy and the kid find that out. Why did the young boy so happily give his seat to that loafer??

The communication continued and from whatever I could gather, pleasantries were exchanged, school, class, and perhaps names too. The new friend made it a point to chat with the other kid sitting across the aisle. This was going on when from two stops further two handsome guys got in. One wore a glass perhaps made out of a Pepsi bottle and the other a bright smile that could give any girl in the bus an instant crush. Well dressed in Spykar jeans, Nike shoes and Jansport bag the guys looked very much a typical suave Bangalore College guys. But what atracted all our attention was that the two guys held their hands close and tight, never leaving for a minute...

Letting the loafer and the kid be, I moved my antennas to cover the new Jay n Veeru in the bus. The two guys came and stood next to our kid. Within a second they started talking (obviously with gestures). Even the two smarties were deaf n dumb!!! But again how did they know and how they started talking immediately? I could see the economic, class and perhaps a religious divide (one of them wore a prominent cross around his neck). But none of it ever seemed to matter.... Have you ever bothered even to smile to a loafer looking guy (not the right kind of guys to mingle with right!!!).

I gave a break to my thoughts and tried to follow the conversation. The loafer seemed to be bothered about the spectacled guy. He enquired about him. The friend perhaps replied that, he was deaf and dumb like them and his vision too was weak. Thats the reason he was holding his hands tight. Immediately the loafer got up and literally pushed the spectacled guy to his seat. The friends resisted, but he didn't want to listen and said he'll get down in next stop or so. So the spectacled guy sat with the school kid in his lap. While sitting he took the bag from his friend and held it for him. All this while the two friends were still holding hands!!!

The next five minutes the discussion was about the spectacled guy and the loafer was empathising. He seemed so genuinely concerned!!! The spectacled guy was definitely from a well-off family and I felt that the poor looking deaf n dumb loafer's situation was worse than the spectacled guy. But here is this guy empathising so sincerely to a far more well off comrade...

I am not sure if my writing does justice to capture the emotions that I was going through seeing all this compassion and camaraderie. The boy's respect for elders, the loafer's empathy about a fellow being, a friend's concern for a semi-blind buddy!!! The heart-felt reciprocation of small favours, the interest that they had in each other's lives, the smile that one person's happiness brought to the other.. seeing is believing... All the people around them were watching them, just out of curiosity and boredom. But they didn't feel embarrassed about their deficiencies, they didn't try and hide it. They kept on enjoying each other's company, not bothering what others thought about them. But believe me, I felt my con-science prick me. I've always complained that I don't have this, I didn't get that, Lord has been partial, but after looking at all this, all I could do was offer the vacant seat next to me to the loafer!!!

God has been so un-fair to these angels and they don't seem to complain. They make the maximum out of whatever they have and don't forget the basic human qualities of compassion, respect and co-existence. The bus reached Shivaji Nagar and everybody jostled to jump out and I for once waited for all including the two kids, the loafer and the two smarties to get out...