Quick quantitative estimations

Some months ago I wrote a blog post on "Testing the numbers, on the fly". Well, yesterday I was flying - literally - out of Frankfurt and saw a sign that said, "New A Plus Pier in Terminal 1 under construction". It went on to say that the pier could handle 6 million passengers a year and was 180,000 square meters in floor area.

It's interesting to know this ratio of passengers to floor area, I thought.

Then I thought, hmm... does this ratio make financial sense? So I began to guesstimate.

Let's say that real estate here is about the cost of real estate where I live. At bulk discounted rates, it might be 100 dollars per square foot, plus minus a bit. Or 1000 dollars per square meter approximately.

So the new pier is 180 million dollars in investment. 30 dollars per passenger.

For a payback period of 5 years, you need 6 dollars per passenger per year - probably taken out of retail concessions in the West. But Indian airport retail doesn't do well yet.

Well, 6 dollars is equal to Rs. 300. Then it hit me - the airport tax at Delhi airport used to be Rs. 300. And I smiled.

Of course the calculations won't be exact. But it is always fun to get close.

On Indians and projects

When asked what type of management education India needs, I often say, "Most importantly, we need to teach people how to run projects - how to break the work into significant tasks, how to assign responsibilities and set timelines, and how to report consistently on those timelines, mitigate risks etc. I don't want MBAs with bookish knowledge, I want someone who can really get stuff done. And much of it boils down to planning and executing projects."

And I have blogged about it here and here and elsewhere.

Well, this week I am in Europe, mortified as the news of the CommonWealth Games dominates newspapers and television channels here. It even comes up in business meetings.

All because of very shoddy planning. I really think that corruption is a somewhat separate issue.

Yet I also want to add this (if only to calm myself) - yes, China can put up taller buildings than India can, better buildings than India can, and can put them up in a planned way. But when it comes to software, Indian project planning is as good as you can get anywhere in the world. There are two Indias, and software is part of the new India...

The role of testing in education

Shri Kapil Sibal is moving towards making school education more "holistic" in India - an effort most of us agree with - but he is also moving to reduce drastically the number, type and intensity of tests.

Honestly, that scares me. Mindless testing is, well, mindless, but are we throwing out the baby with the bathwater? The positive global identity of India in recent times has been shaped by the tens of thousands of analytically strong Indians who, despite a crushing lack of exposure in their homeland (to technology, to processes, to reliable electricity and running water in their homes), are able to tackle, say, the IT problems of the world because they have the analytical skills to wrap their minds around them.

Interestingly, new research appears to underscore the importance of testing. In an article in the New York Times titled "Forget What You Know About Good Study Habits" (incidentally the most emailed article on that site for several days running), Benedict Carey describes some of these experiments. A portion of the article is reproduced below.


(C)ognitive scientists see testing itself — or practice tests and quizzes — as a powerful tool of learning, rather than merely assessment. The process of retrieving an idea is not like pulling a book from a shelf; it seems to fundamentally alter the way the information is subsequently stored, making it far more accessible in the future.


Dr. Roediger uses the analogy of the Heisenberg uncertainty principle in physics, which holds that the act of measuring a property of a particle alters that property: “Testing not only measures knowledge but changes it,” he says — and, happily, in the direction of more certainty, not less.
In one of his own experiments, Dr. Roediger and Jeffrey Karpicke, also of Washington University, had college students study science passages from a reading comprehension test, in short study periods. When students studied the same material twice, in back-to-back sessions, they did very well on a test given immediately afterward, then began to forget the material.
But if they studied the passage just once and did a practice test in the second session, they did very well on one test two days later, and another given a week later.
“Testing has such bad connotation; people think of standardized testing or teaching to the test,” Dr. Roediger said. “Maybe we need to call it something else, but this is one of the most powerful learning tools we have.”

Another article regarding the Chinese emphasis on testing can be found here. Chinese students are, perhaps consequently, extremely good at maths and analysis. The author, Elisabeth Rosenthal, quotes a Professor Cizek who specializes in educational measurement and evaluation:


“What’s best for kids is frequent testing, where even if they do badly, they can get help and improve and have the satisfaction of doing better,” he said. “Kids don’t get self-esteem by people just telling them they are wonderful.”


Testing in the Indian education system definitely needs to become more feedback oriented, rather than marks oriented. That said, I would rather that we in India not give up on the academic rigor that testing alone can bring. In my personal opinion, we should not destroy the existing framework unless we are sure we know what we are doing. Even the US is moving back towards more testing, somewhat regretting its rather relaxed approach in the past towards school education. In terms of academic rigor, I'd rather India continue to refine its own approach than follow the (old) US schooling model blindly.

By the way, one model I really admire is the German model for craftspeople. Having suffered at the hands of incompetent electricians, plumbers, carpenters and masons (among several other trades) and seen the supreme ability of their German counterparts, I can confidently say that India needs something like this desperately. No one will dispute that in this area, we can only improve. Why aren't we spending more time on this instead?

How to end a recession

Of late, there has been considerable debate - especially in the US and Europe - about government deficit spending to hit one's way out of a recession. A little like a side batting second in a one-day cricket match with few wickets left may choose to throw caution to the winds and go after the bowling, somewhat counter-intuitively.

Some left-leaning economists like Paul Krugman strongly advocate such spending, pointing out that Japan's tightening its purse-strings probably deepened that country's problems.

In fierce opposition, right-leaning economists point out that Germany has remained fiscally responsible and is doing well, while countries like Greece have had free-spending governments and have been the worst hit.

While reading yet one more article on this by Krugman in the NY Times, a thought dawned on me and I posted a comment (which I hope Krugman read!)

It seems to me that recovery from a major slump is ideally built around a theme of some sort, that businesses and individuals can rally around. Perhaps the theme may or may not involve major deficit spending.

A world war, a historic decision by businesses and trade unions to be flexible*, an appeal to the national character, an astrological prediction of a bountiful year, even a world championship win in a popular sport - in different contexts and cultures these could all be themes that pull an economy out of recession.

*as in Germany

You can see this in India. A lot of the richer people believe India is shining, so it is not doing badly overall. Currently growth seems to be a seriously lagging indicator of the stockmarket indices, rather than the other way around.

In the US, people and businesses are currently pessimistic, so the situation is worse than it might have been. There are fundamental problems - primarily too little genuine education and too much soundbite TV - but these are not insurmountable.

Perhaps the US should have been allowed to win the soccer World Cup?

Dreamland: At the library

I was self-righteously upset. I went up to the librarian. "Ma'am, the books are not where they should be..." And then, "I admit once or twice I myself have put books back in slightly the wrong place ... but at least I have always felt guilty about it afterwards."

To my surprise she did not see my complaint as an accusation and said, "I totally agree. I can't tell you how important that is."

Taken off guard, I looked at her face, thin and drawn with horned black glasses. I wondered who she thoguht was responsible for the problem - wasn't it her responsibility? "We have such a beautiful library here otherwise. But if you can't find the books, all that money is wasted." And as I said it I saw how well lit and sunny and airy the library was. Airy, yes, that was the word. "All that money is wasted", I said. I was about to add "and there is then nothing left of it for everyone" but held back - it seemed somehow too money-minded and suddenly I thought as well, "I don't know what a librarian makes. Maybe she doesn't make much."

"No, I totally agree", she said, and then she walked ahead of me into the bookshelves to show me something. Her clothes were all white, but a white that was as though seen through a slight fog... a foggy white.

She stood at a bookshelf and said, "For example, this book here has been filed under both Airlines and Section 1.4.02". I marveled just a little at how amazing library systems were and I reached out and picked up a random book.

It was a photocopied book, and I opened it at random to find the chapter title, "Don Bosco School". It presumably was an alumni list. Must be Calcutta - that's the big Don Bosco. But I looked a little closer and it said "Ahmedabad". "This is the alumni directory", she said almost as I figured it out myself. "It also has the listing for Don Bosco Indore..."

>>>>>>>>>

That's just the transcript of a dream I had a few weeks ago and wrote down minutes after waking up from it when it started fraying. Dreaming is an incredible activity. Many dreams are more vividly experienced than real life itself is.

The stitching together of so many subjects breathlessly - in just a few seconds of perceived action - is also fascinating. The library (I haven't really spent time in a library for more than a decade), the photocopied books (something from our IIT days in the early 1990s), the reference to airlines (I take care of the Lufthansa account at Nagarro), the reference to Indore and Ahmedabad (the Proton locations), the reference to Don Bosco (where I went to school till 1989).

The dream plays out like a story created deliberately and rapidly by some devilish genius... At each step the slightest of cues are used to switch context.

Dreams must play some critical role. It is difficult to believe that they are just by-products of our mind. If they are meant to remind us of memories in order to refresh them, then they must be quite a sophisticated evolutionary achievement.

The vividness of the dream of course can also make you question the reality of perceived reality. The only fundamentally different thing about reality is that it follows more detailed laws that don't change.

For example, you wake up day after day to the same wife. :-)

Without comment

Bhopal - learning lessons or finding scapegoats?

I support the right of the Indian judicial system to try Warren Anderson, the CEO of Union Carbide at the time of the Bhopal gas disaster.

At the same time, I think prosecution of Anderson now will be quite pointless and is not a priority. And the case against him is weak.

The media and Parliament frenzy around Anderson is mostly a waste of time.


The context

Folks, think about it. As per my quick research, at the time of the disaster Union Carbide ran over 500 installations in 130 countries, with about $9 billion in sales. Less than 2% of sales came from the Indian subsidiary UCIL, which was listed in India and in which 49% was held by investors other than Union Carbide (including individual Indian investors). Bhopal was only one of the dozen factories of UCIL in India.

So Warren Anderson is the CEO of a US company which is in 130 countries. It is invested in an Indian company along with many Indian shareholders, whose revenues are less than 2% of the group revenues. Water gets into a tank and triggers a disaster, and we are baying for his blood?


A culture of laxity

For better or for worse, we in India have a culture of laxity when it comes to safety. Perhaps it comes from a certain spiritual acceptance of the impermanence of life. Perhaps we are just a poor country and do not have the luxury to worry about low probability events.

Whatever it is, we leave wires exposed, drains uncovered, critical equipment poorly maintained. With us it is a way of life.

To illustrate this point, I searched the web to answer the following questions: When did the last person die in Delhi by electrocution due to careless wiring? When did the last child die by falling into a manhole? When did the last Indian Air Force MiG 21 crash?

I have the following results from the last few days. [Note: This article was written on August 11.]

August 11, Times of India

NEW DELHI: A six-year-old boy died on Tuesday morning after falling into an open manhole in Shaheen Bagh, Jamia Nagar. Three hours after he fell in, Adil Raza's body was spotted by children playing on the street, after which labourers who had been working nearby pulled the body out of the manhole. The boy's body was found 20 feet away from the manhole he had fallen into.

(While searching for this, I came across another tragic story from April, where a 10 year old boy died after falling into a 35 deep manhole. Rescuers tried to reach him but the power supply failed. They tried using a generator but - rather typically - it did not work either.)

August 10, Sify News

Man electrocuted in Delhi

A man was electrocuted after he came in contact with a live wire dangling from an electric pole in northwest Delhi, police said Tuesday. Ajay Gupta, a 32-year-old auto-rickshaw driver, had stopped his vehicle near a pit full of water by the roadside in Hyderpur area of northwest Delhi Monday and as he stepped out, he received a shock, a police official said.

and

August 8, Asian Defence

MiG-21 Fighter Jet of Indian Air Force Crashes

A MiG-21 fighter jet of the Indian Air Force (IAF) crashed in the eastern Indian state of Assam, local media reported.The pilot lost control and the aircraft fell on a paddy field some 25 km from the city of Tezpur on Saturday.

Remember "Rang De Basanti"? The story continues.

Such events occur ALL the time. We are inured to them by now.

I can understand how Jagmohan felt when he talked in the Lok Sabha about the Uphaar fire tragedy:

"This is really in my view not only a civic issue but also a civilisational issue. We commit a large number of crimes by omission. This is an omission. Can we find any other (place) which is disorderly, disorganised, chaotic, without any regard for rules and regulations? It shows that we are a dehumanised civilisation." [Source: Wikipedia]

I do not think we are a "dehumanized civilisation" but you will agree there is some truth in his words. The Bhopal disaster was quite likely a result of sloppy maintenance and upkeep, in the normal Indian tradition.


Low value of human life

The government sued Union Carbide for $3.3 billion. In the end, Union Carbide paid $470 million in a settlement negotiated by the Supreme Court even though technically its liability for its subsidiary and technological partner UCIL was unclear. This number was indeed laughably low by US standards. But it was in line with compensation awarded routinely in India where the value of human life remains low.

These days, with the media spotlight, the ex-gratia payments made by the government have started climbing up. When there is a spectacular train wreck, for example, the Railway Minister may loudly announce Rs. 3.5 lakhs or 4 lakhs or 5 lakhs for each person killed and 1 lakh for those injured. But even as late as 2002 an Indian Railways circular announced that:

The amount paid as ex-gratia relief payable to the dependents of dead or injured passengers involved in train accidents or untoward incidents as defined under Sections 124 and 124-A should be as under:-
(i) In case of death :Rs. 15,000/-
(ii) In case of grievous injury (Irrespective of the period of hospitalisation) :Rs. 5,000/-
(iii) In case of simple injuries :Rs. 500/-

And even today, when there is no media attention, ex-gratia payments of compensation are miserly.

In comparison, Union Carbide paid $470 million in 1984 dollars, which is equivalent in buying power to more than double the dollars today. The total payment in today's rupees is Rs. 4500 crores. If you take the toll as 20,000 killed and 250,000 grievously injured and 250,000 with simple injuries, and the ratio of death to injury compensation as in the railways case, you get - in today's rupees - Rs. 13,000 for simple injuries, Rs. 1.3 lakhs for grievous injuries, and about Rs. 4 lakhs for deaths. While not generous, it compares well with Indian government payments till very recently.

This is a macabre calculation and human life is priceless, but I just wanted to show that the Supreme Court settlement was probably not a sellout.


Slow relief effort

There is no law that only Union Carbide money can be used to help the victims. Yet the government's payment of compensation has been slow.

The first ex-gratia payment announced was only Rs. 1500. Till 1992, almost half the claimants for compensation had not been medically examined. The final sum paid for each death was less than Rs. 1 lakh. Even today the ground around the site is laden with chemicals.

Worse, many factories all over India continue to spew poison into wells and rivers. The air in our cities is noxious beyond all health norms. It is not clear that we are safer today against a catastrophic industrial accident than we were in 1984.


What about individual responsibility in government?

Of late, our courts have been more aggressive in fixing individual responsibility for accidents (e.g. in the Uphaar case), which is good to an extent (e.g. building managers are now a little more serious about fire safety). But the the government itself often gets away scot-free.

For example, did any senior government person go to jail for the string of errors of omission that led to 173 people dead and 300+ injured on 26/11/2008? Did anyone get arrested for not planning a serious anti-terrorist force in Mumbai, or for the 10 hours it took for the NSG to get to Mumbai (by road from Manesar to Delhi airport and by bus from Mumbai airport to the site!), or for the fact that NSG commandos were fighting in the dark without night vision devices? The world watched as the fatal lack of training and preparation of India's security forces unfolded on live TV and people paid with their lives. The FBI's investigator had some chilling commentary on the amateurism of the Indian security establishment.

I shudder to think what will happen if we ever get into a real war, how many of our soldiers' lives will be needlessly lost due to lack of basic equipment and real training.

The point

I started this post by saying that "I support the right of the Indian judicial system to try Warren Anderson, the CEO of Union Carbide at the time of the Bhopal gas disaster. At the same time, I think prosecution of Anderson now will be quite pointless and is not a priority. And the case against him is weak. The media and Parliament frenzy around Anderson is mostly a waste of time."

But I want to make a broader point. The "soundbite media" is very dangerous. I think the United States today has been hollowed out by the soundbite-driven media to just a shadow of its former self. I frankly think that the media is the dominant disease that has crippled America. And I don't really know what the solution is. It will always be easier to watch a sensationalist TV "news" show than read the Economist or The New York Times or to listen to the BBC World News.

So as a young person, you must be skeptical of the populist noises coming from the media and politicians of all stripes. Subscribe to sober media. Think critically for yourself. Look at the facts carefully.

As a US Senator nicely observed, "Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not (to) his own facts."

And the Bhopal disaster is not about Warren Anderson. It is about us.

The economist and the 100 dollar bill

Yesterday's Financial Times had an amusing little reference to the "apocryphal economics professor who left a $100 bill lying on a busy street, figuring that it would have been picked up already if it were real"!

Even before you think of starting a company and consider whether you are well placed to do it, you have to predict how long the sectoral opportunity will last before others pick it up. It is a very challenging question.

When Indian companies got into IT services in a big way, they were pilloried for providing a commodity service and not being in products and were widely expected to plateau in a few years. That hasn't happened yet!

Then came the turn of the BPOs - everyone was highly enthusiastic. But the golden opportunity lasted only a few years before famine set in and took out the weaker players. Still, some companies did exceedingly well and on hindsight, it was silly for people like me to sit on the sidelines arguing theoretically that BPO services were a pure commodity.

When we started SupplyChainge, I would go to bed each night sick with worry that someone else would "discover" our key insight and blow us out of the water. I was as wrong as I could have been - it has taken a decade for the "lead time optimization" or "flexible supply planning" ideas we espoused to start to become mainstream.

So perhaps the final analysis is this: In the long run, everything is a commodity and we are all dead, but in the short run, there is money to be made off sectoral opportunities. When the tide comes in, even the dead fish rise, said Hemingway.

When the tide goes out, you find out who is not wearing any clothes, said Warren Buffett, but if you are comfortable in your state of (un)dress you should perhaps not be too nervous about taking the tide at the flood.

For as Brutus say in Julius Caesar:

There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

***

Yet as regards macro-economic trends, I feel attracted to the mindset of that professor. I seldom believe anyone can be wiser than the broad market, especially when it is going up. I feel that all positive information must already be factored in. (Yeah, I'm an optimist.) And when I see a sustained broad surge in share prices or property values that seems to prove my caution wrong, I become even more skeptical.

Luckily I have never been energetic enough to try to (legally) short the rising market, else I might have lost a lot of money! Because as we have seen over the last several years, bubbles can become VERY big before they burst.

The only time I have felt confident about predicting a big surge in the broad market was in the early 2000s. Each time I returned to India from the US I saw such dramatic and fundamental changes that I took a small bet on the broad market that proved prescient or lucky, although true to form my enthusiasm turned to skepticism as the markets continued to rise.

Very small events and very big happenings appear to be difficult to predict. There seems better predictability somewhere in between for some reason.

"Truth and oil will out"

A few days ago, talking about how people always get what they deserve, my father said, "Truth and oil will out".

The phrase resounded with me. It sounded very poetic and accurate...and faintly familiar though later I could not find it even on Google. I interpreted the oil part of the analogy as "If you crush oilseeds long enough, the oil will drip out and, yes, it IS hard work".

But as I write this, it strikes me that the oil this refers to may be petroleum, since my father is a petroleum geologist. Perhaps this is an oilman's phrase.

Be that as it may, coming back to the underlying theme - truth is very prone to coming out.

So when you are a company, it is sometimes easier to actually change your products or services or operations to conform to a truth that you can live with rather than convince everyone around you about a non-existent truth. In the long run truth will out. (Although it is, unhappily, true that in the long run we are also all dead.)

I have realized over time that established companies can more easily speak the truth, even if they choose not to. It is easier for an established company to say that it doesn't do something well but it will fix that or that a product has defects but, yes, it will fix them. There is always a cushion - of cash, of goodwill, and so on - that an established company has. If there is a failure, it is easier for an established company to say "mea culpa" and make the right noises and get away with it.

It is far more difficult to speak the truth when you are a small company angling for new business, or an aspiring company shooting for the stars. Speaking the truth is mostly about admitting weakness, and any sign of weakness may become a deal-breaker if you are not fully established.

I have lived this dilemma some years ago at our software product company, SupplyChainge. Each time a customer would ask, "Does your software do xyz?" I would honestly answer "No, but it could in 2 weeks!" This was in the US and mostly the customer was unimpressed. Finally, a very senior and experienced sales colleague gave me this tongue-in-cheek advice, "If you are 100% confident that you can have that feature up and running within six months - the very minimum time it will take for the customer to buy your product - then in this software industry at least you are not lying if you say you already have that feature!"

Anecdotally, this tradition dates back at least to Bill Gates and MSDOS. I later learnt through observation that many software product customers *expect* it and if you are being very factual what you say gets discounted anyway.

(In balance, I must also say that I also have some friends who think that all software product salespeople are cheap liars.)

Incidentally, most people with international experience will agree that it is most difficult to admit weakness in US and UK sales situations. In Europe, the Nordics are perhaps more forgiving than, say, Germany, although I am not so sure about this. And Asia is even more forgiving but if and only if you belong to some inner circle.

Some of the things I said today during a sales meeting in Copenhagen would have completely destroyed a typical meeting in the US. It took me several years to realize that disarming honesty doesn't really disarm in typical US sales situations. Gandhiji, with his mixed and changing messages and periods of self-doubt, would have been labeled a crank. Similarly, I could not have said these things had Nagarro not been more or less an established company by now.

Changing contexts, in non-business life too, I find it simpler to tell the truth as much as possible. If the truth cannot be told for any overriding reason (e.g. adhering to the dictum that "satyam bruyaat, priyam bruyaat, maa bruyaat satyam apriyam") it is best to tell a story that is as close to the truth as possible. The great thing about a true story is that it HAPPENED, so every bit of evidence taken in or out of context from what actually happened, every sampling of the multitudinous ripples of effects that the event sent out, will all be completely CONSISTENT. No matter how odd any fact may seem, if the WHOLE truth surrounding the fact is considered its various aspects will be completely consistent, by definition.

I love this simple quality of truth. "Truth and oil will out". I likes.

Defining your region of excellence

A business benefits by positioning itself in an established business category - potential customers can easily understand its offerings and business model. So today if you say you are offer "outsourced IT services with a global delivery model", everyone immediately knows what you do. Similarly, if you say you are trying to start an "online social network", you have conveyed a lot with just those three words.

On the flip side, by being part of a well-established category, your business ends up herded together with all the other players in that category. A balance is perhaps ideal: one must be different but not scarily different.

Yet far too many small businesses are so busy with their day to day operations that they do not figure out how to position themselves uniquely. It would be good for these companies if their management could spend a day or two to come up with the "one-liner" that expresses their positioning with respect to customer needs and shows how they are (or want to be) different from their competition. This is also the concept of a Unique Selling Proposition or USP, which appears to date from the 1940s. Ideally every employee of the company must know this one-liner USP and understand what it means in terms of his or her job.

So how do you go about choosing a USP for your business? Some questions you may ask yourself are:

1. What is the biggest pain point for my customers, and how are we better than my competitors in solving it?
2. When customers compliment us, what are they complimenting us for?
3. When customers complain about the competition (or when I talk down the competition), what are the chief shortcomings aired?
4. What are our best people good at?

... and so on.

Such a methodical approach is also important beyond the one-liner. Remember, the customer prefers to buy not just from any adequate company, but from a company that is the *best* for her. So when selling to a customer, you may have to:

1. Find out who the competition is,
2. Choose that subset region of requirements where you can realistically argue that you are better than all the competition, and then
3. Try to convince the customer that excellence in this region is very important for her.

For example, if you were Nagarro, an India-centric IT services company, you could possibly define your region of strength as the intersection of a) between 500 and 1000 people in size, AND b) working equally for both software product companies as well as leading corporates. In this smaller niche, Nagarro is probably number 1! Suddenly your job as a Nagarro salesperson is easier - you have a good chance with all those customers for whom this might be an important combination of requirements.

At Proton, we set out to create "Positive responsible professionals". We were well aware that our typical student might not be the best at, for example, hardcore analytics. So we decided to create MBAs who, while being acceptable in other areas, were second to none in positive outlook, taking responsibility and professional conduct. In this smaller region of an employer's search space, we believe that the school can be number 1. And we believe that we can convince employers that for many jobs, this is the most important combination of attributes that they require. As employers ourselves, we know we'd give anything for a positive young man or woman who knows how to take responsibility and knows how to get things done.

I typically end up needing two or three requirements to meaningfully bound the region of excellence in which a small company can credibly claim to be the very best (in the Nagarro example, 1. Size, 2. Diversity of client portfolio). Perhaps a larger, better-known company can make do with just one. And beyond three, I think you start to lose the customer's attention. I find all this quite interesting as an exercise in rhetoric.

Finally, not every attempt at differentiation comes from the heart. Some companies are a little cynical in their attempts at differentiation. They may pick points of difference that are obviously quite irrelevant and yet customers may be quite willing to be taken in by them. I have tried hard to understand this phenomenon - my best guess is that the customers are so happy to be "intellectually" engaged in absorbing or evaluating the claims that they forget to consider whether what is claimed should indeed be important to them!

This morning, I was shaving in my bathroom while outlining this blogpost in my mind, when I noticed that the bottle of hair product on my shelf announced in large font, "NO ALCOHOL!" It is probably a perfect example of misleading differentiation. Why should I as a consumer care if the product contains alcohol or not, especially if I am not meant to drink it? But somehow that confident declaration probably makes some consumers say, "These guys are making such a big deal about this alcohol thing - it must be important." And they presumably reach for their wallets.

It is at points like these, in my opinion, that marketing - somewhat inevitably - goes from being a useful concept for creating variety and innovation in the marketplace and crosses over to the Dark Side!

It happens only in India

A Meerut couple eloped and was murdered by the girl's family. The police found the young man's body and arrested the girl's father and brother.

Subsequently, the girl's brother confessed to the murder. The press picked up the juicy story.

But then the 'murdered' young man and woman walked into a police station at Muzaffarnagar!!!

The implications on how the police works are mind-boggling.

The top 18 things that a businessman should know

I'm returning to this blog after a long period of inactivity. Inactivity on the blog, that is - in real life the degree of activity around me has soared like Delhi's blazing heat in this, the hottest early summer in decades.

Manu, Varun and I have been designing the Family-Managed Business program that we are going to launch shortly. We have been thinking that in this program we will focus on a different aspect of family-managed entrepreneurial business each month. Thus the 18 month course will allow us to dive into 18 different things, which should together provide a practical and comprehensive 360 degree view.

To decide what these top 18 things should be, we first drew up independent lists. When I compared my list with Prof. Varun's this morning, I was not surprised to see that there was a 90% overlap. (I haven't compared it with Manu's yet.)

This then is my informal list, in no particular order, focused solely on practical topics for the small-scale or medium-scale business:

Defining your narrower market niche (in which you are THE best)

Developing a vision for your business (this is closely tied to the first point)

Leveraging the power of Internet marketing (using websites, SEO, SEM, social networking, blogs, etc.)

Getting the most from real world marketing (ranging from smarter business communication to cultivating newsmedia for PR)

Conceptualizing, planning and executing initiatives (project management)

Scaling an organization through modularization and processes

Understanding accounting and tax optimization

Understanding people and what they are good at, developing reporting systems

Leveraging business IT

Understanding business law, contracts and litigation

Managing your time and your mind

Understanding quality

Maximizing profit and cash flow, not just sales

Balancing family relations and the business

Professionalizing the family business without affecting the bottomline

Learning the art of selling and negotiation

Managing business risk

Handling the regulatory environment

Most of this I learned by trial and error and had we been taught this through our formal education, we would have done better and gone further.

Anything I left out?

Acceptance vs. Striving

These days I often find myself seeing human issues in the basic framework of acceptance vs. striving - should one accept something external as it is or should one strive aggressively to change it?

I was reminded of this by talking to Hulesh Sahu this week. Hulesh is a student of the Fall 2008 Indore batch. When Hulesh joined PROTON, he was one of the two students I remember who appeared to be most overwhelmed by the business school experience. (The other one quit in the first week.) I remember prodding Hulesh gently in class to say something, anything, to get into the flow of conversation, even as I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing by singling him out. He was simply unable to participate, tongue-tied in his nervousness. He had grown up in a 500-person village, studied in a Hindi-medium school, and the class appeared to be too much for him.

Today, less than two years later, he is fairly articulate and thinks very smartly on his feet - a good catch for any employer. While a few other much more gifted students may have expended energy in identifying faults in our environment at PROTON, Hulesh embraced the system and worked single-mindedly on improving himself. And, interestingly, this week I was there asking him for advice on how we can improve the system!

The human emotion of calm acceptance of the external environment is precious and frees up a lot of energy. However, if you don't try to improve things around you now, you might have cause for regret later. Hence the dilemma, even for a thinking person.

Traditionally, Indians are a rather accepting people. Many of us live in terrible conditions without a murmur of protest. In fact, the dirt-poor Indian extraordinarily manages to preserve a semblance of elegance and grace. I am reminded of a couple of lines from a poem describing a rickshaw-puller, "To call him stoic would bestow on him too much dignity / And yet there's rhythm in his rise and fall and he knows it".

Perhaps this calm acceptance is because so much of Indian philosophy stresses that you should look within yourself for shortcomings to fix rather than criticize the world around you. India is the birthplace of Gautam Buddh and Vardhman Mahavir and countless other great personages who made this idea the cornerstone of their teachings.

Yet arrayed against this is perhaps the most rousing call to action over inaction - the Bhagvad Gita. "Karmanyevaadhikaar astey / Ma phaleshu kadachan / Ma karm phal hetu bhu / Ma te sangato akarmani !" ("You can control your efforts / But you can't control at all what they result in / So your efforts must not be for the fruit / And yet you should not embrace inaction!") It's the "Ma te sangato akarmani" which distinguishes this from the accepting or passive nature of much of Indian religious and spiritual thought.

Another interesting angle is provided by the Tao Te Ching, the classic Chinese text. One sentence from the English translation is stuck in my mind: "The Master doesn't DO, he IS." The context appears to say - act, but don't be activated by the action, the action should just flow from who you are. To me this appears as the most brilliant synthesis.

Each situation is different. But I think I would like to teach my son Ekagra to be able to look at his own self critically while also being constructively critical of the world around him.

Structuring work intelligently

If I were to list the top three teachable skills that are most important in the Indian workplace, being able to structure work intelligently would figure on that list.

What do I mean by structuring work? I mean being able to break down a job intelligently into its sub-tasks, so that when you think you are done, you are really done! And you have done well!

Let me give an example. Let us say my boss asked me to find a good location for a new office that is being planned. I could take up this job in several ways.

THE BAD WAYS

1. The "Stunned-into-silence" way: I go away and am not heard from again, almost. Each time the boss asks me the status, I make some noises to the effect that I am working on it. I want to finish it all before I show her anything but I don't really know what to do! Then as more time passes, I start to feel I'll have to show her even more stuff. Now I get terribly uncomfortable. Finally when she pings me yet again, I make some more noises and show her some tidbits of work. She gets fed up, understands that the job is too much for me, and gives it to someone else.

2. The "Please-wipe-my-nose-for-me" way: I come back two days later and ask my boss, "Should I look up some real estate brokers?" When she says yes because she is busy and can't pay full attention to my question, I go away, only to come back a few days later. "Ma'am, I have got the phone numbers of three real estate brokers. Should I try to get some more?" "Yes!" she exclaims, deep in some work. Then I come back again a few days later and say, "Ma'am, I now have the contacts of six brokers. What should I do next?" And so on. It takes ten times as long as it needed to and the boss starts to feel that she might have just as well done it all herself. Also because she is answering many stupid one-off questions when she's not paying full attention, the process is bad and the task gets done badly.

3. The "First-idea-that-comes-to-mind" way: I come back in an hour and say, "Ma'am, there is an office available at xyz address, should we book it? The color of the walls is very good!"

Do these examples look too bad to be true? We see such examples every single week!


THE GOOD WAY

Some thinking and planning goes a long way. Think of it as a project.

What are the criteria for a good decision, i.e. what are we trying to achieve? These could be hard constraints - e.g. the office must be at least 10,000 square feet - or these could be objectives - e.g. distance from public transport. Write the criteria down! When you think you are done, brainstorm for some more ideas. One could also assign weightages for these criteria such as critical, important, good to have, etc. Weightages can of course alse be numerical.

Next, what are the alternatives? I can divide the town into various zones and look at the alternatives at that level. And I can later list all the alternatives under each zone.

As I proceed, I need to make sure I am tapping all the sources of information. This is not just information regarding the alternatives (e.g. real estate brokers, etc.) but also regarding the criteria (e.g. HR can tell me how many people live in each zone, etc.) If I forget to tap a source of information, the lapse will probably come back to bite me.

Only when I have set this entire framework in place should I proceed to evaluate each of my alternatives against my criteria. I'd ideally do it in a spreadsheet.

The evaluation will lead me to the decision, or at least take me close enough. Once the choices have been narrowed down, the final decision is often a little subjective and the boss might want to make it.*

Anyway, if I structure my thinking and my work in this way, my boss will probably be quite impressed with my thoroughness and abilities. I'll go far in the company.

It's easy, right? Yes! But you'll be surprised how few people actually act this way.

So watch out for the "Stunned-into-silence", "Please-wipe-my-nose-for-me" and "First-idea-that-comes-to-mind" modes of project failure. Practise structuring your work intelligently, so that when the time comes and you are given the responsibility of a big project, you'll do a good job.


* I once blogged about the CASED method for making a decision (here is the post and here is another with an example). C for Criteria. A for Alternatives. S is for Sources of Information. E is for Evaluation. D is for Decision and perhaps Documentation. This above example is basically in line with that approach.

Improving the air quality in our cities

Government expands easily, and seldom contracts. Rules and regulations proliferate and are not reviewed often enough to see if they still conform to the dictates of common sense.

I was reminded of this by a large advertisement in leading newspapers by the Pollution Under Control (PUC) drive, Government of Delhi. It reminded the city's vehicle owners that failure to produce a valid PUC certificate on demand would lead to a Rs. 1000 fine for the first offence, and a Rs. 2000 fine for every subsequent offence. The Delhi government is understandably eager to reduce air pollution ahead of the Commonwealth Games.

But does enforcing this rule really help? Let's analyze and see.

A PUC certificate is valid for three months and costs Rs. 45. Therefore the government is effectively taxing each car owner Rs. 180 each year (and spending most of that money on the test) and perhaps 2-4 hours of his or her time. The time does not seem like a lot - but if you add up all the running around an Indian needs to do for his or her driving licence, ration card, passport, electricity bill, etc., the result is a very large number. The bureaucracy crushes our productivity.



My Civic is now more than 2 years old and has covered 25,000 km approximately. It's emissions numbers look like this:


The measured CO level is just TWO PERCENT of the limit. Similarly, the level of hydrocarbons is LESS THAN TWO PERCENT of the limit.

It is not just the Civic that gives these incredible numbers. My 15 year old Suzuki Esteem still gives very good numbers. In fact, most modern petrol cars will be well below the limits for the first few years or first 100,000 km of their lives. Given that there are at least ten or twenty lakh cars in Delhi that meet these criteria, we have perhaps Rs. 20 to Rs. 40 crores and millions of hours of productive time being wasted each year in enforcing the PUC certification for these vehicles.

And what of the cars that are at the edge of the emissions limits or over them - the cars that are diesel run, old, or used for commercial purposes? They often get PUC certificates too, by temporarily adjusting the engine, by bribing the vendor, and so on. I am not saying that the PUC certificates are useless, but this system has many holes.

Perhaps there should be random checking and the fines should be changed thus: Each time you are caught with emissions above the limits and no certificate, you pay a Rs. 2000 fine while if you are caught with emissions above the limits but with a valid certificate you pay Rs. 1000 (and the vendor who gave you the certificate is put on a watchlist). Wouldn't that ensure better compliance and lesser wastage of resources?

I can bet the Delhi air would be a LOT cleaner before the Commonwealth Games if this was the approach taken. Plus we would save a lot of time and money.

The current PUC system - computerized and with a webcam - was a great advance but it is time that we improve it still further.

I feel better today

After months of struggling with the inadequate English skills and critical thinking abilities taught by our Indian schools, I feel much better after listening to this Verizon customer service audio clip from the US.

They have their own problems!

Senseless TV: payback time?

For the US at least, this recession is all about payback. Letting the finance guys (and girls) dream up paper money? Payback. An entire generation not investing enough in education? Payback. A culture of living off credit cards? Payback. Dependence on cheap Chinese labor? Payback.

Spawning a particularly mindless genre of TV that now corrupts the entire world? Payback.

I must confess that as much as I am mostly nauseated by the tabloid talk shows exemplified by The Jerry Springer Show, reality TV, WWE/WWF, tabloid style "news" channels, and even the song/dance contests, I never fully grasped what the downside to this all-American programming was. Perhaps people would spend too much time in front of the TV, perhaps they would not really develop their intellects. But so what?

Well, the most significant payback has, it seems, come in the way that the US is no longer able to sensibly discuss or debate the crucial questions that it faces.

So even while nearly one out of five American men of working age is unemployed - yes, one of out five - the rational debate is drowned out by the type of hollow arguments, petty one-upmanship and invective-filled language one would normally associate more with The Jerry Springer Show.

As Thomas Friedman points out in the New York Times, "the rise of cable TV has transformed politics in our country generally into just another spectator sport, like all-star wrestling. C-Span is just ESPN with only two teams. We watch it for entertainment, not solutions."

So here's a request to all of you - the next time you find someone you know watching senseless television of any type, intervene. Friends don't let friends watch senseless TV. The life you save may be your own.

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A newly productive India?

In the mid-1990s, Japan funded and provided technology for a new bridge across the Yamuna in Delhi. At that time even minor repairs on the old Yamuna bridges would carry on for decades (seriously). Therefore it came as a shock to us Delhi-wallahs when we saw this bridge being built in a matter of months, sometimes even at night under spotlights, with every worker wearing a bright yellow hardhat. It was the talk of the town. Somehow the pace of road/bridge/flyover/metro construction in Delhi was never the same again. Today, our city's public works proceed almost at the pace at which they do elsewhere in the world.

A few years later, in the early 2000s, I noticed the local FM radio stations taking up specific local issues and demanding accountability from the government. For example, they would talk about a big pothole on such and such road and then report back a few days later that it had been filled. (I immediately invested in the Indian stockmarket, with good results!) That activism on radio appears to have subsided but it left its mark. Delhi's roads are by and large of better quality than, say, Boston's.

Yesterday I had another experience that appears significant. I had to get my Delhi driving license renewed and went to the Regional Transport Office at Surajmal Vihar. Though the place was moderately crowded, the experience was smoother than that at most private sector institutions.

The man at the Enquiry counter directed me to Counter #4 ("Renewals"). I stood in the queue and got to the counter in a few minutes. The guy looked at my papers, smiled and said, "We don't need so many documents for residence proof, just one will do. Just get it verified from Counter #11."

The Counter #11 guy spent just about 30 seconds on my document and signed the copy. He directed me back to Counter #4.

The #4 guy now entered my data into the computer. There were two computer screens, one facing him and one facing me. He asked me to verify the details when he was done. Then he stamped my paperwork, asked me to sign and said, "Pay the fees". Used to Indian government offices, I thought the cashier would be sitting somewhere far away behind a wire grill, acting like some demi-god. I was pleasantly surprised to find instead that the cashier was the Counter #3, which was essentially three feet to the left of where I stood and looked identical to every other counter.

A few minutes in the queue later, I was in front of the Counter #3 guy. He glanced at my documents; "Rs 300".

While I counted out the money, he pulled up my case on the computer and at once my receipt began to print out in front of the guy next to him. He asked me to step in front of this other guy, who motioned me to sit on a stool I had not noticed till then, clicked a photograph via webcam, asked me to step up and sign an electronic pad and then offer my index finger for a fingerprint. All in a minute.

And then it was done. "The license will be couriered to you." I could not believe it - the entire process had taken just ten or fifteen minutes and had been pleasant. Every RTO employee was fully occupied and productive. In the US it typically takes much longer and even the productivity appears to be lower.

This automation of processes in government departments yields fewer opportunities for bribery. A friend noted yesterday that some folks who work there try to squeeze out some money by being slow to return the change when you give them a currency note and hoping that you will just walk away. Bad, true, but a big improvement!

Kudos to the Delhi transport minister for running such a smooth operation. If such cleansing spreads outwards from Delhi and the metros, it will be a big reason to be bullish on India.

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Of MBAs and poetry

You've heard this from me before - Indian companies dislike the way many fresh MBAs believe they are God's gift to mankind! They are flighty, avoid real work, and want 'career growth' handed to them on a platter in their very first month of employment. They are easily bored and change jobs at the slightest opportunity.

This leads me to quote from a wonderful poetic retelling by Vikram Seth of the immortal tale of The Hare and the Tortoise (Beastly Tales from Here & There, Penguin). Instead of running the race, the socialite hare is easily distracted:

"Boring, boring, life is boring.
Birdies, help me go exploring.
Let's go off the beaten track.
In a minute I'll be back -"
Off the hare went, fancy-free.
One hour pased, then two, then three.

Expectedly, the tortoise wins the race.

After the announcer's gun
Had pronounced that he had won,
And the cheering of the crowd
Died at last, the tortoise bowed,
Clasped the cup with quiet pride,
And sat down, self-satisfied.
And he though: "That silly hare!
So much for her charm and flair.
So much for her idle boast.
In her cup I'll raise a toast
To hard work and regularity.
Silly creature! Such vulgarity!
Now she'll learn that sure and slow
Is the only way to go -
That you can't rise to the top
With a skip, a jump, a hop -
That you've got to hatch your eggs,
That you've got to count your legs,
That you've got to do your duty,
Not depend on verve and beauty."

Nice words! MBA students, are you listening?

(Now there is a twist at the end of this particular version of the tale, but I'll let you read it for yourself. Smile.)

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Incidentally, while I'm reading this tiny book of poems, I'm also reading A Suitable Boy by the same author, 1500 pages and yet a page-turner. It is a tour de force. The then Stanford University President, Gerhard Casper, had recommended this epic while welcoming us to the campus as international students, but it's taken my 17 years to get to it.

Another tangential comment - while many budding poets ruin their poetry by forcing it to rhyme, I'm simply blown away by Vikram Seth's best rhymes (The Golden Gate, for example) and even more so by Pushkin's verse (Eugene Onegin) and of course Shakespeare's sonnets.

Capitalizing Compulsively

Why do we Indians capitalize every other word in business documents? And why does it unsettle me?

Whenever I look at a resume, a draft proposal or a presentation, I feel like taking a red pen and crossing out all the unnecessarily capitalized words!

It is entirely appropriate to write "I hold a B.E. degree in Software Engineering and am an expert in user interface design". 'Software Engineering' was probably the exact title of the degree and so may be capitalized.

But if you write "I hold a B.E. Degree in Software Engineering and am an Expert in User Interface Design", then you are going too far. Too much unnecessary capitalization.

You may argue that 'User Interface' is a standard term (abbreviated as UI) and its design is a formal area of knowledge, hence the words may be capitalized.

But I see it as a slippery slope. The modern world is littered with many formal areas of knowledge, some here to stay and some just passing fads, some established and some controversial, some broadly popular and some niche. To capitalize them all would render documents ugly and unreadable.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

So I try to resist capitalization of mere areas of knowledge.

Therefore, I would not like to see on a general resume that the candidate is "an expert in Supply Chain". Or "an expert in Operations Management". Or "an expert in Human Resource Management" even. (And definitely not "an Expert" of any sort!)

In a few select cases, capitalization is more permissible since the words now mean something highly specific, something quite different from their general meaning. So, for example, 'I am an expert in Enterprise Resource Planning' is somewhat acceptable. Saying you are an expert 'in Supply Chain Management' or 'in Quality Assurance' is borderline tolerable.

Still I would suggest: err on the side of caution.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Capitalization is totally acceptable only where we are referring to the name of a formal department (e.g. the 'User Interface Group') or a formal job title (e.g. 'User Interface Designer') or a course (e.g. 'ME210: Heat Transfer') or a universally accepted software category (e.g. 'Customer Relationship Management software') or something similar. Otherwise it is typically best avoided.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now, why does excessive capitalization bother me?

1. Reasons of effectiveness:

Every time you capitalize a word, you draw the reader's attention to that single word, pulling it away from an orderly perusal of the text. Is that single word where you want the reader's attention to go? Mostly not.

2. Reasons of aesthetics:

Too much capitalization strewn about the page makes the document look cluttered and ugly.

3. Reasons of presumption:

By capitalizing a general word or phrase referring to a body of knowledge, you are arrogantly proclaiming that it is a formal, well accepted area. As a reader, I may not know about it, or as an educated reader, I may not agree with the importance you are giving it. Therefore you have to be careful. E.g. a phrase such as 'Communication-Driven Decision Support' should be capitalized (if at all) only where the specific audience will certainly understand what exactly is being referred to. Normally never.

4. 'Slippery slope' reasons:

Once you start capitalizing, it's difficult to stop. Consider the following paragraph:

"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using information technology to address various supply chain areas, including supply chain management, supply chain optimization, supply chain execution and supply chain event management. Supply chain management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly forecasting, replenishment, and warehouse management are also coming under the scope of supply chain IT."

Suppose you allowed the use of capitalization for 'Supply Chain Management'. There would then be a tendency to capitalize 'Supply Chain Optimization' as well. And so on. Soon, the paragraph would look like this:

"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using Information Technology to address various Supply Chain areas, including Supply Chain Management, Supply Chain Optimization, Supply Chain Execution and Supply Chain Event Management. Supply Chain Management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly Forecasting, Replenishment, and Warehouse Management are also coming under the scope of Supply Chain IT."

You see now what I mean when I say it is a slippery slope?

5. Reasons of inconsistency:

Most people who capitalize freely are also poor at maintaining consistency. Therefore they may sometimes refer to 'Human Resource Management' and sometimes to 'Human Resource management'. This inconsistent capitalization is painful. At the same time, if you aim to be highly consistent in capitalization, you waste a lot of your time thinking about how to avoid situations like the slippery slope example in the previous point.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The way out is simple - avoid capitalization where possible. Resist.

Specifically, capitalize the names of knowledge areas only if you are referring in fact to the names of courses, departments, job titles or something similarly formal and permanent. Otherwise, think again.

Toyota's travails

You must have heard about Toyota's quality travails in the US over defective interiors. In fact I was a little intrigued why this purdafaash took so long.

I must admit I feel this way solely from personal experience - I used to drive a Toyota Camry in the US and had all sorts of niggling problems. Yes, something about the accelerator pedal would make me worry that the it would stick under the floor mat (I used to pull back the floor mat before driving); the sticky accelerator was the problem that finally did Toyota in. But there were also other issues with the interiors. The center console storage had a cover whose hinges gave way. The sun visor on the driver's side had a plastic flip cover over the vanity mirror whose hinges grew, er, plasticky and then gave way - twice!

The core of the car was simply perfect, but the plastics seemed very badly put together. I never had such problems even with my Santro in India.

The state of the Camry's interior seemed so much at variance with the mantra we learned in our manufacturing classes about Toyota quality. I thought it may have been a result of the Americanization of the production for the US market. But it now seems it was at least a little because of a slightly pompous "we know best" mindset back at Toyota's Japan HQ.

Perhaps they were out driving Lexuses! (http://manasblog.proton.in/2009/09/eat-your-own-dog-food.html )

Quality translates directly into repeat business. I had - at another time - a VW New Beetle, which had the recurring problem of fused headlamps, and I knew a friend who had to return his VW Jetta under the US's "Lemon Law". So I would not easily buy a VW in India. And my sisters and I each had Honda Civics at some point or other which never gave us any trouble at all, so I bought a Civic in India as well. Also, when I had to trust my safety to a motorcycle on relatively fast US highways, I felt most confident on a machine made by Honda.

Just for the record, my latest Civic has given me considerable trouble - a knocking engine sound from the first day that their engineers just could not fix for two years, and some odd electronic whirring connected with the aircon. Let's see what happens to their quality reputation in India a few years hence.

An India we have to address

I realize that I have already used two consecutive installments of this blog on "A midsummer nightmare" and I wondered if I should risk a third on a similar theme. This is, after all, a blog on a business school website.

But as things turned out, I came across an intense essay by a young friend who is of Indian origin but was born in the US and has lived there all her life. Her name is Meesha and she is a second year science undergrad. She visited India when she was 16, and wrote this essay when she was 19 for an English class. I was compelled by its elegant sadness to put it up here.

It talks of things about India that we all know but have to gloss over in order to stay sane. And it describes them through the innocent eyes of the very young who have never lived here.

It's worth reading, even as I look out of my Gurgaon window and see an entire horizon of skyscrapers twinkling with lights.

So here goes - an essay on a trip to the Taj Mahal.

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What constitutes the title “wonder of the world?” Is it a wall constructed perfectly to keep the enemy out, is it an ancient city on a mountain, is it a colossal theater, or is it a beautifully designed tomb for someone's long lost love? Furthermore, once titled, should everything surrounding the “wonder” be shrouded in a mask of majesty; can nothing other than the facade of it's name be perceived? Well, if that was the intent, I am witness to failure.

The Taj Mahal itself is the most impressive structure I have ever witnessed. As I crossed the threshold from the blindness of being behind the surrounding walls to a panoramic view of the Taj Mahal, the sheer size of the building and it's surroundings caught the breath short in my chest (opulence seems to have been one of Mumtaz's specialties). The reflection pool laid in front of the Taj is analogous to a red carpet; setting one up for the extravagance to come. While walking up the the steps, the sun reflecting off the marble and into my retinas provided the next transition of scenery: the inside. The tomb is embellished from top to bottom causing one's eye to dart frantically trying to absorb all of the information. Essentially, the ceiling is the inside of a giant onion dome that begs the question of how such a large structure remains suspended. After surveying the inside in it's entirety I left with a memory that will be forever have engraved in my mind.

With all this said, one may ask where the failure component occurred. The reason I suggest that I felt disappointed is not because of the experience of seeing the Taj Mahal itself, but rather the journey to get to it. When I think back on my experience, rather than feeling fond, I am immediately flooded with despair. The things that I witnessed on a five hour car ride changed my life forever.

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As I get into the car I hear my mother outside talking to her brother. She mutters in Hindi, “I don't know if I can handle this.” He reassures her and she gets into the vehicle. We start the journey in our air conditioned SUV that sticks out like a sore thumb on the winding dirt roads. As per usual we witness the occasional beggar or child selling corn on the side of the road. As the heat of the noon starts beating down on our metal case the air condition struggles to maintain equilibrium. We crack open a can of coke and drink it greedily. As the hours pass the scenery changes from the tranquil India I know to a very different world. I see nothing but shacks. Tiny “home” contraptions made of old car parts and scrap metal. People line the roads by the hundreds, so much so that we are not driving any longer, but rather, crawling.

The people are a whole new world too. Due to the lack of shelter their skin appears to be charred by the sun like burgers left on a grill too long. Their corneas and teeth are the same shade of unhealthy yellow. Their hair is matted to their head like a dog that hasn't been brushed in years. Actually, the longer I look at them the more they remind me of stray animals rather than people. The things they do start to strike me as beast-like. A naked man crudely blows his nose into his hand. A mother carries her child on her back while looking through a garbage heap with her hands. The air is thick with melancholy.

Then I see the most graphic image I have ever witnessed in my life. It is burned into my memory; vivid and brutally honest. When I close my eyes and think about this car ride I see a child wearing only a dirty loin cloth squatting on the roadside defecating exactly like my dog does in the back yard. I can see the discomfort of his severe diarrhea in his eyes. I can see him being reduced to less than a beast. He has been stripped of all humanity, he has lost what it means to be a homosapien; he is merely a mass. This is the brush that colored my world with an entirely different palate than I had ever imagined. Suddenly a stark reality set in that the world around me sucks.

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After this point the rest of the trip was cast in shadows. The trip that I had been looking forward to with a naïve sense of optimism, was now tainted with truth. Ever since this fated moment, whenever I see a homeless person, or someone being petty and materialistic, the image of that boy pops into my head and drapes me in a sheet of sorrow.

The reason that this trip had such a profound effect on me is largely because of the context I come from. I come from the world of middle-class America. Where I have privileges that only a fraction of the world has the luxury of enjoying. One such privilege is watching the trials of the world on the silver screen in the safety of an overly air-conditioned movie theater. I did just that when I saw the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I felt the same way the day I watched that movie that I did at the moment I witnessed that boy. I could not speak afterwards, and the rest of the day was cast in those same shadows.

I feel that I will revisit that boy many times in my life. Although, it hurts me, I am glad that I have him. He keeps me grounded. He reminds me of how incredibly blessed I am. He also drives me to help; to help him and everyone around him. Finally, I learned from him. I learned that India is a beautiful country rich with culture, but it is also a broken spirit. There are far too many little boys out there who don't know what it feels like to be comfortable and well. When I think of the Taj Mahal I taste a bittersweetness in my mouth. The structure itself is beautiful, but the journey to get to it is morbid. I find this to be a metaphor for all of India; the potential is there, but you need to go through a lot of hardships to reach perfection.

A midsummer nightmare - part 2

My last post "A midsummer nightmare" received an overwhelming response - on this blog but also on Facebook and via email and phone calls. Many noble friends volunteered to help in any way possible to address the heartrending situation the post described. A friend from IITD days (Vivek Verma) even took the pains to translate the Hindi dialogues into English. I am appending his version - only slightly modified - at the bottom of this post.

Now, as the offers of help came in, I happened to be reading Richard Bach's "Hypnotizing Maria". The book argued that nothing was simply a coincidence - that Nature aligned itself to your cause if you willed it to... a "Matrix" type funda. I found that hard to believe completely, of course. Just as obviously, I was convinced that it would give you great confidence and power to believe something like that!

And as I prepared for an IIT reunion last weekend, I tried to play a mind game with myself: Suppose this string of events is not a coincidence? This blogpost and the response and now the reunion - suppose they're all meant to kickstart the social work I've always wanted to do? Would it help to believe that?

Anyway, I went to the reunion, planning to talk to my old friends about an effort to save these children. As it turns out, one of the first people I met was Sanjeev Khirwar, IAS, just returned from Andaman & Nicobar where he was the Chief Electoral Officer in the 2009 elections. I asked him what he was up to these days. He replied, "I'm on a special posting in the Ministry of Women and Child Development"!

So in between a screening of "Three Idiots" and a good dinner, we had the beginnings of a conversation on the topic.

Coincidence? Smile.

*****

Despite the success of Slumdog Millionaire, almost every Indian city still has children running up to cars stopped at traffic lights or attaching themselves to shoppers at markets. They are always caked with grime covered with a layer of dust, but that's a minor thing in our dirty, dusty cities. Instead, what is most frightening is when their young bodies are missing a limb or two or are deformed in some other way. Most of these deformations have been "sculpted" by grown up humans.

Some months ago, I was at the upscale New Friends Colony market at around 9 pm. I noticed a very young boy, perhaps 6 years old, with a shoeshine box. Then I saw a beggar child, then another, and then another. There must have been 7 or 8 of them, ranging perhaps between 5 and 14 years of age. They all seemed to know each other and in between begging one would run to another and they'd play for a few minutes until they latched themselves on to another potential donor.

It all looked very innocent and one might have been forgiven for thinking, "Well, this is not as bad as it could have been." Perhaps beggar children moved up in life when they begged at posher neighborhoods.

Thinking this, I went into a restaurant for dinner. When I came out, I saw that most shoppers were now gone and the children were clustered around the oldest boy who had no legs and was resting what remained of his body on a skateboard. He had a grim air about him. They were discussing some matters in a business-like way. The children who were close to him weren't smiling.

I felt a chill as I was reminded of the "lead child" role in Slumdog Millionaire. On a hunch, I walked up to them, kneeled down, and asked him, "Tum in sab bachchon se bheekh mangwaa rahe ho? Are you forcing these children to beg?"

His eyes dropped, then he looked away. When I asked again, he seemed to wake up. "Nahin, hum sab alag alag jagahon se hain. Hum ek doosre ko nahin jaante. No, we come from different places and we don't know each other." This was the first of several well-scripted and apparently well-rehearsed lies that all the children would tell during the course of the night.

I repeated my question, then grew angry. There was a little girl of about 7 with grayish eyes, hair brown from malnutrition and a thin but pretty face. I took her a few meters to a side and asked, "Tum kahaan se ho? Where are you from?" She gave me the name of a village in UP and then added for good measure, "Hum ek doosre ko nahin jaante! We don't know each other!"

"Tumhaare maa-baap kahaan hain? Where are your parents?"
"Main maa ke saath rehti hoon, baap to bachpan mein hi chal basey. I live with my mother, Dad passed away when I was little." The language was filmy.

"Tumhaari maa kaa naam kyaa hai? What is your mother's name?"

At this she wavered. Her playfulness deserted her and she started to look scared. I asked her again. "Sharda Bibi", she said finally.

A little boy, around 4 or 5, ran up to me. He was too young to know what to say and what not to say. One of his hands had been cut off.

"Yeh kaun hai? Who is he?"
"Yeh mera bhai hai. He is my brother."

"Sharda Bibi ka beta hai? Sharda Bibi's son?"
"Haan. Yes."

"Yeh tumse kitne saal chhotaa hai? How many years younger is he?"
"Pata nahin. I don't know. Iske maa-baap ne ise train ki patri ke paas chhor diya tha, do saal se humaare saath hai. His parents left him on railroad tracks and he has been with us for two years."

So that was the story she had been told.

"Do saal se Sharda Bibi ke saath hai? He has been with Sharda Bibi for two years?"
"Haan. Yes. "

"To yeh tumhara asli bhai nahin hai? So he is not really your brother?"

She did not try to answer the question. She just twisted away in the manner that children do.

"Aur iske haath ko kya hua? What happened to his hand?"
She knew the answer to this one. "Train iske oopar se nikal gayi thi. A train ran ran over him."

A wheel of a train is a big thing when compared to a two or three year old boy. It's very difficult to imagine that such a wheel could cut such a boy's hand off without mangling the rest of his tiny body. The hand had been cut off in some other way.

And as I asked the children one question after another, I realized that this group of children was being run by an organized gang. Though they had been trained to say they did not know each other, they had also been trained to say they came from the same village, and the contradiction between the two answers was obvious. Given the mutilation of the children before me, it seemed to be a very unfortunate village, real or imagined.

As it realized that there were calculating grown ups behind the children's stories, I grew angrier. Finally, I got up and charged to the nearby police station, hardly a hundred meters away from where these children were.

"Sir!" said the policeman at the gate, inflecting his voice to make clear he didn't really mean to show respect. "Aapko kyaa kaam hai? What do you want?"

I was livid. "Main SHO se baat karoonga. I want to talk to the SHO - the station house officer."
"SHO saab to nahin hain. SHO sir isn't here."

"Dekhte hain! Let's find out!"

And I walked inside as though I owned the place. Yet the thought crept into my mind, "Had this been any place but Delhi, I'd have been stupid to walk into a police station in anger."

I told the policeman at the desk, "Aap yahaan baithe hain aur sau meter dur bachche bheekh maang rahe hain. Aap yahaan kyaa kar rahe hain? You are sitting here and little children are begging only a hundred meters away. What are you doing here?"

The policeman was young and looked impudent in a subtle way. "Kisi bachche ne tang kiya ya chori ki? Has any child bothered you or stolen anything?" he asked.

"Begging allowed nahin hai. Begging is not allowed. Aapkaa kaam hai kaanoon ko implement karna. Your job is to implement the law."

He kept shuffling some papers.

"Aap sun rahe hain ki nahin? Are you listening or not?" I asked.
"Kisi ko bhejtaa hoon. Do chaante lageinge bachchon ko to sab theek ho jayega. I will send someone. Everything will be fine after these kids are slapped twice."

He evidently knew that was not what I wanted to hear. He was playing a smart game.

Just then I looked behind his desk and saw written there "DCP South East District: Shalini Singh". Shalini Singh and my sister had been in school together. Shalini is now one of the leading lights of the Delhi police.

I fell into the trap that all we Indians fall into, as we try to elicit some minimum responsiveness from the system. "Aap Shalini Singh ji ko phone lagaao. Main unko jaanta hoon. Make a phone call to Shalini-ji, I know her."

That got their attention. The subtly impudent policeman was suddenly awkward and soon got up and left. Another older and gentler policeman engaged me instead.

"Sir, hum kya karein? Ab to bachchon ko hum thaane mein band bhi nahin kar sakte. Agar bachcha thaane mein aaye to bahut procedure hota hai - nahin to humaari vaat lag jaati hai. Sir, what can we do? We can't even lock these children in a cell in our police station. If children come to the police station then we have to follow a lot of procedures, otherwise we will get in trouble."

"To aap kaise sambhaalte ho aise matters ko? So how do you handle these matters?"
"Sir, ek NGO ko bataana padtaa hai. Phir wo aate hain. Kabhi nahin bhi aate hain. Agar aaye to hum jaakar kuchh kar sakte hain. Sir, we have to inform an NGO (Non-Government Organization). Sometimes they come, sometimes they don't. If they come then we can do something."

"Yeh bachche kisi aur ke liye bheekh maang rahe hain. Koi inhe exploit kar raha hai. Saara desh Slumdog Millionaire dekh raha hai. Aur aap aisa matter investigate nahin karoge? These children are begging for someone else. Someone is exploiting them. The whole country is watching Slumdog Millionaire and you will not investigate such a matter."

"Sir, aap jo bataao wo karenge! Sir, we will do whatever you say!"

"To chalo mere saath. So come with me. Dekh ke aate hain ki ye aadmi kaun hain jo inse bheekh mangwaa rahe hain. Let's go and see who is this person who is making them beg."

"Theek hai saab, chalo. Yes Sir, let's go." And he adjusted his cap, picked up a laathi and marched with me out of the station, past its dark gate into the lights of the market.

Seeing us come, the children scattered. The oldest boy on the skateboard could not really move anywhere quickly, so he just played with a few stones - with one hand he'd pick them up and then drop them gently on the ground one by one. He didn't say anything, didn't answer any questions.

I found the little girl who had spoken to me. She was very scared now.

"Daro mat. Don't be afraid," said the policeman kindly. "Tumko kuchh nahin hoga. You will not be harmed." This kindness the girl could not take and she began to cry.

She quietened down eventually. "Tum kahaan rehte ho? Where do you live?" the policeman asked.
"Yahaan se ek-do kilometer dur. One or two kilometers from here."

"Kahan par - where?"
But she could not say it in words.

"Humey saath le chaloge? Will you take us with you?"
She nodded yes.

"Gaadi mein chalein? Shall we take a car?" I asked.
At this she brightened up.

So the policeman, the beggar girl and I walked to my car. I held her little hand as we walked. People would pass us and then do a double take when they realized what they had just seen. Some women instinctively pulled their own children closer to themselves.

The girl sat at the back of the car with the policeman. When I pulled the ten rupees out of my wallet to pay the parking attendant, I felt guilty of my wealth.

It was almost midnight. We drove a kilometer or two as she chatted freely. But after a while she sobered and said, "Yaheen rok do - stop here."

We pulled over and got out. We were at one end of a flyover. A small path ran by the side of the flyover and disappeared into the night. The girl led us down the path.

It was pitch dark - I don't remember seeing such darkness in Delhi before. On the left were some bushes. On the right were some walls. There was not a soul to be seen, if anything could have been seen in that darkness.

"Sir, yahaan par to koi kisi ko kaat kar phenk de to kisi ko subah tak pata nahin chalega. Sir, if a person is knifed here and dumped, no one will know till morning." said the policeman betraying some nervousness.

I was nervous too. "Bolo, waapas chal kar aur log le aayein? What do you say, should we go back and get more people?" I said, ever believing that everything could be solved with more resources.

At this he firmed up his resolve. "Sir, is vardi par koi haath nahin uthaayegaa - no one will dare harm someone in a police uniform!"

But he seemed to grasp his stick more firmly.

Then the path opened into some light up ahead. We could make out scores of small dark bundles, blotting out the reflections of light from the railway tracks.

Almost at once we realized we had walked into perhaps a hundred sleeping human beings. Many were on the ground, while a few were on cots.

The girl pulled her hand away and ran. She was lost at once among the bodies, some of whom were stirring awake and sitting up. We strained our eyes to see despite the poor light. We felt rats at our feet, scurrying between the bodies.

It was a summer night and there were also many mosquitoes.

Two coarse young men materialized in front of us. "Kyaa baat hai? What is the matter?"

"Sharda Bibi kaun hai? Haan? Kaun hai Sharda Bibi? Who is Sharda Bibi, who is Sharda Bibi?" demanded the policeman, asserting himself.

"Is naam ka yahaan koi nahin hai. There is no one by that name here."

"Tum bachchon se bheekh mangwaate ho? You make children beg, don't you?"
"Saab, aap kyaa baat kar rahe hain! Sir, what are you talking about! Hum bechaare to yahaan par kisi tarah se jeene ki koshish kar rahe hain! Humaare koi bachche nahin hain! We poor people are somehow trying to survive! We don't have any children!"

"Yahaan koi bachche nahin hain? There are no kids here?"
"Saab, ek do hain. Saab, hum to unko parhaanaa chaahte hain, aap uska arrangement kar do na! Sir, we have just one or two kids here. Sir, we want to educate them, please arrange that!" one said thoroughly insincerely.

"Sharda Bibi kaun hai? Bataao nahin to main tumhe andar kar doongaa! Who is Sharda Bibi. Tell me or I will throw you in jail!"

He was bluffing but I was getting very nervous. I pretended to make a call on my cellphone. The BlackBerry's screen looked most eerie in this setting of huddled bodies. I spoke some authorative English into my phone.

The bluff seemed to work, partly. "Achchha achchha, OK OK! Wo Sharda Bibi... that Sharda Bibi... Wo to yahaan se thodi dur par hogi... She must be a little ways from here." And he pointed down the tracks into the night.

"Kitni dur? How far?"
"Aadhaa-ek kilometer... About half to one kilometers... "

Needless to say, neither the policeman nor I was eager to go after this mysterious lady in this dangerous darkness.

Just then we heard some noises coming down the path we had just come. I tensed, but only till I saw who it was.

It was the group of children. They descended unsuspectingly from the path into the clearing. At the center was the legless older boy - he rode on a cart. The cart was pulled and pushed by the other children, and a couple of them had jumped in beside him. There was a Pied Piper air about the scene.

As soon as they saw us - the policeman and me - their chatter ceased. The adults stared at them and the children averted their gazes in guilty silence. Then one child scampered, and as if on cue, they all ran in different directions.

One of them was foolish enough to run close to us. The policeman grabbed hold of him.

"Kahaan jaa raha hai? Bataa, tere maa baap kaun hain? Where are you going? Where are your parents?" he demanded.

The boy was of the scruffy kind. He must have been about ten. He hung his head sullenly.

"Bataa, inme se kaun hain tere maa baap? Tell me, who among these are your parents?"
"Baap nahin hai, maa dikhaata hoon! I have no father, I'll show you my mother!" he said, suddenly angry and liberated at the same time.

He walked over to a cot where a body lay covered with a sheet. He pulled the sheet out with one flourish. A woman of indeterminate age lay there, groaning.

"Uth uth.. get up, get up!", he said sharply, but there was no response.

"Uth, uth, ye tujhe milna chaahte hain.. Get up, get up, they want to meet you.." the boy said and roughly pulled his mother into a sitting position by her shoulders. But when he let go, she again slumped back.

He moved to where her head was and hit her across the face!

She came to, a little, and said a few words. Then he hit her again.

"Bewdi saali. Koi phaayda nahin hai. Drunk bitch, there is no use!" he said, and walked away. All of ten years old.

I stood there stunned. That young boy already had a reality so complicated that I would never understand it.

"Pata nahin kyaa charhaa kar so rahi hai... Don't know what she is high on..." said the policeman softly. He must have seen a lot of things in his job, but he sounded like a lost soul.

I felt lost too. I felt like a man might when he stumbles across a mass grave.

"Yahaan se nikalte hain... Let's get out of here!" I said decisively, and the policeman was relieved.

I took out my phone and clicked a couple of photographs for the record. But there was no light to register in the phone's camera. All I got was a grainy gray of varying shades.

We walked back to the car, with me straining hard to sense any aggressive movement or noise behind us. I only relaxed when I slid into the car and locked the door.

The Rs. 14 lakh car looked like something from another planet. The beige leather and the blue lights on the dash were at once striking and empty. We drove back in silence.

"Sir, phir koi baat ho to zaroor boliyega. Mera cellphone number rakh lijiye. Humaaraa kaam hi hai logon ki help karna. Sir, if there is another matter then definitely call me. Keep my cell phone number. It is our job to help people."

I was half-impressed. But he had one aspect of me foremost on his mind.

"Sir, aap Shalini Singh ji ko kaise jaante hain? Sir, how do you know Shalini-ji?"