The Unlucky Man

Mukund was traveling from Jamnagar to Bombay (as Mumbai was called back then) in a third class compartment with 2 letters, a matriculation certificate, a pair of clothes and almost no money. The year was 1942, and India was in midst of turmoil with the struggle for freedom against the British Empire, and the world was involved in the World War.

Mukund was always thought of to be unlucky. He was born on Amavaysa (No Moon Night), considered extremely inauspicious. In Brahmin families those days, it seemed that your fate was written, depending on the position of planets at the time you were born. With a inauspicious horoscope, this poor boy was pitied on by relatives and neighbours for having now future.
Nor was he extremely bright boy at school. He failed his Matriculation examinations (in English and Mathematics no less). But that year the Queen of Jamnagar delivered a son (and an heir to the throne of the princely state under the British Raj) - and all students appearing for the exams were declared pass with grace marks, including Mukund.

Mukund was married off to another Brahmin girl, and the reason his father-in-law had agreed to accept him as a groom for his daughter was that he had graduated from high school. (Apparently no one mentioned that his passing the examination was under special circumstances, and so was the exact nature of his "inauspicious" time of birth)

A year post his marriage, Mukund continued to remain unemployed, and lived of his fathers income. His wife lost their first child to illness (in a time when infant mortality was common). Then tragedy struck again, when his father die of tuberculosis, leaving Mukund to fend for his family (his wife, his mother, 3 younger brothers and a sister). Everyone blamed it on his stars.
Unable to find a job in Jamnagar, an older relative suggested, he go to the metropolis of Bombay, to try out his luck there. It was said, anyone who was willing to work could find employment there.

Mukund was sent to Bombay, with some money, and a one way train ticket. He was travelling to a city 1000 km away, where he knew no one. He was also carrying two letters, which were written by a the relative. One was addressed to a distant relative, saying that Mukund was a Brahmin from a good family, and please provide him with lodging and boarding for a short while, till he finds a job. The other was to some one working in Scindia Steam Navigation, saying that the bearer of the letter had passed his High School Matriculation examination (albeit with grace marks) Please provide him employment of any suitable nature.

Relatives, neighbours and acquaintances all thought it would be worthless. Anyways Mukund was unlucky. He couldn't find a job at home, how would he fend for himself alone far away?

Fortunately, some one at Scindia Steam Navigation pitied him, gave him a job as a clerk at Victoria Dock. While things were going smoothly there, on April 14, 1944 there was a huge blast in the docks. [See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bombay_Explosion_(1944) ]
SS Fort Stikine, which was carrying gold, cotton and explosives had caught fire. The explosion resulted in gold bars flying around. Mukund was trapped in debris in the godown of the dock, and unable to wiggle out to collect the gold. (again he cursed his luck). The luckier colleagues all ran outside to pick up gold bars, when the second and more powerful blast killed most of them.
Mukund survived the blast, since he was unlucky.

This changed his outlook in life. He stopped feeling unlucky. He believed that destiny had saved him now. Destiny had made him pass his examinations. Luck was on his side as he got a job and place to live with ease. The stars and horoscope was all humbug, and though you couldnt choose the cards dealt to you, it was all upto you to play your cards accordingly.

Now had this been a Hindi movie, he would've participated in the freedom struggle, and build a massive business empire. But he did none of that.
He worked in Scindia Steam Navigation till his retirement in 1981 as a diligent (but never a smart) employee. He and his wife raised 4 children. And he lived to be nearly 89.

And he retold this story many times over to his oldest grandchild. That's me.

He took me to see my first live cricket match, at Wankhede Stadium in 1993, where India beat England. (Anil Kumble took 6 wickets and Vinod Kambli scored a double hundred). He also taught me how to board a running mumbai local train to catch a window seat. (he was 71 and I was 11).

If he were alive, today would have been his 90th birthday.
He wasnt the one to believe in rituals, he demanded in his will that his body be donated for medical research.
So though he isnt there any more, may be his body is dissected in the Anatomy Department of Lokmanya Tilak Medical Hospital in Sion, Mumbai.

Happy Birthday Bapu-ji.

Strange Encounter with a Mystic Astrologer

This is the first time I am spending the Chinese New Year in an East Asian city. This is the Lunar Year of the Rabbit. I have been vaguely aware about each of the years associated with an animal (or a bird, or a fictitious creature such as a dragon) and the existence of horoscopes depending on the year of your birth. Though I am a sceptic, I dug out a few websites on the internet to check out my future in the year of the Rabbit. Unfortunately, all of the sources said simply one thing. The rabbit and the rooster (the bird signifying my birth year) do not get along. How much ever I tried, all sources said the same thing. Some websites tried to sugar coat the message but that was it. I had resigned for 2011 being a tough year for me.

Then came the first day of the New Year of the Rabbit. Despite it being a public holiday in Singapore, I had to be at work for a few hours. (As I said, I expected life to be tough in the year, I plodded along without complaining)

Post work when I was walking back towards home, an old Indian gentleman with a long grey beard stopped me and said in impeccable English 'Sir, you have a lucky face, and destiny shall smile upon you soon'. I was taken aback and asked him why. He told me that he was an Astrologer, his name was Yogi Singh, and had studied Vedic astrology for 21 years under the guidance of his Guru in the Himalayas. He also mentioned that he was visiting Singapore for a short while, and it was destiny which had lead us to meet here on the footpath.

Having some time to kill, and being curious, I stopped to listen more about what he wanted to say, and get some idea about my future.

The Astrologer first asked my date of birth, and then looked up towards the sky, pretended to mumble something, and then he took a good look at the lines on my palm and the creases on my forehead (did I have any?). After this he made the following statements about me: (which in hindsight were generic statements which could be applicable to anyone)

(1) You have big thoughts, but are unable to implement them. You are capable of far greater success, than what you have achieved in your career. (Hmmm, I guess every person might be thinking on the same lines, whether or not they have achieved in excess of their true talent and capabilities)

(2) You are open hearted and often speak your mind. You blindly trust others, but those you trust are secretly plotting behind your back, and bad mouth you in front of others. (again a statement one might like to believe about yourself being the nice simple hearted naive person. I may not be Machiavelli, but I am surely not the simpleton he suggested.)

(3) The last few years have been tumultuous and volatile for you. (This is another generic statement, could be applicable to anyone. Yes I have had my fair share of ups and downs, and worked in 3 different countries for 3 different employers in the last 5 years, but that could be applicable to anyone working in the Financial Services Industry in the time of the 'Credit Crisis' and the 'Great Recession')

(4) You are an easy going person, and money comes and goes easily from your hand. You are generous but lot of people exploit your generosity. (Though anyone would like to think of themselves on these lines, people who know me would say I am more of a stingy bas****d, but for this trait i blame my conservative brahminical upbringing in a middle class, Gujarati household)

(5) A girl whom I have hurt in the past, has put me under an evil spell, and this is the hindrance in my career ahead.
(Who could this lady be? I couldn't think of anyone, but by now I was almost hypnotized by the astrologer, and would have believed any more generic statements he said)

This suddenly sounded a lot like the protagonist in R.K. Narayan's short story that I had to study for my ICSE, An Astrologers Day'
But at that point of time I was actually falling in the trap.

He then asked me to think of the first thing that came in my mind. He wrote down something on a paper chit, and told me to hold the chit in my hand. I don't know why, but I thought of a Blue Lotus (may be inspired by the Tintin comic by Herge of the same title). Mr Yogi Singh then took the chit from my hand, clenched it in his fist, chanted a small prayer and then asked me to do the same. Lo and behold, when I opened the chit, it had the word 'Blue Lotus' written on it. (It could have so easily been switched when he took the chit in his fist and chanted the prayer. But till then I still was enchanted by this mystic seer)

Then finally he said, that to ward of the hindrances in my life, for me to climb the ladder of success in my career, to find one true love, live a long age and have two healthy children (his words stated verbatim) he would offer flowers to the Shiva Ling in the Himalayan Temple (how would he do this while he was in Singapore is a different question altogether) and pray for me daily. This would be done once I paid a fee of S$1000.

This is when I suddenly woke up. Now if you learn anything in a Conservative Middle Class Gujarati household in suburban Mumbai, is before spending money, take a deep breath, and count till 10. If you still think your purchase is worth the expense, only then do you go ahead and buy. For once I heeded to my parents advice, and then I understood the generic phoney statements. As soon as I refused to pay, the guy said for a fee of S$500 he would tell me the first letter of the name of the lady who was casting an evil eye on me. I joked back saying I have broken hearts of more than 26 women, so this wouldn't help me narrow down the list (Like most of my jokes, even here no one laughed). Now he got flustered and said that I had spent his time, and used his expertise and I owed him S$100.

Now finding myself in a sticky situation, I walked away seeing the closest bus stop tried to board a bus (as one might know, you never get a taxi in Singapore when you want one, and I boarded the first bus I saw, even though it was the wrong route number, and was going in the opposite direction). The guy chased me on to the bus, and told me that I could contact him on his email and gave me some Indian Mobile number. Took out a few books from his bag as the vedic texts where he learnt his astrology, and showed some pictures of him with other old Indian men with even longer beards wearing saffron robes, saying these were the great holy men from whom he had learnt the art of astrology.

This pestering almost created a scene, and the other passengers in the bus were staring at me as if I had done something wrong. I tried to get rid of him by offering ten dollars, but this was refused. Seeing a bus stop approaching, I finally said 'Please read your own palm again, and see if you had some money destined for this day' Saying this i quickly alighted the bus, and jay walked across the road and caught a empty cab (rare and lucky phenomenon in Singapore) and headed home.

Only after I reached my apartment I felt a sense of relief. It was then I thanked my stars I didn't fall for the phoney astrologer. So after all this Year of the Rabbit wasn't so bad after all.

P.S.
Wish all my readers (yes both of you) a Happy Chinese New Year of the Rabbit. Gong Xi Fa Chai ! and hope you don't fall in traps laid by phoney astrologers.

Tom Sawyer and the art of making Dosa

One lazy afternoon on a weekend, I suddenly had that craving of eating dosa (rice and lentil pancakes, traditionally cooked in south india) and unfortunately having seen my credit card statement the week before, I wasnt really inclined to eat out.

The only option was cooking it myself. The minor problem is that my culinary skills the less said the better. The only previous time I had attempted to make dosas, I burnt all the batter, and the results were disastrous to say the least.

Suddenly my 4th standard english lesson came to mind. (an extract from Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, the part where Tom has to whitewash Aunt Polly's fence)

So I got into action, I looked up my contact lists, and knew 3 south indian guys in Dubai*. Suryaprasad Krishnamoorthy, Shankarnarayanan Ravikrishnan, and Raj Menon**. (Damn, I should have known a guy with a short name like Raj Menon would be a fraud south indian, and wouldnt know his Rasam from his Sambhar)

Then I call up these 3 south indian blokes, and invite them for dinner to have dosa.
In the mean time, I go buy the necessary ingredients from the neighbourhood supermarket serving indian stuff.

Dinner time, I start cooking, and kind of deliberately mess up the first dosa, which leads to Suryaprasad taking the lead, and teaching me how to make a perfect one. I tell him, that yes I know cooking is fun, but then I was kind enough to let him do the honours.
In the meantime, Shankarnarayan makes a fiery rasam and sambhar. Yes I have a large heart, and allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of cooking. Raj Menon, true to his short name, stands and stares in the kitchen.
I meanwhile, act as the head chef, and direct everyone on how to make the Dosa more crispy, and how the sambhar a little more spicy.

While these guys slaved away in the kitchen, I put a DVD and watched a movie, while having dinner. And after having a wholesome dinner (burrrppp!!!) I gently prod Raj, asking him to wash up the dishes, since he didnt contribute anything in the kitchen yet, while I washed down the food with a cold beer.

And just like Mark Twain had written 150 years ago, these guys were not only thrilled to come home, cook food for me, and then even clean up afterwards, the also mentioned "Nirav, we should do this more often"

Need I say some tricks are ever green.

Note:
*: Would have been much better if I knew 3 lovely south indian women to come and cook, but unfortunately I dont know any in Dubai yet. :(
**: names might have been changed, to protect identity and ensure that these guys remain gullible enough to cook for me once more.

Jimmy Cayne of Bear Stearns

I read the interview of Jimmy Cayne the CEO of Bear Stearns (which has now been bought over by JP Morgan) the first big casualty of the Credit Crunch.

Inspite of everything that has been said about Jimmy Cayne (how he was playing bridge while Bear Stearns was sinking, akin the Roman emperor Nero playing the fiddle while Rome was burning) I still find a couple of things extremely interesting.

(1) He is a college drop out, and was a CEO of a multibillion dollar company which he was not the founder member. (I know Bill Gates, Michael Dell and Steve Jobs are also college drop outs, but they founded their own businesses). I guess it tells us about the times how they were different earlier, now without college education one really cant get a white collar job I guess.

(2) His line about how he got the job at Bear Stearns, is right out of a movie

Greenberg asked Cayne if he had any hobbies. Along with magic and yo-yos, bridge was a serious interest of Greenberg's. "And I said, 'Yes, I play bridge,'" Cayne recalled. "You could see the electric light bulb. He says, 'How well do you play?' I said, 'Mr. Greenberg, if you study bridge the rest of your life, if you play with the best partners and you achieve your potential, you will never play bridge like I play bridge.'"

You could have a young Amitabh Bachhan out of Deewar saying such a dialogue. (Instead of saying, "Main aaj bhi gire hue paise nahi uthha ta") Needless to say Jimmy Cayne is one of the best players in the world, and was recently ranked world no. 225 (I dont know what is his best ranking though)

Big Sailing Yacht

This is what I saw last Saturday at Portsmouth Harbour, (returning from Gosport where my sailing school Adrenaline Sailing is)

This is the 99 foot long sailing Yacht owned by Hugo Boss.

Isnt she lovely?

(Also I will have to soon blog about Sailing ... this is long long overdue)



And this is with the Spinnaker Tower in the background (it is the shape of the spinnaker sail used in racing yachts while sailing downwind)



Damn looking at these massive boats, all I can think is when will i buy mine. (I doubt I will ever be able to buy a 100 foot sailing boat, but a regular 36-40 footer will do)

One more pic (before the sails were being brought down as it is entering the harbour)




One more last question to all readers, if you ever buy a boat what would you name it?
I am confused myself, so help me think about a appropriate (hopefully funny) name for a boat.

Nirav goes flying ...

Well well well, I should have been blogging more often, especially when I have the time, as well as things to blog about.

As the topic suggests I did go flying, but flying commercial is not a big deal anyways, but I was lucky enough to be invited by a colleague (Mr. P) who has a share in a private plane, to hop on for a joy ride.

The plane which he has is a Ukrainian ex-military jet, used for training of pilots in the Ukrainian Air Force (YAK-30) and is a reliable plane for aero-batics.

Now P has this expensive hobby of flying these gas guzzlers (I am usually a person with a low carbon footprint, not having a Television at home and all) and doing all those crazy stunts like loops, flips and figure of eights, as well as flying upside down. He suggested I join him one fine sunday. Well I am never the one to say no for an adventure I agreed.

The airfield was outskirts of Greater London (outside the M25 ring road) and the nearest tube station was Epping (Far east on the Central Line) and got a ride in P's car to the North Weald airfield.

Before I boarded the plane, I was given a detailed briefing about the plane and its operating parts, and before starting the engine a serious check was done that all the moving parts were moving, and the parts which shouldnt move were not moving. (Unlike a car one cant suddenly stop a few feet ahead and fix the problems)

Then when I entered the passenger seat (mind you it is a training jet and the passenger sits behind the pilot, and has over-riding controls and a complete sets of instruments in the cockpit) I was told to strap the parachute and the seat belt.
Then Mr P said that incase of some trouble, he would try and land the plane, on some open fields but if in the worst case scenario that wasnt possible, I should open the hatch above me, and release the seat belt, and jump up, and then pull open the parachute chord.
Now this is simpler said than done. This wasnt some simple seat belt, it had straps from your shoulders and well as below from your legs.
The parachute was also strapped similarly.
In case of an emergency what if I not only nstrapped the seat belt, but also the parachute and then jumped off?
When the time came to pull the chord, it would be all over, (not that my blog readers would notice, since I post so infrequently anyways) Though I am joking about it now, it made me sweat profusely during the period of the flight.

The ride was absolutely exhilirating, and we flew from North Weald to the east coast of England, towards the Thames Estuary and the mouth of the River Crouch (just north of Thames) flowing into the North Sea. The pilot was generous enough to let me take the control for a while (it was a training plane) and let me make a simple left turn and right turn (though he held the acceleration pedals, i only turned the joystick around)
The greatest part was the take off and landing, one hardly felt a thing (more like a wheeelie on a motorcylce than the stressful ear piercing take off on a commercial passenger plane)

I dont think anywords can describe the true feeling, (atleast I am not all that expressive) but during the loops I experienced 4G acceleration force, and rest I leave the pictures to do the talking

The pilot Mr P



The Passenger Nirav




The 9 cylinder radial engine



The cockpit (Passenger)



The Scenery below from the plane

Sailing

One of the few things I have learnt (apart from at work) after moving to London has been sailing. Sailing a dinghy or a Yacht simply using windpower is one of the most amazing things I have experienced.

Infact when reading "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome (written in the year 1888) I came across this paragraph

There is no more thrilling sensation I know of than sailing. It comes as near to flying as man has got to yet - except in his dreams. The wings of rushing wind seem to be bearing you onward, you know not where. You are no longer the slow, plodding, puny thing of clay, creeping tortously upon the ground; you are a part of Nature! Your heart is throbbing against hers. Her glorious arms are round you, raising you up against her heart! Your spirit is at one with hers; your limbs grow light! The voices of the air are singing to you. The earth seems far away and little; and the clouds so close above your head, are brothers, and you stretch your arms to them

(Note: the book was written before the Wright Brothers had invented with the aeroplane) Anyways the principle behind sailing as well as planes flying is the same. The difference in pressure across the sail (or the wing of an aeroplane for that matter) gives a thrust and leads to the boat moving or the plane flying.

The book is one helluva hilarious read, and though it has been written 120 years ago, still describes London and the River Thames well, and makes me wonder so little has changed since then.
Even the humour about planning for a trip and packing, about different ways men and women tow a boat (can be extrapolated to any task though) remains true. It is one sure evergreen book.

And as for sailing I am extremely lucky to have been introduced to this sport by Hemant on the River Charles in Boston 2 years ago, and am lucky to be living in London which has a great sailing culture.

The Telectroscope - connecting London and New York

I was walking by the River Thames, on the southbank from Tower Bridge to London Bridge, there i see this big new structure which with people gathered around it.



It turns out be a "Telectroscope" between London and New York with apparently a tunnel running from London to New York beneath the ocean bed of the Atlantic.

I find it hard to believe, and I guess its just something of a web camera.

The locations are also iconic, near the 2 most popular bridges in either city. (Brooklyn Bridge in NY and Tower Bridge in London) where many tourists frequent.

You can see more about it on the website

Snow in April??!!??

The weather in the UK, is so damn unpredictable, on Thursday the temperatures are north of 15 degree Celcius, and on Sunday there is snow. As one friend had rightly pointed out, "Never go short vol(ality) on UK weather"

Again today there was heavy snow (about an inch) till noon, while in the evening at 5PM it is bright and sunny all over again. (Though it looked nice and bright, with lots of sunshine, it was a bit too cold outside)

As it is said in Chaos Theory a butterfly flapping its wings in rain forests of Brazil, might cause a storm in India. Well if that is true, I am sure there might be a bunch of butterflys flapping their wings somewhere, which causes total chaos of the weather in London.

(Though I guess there are reasons for the weather to be so volatile here, I guess it is just too volatile for a person coming from a place where is summer for 8 months and rains for 4, with little variations)