MiDDAY shock in middle of the day

I was just driving to office, on 4 Dec 2011, when the call came. It was past 4 pm and there were only two things on my mind; a political story on the design of B Sriramulu, who had just won the Bellary bypoll, and happiness to work for a newspaper such as MiDDAY. There was no hint on its funeral preparation.

Irony is that I was thinking how fortunate I was to be a part of MiDDAY because it looked more stable than the papers recently launched editions in Bangalore and struggling for existence and the journalistic freedom I was enjoying was not to be seen anywhere in the leading newspapers. Just the previous day, the city editor Aditya Anand had called me to his chamber to tell that he had met the group editor Sachin Kalbag and the owner Mahendra Gupta, and they had told him MiDDAY Bangalore was on top of their priority and it would be stronger by next April.

The caller, Anand, our designer in MiDDAY, said he was hearing some corridor talks about shutting down of Bangalore operations and the next day edition was the last one. In fact, I had missed the call because I was busy on the mobile phone negotiating car loan with a bank executive, who had found MiDDAY as A1 Company on his priority list and was enthusiastic to lend. On seeing his name in the missed calls list, I called Anand casually and he gave me the death message with half confirmation.

Feeling an ice mountain on the chest, I called Susheelan, our admin head, who confirmed the news.  Aditya said the announcement was just made and he was not sure about the fate of the editorial staff although Sachin was in talks with the management about a possible re-absorption.

So, where was the space for the story of instability of the government, when my own position was unstable? A moment before I was the Brahma foreseeing the death of D V Sadananda Gowda government coming in the form of Bellary Yama Sriramulu. A moment after I was a petty creature praying for survival ( yet, I filed the story as the last one in MiDDAY Bangalore).

With a blank on the mind, I turned the direction to The Times of India after asking a bosom friend to come down. She was in tears. How many times she could see me jobless and help to find a new job. It is coming to me in cycles with an average interval of two years; this time for none of my fault, previous cases were nothing to do with professional reasons though. I had offers in other news papers, but had let them go. I had joined Bangalore Mirror, but came back within hours of signing the joining report after the then group editor Abhijit requested.

When I reached the office at 5.30, it seemed a burial ground with the staffers wearing mourning look. An official mail from the CEO said he was happy to move on to strengthen MiDDAY Mumbai after closing operations at Bangalore and Delhi. He had cheered us at the end.

It was funnier, the day after when the publisher descended to address us. When everyone was leering at him in hope that he would announce the re-absorption plans, the publisher dropped hints at ditching us with a month’s salary. And he was ready with the draft of our resignation letters. The CEO had written them and we just needed to sign.

The meeting scheduled for 10.30 was called at 4.30 and no one was in a mood to have breakfast or lunch. When the video conferencing was on, the HR officials connected from Mumbai just delivered a cold funeral speech that had nothing for us. And the HR head said they had to wait till 4.30 because they were deliberating on the ways to protect our interest and finally figured out paying a month’s salary and writing resignation letters for us. There was no question of re-absorbing the existing staff that was only ten in number.

It was the scenario that we witnessed in the morning and why they took so long to arrive at the same conclusion? This absurdity explains the decline of a strong brand such as MiDDAY, I thought. A mediocre leadership would be potential enough to sink a ship as large as Titanic, but it would not be able to float a blade of grass.

A girl, who was yet to complete a month with MiDDAY, was not able to make the HR understand her problem. She had managed to find a job for her and the new employer was asking for three months’ salary slip. She could not say her company shut shop even before she could get the first month’s salary because on records she had resigned and was relieved from the company. She wept, but there were no takers. The HR head stuck to his framed language and showed his readiness to repeat it for any number of times.    

I was not in a position to seek solace from my friends outside because they were long ago rendered jobless by their employer. They are my TV channel friends and we were trying to figure out job opportunities for them and it was precarious that all of a sudden I stood jobless before them. And it was their turn to console me. It was when my eyes got moisture after one of them told me I would get a job and he was with me to share the agony. At the moment he had forgotten his own agony and tried to cheer me up. He is one of the finest sports journalists on TV. His honesty and passion for journalism are unblemished. Yet, he was thrown out of the job and there is no placement for him even after six months.

Why this Kolavery in the media? Why we are so insensitive and brutally unprofessional?

But, the response I got from the fraternity was appreciable. Many sympathised with me, while some of them helped in fixing appointments with editors. The first confirmation call came from The Times of India Hyderabad. Although my love is with Bangalore, I have no option left with but to pack up for Hyderabad.

Missing Bangalore in Bangalore

I think I can’t write on Bangalore, the city where I am born and brought up. A biased view, I am afraid, would come in the way and the picture would not be in its true colors. I think I know the metropolis fairly well, but the blind love would not allow me criticizing it. I may end up eulogizing the notionally pleasant weather and large large-hearted people.

I can certainly write on Hyderabad, the city that feeds me. No fear of becoming biased with my heart being somewhere else- and I am sure the writing would be objectively critical. But, the problem is I am blind to the city in the first place as I am yet to discover it. The hot weather and indifferent vehicle driving are just peripheral experience that is not an adequate stuff to write about a city like Hyderabad.

So, I am caught in between blind love and blind vision. My relationship with Bangalore is a natural love affair, while it is an arranged marriage between me and Hyderabad. Love gives you high and in the kick you can’t sense its grotesqueness. On the other hand an arranged marriage prompts you to be apprehensive about your yet-to-be- discovered partner and you are ever ready to put the person under scanner.

When I landed in Hyderabad twelve years ago for a brief period of employment, for the first time, I did not find it strange as the sounds of the city had a streak of acquaintance. Bangalore had already introduced me to Reddys and Naidus, who were not any different in Hyderabad. The visual was not strange either because the Telugu film posters were more ubiquitous on Bangalore walls than those in Hyderabad. While our own Soundarya had set the silver screen ablaze, a gyrating Megastar was no way alien. In fact, the cacophony with all the known elements had made me feel at home.

A visit to Chennai was even more unsurprising. It was just like slipping from my neighbourhood Chamrajpet, where the atmosphere is a mix of Kannada, Tamil, and Urdu, to the neigbouring Srirampura, where Tamil is dominant. I am deliberately not mentioning cantonment area in this regard. Bangalore Cantonment is certainly a Tamil area, but it has a European blend in its culture as it was in the Madras province during British rule. I didn’t find this part of Bangalore in Chennai. It was more like being in Srirampura, when I roamed around Paris, heart of Chennai city, with the Thumbis and Machhas around. When you go to Srirampura in Bangalore, a Macchi -- it is a distortion of Machha the saala or brother-in-law -- will greet you. And if the same thing happens to you at Chennai, then there is need for a Bangaloerian to feel out of place. Moreover, our stylish bus conductor is the style king there, and our Melukote Cheluvi is the Selvi and Puratchi Talaivi there.

When I was in Delhi, I didn’t miss Bangalore at all. Mysore was the first city in pre-independent India to take up the cause of Hindi propagation and Hindi Prachara Sabha is still an icon of the heritage city. In Bangalore, a clone of Mysore, Hindi is as natural as the breathing air. Bhachhans and Khans are loved here not just because Sholay was shot at the rocky Ramnagar or Coolie and Coolie No.1 were filmed in Bangalore, but because the Bollywood is in the heart of a Kannadiga because the Rashtrabasha is in his blood as a manifestation of his Desh Bhakthi. And Shivaji Nagar’s Urdu makes you feel gallis of Dilli your own.

So, wherever you go you will find Bangalore. But, can you find Bangalore in Bangalore? I had not encountered this question until I came to the city for a holiday after spending a few months in Hyderabad. On my entry to the city, a piece of Hyderabad welcomed me; the same Telugu film posters and loud dancy music. It was early in the morning and a paper vender was sorting out the bundles of morning newspapers on pavement, and the biggest bundle was that of Sakshi, the Jagan-owned Telugu daily. Second in size was of its archrival Eenadu. Where is the question of missing Hyderabad in Bangalore?

Even Chennai was very much alive in the city. The coffee shop owner gave an impression that he just can’t follow a word that is not Tamil; even steamy idly and sambar was just spreading nothing but Chennai flavor.

An auto rickshaw driver, a security at the gate of the apartment, and a vender of pani poori were all helpful in reminding me of Delhi.

But, where is Bangalore? It would be exaggeration if I say I did not hear a word of Kannada in Bangalore; it was there in the intimate circles of friends and families. I was happy to find a piece of Bangalore under the rubble of many pieces of Bangalore.

Whenever I speak to my Bangalore friends over phone in Kannada, my Hyderabad friends ask whether it wasTamil. In Bangalore, when a person speaks Telugu, or Tamil, or Hindi, I have seen no Kanndiga ever asking which language it was. I think that is the essence of Bangalore.

A mid-summer night's dream

On that sizzling summer night, a grope of slight breeze through window was soothing. He turned as he felt the wetness of the pillow. Sweat dripping down the neck had him drenched and even the bed was wet and cool. The setting had a strange contrast in it; coolness generated and enhanced by the heat. The air wouldn’t have such a cooling effect if the night had not been so sultry. He began enjoying the fleeting moment. He knew the cramped room will again be stuffy with the wind going away, and it occurred to him the shortness of life; a night, no matter how dark and hot, is a matter of a few hours. A day, no matter how bright, is a matter of a few hours. A fresh morning is only a span of two hours between five and seven; a romantic evening is just a stint of two hours between five and seven.

Even when life is fleeting, the ruthless night was dragging. A few hot hours of darkness seemed endless; no end of the tunnel in the vicinity. It occurred to him that life is short when it is enjoyable and it is long and heavy when it is unbearable. One who is suffering from headache wants his pain end the moment he pops a pill. But, it takes time for the pill going into the system and the span of the time is the length of the real life.

He needed a pill to rid the plaguing night. A memory of the beloved should have been the panacea. Alas! Her insensitiveness to his pain could only make the memory painful and paradoxically amnesia was the remedy. He struggled to forget the good moments he enjoyed with her because the memory was making him sleepless and complete loss of memory was the medicine for insomnia.

How cruel life is and how ostensible the mind is; if you try to forget something, it would only amount to an effort to recall it. The intent to forget makes the memory deeper. His razor sharp memory was a bane at the relentless night. The pounding reminiscence had life imploding on him and he was buried under the heaviness. There was no whimper of air as he gasped. He wanted to breathe easy, breath a fresh cool air. We wanted to come out of the room getting exposed to chillness of the dark night, heaving a deep sigh. But, how could he do that with his limbs not responding? The numbness developed in him just gave him the taste of death. He couldn’t even cry for help. He gave up even before giving it a try.

He tried to recall his favourite God; who is he? Earnestly, he had once felt love in the past and had likened love to God because the comfort it had given him was nothing short of divine happiness. But, where has it gone now? Why has it deserted him when he needed it the most? Why he is suddenly dumped to be lonely?

Love is with you when you love; it deserts you when you forget it. At the instance of its occurrence to him, the room lighted up as dawn broke. A slight breeze again blew through the window; his hand touched mobile phone, he dreamily searched the inbox; an old message dazzled; “You are a fool, because you have the habit of forgetting me.”

A deep sleep overwhelmed, he closed eyes with a smile that he could not resist.

Why Anna is not Gandhi?

The modern-time Gandhi is not a Gandhi. Gandhi, a fan of Jesus Christ, asked us to turn the other cheek, if we are slapped. Anna Hazare, an apostle of Gandhi, enquired whether it was just one, when he heard a man giving a tight slap to Sharad Pawar.

The disappointment at the ‘just one slap’ that he didn’t even try to conceal testifies folksy innocence so as exposing his non-Gandhian facet. It could even be a reflection on his hearty sense of humour. But it came out at wrong time. People want to see Gandhi in Anna. And, alas, he is not to be.

Not that his spontaneous response to the paraphrased slap gate was in supportive of violence, for the incident, in the first place, was so trivial that nobody including Pawar has taken it seriously. Public nuisance, committed by a suspected insane, cant be termed as violence. It was not a case for Anna’s sermon on the goodness of non-violence. But he preached the one after his initial lighter-vain reaction attracted severe criticism. And that, in fact, made him non-Gandhi. Gandhi did never take a U-turn on his stand, no matter how unpopular it was, to match with the popular sentiment or to avert criticism. On realisation of his stand not bought by anyone, he would dare to ‘walk alone, walk alone,’

Anna, in the first place, would have not joked on the news of somebody slapped somebody, if he were to be Gandhi. Gandhi’s endearing traits include a heartfelt laughter, but it was never at the expense of a slapped one. A joke cracked by him on such incidents, regardless of its power of punch, would have been uncivilized. As he pioneered civil disobedience, Gandhi was a champion of civilised culture.

The way Anna is gripping on Ralegon Siddi, his native village and open laboratory for his Gandhian experiments, has made him seen as a dictator. Assuming a tinge of dictatorship is required for a leadership to bring in order Anna is acceptible and even Gandhi wanted to be a dictator. “Sometimes I feel the requirement of dictatorship to bring in good. If you make me dictator for a day the only thing I would like to do uproot the toddy palms in the country. I will se to it not a single tree standing,” said Gandhi. His dictatorship was aimed at prohibition of drinking alcohol and it would have not hurt anyone. Anna too is earnest in bringing in prohibition, but flogging of drunkards is not acceptable. Many of the objectives of Talibanis might possibly be noble, but their method of implementation has made them demons. How can we, rejecting Taliban, accept Anna’s intolerant attitude of flogging the sinners?

“Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding,” said Gandhi. Anna’s anger against corruption is righteous and it is respected. But, when it was vented out the form of an unreasonable verbal onslaught on Prime Minister Manmohan Singh it was clear that Anna had no correct understanding because he was in the firm grip of the two enemies.

Anna used the most effective weapon, given by Gandhi, to goad the government to the Jan Lokpal bill: fasting. But the methods adopted made people calling it blackmail. And Anna didn’t feel shy to say he would continue to blackmail, if his methods are called blackmail.
Tusha Gandhi’s observation on Anna can some-up and explain why he is not Gandhi: “Bapu’s method of fasting was completely different than that of Anna. Bapu would have not threatened anyone the way Anna has. During Bapu’s time, fasting was never used against an opponent. Rather, it was used to lead a friend to the right path.”

The court magic: foes are friends

This year, the judiciary showed its effectiveness in many ways. It looked so simple when the powerful paraded into jail as the judiciary turned the impossible into cheaply possible. It was magical.

While you can adjudge the metaphorical judiciary the man of the year award for having put a record number of corrupt behind bars, at national level in general, it deserves a state level bonhomie prize in Karnataka. It has achieved an impossible feat by bringing arch enemies close to be thick friends.

Just a year ago, the possibility of the JD(S) of H D Deve Gowda joining hands with Reddy brothers was unthinkable. The Reddys moving closer to Congress was unimaginable and Yeddyurappa befriending with Kumarswamy was just impossible. The judiciary has made all it possible. It played a leveler bringing them to book. And the birds of same feather flocked together.

The Reddys who had slapped a bribery case on him are now banking on Kumaraswamy for their man’s victory in Bellary. They had even filed a murder case against him, while he and his father retaliated with the charges of illegal mining. Now the chumminess is prevailing and Kumaraswamy has put his man to work for their man Sriramulu. The senior Gowda is generous enough not to put a candidate against him.

Yeddyurappa, after serving twenty-three-days of jail term thanks to the cases instigated by Gowda & Sons, has now pledged not to talk ill about the first family of the Karnataka politics. He has long forgotten that the former prime minister had once called him a bastard. The hatchets are buried. In response of the new found affability, the patriarch has shown his readiness to build a new political platform for the disgraced BJP man just in case he leaves the party.

The Congress that went on its foot all the way from Bangalore to Bellary to show the world the demons called the Reddys is now keen on supervising the comforts given to G Janardana Reddy at the Chanchala Guda jail. The mining lord is finding the VIP cell better than his Bellary palace to pull strings.

How did it happen?

Take Yeddyurappa’s case. After he refused to bend below the floor, Deve Gowda showed him the taste of his politics. His two men mounted fifteen cases on Yeddyurappa, while the governor played the supporting character sanctioning his prosecution. Deve Gowda’s direction turned superlative with a skillful script writing of Ananthkumar and able production management of L K Avani. Santhosh Hegde was just a light boy, but his contribution is worth mention.

After all Yeddyurappa is a Deve Gowda of BJP. He gave back with the same coin and as a result Gowda’s two sons and a daughter-in-law stood in the dock. The magic started working. Kumaraswamy first got anticipatory bail followed by Yeddyurappa getting an interim stay on legal proceedings against him. The cases against Kumarswamy and his wife Anitha were quashed followed by Yeddyurappa getting bail and anticipatory bail. Eldest son of the Gowda clan Balakrishne Gowda too got stay on his DA case. And at the end, foes are the best chums.

After the god mother dumped them, Deve Gowda was better god father for the Reddys. While Janardana Reddy moved close to Congress through CBI, Sriramulu struck a chord with Kumaraswamy. The realization was that all were in the glass cage of their own and throwing stone would bring mutual destruction. Better bet was to unit together to destruct the world.

With such a remarkable to feat to its credit, the court is shy of a step to complete accomplishment. The judiciary is still not able to goad Gowda going for a jadduki jappi with road builder Ashok Kheny. The long drawn battle between the two Goliaths is continuing taking its toll on legions of poor Davids called farmers, who are supposed to have lost their land for the express highway. The court can’t put an end it because the first Goliath Kheny is an expert in winning court cases- he has won 543 cases so far- and he is not scared of legal battle. The second Goliath Gowda is a diehard politician who sees a political opportunity even in the death of a farmer. Guess who can save us.

Mallya and Rajeev Chandrashekar: what's the similarity?

Corporate debt restructure (CDR) can be a fraud if a lender shows up his vulnerability as a reason for his failure to recover debt from a rich borrower. It’s the fraud especially when the public money is involved. It’s cheating when the government ruthless on common taxpayers spells out its intention to bail out a self-indulgent business house.

The lenders- a 13-bank consortium- could not figure out the way to get back money from the king of good time, after many rounds of deliberations and they have requested him to come out with a ‘credible’ plan. What a credible plan can the borrower propose other than finding a safe escape rout for himself?

And the debt burden they are trying to soften is not a small amount. It’s hovering around Rs.7057.87-crore that is almost equal to the budget size of the Bangalore city municipality. And whose money is it, after all?

Banks are not the only ones who are at Vijay Mallya’s mercy. His Kingfisher Airlines has defaulted payments wherever it found it possible. Oil companies, airports, and leasing companies are praying for Mallya’s prosperity so that they can fill their emptying coffers.

But, there is no apparent link between Mallya’s prosperity and his debt repayment. As the trend goes, with a rich borrower getting richer his defaulting rates go high and the lenders rally behind him with all possible CDR formulae. And the government finds itself in a fix and starts looking for ways and means to bail him out, because it would be a question of survival for the public companies for which the rich is owed to pay or repay.

So, better the oil companies and the airports bet on the pressurised government for the bail out package rather than indulging in a pointless prayer to the listless god. Let the economy go to dogs. If the bail out widens the fiscal deficit gap, then there is the tax tool to peg it up. Rest assure when the expert economist on the helm.

And then, Mallya is a Rajyasabha member. It would not be difficult for him to pull strings from the very corridor of power. He knows how importnat the power is, especially after Jitin Prasada spoilt his design to get a waiver of Rs. 600 crore from HPCL, last year. And you should have seen how cleverly he handled politicians in Karnataka to ensure his entry to the upper house. It seemed, then, the loss of Kingfisher Airlines was the gain of the legislators who supported his candidature. Fortunes of each JD(S) MLA went up by a Fortuner and a purse of cash. And the media reports on the political corruption were effectively stalled thanks to his efficient political secretary who is also his media advisor. An ex-journalist, she knows how to handle the hacks.

The success formula in this sort of riddle seems to be one, and it is amazing to note a similarity in the methods of Mallya to that of his fellow Rajyasabha member elected from Karnataka. Rajeev Chandrasheakr is now a media baron in the state claiming his iconic right over Namma Bengaluru got entry to the Rajyasabha through the same JD(S) rout as Mallya did and before that he had got a CDR settlement with the banks and shored his company up from the debt burden of Rs.2000 crore.

It’s a old story that Rajeev Chandrashekar and his father-in-law TPG Nambiyar stage managed a quarrel between them that ended in an out-of-court settlement. Nambiayar had complained that his son-in-law had fraudulently diverted funds from BPL Ltd to subsidiary companies floated subsequently after the flagship company availed bank loans to the tune of Rs. 2000 crore. He managed to get a CDR scheme, in 2005, which converted the debt burden to mere Rs.80 crore to be repaid in equated monthly installments.

But, till now not an installment is paid and the banks are not complaining. We know how the MP did this. But, we won’t write it because we are scared he will pull us to the court. Moreover, he is in the forefront of the anti-corruption crusade, these days.

The TCS Story...and beyond- a book review

When a person sets out to tell the story of an organization he headed and was part of it for more than four decades, unavoidably it becomes his life story. So, ‘TCS Story …and beyond’ is also the story of S Ramadorai told by himself.

And he doesn’t deny it. “This book is autobiographical because my own life and that of
TCS have been inextricably linked,” says Ramadorai.

What strikes you, while reading the book, is that there is an enthralling story teller in the garb of a star CEO and the trait helped Ramadorai building a loyal core team around him, while for the work force, at large, he was a charmer. And he says attrition was never a problem for the TCS when the rivals were finding talent retention an imperative challenge.

This of skill of story telling is evident in the book by an unlikely author, as his self-description goes, and makes for an absorbing reading, which otherwise would have been a retired business executive’s self-congratulatory autobiography. While a lucid and intimate style of writing takes you through a great journey of a conglomerate pioneering such a significant domain as IT that changed the face of new India, it will have you so engrossed that you will forget wondering there was a flipside of the success story. If there was any, in reality, the book gives no hint. Ramadoaria suffers from a lifetime disappointment that he could not convince his management to take up hardware business though.

While it is autobiographical, the book is an authentic document of the contemporary history as it outlines shaping up of IT industry and modern Indian economy that steered the change in governance and policy making as a result of which the country ushered in era liberalisation.

Early steps taken by a fledgling TCS, in the late 1970s, were historical as they seeded the IT industry. And we find a visionary in Ramadorai, who was at the forefront to find the way. The first real ‘outsourcing’ contract the TCS signed for Burroughs was a pretty small with an amount of $ 24,000 and involved converting a hospital accounting package called the Hospital Information System. Following this, the company began to establish itself with IBM and work onsite. Recounting those moments, Ramdorai writes, “Even so, winning just one client was a big thing. It was very tough, but somewhere deep down I believed that we were not building a mere business but a new industry for India, and that was a dream worth working towards.”

Further, a management meeting at IISc, in Bangalore, that gave a vision to the company to become ‘Top 10 by 2010’, the way it opened to Y2K challenge and tackled it to spearhead Indian industry through the IT boom, and going public through IPO are the footprints of the modern history and the book traces them in an endearing fashion.

Computerization of National Stock Exchange (NSE) carried out by the TCS gave rise to dematerialization that revolutionized investment market and turned the stock trading a household affair. And the way the Tatas fought against the nightmarish license raj and taking part in the strife that ultimately uprooted it is an absorbing episode of a thrilling saga.

The narration of the book unwittingly adopts the language spoken by the IT world and it is interesting to note how the country got to speak in a new idiom with the evolution of the new domain.

Although it is an insider account of an industry leader that provides a deep insight into the Indian IT industry you will be disappointed if you are expecting to get the details of the strategy that made the TCS the market leader as a wily CEO does not spill beans on that count. And he is so conspicuously silent on the contemporaries- Infosys, Wipro and others.

Towards the end of the book Ramadorai has put in his thoughts on education in India and how vocational training has to be brought in and strengthened as that would open up more avenues of employment for the students passing out of the numerous schools and colleges. It would give a different means to livelihood to the millions who today strive to find a job and then try to find satisfaction with whatever job comes their way rather than being able to select a job as per their abilities and likes.


Although he says he is “unlikely candidate for writing a book”, Ramadorai finds writing consuming and he is happy with his “first-time writer” role. As there is a next-time for any first-time, we can expect lot more from his pen. And he is welcome because the new generation is ready for the benefit.