teddysdreamland's blog

Pardon the gestation period for my blogs. They may soon beat the elephant at its own game. Well, continuing from where I left last time

Around 4:00pm in the afternoon, I got in touch with Maddy, to check if our date was still on. He confirmed a time between 5:00 and 5:15pm. Raghu (Maddy's younger brother) was also going to join us. More the merrier, I thought.

It was 4:50pm and I had posted myself right in front of the vendor's office gates on Sterling road; the mutually agreed meeting point. I usually am early to a friendly meet; call it punctuality or simple unbridled excitement of getting together with friends. The same happened here as well. The afternoon sun was a little uncomfortable, but the anticipation just took away all the discomfort. The clock ticked over 5:00pm and slowly crept past 5:05pm, no sign of Maddy yet.

My patience had started to give in and I was already SMSing him. Came the reply, "I am on my way, just 2 minutes away". Having spent ample time around marketing/sales professionals, replies like "2 minutes away", "round the corner" usually meant that the person had just started and was nowhere nearby.  So I revised my expectation to 5:30pm as the earliest that I would get to see these guys. Waiting was now becoming a little boring and I was becoming an object of intrigue for the passer by. I am not sure whether the reason was my disposition or my dress (I guess wearing a lounge coat and standing under the hot Chennai sun must be something unusual). Sharp at 5:15pm, a car pulled next to me and a gentleman alighted from it, with a smile and a quizzing look in askance "Are you the one that I am looking for?". I too probably carried a similar ex-pression.

Well, our individual hunches were right and Teddy finally met Maddy. A warm hug and some exchange of pleasantries later, we were headed to my hotel, so that I could dress down a bit. Moreover it was too early for any evening activities. Soon Maddy and me were chatting up, while Raghu for most parts played the silent participant. I am not sure whether me and Maddy were too engrossed and he felt a little left out in the process.

I realized that Maddy looked different from the original picture that he had on the iLand, the one with the thick moustache et al (he has a much younger version on iLand these days). The gent I met was clean shaven with a boyish charm and eyes that crinkles at the edges when he flashes his charming smile. The hair was cut short and the gone were the curls that we saw in his original iLand photo. His well rounded personality could have easily earned him the Teddy Bear tag. He comes across as a blithe spirit who speaks from the heart, i.e. there is no mental editing happening to his sentences during a conversation. I like such people and I try hard to be one like them. But I have not yet mastered their art. I often mentally filter my conversation to ensure diplomacy and decorum, in other words avoid the 'foot in mouth' situation. Probably the requirements of my job has made me that way or I just don't possess the skill or temperament to speak freely and still say the right things, a talent which Maddy seems to have in abundance.

We were soon at Park Sheraton. I had shed my coat and was feeling a bit more comfortable. In the meanwhile Maddy was telling me about all the wealth that Raghu was amassing and hiding away somewhere. As a Private Wealth Management guy he has now tasked me to find out the whereabouts of Raghu's booty. I told him that probably it is under some "Numbered A/c" a term used in the PWM world for anonymity.

The focus then shifted to family and Maddy is one lucky guy who has his siblings and parents, all staying in the same city as him, a rare phenomenon these days. From his conversations I could see that he loves his two cubs (since he qualifies to be a Bear) a lot. The way Maddy is, I am sure he enjoys a fabulous relationship with both his sons.

By the time we had finished one round of discussing family and our own personal details, it was already around 7.00pm, time to leave for dinner. Maddy and Raghu took me to this fabulous place called 'Malgudi'. The food was authentic South Indian (all states included) and fantastic in taste. I recommend this place to those who plan to visit Chennai.

Over dinner Maddy told me more about his business. For your information, he is an entrepreneur who is planning to make it big in the world of publishing. He already has done quite a bit in this realm and I guess his is a brand name which is recognized at least in this part of the world. Given his enthusiasm I am sure we will hear a lot more about Maddy and his company in times to come. Dinner finished, the brothers brought me back to my hotel and we parted wishing good night, promising to meet each other again whenever I was in Chennai.

Keeping with my promise I met Maddy again during my next visit and this time I got to meet his wife and kids and also got to see his office or should I say Den. I will write about it in my next edition, whenever that happens.

PS ' Maddy has his own views about blogging during company time, which many of us do.

Here comes a lot of LUV and a BIG BEAR HUG  to all my dear iLand Friends.

For the past couple of months, I have been totally inactive on the iLand, from a contribution point. I am aware that quite a few missed me  and for some it was good probably riddance  but I am back again . 

Blame my absence on my job. This new assignment has been exacting to say the least. It is consuming a lot of my personal time, which otherwise used to be spent with family, and that includes all you great people out there.

Working hours have become crazy, add travel to that and bingo! you have the perfect recipe for stress disaster. At office, for hours, attending seminars, meetings, dinners and then sitting in a hotel room, away from family, staring at the ceiling and the lifeless artwork around, just not my kind of lifestyle. It sucks, to say the least. Lahore was so much more interesting than Geneva and Zurich. Kasam Se!

But the silver lining among all that gloom has been my recent visits to Chennai (on work off course). It has provided me with the opportunity to meet one of our favorite iLanders, PK Madhavan. I met Maddy first in Feb and then again recently a week ago. I had wanted to write about it since, but time proved to be a spoil sport.

I arrive at Chennai on a Sunday in Feb. Having suffered quite a bit of the traffic chaos in Mumbai and B'lore I was expecting something less stressful in Chennai. I soon realized that Chennai was to be no different. The traffic bug has hit Chennai too, you can't get across from one place to another without waiting endlessly at about a million traffic signals, which makes you wonder about the utility of these signals. Aren't they suppose to improve the flow of traffic and not otherwise. Somehow I always feel that in our country traffic signals are made at the wrong place for the wrong reasons. Recently I heard that at Bannerghatta Circle in B'lore, after building an underpass and a flyover to remove a perennial traffic bottleneck, the road authorities have now installed a traffic signal on the flyover. Now that seems to be an extremely innovative idea. Doesn't it? I guess, planning doesn't exist even as a concept, in our Public Sector institutions. Sorry, the pent up frustration made me digress from the main topic.

Back to Chennai.

My previous acquaintances with Chennai was mostly limited to the Rajaji Salai stretch, more towards the Clive Battery end, adjacent to the port, where my uncle used to live in a company accommodation. My brief Chennai visits during those days were mostly spent walking about the small shops that litter this part of the Rajaji Salai, starting from Paris Point until midway to Clive Battery, selling various imported (not sure whether original) goods. This market place used to have a name, can’t remember now, Moor market perhaps.

A walk on the Rajaji Salai would usually cover you with a visible layer of black soot like substance, which I was told is coal dust. However the vicinity of Park Sheraton (a.k.a Adayar Park) at Nungambakam and my route to the vendor's office at Sterling road, was a far better experience, compared to Rajaji Salai one. The pollution around this area was not that bad and the nearby Ispahana Center (I guess I got it right) and the City Center provided ample opportunities to spend an evening.

I found the Feb weather to be quite nice as well, especially during the early part of the day, which was a pleasant surprise, because Chennai to me was synonymous with sultry conditions. The Park Sheraton, where I was holed up is a beaten down structure of a  hotel, when compared to all the cool ones in Mumbai, which includes the Sheraton Grand Maratha and Sheraton Central. The strong mushy smell of moisture laden fabric, the not so spic n span toilets and the drab upholstery did not seem to be too promising for a comfortable stay. Now I am not trying to be too uppity here, just demanding the quality that the price deserves. Within the first hour of stay, I had made up my mind that I wont be staying there again, little knowing that there was more inconvenience to follow.

The Lufthansa flight crew who happened to be sharing the same floor with me, decided to let their hair down just around midnight. These guys and gals got themselves into one of the rooms and just went berserk, yelling, shouting and doing what not. Given that CET is about 4.5 hrs behind IST during Feb, for them it was just the beginning of a great evening, but for poor me who was already 2.5 hours behind in sleep time (Singapore vs IST), it was too much to bear. Frantic calls to the reception fetched nothing but the standard response of "We are looking into it Sir or We are sending somebody there right now". The din however didn't ebb and I guess whoever went up to stop it, perhaps ended up joining the gang.

Bleary eyed, the next morning I went down and lodged a strong complaint with the management and they had the balls to say that they were not aware of such an incident. So much for customer care and service. As India embraces consumerism, customer service still leaves a lot to be desired. But I am hopeful that we will improve.

I was planning to meet Maddy urf PK Madhavan later that day. A phone call later we decided to meet in front of my vendor's office on Sterling road at 5:00pm.

Holding back my excitement was going to be difficult. Whoa! I was going to meet another iLander.

PS - I noticed that PK M has tagged me. I will be responding to the tag once I have finished my Chennai piece.


To be continued…

Hello iLanders…I am in Chennai on a Biz visit 26-28 Feb…staying at Park Sheraton…

Pls let me know if anyone of you would have the spare time and patience to meet up with this friendly Bear.

TED

Poetry, some say, is often created in moments of inspiration. Probably true.

Here, I just wanted to talk on the interpretation of poems. I think, as readers, we often interpret a poem in various ways, sometimes not even remotely close to the original inspiration.

Starting from my days at school, when teacher's used to hammer their interpretation of the  poet's inspiration, into our minds. The Skylark by P B Shelly used to give me nightmares. I never understood what the teacher tried to convey and neither took the pain to have my own interpretation. I often used to wonder whether the poet would have agreed with my teacher in the first place.

Recently I wrote a piece called 'Kashmakash'. Those who have not read it I request you to do so before reading any further.

Fellow islanders commented on Kashmakash and the variety in comments was evident. Somebody said it was the beginning of another love story. Another probably thought that I was two timing. Some equated it to the Devdas/Paro/Chandramukhi triangle. And few interestingly said that I should have both i.e. Paro and Chandramukhi.

After reading and smiling through those comments I decided that I should share with you what exactly inspired me to write Kashmakash.

I have been an electronics buff for a long time now. Gizmos catch my attention and hold it for hours together. My favorite haunts in Singapore are the Harvey Normans and such other stores.

While in Geneva, I noticed that the store right below my office was an Apple showroom. And guess what they were showing previews (on computer) of the iPhone. I went down and spent an hour going through previews. Impressive to say the least.

Then I looked at my Sony Ericsson 910i. It has been with me for the last one year and more, through thick and thin, extremely faithful and handy. I cant remember even a single instance when it crashed or when I lost data due to some failure. But now after 1 year it was shorn of color and there were scratches on the screen, it was no more the sexy thing that it used to be.

After seeing the iPhone, I felt that the sound quality of my P910i was horrible and the picture quality, just atrocious. The user interface of iPhone was just beyond imagination for a P910i owner. Add to that the bunch of new features. The enticing factors were too many. Man!!! is this iPhone cool or what? I was drooling and must say was completely floored. I started to wonder whether I should trade in my P910i and take an iPhone as soon as it is available.

This whole experience sowed the seeds of 'Kashmakash' in my mind. And when I found some spare time, I scripted out that short poem with my imagination adding a little bit more to the original experience. Thus Husn (iPhone) and Wafa (P910i) of my short poem were born.

Now that brings me back to the "poet's inspiration" that my English teachers used to drum into my head. It used to be so stressful that I hated PB Shelly, RL Stevenson et al. Even now I am not sure whether I spelt their names correctly.

To all you English teachers, who might read this, please teach your wards to enjoy a poem. Teach them to interpret it their way and don't impose your interpretation on them. Grade them based on the ingenuity, beauty and relevance of their interpretation and not on how close they came to regurgitating your interpretation.

PS - This is not a complain against teachers and no hard feelings either against them. I hope teachers will take it in the right spirit.

Kaun hai meri humsafar

Woh, jisne mere

Sapnon ko sajaaya.

Ya woh, jisne meri

Zindagi ko sanwaara.

Woh, jisne mujhe

Pyaar karna sikhaaya.

Ya woh, jisne mujhe

Jeeney ka rasta dikhaaya.

Woh, jo meri har

Saans mein basi hai,

Ya woh, jo lahoo bankar

Ragon mein samaayi hai.

Woh, jo adaaon se

Leti hai meri jaan,

Ya woh, jo mujh par

Chidakti hai apni jaan.

Woh, jo hai saawan ki ghata,

Baras kar chali jaaye,

Ya woh, jo sooraj ki kiran,

Har sehar chali aaye.

Kaun hai meri humsafar,

Mujhe yeh nahi pataa,

Ek taraf hai husn khada,

Dooji taraf hai wafaa.

Hey folks..i was rushed to Zurich on short notice..to catch an important workshop..and I did not complain..I was booked on to the train between Geneve and Zurich..the scenary was nothing but breathtaking..i am uploading some pics which include the wayside scenary along with pics of the Alps, the towns of Lausanne and Bern (capital of Switzerland)..all the while I had believed that Zurich was the capital until recently when i was enlightened by a local..

enjoy..most of the pics have been taken off a high speed train..so please bear with any haziness due to the shake..the URL as usual… photos.yahoo.com/teddy007bear

there are so many more..i wish i could invite you all over to my office and go through these pics on my monitor..

TED

ps - it might take some time to upload so pls be patient if you dont find it the first time.

Hey Friends..u can see some more pics at this URL..
photos.yahoo.com/teddy007bear

hope u appreciate my budding photography skills..

TED

Helloooo…my dear friends…I just cant find enough time to write..however I have this picture which I shot last Sunday. It is the Lac Le’man (a beautiful lake) and the water fountain on the side is called the Jet d’Eau (meaning a jet of water). This is probably the second tallest thing in Geneva after the Cathedral with its tall spire. I have all the pics..probably i will upload them at some yahoo photo site and give you all the address to access. As I said earlier, I have a lot of work on hand at present and am not able to blog as much as I would have loved to, but this I guess would ensure that you all still remember me..b’coz some wise alec said…out of sight, out of mind..and I am in no mood to be out of your minds or hearts.. .. so pls bear with me if you dont see me on your ilands and if I am not commenting on your creativity…TED

WISHING YOU ALL A HAPPY, HEALTHY N WEALTHY NEW YEAR
while the pic uploads..i will try to write up my last 3 months on the iland..or should i say the first 3 months..

…TED

Come Monday, I was up early, had a quick bite and went out on a shopping spree. We traveled on roads not yet seen and once again they all looked similar to ones back home but sans the mad traffic. I chuckle when my Pakistani friends complain about 15 minute traffic jams at signals; these guys need to experience the traffic fiasco that is called the "airport road" in Bangalore and probably they will never complain again.

I indulged myself liberally in shopping and blew up no less than PKR 12,000 in between a few blinks, at Zaidi sports, located in the Chiburzi bazaar area (hope I got the name of the area right); all on some cricket stuff. At the end, my luggage was heavier by, a beautiful CA bat, a pair of pads, batting gloves and a spacious kit bag.

My cricket shopping spirit satiated, I went to meet AK at National College of Arts. The tall well built gate keeper let us in once we introduced ourselves as acquaintances of AK. The college had that typical look associated with buildings from "the raaj" era; red in color with high arched gates, so reminiscent of Mughal architecture as well. The fountainhead at the center of the campus stood decommissioned; or at least I thought so. Looking at the building I wondered how much of its architecture was influenced by the English and how much by the Mughal style, in which arches, domes and spires are so much the central theme. Being a professor of Architecture, I think AK is the best resource to clarify this point. Groups of starry eyed young wards of the college, occupied various vantage points, some engrossed in deep discussions while others were laughing and having fun; just like any other college anywhere else.

I met him at work, busy with his students. They had a project to submit within a short deadline; I guess they call short timelines as "deadline" because the responsible party literally falls dead by the time he/she/they finishes the job. In short AK and his pupils were working their butts off. We exchanged a short conversation; and a quick good-bye-hug later, I was heading towards my hotel.

After consuming a super fast meal right in my room, I started packing my luggage to begin the journey back home. By 3.00pm I was all packed and ready. The guys had agreed to meet downstairs at quarter to five; so that left me with enough time to catch some Z's, I mean  a short nap.

I woke up at 4:30pm and in a few minutes was ready to go down. The room service person who was in charge of my floor, dropped by and in his usual polite way checked "Mere laayak koi khidmat?" (How may I help you?). I politely refused and let him know that I was checking out. "Agar koi ghalti hui hai to muaafi chaahta hoon." (In case of any mistake, I seek forgiveness), he added.

"Man, when was the last time I heard that at a hotel?", I wondered, and I have had the privilege of being serviced by some of the good ones in India and abroad. The best they have is a card left on your table which allows you to comment on their service; you never know where those comments go anyway, least of all when they are nasty. Anyway, I am not sure whether it was his language (I personally am a big fan of Urdu) or the genuine concern shown, I felt very happy. A full "five star" for his service.

By 4:45pm, done with my check out routine, I was there waiting for the rest of my buddies. Needless to mention, they came down a full 15 minutes late; I should be glad that it was quite early by their usual standards. All formalities completed, we boarded the bus on our way back to the airport. By 6.00pm we had checked in our luggage and were waiting at the immigration counter designated for foreign passport holder. There were half a dozen people in front of us, obviously with Pakistani passports. The young immigration officer-in-charge was not very happy with this breach of rule and was continuously complaining about the situation to a senior colleague, who was trying to console him. However, interestingly both of them refrained from confronting the wrong doers. The offenders had their way and eventually went through. The next in queue were the two Indian passport holders in our team, myself and PC. PC gave his passport and the immigration papers (remember the famous set of papers that I lost in my first episode) and was soon let in. I extended my passport and documents, praying hard that they won't mind the duplicates of my immigration papers. The senior officer noticed exactly that and raised his head in askance "Original kahaan hai?" (Where are the originals?) he queried. My heart skipped a beat. "Oh Boy! Am I in trouble?".

Just then help arrived, in form of an angel. She was looking for Iqbal with a letter of reference in her hand. I noticed that the young officer-in-charge's tag read ‘Iqbal’; so she was looking for him. I could not figure out if she was seeking some out-of-the-way favor here; one thing though was very clear, Iqbal was in no mood to oblige. His reluctance to pay heed to the lady’s persistent requests got the senior officer into action, especially when he heard the name of the referring party, probably some big shot. He chopped the stamp of approval on my papers and rushed to the lady's help. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Iqbal chuckled to himself, uttering "Chalo kam se kam aaj to kisi khubsoorat cheez ney humaara naam liyaa" (At least today a pretty thing mentioned my name). He caught me smiling at that comment and continued, "Hum Indians ko ek doosre ki zubaan samajh mey aa jaati hai" (We Indians understand each others language.) and quickly proceeded to correct himself, "Indian aur Pakistani ko ek doosre ki zubaan samajh mey aa jaati hai" (Indian and Pakistani understand each others language). Now that may sound a bit bizarre by common logic, but I swear I heard those words; I am not sure whether I was dreaming, not in my senses or whatever, but I am sure I heard those exact same words.

Anyway, we were soon boarding the SQ 460 back to Singapore. If you had read the previous posts you will remember that the Singapore-Lahore flight was also SQ460; not the usual naming convention where the return fligh number is different. Well, so long everything about this trip had been special, so even this had to be so. This flight apparently fly circular routes i.e. Singapore-Lahore-Karachi-Singapore on a Monday and Singapore-Karachi-Lahore-Singapore on a Wednesday and hence it uses the same flight number for both to and fro journeys. Our flight was flying the former of the two routes.

As we settled into our own seats, we noticed that the half a dozen unruly guys who were in front of us in the immigration queue, had joined us here with another 25 odd of their own kind. They were so different from the people we had seen until now in Pakistan. They looked different, they smelt different and they spoke a different language. Apparently they were from the North West Province of Pakistan and were speaking Pakhtoon. Let me tell you that seeing them and listening to their racket was not a comforting situation and even my Pakistani team mates were squirming in their seats.

As soon as the flight took off, these funny characters started coming to their own. One of them was stopping my friend SS from reclining his seat, just because that would be an impediment to his own outstretched legs; and the best part was that he was acting so while having his own seat comfortably reclined. SS had to finally seek help from airline staff. Another one was in an animated conversation with my friend PC, on how to use the remote of the entertainment system provided with each seat; for once PC was ruing the fact that SQ provided a TV with every seat, even in economy class. These guys were obviously traveling for the first time. Some of them were literally perched on their seats, squatting on them with the blankets covering their whole body and face, leaving just their beady eyes to be seen. Quite frightening, I must say. "I hope they don't have a plan to hijack the plane", one of my Pakistani friend murmured. Not a funny comment, given the situation, and hence none of us enjoyed the humor that was intended.

A foul smell was soon overwhelming one and all; I leave you to guess the source. The airlines staff realized that fact and were seen sprinkling perfume on the floor. They were also flushing and spraying the toilets every 15 minutes. Thank you SQ, you did a good job of making this flight that much easier for us, else it would have been nothing less that asphyxia.

The gentleman sitting next to me was traveling to Sydney via Singapore. He was very quiet and seemed to have fallen asleep very soon. Around half way through the flight he seemed to get restless. He soon grabbed my hands; I could see that he was trying to say something but was not able to do so. I immediately notified the staff who came to his help. I left my seat and stood aside as he received close attention from the airline stewardess. They gave him some pills and after 30mins of mild panic, he slowly slipped back into sleep. I gave up my seat and let him stretch out a bit. I was not sure what caused his discomfort. When I checked with the staff, they informed me that he was feeling dizzy. A few hours later, as the flight was nearing its end, I came back to my seat and saw him up and sporting a smile. He thanked my generosity for letting him have that extra space to stretch. I took my seat again and he then introduced himself.

He was a textile exporter who had business interests in Delhi and Lahore and was settled in Sydney, where he ran his wholesale outlet. He was now returning after visiting his parents who were in Lahore. As a parting ritual he had lifted his mom off her feet; a sign of love and affection. In doing so he had sprained his back very badly. That very sprain had now come back in spasms and for some reason had made him dizzy. By the time we finished our conversation he had already given me his address in Lahore and Sydney and had invited me over to his place. So Tariq is another friend from Lahore, who I have now, besides AK.

I looked out of the window and saw the familiar sight of tall residential apartments in the horizon, the beautifully architected skyscrapers looming up to kiss the skies and the water down below, strewn with ships and boats. We were approaching Singapore; the PA system confirmed the same and asked the crew to prepare for landing.

As I walked out of the aircraft, I had so many thoughts buzzing in my mind; I had to do something with them. I decided to put them up on my blog and share with you all, my dearest iLand friends. 

THE END

PS:
I hope I did a reasonable job of taking you through this short travel experience of mine. Thank you for bearing the long-winded writing, which in part was intentional and in part was habit.

Guess what! Next month I am traveling to Geneva. I hope I will have my mind buzzing the same way when I finish that trip.