In pursuit of a corner office

I read an interesting post thanks to Russell Davies about the early bird getting the corner office. He had listed 6 industry captains and when they wake-up with the title “The early bird gets the corner office”. I was impressed and as everyone would I too want a corner office. I decided today that I would get to office early and I hit office by 7.00a today. For doing so I had to wake up by 5.00a. Here I am trying to list down the pros and cons I found in my first day of the new experiment.

Advantages

1. I beat the Dubai traffic. While it takes about 1.30 to 2 hrs to reach my office normally it took me half an hour this morning.

2. I was the first one to read the newspapers that are made available in my office. Normally it is pretty messy after at least about 5-6 servings.

3. I had nobody but me in the office. So I started working at peace and finished what I should have in the first part early.

4. I must certainly have impressed a few of my clients. I mailed back to their queries unusually early in the day.

5. Being early morning it was not all that hot in Dubai.

6. Had an early breakfast because I had to leave. So I would feel hungry by 12.30p and I wouldn’t miss lunch today. My wife would be happy!!

7. I had to reply to one of my bosses mails. So when he sees the time when this mail was sent he might be impressed. May be I get a good appraisal and a hike soon!!

Disadvantages

1. I found it extremely difficult waking up. It is not that I have never seen 5a, but that was when I played serious cricket for going to practice. Now the scene is different and very difficult.

2. I had to listen to some stupid early morning shows in the FM radio here, unusually I preferred the Hindi radio today. The RJ was irritatingly loud and was laughing loud for her own stupid cracks.

3. I had to open the office. Being the first one to reach I had to.

4. I had to pick-up all the newspapers scattered in front of the office, arrange them in the reception. That was before I read it.

5. I felt extremely lonely. I think I would get used to this. The server was making a strange noise, a combination of a bees buzz and a distant pneumatic drill.

6. Finally I had to clean-up my desk. I found it very messy for once, when I entered office today. I had time, so I had to clean my desk. While my colleagues would be happy for me, I have a back pain cleaning the mess.

Summarizing my experimentation being an early bird

I think I would try doing so for a week so and then evaluate. But unfortunately I read Mr Tim Harford who writes “Dear Economist” in FT (thanks again to Russell Davis for making me read Tim). This was about getting to office early (first) and leaving late (last). And I quote him here “I have a word of advice and a word of caution. If you want to play this game, my own research suggests that the competition will become easier to win as the year draws on and your rivals use up their reserves of energy and spousal goodwill. Take it easy at first and only burn the midnight oil once your rivals are getting divorced.
But perhaps you should not play at all. This is a competition likely to be won by whomever is most optimistic about the prospects for a juicy raise. Optimists tend to be disappointed.”
Now, I am reconsidering my decision to hit office early. May be I would get an answer once I am a beer or two down this weekend.

A creative brief and a baby walker

I got my 6 month old son a walker, complete with some music which gets him going. It was quite an experience putting Anirudhha on the walker for the first time. When I did so, I could first see that Anirudhha was not a happy baby. He didn’t seem to like getting confined to a small frame with wheels which had a padded seat and backrest to support him. His defense mechanism worked to the fullest, he wouldn’t leave my shirt as he was getting dropped in his walker for the first time. When I did manage to wriggle out of his hold and stepped back with anxiety as to how my baby son would respond. He did with a kind of a war cry, he didn’t seem to like his new walker.

I pulled Anirudhha off the walker puzzled thinking what I should be doing, to make him enjoy sitting in there. Then stepped in my wife, she was quite confident that he would start liking his walker and he would be comfortable in it.

Roopa first took Anirudhha for a guided tour of his walker, she first made him hear the musical sounds from the walker. He was smiling, that was an improvement. She then took Anirudhha’s finger near the buttons that would teach him Cat, Hen, Cow, Dog etc. My son was amused to hear different sounds, he slowly started moving his hands trying to make his own musical sounds. He was happy, slowly he was getting to know his new friend, the walker.

And now Roopa makes him sit in the walker, he seems happy. He kept pressing different buttons for his dose of music and also started to move slowly. Wow what a sight it was to see my baby son trying to take his first steps using a walker.

It was then I was remembered about the creative briefs we write, it has quite a few similarities to my sons walker.

Similarity in terms of acceptance by the creative folks… The story is similar to putting my son on the walker, here it is putting a brief on my creative team.

When I walk into my creative teams room with a brief in hand, the first thing I would face is rejection.

I wouldn’t take any brief now, we loaded.

This brief is a cliché, it sucks as usual

Hey you have just cut paste your previous brief, given it a new name and got it here

I am not taking any of your briefs now

Here I take Roopa’s approach. Try show my creative team the colorful carrot my brief would buy them, in terms of awards & accolades, a raise and how interesting life is going to be after they finish working on this wonder brief from me.

Once I finish doing this first round, I would see some kind of an acceptance. And now I sit down with them and try take them through my brief.

Here they go, this product wouldn’t sell.
It doesn’t make any sense

Now, I try show them the other support I have to prove that this indeed is a good product and it would sell. I barely manage to convince them.

Now the discussion veers to the proposition.

We can’t take this, this is rubbish
Now the third and final round of convincing them starts. This time to prove how interesting the proposition is. And I do manage to sell my brief and I would have my work ready in a couple of days. What a life getting kids and creative folks on the walker!!

Cut the crap

“Why don’t you ‘cut the crap’ and say only what you want to?”

“Cut the crap” - A very commonly used term when we want to shut someone off, when we don’t like something said.

I use it, you use it and, we use this phrase quite very often. Somewhere, somehow I feel that this usage wrong. By saying “cut the crap” we don’t quite express what we actually want to. To put it simply it is a misusage.

Now let me explain why.

What happens when you cut the crap? Even thinking about it makes you feel sick, Is is not?

It still is crap. But in smaller quantities or to be a bit gross, present in portions. But that crap isn’t done away. You barely manage to reduce the amount.

The result – Crap is crap, whatever quantities you might find it in. It still stinks.

So what should be the correct usage.

You should do away with crap / nonsense.

Which is “Cut the crap off”

So next time you use this phrase say “Cut the crap off” in full. It would only then make sense.

And now I would cut this crap off.

When an event planner fails – India Vs. Pakistan in Abu Dhabi

India is playing Pakistan in Abu Dhabi, it is a two match series. This series is aimed at helping the victims of the deadly earthquake that happened in Pakistan a couple of months ago. The matches, dubbed as the DLF Cup happen on 18.04.2006 and 19.04.2006, a Tuesday and Wednesday respectively. Both are day-night contests starting 3.30p Abu Dhabi time.

Well that was information we know. Now moving on to something else we might have missed out on…

Traditionally if you remember the days when matches in Sharjah used to be played. If it were an India, Pakistan fixture the match would be scheduled for either a Thursday evening, if it was a day-night or a Friday. The reason being, Thursdays are half working days in this part of the world and Fridays, as one might know a holiday. Thursdays and Fridays are considered weekends here.

Now try refresh your memory and remember the crowd composition. We had only two kinds of crowds. One the affluent crowd, which included the Anju Mahendru’s, Mandakini’s and others plus Abdul Rahman Bukhatir. This crowd would also include some known faces and names in terms of politicians, actors and others.

The second was the laborer crowd, these are people who come to the UAE to do some skilled labor work, including your mason, carpenter, mechanics and construction workers. This class constituted the largest chunk of the crowd, both Indians and Pakistanis.

You would seldom see people like me and you among the crowd. Unless we are given a free pass to watch the match from one of the vantage stands we wouldn’t even care to go near the over crowded stadium.

This is something we have seen in our TV’s and I have over my last year in the UAE heard from my friends who have been here since the hay days of Sharjah. Now let us see what the intelligent planners at the Sheikh Zayeed Stadium in Abu Dhabi have done for the DLF Cup.

A) They have scheduled the matches on working days

Even considering the fact that this is a day-night fixture starting by 3.30p. One is supposed to reach the stadium at least a couple of hours before to get a strategic position to watch the match.

Now, I am a laborer. I am a cricket buff. But when it comes to life and death I can do away with cricket. Well I guess that would how any sane human being would think. So if I were to bunk work where I get paid by the day, a peanut of a sum then I wouldn’t sacrifice work for cricket. I would rather give cricket a miss.

Now, if I was that serious a buff who didn’t want to miss work as well as work. I would at least have to sacrifice one session of the match, a strategic position and some valuable Dirhams to watch the second session and presentation. I frankly don’t know how many would want to do it.

So the planners have failed on one critical count. Now let us see what is next.

B) Pricing the tickets

The tickets have been priced at Dh. 50 for those famous grass mounds and Dh. 150 for seating. I am not even discussing the other tickets like the boxes. Now Dh. 50 is lots of money for the laborer.

May be that would make sense if he had the opportunity to watch the full match and also the glitterati from Bollywood who is going to perform and the fire works et al. But that would be a big MAY BE.

So the planners have failed in all critical aspects of staging a India – Pakistan encounter, a supposed money spinner in this part of the world.

The local newspaper just echoed my view. According to “Gulf News” there are 6000 tickets that are yet to be sold. I just got to know that the Dh. 50 mound passes are not sold in advance but sold in the venue, over the counter. The stadium seats 16,000 people. Now having not sold 6000 tickets, you expect 10,000 minus the crowd for the mounds. I don’t have a figure as to what the mounds would seat. Therefore. you would have to wait and see how much of your mounds gets filled.

To sum up, unless and until something extraordinary happens. Abu Dhabi government declares a local holiday for the matches or the laborers get a bonanza of a two day vacation, this match is going to be a failure in terms of crowd support in the venue.

Let us hope and pray the first international cricket match Abu Dhabi is staging is a success, Insha Allah. Hope I am proved wrong by the cricket crazy India & Pakistan supporters.

A Reason for a riot

As I opened a regional newspaper here in Dubai this morning. On the front page, bold and blaring it read “Actors death sparks violence in India”. Yes that was the news about Rajkumar, the Kannada actor passing away. I had just finished reading this news when a colleague of mine, an English man asked me innocently “But, he died naturally right? Or was it a murder or something?”. As an Indian I felt insulted by this innocent remark made by my colleague.

I fail to understand why on earth would anyone who is in no way related to the man who passed away peacefully due to old age, pelt stones, burn vehicles and vandalize shops. What do these people who indulge in such kind of violence gain breaking and damaging public property?

Would Rajkumar wake up human from corpse because the vandals managed to burn 10 vehicles and injure 40 others?

Would god lord almighty come down straight to Bangalore and revive Rajkumar or at least apologize to these people for committing the grave sin of having to take the life of a man 77 years old?

I fail to understand why people do such kinds of drama, sullying the name of the nation – India, making the complete IT & ITES setup to come to a grinding halt for a couple of days and there by ensuring crores of Rupees worth losses. Yes, I saw in a television news channel that the call centers and IT organizations are not working and the government has declared two days of mourning for the guy who passed away – An actor.

Even accepting the greatness of the actor he was, would these organizations have declared a holiday for that merit? I doubt, they have declared this holiday because they feared for their infrastructure, the danger to the lives of their employees and their properties.

So the net result, the vandals have managed to spoil the name of a great country, the country's business interests and by doing so they also have managed to damage and erase the respect a person from these industries and the general public would have had for the great actor who passed away, Dr. Rajkumar.

Very similar was the pictures beamed from outside a Jodhpur jail where the great, Salman Khan was imprisoned till this morning. I saw people demonstrating outside the jail asking Salman to be released and all charges against him dropped.

Think about these scenarios and you would have 20 coming up. Agitation because Amar Singh’s phone was tapped, because Sonia Gandhi resigned again, because Saurav Ganguly was dropped from the Indian cricket team and so on…

God knows when some stupid people from our great nation India stop doing these kinds of cheap drama for publicity and sully the entire nations name around the world, thanks to the cameras of BBC, CNN and various other news media from around the world. And also effectively derailing the business machinery in the country and thereby loosing crores of Rupees.

Advertising – Sane and sensible

Traditionally advertising is defined as the “business of drawing public attention on goods and services”. That is the very dictionary definition of advertising, the business that helps my chimneys fuming, the trade that has been feeding me & my family for the past 7 years.

I was taught about various models of advertising or rather making your advertising visible and heard. From the AIDA model to the recent Disruption theory. I have been beamed a few award winners through our b-school boardroom projectors, from the local advertising club award winners to the complex least comprehended Cannes winners. I graduated to get into the best of advertising agencies to see some of the accounts of mine getting recognized from the local levels to a Cannes and an Echo. Laurels apart I learnt about five key factors that are important to reach a message to the consumer, the way they like – the way they could assimilate.

The vehicle, timing, message, differentiation and relevance…

I have till date experienced, seen or produced advertisements that try and conquer all the five frontiers of becoming the best advertisement. The result, they are found lacking on at least one parameter and hence becoming incomplete. The products or service so advertised is still preferred by a set of consumers or jury who reward it with gold’s and grand prix. I was searching for one advertisement that fulfilled all the five parameters, that ended when I saw this small strip on a newspaper supplement here in Dubai.

I’m sure you would have your own opinion on this piece and also have your own favorites. I would agree opinions are highly subjective, views depend on eyes. To make things less complicated I’m trying to present my view on good advertising. To agree or disagree is your prerogative. That said, I would love your comments on my views. For that would help me grow and mature.


The vehicle:

This advertisement in question was published in the Entertainment Plus magazine dated 08.03.2006, a supplement with Gulfnews one of the leading newspapers in the United Arab Emirates in the bottom of the 36th page..

Timing:

As I said this is a supplement in colour, it is a magazine that contrasted its parents nature – A newspaper. This supplement as its name suggests is all about entertainment, cinema, gossip and Television programming. Hence the possibility of a consumer preferring this to the parent, the newspaper is more. The baseline – this supplement is well read.

Message:

This was an advertisement for a restaurant in Dubai, to be precise a Chinese restaurant. Knowing Dubai as a city of international importance and understanding the kind of expatriate crowd in the city one could estimate the number of eateries and restaurants here. From star class to the lowest possible class. You have the spectrum available.

So it doesn’t bother where you advertise, when you advertise or why you advertise. The thing that matters the most, as usual is How you advertise – what is your differentiator.

The differentiator:

As we know Dubai is a city with diverse expatriate population. Hence you see all possible world cuisine permutations available at some place or the other. You could see the Indians living here preferring a set of restaurants. Same is the case with Chinese or a British, French or anybody else. The brave few would defy all odds to carefully select those who have the maximum “Word of mouth” and test it. But you seldom see someone transcend these borders.

Hence the differentiator should be able to break the regional barrier and give a global feel, yet be authentic to the roots.

So how about a “Indianised Chinese Cuisine”. Back in India everything is spiced up, flavored. In China it is more bland, raw and natural. So when the Chinese came to India during the pre-historic period they brought with them their recipes, these were blend with the Indian spices to give birth to a new genre of cuisine that was oriental and spicy.

As years passed by lots of the so called Chinese and fast food restaurants mushroomed in India, people started getting used to this flavor and many liked & patronized it. This spread all across the world where the Indians spread. But with limited commercial success. The reason when it was communicated it was either miscommunicated as authentic Chinese food or as the traditional Indian tandoor food. It doesn’t fit both and hence it was a flop.

Relevance:

Here is one “Imperial Dragon” who is brave enough to have the Indian as well as the Chinese tag here as part of his communication. So what make this communication so special for me?

The expat population in UAE is largely Indian and Pakistani, then come the Europeans. The Indians and the Pakistanis are familiar with the Indian made Chinese food, but they can’t stand the authentic Chinese variety. For they want spicy food. So tell them about a Chinese restaurant they would be apprehensive, they wouldn’t even test the food. So when you say the Indian Chinese food, you have a higher probability that they would flock.

Target two are the Europeans. These are guys who already are familiar with the “Chicken Tikka Masala”, the so called national dish of England. Many there still think it is an Indian dish, some know about its Bangladeshi origins. Everyone loves it, so the baseline – they have started liking those food that carry an Indian tag. While this thesis is not a global truth yet, you could largely claim so. Hence if you go to the European crowd and say, hey I have got a food that is Chinese but has a signature Indian taste there is a good probability that they would at least try this cuisine. As someone who has tried this, I would say the percentage dropouts would be far less compared to the hook-ons.

The net result due to the differentiation and relevance of this piece of communication – you have the Indian & Pakistani crowd coming for sure, the local UAE crowd as I know loves the Indian spicy food varieties and they are known for their experimental mentality as far as food is concerned. And you have a steady European patronage at least from those brave tester population. So that well covers the final two frontiers differentiation and relevance.

So what more does an advertisement aim for, you got a majority of your audience look at you and say WOW I should try it sometime. I too would try this food sometime, for I have been enchanted by this restaurants communication strategy. It scores 5/5 from me.

Cost of creativity

I was reading a piece from one of the advertising, media & marketing magazines back here in Dubai. There I found this gentleman, creative director of a direct marketing agency who had given his opinion about direct marketing. He had actually said “Some direct marketing Ideas get squashed by clients because they have overshot the budget…”. I was thinking about this remark of this gent, it wasn’t digesting. I am here trying to contradict the statements made by the gentleman and trying to explain why I think otherwise.

The first oxymoronic thing I found in this statement was “Ideas” and “Budget”. You can’t try and mix both these things. For “Ideas” has something to do with creativity, thinking, et al. “Budgets” as we know is money, plain simple dollars. To tell why they don’t go hand in hand, I have this simple example.

Say I want to go to Paris. But everyone on earth who aspires to go there flies there, some from Europe and around drive their way through. I don’t want to do what others are doing, I want to break the clutter. And therefore I want to go to Paris biking. This is my idea. I want to be different, stand alone hence thinking a bit creative (although this is a little clichéd…) I chose the biking route.

Now having said that I would have to embark on a different task, which is costing my trip or budgeting for my adventure. Now if I have a strong will and have a good enough belief on this particular idea I have come up with, I would find budgets from somewhere to execute this idea of mine. In case, god forbid I figure I don’t have budgets to support my idea . I would think about options or other ways of executing this idea of myself of having to bike to Paris.

So if one had a good enough idea he shouldn’t worry about the budgets at all. If the client comes back with this excuse of budgets, don’t worry if you think you are armed with a whale of an idea. You would find economical ways to execute that whale of an idea of yours. Yes, you would find a way to render your idea come what may.

So the next time your client says he doesn’t have budgets to do something you propose, be sure that is not convinced enough with the IDEA of yours.

The first step to that believe in yourself, believe in your ideas, think creative. The ways, means and budgets for execution would follow.

To sum up there is nothing called “Cost of creativity” in this world. Remember even while advertising agencies, for the sake of earning a living and survival have a RATE CARD for their creative they don’t and can’t produce a RATE CARD for creativity.

They moment someone tries to come up with a RATE CARD for creativity, they are fooling you with stereotypes, something uncreative.

10 things to remember if you aspired to be a Pizza delivery boy / girl

Believe me it is remunerating, I am seriously considering a switch in careers.

1. Practice reading maps: That would help you get acclimatized with the city/town where you plan to work as a pizza delivery boy
2. Learn to ride a bike or rather learn how not to ride a bike: That would help you horrify traffic, a few by standers and a couple of Jaywalkers to get your way through the maddening streets. Most of all have a valid license along. If you don’t have one, ask for your friends, take it to a colour photocopy place and get a fake done. This is most important, you never know when you would be stopped by an unfriendly policeman.
3. Speak out don’t shy away: This would make you ask for directions from unknown people when you loose your way to a delivery, stand a better chance of asking a beautiful lady customer out for a date (in case you want a shift in jobs, though you could end up in a police station)
4. Collect coins (only the relevant currency): This would stand you a better chance of getting bigger tips from your customers. For example if you need to pay a customer 50 bucks, pay him / her out in small change. This would force them return some as tips just because of the laziness of people to carry small change in their pockets / wallets
5. Bathe properly, keep yourself decently groomed: This would make sure your stink doesn’t take away the sweet smell of the pizza away while you deliver.
6. Always remember to get two good reasons as to why you were late: More often than not you end up pissing the customers off because your chef didn’t cook your pizza’s in time or the odd traffic cop stopped you for over speeding. In case of these kinds of eventualities you must have at least two proper reasons to cool your customers tempers.
7. Learn reading / understanding faces: This would help you say the right things post you having delivered the pizza. You might ring the bell for a delivery when a husband and wife or two live-in mates are right in the middle of a good middle of the week fight, just say thank you sir or madam once you deliver and rush back. Don’t take the pain of wishing them a nice meal or a nice day / night and piss them off.
8. Learn the art of deceiving walks: Whenever you near a door for a delivery try walking fast, pant if you could. This would create an impression that you take extra pains delivering, this would also ensure that your cold pizza is kept hot – at least in your customers minds till you leave.
9. Practice not to spit as you speak: While may like when it rains, people don’t appreciate when it rains from some ones mouth. And if you spit as you speak as a pizza delivery boy you stand the risk of wetting up your customers face as well as his favorite pizza. You might also be fortunate enough to have a blow or two landed on your face for doing so, so don’t spit when you speak. If you can’t resist, keep your customer and the pizza you carry at a safe distance.
10. Forget Hammurabi and his “Tit for Tat” principle: You might occasionally have some customers who would hurl some abuses, forget and forgive them. For, he or she is your company owners relative. You might painfully lose your job, if they are not related then they would make sure you and your company are well taken care of by an attorney, police or at least by his / her residential security. You might well end-up having a black eye trying to retaliate verbally.

A priceless conversation I would treasure

I, Raja Baradwaj have never been a woman’s man. I have always had my share of problems with women, big huge problems. Those never qualified me a macho, a chauvinist or a womankind hater. The reality has always been that the women never or sometimes ever liked one or more qualities of me Raja B. All this said, I have always and will and would respect women, those Kamala’s, Aparna’s, July’s and Roopa’s in earth, my mother, sister, dog and wife of mine with whom I have always had a special relationship, not forgetting a recent addition an Ananya, my kid sister’s little daughter.

That was perhaps the reason why I never ever had a steady girlfriend though my school and college life, no women asked me out, only a few cranky women danced with me in parties – lots indeed parted ways more than before partying (even though I had a good few of them walking in and out of my life, my history books).

Leaving Roopa alone, custom made for me probably, and add a Sangeeta, Vanaja and a few more, they have all been good friends, very good friends they remain till day and would remain after. And not forgetting all those 35+ (aged) receptionists of all the few many organizations I have been part of till date.

Lady clients have always been not my cuppa tea. But being in client servicing I have always managed to handle them effectively or at least tried to. But I end up cribbing about them more than I would have praised any in my entire life, at least after a drink down.

And this one lady client of mine is so special. I would never ever forget this interaction of mine with her, for sure. I have only had a very few interactions with this lady.

I never wanted to make this few turn many for various reasons. The main being I didn’t like the looks of her, I wouldn’t stand. The other one being that she was a receptionist or an office assistant before getting to be a corporate monster she is today, a marketing staff in the organization.

She had no idea about what marketing was, and is still one. She doesn’t want to understand what marketing is all about. But she always wants to project herself as the most wanted person in her organization, of my clients. She is someone who strongly thinks T & B would get you reach the pinnacle of a corporate (read the T as tits and B as Butt please). And I swear she is a B, a big B (now you decipher what a B is, this word ends with an “itch”!!)

I was barely managing her till this meeting of us happened in one of the exhibitions this client of mine was participating. She was standing in the stall TALL, trying to MAN it as usual when me and my boss Bala decided to pay them a courtesy call. When my boss and me said a hai to everyone in the stall this woman was acting busy ignoring us. My boss decided to ignore her, he was a sane man. He had identified a spade a spade.

I thought why leave her, so I with all my saneness decided to walk up to her for a hello and this is what transpired that day, I repent for that, I now repent. Raja B why did you have to do that, why the fuck did you have to…

Raja B: Hai V@#$a$%, how is it going?

V@#$a$%: Hhh… Hhha… Hhaai……..

Raja B: (puzzled) !! ??

V@#$a$%: you… you are… En… Encomium right??? Raa… Raaj… Raajaa right??? You are??

Raja B: ( even more puzzled) Hai V@#$a$%

V@#$a$%: Nooo, I am very busy you know… you see… I was a little too busy to know, recognize who you are… Raja of Encomium right??

Raja B: Ya… Er… Yes V@#$a$%, thank god you recognized me, it is a pleasure (with a disappointed look on face and fuck you B!@#$ in heart)

V@#$a$%: (turns back to someone in the background) this is the main guy in Encomium you know… our agency… in Karama??

(one dead meat nod of head from the back)

V@#$a$%: @#$%%^ please take care of him okay, he is the main guy… OK??

Raja B: Ok V@#$a$% you shoud be very busy I would catch you, bye…

And that was it the great interaction was over and out.

What in earth anyone have to say post an interaction like that??

I said FUCK YOU, ironically in my minds, inside my mouth my tongue rolled. And I would do that literally some day and I mean it.

God save the corporate world and god save me.

I “Fancy” going to work…

Well, you might think who is this guy who fancies going to work. After all who fancies working? Everyone does fancy getting a pay cheque and they are concerned only about that, getting their pay cheque. Who cares about work in today’s world. But still when somebody says I Fancy going to work, why does he say that?

Fancy is the name of the transport service I take everyday from Sharjah to Media City in Dubai where I work. I have been “Fancy” ing my way to work for the past 4 months. It has been a fascinating experience taking the Fancy. I get to meet lots of characters there, I get to see the whole world under one roof or it should be over one chassis. I have been laughing at some, thinking why I wasn’t born them when I think about some and I’ve also been wanting to kick their balls. Fancy is full of fun, energy and learning. For me Fancy has been a school on wheels.

How could I forget this fat guy? He gets in at the Rolla bridge, he sits just behind me. He is off sleeping the moment our Fancy ride gets 15 minutes old. In the next 5 minutes he starts snoring. In front of the snore this gentleman generates even the pneumatic drills noise is music. It irritates all my co-passengers. One particular day it irritates this lady who was sitting besides him so much that she shouted “Excuse me”. It was definitely sweeter than the snore he generated. And that was it. The man never sleeps, and what is about sleeping? He doesn’t even looks straight at people in the bus these days. For the last few weeks he is always admiring his boots till he gets down from Fancy.

And if that was one what about this lady? The Punjabi kudi who sits in the adjacent seat invariably gets a call from her “bebe”, that is mother in Punjabi I presume. She speaks in chaste Punjabi with her “bebe” thinking the whole world around her is deaf, nobody hears nothing. Yes, she shouts. With the little Punjabi I understand I could decipher she enquires about “Lucky”, “Robin”, “Babloo” and her dog “Tiger”. It is fun hearing her or is that funny? The phone call ends when she realizes she has spent Dh. 28, an Indian equivalent of about Rs.340. She tells the tally to her “bebe” with her loud, sweet voice before she hangs up. She then starts of in a heavy Punjabi accented Hindi with her housemaid. The FAQ’s are “Why didn’t you come yesterday?”, “I am not happy with the way you wash”, “You waste too much of vegetables and spices when you cook”.

Then I have this French bearded Malayalee. This guy laughs like a horse’s neigh. The whole bus including Mr. Musthafa, the driver turn back to have a look at him to understand what he is doing and what the neigh is all about. I start praying every time I hear him laughing. I pray to god for sparing him for the day “Don’t transform him today. Not when he is in the bus my good lord”. Don’t know which racecourse he would head towards and when.

This Arabic woman comes wearing an Armani hijab, the head dress. She is as hot as red chilly, that is her temperament mind you. If any one comes her way as she gets in the bus she mutters something in Arabic. I think that is the “Bastard, son of a bitch leave way for me” equivalent. As she sits down she gives a strong stare at the man/woman who sit next to her. Next she says “EzzCzz Mye” and tries pulling the curtains of the window down. Someday she reaches the window herself and does her operations right, sometimes she fails reaching the distance. Her next action is funny. She gives a super hot stare to her unfortunate neighbour, says “Ezz Czz Mye, why don’t…” and gets into Arabic saying something. I thing she says “You stupid asshole why don’t you? Do it now… You prick”. It is very funny watching and hearing her and that too, if you don’t know Arabic it’s super funny.

Next comes this 24-carat “Mylapore Mami” (i.e.) a Brahmin looking lady from Mylapore an area in Chennai, India. I think she has just landed in the Emirates and has just landed a job too. Her father comes to get her in the bus, like a school kid. More than this woman, the father is funny. As she is getting inside the bus he shouts “Paathu, Paathu Maa” meaning “Careful, Careful my kid”. Then he starts shouting instructions to her like a football coach. “Get down at Knowledge village”, “Have you taken your bag? Is the tiffin box with you”, “Okay, I would wait for you here by 6.30p”, “Remember to call home before you leave office”. As the bus start you could hear a clicking sound emanating from her hands. She has a run counter which normally umpires use in cricket matches which she keeps clicking at regular intervals. From the frequency of the clicks, carefully reading her lips and the number of clicks she counted one day I could find she chants “Om namo narayanaya namaha” I might be wrong in my reading her lips, but she does keep chanting some mantra till at least I get down at my stop.

There is this lady who fascinates me every Thursday. She fights with her boyfriend without fail on this day. She does this effectively over her hand phone. The whole bus could hear her, if that sounds an exaggeration at least half the bus hears. She lists what she has done for the relationship till date and then goes on numbering what her boy has not done. This conversation normally lasts for about twenty minutes to half an hour and ends with a loud “I don’t buy this bull, BYE”. Then you could see her fanatically SMSing till at least for the next half hour. It is good fun watching the way her face goes as these things unfold. One could see anger, despair, disappointment and also that “fuck you” expression.

Then comes this chatter box Filipino lady with a shrill voice and a loud mouse like laugh. She always talks to her neighbour about leaving back from office in the Pive thirty bus. The Filipino’s can’t distinguish between “P” and “F” and so “Five” becomes “Pive” and “Fuck” becomes “Puck”. And hence my “Pancy”, sorry my “Fancy” ride becomes good “Pun”, sorry “Fun” too. With all my minimal voyeuristic observational power I have learnt a little about the Filipino English grammar and a few words in Tagalog the language they speak “Ghanda” means beautiful and “Maghanda” means Very beautiful.

And then how could I forget this guy who sits next to me. He is a Bangladeshi, speaks the Bangla English. He too sleeps while in transit like most of my fellow passengers. But the problem during the initial days was he needed a shoulder to do so and it was my shoulder. I was patient waking him up and telling him he is sleeping on my shoulder for about 2-3 days. Then my patience dried up. So this particular day as he started sleeping I moved a little forward exposing him to my back. As usual he doused off, leaned on my side and to his dismay my shoulder wasn’t there, I had moved. He lost his balance and his head hit the hand rest on my other side. That was a rude jolt, to add insult to his injury I also shouted “That’s why I have been saying don’t lean on my shoulders while you sleep”. I saw him in the bus for the next two days, carefully selecting some other seat. But then he, I thought was too embarrassed by that incident that he doesn’t come in my bus anymore…

And how can I forget this guy. He looks a Maharashtrian, from Bombay I presume. He has a new Nokia 9500 for the past two weeks. He makes it a point to check his ringtones everyday as he sits down in the bus. His experiments with his phone continues till he gets down. And it doesn’t stop there, as he walks down to alight from the bus he keeps staring at his phone holding it at a high esteem. I see a bull in him, inside a china shop… everyday.

There are countless number of other people, specimen who come with me to Media city in the same bus. But every one is a book, I learn a new thing at least every day I take the Fancy. It is a fascinating ride to office. And that is why I FANCY going to office, everyday.

Julius Caesar & the birth of my baby boy…

On September 06, 2005 around 11.45p I got the first call confirming that my wife, back in India is starting to experience the pain – labor pain. It was an hour past of September 07, 2005 when I heard she has been admitted in to the hospital. I didn’t sleep the whole night, was always on the phone trying to get a blow-by-blow account of what is happening in the hospital. For the first time I played or at least tried playing an expectant father.

At 7.00a on September 07, 2005 as I was leaving Sharjah for office the wife was still at the hospital, still in her early stages of pain, they were talking jargons in inches and centimeters. When I managed to speak to them next, 9.00a the news was that the wife had just been carried in to the operation theatre. She developed some complication and the kid was finding it difficult inside, there was a dip in the kid’s heartbeat, which necessitated a caesarian.

It was about 9.45 in Dubai when I was congratulated by my pop in law on becoming a father. A son was born. I heard the mother and the kid were doing well. Now I had to book my tickets back to India to see my boy in person.

Julius Caesar was the first human born out of a caesarian operation, I was one of the next many that followed and now my son is another.

Join me welcoming my son to mother earth and wish him a great stay here.

Moving to Sharjah

“We need to move to a bigger, better place”

“The place we are in is just two and a half times my toilet back in India.”

“It’s dingy, there’s no light… There is not even space to move freely…”

These dialogues seemed familiar and repetitive till we decided we need to find a bigger better place for sure. When we decided we also decided we wouldn’t even consider mainland Dubai, where we were living till now because of the skyscraper size rents. The next best option was Sharjah, another emirate. Meaning it is another kingdom part of the UAE.

Now we analyzed the pros and cons. It was distant definitely, the traffic between Dubai and Sharjah, unimaginably bad. Frequent traffic jams, accidents, bad drivers all along and more the dreaded trio drivers all along (read as Paki, Mallu, Tamil). Now for the positives, the rent – affordable, more spacious living space among others.

The one thing I was more concerned about, more than anything was about the zero tolerance policy towards alcohol in Sharjah. Even possession and consumption is forbidden leave alone driving.

But every one does it discretely openly, so I said okay chalo lets go to Sharjah.

It didn’t take much of a time for us to shortlist and visit a few places before we finalized on Al Amal towers. It was a huge house with a hall that could be converted a disco accommodating at least 30 guests, who could dance without any problems of restriction to movement. A reasonably big dining area, a spacious kitchen, three huge bedrooms, a smaller bedroom and the other stuff one would imagine as part of his dream house. To add to all these inside the house this flat also has a fully equipped gym and a nice swimming pool. Who would not want to live in this kind of an amazing house.

The only bit of convincing the landlord required was about the fact that there were two families moving in, mine and Krishna’s in a three bedroom flat making it all of 4 adults and a “very minor” minor (my kid should be 3 months when my wife joins me here by December 2005). And the other fact that only the gentlemen from the family would move in immediately. Krishna has to get married to bring his wife in, which anyways is happening by the end of September 2005, so by all means the couple should be in by November. And I have to wait till my wife delivered (most probably in the next week) and recuperated before I brought them in.

The representative of the landlord, a lady in her 20s understood us and was very cooperative. So we had the house but had to pay the hefty advance monies in 3 days time.
And now the problem in focus was money. Krishna is getting married soon, he had borrowed with Citibank to take care of that. His coffers were already empty. So it was left to me to beg or borrow and make the money up.

I did both. I took an advance from the office with a promise that I would replace it once my Citi loan comes in and then applied for a loan with Citibank. Finally we managed to pay the monies required and we were ready to move.

I always thought shifting a bachelor accommodation was not all that tough. I had done that myself thrice back in Chennai. But this time we had 2 cots to move, a dressing table, a cupboard, an entertainment rack, a TV and a whole host of systems, lots of my books, clothing to move. We fixed Friday as the D-day when we would shift, Friday is a holiday here in the Gulf region. We fixed up a truck to transport all the stuff, this was supposed to come in by 10a. It was going to be a tough day, we usually wake up by 2p on Fridays, how are we going to manage now?

To add to my cup of woes, Krishna wanted to do a housewarming ceremony. He was adamant that we at least boil milk (back in India this is done as part of the housewarming ceremonies) and do a small pooja ourselves with the Vinayaka my wife had woven as the hero. I finally relented and now we were discussing the guest list for the housewarming. We finalized on 3 from Bala’s family (Bala is my boss!!), 2 from a friend called Jude, another guy called Karthik and Caroline, my colleague at office. And now my worries tripled as the goodtime for the ceremony was 7a on Friday. So I had to wake up by 5.45a have a bath, get ready and then drive all the way to Sharjah from Dubai. But finally I had to.

We started packing on Thursday, there was Karthik to help us do things and a guy called Swami from our office to dismantle things for us. I played a good boss that day meticulously ordering and directing my boys (Krishna & Karthik) on what to do and how to. I didn’t even bother to move an inch of my butt. When things were done, like a good boss I congratulated the boys for a job well done and also added that they could have done better. We ended the day with the quest for a vessel and the kitchen ware to boil milk, we had to settle for an electric cooker after a long search. That too was borrowed from Karthik because we didn’t have any money left with us to buy one.

Friday started as early as 6a. Fanatic calls to all the invitee’s asking them to get ready so that we could pick them up on the way, getting my wife’s f(r)amed Vinayaka etc. It was about 15 minutes after we left that we realized that we need milk to boil and sugar to mix for making it drinkable. We stopped at a few closed shops before Krishna got the milk and as usual forgot to pick sugar up. Now we called Bala who was coming in directly from Sharjah, where he stays to get some sugar in along with his entourage. At 7.45a all was over and fine.

We left the new house for a breakfast which was supposed to be a treat to the guys who had come in for the house warming. After an economy Dh. 7 a head buffet at Dwarka in Sharjah, we headed back to our old place to send things by the van which was supposed to come in by 10.30a.

And now I couldn’t be the same old boss, I had to be a leader. Do things along the boys. It was back breaking, for the first time I felt “Oh god why are we shifting at all, why can’t we stay back in this dingy pigeon hole”. It took more or less 3 hours for us to load all the stuff. We had to lead the van to our new place as he didn’t know where it was. We could see in our rear view mirrors the planks for the base of the bed flapping. We were praying that it doesn’t fall down or do something to obstruct the traffic and nobody takes this as an obstruction to traffic and call the police.

We were lucky to have the truck in front of our new place without a thing falling down on the way or broken or missing. There were only minor cracks or the odd scratches on some stuff. It took another 2 hours for us to move things from the truck to our brand new 3 bed room apartment in the 4th floor. We arranged what we could, what we could not was moved to places where they were meant to sit in. And those things whose fate was not decided were left to find comfort in the big huge hall for now. By then it was time for our lunch, it was 2p. We also had to pick Swami up so that he fixes the cupboard, the entertainment rack, the cots and the dressing table back.

It was 3p when we picked up Swami and headed back to Sharjah, again for the third time the same day without any rest. We were all helping Swami so that the stuff could be finished by 5p when he had to leave (he had to be dropped back). It was back breaking, we also realized that the screws for the cots were lost in transit. Now we don’t have a bed to sleep, we were left with the floor in the hall to find refuge. Things finally got over by 6.30p and it was 7.30p when we managed to reach Dubai to drop Swami, thanks to the famed Sharjah – Dubai traffic. When we dropped Swami we thought the house was in order and now it was up to us to make a home out of it, except for the cots for which we had to hunt for screws.

When we finished our dinner by 9p we felt like the mummies of Egypt, so dead tired. With the Sharjah traffic guiding us we headed back home, to reach there by 9.30p. Sporting a huge “mission accomplished” smile in our faces Krishna and me opened the door of our new home. We found the entire hall where we were supposed to sleep littered with various things, from shaving razor to combs, from hair styling gel to orange juice and lots more including pillows, covers, neck ties and others. We definitely didn’t have energies or time to get back to arranging things. The next day, Saturday was a working day and we had to hit office at least by 9a. So we shoveled all the stuff to one side and spread our bed in between. I slept like a log till 8.30a when my alarm woke me up and it was time I got up and hit the road back to office.

It is three days since we shifted places. But the hall is not looking any better, we still have miles to go in terms of cleaning it up and arranging stuff. And we are sick and tired of doing this on a working day evening.

So things would wait till the next Friday… Hope we manage to tidy the place up then…

What driving around shouldn’t be…

This time around I start with the end, my verdict. For us to get there let us know what I mean by driving around. It actually is the verb form of “drive around”, which in English means “To drive someone around in a vehicle” or crudely put it is “showing a stranger around a place”. Okay enough of the English class now…

I befriended this person from Chennai at the place where I dine here at Dubai. This gentleman had given 9 driving tests in a span of about an year and a half before he finally got his four wheeler license. He was proud to boast that it was worth a wait, as his was for a manual transmission vehicle. While we knew that he only had one and a half feet to support him on the ground, while the other half had gone for a toss due to some damaged tendons (the operation is due sometime now) he was insistent that getting a manual license needs be made a mandatory mark of a man in the Middle East region. While we could understand his reason for being so aggressively gung-ho about the whole thing, a nine time failure. We were trying figure out how on earth a man with one and a half feet drive around in a manual transmission vehicle, changing gear, using a clutch, the break and an accelerator. But he stood his ground (on his one and a half) saying driving was his passion and if at all he pursued his passion that would be on a manual transmission vehicle. We were as usual skeptical.

A day after attaining manhood (getting a manual license) he realized that even for driving an automatic transmission car people need two full legs. So he temporarily (that’s what he says!) bid good bye to the manual cars and took to driving the automatic. Well, he didn’t want to buy a car now as he said he would get one from his office. His name was in the car pool queue in his office and a car would be allotted soon. Till then where would he practice his driving in Dubai (Oops!! That must have been pursue his passion). Enter another friend of mine whose benevolence is a folklore here in Dubai. This man would offer help to anyone be it cash, kind. Be it day or night. He was someone who was already used to giving his car away for these kinds of novice practice drives thro the city of Dubai and around the other emirates. I too would be in the recieving end of this benevolance once I get my license done, his would be my practice car too (hope he doesn't change his mind by then)... So our man drove around the city in Mr. Benevolent’s car for a day or two before he was temporarily allotted a car by his office. But the allotment was only for three days.

Now came the most important phase in his life, his license was about 10 days old and he had to prove to India that he had got his license and he could drive. Opportunity knocked his door when his friends sisters family in Abu Dhabi wanted to go out around the place. Alas our man didn’t have a car as the office had snatched the one given, in Dubai there exists a rule that your license needs to be at least 6 months old before you hire a “rent-a-car”, so he couldn’t. In comes Mr. Benevolent, he offers to rent a car out for the protagonist. This is in spite of the fact that if the guy causes an accident then the car rental company could sue Mr. Benevolent for improper usage of the car, it could probably be a bigger nuisance. But still Mr. Benevolent’s heart is as big as a Big Mac (while for most of us it is just our fist size).

The rules of the game the car rental guy laid when they rented it out on a Thursday evening… the car should be returned on Saturday morning, 10a sharp. The car shouldn’t traverse more than 500 Kms during the two days. An extra kilometer would cost 20 fills (1/5th of a Dirham). Any traffic violations and accidents are the drivers responsibility and when he brings the car back it had to be in as were is condition.

Our man had to take the vehicle from Dubai to Abu Dhabi, pick his friends (a gent and two ladies, among which a lady was as young as Elisabeth Taylor is now). Then the plan was to drive them down to Fujairah and then come back to Dubai after dropping them back in Abu Dhabi. The ride was slated to be somewhere around 850 kms starting from Dubai and back. It was too much an ask for a human being with one and a half legs. But still our man is no ordinary hero, he was confident of conquering the challenges and the distance. He was also confident that me and Mr. Benevolent would join him (which is he and the family in the rented car and me & Mr. Benevolent in his car). Luckily we were tired and hence couldn’t wake up in the morning and we picked the phone up and waved our great guy good bye. But we did promise that we would catch up some time later in the day somewhere.

It was about 3.30p when we decided to embark on our drive for the day, we decided we go to Fujairah from Dubai (which is shorter) and go with him to Abu Dhabi and back. This itself was quite a challenge, covering more than 400 kms. But given the fact that the roads in Dubai are good, we thought it would not be such a big problem. When we were half way down our endeavor we heard our man is still on his way to Fujairah, he was 18 kms short. We wondered how as we ourselves, starting at 3.30 were at that point 60 kms short of the destination. Our mans answer was simple, he missed his way went to another emirate called Ra’s al Khaima which is about 128 kms from Dubai and about 120 kms from Fujairah if one traversed the correct road. This made his trip meter tick more, it was much more than imagined when he again decided to do some research on the roads in the emirates and he reached Fujairah when his meter showed an extra 300 kms.

We left Fujairah together after a tea, they had their lunch. When asked on what they saw, his friends family remarked that the roads in emirates are good. I realized that considering the distance they traversed the roads are the only thing they would have seen thro this eventful trip of theirs. We then left for Khor Fakkan which is around 25 kms from Fujairah. 10 minutes in the beach, a tea more and it was time to leave. We left for Abu Dhabi from there to drop the guests. I could by then because of the stress due to sitting on the seat continuously, feel blisters and sores forming on my skinny back. I was laughing inside thinking how that old woman is going to survive these many hurdles in a single day – the heat, the humidity and the stress due to travel. I was praying god that she reaches home as one piece.

By the time we reached Abu Dhabi it was 11p in the night and we felt like corpses but our man was still putting up a brave face. And now we started our last leg of our adventure, Abu Dhabi – Dubai. This leg is a fast paced one and is about 200 kms. We thought that would take a minimum of 2 hrs if we drove like maniacs. We did drive like maniacs effectively when Mr Benevolent recollected that the last time we took a leak was at Dubai at about 2p in the afternoon. It was about 10 hrs of continuous driving without even a stop for the pot. So we decided that we stop the vehicle for a leak. It was now that our man felt the pinch, he looked like a well stripped chicken dangling in an abattoir. He was worn out, for the first time he agreed, spoke what was, acknowledged that he was tired and he couldn’t drive. But he had no option but to drive and Dubai was still about 40 kms from there. We embarked again, it would have been when Mr. Benevolent realized there was no fuel in the tank, the vehicle was about to choke. This was our hero’s car which Mr. Benevolent was driving and he was supposed to have filled his tank.

For the first time ever in the last 3 months I could see Mr Benevolent visibly disappointed and upset. Now we had to check for a gas station before the vehicle stalled. I called the hero from my phone to appraise him about the status, he first blamed us for not looking at the gauge as we drove and then started giving us ideas as to how to delay the inevitable and by then the usually quiet and patient Mr Benevolent was pissed off, in case the vehicle stalled on the road it attracted a fine of about Dh. 200. And imagine a guy in the gulf region getting his car stalled because of no fuel in the tank. This would make you look like a barber in Tirupati back in India who doesn’t know how to tonsure heads. Fortunately for us we both didn’t loose our cool, we hadn’t still started cursing the hero but for the occasional crib. We finally managed to find a pump in Dubai, about 7 kms from our house. We hit the house in the next fifteen minutes, by then the hero had completed a 1205 km long ride within a span of 15 hours. Believe me it was 15 continuous hours of driving, without a break. Just the pure will to prove to people that he has a license and he could drive, drove our hero to accomplish the impossible. The fact that he even can’t walk for the next 2 –3 days notwithstanding.

Me a mere passenger in Mr Benevolent’s car felt more tired than anyone else (don’t know much about the old lady and the others in her family). Mr Benevolent too was tired, obviously he has to be, for he was my driver and he drove a continuous 10 hrs for about
600 and odd kilometers. I wouldn’t want to repeat this, my having embarked on this kind of a mad driving around would added in my books as one of the gravest errors I have ever made in my life.

This definitely is what driving around shouldn’t be. God don’t make me do that ever. Even ones worst enemy shouldn’t undergo this kind of a self imposed ordeal.

Taking care of my dubious reputation

Well… for those who have been wondering what RajaB broke after his advent to Dubai, there is a good news…

Yes… I managed to break my nose today… not a doctor worthy injury but bleeding & bloody painful.

“How did you manage to RajaB?” would be the next natural question…

I went down for my breakfast here at the media city cafeteria and after taking what I wanted, I along with a good friend of mine walked towards the door with my usual flamboyance. I remember discussing about the state of my personal finances with Vinay and I heard a thud. The next moment I felt like a swatted fly, struck on a glass door… Yes I had just tried the impossible, to walk through a glass door. The next moment when I got back from my swatted stupor I checked two things…

1. How many people around me are watching me with a wry smile?
2. Did I manage to break the glass door?

Well the answers for the questions now… I realized that the cafeteria was flooded with enough people for this spectacle to become a folklore in the media city, leave alone Dubai city for now.

And I did not manage to break the door. It was strong enough to withstand the impact, the one thing left behind was my nose shaped blood spot… great shot it would have been had I had a camera…

But nothing to worry as the bleeding has stopped but my nose looks slightly swollen and I have a heavy head due to the impact and this should be okay in the next hour…

Well, that announces the arrival of Samuel L Jackson in Dubai… It should be good business for the hospitals in Dubai from now on… God bless

Thinking of 10 reasons to be or not to be in Dubai...

Ten reasons why one should come and work in Dubai

1. Monies: You get paid at least 3 – 4 times what you normally get paid in India. Those abnormal IIT, IIM types please excuse.
2. Lifestyle: It definitely is better compared to what I used to live like in Chennai. This might be a little different depending on perceptions on individuals and their outlook towards life… But it is far better.
3. Good women: If you have an eye for women, this is the place to be… All nationalities and types… Filipinos are found in abundance, Russians, Lebanese and Syrians…. What not, its fun for the single men and the unfaithful… heartburn for people like me… And for the women, you have got some fabulous looking Greek men and of course me, RajaB.
4. Fast cars: If you are the one who likes those colourful fast cars, this is the place to be… Ferraris, Lamborghini’s to our own Scorpio every thing is available. The permitted speed limit is on an average between 80 – 120 Kmph… Speeding more than that, Insha Allah you will not be caught by the camera…
5. Food: You get to taste the greatest range of world cuisine possible… From Chettinad to Italian, Lebanese to Pakistani, Kerala to Turkey name it you’ve got it here…
6. Less of Pollution: No smoke, smog etc. as seen in Delhi, Mumbai or Chennai… But you should be prepared for the occasional sand storm which doesn’t affect your life greatly if you are going to live in mainland Dubai. The city is clean and you pay fines if you are found littering (but still people from the subcontinent manage to do it and feel proud that they have fooled the police!!)
7. Amazing shopping malls: Obscene number of shopping malls gives you a plenty of choice while you shop. This huge numbers of mall presence also ensures you have some great deal/offer running thro’ the year at some mall in the town, not forgetting the Dubai Shopping Festival, the Summer Surprises, Gitex – A computer exhibition and a host of other festivals round the year… And the highlight of Dubai, exclusive mall for gold – The Gold Souk…
8. Presence of multinational companies: Almost all the multinational companies and brands are present here in Dubai… So you have a wide range to choose from be it a packet of Kraft cheese for your kitchen or a Hansgrohe for your bathroom… You could also hop jobs from one multinational to other provided you are in Dubai Media City or any other free zone, otherwise your employer could ban you from entering Dubai for 6 months if he finds you are going to hop.
9. Nightlife: Dubai has a great nightlife. Evenings start only by 10p and 4am is night for Dubai. Fabulous clubs and pubs clubbed with amazing beauties from all across the globe, what more would you want… Once you experience Dubai’s nightlife you would wonder if this place is ruled by Sheik St. Peter.
10. Water, Electricity and other amenities: People think water is a rarity in Dubai or at least I have heard horror stories about how difficult it is to fetch water here… I have been told a “Thirsty Sheikh” story during childhood, where the Sheikh unable to find water to quench his thirst kills his camel removes its water bag and drinks from there eeks… But I have after I came here bath for 20 continuous minutes twice a day… Ditto the case of other amenities including electricity etc.

Ten reasons why you should not come and work in Dubai

1. The heat: Dubai, they say is not that too hot. But believe me that is meant for the camels and probably it is justifies if a camel from Dubai tells this story to a camel from India… In my opinion this is a little too hot a place for humans to live and that too from a country like India (I still don’t know how the Russians & Canadians here manage!!). Temperature here is on an average about 48 degrees during summer and the humidity is pitched at more than 85%. Even the AC’s at your home, transport, office and everywhere could only save you to a certain extent.
2. You miss your home: Yes I’m feeling the pinch… It is pretty difficult leaving your whole family down in India and living alone here and that too if you have a wife 7+ months pregnant it makes life all the more difficult and unexplainably tough to deal with…
3. Cost of overseas calls: The ISD calls are a little too above the reach of an average man… And that too if it is India you are calling it is very expensive and that is my personal experience. Talking about calls I have a friend for whom Etisalat the local mobile service provider is thinking of appointing a dedicated customer care resource. Believe me this gentleman makes calls worth Dh. 250, which is Rs. 3000 every two days to his fiancé in India… And I bust-up about half that calling my pregnant wife… Which effectively means that you end up spending a few hundred bucks more than your salaries on phone cards every month, thanks to my Citicard I’m surviving.
4. The cost of living: It is a way too expensive… I bought a pair of shoes for Dh. 300 which equals to Rs. 3,600 and believe me that was the most inexpensive of the lot that was available for me….
5. The middle managers crisis: If you are a mid level manager and you have a plan to make it big in the Dubai scene someday, you cut part of the entertainment and live a quiet life. This over a period of time makes you function like a robot, get up have a bath, catch a bus to office, work, work work, eat your lunch, work, work, work, take a bus back home, have a bath, watch some TV – primarily the free to air channels to save the extra buck, have a drink while you watch TV, have dinner at some cheap Indian joint, go to bed… And ditto the next day and the saga continues ever after till you grow big in the corporate ladder.
6. The traffic: It a little too congested… This is primarily due to the fact that every other man owns a car and if you are a local then a 4-wheel drive is a must as part of your identity. This makes traveling between two points a picnic, yes a picnic full of traffic snarls…
7. Accidents on road: Due to the maddening speed at which these 4 wheeled monsters travel on road there are many accidents that happen. While there is 95% probability that these are not fatal, this leads to traffic jams and congestion. Mornings and evenings when people get into and get out of offices is when the cars look for their mate, and some times it is group orgy of about 4-5 cars piled up.
8. The real estate: Renting a house in mainland Dubai these days gives one a Sheikh status… Yes it is very expensive and only locals and a select group of high earning executives (in Dubai standards) get to live in the heart of Dubai. Rest of us aam junta have to either find a dingy studio apartment or move to Sharjah or some other emirate…
9. The no nonsense approach of the police and bureaucracy: You can’t bribe them you can’t jump the queue and no favoritism or the VIP approach. Indians, especially the ones who have tasted this would find it very difficult to digest this attitude. Now I know where and how “Sare jahan se achaa, Hindustan hamara!!”
10. The women again: If you have a weakness for women, then this is not the place where you should be. “All nationalities available at a very competitive price” looks like a slogan or something? But that is the reality. So better not be here if you have a sweet spot for those sweet woman else you would go back to your country with lots of fond memories and an empty budget in hand…

Are they still riding camel tops??

It is quite sometime since I put pen on paper or rather fingers on keyboard. One way it gives me great pleasure coming back to my olden ways, writing about some stuff.

Well having said that, it has been about a month or two since I came here to the United Arab Emirates. I have been fascinated by the way this country looks, the people, their attitude, the music, fast cars, super mega malls, good looking women of all nationalities, escalator for walking… hey what do they call it propellator or something because it propels you forward?

It has been a fantastic experience. And not forgetting about the place I work, fabulous place with some great people, really helpful and wonderful. But the one thing which fascinated me more than anything else is the road sense or civic sense of the people out here… there still are some Mallu, Tamil, Paki brethren who play spoilsports, would talk about this unique gang later…

Now talking about the road sense…

Rule one – The pedestrian is king, this doesn’t mean that this country is full of jaywalkers like what we find opposite Spencer plaza in Chennai. Everyone knows his limits and entitlements and does things accordingly. Leave alone the three distinct species of human race mentioned earlier.

Rule two – Follow strict lane discipline, else get fined. Heavily sometimes. Forget about the three distinct species mentioned.

Rule three – Ran out of petrol in the middle of a busy road pay a hefty fine. The distinct species not spared here, a rule is a rule… The rule of Sheik Hamdan (yes… he’s the king of Dubai)

Rule four – Not driving fast enough??? Which is doing a cool 30 Kmph when you are supposed to cruise at 100… get honked off by fellow drivers and sometimes you get fined by the traffic cops.

The list would go on and on if I started elaborating on each of these… Now for the best practice, about accidents. Which actually are a plenty here because of the traffic and the way it moves…

You banged on another car??

Check on two things first… How huge was the impact?? Injuries to you, the other guy and to the cars… Next check if both the cars could be moved off road as to not obstruct the traffic. If they could be moved, first move them off. Else you would have to ask your company to transfer your salaries next month directly to the police department account… yes you would pay a hefty fine for obstructing the traffic.

Now call the police and wait for them… there absolutely are no fights between the parties involved, no arguments as to who was right and who was wrong… I would illustrate a typical accident scene here…

My friend Krish whom I consider one of the safest drivers in town and me were going down the Sheikh Zayed road one of the most busy thoroughfares in Dubai. As we took a right turn one Mallu friend overshot his lane came into ours, we swerved to left to avoid kissing his car. In turn we hit a brand new car to our left driven by an young local. It was our mistake we couldn’t have done that. The best we could have done was to have allowed the Mallu’s car hit us and then blame it on him because he overshot his limits. We didn’t do that and therefore the fault was ours, we thought.

And now for the action…

The guy gets down to survey the damage… A deep dent and three scratches for him and two in our car. Looks at us gives an apologetic smile, I asked Krish “is he feeling sorry about what he did or is he trying to say I’m sorry you need to pay up for this?”. A moment after this the guy suggests that we move the cars ahead to a safer place as we wait for the police… We take off first and he follows, travel roughly a kilometer before we find a parking. As we were waiting for the police the guy comes to us says “Do you have full insurance?” We say yes… He says “I have called the police they should be here anytime, they said they are round the corner”.

Now the police comes in… two bearded gentlemen… one old and another middle aged… “Whose fault?” says the policeman. “It is ours” Krish… Police man surveys the damage… “Give me your licence and the vehicles registration”, he takes the paper from both the parties. Fills in a form, draws a diagram as to how the accident would have happened, signs it, asks us to sign it, gives the red copy to us, the green to the other guy and says “No fine for you this time because of the circumstance, but please be careful… Saalam Alaikum” and he is gone…

And now for the guy who got hit “Sorry for keeping you waiting and thanks for the cooperation…. Saalam Alaikum” and this guy is also gone.

Now I ask Krish ‘Aren’t we supposed to leave the vehicles as is, meaning as the collided and leave it as evidence for the police and wait for them to arrive? Aren’t we guys supposed to fight with the other one on whose fault it was? Aren’t the policemen supposed to seize the vehicle take it to the station and demand some bribes? At least the policemen are supposed to be rude right?”

Krish had a simple answer “This is Dubai”

Yes, this is Dubai and I’m starting to like this place and this life…

Raja takes a BREAK…

Since my childhood there has not been a quarter I had been with out a break. This said some might think I am someone who follows the westerner’s calendar of working for 90 days and taking a break off work for say 10 days. But that is not the break I am talking about, I am speaking of breaking bones, body parts and even breaking down physically.

Friends of mine say my biological clock decides when to take this BREAK and promptly BREAKS something down. By doing this blog I started recollecting instances of all the breaks I have had till date. Typhoid, jaundice, malaria, broken bones in hand – right and left, legs – right and left, chin – right and left, eyebrow – right and left… pretty difficult to count. So I decided to count the number of instances of break downs since I joined Ogilvy – that was roughly two and a half years ago.

Three months after I joined Ogilvy, it was a cool Sunday when I had to visit my friend’s dad at a city hospital in Chennai. I was coming back with my friend’s brother in the pillion when these two guys on a Yamaha RX100 rammed to the right of my vehicle. They in fact rammed right into my right leg. The impact broke my little toe. The impact was so severe that my little toe was left hanging in the air with little support from my leg. I had a successful surgery to put the toe back in place. When one of my good friends Shyam asked me about my regaining complete consciousness in my little toe, which the doctor had said I would not. The toe would just be a vestige henceforth. I told Shyam “I don’t need my little toe to say/show up yours”. It took 4 months to heal.

By then I was ready for my next bout. This time I played a cricket match for Ogilvy, opened the innings broke my left wrist. This time it was not a complete fracture, just a small crack said the doctor. This one would take 15 days to a month by then I had another family doctor – this time unusually it was an orthopedist. By now he had become too friendly with me to qualify as my family doctor. "An orthto for a family doctor, not bad" remarked my friends. It hardly healed when it was my next turn.

And now it was time for a complete overhaul, the total breakdown. Yes I had malaria this time and this is the second time in 2 years I had malaria. I have heard of the creative personnel in my office remarking that I am just a parasite a malarial parasite. I had to tell them all, sorry folks I am just a victim. Lots of tablets of varying sizes and colour and a month of abstinence from my favourite liquid diets got me back to normal.

I was a normal man for 5 months, people around me were very happy for me. After a long, long time I was accident free. But the happiness lasted till I sped like jet into the office one fine morning, suddenly saw one of my coworkers taking a turn. To avoid this gent I tried breaking my speed. All I could remember after this was a broken chin, which needed 6 stitches to pull back. Alas cried the whole office, Raja’s back to normal. He is back to his olden ways.

Just three months later, three days ago. I decided to slip down a stair, twist my foot and break a bone. Thank god, for a change it is my left foot now. It should take 10 days to heal. The first question my friends asked me when I reached office after this incident was, Raja what next??

When I look at myself in the mirror I am remembered of Samuel L Jackson in the movie Unbreakable…

Am I the unbreakable whom Samuel Jackson played in that movie?

God knows…

Get me baby one more time...

Again… It has happened!! Not quite unexpected of me, but given the fact that I was comfortably cuddled in the conference rooms of Ogilvy made some think I have arrived in life. “Raja will not move any more”, said one. “Raja will retire from O&M”, said another. In fact if I look back and think about the last 2 years I’ve been in advertising it makes me think, “Those were the best days of my life”.

But, as the wise would think and say, “The best is yet to come”, hopefully, it’s this time!

I was rather sad scripting my resignation letter. This time my hands trembled, I was not able to make the right contact with the keyboard to type bye bye out, unusual… quite unusual for someone who scripted this same damn shit 6 times before this one time. I still feel sad for having to leave this place, I actually had to promise myself and to my peers here like Arnie says in Terminator “I’ll be back”. Yes I would want to come back here sometime, I was proud to be an “Ogilvite”.

The place I’m moving… Yeah as every one of us know by now that I am moving to Dubai. I am joining a direct marketing & CRM agency there. My poor wife would be left back here till December… Yes that is when she would join me post her giving birth to our junior in September. I don’t know if I would find a Triplicane in Dubai, complete with a CNK Road and an Everymans Mansion. It would be great fun if I do find something like that, till December.

So guys the single-minded proposition is “I have quit Ogilvy, I’m moving on…”

Jaggu Da Ki Amar Kahani – Brother Jaggu’s eternal story

The protagonist of this story is the great Jagmohan Dalmia, the all-powerful figurehead of Indian cricket.

When Zee went to court on the telecast issue, Jaggu Da’s lawyers said the board couldn’t be controlled by the Indian constitution. It was and autonomous, independent body which had its own constitution and laws. This effectively means that the scoreboards we see during cricket matches should read “BCCI” and not India. We the people should cheer not for India but for the BCCI team. Lots of people discussed this issue, some shouted, some called this shame on the countries cricket fans but Mr. Dalmia did not budge. Cut to the scene now… he has won the case against Zee hands down. Shrewd is not the word to describe Jaggu Da.

Now Jaggu has a different issue in hand. Phoren or local, coach or Pehelwan is the question. Yes everyone agrees that Jaggu should have toyed these options some 6 months ago when good old John called his parting shot. But Jaggu was entangled in the legal wrangle over the control of the board, the telecast issues etc.

Now on the Phoren ki pehelwan issue… First 2 phorigners and 2 pehelwan’s are short-listed. Then one pehelwan decides he is not fit to get into the ring. He backs out citing his commitments. Didn’t he know about his commitments before he came into the fray? Didn’t the board of Jaggu know he is a very committed human before they spelt his name to the media? Jaggu da is the only fit person in mother earth who could answer these questions. A high level committee has been constituted for finding the coach but at the end of the day it would be Jaggu da’s call no matter how high a level the committee is in.

These are just samples of what Jaggu Da is. At the end of the day, we like fools would keep on jabber walking about the coach issue and when a guy is appointed we would all again cheer for team India not knowing or rather forgetting the fact that it is the boards team and not a team chosen by the government of India which plays cricket.

Not long ago our newspapers in page 3 were talking about the Casting Couch controversy. This time around they would call it the Jaggu Da’s Casting Coach controversy and we Indians would happily be reading it and debating about this for time unknown.

Long Live Jaggu Da… Long live Indian cricket…

Gaja Bhai Calling

After 2 and something years of association with Ogilvy I’ve decided to hang my big Ogilvy boots and get to Gaja’s own county. The prime motive being quick bucks. I am joining a place called Jacobson’s Direct, a direct marketing agency there in Dubai. While I would continue the Civic Exnora/ Onyx job I have been doing here, it would be a different environment, different set of people etc.

Simply said "Same Kuppai, different Kuppai Thotti"

While I seriously don’t know when the shift would happen, I’m sure this would happen in the next couple of weeks. I would have to in the next couple of week stitch my Dubai dress with the cycle tyre rolled on the headdress thing. Do shopping for other stuff including the saddle for my vehicle oops! sorry, camel.

Now the silverlining: In some time I would also become a phoren return case…

Hope I shed that “case” on me and be a normal human being.