Final Destination.

I share the opinion of many of my peers that 2 years in a "rigorous" b-school hasn't made me any better professionally. But what it has given me - and I thank my stars for that - is a wonderful set of people whom I have come in contact with and hope to remain in touch with forever - my colleagues, my friends. These are individuals who were total strangers when I moved to Pune for two eventful, action-packed years on June 1st, 2008. These are people whom I would from then on for two years live with , study with, eat with, make merry with, but most importantly, have some very fruitful and eye-opening discussions with in a wide variety of settings right from the road-side tapri serving substandard tea and even worse vada-pav (It really is a pain for someone coming from Mumbai) to a bar-lit hostel room over bottles of booze when our eyelids are begging us idiots to hit the bed instead of having philosophical discussions on how binge drinking is eventually a brain-killing habit and should not be indulged in.

One of these days, I was in my room utterly bored to death with the "liberating" routine that we are observing of late. Right next to me, on his bed lay Farook - my roomie, in a similarly lazy pose wondering why the cracks in the ceiling are making it look like the map of Uganda. Our brains have been leading a vegetative life ever since the three of us got placed. That really was the final straw. Out of the blue, I asked him, "Farook, yaar is this what we really want to do? Do you really think the jobs that we have been offered will entertain us for a long time to come?" Farook pondered. Finally he said, "No. This is something that will get me a cushion. Something that would get me a regular pay-cheque thats so much needed in the initial years. Nothing else. It cant keep me piqued for a long time." Then I let the hammer fall. "Yaar, what is that one thing that you would give anything for? That one thing that you would do with all your heart, and then some more? Something that you wouldn't want to earn a single paisa out of, but you will nevertheless do tirelessly?" And so started a conversation that lasted almost 2 hours. And what came out of it was immensely satisfying. What we were talking about is that one vocation that we feel comes naturally to us. Something that we feel we were ordained to do by divine decree. A job that wouldn't for us be "a job". And that's where the concept of being equipped naturally comes to the fore. This is where you feel that you wouldn't really have to "think". It flows, effortlessly. You are a natural at it, if not a prodigy. We talked at length of entertainers and sportsmen being some of the luckiest people around, the simple reason being they earn by the truckloads doing what they love. We were not only talking about the Bachchans, the Akrams, the Schumachers and the Beethovens (the prodigies) but also the Kapoors, the Flintoffs, the Karthikeyans, and I dare say, the Reshammiyas (naturals, but not prodigies). True, in these fields too, there are the Altaf Rajas, the Rakhi Sawants, the Salman Khans and the Sreesanths. But probably, these people face the same predicament as most of us do in engineering, medicine or management and would have been better off doing something else. So, then the question, albeit a bit late, is "Why did I academically do all that I did?" I took up science in high school, got into engineering and worked as a software developer for almost three years, threw that away making the experience thence gained come to nought when I decided to do an MBA in Finance and then spent the larger part of a good two years getting properly ground within the works of an MBA life and learning how to keep myself going without sleep. But then, did I want to be a scientist? No. A software developer? No. It was good while it lasted, but then was it my final calling? Never. A fund manager? Finance has its charms. It is challenging and prods me to learn more and more. Its an exciting job. Yes. But is it where my heart is? Thats an emphatic NO! Then why? Probably, the middle class mindset of everyone being either an engineer or a doctor, or (lately) an MBA had much to do in deciding the career path that I had taken. The new generation, especially the middle class; most of their parents are people who havent had it too easy in life. They have mostly migrated to far-away lands, in many cases lived in unimaginable conditions amongst complete foreigners and built their nest right from the ground up. These people have known the value of every penny earned and saved, mostly the lesson being taught to them the hard way. Its only natural for them to wish their own children financial security at the very advent of their professional lives. And this forms the base for their nudging their children into "professional courses" - something that sadly doesnt leave the children with too many options. The end result is that by the time they have gained sufficient maturity, and realized with great difficulty what they truly want, they are a stage when they are saddled with familial responsibilities and the one thing thats on top of their "worry-list" is their fast receding hairline. Probably too late to accept that the professional roller-coaster that they have been riding on till date has only left them back at square one and too late to start off on a totally new journey.

So for me, the idea behind a regular job would always be to build up a pot which I can reach into in times of financial need. It might be exciting and keep me on my toes. But would it have a soul for me? Would I absolutely love it? Probably not. I am not saying that I am "gifted" so to speak or even a natural. But when I let my mind drift and think as to what I would love to do irrespective of the time of the day, there's only one thing that surfaces cleanly above the mishmash of vocations that I can think of. Music. Carnatic classical music. I repeat again as a disclaimer to anyone who after reading this feels I am being a braggart, I am not saying that I am gifted. I just feel I have both a sense and more importantly, a passion for it. There are a few other things also close to my heart, but this one thing unarguably ranks first. As far as Farook is concerned, he too has clearly marked out his dream vocation. At the end of those two odd hours, we said, "Let this not be an empty conversation. Lets some years down the line, meet and assess if we have lived up to our words."

Have you figured out whats that one thing you would heartily do if one day you were offered that along with a disclaimer saying "No remuneration involved!"? Everyone should have that figured out. And that by the way, is just my opinion.

Let's Put Down That Spear, Shall We?

Bang!! The twin barrels of the Winchester smoked after having coughed the projectile which was now deeply ensconced in the soft flesh of the once - magnificent tiger as it lay on the grass, writhing in an all consuming agony, breathing its last, the grotesque wound in its “precious” hide spurting hot crimson blood onto the ground. The hand holding the weapon of murder hadn’t flinched one bit. The murderer grinned, full of pride in his kill.

I have firm belief in the fact that God had made all living beings equal. And I dare call it a fact, just in case you missed. A long (very, very) time back, “we” started breaking off from the pack. The process was to be called “evolution” millions of years later - after we started making sense of the once-nonsensical sounds we all yapped. But back then, Caveman and Cavewoman used to hunt animals down in order to feed themselves and their Cavechildren. Basic instincts – fair enough. During one such encounter, Caveman must have gotten shredded by a Saber-tooth, which he thought was just a grossly obese cat with two disproportionately big buck-teeth. Cavewoman, seeing this must have suggested to him to keep his ego under check and use a “weapon” instead of going in stupidly bare handed. And thus began “hunting” as we know it today. But not quite. Somewhere along the way, a rogue genome ticked off in Caveman for all eternity the urge to kill not just for sustenance but also just for the heck of it. By the time Caveman graduated to Homo Sapiens, he with that incredible machine whirring in his head had devised tools - read guns, spears and what not - with which he could comfortably keep his cowardice under check and kill or maim any of his former kin from a safe distance. And now that he could do that, thought and reason gave way to irrational indulgence.

We all sympathise with the Japanese for the WW2 misfortune that befell them and the after-effects of which continue to torment a part of them to this day. We also hold them in great awe at their Phoenix-like rise from Ground Zero. But all this notwithstanding, their treatment of such innocent creatures that they almost seem angelic – Dolphins – makes one wonder whether they deserve all that goodwill. Dolphin Killing is a tradition that’s been followed for more than 400 years and it is one of the most dastardly and gruesome acts of cruelty one can ever witness. It is as at home in Peru, Hawaii and some other Asian countries as it is in Japan. But though some of the other countries have rightly deemed the tradition illegal, it continues to enjoy legal sanction here. The Japanese Government has even fixed an upper limit of 3000 dolphins per year to be killed, which by the way, is blatantly flouted. The modus operandi goes as follows. “Fishermen” set out in motorboats and when they spot a pod of dolphins, they confuse and scare the animals and drive them into a narrow cove. Then the entrance is sealed shut by nets. The killers wait for a day, by which time the cetaceans would have calmed down and their hide softened. Then they begin their drunk-in-mirth spree of spearing the trapped animals, slashing their necks and stabbing their necks with metal rods. Reports indicate that the animals can take as much as 6 excruciating minutes as they thrash around and their life force slowly, torturously slips away. A lucky few are whisked away to dolphinariums across the globe and thus fetch big bucks. Does this seem like entertainment to any of you?

We screamed “Murder!!!” when the Jews were snuffed out by the millions in gas chambers during the Holocaust; when millions of Japanese were vaporized by Little Boy and Fat Man. But why do we stand mute spectators to this barbarism? “Official” statistics put the number of dolphins killed over the past two decades at 400,000. And imagine that this has been going on for more than 4 grand centuries. Do we have an answer?

Cut to Spain. Hordes of fanatic football fans swaying to the "dance" of their idols, intoxicatingly beautiful women and … dead bulls. Strong, beautiful and fine animals once - corpses with banderillas sticking out all over them in a queerly beautiful manner now. Bullfighting is something which the Spaniards consider their cultural identity. But seriously, is it worth it? In Spain, my head would be rolling on the ground by now. A Bullfight is an elaborate sequence of events that proceeds from start to end in three phases. The Matador waving his cape first annoys the bull and causes it to charge endlessly, futilely while the fleet-footed Matador keeps side-stepping the behemoth. This is called the “Matador’s Dance”. This continues till the bull gets tired. Then a pack of “Picadors” charge on horses towards the spent, harassed animal and stab it repeatedly with banderillas which are colourful wooden staffs with metal spikes at their ends. After the bull is barely able to lift itself after this torture of the worst degree, the Matador serves the coup de grâce with a sword, finally ending the animal’s wretched misery. And to top it, they claim that it’s an honour for the bulls to die in a bullfight. Did the bulls themselves say that? I wonder. Only the strongest bulls are chosen to die thus. Another thing about the fights is that the Matador and the Picadors have a protective shelter ready in the embarassing event of a bull getting an upper hand over them. That’s makes the event so unfair. And we thought the Matador was an epitome of masculinity.

We form committees to protect us from ourselves. The NHRC is an example. But who would protect these innocent animals from our evil hands? We are just powerless, pathetic creatures when it comes to raw brawn, who can’t last even a few minutes against any animal even half our size in a fair (read bare - handed) fight. But it’s that thing whirring in our heads that has made all the difference. Anything that stands as even a minor threat must be purged immediately. Must be expunged even if it is completely beyond the realm of rational thought. But apart from this selfish motive, don’t we need to kill them for fun, for food, to mollify our deities? This thought process has already cast so many species to the permanent waste-basket we call "Extinction" during Man’s ruthless reign over the planet. Many more will still be, of course unless we slam the brakes and introspect. In my opinion, we would have been better off roaming around in fig leaves, beating each other on our heads with clubs. We talk of democracy, of liberty, of the right to do, say anything as long as it doesn’t infringe upon the fundamental rights of another “free” individual. But we fail to extend that concept to the rest of the planet’s faunal diaspora. We poach elephants for their ivory and tigers for their beautiful hide. Such a pity human skin isn’t half as valuable. We encroach upon their homes and drive them into increasingly constricted spaces. We stone dogs and render them invalids if they so much as bark at us. Religion and tradition are strong reasons for us to sacrifice animals. But we fail to think if our God would really take it kindly to his beloved creations being slaughtered for his own sake. We kill them for our recreation, which just happens to be the most despicable of all reasons. Ok, reason is a very bad word to use in the present context, but my limited vocabulary can only afford as much. Nothing can be reason enough to kill anything. Why can’t we keep our hands to ourselves? Why can’t we spare the poor creatures who can’t even utter a word in their defence? The once-beautiful Eden has been reduced to an over-crowded wasteland. And we don’t seem to be able to share our increasingly limited resources with our co-inhabitants. Man’s selfishness has cost the planet enough. It’s high time we stopped and spared a thought for our kin. If nothing else, it’s a moral responsibility that we all are obliged to despatch.

Re-evaluating Males

The evening news paper carried a nasty shock for me. I read the headline and almost spilt half my tea over the new bed sheet. I thought of Mom. She would have been murderous. The headline which almost perpetrated my trip to the world beyond read - "Scientists discover method of generating sperm from bone marrow". As even the dumbest moron could infer, it meant that the male species could one day be rendered obsolete as far as the process of procreation was concerned. The lead scientist, just for the record, was a man. Ironic, isnt it? What kind of fool would do such a thing? Though considered impossible, choking oneself to death would have been easier I thought.

The article went onto ramble about how the experiment was conducted (as always) on rats. Poor things. And that it had been a "partial" success. Partial, because though foetuses were formed, none of them had the wherewithal to survive. All had perished. What followed was a small and seemingly innocuous comment by the scientist regarding how men could be removed from "the process" one day. And this comment had become fodder for a debate which lasted a couple of days and took center stage in the editorials. There were obviously dismayed and flabbergasted men who cried foul, who cribbed and wept about the possibility being an unethical one. And then there were women who surprisingly were joyous, tugging at the rope the other way saying that finally the "Era of Womankind" was about to be ushered in. What this female writer - whom I recognize as a regular contributor to the middle pages - argued was that there would no longer be violence, no more wars, no more gender discrimination and so on and so forth. She was of the opinion that men were useless anyway and hence she couldn’t have cared less for them. But then she didnt corroborate her claim about her perceived uselessness of men. It was a take it or leave it kind of comment. Men are useless. Period. Very clever, I thought.

She envisaged a Utopia where there were women and only women everywhere. She must have even gone to the extent of imagining one or two of our species pitiably chained in glass cases, kept as museum exhibits.

"Ma, whats that?"

"Sweetie, the board here reads - 'A long time ago, there used to exist a sub-class of the human species. They were called "Men". As you can see, they were markedly different from us physically. Even as regards their brain, this species was wired wierdly . Owing to their genetic inferiority, this subclass fell by the wayside on our evolutionary journey till date.'"

"Ewwww..... Isn't, it ugly!!!"

I shuddered at the thought. The cause for their joy seemed to be completely lost on me. After all, I thought, who in their right mind would go to an operation theatre for getting some bone marrow extracted instead of enjoying a romp between the sheets? I thought if the reverse were the case, if the scientist had found out a way of producing eggs from the same killjoy - bone marrow - I would have vehemently decried the venture. After all you have to be fair. But women it seems, arent as kind or thoughtful. They were gleefully flashing "V" signs and firing shots into the sky.

The implications seemed disastrous. Nowhere was a mention that only women would be born if this "path breaking" method was adopted. That raises a question - "What would happen to those unlucky souls born male?" Infanticide would witness a gender change, I thought. A new term would be coined and headlines screaming "Male infanticide on a high!" would be seen across tabloids the world over.

I folded the newspaper. Have to get married fast before those freaks report a success on humans I thought.

- Sooraj