Blue Litmus
Cadbury’s Twirl is Intensely Chocolaty
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Digressing just marginally from the equally stimulating experience of spoofing the Gita, I have just indulged in tasting a recently introduced chocolate bar called Twirl® from Cadbury. My first reaction to the stimulus was that it was awesome, simply out of this world to put it mildly.
In Hosur, a town with hardly anything to speak of but for the weather, chocolates can be stored at room temperature. Not that it is cold, but very pleasant, just cool enough to prevent chocolate bars from becoming tubes of paste. It was perhaps these conditions that facilitated a kind of crumbling effect as I bit into the bar – magnificent the feeling was; and then it spread vigorously all around my mouth occupying the entire volume. I was lost and my tongue confused about where to begin – I guess that’s why they called it ‘twirl.’
And what’s even better you ask? Federer is in his uncompromising best form, while Nadal is killing himself.
I shall follow this one up with more mythical musings from …uh…well, the myths. A friend of mine had an hour-long conversation about moral misgivings in both the great epics (no, not Lord of the Rings for god’s sakes!), the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. That’s of course next time.
Introduction to Warfare
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Introduction to The Gita
For a spring morning, it was ferociously hot. The dust kicked up by the hooves of the thousands of horses felt like baked hot wooden sphincters puncturing the face but this was war, and it hadn’t begun yet. Two massive armies stood facing each other gauging the others’ might before the conch is blown to signal the start. They would fight until sunset.
But one brave warrior stood atop his chariot, at the center, bisecting the space between the armies. He looked ahead at his cousins, his teachers, his ancestors, his relatives… He was going to kill them all if he was to survive. He turned around to see his brothers behind him. Each of them eager to fight and prepared for the struggle.
The lone warrior wiped the sweat from above his brow, and raised his armoured left arm to reveal his gold plated Piaget sundial, and sighed as he spoke.
“Keshav, there is just six hours to sunset. I’m afraid if we don’t begin the fight soon, this sundial will be of no use.”
The charioteer smiled a wry smile and spoke with firm conviction demanding the listener’s complete attention.
“Arjun, my friend. Don’t be in haste. I have something to tell you…”
Con-Science
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Or you may as well call it Manufacturing. But not to be confused with another term that spells the same and refers to something that the Politicians and babus of this great nation are found lacking in.
What I am venturing out to say is that what you see as a whole, being rolled out of an assembly line is more glossy than the sins hidden underneath. I have acquainted myself with these sins and, I admit to have also sinned just to avoid additional rework (like we don’t have enough to deal with already!). Cables getting stuck at the ‘U’ Bolt at the rear axle can only be replaced by removing the tyres and the brake drum and the dust covers – a process that can take up to two hours including re-fitment. Or I could just snap the wires and make a new joint with the use of a wire-cutter and bits of insulation tape – a process that takes a mere four minutes. I think if one is a regular jolly good fellow of the species, one would choose the latter solution. It saves time, effort (and therefore is efficient) and is not easily noticed by inspectors especially if the vehicle in question passes all the functional tests which it is bound to (after all, nothing’s wrong with it). So much for engineering and design for assembly. Ethical cheating – no harm done.
My last week was pathetic and pathetic is the word that best describes it. Quite a contrast to the present one where I am able to find time to notice that the abdomen actually swells up when I inhale and recedes when I exhale (have you noticed this?).
There is an opening next year to get into Human Resource and Welfare which is something I could be considering (should be). It is the life of bliss I’ve been looking for and totally outside of all the struggle. The opportunity rests on the retirement of a particularly charming personality. The retirement is certain but the uncertainty lies in yours truly getting appointed to take the gentleman’s place. God, we need to have a chat, say what?
Just an update: CFSFN now costs 23 smackers. If you had bought one soon after I reviewed it (see ‘Chocolate Sunday’), you could have saved some money and if you liked it, you could have saved upwards of 30 bucks!
Tags: cheating, chocolate, design, engineering, insulation tape, manufacturing, retirement
You Will Need a Screw-driver
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… And a couple of metal toothpicks (alright two pop rivets if you may) and you can start up any truck in the factory for a short drive. In fact now that I think about it, you really don’t even need a screw-driver, you may as well use a strip of metal, 2-inch nails or anything remotely resembling a key.
A good colleague of mine showed me how it is done. You just twiddle around with the two pop rivets at the fuse-box whilst simultaneously sticking something metallic in the ignition switch – and hey presto, you’re up and ready to roll!
There’s a second method but it involves more than just a little agility on your part. Can you fit in completely in a 4-by-4 cardboard carton? If yes, maybe you could just get under the dashboard cluster behind the steering wheel shroud and short the terminals at the ignition switch. A smarter way is to get the hood in the front opened and reach your hand across the radiator and do what has just been described. Opening the hood isn’t easy, the bloody thing is the heaviest piece of steel I’ve ever come across for use as a bonnet. Car bonnets are feather compared to these.
GRAND THEFT LORRY WARNING: Don’t Rob Lorries. Even if you do wish to get rid of them later, you won’t be able to. I do believe there are better getaway options. Moreover, you can’t hide the confounded things especially after they’ve been painted with all the colours in the spectrum (I really can’t understand how they can paint a lorry blue with yellow and orange flowers!!)
And cars feel different now. They are too close to the ground. I’ve been in every kind of truck that is made in the factory and now I get a fair idea of blind distance in-front of the truck. I see everything from a height of at least 5.5 feet from the ground and last evening when I got a ride back home in a Ford Ikon that belonged to a colleague, it felt weird – like we’d slide right under a damn lorry and why is the road so close to me? And why am I not able to hear the underbody rubbing against the highway tarmac? Why does it feel so light?
Today, I was in road test with a good driver. He performed what is called by most Need For Speed enthusiasts, a ‘drift’ on a standard bend at 70 km/h. In a truck, this feels like it will tip over but the tyres at the rear just slide laterally and transfer a whole lot of momentum to the left (in my case) against its natural movement that bears it onward in space. The driver then has this race-driving passion, he floors the pedal until you hear the engine hiss (or maybe it’s the Turbocharger) and the truck takes off on a long straight stretch at over 90 km/h. He tests the brakes right at the end. This vehicle wasn’t equiped with ABS (for those less familiar – Anti-lock Braking System) so the wheels at the rear simply lock up and leave skid marks. It was important that the man at the wheel held the steering firmly. What a ride! If only I was authorized to let you come by and experience the road test, you’d have loved it. You’ll never feel the same about a roller coaster ever. You might fall asleep in it. The Ford Ikon can go eat cake.
Conversations from the Workplace 2
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Presented here is casual conversation between five people including yours truly (who remained tight-lipped most of the while). For reasons I think obvious, I shall not mention names (its for my own good). They are quite simply A, B, C & D. You really needn’t know who’s who.
A: This dal today is so watery! It requires no chewing.
B: No wonder we’re all putting on so much weight. We are not chewing the food thoroughly enough.
A: Really? Is it true that I can lose weight just by chewing well? C?
C: It is possible, I do recall reading something about it in the papers. But I mostly feel its the Typhoid I had contracted last year. I lost nearly 5 kilos!
B: My cousin lost twelve kilograms after being diagnosed with some sort of a protein deficiency. He’s totally changed. I’ve lost 3 kilos since I started this fruit-breakfast diet.
A: 12 kilos! My God! That kind of thing is what I need.
B: I feel I need to lose at least 5 more kilos to keep fit. I think it’s the rice that stops me from losing any more weight.
D: Yeah! I lost some weight to disease too but not to the extent that some of you have. I had gastro-entiritis, the illness made me lighter by about 4 kilograms. Yes, this dal is quite smooth eh? (blinking at me).
ME: (in thought bubble) What a bunch of losers I’m lunching with today.
Chocolate Sunday
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I know what you’re thinking – there should have been an ‘e’ rather than a ‘y’ in the title of this post. But that little assumption is something you’ve made from your a priori experience that when the good day of the week is preceded by names normally relating to flavors and flavoring agents, one must substitute the ‘y’ for an ‘e’ and make it cold and sweet. Well, at this point I find it needless but I’ll say it anyway that you’ve got the whole damn thing all wrong. You see, August 30 really was a Sunday and a very deliciously chocolaty one too.
After a few hours of shopping with a dear friend of mine, I got back home in the evening feeling quite exhausted. I gathered up enough will to walk down to a supermarket nearby for a quick bite, only to find myself indulging in chocolaty items only. My eyes simply ignored anything that wasn’t chocolate. So after an absolutely mouthwatering and refreshing chocolate pastry with chocolate flakes and icing, a drink of chocolate flavoured milk and a small chocolate candy that came instead of loose change, I picked up Cadbury’s® Five-Star Fruit & Nut® chocolate bar (hereafter mentioned simply as CFSFN).
CFSFN is the best chocolate item I have had in a long time. For those abstaining from sugar, it is potentially lethal but I am happy I am not one of those (there is a God, trust me). It takes a regular person like moi just three minutes to consume it whilst feeling the juices from the raisins, caramel and the chocolate mixing up homogeneously and flowing smoothly down the oesophagus; and the juices way below in the gut eagerly wait to welcome this freshness to bathe and rejoice in its splendor.
During those wonderful three minutes, it is very easy to forget that the goings on around you are not reality. So fellow inhabitants of this blessed land that harbors oodles of this CFSFN, go forth and taste it, albeit just once and you’ll probably want more and more until you can eat no more; then you can recommend it to others the way I’ve just done. Amen!
IMPORTANT NOTE: There is also Cadbury’s® Bournville which is great for dark chocolate lovers (I mean, the chocolate is dark). That is more…well…uhm.. sugar-free.
Tags: a little more chocolate, Cadbury's, chocolate, dark chocolate, more chocolate
Dialogues from the Workplace 1
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Presenting an interaction between my boss (B), a senior manager and yours truly (ME).
ME: Sir, there is a tribe of monkeys in the PPC Department and I don’t think I can handle them all by myself. It is scary to walk in there.
B: Those lousy bastards! When will they ever do one thing right? How long has that stuff been inside the shop without any acknowledgement or material movement from their side, 3 weeks? I think its time to summon the General Manager about this. Its bloody ridiculous!
ME: Yes, sir its been about that much time sir, but…
B: Why doesn’t it seem to bother them? Its not like I’m asking them to do me a favour. Its their f#$&**g job!!! I’ll see what I can do, my boy. Tell me which monkey in particular is troubling you.
ME: Sir, I meant the real ones sir, they’ve parked themselves outside the PPC Office area making faces at passersby; and at the same time imitating Stallone-type grimaces at those trying to get in.
Oil, Grease, and All About Being a Process Owner
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I made three overnight bus trips, each of about 300 km, between Hosur and Madras within a span of eight days. The last one being on the night of August 8th, it was a Saturday and a wet Saturday night. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about my karmic connection with the rain Gods. If not, it is about time. The situation is this – every time I leave a city for another, it rains either that evening or the night. This has happened each of the last ten times that I’ve travelled. The most recent one being the ride from Madras to Hosur. Thankfully, I was already inside a bus when it started to drizzle. Then the coach began to get stuffy with fellow travellers shutting the windows – it spoilt the ride, the rain I mean. The whole four days that I spent in Hosur were characterized by bright sunshine, outdoor sport, and being outside for the fun of it all. But it poured like hell on the evening of the 5th, the night of which I was to leave. It happened in Alwar and in Madras. The bally thing is spooky.
But besides all that, I am now back in Hosur and have been assigned an entire shop to myself. This is the Protoshop and I help build new vehicles that are designed to meet export requirements. The part I like most about it is that the shop is the analogical equivalent of a hospital ward and the trucks are babies who need to be looked after until they’re fit to be released to the wild world. I’d have hated the assembly line, this is more in tune with what I wanted – freedom.
However, with just a handful of skilled workmen and an enthusiastic trainee, it falls on yours truly to also get the ol’ arms messy with whatever oils and greases and coolant fluids and power-steering oils and other hydraulic oleic substances. I can’t make knuckle cracks anymore, the movements of my knuckes are smooth – I can feel it dammit!
Another fun bit is knowing that the vehicles are all over-powered with high power to weight ratios. I had a chance to be taken on a road test. The 9 tonner was flying at 110 km/h with a payload consisting only of the driver and myself. I had the seatbelt on but I have to tell you, that seatbelt was of no use. I was clutching the seat with my left hand and the door with my right. The engine hissed all the way and I could feel the thrust quite like what one is likely to feel in an airplane taking-off. It was awesome, absolutely awesome.
The morons from Quality came and gave some sign-off points – they pointed out missing stickers and the out-of-spec wheel nut covers. Poor sods, they don’t know what the baby was capable of. Haha! The boy was a ‘Pass’ as far as I was concerned. Man, what a ride.
Oh, and I am incharge of whatever goes on in my shop. I’m technically, a process owner. My boss says it reflects well in a resumé. I have arrived and hello, I’ve hit 500 words!
Here’s Where the Truth Lies
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A polygraph testing machine has an accuracy of 61% (No, you don’t need citation, I already checked it up). 61% is not an impressive figure, it is only marginally better than flipping a coin and expecting a result you called for. Be that as it may after extensive research, the results from a polygraph test are not final and binding (ask any investigator – nothing is better than plain evidence linking the suspect to the crime scene). A polygraph picks up many physiological changes – perspiration, heart rate, pulse and breathing rhythm. Research also reveals that any knowledge of controlled breathing (to calm the senses) means that you could beat the machine four times out of ten – at least (and if you’re a Russian spy, you could beat it every time!). A test typically consists of Irrelevant questions, Control questions and Relevant questions all in a random, jumbled and mixed order known only to the questioner and the analyzer. Only after several rounds of questioning, can the analyzer make comments with regard to the integrity of the subject (suspect).
The paragraph that precedes this contains all the facts required to quickly deduce that it requires considerable testing and analysis to tell a lie from the truth. Do you still want to watch and believe a TV show like ‘ The Moment of Truth’ or the desi version ‘Sachh ka Saamna?’ The only working argument is that people don’t watch TV for any reason, only to kill time. Watching the show is fine but believing the gaff isn’t.
Assuming you’re like me, with a fairly limited knowledge of breath control and you are asked – “Have you ever tried tasting Fevikol?” you say ‘no’ even though you did try it once during craft class in the first grade; your palms sweat and the machine you’re hooked up to records deviation from regular patterns – it will be deemed – a lie. If however, you’re asked – “Will you taste Fevikol if it was kept in front of you now?” can you judge the response as a lie or truth? The whole situation painted for you is hypothetical and therefore makes no demands as to the integrity of your response. You could say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or even something like ‘yes, provided you give me a straw to sip it through’ or ‘Is it flavoured?’
The TV show does exactly that, based on audience response to the stimulus. A vector summation of total audience response of ‘Yuck! Gross!’ is more appealing to the public and naturally, a response in the positive is needed. If you say ‘yes’ the whole humor of the response falls flat, but if you said ‘no’ and the machine thinks you’re a goddamn liar then the audience is enthralled and finds it very amusing.
A majority of our population is uneducated but literate, too bad this blog boasts the readership only of the fortunate minority that is both literate and educated.
Statutory Warning:
1. Viewer discretion is advised as far as reality TV is concerned.
2. Ingesting Fevikol can be injurious to health; physically speaking, if your oesophagus is clogged with dried adhesive, other more palatable items may not pass through – ice creams for instance.
Moving Again!
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In a few weeks, I shall be absorbed as permanent employee. In other words, the beginning of the end of college life lies just two weeks into the future. The general interpretation of such a situation as I have gathered from fellow trainees is that we have two weeks to have the fun that we’ve had this far. After this, corporate life will destroy free spirit, free thinking, and free holidays. I’m lucky I don’t share the viewpoint completely – free thinking and free leave will most definitely be put an end to; but considering the probability (about 70%) that I shall be posted in virgin territory, a place I’ve never heard of let alone seen, free spirit may keep me going for a few more months.
The place is called Rudrapur, 60 km South-East of Nainital, Uttarakhand. Some people I’ve spoken to, paint a very habitable picture of the little town and that has greatly affected my mental state. I now look forward to being absorbed, packed up and dispatched to the countryside.
Recall the watermelon juices I’ve written about last month. They were diabolical and lethal as I’ve learned after being more than just under the weather for close to two weeks.
A rule has been created – Never risk fruit juices out here in Madras, unless you are fond of falling violently ill.
And oh!! I still managed to sketch something, its up on Photographites. Ciao!
A Deserving Swiss, Caribbean Cricket and a Loose Gibbon
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Work hasn’t become so monotonous that I come up with something as disturbing as Marx’s manifesto but really, I can’t wait till I am informed about my eventual location and my key result areas. However, two things happened over this week and the last, that have given me immense pleasure.
Federer took the French, a prediction I made last year, aghast at his shock defeat at the hands of jungle-brute Nadal in the lawns of Wimbledon 2008. Nadal received a solid whipping from silent Swede Soderling in the Round of 32 . When he(Soderling) fired his forehands, particularly the inside-out version that very few players are able to pull off, Nadal was clueless, absolutely beaten for speed and power. A sore loser that Nadal is, he said he let Soderling play his game. The cheek of the blighter!
But on other fronts, did you happen to catch Leander Paes getting smashed in the eye with a perfectly well-guided tennis ball? What was he doing there standing erect right up at the net? Dlouzhy was smart enough to keep his racquet close to his face anticipating a shot like that. What was depressing though to see was Paes exulting and howling like a mentally challenged gibbon after every point he won as if he couldn’t believe he was winning.
The second exciting thing was the way Chris Gayle lay waste the Aussies. There are no words to describe that onslaught. There could be words in the Caribbean for this sort of thing; words like ‘blow-dem-ay-way’, ‘jingo-lo-ba’ and the like. The Windies showed them the way out alright. They made 170 runs look like a paltry total as they knocked it over with 5 overs still to go.
Finally saw some children going to school in the morning. I hadn’t seen that in the last two months – vacation time. It appears that come hail or come shower, this place will never move on from twin-plaited-ribbon-tied hairdo for little girls not to mention the boys with their shorts buttoned above their navels and all you can see is the zipper flap on the front. Madras is unaffected by climate change and this dubious distinction is something the city shares with Indian Politicians. I was browsing books to read at a nearby store standing absolutely still but the volume of sweat I was drenched in would have easily misled the casual observer into believing that I had just run a mile in under two minutes. What with the quantity of fruit juices that I am ingesting? It never seems to be quite enough for I am practically drowning in my own sweat [this would make a great story for Stephen King]. Until work picks up, I thought I’d resume the pencil sketching that I used to do.
You might have to wait a long while for another post.
Only The Boring Get Bored
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Moved from Alwar, Rajasthan to Alwarpet, Madras. It took the usual 40 hours aboard our superfast trains. I shared the cabin with a family of three that boasted of a military background. They didn’t need to explain, for I was able to gather that little nugget of information on witnessing two soldiers arranging their luggage. For a background like that, they were pitiably insecure. I watched them as they tied up all their baggage with chains one would normally use to contain and pacify wild elephants from Tanzania. The gentleman was kind enough to ask me if I wanted mine secured while help was available. That was an offer I politely declined citing perfectly valid reasons like the obvious fact that I wished to disembark with my belongings when we reached Madras. Some people just don’t get the humor. This gentleman was one of them. He looked the other way as though I had only said a plain ‘No.’
The journey was eventless. I assumed my place on the top berth and was fast absorbing the James Hadley Chase I had brought with me before nodding off. I was reminded about where I was only next morning when I was woken up by the carriage attendant for breakfast. The three below were already munching off the last few bits of their omelettes in absolute silence. Singularly boring chums. By mid day I was through with reading and began texting some friends, helped myself to an ice cream or two, and listened to some music.
The train reached Madras Central surprisingly early. The authorities were taken so much by surprise that they deliberately halted the train just a few hundred meters from the platform until it was delayed by ten minutes. This is standard practice for trains that keep good time.
I now am wide awake at 0520 hrs to catch the bus to factory where I’m engaged in reducing effort in the shop-floor. Updating trolleys for the lines so that the associates don’t find it too arduous a task to operate a group of machines that load by themselves, machine, and unload the finished components. Funny what? My superior tells me that it really isn’t a waste of time so I keep at it.
Before I forget, I did find the names of the birds of Alwar. Search them on Google Images when you can.
Black Drongo
Nilgiri wood pigeon
Nothern Lapwing
Intermediate egret
Blyth’s reed warbler
Red-vented bulbul
Koel
Goose
I’m still looking for the names of some more that I had spotted. I am considering a book.
Bird-fest
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Other than the occasional (read frequent) mistake of engaging the third instead of the second gear, I face no problems with riding a motorcycle. I am convinced that more satisfactory results may be obtained as February comes to a close. My second month in Alwar was very fruitful. Myself and two colleagues climbed 6 kilometres uphill to Alwar Fort (called bala quila by the locals). We learnt that the fort is under Police control and that there’s a limit with regard to how many visitors are allowed in a day. There are also timings to be adhered to. We gathered exactly why the arrangements are this way when we reached the fort. It is in tatters. Unless reinforced with concrete, the fort will tumble downhill with the unfortunate payload that went visiting. Judging by the maintenance, this could happen sooner than one might note. Large langurs also sit beside the roads curiously watching frightened tourists. Purse, phone, and eatables are snatched quite frequently. For a moment one finds it hard to ascertain just who’s in control of the fort – the police or the monkeys. Conscience usually agrees with the latter. On the other hand, the view of the valleys and the town of Alwar from up there was simply wonderful. One had to be very careful not to use cameras in full view of the long-tailed vagabonds but yours truly still was able to capture some images on his phone. Returning downhill was the easy part and on the way I was able to spot some really pretty birds (I mean birds of ornithological interest please!). For example there was this bird that looked like a sparrow with a very huge appetite but just as active. It wouldn’t sit in one place. It has brown foliage with a yellow beak and sports a tail like that of a dove. I am not sure where to begin searching for a name. Humming birds were common and so also were peacocks and peahen. In fact I have spotted a lot of new birds just living in Alwar. I had never seen any one of these in Delhi or Madras. At the factory, the management has taken an initiative to rear a gaggle of geese within the premises and I get to see them in action too. Quite a cool bunch that. They sound like old tractor horns tooting around and taking walks in the park under the sun. Apart from these, there are white egret-like things within the town. I hope to take some pictures of this fauna but you know how birds are. The Sariska trip is still on the cards. The tigers apparently have resurfaced and offer a wholesome experience of wildlife. That is some time away. I visit a local library and browse books on botany. I couldn’t find one on ornithology. I need those names. Any suggestions?
Pillion Eye View
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Chaotic Cooking Competition
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Perhaps the worst thing our superiors could have done was let us know about our Out-Bound-Training program just 2 days before it was to happen, and that they did. Writing about it is very difficult because there was just no structure, no starting point, and no clear goal. Surprisingly, the OBT was successful and pleased our superiors.
The entire batch of 22 of us was divided in to 3 teams of 8-7-7. All teams were to meet the following objectives:
- Reach OBT destination: 11km walk/jog/run but no mechanized transport. Average timings of the teams will be recorded and points given.
- Each team must prepare 3 dishes of choice: One vegetarian, One not-so-vegetarian and a dessert. Time allotted is 2 hrs. Points for quickest time.
- There will be points for inventory cost/management, and waste management.
My team of 7 had 4 non-sporting, more than slightly obese entities so we were covered as far as the food department was concerned but on the athletics front, our performance was poor. We brain-stormed on dishes and learnt that only one of us knew to cook. So we decided on my idea of simple-practical. A common gravy of tomato-onion with the usual spices for the two dishes (cottage cheese and chicken). And as for dessert, we received a suggestion to make coconut laddoo.
We had just 2 hours for shopping the previous evening for our inventories that included 3 serving bowls, 2 cooking pots, a gas stove, LPG cylinder, spatulas, serving spoons, refined oil, spices et all. We were totally stuck when we discovered that the whole town of Hosur was out of cottage cheese. We hunted for a substitute and zeroed in on Soy chunks, its called meal-maker but that night it was a savior. Phew!!!
I was second to reach the destination, very close to the catchment area of a dam. By making good time I ensured that our team average time would be mediocre and not abyssmal. We won 1 out of 4 management games mostly due to the athletics handicap, and finished either 2nd or 3rd in the others. The time finally came for us to prepare the meal and it was agreed that I do the dessert. I don’t know what a coconut laddoo is but that day I got my hands rogered in a paste of dessicated coconut and condensed milk. Sticky, and I couldn’t even scratch my nose when it itched. I had to seek assistance. I came up with a dessert item that was so much in demand that we couldn’t meet it. It won praises from all who were lucky enough.
Chicken was exquisitely prepared and it was rated the best among the 3 chicken dishes. The soy preparation was very salty. The lady in the team had no sense of proportion and dumped too much of it. It had to be doused with more masala. It turned out that we were the first to deliver- 5 minutes before the bell. We won the food challenge and since we used just half a litre of refined oil, there was none left. Our oil waste was minimum, no waste in the dessert, no chicken wasted and all the food was finished. No waste other than some plastic from the packaging. We got the points on waste and inventory management.
But sometimes when things are going too well, something must be wrong. So along came the news that athletic ability weighed higher than food preparation and we came in second. I expected to be third when the OBT began, but we did better than that. This post is dedicated to the team that accomplished it. Cheers!
Minivan to Mysore
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We were to wake up at 4 am. Let me repeat that for the casual reader who’s skimming through the lines– 4 a.m. Mysore is about 165 km from where I am and to be in time to Automotive Axles required us to start early. For the first hour and a half, no one knew which way we were going. At 0830 hrs when the stomachs started making the demands, we halted at Janpadaloka for a quick breakfast. Great food. The pig-out session lasted a mere 30 minutes.
Automotive Axles is not in Mysore, we were 5 km short of the land. We’d been tricked. So this blessed place called Hunsur was quite an eyesore and not Mysore. They make axles, a component you’d have a lot of respect for should you consider travelling in usually packed-to-capacity public transport. Packed to capacity may be an understatement, the buses are regularly seen leaning to one side (God help us!). We had the most despicable lunch there. The worst factory food ever.
Next stop- JK Tyres. If you like cars, buses, trucks, and absolutely love the safety these have to offer, I request you not to visit a tyre factory. You are sure to lose your confidence. A most depressing place. Dark, smelly, unbelievably hot, claustrophobic, and everything else you’d associate with a poorly kept work environment. As one colleague exclaimed – “Yeh to pakka baniya company hai.”
We were only glad to leave. On the way back is Srirangapatna, a name that rings a bell if you ever watched Doordarshan in the 90s. I’ll tell you why. 3 rivers meet at this point (I didn’t bother knowing which). There was also a large but obscure monument or garden of sort with a huge doorway that looked like an imitation Mughal fort. Some of the chaps started to walk towards it and I enquired with a colleague who stood closest to me as to what the place was about. What follows is the dialogue as spoken:
Me: “What is this place and where are those guys going?”
Colleague: “I think they do some horse-breeding in there.”
You must appreciate the chap’s imagination, now why didn’t I think of that? The place looked every bit the sort that would inspire an enthusiast of horse husbandry. A few minutes later, I discovered that it was the tomb of Tipu Sultan. No offense to his persona or his feat but what a way to preserve a tomb huh. Disgrace. Now you know why I mentioned Doordarshan; they used to telecast the Tipu Sultan story.
We returned to Hosur at 11 pm after a couple of blunders by the man at the wheel. It took him half an hour to realise that we were as a matter of fact circum-ambulating Electronic City. Anybody can get lost-agreed, but these guys are in the travel business for crying out loud!
Out Bound Training next ..uhm.. I’ll post that in a week?
Bhandara is a Personal Favorite!
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I was on a training excursion if I could call it that, for over 2 weeks last month. The places we covered were Ennore, which is North of Madras, Bhandara (near Nagpur, Maharashtra), and Mysore. While Ennore and Bhandara were plant training exercises that lasted more than 2 weeks, Mysore was a combined industrial visit. Let us begin.
Ennore is about 20 km north of Madras but needs to be accessed only from Madras. We reached Madras in a very comfortable bus arranged by the company. The distance of 300 odd kilometers was covered in 5 hours, most of which was spent sleeping. We were put up in a hotel in Parry’s, a dubious, multi-storeyed, commercial slum situated near the Madras Central Railway Station. Though the surroundings were shabby, the hotel in itself was quite habitable, and considering we were gonna be out 14 hours of the day, we didn’t really get bothered or have the time to be bothered by the surroundings. The daily excursion to the Ennore Plant felt more like a picnic. We were sent there to work on non-critical machines for a hands-on experience just in case there is a need, when the associates call for a strike. The weather in Madras is abominable, and it was not very hard to realise that it was the heat that was killing us. September 23rd was good riddance, we were on our way to Nagpur.
The Trivandrum-Korba Express halts in Madras for less than half hour between 2250 and 2315 hours. We were delighted as we boarded our air-conditioned cabins, all of us trainees together in a coach. We slept soon after. Scheduled to reach Nagpur the next day at 1630 hrs, we reached at 1730, the usual fare in India. A pre-arranged bus was to meet us there and ferry us to Bhandara. Bhandara is 65 kilometers East of Nagpur, in Vidarbha district, a name that rings a bell with farmer-suicides. However, Bhandara has not had a problem of suicides. Bhandara town is spread over 3800 sq Km; the weather system is moderate; the average literacy rate is 80.3%, that is higher than the national average of 59.3%; land rates, housing rentals are very very cheap; primary occupation is agriculture– almost every conceivable vegetable is grown here making Bhandara self-reliant in food; wheat, bajra, paddy, pulses are chief crops; the built-up area of residences, lodges, etc can be covered on foot. Most people travel on bicycles here. There were more bicycle shops than pharmacies within a mile. The accommodation in Bhandara was a lot more comfortable and much more spacious. The drinking water tasted funny and we learnt later from the inhabitants that it is heavier. Deuterium!?! We decided to guzzle down Aquafina instead. Adarsh Lodge looked creepy from the outside but was very hospitable. Run by a couple of old bags who looked like Maratha War Veterans. The best part about the whole thing was the food. The folks in Bhandara go full-on with groundnut oil. Everything has oil in it. Simply superb dishes were waiting to be gorged on and gorge we did. Four of us hogged at the dinner table and were full to the throat. What surprised us even more was that it cost us less than 250 smackers in total. The stuff that we ate- at least 16 butter-rotis, egg-bhurji, malai kofta, dal-fry, vegetables-do-pyaaza, paneer butter masala, and a round of lassi. Awesome what!
The food took our minds off the real crux of the trip– the plant training. Bhandara gearbox plant works from 0630 hrs to 1430 hrs. The plant is about 14 km from Bhandara town and it takes about 30 minutes to get there. The timings were so amazing, we got back at 1500 hrs and had the whole evening to us. Just the right conditions for food hogging. Yours truly weighs 70 kilograms now, which is just right for his height (6′ 0″). I used to be 67 kilograms. There is a 6 hour daily power load shedding but hell, one can’t have everything. We went on a sightseeing trip on the 2nd of October. We saw 3 places- Ramtek, Ramdham, and Khindsi. While Ramtek was just a temple on a hill, the elevation gave a breathtaking view. I will upload snaps asap. Its too good put in to words. Ramdham turned ou to be a town just like Bhandara, only with a religious past something to do with Lord Rama. We had lunch there, cheap as usual. Khindsi is a fabulous lake, picturesque to the T. We went paddle boating, and watched the sun set behind the hills, simply magnificent. Snaps are coming.
October 4 was finally the time to leave and we were all so disappointed that we had to– so soon after falling in love with the place. Some of us have decided that we will put our career interests on the side table for a while, opt for Production and take the first train to Bhandara. After all, what great mountains are you gonna scale in Marketing or Product Development, when the whole idea of life is to live it. The new bottomline is hard to ignore.
I’ll save Mysore for another time.
All Work And Play!
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For once, we shall not get in to details with regard to what took me so long. We will blame popular lethargy, Newton’s law of inertia of rest and the 3rd Law of Thermodynamics (Entropy approaching zero, life holds still and some such). Newton’s inertia of rest was short-lived. Yours truly now toils at work in Hosur, Tamil Nadu. The work (pre-work training) in itself is quite interesting at the moment, but what’s of even more interest is the sporting activities we employees are engaging in. The instructions are clear- we must keep ourselves fit by playing every evening or morning as we like. So while I am observing processes in the production unit, I am getting better and better at Table Tennis and Badminton; there’s no one here who has till date beaten me at either of the two. Worthy opponents are hard to come by. Thou shan’t be modest.
(Moving on )
You can always tell when squirrels are visiting your room while you’re gone. They leave the smallest of the crumbs behind on the window sill. I am quite alright with it so long as these cute little things don’t cut wire-cables or chew off the sheets. I am depending a lot on the fact that they know their way out if disturbed. The last thing we’d want is to witness the occupant and trespasser jumping about in chaotic frenzy, the former trying to get rid of the latter.
Be fore-warned, posts will be rare henceforth (may be interpreted as “consider yourself lucky”)
Stings or L’ Assaut Naturale 2em
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I’ll spare all readers disgusting pictures of this latest natural assault. We are dealing with something I’m not sure of but hurts very much when I type. Who’d have thought that a pang experienced during a leisure walk would result in rendering my right second finger painful and useless, albeit temporarily. First a monkey, and now a wasp or a spider which couldn’t mind its own business. Had it checked up by a doc a few moments ago. He was clueless but said he’d treat the wound.
Speaking of monkeys, recall the family of monkeys mentioned in the last natural assault. This family has many more off-springs now and thrives in the college campus. I spotted a really fat one that had trouble climbing onto a dustbin. There’s something about monkeys and dustbin raiding. I saw a drunken fool rifling through a municipality garbage bin the other day. Getting back to the monkeys in college, there is a paramilitary training exercise for the newly born. These guys a scaling the walls taking advantage of the slender grooves carved in them. Watching this from the classroom is quite a distraction and its confusing to learn that spider-man does similar things. Monkeys are a nuisance. It took a few rare breeds to delay an otherwise very slick project that I was working on.
