Gooble-de-gook

You walk into this room. The windows are wide open. The door creaks as it sways back and forth. It’s a summer noon and it’s hot. You wish to ease those nerves. That can only mean one thing - Coldplay. Having enqueued five of your favourite tracks, you put on those headphones. By now the door is shut and the curtains are drawn. Pleasant is always a few minutes away from a summer noon, if you know how to get it.

4 and a half minutes later, it’s Track 2. The first song has driven the anesthetic a little too far. When The Scientist is ‘go’, you are floating. Those aching calf muscles don’t seem to be around anymore. And it starts…

You see a little girl. She’s running in the open. It’s a vast field. And she is running. Draped in a brown skirt and checked uppers, she wears a cap to keep her hair in place. The wind is getting the better of her skirt though. She is 12, you might want to think. Why is she running? Where is she running to?

A hundred meters behind her, at a distance you can see two boys running towards the girl, who, by now you figure out, is running away from the boys. The three of them are happy to be running in the pursuit of whatever it might be. The boys are wearing shorts, btw. And one of them is blonde. The other has a cap. A painter’s cap, you might say (not all painters like to wear them though.) They look 15 years apiece. And they are running, not real hard, but just enough to keep the girl at a flowing river’s width from them. She is finding this to be fun!

There’s a pond there and a towering windmill that stands by it. As she nears the pond, she looks to run harder. She goes inside. The windmill. The boys follow her.

… Could not speak as loud as my heart (faintly, at a distance).

She comes out, as you turn around in your bed. Remember, you are standing in the field. But only this time, she holds a round bottomed bottle in her hand. It has a straight neck at the top. And the cap is fastened tight. Or so you assume. Let’s see. There is scotch in the bottle, you might want to think. And she runs faster than her legs can carry her. And then you see. The girl is being chased by two rather grown up men. They must be 40 apiece. Who are these men? And what would they want from a little girl with a bottle in her hand. And then it strikes you. Where did the two boys go? You cross the pond and go inside the windmill. It’s dark, except for the cone of sunlight that a small window at the top is permitting. You search around the cold place for the two boys. No, they aren’t there. You come out. The field is empty. There is no sign of the girl; or of the boys; or of the men. Something doesn’t seem right of the whole picture. You stop and wonder – “Did the boys become the men?” And before that question can be answered…

It’s Track 3 - Clocks.

[Question: Make sense of this situation]

Gopi Manjuri with doublextra cheese

Here’s a dumb question to start with:

If a man can dress Indian, eat Indian (strictly), has Indian ancestors and an Indian wife, received his primary.edu in India and drives a Maruti on the streets of Bengaluru, he should speak English with an Indian accent.

The above statement is:

1. True

2. False

3. The data provided is insufficient.

The Texas Tragedy

Electronics major Texas Instruments has its headquarters in Dallas, Texas. They have a setup at Bangalore too. A big percentage of the employees working at TI, Bangalore have been to Dallas at some point of time during their career at TI.

Result: They speak with an American accent.

A case: Varadharajan, who’s joined TI last month finds it difficult to follow what his team leader Gopal Swamy Iyer says, because of the latter’s American accent.

A brief history: Gopal Swamy Iyer, on finishing his PUC at Revannasiddhiya Pre-University College went on to do his BE in ECE from the RV College of Engineering on Mysore Road, Bengaluru. After a brief stint with an IT firm, he went to the University of Michigan to pursue a Master of Science in pure electronics. After 3 years at TI, Dallas, Gopal Swamy Iyer was sent back to his native land of India.

//Gopal Iyer has done away with the dispenser in the toilet at his house on KR Road. One can find a roll of tissue instead.

Pseudonyms and Uncles from Scotland

So where does one need to go to get an American accent?

The naive would think the obvious, that Texan accents are picked up in Texas, or a Canadian accent in Toronto or Quebec. But as we are propelled into the Internet age, one can pick up a mid-western American accent sitting in Boreville, Mumbai. Yes, the world is shrinking!

Which brings us to next question- How long does it take to pick up one?

Let’s probe a little further to dig out the answer for this one. A friend’s Uncle lives in Scotland, a land where its natives are known for their distinctive English accent. He migrated to Scotland from India in the early 1970’s when the Beatles were getting big. 35 years hence, every time his family comes on their annual vacation to India, it is said that this man speaks just like any other Indian.

Rajiv (name changed) is an Investment Banker. He works with the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank. Last summer he was sent to Singapore for 4 months on an assignment. Sources close to him say that he came back with an American accent (Wtf?)

Verdict: In the 21^st century, one can talk like an American within a few days without as much as having to make trip to the airport.

The New Species

There is no substantial evidence for the need to put on an accent. While victims in the glass and steel buildings might claim that their interaction with global customers requires them to speak like a New Yorker, there is only one thing that can be said- show me a man who cannot follow the Indian accent but can follow the American one, and I’ll free him from paying taxes for the rest of his life.

If the problem can be spelt out clean, so should the solution to tackle it. This is not to help you put a new accent or rid you from the existing one, but more to help you identify yourself and act as personal discretion may permit:

1. The Localised specie: You are the kind that refuses to shed your regional accent. You go to Canberra and speak English like a Keralite. The plus point would be that it would popularise a local accent in the world market. Trouble: People are laughing behind your ass. There is high risk involved here, but not fatal. Egzamble: Lolla Kutty.

2. The Globalised specie You go around the world speaking English like an Indian. But in doing so, pay attention that it is can be understood by the listener. Take care to weed out the mother-tongue accent. Example: LN Mittal.

3. The Super-Globalised specie: Where ever you go, you speak with the accent prevailing in that area. Or in other words, when in Rome, be a Roman. This is extremely challenging, but is possible to achieve. Example: A friend’s 3^rd cousin.

4. The Run down specie: No matter where life takes you, always speak like a Yank. Example: Gopal Swamy Iyer.

If you happen to figure out more forms of species that can co-exist with the above, feel free to mail it to me. I’d be more than glad to append the existing list.

Adios.

P.S: ‘Gopi Manjuri’ is Tamil-English for the Indo-Chinese dish Gobi Manchurian.

Helicopters and Computer-guys Losing it

They might be a $ 4 billion enterprise, but somehow the line doesn’t sell; let alone capture the idea of ‘Technology that touches lives’. Indian companies (barring a handful) have been marked out for their lack of branding; or in simpler words for failing to communicate as to who/what they are or are into. The recent advertisement of HCL shows a ‘computer guy’ dressed in smart casuals (though he does look gay in a tight pink shirt) and loaded with a notebook hiking a ride from an investment banker who happens to be driving in the middle of a desert. To start off, once inside the car, the computer guy appears too cool to move. He takes off his cap, flips open the notebook, and informs the banker in a pseudo-concerned tone - “The stock market just crashed.” The banker is distraught on hearing this. Smugly the HCL guy goes on to brief the IB about how the ATM at the fueling station runs on ‘our technology’. Some distance later, the HCL guy gets off the car and heads towards a helicopter waiting to take him “abroad for a life sciences project”.

By the end of the ad, one is left bewildered and angry with the computer guy and with a sense of pity for the investment banker (who has just hosted a robbery of his self_image).

The HCL guy’s I_am_somehow_superior_to_you attitude makes you want to throw slush at him*; and keep the IB for a pet. And then the line ‘touching lives’ makes you want to throw up.

And as for the $ 4 billion catch-line, there is trouble. A lot many minds seem to think of a billion as being just a little more than a million. With all due respect, a million is not much of a test these days. The enormity that these guys are trying to get us to recognize is not coming through with those very words.

Better luck next time.

*see the bigger picture here.

The Red Rainbow

They’ve launched a ‘let’s get it done’ campaign now. And boy it has worked! From the word ‘go’ the music in the back-ground captures you. The steady and rhythmic beat is well woven into the text and images that flash. With simple words and simpler images (and heart touching, like the little school boy one), the message is sent across loud and clear; that to turn your dreams into realities, you need a partner. And that partner is Citibank.

The ad is convincing enough (at least for me) to bank on them. Kudos, Citi!

The Ceremonial Hi

Hi!
I guess blogging is more than just fun...

A big thanks to Thomas Friedman... ' The world is Flat' for talking(rather writing) about blogs in the book...

Thanks to Anoop for keeping at the guitar(with all the cacophony that my ears can permit) while I occupy the Black Chair at his desktop.

And a bigger thanks to the coffee at Halli Mane's, Bhima's, Anoop's Mom's and my Grandma's for the 'stimulation of curiosity' ... lol!

Read on..