Helping out an old couple, stranded in Mumbai Airport.

 Prelude:

The genesis of my character to help others probably stemmed from listening to elders in the house, the happiness I used to derive and enjoy from such acts, or the feeling that I would be praised by everyone. This generally increased my dopamine (feel-good hormone) levels. To this extent, I was selfish in helping others; otherwise, it was purely unconditional, and hence, I didn’t expect anything in return either from those who were helped by me or wanted to score a Credit Point with The Almighty.

Every time I used to do such acts of helping others, it gave me a sense of great satisfaction of being useful to somebody and thanking them and HIM for giving me an opportunity. On a number of occasions, I used to wonder about the huge imaginary game-board that HE must be using to move us with a view to providing us a chance to meet strangers and assist those in need, and how complex and complicated HIS game-board is!?

Be that as it may, my current story revolves around a tired old couple stranded in Mumbai Airport, and serendipitously, I happened to assist them.  

The Story:

Those were the years, we used to live in Goa as I was posted as the Head of Finance in UB Group’s Brewery. Though I enjoyed life in Goa with my family, there was a craving for us to get back to Bengaluru, as it was just blooming with lots of opportunities from the booming IT and other Business Service Industries.

I had this opportunity to attend an interview with one of the MNCs (having a turnover of over US$500 million, in those years) and had a manufacturing unit in Bengaluru. They were one of the leading manufacturers of Hot-melt Adhesives worldwide.

I had mentioned to my consultants (ABC) that it would be difficult for me to attend the interview on that given Thursday, as there were no daily flights from Goa to Bengaluru. This forced me to fly on Wednesday, via Mumbai into Bengaluru, which meant an additional cost to the company.  I was told that the company would bear this additional cost and went ahead and booked the tickets to depart on Wednesday afternoon, from Goa, and also my return two days thereafter.

Flying from Goa, I reached Mumbai by 4:30 pm, and my flight to Bengaluru was around 6:30 pm. I was casually loitering in the departure lounge after checking in for my next flight. While at it, I saw an elderly, distraught couple pleading with the lady assisting at the check-in counter. My immediate reaction was to stay away from this melee. However, my inquisitive mind was deeply entrenched in the conversation, and I couldn’t help but get drawn into this fracas.

I asked the checking-in clerk about the issue at hand. She said that the couple’s tickets had lapsed and unless they purchased fresh tickets, they couldn’t board the flight. I took the couple to a vacant seating place in the lounge and enquired about this. That somebody speaking their dialect and enquiring about themselves boosted their morale. The elderly gentleman spoke in Kannada and told me his story.

His name was Shankarnarayan, and he was a retired officer of the Water Supply Board. They were on their return journey from the US after visiting their son and his family. Their trip got extended, and their son managed to get the flight tickets rescheduled. However, their tickets for the domestic travel couldn’t be rescheduled for whatever reason. They tried to talk to their travel agent in Bengaluru about this confusion but unfortunately, they couldn’t get any response from the agent. They had exhausted all their money during their long travel, and they didn’t have any credit cards as well.

It was beyond 5:00 pm by now, and the flight on which they were booked had already left. Having slogged for over 16 hours, they were dog-tired and at their wits and strength’s end. He said that there was no option for them to travel by bus or train as an alternative mode in their current state of mind.

There was my friend’s wife, Veena, (wo)manning the counter, who had shied away from talking to them in Kannada, lest they latch on to her for help. I checked with her discreetly and she said they were genuinely in need of help and if someone can buy them the tickets, she can help them by allotting comfortable seats.

I went up to the couple and informed them about my intention to help them out and not to worry. They were almost in tears hearing my words of assurance, and said that they stayed in Padmanabha Nagar, reasonably close to our place. They will pay back the money the next day itself. The gentleman added that during his long service, he had helped so many people, selflessly, and that HE has therefore sent me to their rescue today. With gratitude-filled eyes and choking voice, both of them wholeheartedly accepted my assistance in their moment of despair.

I went to the Station Director’s office and ensured that he would accommodate them on the same flight as I was flying to Bengaluru. He said he will assist, but they should buy their tickets soon. I strode to the ticketing counter and purchased two tickets, swiping my credit card.

At the check-in counter, Veena was flabbergasted at my action and shockingly asked me how I took the decision of paying close to Rs. 4,500/- (a tad less than my monthly salary). I smilingly said that I couldn’t stand the sight of this helpless and hapless senior couple, and I expected that the payment would come as promised by them, the next day. I added that if this is my hard-earned money, no one can snatch it, and if not, I can never keep it. This was a test for me, as well.

As promised, the Station Director of the airlines made arrangements for them to board the flight, and Veena chipped in with allotting comfortable seats along with me. The airhostess too impressed me with their bit of Samaritan act in offering extra snacks to the couple as they were starving and had not paid attention to their stomachs due to stressful hours before our departure.

Epilogue:

The next day, I attended the interview, and I must admit that I did fairly well. I was told about the outcome a week later. That I couldn’t get the job didn’t deter me. The next day, I was ruminating on my experience and narrating it to my folks as we heard the gate open and in came Mr. Shankarnarayan, with his nephew and gave me not just the promised money but a few packets of chocolates and a toy container truck with a car in it, for my daughter. It was such a humbling moment for us as we reluctantly and gratefully accepted the extras.

On my return journey, I met Veena again at Mumbai Airport and conveyed to her that I had received my money spent on their tickets. She was glad that it ended well.  

Back home, I narrated the thread of incidents to my wife, who was initially a bit irritated with my gesture but supported my actions when she learnt the plight of the elderly couple and how we, as a family, were showered with blessings from them. I had left a packet of chocolates back in Bengaluru for my niece and brother-in-law, and brought the rest along with the toys for my daughter. My daughter still calls him Lorry Uncle.

Bottom line: Experiences like these made me the person I am today, and I am glad that I could get this and a few such opportunities to help the less privileged.

Dignity of Labour - My Experiences.

Humble Beginnings:

I had heard of teens in the Western World doing all sorts of odd jobs to meet their requirements beyond the pocket money they received from their parents. This was the inspiration to my story, and I have never shied away from labouring any type of work; be it masonry, carpentry, gardening, etc., as by nature, I am a restless person always working on something or the other, whenever I have time on hand.

So, I tried my hand at various jobs during my teenage years, be it working as a sales assistant displaying the wares at a fabric gala sale or other such jobs. By the way, I hid myself when I saw my paternal aunt and uncle on one such occasion, lest they see me and complain to my parents, who would have been embarrassed. 

Hailing from a conservative Brahmin family, many of the jobs I did growing up were taboo. So, I just kept things to myself, and just two of my siblings knew about it.

Be that as it may, my focus for this article is to narrate my experiences during the execution of a few anomalous jobs, which, normally, would have been ridiculed by my cousins, other relatives, and many of my fellow students, as menial jobs below their status or dignity. These jobs were taken up by me during our summer breaks and did not affect my studies in any way. In any case, my intention was not to earn money, as my parents took very good care of me physically, mentally, and financially. 

Trotting Further:

One such job was that of a Sales Representative for a Shoe Polish Distributor. My friend and I took this initially, and later on, a couple of friends also joined us in this venture. Our initial assignment was to canvass the product at various Shoe Shops across Bengaluru. The product was primarily a reasonably well-known liquid shoe polish under the brand ‘Carnoba’, (in Black and Dark Tan), sold mostly in Mumbai. A few other lesser-known liquid shoe polish brands (in Black, Tan, White, and one for Suede Leather) were thrown into the basket as well. Radio advertisements of this product were on Vividh Bharati radio station, and I still remember its punchline ‘Joothey Chamke Pal Bar Mein, Carnoba Hain Ghar Ghar Mein’. Mind you, there were not many televisions in those days. 

This was a month-long operation, and we were supposed to hold demonstrations at Bata shoe showrooms in prominent areas in the city. This demonstration involved wooing the pedestrians whose shoes were polished with the product. If they evinced any interest in the product, they were suggested to get their supply of liquid shoe polish from the nearest Bata showroom.

I couldn’t remember how many pairs of shoes I polished, and my friends did the same in different locations. It was a humbling experience that taught me a very valuable lesson about ‘Dignity of Labour’.

Turning Point:

The second job that reinforced my belief in myself as a ‘Salesman’ and that I had a natural flair for this profession was during the summer break of 1981. JK Tyres, a renowned tyre company, had introduced their novel product ‘Steel Belted Radial Tyres’ for cars and trucks. However, our focus was on promoting the car tyres.

The company’s Bengaluru branch had posted their requirement of students to act as ‘Consumer Contact Representatives’, and as many as 60 students from different colleges across the city appeared for the written test on a fine afternoon. They shortlisted around 10 students, and my friend Kishan and I were among the lucky ones to be on the list. The following day, they had an interview, and their Technical Manager and Marketing Manager had flown in to the city for the interview.

The process of this interview gave me a shot in the arm, boosting my confidence as the panel of 4 people grilled us with various questions from the product leaflet and made us mock an interaction with consumers. Suffice it to say, there were only 4 students who passed this grilling, and I was one of them. The compensation was a princely Rs. 500/- for one month of the campaign and a commission of Rs. 5/- per tyre sold under our name.
The campaign was launched forthwith at Woodlands Hotel, and we four were given product-branded T-Shirts, Caps, and other paraphernalia, including decals (stickers), Discount coupons to cajole consumers into buying the products, etc.

Our campaign started off at Indian Oil Petrol Stations across the city, and we split into teams of two to take up different locations. The erstwhile Drive-in theatre in the city was one of the chosen spots for our campaign, and I still remember the movie ‘Rocky’, introducing Sanjay Dutt, was being screened. I met a cross section of people from chauffeurs to owners of different types of cars, including many a lady driver who didn’t know a thing about cars, let alone tyres. By the way, I also met my neighbour, Uncle Navaratna Ram, who encouraged me for what I did. Fond memories!

At the end of the campaign, we did get Rs. 500/- promised, but we were not aware if we sold any tyres under our names. The company didn’t respond with this information. Nevertheless, we were given a certificate for having participated in the campaign that helped me in landing up with a job at Modi Threads Ltd. This happened soon after I graduated with a B.Com and had applied for a job as a Sales Representative. Based on my experience at JK Tyres, the interviewer offered me a job, and I promptly received an appointment letter by mail a week later. They offered me one of the top packages for those years. Other than a handsome salary of Rs 1,600/- per month, I was also offered allowances to cover conveyance and other expenses.

Providence had decided otherwise, and I politely regretted this offer to take up further studies and went on to become a Chartered Accountant, and that is a story for another day!

My respect for the dignity of labour was reinforced during my experience in my workplace at a renowned and India’s largest Alco-Bev conglomerate, the UB Group. The person I was reporting to and interacting very closely, was an ex-World Bank top official and our head honcho in Finance, who inspired me with his attitude for work. He didn’t even hesitate to sit at a clerk’s workstation and perform clerical jobs. This was an eye-opener and a great inspiration to those who appreciated his down-to-earth working style, but many others thought he was just showing off by doing frivolous jobs. He went on to become the MD of a major Battery Manufacturing company.  

Looking back, most of my close relatives were ignorant about the odd jobs I undertook as a student, and I never volunteered to mention this lest I get ridiculed by them.

Even to date, if somebody, particularly youngsters, shies away from any work they feel is below their status or dignity, I come out with my life’s stories and those of others, to showcase that no work is trivial or to be ridiculed. The experiences I have from these odd jobs during my formative years put me in good stead as I climbed the pinnacle of the corporate ladder, reaching the position of Finance Director during the last 6-7 years of my overseas assignment. I quit the corporate world in 2017-18.

Bottom line: 

Lessons learnt - Be Humble, Listen to your heart. No job is big or small.

Remember the Janitor in NASA who, when asked about his job description, said that he is there to help NASA put the rocket on the moon!

Don’t just talk the walk unless you can walk the talk!

Our Farthest Round Trip on Bicycles - Mysore!

 Prelude:

A couple of successful short-distance cycle trips to Bannerghatta encouraged me and a few others to venture out on longer trips, and we thought of romancing with Mysore, which is a good 135 km southwest of Bengaluru. Preparations – what can we prepare for, considering we were all students and none of us were earning? Nevertheless, we chipped in with whatever we could. Packed a couple of sets of clothes for the trip, cycles checked (well, mine and Kishan's bicycles were of World War II vintage and mine still had the black colour throughout - without a hint of Chrome); oiling of crucial joints and ball bearings, brakes, tyres properly inflated, torches with a new set of batteries, and all these happened on the eve of our departure. We also had an AGFA Click III camera to pictorially immortalise our trip.

The Trip:

One fine day, in 1980, a couple of us decided on our trip, and I was the first to volunteer for this adventure. I was living in HAL quarters at Marathahalli (East of Bengaluru) those years (Circa 1975-1982) as my father worked in HAL, and as we had planned to start off very early in the morning (from N R Colony), I had to stay overnight at our friend Krishna’s house. His elder brother, Sheshagiri (Sheshi, as we all used to call him), was one of the cyclists, and Kishan (Srikishan – as he is officially known) completed the trio for this trip.

So, I started off expedition on my bicycle from Marathahalli, a good 20 km, well before sunset.

I had removed the mudguards of the vehicle beforehand for some repair and had to carry them unfitted, on the bicycle. I was the target of ridicule as my friends kept taunting me for my supposedly foolish behaviour (they thought that I had taken off the mudguards to reduce the weight of the bicycle, but it didn’t make sense as I tied it to the bicycle – I just let them enjoy their laugh). I got the mudguards fixed and got the final check done before we retired for the night.

The next morning, Sheshi and I left his house as soon as Kishan joined us. I still remember it was just around 03:30 am when we started off that morning to what was our first long-distance trip. We had our torches lit up as we pedalled our way through Bull Temple Road and took a left turn at the dead-end of that road to join Mysore Road.

So far, so good as we took it easy on this slightly nippy morning. In those days, Mysore Road was just a dual carriageway with no shoulder on either side of the road. The shoulder was a gravel one and left very little margin for manoeuvring error.

As we glided down Mysore Road, passing Remco (now BHEL) and a lot of other industries, the University campus, etc., we had the road for ourselves as we seldom crossed, or were overtaken by, any vehicle. Street lights were sparsely able to light up the path for us, and at times, we were totally blinded by the bright headlights of one of those rare vehicles that crossed us. This has been one of our first experiences as we had hitherto ridden only in the city limits on reasonably lit streets. Vary of the perils of ill-lumination on the roads, we pedalled cautiously ahead.

At one point, Sheshi, riding in the front, shouted us to ‘DUCK’ and in the nick of time Kishan and I ducked to below the level of the handle, to save ourselves from a tractor carrying hay with bamboos extending on both sides of the trailer almost covering the entire width of the road. The tractor was almost invisible in the darkness, as shockingly, there were no headlights. Jeez! That was a narrow, proverbial 'By the Skin of Our Teeth' miss, and we just counted our blessings while reminding ourselves to be a bit more careful and watchful for such surprises.

Taking a couple of breaks on the way for coffee and breakfast (oh! We had a lovely packed breakfast of Idlis and Vada by the roadside, probably near Maddur, and there was a canal—'Indvaal Pick-up' (if my co-cyclists remember it)) with flowing water where we washed our hands before resuming our journey, and reaching Mysore around 1:00 p.m. in time for a quick fresh-up in the room and lunch.

It was on returning to the room that I revealed my ‘shoestring budget’ position and shocked the other two. Had I mentioned that I needed money for my trip to Mysore, I knew I would be prevented from taking this trip by my parents, or at least to defer it to a future date. But I couldn’t miss this trip for the world, and there I was. I was nicknamed here by Sheshi, and that name was with me for a long time. Where could we source funds those days except beg, borrow, or steal small amounts from various hiding places of my mother? That was an eye-opener to me, and I decided thereafter not to venture out without adequate funds.

Post lunch, we returned to the room and were on our tummies in no time, to rest our aching and smoking bums that had been bearing the brunt over the last 10 hours or so of being plastered on the seats of our bicycles.

That evening, we took a bus to head out to the famed Brindavan Gardens and KRS Dam over the river Kaveri. The next day, we had a quick tour of the Mysore Zoo and the Palace from outside and a few other places. 

In the afternoon, we went to my uncle and aunt’s place while planning to return. My uncle was the then Superintendent of Police for Mysore. We stayed at their house on our second night in Mysore. A few more places were visited the next morning, and we started off on our return journey pretty early in the afternoon so that my uncle and aunt couldn’t suspect and prevent our plans to start later in the evening.

Our return plan was a two-stage one. Our intention was to have a pitstop at Mandya, watch a late-night movie, and pedal off throughout the night to reach Bengaluru early the next day. For the first leg, we pedalled our way to Mandya and had dinner before lining up at ‘Sanjay’ theatre for a late-night Kannada movie ‘Ravi Chandra’, a Dr. Rajkumar starrer in a dual role with two heroines – Lakshmi and Sumalatha.

After the movie, we started pedalling towards Bengaluru cautiously, to mitigate the risks we experienced on the onward journey. It was in the wee hours that Kishan’s bicycle had a puncture on the front tyre, and we had no way to fix this till the shops opened.

We came up with a plan to tow his cycle till we get to a shop that can fix the problem. Kishan rode with Sheshi while I towed his bicycle to Channapatna.

In between, we took a pitstop to relieve ourselves and clicked some pics, including the one lying on the railway track alongside the road.

We had to wait for quite some time in the morning, as the shops opened only after 9:00 am. Once we got the tube changed (instead of just fixing the puncture), we told Kishan to ride on while Sheshi and I pedalled leisurely to be a backup should any need arise.

We checked, after reaching our respective homes around 2:00 pm, that Kishan had already reached his place an hour or so before us. Relieved that all of us returned safely, I parked my bicycle for a couple of more days at my grandmother’s place till I embarked on my return journey to my home at Marathahalli.

Epilogue:

Three of us, for the next couple of days, were almost walking with our legs widespread as our bums were roasted with so much cycling. Nevertheless, we didn’t miss our evening walk to Gandhi Bazaar (a tradition we had adopted for years), even on the day of return.

Though we were not given a heroes' welcome, we had stories to tell about our experience right from the start till the end.

Naturally, I was the centrepiece of the discussions for my plight mentioned above. The nickname stuck with me for decades, and even today, after 45 years, whenever we discuss our Mysore trip on bicycles, friends in that group remember me for all the wrong reasons. Though I used to get embarrassed earlier, I took it in my stride as a lesson of life, and learnt it the hard way. 

My sincere gratitude to Kishan and Sheshi, as they had to chip in with additional funds for this trip. Thanks, Kishan and Sheshi, for bailing me out and for the memorable trip. I am sure Kishan and Sheshi would mull over the recollection of our trip by going through this article. Similarly, my other friends and people of my generation can relate to this article in their own way. 

Long after this trip, one of my second cousins (presently in Houston, USA), questioned me if we did find it a bit difficult on the return journey, as Bengaluru is at a higher altitude than Mysore. Intelligent guy! This concept of difference in altitude had never crossed my mind during the journey or later, till he raised the question.

A few of the readers may be surprised at my candid recollection and penning down of my/our experiences. Such trips have shaped our future and character.

Thereafter, we graduated to scooters and motorcycles and made a few trips to Mysore, but the bicycle trip stands out to date, and those are stories for a different day.

Some of the pictures (Courtesy - Kishan), taken during our trip:

       

            

        

                

My Experiments & Experiences with an Amazing Gadget – The Computer!

Prelude:

We can’t imagine a world without computers once they entered our lives about 40-45 years ago. The speed at which these machines have evolved over the last 4 decades is unimaginable. The first of the computers almost filled a mid-sized room, and a few simple calculations took almost forever, in today’s context.

From the Mainframes and Minis, to Desktops (also referred to as Personal Computers – PCs), Laptops and Handhelds, these computers have come a long way in reducing the size, weight, et al, while increasing the processing power in Geometric Progression.

This article of mine surrounds the time at which I got introduced to these lovely gadgets and my experiences thereafter. Self-taught, as the learning of computer operations was very expensive, more due to the novelty involved, it was an uphill task to upskill ourselves, as the means and opportunities to learn economically were very limited. The struggles with technology, which many of my generation may perfectly relate to, made us very adaptive as we learnt the ropes of newer things, albeit in a difficult way, though not systematically like a curriculum, but effectively enough to work with these computers.

My Experience:    

My first experience with this amazing gadget was in my erstwhile workplace at the Mafatlal Group, Thane, Near Mumbai. In those days, the personal computers (PCs as they came to be known as and Desktops now) were very few in numbers, and the offices and establishments that could afford it could be counted on the fingertips. We had an EDP (Electronic Data Processing) department that was instrumental in all computer-related activities, and our prized possession was the IBM Mainframe 1401 Machine.

That said, the data entry in those days was two in two stages. First, there was a ‘Punch Card’ with columns and rows that were punched using a card punch, and this was a prestigious function in the erstwhile days, resulting in a very high demand for Punch Card Operators.

These punched cards were run in the card processor, and each batch of punched cards was stored for posterity. It required a huge infrastructure to store these card batches safely.

Then came the floppy disks that were magnetically written by the disk reader/writer to store data. Incidentally, the first of the computers required to be started with these disks to activate the operating system, and only then run the other programs. These were of 640KB data capacity and were progressively sidelined by stiff 2½” diskettes (stiffy) that could hold a princely 1.44MB of data. CDs and DVDs entered the fray much later, let alone the memory cards and the pen drives.

On the RAM side of it, 640MB was the basic, and additional memory came in multiples of 1MB (1,024MB). Of course, many in Gen X and Millennials are unaware of any memory size below a gigabyte, while we had not even heard of this term. 

One of the earliest operating systems was MS or PC-DOS (Personal Computer – Disk Operating System) from Microsoft. There was a plethora of MS/PC-DOS versions before Windows came into being.

I restrict the discussion about the evolution of computers here, as this topic is too vast to comprehend in one go!

Thereafter, I moved to Chennai for a year or so, where our office had just two PCs dedicated to R&D and Operations. The accounting function was totally manual. In late 1990, I joined a major Alco-Bev Group in Bengaluru.

There was a time gap of a few months till I joined this Group in the late 1980s, when my good friend Srikishan ventured into the business of Computerised Horoscopes and Predictions. He had invested in a PC and I forcibly helped him out (?) with the data entry and printouts, heralding my first experiences of using a PC.

Joining this Group in the late 1990s, we had a limited number of PCs to use and had to wait for our turn. It was only when I was transferred to Goa to head the Finance Dept that I got a PC for my exclusive use. The price of this PC was a princely Rs.98,000, and it came equipped with a massive 2MB RAM, a 5¼” floppy drive, a 20MB Hard Drive with MS-DOS – one of the top-end machines those days, and included a soft-white monitor and a keyboard. Mouse, as an input device, was unheard of in those days.

It was here that I learnt the tricks of networking. I had visited D-Link’s (one of the leading networking hardware companies) manufacturing facility in Verna Industrial Estate to procure the requisite network cards to connect the PCs to the server. Installing the network cards on stand-alone PCs, connecting it using coaxial cables, and configuring it to access the server was a different ballgame altogether to me, as a professional Chartered Accountant. But I always had a flair to learn anything about computers and electronics, and therefore, this was a blessing to me. My colleagues in the EDP team were quite helpful in allowing me to experiment with the networking. In those days, we used the Novell NetWare operating system to connect to the server.

All the productivity applications like the erstwhile WordStar, Word-Pro, Lotus 123, Framework, and a plethora of different versions of the Microsoft Suite of products like Excel, Power Point, Word, etc., were learnt by us either by trial-and-error or referring it to friends, peers at work, etc., as was needed in discharging the daily routine in our work-lives. 

From here, my job took me to Mumbai, where in this greenfield brewery, I had to run, operate, and maintain the computer systems, including the network (excluding the Brewing process-related system). We were hit by the scare of Y2K (remember, the scare that ‘planes will fall off the sky at the stroke of midnight on 31^st December 1999’? Yes, it was this scare) and I had to be in the Brewery, a good 35 km away from our place and during the mid-night, ran the diagnostic program to enable all the computers (mainly the process related systems) to circumvent the crash due to Y2K, so that on dawn of 1^st January 2000, all computers were hunky-dory!

Well, I had been there and done that, too!

My next sojourn was in Kolkata, where I didn’t play any major role in computers as I didn’t want to disturb the setup, as the EDP department was quite capable of handling the software-related issues, and there weren’t any hardware-related issues.

Providence took me from here to Johannesburg, South Africa, in mid-February 2002, where I was supposed to be seconded on a two-year contract extendable by another two years. Instead, I ended up living at this lovely place and country for over 16 years (the longest two-year contract for anyone, I suppose).

Climbing the corporate ladder to head the Finance function, I was also the Administrative Head of the Info-Tech functions of the company. My learning about computers took a different turn here as the company had countrywide operations and we had to link with the system users across the country, online and on real real-time basis. Though not operationally educated on these terminologies, I kept abreast of the different topologies of networking, including the issues relating to switches, routers, and different types of other peripherals. Understanding the Spec-ing of required hardware, compliance, and governance of all licensed software was another soft learning for me, though I had my colleague, the IT Manager, to take care of all these.

Oh! I forgot to add that I did take my CISA exams in June 2005 and passed in my first attempt, as a challenge from my then-colleague and boss. That I didn’t pursue becoming a member of the Institute, ISACA – USA, is another story.

In between, we had hit a potential catastrophe of our legacy accounting system (Solution-6) being redundant and to facilitate the migration to an ERP, I was tasked to create a common Chart of Accounts (just to mention, we had over 12 breweries and 100 depots connected to it), so that the accounting stories of each of these breweries could be on the same page of reference. Needless to add, this exercise saved us substantially in audit fees. The liberty of adding more lines in the Chart of Accounts was restricted, and initially, I was sworn at by all the Accountants of the Breweries as their favourite toy (of opening line of accounts, at the drop of a hat) was snatched away by me. Once they saw the wisdom, they appreciated the way I handled the exercise in a very strict manner.

Thereafter, I was intensely involved in the selection of and implementation of AccPac (Now Sage 300) ERP, setting up with various parameters, accounting controls, migration of legacy data, et al.

Probably, my openness in accepting the changes and my flair to learn new things, as life threw at me, kept me in good standing.

I am sure there are many in my generation, or older/younger, who can relate to my story and draw parallels.

Epilogue:

Agnostic about Gen Z, our generation has the attitude of never say die in adapting to newer technologies, whether by design or default. From the point of running a totally manual environment, we progressed through the ages of Main Frames, Mini & Micro Computers, Laptops, and to Hand-Held devices. With a pittance of memory (both RAM and ROM) to unlimited Cloud-based applications and data storage, we were forced to adapt ourselves to the ever-changing technological advancements, learning on the job, and implementing our learnings to the actual requirements demanded by our lives.

Change is the only constant – so they say and to stay relevant, we have to adapt with the times and tides that are thrown at us. We, from our generation, are probably less stressed in our lives than the successive generations, and consequently, we have a better frame of mind in accepting and adapting to the changes life throws at us than the severely stressed-out Millennials and Gen Z.

Another Anecdote from Way-back!

 This time around, I am writing about our experience of a cycling expedition to Bannerghatta during the mid-1970s. In those days, with sparse vehicular traffic and even sparse population, this destination was quite far from the parts of the city where we all lived.

It all started with around 10-12 of us (pity, I can’t remember a few of their names) deciding to go on this biking trip to the nearby Bannerghatta, just under 20 km. Normally, in those days, we would reach Bannerghatta Main Road either via Tilak Nagar or Jayanagar 9^th Block East and reach the destination.

One of our friends, Prakash, started acting high and mighty as if he drew the map of Bengaluru and said he would take us through the shortest route.

The day before the trip, we all had our bikes checked, oiled, properly inflated, etc., and decided to get the food packed in the early hours of the morning.

To this end, he said he would assess the eatery from where we will pack the food and first off, we went to the restaurant in N R Colony – Kumara Bhavan (Also loosely called a Cholera Bhavan amongst us kids) and ordered 12 packets of Iddlies and insisted that it should be cleanly and hygienically packed. The owner of the restaurant blew his top and shouted, saying that his eatery is being mocked by such insistence on hygiene and cleanliness, as they give prominence to these qualities, and shooed us away.

We then came to the SLV of Subramanya Aital, where we ordered the food. In those days, a plate of idlis (2 pieces) cost around Re. 0.30 and a vada was around Re. 0.25.

Prakash also insisted that we get some sweet packets too, and he and a few others went to Bluebell Sweets in Jayanagar 4^th Block Shopping Complex to get these. Believe me, this sweet shop was the most expensive one those days, when Arya Bhavan or Kanti Sweets were still in an embryonic stage.

Before I forget, many of us didn’t have our own bicycles and we hired them in Muninagappa’s Cycle Shop for the full day. The hiring charges were a princely Rs. 1.50 for a full day.

The next morning, we collected the food packets, and as soon as we all gathered, we took off to Bannerghatta. The route Prakash suggested was via Kanakapura Road, and despite many of us protesting that it was the wrong route, he insisted that we take that route. Not to argue much, we decided to teach him a lesson once he realised his folly and grudgingly pedalled on.

We must have come a couple of km after Banashankari temple when he showed his ignorance of the route and started to enquire from bystanders and the makeshift shop owners on the route. There were no buildings around, and we could hardly see any structures, and even less human life. The sides of the road showcased nothing more than agricultural fields.

Most of those whom he enquired about the route scoffed at him for taking the wrong route. One of the guys was very helpful, and he opened the gate to his farm and suggested that we pedal through his fields and come out on the other end, which would lead to a dirt road connecting the Bannerghatta Main Road. Prakash had his face blackened figuratively, as he was red with shame. As we took this route through the fields, in a single file as the road was a narrow pedestrian pathway, we enjoyed the beautiful guavas and other fruit plants and shrubs. We dared not stop to pick a few as we were focused on reaching our destination. We also negotiated a big and open well on the way, taking care not to lose our balance and fall into it.

At the end of this pathway, as the guy indicated, we hit another makeshift gate which opened onto a dirt road connecting us to Bannerghatta Main Road. By now, Prakash had gotten back most of his lost composure and started to boss over again. The rest of us almost gheraoed him to just listen to what the majority decides, and he whimpered and kept quiet.

Thereafter, it was a breeze, and we reached Main Road and turned right towards Bannerghatta. En route, we came to a village called Gottegere, where we had a pit stop and ordered coffee at one of the small roadside eateries. The taste of this coffee was so good that most of us had a second dose of it. We also made this a compulsory coffee stop for all our future trips. We were almost two-thirds of our way to the destination. From here, we lazily biked to the destination and reached a good 2½ hours from the start.

We visited the hillock temple and saw the famed Bannerghatta Zoo before unpacking the food. Hungry that we were, we gobbled up the food in no time and drank water copiously from the nearby source of potable water. Mind you, in those days, we grew up in tough, rugged environs and were not so sensitive to the source of water or food. Maybe that is one of the reasons for our enviable immunity system.

After spending some good time there in the National Park area, we started pedalling towards Bengaluru. After a customary stop at Gottegere, where we had a double dose of the excellent coffee that we had savoured earlier, we came all the way up to the junction of Tilak Nagar Main Road, turned left, and reached home by late afternoon.

Those who had hired cycles returned them, and we all gathered at SLV for an evening snack and coffee before dispersing.

Most of us decided to boycott Prakash for any future trips, though a few of us felt sorry for him. We had a few more cycle trips, the farthest one to Mysuru. More on these later.

Bottom line, we had a great outing and a terrific experience that we kept mulling over for a long time!

Incidents Surrounding The Cricket Match, Worth Remembering!

Prologue:

We had a huge ground for ourselves during our middle school days. The ground was full of children playing various games, and we had a dedicated place for our cricket. Though it was chaotic, the players were focused on the game, and nothing bothered them except the ringing of the bell for the start of morning and afternoon sessions.

We used to bother the neighbouring houses whenever we hit the ball into their places and were oblivious to the shouting that followed.

The Story:

Circa 1971-72, and it happened during my 6^th standard. 

We had a classmate, Raja, who came from as far as Subramanyapura (presently this has become a suburb of Bengaluru as the city has grown at least 10 km to the South-West, beyond this point). He had been watching us play cricket at the school and proposed that our team from school play a match with his local team. He added that arrangements for transport and food would be made.

In those days, Subramanyapura was at the ‘back of beyond’ for us hailing from the Basavanagudi and Jayanagar areas, as our periphery was restricted to Banashankari Temple on one side and Chennamma Kere (Lake) on the other side and Bannerughatta Road on the South-East side.

We knew that the reputed Gopalakrishna Mills was a major industrial unit and had their own buses to transport their workmen from the city. Excited that we were, we readily agreed to this adventurous cricket match.

Come D-Day, we gathered at South-end Circle from where the GK Mills’ bus picked us up in the morning and took us to Subramanyapura. The playground was just behind the Mills. Our team (I am still trying to remember who all went – Murali, Badari, Sathyathirtha, TL Srinivasa Murthy, Babu Reddy, Prabhakar, Shivakumar, yours truly, etc.) was very eager as we met with the other team members and went for the toss.

I request my classmates (who came on that day) to fill in with the details that they remember, so that this article can be a complete one.

I don’t remember much of the game, except that our team won the match, while the losing team created a ruckus and tried their best to cheat and win the match. In those days, we played for Pencils as a princely bet, and if I remember it right, we won 11 pencils – one each for the opponent team member.

The game was done and dusted, and we were very hungry and tired. The losing team members went back on their word of providing food, and there we were, in an alien place with no food and dog tired after the match.

Someone suggested that we could have Prasada at the Subramanya Swamy temple, and we hurried to have our fill of the Mosaranna (Curd Rice). We breathed easy after this, and then it suddenly dawned on us that there was no transport to take us back to our part of the civilisation! The shift timing of the mills was to end at 5:00 pm, and till then, we had to wait in a hostile environment (remember we had won the match, much to the dislike of the local boys).

In those days, Subramanyapura and Kanakapura Road were connected by a single-lane road with no traffic at all. An occasional chugging lorry carrying bricks or sand was the only telltale sign of civilisation. Nevertheless, we enquired from a few roadside shops and dragged our feet towards Banashankari. Somewhere in between, we made our way through agricultural fields and even through a graveyard. BK (Sathyathirtha) was scared and almost started to cry as Murali coaxed him with his encouraging words and chanting some mantras to quell his fear. That BK went on to become a decorated Police Officer is a story for another day!

We must have walked quite a distance, and our legs were almost on resisting mode to any further torture of walking. With no sight of a single soul other than us, we dragged our feet, cursing Raja and his team for our plight under the harsh scorching sun.

Soon we came up to the asphalted single-lane road and as luck would have it, we managed to stop a lorry that had just disposed of its load of bricks (this I still remember as the residue of bricks was still in the lorry) and got on to its load-bin. Some small mercies in life!

Soon we reached Kanakapura Road, got down from the lorry, and thanked the driver and the cleaner profusely.

Our only way to reach Banashankari was to hitch-hike again, on a lorry, as the frequency of buses to Kanakapura and other places beyond Banashankari was far and few in between.

Thus fated, we waited for our next hike on a lorry again. We didn’t have to wait for long as a merciful lorry driver stopped and asked us to jump onto the load bin. We chugged along and soon our joy knew no bounds as we could see the familiar Banashankari Temple on the horizon.

With a huge sigh of relief, we got off the lorry, thanking the driver and the cleaner profusely, as we made our way to the bus stand, waiting for the buses to take us home.  

I noticed one thing here; despite all of us, not yet into our teens, being left high and dry at an unfamiliar place and having to go through an ordeal of trekking our way back, none complained about what happened back at Subramanyapura. Perhaps, the thrill of an outing and winning the match was quite overwhelming, and the bits of inconvenience were too trifle to bother our exuberant minds.

We had just come out of our houses on the pretext of playing a cricket match, but hid the details of the venue from our family members. This instance, at a place unfamiliar to the family members, was never discussed in the open, and we had kept it a secret for a long time.

Epilogue:

We never discussed the happenings of this event in the open. Raja continued to study, and he was never picked on. Probably, our young minds were not polluted as the later generations, since we rarely saw any movies and there was no TV to contaminate our behaviour with mindless and meaningless soapies. Also, if matters had precipitated, we would have been hauled up by our parents for daring to get into such a predicament.

This experience made us strengthen our bonds with our classmates. Our concerted efforts in dispelling fears of a few of our friends while exploring unknown areas and encountering obstacles hitherto not experienced boosted our confidence and perhaps laid a foundation for our character going forward.

I am really indebted to HIM for providing me with a chance to experience this outing! 

My First Visit to Melukote.

During September last year, I had an opportunity to visit Melukote, a temple town steeped in history (a great deal of barbaric incidents too), around 150 odd kms away from my place, and my first visit to this revered place that hosts a few famous temples.

I posted this article on my Facebook Page on September 12^th last year but had forgotten to post it on my blog.

What an outing I had with my old childhood friend, Kishan, and his siblings!

I got a call from him last weekend when he invited me to join his family for an outing to Melukote, a holy place for the Iyengar community.

The traveller in me quickly said YES, without even blinking my eyes.

Off we went early this morning, all eight of us, huddled in two cars.

After the breakfast of Iddli, Pongal, and a still-cooked Vade at Kadambas on Mysuru Highway, we drove to Melukote, arriving there around 9:30 am.

We had a very good Darshana of the presiding deity Lord Cheluva Narayana Swamy and His consort, Goddess Lakshmi. Since Kishan and his family had special pooja, we were somewhat privileged devotees to have a ringside view and behold the beautiful idol of the deity. One look at the Lord, and you can understand why He is called Cheluva Narayana Swamy!

The temple has so many rich carvings on the pillars that normally, visitors overlook to appreciate either due to lack of time or otherwise. 

A few of the pics below show the rich carvings. Pics inside this temple, courtesy - Suma Rao.

      

            

   

      

    

             

        

     

         

        

Well, I could have posted a few more dozen pictures of this amazingly beautiful temple and its precincts.

A pit stop later, we proceeded to climb the hill (around 300 asymmetrical steps from where we parked our cars) to reach Lord Narasimha Swamy Temple on the top of the hill.

The abhisheka was special in the sense that only a limited number of sevakartas will be allowed to perform this seva on any given day and we were fortunate to have prebooked the seva. This idol of the Lord, too, is a magnificent one and one can feel the presence of the divine, inexplicable energy as the eyes behold the Lord.

Forgot to add - just before the start of Abhisheka, we started to chant Shri Vishnu Sahasranama Stotra as we had about 20-30 minutes before the priests prepared for the ritual. It was an unbelievable experience to chant this sacred stotra in a group and in the sanctum sanctorum in the divine presence of the Lord!!

We were blessed indeed to witness the Abhisheka to the Lord in such close quarters.

I could capture this only in my terapixel camera (eyes) and could store it on my petabyte harddisk (brain) for anytime recall!!

Once the Abhisheka concluded, the sanctum was closed for Alankaara and in this interval, we were offered a sumptuous prasada of banana rasayana and waited for the Lord's Darshana, post Alankaara.

Having filled our eyes with the image of the Lord post Alankaara, we had our second innings of the fill of prasada that consisted of Kadamba (a la Bise Bele Bath), Puliyogare, Ksheerannam and Curd Rice.

Our stomachs full of the tasty prasada, I proceeded to the rooftop of the temple for some pics and panoramic views captured both on my camera and my terapixel camera and stored it for posterity on my petabyte hard disk, for my anytime recall!

        

            

   

                                                                            A look at the crysanthemum flowers ready for harvest.

After this, we climbed down to our cars and went to see a few other famous sites in the town. Akka Thangi koLa (water tanks), which is famous, like the other main pushkarani in the town, for shooting movies of all languages and Soapies too!

     

Before we started our return journey, a few of us couldn't resist the visit to the famous Subbanna's Canteen for various types of ready-mixes, condiments, etc.

Somewhere in between, we stopped for a coffee break that was very much needed as we were feeling a bit down from the heavy lunch, what with such a filling lunch!

Thereafter, we hit the road for our return journey and reached home just after 5:00 pm. 

On the whole, it was a day well spent. Many thanks to Kishan, Harish, Meera, Jyothi, Jaisimha, Ranjini and Balaji for the excellent company and for hosting me!!

Looking forward to more such short visits with them in the future!!!