Hail to the lordly buffalo!

As children, we studied under a constant threat. “If you do not study and get good marks, I will purchase a pair of buffaloes for you! You can take them out to graze!” Parents used this standard tagline to whip their child to show some urgency. As we look back, this taunt was incorrect for several reasons. For one, we grew up in a city. There were no grazing fields. At least, parents could have upgraded their pet example. Urban children need urban examples to relate to. This one was a non-starter.

Secondly, as adults now, we wonder if we could have chosen the alternative buffalo profession. That way, we could have been masters and exercised an element of power and control, at least on the buffalo. Now, it is too late. We realize that the IT job is a thankless job. It is a time-guzzler and from morning to night, you are at someone else’s bidding. In the process of avoiding a buffalo, we have in fact become someone else’s buffalo, who has taken over our life completely!

Thirdly, the example is a grave injustice to buffaloes. It portrays them in poor light, when in fact, they run the country’s economy. From milk production to pulling carts in the rural areas, you cannot beat the buffalo’s contribution. And when it comes to nail-biting finishes, who can beat the “Kambala” race where buffaloes and owners vie with each other for the coveted medal?

Still, from time to time, when you do not react to a situation, someone gives you a piece of mind, saying, “How can you be so thick skinned like a buffalo?” The comment is totally unfair. On one hand, we glorify people who are unflappable and cool in the most challenging circumstances. We honor them with titles like “Captain Cool” and what not. But when we do the same and remain equanimous, the buffalo is brought into comparison, that too, in negative light.

A buffalo standing on the middle of the main road in our teeming metropolis is a sight for sore eyes! Cars may honk, buses may brush past them, but they stay put. The buffalo looks at the vehicle owner in the eye. It is a cold and defiant stare. It does not give an inch, till the vehicle owner, sheepishly acknowledges defeat, and goes around it.

Sometimes, we wish our Test Cricketers can take a leaf from the buffalo’s book! In the face of the most hostile fast bowling, we want them to be like the lordly buffalo. They must hold their ground, dig in the heels, and stay put. Then, we can truly acknowledge them as world beaters. It would be appropriate if they can have their net practice sessions with a buffalo tied to the post. It will serve as a fitting reminder and inspire them to greater heights in the art of batsmanship.

Hail to the lordly buffalo!

Watching from the skies

Peering out of the window and enjoying the passing scenery, is typically associated with a train-ride. However, a different scenery presents itself when you look out of an airplane.

Some of the most arresting visuals are undoubtedly associated with the takeoff and the landing. As the plane takes off, you see the entire city in a single sweep.  Buildings and villas, highways and bridges are like school projects- cardboard models arranged on a thermocol base! And when it is time for landing, the metropolis slowly comes into view- initially blurry, and then in greater detail, till the plane finally touches the runway.

While the above visuals are dramatic, most travelers completely switch off, once the plane is in mid-air. Either they are fast asleep or don their earphones to enjoy the in-flight entertainment. In the process, they lose out on some of the most eye-catching landscapes, that changes like a kaleidoscope!

The plane has reached the cruising altitude of 30,000 feet. The seat-belt signs are off. You look out of the window. The sky is colored a bright turquoise blue. As you look down, you observe a unique cloudscape. Lit by the afternoon sun, the clouds are like fluffy cotton-balls. They are packed, one against the other, and extend like a carpet, stretched across the sky. Sometimes, they resemble waves, over an ocean of milky-white cotton-wads! Or they shine like glassy ice, as though you are flying over a glacier.

Very soon, the topography changes. It is now completely cloudless. You get a bird’s eye view of the earth filled with lakes and rivers, villages and hamlets. Ribbon-like roads emerge from the hamlets and disappear into the distant haze. A lonesome car crawls like a miniscule ant! At times, stray, patchy clouds cast their shadows upon the sun-drenched earth. It is an interesting pastime- to map the cloud’s shape to the contours of the shadow spread over the verdant vales and hills.

You notice the coastline- the gentle curves of the land, hemmed in by the ocean. As you fly over the ocean, it is a canvas of blue. The eyes pick the dot of a ship- down in the water. Imagination is stirred. You wonder, “Where did the ship come from? Where is it headed?”

As sunset nears, the bright blue of the sky turns a shimmering-gold. And soon, the gold melts into violet and finally to deep black. The airplane darts across the night sky. The flashing lights from the plane’s wings, hold your attention. The half-moon stares at you curiously. The sky is pocked with a riot of stars. Now, you fly over a human settlement- a sprawling city dotted with twinkling city-lights. The starry sky and the city- both glisten like competing diamond necklaces!

What untold story lies beneath this city? Cities, hamlets, men, women- their peals of laughter, their brooding sadness, their relentless struggles- everything reduced to tiny diamond studs. From the vantage point of the night sky, it is picture-perfect.

As you press your nose against the plane’s window, a thought comes to mind. “Maybe, we get too close for comfort-too close to people, too close to the profession, too close to all else.  In the process, our struggles get magnified, and we suffer needlessly. All we need to do, is to take one step back and admire the painting. It is like watching from the skies.  Our life with its seeming jagged edges, suddenly gets smoothened, and unfolds like a tapestry- at once beautiful and studded with diamonds!”

 

The "sir" syndrome

In the US, you address everyone by the first name, regardless of age. He could be your graduate professor or the person at the grocery counter. "Hi Jim" will work at both places equally well! Coming from India, you find it odd, especially when you are talking to someone, twice your age. The honorific "sir" comes automatically, both in written and spoken speech.

Imagine calling "Subramaniam sir" in college as "Hi Sub!" and engaging in the conversation with a cheery, "How are you doing dude?" It would sound jarring. Moreover, you are sure he will make a mental note of it and get back at you in kind, when he evaluates your exam paper! There was no point taking a chance! You were better off with a safe "sir".

The only confusion arose when it came to Mr Desai and Mr Sardesai and both were your professors. You had to demarcate them carefully as “Sir Desai” and the other with almost a double honorific as "Sir Sir-desai"!

“Sir” was your best bet when you had to cringe and plead for marks. “Sir-sir-sir-sir, please sir! Give me one mark sir! I will pass sir!”

"Sir" could well be a legacy from the days of the Raj. You signed letters in the olden days with "yours obediently" and "yours respectfully" that mandated a natural "sir" at the beginning. But “sir” might have predated the British too. Some of your common prayers, asking for the whole world to be happy, surprisingly start with a “sir”- “sir-vey bhavantu sukhinah!”

In India, you use "sir" generously, almost like a punctuation mark, even with peers. "When did you reach Delhi sir? I hope you are having a good time sir!" This style works like a charm- it is a deft way of endearing yourself into the other’s good books.

In North India, the sir is coupled with a trailing ‘ji’. While "sir" sounds too curt and British like, "sir ji" has an avuncular tone to it. Respect and affection are wrapped in the usage. “No problem sir ji!  We can always find some paratha and some lassi-shassi for dinner sir ji!” 

In the South, "sir" is changed to "saar". It is strewn liberally in daily conversation. "What is this Saar? Why should you pay? I will pay for the idli and bonda saar!"

Sometimes, the "sir" comes out with a different punch. You casually tell the person, “I am planning to go to the US for a few weeks”. He sits bolt upright and acknowledges with a crisp “sir!” “I will be back by the end of the month.” He shoots back, “Sir!” The "sir" says it all- both intent and attention. He has to be from the army!

Given the above track record, how can I call you, “Hi Jim”? It is not going to work Jim saar! I will have to call you Jim sir ji!

 

Washing and ironing- the 2 paradigms!

In India, you take a lot of things for granted- something as elementary as washing and ironing clothes. Think about it- you have a domestic help who comes home each day. The clothes are washed and set to dry in the balcony. Over the weekend, the iron-wala is at your doorstep. You give him specific instructions, "I need this shirt and this pant by the end of the day!" Such customization is possible. 

Sure enough, by the end of the day, you have your ironed pair home-delivered. In a couple of days, he brings back the entire load. You needn't pay him right away. He keeps track of the record and every few months, you make a lumpsum payment.

You unwrap the cloth bundle- the shirts and pants are crisply pressed and stacked in a pile. Touch the ironed cloth to the cheek, and you feel the entrapped warmth. A subtle aroma of coal hangs about each dress.  Each shirt has a newspaper backing, to keep it stiff and straight. There is such precision to the entire process.

Come the next day, open your wardrobe, and there are so many options to choose from! 

True, this perk comes with a few trappings. Off and on, the iron-wala wants you to lend some cash.  Either there is a wedding in the family or some eventuality that you cannot question. "Every month, I will deduct 500, and that way, you need not pay me!" He comes up with detailed statistical data. It is too confusing- you gloss over the calculation. The trust is so total.

At times, he hangs around longer than usual. You wonder what the reason is. He shuffles his feet, scratches his head, and mumbles, "Deepavali is round the corner, something...little bit you can spare please?"

You now land up in the US. There is no outside help; the onus is entirely on you. If you rent an apartment, there is no washer-dryer at home. Every weekend, you head out with the basket of unwashed clothes to the community laundromat. You carry with you "7 quarter" coins for the washer, plus the detergent. After 45 minutes of washing, you come back. You shift the washed clothes to the dryer. 4 more quarter coins are required to kickstart the dryer. Once the clothes emerge from the dryer, you hang them up in the closet. That's it! No need to iron the clothes since they come out reasonably fluffy from the dryer. Plus, you learn to be less finicky!

Two opposite paradigms are at work here- one, where you are part of a human story, unfolding each day, with several characters hanging around you. The other, where the mantra is plain and simple- "Self-help is the best help!" (swayam kritam...su-kritam!) 

Both models work. It is for you to choose!

   

A stroll through Berkeley

A university campus makes you feel like a student once more. It's just the ambience- filled with buildings of different sciences, that kindles the thirst for knowledge. 

The Berkeley campus is one such. It is early summer at this time of the year. The days are long, with bright sunshine well after 7 in the evening. Out in the sun, it feels warm, but the moment you step into the shade, you feel the nip in the air. 

You walk down Oxford Street till you meet Hearst Street. The university campus stretches beyond Hearst. There is no clear demcarcation between the town and the university. They seemlessly merge into the other, without a boundary wall to separate the two worlds. Perhaps, the founding principle of "free speech" at Berkeley, influenced such a juxtaposition. Alternately, in an earlier world, there was no need for additional security. After all, the Berkeley campus goes back in time, to the late 1800s. 

The terrain in undulating. You are negotiating slopes all the time. From vantage points within the campus, you look yonder, and you can spot the Bay. In the sun, the limpid water of the distant bay is a crisp silver line and beyond the bay, you can see the outline of the mountains, colored a deep purple.

Redwood trees that California is known for, pock the university campus. The trees are gigantic- with the bark, several feet wide and with dark green foliage. It is a riot of green-some trees with a fresh coat of light-green leaves in spring and the redwoods, with its deep-green competing with these newborns! A tiny creek creeps its way on one side of the campus. The flow is gentle, with the sound of one of those therapeutic fountains that you would keep in the living room- just that steady drip, and no more,

You leave the redwoods and it opens into vast meadows of green, that sparkle in the late afternoon sun. The department of Psychology, the Life Sciences building and the Library are imposing structures. 

Alongside, is the campus clock tower called the "campanile". This tower can be seen from most parts of the campus. It tolls and announces each hour. Beyond the campus tower is the Greek Theatre- It looks like a colliseum- a stadium in stone, arranged in a circle and overlooking the stage. The Graduation ceremony is held here for select departments.

The campus also hosts a stadium, bigger than the Greek Theatre. Almost the size of a Cricket ground, this is the location where the Graduation ceremony for all departments is held. Almost 8000 of them graduate each year and the stadium is packed with 10s of thousands of spectators for the Graduation ceremony. 

The library holds special interest. Once inside, it looks like Victorian era palace, with paintings on the walls. There is a sculpture of Mark Twain, sitting casually on a bench, as soon as you enter the library.

An essay on Berkeley would be incomplete without mentioning its characteristic shout of "Go Bears!" Each ceremonial speech is ended with "Go Bears", that is met with the same response from the raucous crowd!

The ChatGPT takeover

The internet took over our lives, so much so, we can hardly imagine life without it. It has proliferated into every nook and cranny, across all strata of society. 

We are told, we are on the cusp of a similar takeover, this time, by ChatGPT.

It is such a buzzword that if you express ignorance, people glare at you, “You have not heard about ChatGPT?”  “Who is he?” I asked. “It’s a chatbot!” my friend replied. “What’s a chatbot?” I questioned. “It’s a bot!” he replied. “What’s a bot?” I asked, wondering if he is going to answer- “a bot is an ot”!

Thankfully, I did get a bounded answer- “A bot is something you can program to do certain tasks”. “What tasks can chatGPT do?” I asked. “It can do all tasks- it can write software code, better than you!” I was relieved, “I don’t even want to write code. I’ll gladly let chatGPT write my code!” “Then, what will you do?” he asked. “Well, I will do something, may be, farming!” I replied with a wry smile.

“ChatGPT can do better farming. It can be programmed to sow seeds, water the plant, everything!”

Apparently, ChatGPT is already everywhere. It can do a student’s homework. Professors are having a tough time to decide if the homework was done by ChatGPT or the student. For that, they have created a bigger chatGPT- to detect the student’s ChatGPT. And of course, the students will not sit idle. They will invent a bigger ChatGPT to swallow the professor’s ChatGPT. It is like the small fish swallowed by the big fish, extending ad infinitum.

“This is the future!” my friend said grimly. “Can this be averted?” I asked. “No! It is already set in motion!” It looked as if humanity was destined to be non-participating zombies soon, taken over by ChatGPT and its ilk.

“Can I ask ChatGPT to destroy itself?” I asked. Like the demon Bhasmasura, ChatGPT can place its hand on its head and end this vicious cycle. One pandemic was enough. We don’t want another one now.

Suddenly, my friend was in a tearing hurry. “I need to check if the ChatGPT software code has considered this self-destruction clause. If not, I just have to add a one-liner instruction, “if self-destruct, then, do-nothing! That will make ChatGPT immortal!” He got into his driverless car.  As he sped away, the police booked him for rash driving and took him to custody. I was relieved that the self-destruct loophole was left open. There is still hope for mankind!

But now, I wonder if this article should be printed. Who knows? ChatGPT may read this article, get nefarious ideas from it, take care of the self-destruction clause on its own, and attain immortality!

Mankind is then certainly doomed! 

P.S: This article was written by ChatGPT.

The Chief Guest

An unavoidable fixture in any function is the Chief Guest’s address. The occasions vary- it could be the Annual Day at School, Sports Day or the neighborhood Independence Day program.

There is no doubt that the Chief Guest is a man of achievement. The anchor of the ceremony announces grandly, “Today’s Chief Guest needs no introduction!”

Call it lack of basic general knowledge, this is the first time you have heard the Chief Guest’s name. Thankfully, the anchor fills in, for the lacuna. “Nevertheless, I will go ahead and read out his accomplishments that are too many to enumerate!” The Chief Guest smiles gently.

Evidently, the Chief Guest is a pioneer in his field with several awards to his credit, “both in India and abroad”. If he is a musician, the anchor waxes eloquent. “Pandit ji has received” and reels out the full list. There is “sangeet shiromani”, “sangeet ratnakara”, “sangeet kalaanidhi” and several other poly-syllabic titles, that the anchor is reading for the first time. He stumbles and slurs over many a title name, but to his credit, keeps the introduction going.

Finally, he ends with, “I now invite the Chief Guest to grace the occasion and say a few words.” The audience claps heartily- glad to finally do something.

The Chief Guest now begins his speech. He is a sensitive person and acknowledges, “I don’t want to stand between you and the lunch to follow. I have been on the other side and understand what it feels like! I will keep it short.”

The moment the Chief Guest starts with these words of caution, you learn to be wary. Chief Guests are notorious to violate all good intention once they begin talking. It is as if, they want to exact revenge, now that they have the microphone in hand, and a captive audience.

If the Chief Guest is a techie, you have had it. He goes on an autobiographical spiel; strewn with words and terms you have never heard of. He talks about how he started with “digital control systems” and “processors” and how the “market was not ready for it in those days”. The only market you have heard about is the vegetable market and wonder why the market was not ready. Maybe, it was too early in the morning?

The Chief Guest rambles away. You glance this way and that. You are not the only hostage. The little boy alongside pesters his mother that he is getting bored. The mother sternly glares at him and orders him to sit quietly.  You make eye contact with the child and smile. He buries his head in his mother’s lap, looks at you from the corner of the eye, and smiles back. The elders are not doing any better. Some pull out their smartphones and are scrolling away, watching some reels. Others pace up and down the aisle to get to the restroom or check if early lunch is served.

The Chief Guest is blissfully unaware and continues his monotone. After a good 45 minutes, he finally vacates the podium.

The audience breaks into a thunderous applause, in the process, waking up some folks who just could not keep up. The anchor is back on stage and reads out, “Thankyou sir for your thought provoking and inspiring speech. We are indeed blessed, and your words of wisdom will stay with us forever!”