Toothpaste fairy

Toothpaste Fairy
( From a blog post I had written 5:years back)

In the past we used to either grin and bear it or gnash our teeth in frustration. But these days we keep our mouth shut. India’s largest airline is remarkably punctual and we are spared of any nail biting suspense as to whether we will reach our destination in time. All criticism is silenced. It seems that the prime mover these days is not aviation fuel but something called “girl power”.

Well, it also appears now, that the said airline, in addition to reaching us to our destination on time, is also helping its passengers to put their best tooth forward.  Yesterday, in a flight that I took, after the sale of snacks and beverages was over, a slim tube of toothpaste was quietly placed in front of all passengers by the svelte cabin crew. These days, when the only thing gratis is water in paper cups, this is something to chew over. One could be excused if he thinks that this is yet another example of inane things indulged in by airlines, for example asking passengers to save their work before shutting down their laptops or for that matter letting all know about the hometowns of cabin crew and the pilot. But to the keen minds it would appear that there is more to it than meets the eye and a closer look could lead to answers to the question as to why cabin attendants have become purveyors of oral hygiene products?

Is this part of a brilliant marketing campaign crafted by some whiz kid MBA in an FMCG company with an objective to bite a greater chunk of the toothpaste market share? It could be, but why is the airline a partner in this? Is it just about an additional revenue stream for the airline or are there some deep and strategic synergies at play? Does the airline believe that the way to a passenger’s heart is through his mouth? Come to think of it, this could be a kind of a loyalty program without really having a regular loyalty program. Or does the airline have empirical research results to show a positive correlation between healthy teeth and ticket sales? It could also be hypothesized that by providing the toothpaste the airline is working on a long term strategy to prepare its passengers to tackle the leathery paratha served at cabin temperature.

Further rumination on this unusual gift to flyers resulted in the following plausible explanation. Providing the toothpaste was the last business transformation that had to be undertaken. Modern airlines have turned conventional wisdom on its head and come out with unique and innovative business models. Most of us would remember that airlines of yore were wont to providing candies to passengers, apparently to help them cope with popping ears during landing and take-off. These candies have done untold damage to the dental health of a generation of flyers. The toothpaste supply could well be an act of redemption on part of the said airline to undo the ill effects of past follies.

I Pink Therefore I Am

Of late, pink seems to be the only thing you can be certain of. Quite like the lyrics in this great song, pink seems to be a new obsession in India in these days. The color seems to be all around you now, appearing at the most unexpected places and situations.
The phenomena can be easily explained - it is mainly because Valentine's day is just round the corner. The patron saint of lovers seems to have been officially inducted into the Hindu pantheon of 330 million gods and his feast day celebrations now joins the ranks of Holi and Diwali. But do we really need so much of pink around us? Close to my office, a grotesquely large billboard of a shopping mall in a baby pink background has been recently put up. I can think of card and gift stores flooding their premises with pink colored mushy objects, I can even excuse jewelery stores and saree shops putting up pink colored posters - but ads of Dell laptops in pink font seems to be taking it a bit too far. What is completely inexplicable is why the Confederation of Indian Industry chose to have shades of pink in its newspaper ads. Where will this all end?
My relationship with pink is now at a very precarious balance and this onslaught may upset the whole thing anytime soon. Long back when I was a teen I was given a fuchsia colored T shirt as a gift by a relative. I was too polite to protest and had meekly worn that so as not to offend. Ever since then I have been trying to keep myself as far away from such clothing as possible. At times it has been losing battle. Somehow or other pink colored accouterments seems to be infiltrating my closet. The only thing that is holding the ground in Pink's favour at this time is salmon and rose wine.
All I can now say to pink is not to try its luck too hard.

Quick Gun - Woebegone!

Woebegone? Well not really! But that needs a more philosophical treatment and at the very least deserves a separate posting of its own. In this one I would rather focus on the "Quick Gun" part. If I have managed to keep the reader interested till this point - let me start by saying that I am suddenly finding myself in midst of allegorical references to and association with fast drawing and sharp shooting in the last 24 hours.
Yesterday morning started with this Times of India editorial that talks of politicians in our country who are drawing really fast and outgunning their opponents. An interesting perspective I would say, and had uncharacteristic levity for an editorial in a national daily. Later in the day, after a lazy mid morning breakfast I managed to catch the last scene of the classic spaghetti western The G, The B and the U on the TV. Before R could chide me for watching this movie for the nth time, I saw G drawing faster than B , shooting B, his hat and gun down a grave in a cemetery. Then with U's hands tied behind his back and head in a noose, G rides into the horizon with four sacks full of gold. Truly classic I would say and I could watch it n more times!
That brings me to the last and concluding part of this post where in later in the night I am the protagonist and true to my style I drew faster but probably the other guy won. Before the reader starts getting ideas I should clarify that the armament in question is housed in a leather wallet and not in a holster. Yes, I am referring the piece of plastic that claims to give priceless joy to its users. The reader is requested to turn her mind away from scenes of desolate desert cemeteries to scenes in restaurant tables when the wine has been drunk, the food is past the oesophagus and table is being cleared. Now here is where the script has a twist. When it comes to the part where the plastic needs to be drawn out, the script has been repeating with exact precision in my case since the day I started earning. I have a unique record of consistently winning the draw. Now there are situations where the script clearly identifies who needs to draw the plastic out - but these situations do not need a fast draw contest. I am talking of those situations when things are not that clear and easy. These are times when the dining encounters are not planned in advance and each gunslinger in the party has enough firepower behind the plastic. At these times, when bill is presented, the suspense may surpass a Mexican Standoff. The question is then who draws first.
In all these years I have not been able to figure out what winning is and what is losing. Yesterday night I found myself in a similar duel - and I drew faster!

Tale of Two Cities

This tale is about Melbourne and Melbourne. The former is the one in Fl and the latter is in VIC. I had set foot on the former about 14 years back and I am just back from a vacation from the latter. Fourteen years back I had found myself constantly correcting people about the continent I was visiting. It was indeed surprising to most that there indeed existed a Mel in Fl. It was kind of taken for granted that Mel meant Mel, VIC.

Work had taken me to Mel, Fl, a sleepy town on the Space Coast, almost a Podunk. Mel, Fl boasted of a Hooters on Hwy 192, some of the large chain retailers, the usual BoA branch and a downtown that Shaq could have covered in two strides. Still, it was in the Sunshine State - a mere hour's drive from Orlando, and you could lunch in South Beach starting after a light breakfast in Mel. I was on my first trip to the western hemisphere, and despite staying in one of those nondescript motels run by desis near a freeway exit, I wasn't cribbing. I survived my first night by dining on a microwaved burrito bought from a 7-11 gas station across the road. I managed to stay on for a few more weeks and over the next few years made three more trips to Mel, Fl. The last of these was the longest, almost a year, and R was with me this time. We were young and happy with most things in life - including Mel, Fl. While we weren't sad to leave Mel after a year's stay, we almost immediately started missing Mel and Fl, the beaches, sunshine and parks.

The trip to Mel, VIC was most unexpected. R was there on work and I am glad that she kind of insisted that I take a week off to join her there. Last minute ticketing and a visa ensured that I could spend a week with R in Mel before she got back home. Things were apparently not going well for desis Down Under with quite a few apparently getting bashed up and one was even done in just on the day of my travel. Parents ,friends and TV channles gave grim warnings and on top of that there was sarkari advisory for desi students. Having just finished reading the LOTR, I almost felt like Frodo adventuring into Mordor. I was almost glad when I found that the cab that I got on the taxi rank in Tullamarine was driven by a Sardar. R was smiling from ear to ear when I landed up at her Serviced Apartment on Toorak Road. I survived the first night on Fried Rice and Salmon that R had cooked. We didn't come across any Orcs in Mel VIC and Arnab Goswami's histrionics soon faded from memory. We were older, wiser and much harder to please now than what we were 14 years back. But Mel, VIC did not dissapoint. The city, the weather, food and wine kept me in fine fettle. R used to be in office during the day, but the long summer evenings ensured that we had enough time for leisure after office hours on the banks of Yarra.
Its almost two weeks now that we are back and memories of Mel, VIC still quite fresh. Even as we snacked on dhoklas today evening, R spoke of the cooked Tuna Sushi rolls that she used to buy on Collins. As of now, the score is advantage VIC. Spencer Street has displaced Nasa Blvd , Sushi rolls have moved in and driven out Popeye's biscuits and Southern Fried Chicken.

Borrowed Idea?

Tolkien seems to be inspiring an ever increasing number of people. I am the latest addition to his huge fan following, having spent the first day of this year finishing one of the best books that I have read so far. I recently found out from a cousin that her younger son Bilbo has indeed been named after the venerable ring bearer , my brother-in-law being a huge fan of Tolkien.

While I continue to find books, movies and stuff that definitely seem to be inspired by Tolkien, and that includes books by J. K. Rowling amongst others, the latest entry in that set is the recent Idea Cellular advertisement. I discovered this as I was driving to office this week and as I take the bend in a flyover near my office, the aforementioned ad jumps out in front of me in a huge billboard. Sirji seems to be doing a Treebeard here.

Not very original I would say - but Sirji is possibly the only Entish looking actor in Bollywood - there seems to be an association here. In most Hindi flicks these days, the leading Bollywood ladies look taller the men opposite them.

Twenty Ten

One of my favourite newspaper columnist said that there is a cool ring to it, and I agree with her. It seems we have been talking about this particular year for quite some time now. Targets had been set in companies for achieving some desired objective by 2010. Nifty slogans had been crafted and drilled deep down the heads of employees. It seems that in the last few years we were always trying to reach somewhere by TT. We now have just 364 more days to make it happen!
Also - "Twenty Ten" conjures up vision of Cricket in its new Avataar - "T 20" and along with it images of fast paced , action packed, adrenalin pumping drama. It looks like that the markets also have started warming themselves up in preparation for TT and the indices are resembling Tendulkar' score.

Cool definitely it is - in more ways than one. Today I am reading blog posts about the controversy over our Mantriji's Twitter posts. Boy - have we reached somewhere! BTW - another female columnist recently described the Hon. Mantriji as "dishy". Twenty years back I was lying on my hostel room bed reading a novel written by this guy. By any stretch of imagination I couldn't have imagined this situation.
Ten years back R & I got our first phone connection at home - we paid a huge premium to the sarkari phone company to get something called a Tatkal connection. Before that we had to walk down to the corner kirana to make STD calls home. Today R & I Skyped, SMSed, Facebooked, Instant Messaged and called on each other's cell - all across continents.

Having said all that, certain things are still the same. Mother made "Baigan Bharta" today and it was same as she used to make it when I was a teenager. I didn't reach out to some folks today - not because I couldn't Skype, SMS, Facebook, Instant Message, or call on their cells - but because I couldn't make myself to do so. They are definitely reachable as long as I want to reach out and as long as they want to be reached out to. I haven't changed and so haven't others.

Well - introspection over - now how do I spend the rest of the first evening of the year? R suggested that I get a good bottle of Red. I decided against it. After writing this post, I would rather go back to the big fat Red colored book that I have been reading for the past few weeks. Popularity of that book hasn't waned in over fifty years.

Happy TT to all readers of this post! Hope to write more often this year.

Elevator Pitch

Elevators have of late become quite an integral part of my life. There's nothing unusual about this - since I like millions of others stay in a multi-storey apartment building and my place work is on the top floor of another. This venerable piece of machinery , that automates vertical displacement, controls my access to the outside physical world and enables me to earn my daily bread.

The first 22 years of my life was remarkably elevator free. There were no buildings taller than 3 storeys high in the town I grew up in. Exposure to elevators was through movies like The Towering Inferno. The institute where I studied post high school had one elevator in the main building lobby and was hardly used by students. The building had four floors and we were young and strong enough to ignore the presence of this one elevator.

Slowly as the years have passed, elevators have silently but surely started assuming an increasingly important role in my life. When I started my working life, I shared a chummery in a ten storey residential apartment in suburban Mumbai with 3 other colleagues. When some obscenities were scratched on the elevator walls, I was told that the needle of suspicion pointed towards us bachelors in the chummery. We were quite relieved when a young teenage boy ultimately confessed to have authored the inscriptions.

Elevators have of late also become a laboratory that tests my social skills. Sharing a confined space with acquaintances, familiar faces and strangers does become awkward for me since I am not very good at small talk. What is the best way to handle these brief meeting that lasts till one reaches the destination floor? Should I just greet and smile or do I keep silent? Should I ask the accompanying kid a silly question? Often I end up looking down towards the floor and noticing footwear or I blankly stare at the buttons and the digital displays and pretend to read the safety instructions. These are situations I think where an average American would excel. They usually greet or acknowledge complete strangers (and awkward aliens! ) and can easily start some banter with almost anyone. Indians, and especially people from my native state, are possibly the worst I have seen. Well, there are worse social faux pas that can happen in an elevator - like what Jim Carey's character did in the movie Liar Liar and I am glad I haven't had to face such a situation yet.

Elevators have also started figuring in some technology related conversations I have been having with some of my more geeky colleagues. When we wait for the elevators to stop at our floor, especially during the rush hours in the morning and lunch time, we discover erratic and unexplained behaviour of the gang of elevators. The conversation starts with bugs in software, moves on to real-time system design , formal specifications and more such esoteric topics. The conversation ends when we finally get an entry to the hallowed space.

In the last few weeks I have found myself on multiple occasions using my car key to press the floor buttons instead of touching the thing with my finger. Is a fear of getting some germs or infection working at the back of my mind? Am I protecting the finger which I know will get used subsequently to pick my olfactory organ? Have I inherited some of the traits of my late grandmother? Whatever be the reason, I am also getting a feeling that I should start treating this life supporting machinery with much more respect. Like the business man in G. K. Chesterton's story - The Angry Street , I must acknowledge the machine's role in my life and start treating it more like a human than a metal box with a motor. Lest, after years of indifference and neglect, it decides to become very angry indeed , and start climbing past the top floor, all the way up like the escalator that carried Tom to the golden gates of the Heavenly Express.