Good Friday 1982 !!

I started this post last Good Friday, 19^th April, and finally managed to complete it now!

Every year, on Good Friday, Jayanthi and I recollect the historic event of that day  and have a hearty laugh !

That Good Friday in the year 1982 was the day we both met each other for the first time .

And if you expect that to be a wonderful romantic day  , forget it!!

Sadly, there was was nothing remotely exciting or romantic about it at all !

For a starter,

Jayanthi did not drop her load of books, and I did not kneel down to pick them up…

And I did not look up at her face, and she did not look down into my eyes..

And Cupid did not fire all his arrows in  a frenzy ..

Nothing of that sort ever happened  that day.

And,

Nor did my hiking backpack (with 5 pouches and equal number of buckles and sashes ) get entangled with Jayanthi’s bulky handbag ( with half a dozen zips and equal number of fancy tassels ) as we struggle to take them out of the overhead cabin baggage compartment.

Nor did Cupid play his match making trick  by putting our check-in baggage at the very end of the line so that only the two of us  waited patiently at the baggage claim carousel.

Nor did we strike up a conversation,

Nor did sparks fly and nor did it create a roaring flame of love !!

Sorry, None of that happened !!

And neither did any of those 100 +1  romantic scenes that you always see in a Hindi or a Tamil movie when the boy meet the girl for the first time!!

Our love story was not scripted by any of those famous Bollywood bigwigs.

And if you still want to know what happened on that day that year, you have to read thru this entire blog !! No short cuts !!

November, 1981. My second sister got married.

And dad and mom  breathed a big sigh of relief -two daughters married off, and just one more to go. And they were not bothered about  me at all. You see my  marriage would not result in another negative cash flow !

Come February, 1982, my parents discovered I was very friendly with a girl in my office . She had visited our house a couple of times and they knew her.

But she was not from a South Indian Iyengar family.

We enjoyed a strong friendship that was born out of mutual trust and respect for each other, and ofcourse, two years of working together in the same office. We shared our workload whenever possible and helped each other out when our bosses gave us tight deadlines..

And many times when we worked late, I would drop her off at her home.  And it was only during those times when we talked anything personal or shared notes on our families.

And we exchanged gifts – I would give her home-made sweets and chocolates on Diwali and on her birthdays;  and she would give me Easter eggs, Marzipan and Plum cakes on Easter and Christmas !

And I would buy her trinkets and chocolates  and perfumes during my frequent travels.

And one such time I bought her a bunch of bright Gold and Silver painted wood roses from Kaveri Emporium, Bangalore.

And my dad got concerned (mighty worried is a better expression) .

And while he could convincingly argue that there is nothing wrong in a South Indian brahmin girl marrying a Punjabi boy, or a Bengali or a Christian boy for that matter, when it came to his own son, it was ‘family values and duty towards our religion &  faith‘ that could never be compromised !!

And so he went into an   overdrive – to find a suitable South Indian brahmin girl for me and get me married off before I could get any serious ideas.

In 1982, there was no bharatmartrimony.com or Shaadi.com. All matchmaking was done thru a network of relatives and Vaadiyaars (Priests) and Parijaarans (cooks). In the North it was the local Nayee  (barber) who specialized in this activity. The only other option was  “Brides wanted” section in The Hindu. 

Soon a barrage  of envelopes with corners tipped with turmeric paste started filling our mail box each day. And for the next few Saturdays  Dad and mom paid regular visits to the astrologer in Matunga Circle in Mumbai, matching horoscopes and shortlisting prospective options. 

And they finalized on 4 ‘eligible candidates’ from Chennai.  

Four perfectly matched horoscopes !!

And very soon I found myself travelling by Madras Mail to Chennai along with Dad and Mom.

Day 1:  Arrive in Chennai. Rest a bit. Have bath, Eat and freshen up for the first prospective girl’s house.

Pile into the old beaten second hand Standard- Herald car that my Brother in law had. With  dad in front and  me squeezed between my mom and my sis in the back seat.

And soon we driving back home.

‘Will not be suitable for our Krish’ – dad said finally. Very thin and looks anorexic was his assessment.  Mom agreed and my sis and BIL nodded in agreement. And I am sure the girl’s side would also have found something unacceptable about me as well.

Was I consulted ?  No way !!

One down , three to go . And I was hopeful.

Day 2 - Second girl : Tall and very smart looking. Instead of making a grand appearance in a traditional silk saree  and other paraphernalia, she wore a plain but  elegant chiffon saree. And she just walked up along with her dad to the entrance and greeted us in and introduced herself. And she struck up a good conversation with all of us.

I thought that was very cool !

But to my parents – that was  not cool at all.

And did they ask my opinion?  No way !!

And so went the other two prospects as well.

Last day and we had to catch our train at 10 PM in the night .

Dad an mom got desperate and went thru the pile of left over horoscopes and came up with one that was not a perfect match and our astrologer had not recommended. However my BIL phoned the family and got us invited .

And at 2 PM, we were at the girl’s place.

A huge hall filled with people everywhere !

There was the girl’s dad, mom and her two elder brothers.  And her uncle and his wife and his daughters and their husbands.  And another uncle and his family and her grand mom too.

Only five us from  our side,  we were totally outnumbered by this show of strength.

I sat in one corner of the large hall and Jayanthi sat diagonally opposite some 25 - 30 feet away flanked by her brother and her uncle . 

And everybody was talking, identifying common friends, relatives and native places etc.

Suddenly a large silver tumbler with piping hot coffee was thrust into my hands. (I am used to sipping coffee gently from a large ceramic mug with a big handle).  So the rest of my entire time was spent in gingerly holding the tumbler by it rim, furiously blowing into the coffee and carefully managing to pour a few drops every now and then into my mouth from a height of 2 inches. 

And by the time I finished my coffee, the meeting was over and we were saying good byes.

We did not even see  each other properly and obviously never got a chance to talk either.

And interestingly as I was  walking back to our car ..

“ Pillai ku kaal seria irukka paaru da, Kanna “  her grand mom  whispered to her dad. ( my mom walked with a pronounced limp, and  she thought that  could be genetic.  Smart thinking, old girl !!)

And while we were driving home dad and mom were talking about fixing the marriage date !

Was I consulted ?? No way !

And that was it !

It was 25 minutes in a large room packed with people and the two of us sitting 25 feet apart.

And our fate was sealed, then and there !

And the next time we met, we were sitting together, in front of a very smoky fire at our marriage ceremony early morning at 4.30 AM !

And it has been 37 years since that day and we are still going strong – in spite of all the mismatches in our horoscopes !

Krish..

Infant Jesus Church, Vivek Nagar

I often go the Infant Jesus Church in Vivek Nagar, Bangalore .

Infant Jesus Shrine

For 2 reasons :-

1)  I like the environment – Calm, serene and peaceful, open and spacious frontage . Huge underground parking lot, No crowd except on Thursdays and Sundays. Widely spaced benches to sit on .  Large, well lit and airy hall which is cool in summers.

Unlike the  somewhat crowded and stuffy environment inside most of the  popular south Indian temples .

2)  I like the convenience – I can enter the church and walk right up to the Altar without removing my shoes and socks !  And I can sit on the comfortable benches (pews), kneel on the smooth wooden plank below (kneelers) , rest my hands in front and recite my prayers.

Unlike the temples where I would have to remove my S & S , wash my hands and feet, cautiously walk over hard stone & prickly surface and negotiate the various water / oil spills and the mashed prasad ( prasadam ) patches on the floor !!

I buy a large bunch of candles from the deaf and dumb man (I need to get his name) each time, light them one by one , counting off the many groups of people on whose behalf I offer each candle – starting with myself, my family, my relatives , my close friends, all my bosses , my colleagues in Bgl, Mumbai office , my colleagues in Gurgaon office , my other old colleagues and friends in the various communities I have lived & abroad and elsewhere ! In fact – My Sarva Kutumba – my entire global family !!

Then I walk up to the front, look up at the Infant Jesus’ radiant face , close my eyes and picture him in my memory, walk around the small statue , put my offerings into the bin and walk back to the benches and sit down. And then kneel and say my prayers. And sit peacefully and soak in the peace and calmness of the environment.

Many a time I have tried to ask for favors – like … please help me meet my budget numbers , help me make a great plan / presentation , help me get over my persistent cold soon etc, etc .. But I never manage to get enough seriousness and focus into such pleas and then they all invariably end up at the common denominator – please give me good health & good sensibility . I am happy , so please maintain my current level of happiness and nothing more , O God !

Not very ambitious – but then I do not lack anything in particular and I have no reasons to complain.

And after some time I move from the Infant Jesus shrine to the main church hall – a vast circular hall without any pillars to obstruct your view of the Altar. 

Some days  I am in time for the  late morning mass in Tamil and I enjoy the songs sung by the chorus.  Great music and melodious.

Some days I get to observe a wedding in progress. The young bride and groom (and most of them appear to be in their early twenties) standing smartly before the priest as he performs the rituals and gives his sermon in chaste Tamil (Senthamizh) . He then reads a couple of passages from the holy Bible. And the choir of 5 women, all dressed in bright colored sarees sing wonderfully  to the tune of the Organ music ( I think it is the Keyboard playing) booming thru the speaker clusters overhead.  And then the long line for the holy communion.

I  sit in a corner watching all this, the simplicity of this short & quiet wedding and silently bless the couple with a good and healthy life together filled with joy and happiness.

Last week, after my usual routine I sat back on a bench and observed the stream of devotees ..

And here is what I saw in the Infant Jesus Shrine …

A young couple came in – obviously Christians  from their actions and attire . They lit 2 candles murmured a short prayer, briskly walked up to the altar, quickly kissed the feet to infant Jesus statue , put an offering and walked out !

And old woman , pain reflecting on her face , slowly knelt in front of the statue , arms spread out wide, eyes closed , prayed for some time . She got up, hugged the statue, took off one of the garlands and slowly trudged out !

Many more came in - some keeled , prayed silently , some collected a few candles, others touched the feet / kissed the feet , hugged Infant Jesus statue, mentally asked for favors and left .

And I could well imagine their feelings and the pain and sufferings of some of those people. And I felt extremely sober and humbled!

And I felt very blessed that God has given me so much more than these folks. And there was absolutely no reason for me not to be happy and cheerful every day.

And then ..

A young lady walked in . In a bright mauve colored saree with a matching top .
No Christian definitely - observing the red bindi on her forehead and the faint streak of vibhuti ( sacred ash ) above it .
She quickly took of her sandals , pushed it to a corner , knelt in front of the statue , did a perfect south Indian Hindu style pranaan ( 3 times ) , then walked up to Infant Jesus, touched his feet with her right hand and then passed it over her head , stood near the statue and prayed .

Wonder how she prayed ?? – may be the English prayer we all learn at our Christian missionary school or the common Sanskrit shlokas we all learn at our homes !!

Then she picked up a short strand of flower , put some money into the bin, walked past me , slipped on her sandals and left !!

And I watched her all along..

Very amused at first and then thought over what she had done very seriously!

This lady had behaved and acted exactly the same way as she would normally do in any Ganesha temple or  in the  Chamundeshwari temple in CT Street!  

To her God meant the same person and there was only one way to worship and offer her prayers – the one she had been taught from her childhood..

And as I was reflecting on this incident some more time, I went into  a silent introspection.

Is Infant Jesus any different from all the other gods I worship ?
Is this church any different than any of the other temple I visit as often ?

Then why do I behave so differently here ?

Why do I mutter ‘Our father who art in heaven…’ instead of the regular Sanskrit sholakas & hymns?

Why do I assume that Infant Jesus will not understand my prayers if I  recite them in Sanskrit?

And why do I so confidently walk up to the main altar here with my shoes on, when I can never imagine doing such an act in any temple or a gurudwara??

I sat for long , thinking  and questioning myself
And I got no answers!

And I am not sure what I will do next time I come here ..

Krish..

The Gillette always wins! My experiments with growing a beard.

An observant eye in Sobha Palladian commented:

I once saw Venki with a luxuriant beard

And now I see Venki without it

Sad, isn't it ??

The Gillette ultimately won after all!!

Venki = Our most popular and respected Chief of Sobha Palladian. He also double hats as the Secretary of the SPOA Management Committee.

At a dominating 54% global market share (which was at 70% in 2010) P&G’s Gillette is ruthless.

And Venki’s beard had no chance at all!

My experiments with growing a beard…

Ours is a very conservative middle class South Indian family .
And all men have been clean shaven – since generations ..
Probably ever since our early ancestors managed to chop off their beard with a well sharpened stone axe !
So, mustache, beard, french beard and even side-burns have been a taboo !

And to my grand dad, early morning shave was as serious a ritual as performing  his surya namaskaram and morning poojas.

While he took cold water bath, his shaving cup had to be filled with piping hot water.

And he would squat on the floor ceremoniously, a small stool in front held the mirror and the hot water and the dark brown & black haired brush with a wooden handle, Godrej shaving round  and a Gillette shaving razor and a pack of Wilkinson safety blades (7 O’ Clock and Topaz being the other brands). 

You turn the bottom end of the razor handle and the top opens up. And you carefully place the blade in between and close. You could also adjust the shaving angle by setting the calibrated band at the neck.

Grand dad would shave methodically, clean up all the spills with his Malayalam thundu (towel), wipe the edge of the blade carefully and wrap it back in its butter paper cover and then the main cover. He would then add a notch on the edge of the cover paper to record the number of shaves completed.

Once the life of the blade was over he would clean and wipe the blade again and then split into two and give it to us for sharpening our pencils!.

I am the only non conformist in our family and I demonstrated my lack of respect for such tradition right from the time a couple of hair strands started appearing on my chin…
A sad looking goatee in my teens, a healthier mustache in college and a smart beard during my post grad days amply demonstrated the rebellion in me.

However after taking up a serious job and getting married later on, all of this disappeared (including the rebellion part). 

A mustache though remained for a long time and at times it was luxuriant enough to challenge Graham Gooch, OBE ( the famous English cricketer ! )

And I tried many times to regrow a beard, over the past many years, but never could succeed. Too much family pressure and job related challenges guaranteed infant mortality to all my initiatives . Each time, my beard growth strategy survived between 15 days to max of 60 days before it got guillotined by the Gillette !!

You cannot imagine the pressure and the emotional blackmail that I go thru each time. And sadly I do not have a fair, handsome and ‘Raymond Man’ type of personality. So an unshaven cheek makes me look real dukhi (sickly). And sometimes I felt it too!

First week people look at you suspiciously.

Once after a weekend of growth, on a Monday morning, I walk in to the office and my boss thinks I have still not recovered from the TGIF hangover and suggests, “would you like to take the day off, Krish?”.

“No, thanks Ravi, I am trying to grow  a beard”, I answer.

My admin assistant is extra nice. She walks in with a cup of coffee for me and asks, “how are you feeling?” and I reply, “Perfect, Vandana! lets get down to business, shall we?”

At home, after a week of steady growth, my family cannot stand it any more.

After a few polite requests they declare war. The silent treatment, the banters, the sarcastic remarks, ‘ Today is jumma (Friday), aren't you going to the masjid??’, ‘Did you get that call from Dawood?’, and those off handed comments  and many subtle insults get heaped on me.

My grand mom is the worst affected and makes a desperate appeal . Krishna, this is all not right. We are not supposed to keep beard in our family, also we have old people at home and keeping a beard is inauspicious. It signifies a bereavement in our family (on such occasions pious Brahmans do not shave for 10 days until the final shradh).

And visitors and relatives are the worst.

Many even thought that I was recovering from some serious illness and offered sympathetic nod.

They would politely ask, “have your recovered ?” & “would you like to go back and rest”

One uncle from Chennai even ventured to diagnose my illness when  he asked “ Jaandissaaa??” (do you have Jaundice??)

Surviving the first 2 weeks is a challenge and life gets a little better after.

And I hit pay dirt once. This single act made all my miseries worthwhile. (pay dirt = unexpected bonanza, reward)

During one of my morning walks, I took one of the routes that pass by a busy bus stand. As I approached a group of early travelers, I noticed a distinguished looking old man in spotless white kurta, a white flowing beard and wearing an embroidered taqiyah ( Muslim cap ) . And I got nearer, our eyes met and he instantly pronounced “Salam Aleikum”. He had assumed I was one of Allah’s faithfuls too.
Pleasantly surprised, I returned back the greetings,  'As-Salaamu 'Alaykum wa Rahmatullah (Peace and Allâh's Mercy be on you).' and added ‘aapka safr acha guzare’ .

Ad that kept me high for a couple of days.

Until…

I had to make a trip to the US to present the India Initiative Plan to the Senior & Exec VPs.

And I chickened out.

And my Gillette had the last laugh!

The Gillette always wins!!

Krish..

The Mirage 2000H Tragedy

The Crash :

A Mirage 2000H (H for Hindustan) trainer jet crashed at HAL Airport in Bangalore on 1 Feb killing 2 young pilots - Squadron leaders Samir Abrol and Siddharth Negi . 

It was shocking and traumatic, especially for some of us folks in Sobha Palladian who heard the explosion as their  jet burst into flames. And many of us saw the leaping orange flames and the black billowing smoke  that continued to spread across the sky for over 20 minutes. And we saw two huge fire-engines  rush out of the HAL gates , helicopters hovering above and ambulances  screaming past our gates.

I could not sleep properly that night as I could not stop recollecting the days incidents and imagining what those two young pilot would have gone thru during those final moments of the crash.

And  all of the next day, I was sort of depressed and unsettled and sad – as if I had lost one of my dearest friends.

On the day of the crash, my WhatsApp as inundated with messages, photos and commentaries and comments on the crash. The TV and the on line media did their bit of comprehensive reporting. And I went thru them all, feeling sadder. 

The next day the papers covered the incident in more graphic details and quotes from ex servicemen  and the online media had added more footage of the crash. And I read these too and got sadder still.

During  my morning walk I could not enjoy my music and had to shut it off and walk in silence.

And I was in alignment with the  a huge sympathy wave for the two pilots and people expressed their grief and anguish at the sad demise and prayed for their souls and for their family as well. A tragic end to two brave hearts.

And along with this I also read the endless stream of accusations heaped on HAL for their shoddy jobs, their lack of accountability and for being an inefficient and callous organisation that has scant disregard for the air force pilots. And even the Air Chief Marshal B S  Dhanoa said "We have made concessions for HAL, but will the enemy make any concession for us when we face them in battle?"

And every one on the Whats app, Twitter and FB were unanimous!

HAL was the culprit and they passed the judgement –

HAL were solely responsible for this crash and the untimely death of two brave hearts Sqd Leader Abrol and Sqd Leader Negi.

Two days later everything was back to normal. And people went back to sharing and forwarding unwanted messages, pictures and videos &  jokes on their WhatsApp.

And I wondered, is that all ?? 

As self righteous citizens we concluded that have done our bit.

We expressed outrage over the crash.

We praised and prayed for the two dead plots. We used wonderful words , called them heroes & martyrs etc.

We showered sympathy on their families

We identified & pointed out the villain, HAL.

And we accused and passed our collective judgement on HAL !

And after our job well done, we moved on.

And we left the rest of  the inquiry and investigation to the concerned authorities and went about our business as usual.

Ashtey!

And I wondered , is that all ??

To me, even after so many days, life is not as usual.  Every time I walk by the HAL boundary wall  to buy at Capitol hyper-market, or hear the roar of the revving engines and the fighter jets taking off and landing after their sorties, I feel an uneasy sensation in my spine. So what do I do ??

Sadly, I am not a hot shot investigative reporter who could snoop around, talk to people and catch them off guard and dig up the dirt and come up with a front page expose nailing the culprits.

Nor am I a crusader, fighting for justice for the two bereaved families, filing PILs and RTIs and leading dharnas.

So in my limited capacity I went thru all the info available on the net, on the DefenceNews sites on the Mirage2000 deal.

And I actually came up with more questions than answers !!

Whose fault is it anyway ?

25 years ago, I headed the support division of an IT company that manufactured and sold hardware & software products  and delivered hardware devices and software support. And with a fine-tuned spare parts  inventory management and logistics  operation, a remote diagnostics team, and on-site hardware and software specialists we managed to deliver premium services guaranteeing 99% up-time on large computer installations, mainframes, network infrastructure and high end workstations installed country wide.

And I learnt the basics of support delivery and fault diagnosis. We would analyse tons of data on incidents of failure and draw the famous Pareto Charts !

And I concluded that causes for breakdowns can be broadly classified under 3 categories – faulty product, faulty people, faulty processes and a combination of these..

Faulty Product??

  

Was the crash caused due to substandard component/assembly supplied by the OEMs?

Or was it due to these assemblies/components getting worn out much before their rated flying lifetime. Or any other similar reasons related to the aircraft itself (its age and end of life)??

Faulty People?? 

Was the crash caused due to the faulty workmanship by the HAL staff – carelessness or improper training or whatever? Or was it the Pilots’ error??

Faulty Processes?? 

Was the crash caused due to faulty repair and QC and certification processes?? How could the QC team clear this craft for a flight if it had a such a major fault that could lead to a fatal crash? Or how could the HAL’s own test pilots fly  2 sorties in this same aircraft and not be able to detect or predict such a major fault that could lead to a fatal crash??

And remember,

One two-seat trainer crashed on 25 February 2012.

Another two-seater crashed on 5 March 2012.^[38] 

And the people in the Air force and HAL did not learn enough to prevent another similar disaster.

Sadly on 1 February 2019, a third two-seat trainer crashed and killed two pilots. A colossal waste of Rs 300+ Crores and two precious lives!

Act of God??

There are many times when certain incidents just defy logical reasoning.

1 Feb Friday 10.30 AM to 12 noon was Rahukalam!!

Rahukaalam or the period of Rahu is a certain period of time every day that is considered inauspicious for any new venture according to Indian Vedic astrology . – Wiki.

And I am sure any ‘Jyotishi’ (astrologer) worth his salt would be able to backtrack the events, read the horoscopes of the two pilots and match it with the stellar configuration at the time of take off and declare that this had to happen!

And he would have pronounced: It was a bad muhurat for them– a yamagandam. And if the pilots  had  pre-poned their take off by 15 min, the disaster could have been avoided .

So whose fault is it anyway??

The Product: Miarge 2000H:

The Dassault Mirage 2000 is a French multi role, single-engine fourth-generation jet fighter manufactured by Dassault  Aviation. It was designed in the late 1970s as a lightweight fighter to replace the Mirage III for the French Air Force(Armée de l'Air). 

A total of 601 crafts were made during its lifetime production from 1978 to 2007.

India purchased around 50 of these at Rs 133 Crores apiece.

The last 10 were delivered in 2007. 

This was the last batch of  Mirage2000s before the  production line was closed down!

Question: Why would any responsible person  buy such a hi-tech and expensive hardware in its end of life period??

And within 5 years, why would anyone sign up an upgrade deal for these at Rs 167 crores a piece (original cost 133 crores!)?

Chk it out on TOI March 5, 2013  news clip.
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/18804336.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=cppst

More questions later…

Krish..

The Governor & The Mogul

I grew up reading Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and Secret Sevens & Malory Towers. And Edgar Rice Burrough’s Tarzan series. And Biggles and World War II comics. 

And Chandmama, Champak and Chacha Choudhury and Vikram aur Betaal series.

And Suppandi and Tenali Raman and tons of Indrajal Comics & ACKs ( Amar Chitra Katha).

And at home we subscribed to Illustrated Weekly of India, Junior Statesman, Reader’s Digest and we borrowed Sports Star & Sports Week from neighbors. And we also peeked into Mom’s Femina  and Eve’s Weekly.  

And I also read a couple of Denise Robins and Danielle Steel mushy love stories from my sisters’ collection.

When we went for a haircut we read the Screen and the Stardust while we waited our turns.

And on Sunday Indian Express (Sunday Standard) we read comic strips -  Bringing up Father, Phantom, Calamity Jane and Sad Sack and Dennis the Menace and Lone Ranger– while dad and mom focused on the cryptic crossword.

Our cupboards were stacked with piles of dogeared second hand Nation Geographics, Spectrum, Scientific American and Archies Digest.

And slowly we graduated into reading Perry Mason, Agatha Christie, James Hadley Chase. And the all time favorite James Bond series by Ian Fleming!!

And then Sidney Sheldon  and Alistair MacLean and Leon Uris (remember Mila 18?) and James Clavell (Shogun??).  PG Wodehouse and Tom Sharpe came later.

And we swung to western novels – Sudden by Oliver Strange, Louis L’amour and Zane Grey and JT Edson and Max Brand.

And along the way came Somerset Maugham, Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca and the classics – HG Wells, Jules Verne, Thomas Hardy, Bronte sisters and many many more.

And some Sci-fi from Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov.

And we eagerly lapped up every new issue of Gladrags that hit the stands. Remember the glossy full pages and centre spreads of Lisa Ray in her (skimpy) bikini?? And later graduated to Cosmopolitan. And I will leave some other magazines in this genre to your experience & imagination.

And we learnt about the complexities in Chiristianity from Dan Browne series. And court trials from John Grisham, medical thrillers by Robin cook, on horses by Dick Francis.

And Mario Puzo, Michael Chricton and Tom Clancy and Jeffery Arthur, Lee Child, Ayn Rand and more and more. And I seriously avoided the likes of Fritjof Capra and Milan Kundera and Edgar Allan Poe.

But sadly, I did not read many Indian authors.

In my younger days I remember reading only Khushwant Singh and RK Laxman and a few English translaton of Indian stories. And later, Ruskin Bond who I thought was English.

I liked Khushwant Singh – his stories, his writing style, his bawdy  jokes, his attitude and the unadulterated vulgarity in some of his writings!!!

Somehow other Indian authors missed my radar for  a long time.

And much later I read the Inscrutable Americans, Once upon a Raj, and other Indian Authors including Chetan Bhagat, Shobhaa De, Arundhati Roy, Devdutt Pattanaik and Ashok Banker.

And I got seriously sold on Indian authors after I read Meluha and the trilogy by Amish Tripathi.  A few more wonderful books followed – Asura,The Rosabal Line, The Mahabharata Secret and Govinda. And The White Tiger and The Family Matters.

Recently I got a surprise gift from my investment adviser -  Dont Tell The Governor by Ravi Subramanian.

A wonderful story (fiction of course) beautifully weaved around real life incidents and recent happenings in India

Yes, you may have guessed it right – the RBI Governor plays the main role, the Finance Minister must surely have a part as well. The Prime Minister walks in at the critical time. And there is someone not exactly a villain and a starlet included to give the story some glamour and oomph!!

And the plot thickens as we read. Special effects are manufactured with the Khandahar hijacking of IA plane and the grand finale leads to the Demonetization of the Rs 1000/- notes and other currencies.

A sad ending though, unlike our typical Hindi movies where they all live happily ever after.

How do you like that??

And as you read you cannot ignore drawing parallels and  imagining real life folks we have seen so often in the  media and YouTube.

If you wish to start/restart reading English fiction, this is a good book that will keep you engrossed until the last page!

I had bought the Kindle version since I am unable to read the print version.

So very soon, the intelligent Amazon app recommended me ‘The Mogul’ by Vish Dhamija.

This one is more like John Grisham with plenty of court room scenes, a double murder and a ‘who-done-it’ mystery.

And if you have read many crime & mystery thrillers, it will not be difficult for you to accurately guess who the guilty one could be.

Vish does a great job in drawing out the character of The Mogul – a wealthy Business magnate in Amchi Mumbai. Other characters are equally intense and their feelings and attitudes are wonderfully brought out as they react to the various situations.

Vish’s writing is unique – in first person and the sections are short and gripping.

So here is another book to read when you are lazing out in the sun or when you are siting in the departure lounge waiting for your flight to get announced! I assure you that this book will be more interesting than going thru your Whats App and Mail messages!

And I am going to buy the next book Amazon recommends. Let me see if there is one written by a female author this time??

Krish..