Jay Walks into the sunset

After 17 years of making people laugh on The Tonight Show, Jay Leno is wrapping up. The man was definitely funnier than the rest of the pack, with his face, thanks to that signature jaw, contributing to his jocular visage. Even after leaving the US, this is the one show that I've tried to watch whenever/wherever possible. 

He isn't quite walking away from TV though: he is only moving to a 10pm slot on NBC. Hope he takes Kevin Eubanks along too to his new show. The two of them combined to make the show truly enjoyable. Hope his new show is just as successful and Conan can fill up the big shoes that he leaves behind. 

Thank you Jay!

Spelling Bee and Indian kids: E.n.o.u.g.h!

OK. I give up. For the life of me, I can't figure out the nexus between Indian kids and the spelling bee contest. Geeky looks? Check. Dental braces? Check. Glasses? Check. And lo! yet another nerdy one with Indian creds. has lifted the trophy which, in recent years, has become a rite of passage for these kids. The only way an American or an immigrant child from any other country can lay their hands on the trophy will be to pry it out from the hands of a desi kid. In the parking lot. Somehow I don't seem to swell up with pride after say, the 5th Indian kid won it and quite honestly, I'm even beginning to be repelled by this a bit.  

Looking at the stranglehold that Indians seem to have on this contest makes me wonder whether they are naturally talented at or attracted to this contest or are they being pushed and prodded into taking part in them by over zealous parents? Is the Spelling Bee, to an Indian parent, the Wimbledon equivalent for an ex-Soviet father? Many of these XYZ-ovas that occupy the top ranks in the ATP women's rankings had a tennis racquet thrust into their hands by their dad Mr.XYZ-ov and started thwacking a tennis ball probably while still in diapers. May be these kids are forced to spell out diaper when they are wearing one? Whatever be the case, I hope that these girls and boys enjoy a normal childhood and take part in activities outside the confines of the classroon/library. And no, I didn't mean the piano class! I'm waiting to read about desi kids making a habit of winning, say, the Billabong Pipeline Masters in Hawaii.

(Image courtesy: vi.sualize.us)

My 60 minutes with the swine flu

I was in Korea, the democratic, non-nuclear one to the South, last week for a business trip. The air was crisp, flowers were in full bloom, the rolling hills were clothed in green and it could mean only one thing: swine flu alert. Nearby Japan was reporting increasing cases of the virus and as I arrived, the airport was full of face masks and all passengers were being screened for body temperature. I passed through the temperature check, cleared immigration and was out of the airport in good time. Later that afternoon, I was to hold meetings with our customers. 

We had the meeting scheduled for 4pm. Since our office is a 5-minute ride away from their fab, we left at 3:45, allowing ourselves 10 minutes to find a parking spot. We got there, parked and were at the reception by 3:55, bright and dapper. That was when our plan went pear-shaped. I'm not sure what gave it away, but the smiling receptionist pointed out, very politely, that I was from abroad and all foreign visitors were required to get a health clearance on account of the swine flu. My Korean colleagues were clearly surprised at this unexpected announcement. A brief exchange ensued, which I learned, courtesy a later translation, was that I am from Singapore, a normal, healthy, swine-flu-free nation Which meant that I was also normal, healthy and flu-free. And it was politely but firmly rubbished. 

The clinic that could issue this clearance was a 5 minute ride away. So we piled into the car and drove to said clinic. After a short wait it was my turn and the receptionist inserted one of these new-age thermometers into my left ear canal. The reading was 37.7. I'm from India which means that the metric system and the celsius scale of temperature run in my veins. Yet, when it came to body temperature, I am somehow more familiar with the Fahrenheit scale. Yet, from the deeper recesses of my brain, I knew that the regular body temperature should be 36.x, or thereabouts, and mine could be considered above normal. It was probably because of a combination of the overnight flight, the sleeplessness and the anxiety ahead of facing an unreasonable customer, although I was really feeling fine. The nurse tried my other ear. Either some employee in the thermometer manufacturing plant had taken his job seriously or I was thermally well balanced. The instrument gave out a reading of 37.7C from my right ear too. The nurse, bless her soul, was scientific in her methods, acutely aware of the role that sample size played in scientific experiments. Apparently, the folks upstairs haven't broken the Marie Curie mold yet, I suppose. For the third sample, she brought out the ultimate insturment: the mercury in glass thermometer. Holding it in her left hand, she approached me. By this time, she was painfully aware of my Korean language skills and decided that actions bore faster results than her words or their translations. In one fluid move she loosened my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, parted my vest and stuck it under my left armpit and asked me to remain this way for 10 minutes. Rigorous scientific training. I spent the next 600 seconds admiring an ancient functional clock that was reading 4:30 (Meeting time was 4:00), using the self-operated vision testing instrument, and also the self-operated BP apparatus. The old faithful read 37.7C and that meant a visit to the doctor for further steps. She hurriedly noted down the readings and pointed me to the doctor. While all this was unfolding, my senior Korean colleague, Mr. K, was increasingly getting restless and was talking on the phone in reverential tones and was bowing often and fully: an unhappy customer.

While I was waiting, thermometer-in-armpit, there was one room in and out which was a steady procession of foreigners. The ones going in wore creased foreheads while the ones emerging sported broad smiles. No points for guessing that that was where I was headed to. Before long, it was my turn to face the oracle. Mr. K insisted on accompanying me, which proved to be a boon. The doctor, a middle aged lady, as proficient in English as I was in Korean, glanced at the readings and had an animated discussion with my colleague who was frantically waving his hands and shaking his head. She then focussed her attention on me and asked haltingly, "How are you feeling?". All through this episode, if you had paid attention, I had done very little by way of talking. At various points, I had lent my ear to the nurse, not for her words but for her thermometer, but never had to open my mouth, not even for the thermometer. So when I had to respond to the doctor's question, I felt the urge to clear my throat to say all of "I'm doing fine." The clearing the throat part led to a fresh round of animated dilaog between colleague and doctor during which the former cast a quick glance at me, which, in English, could have meant "Thank you, you <insert your chosen curse word here>" The doctor finally signed the clearance certificate rather reluctantly at 4:50, bringing my secret wish for a week long quarantine in some beach/hill resort crashing to the ground. I chose not to ask Mr.K for details of his exchanges with the doctor.

The ride back to the fab, during which 3G forces acted on our necks, was mostly silent. We walked in to the conference room a full hour behind schedule. As the customers instinctively drew away from me in fear by pushing back in their chairs, Mr. K proudly waved the certificate and announced that I was indeed healthy. Thus relieved, they proceeded to thwack us with their unreasonable demands. 

Newscasts, laptops and awkward moments

I like to keep myself updated on what's happening around the world and I've noticed that watching the news, while  I'm not plugged into the www, helps me in that mission. That I'm aware of headlines from across the globe and still  end up getting drenched on my way to/from work because I didn't carry an umbrella is a totally different story. I  have a choice of four channels for local and international news. And in nearly all of them, there appears, seated on  the newsreader's desk, a laptop that seems to be contributing nothing to the proceedings in any obvious way. One of the Tamil channels, and I can't remember which one, has the laptop PC's screen closed half-way and the anchors treat it like a wild beast and make a concious attempt to not let their hands go anywhere near it lest they lose a couple of digits. I've never seen the newsreader, who is always reading off the teleprompter, use it to say, "Oh! look at this piece from the web!" or perhaps even "You guys take a break while I respond to my mails." Offensive it may seem, but at least, that piece of equipment is being put to some use. 

Which brings us to the pressing question: "What if?". I may be taking this a bit too far but what if, one day, he is  online on an instant messenger program and his son, who has made a bet with his friends, messages him right in the  middle of the business news. 

Reader: Asian stocks rallied today on fresh assurances from...

Laptop: Tada! Kiddo just signed in

Reader: ...the Central Bank of Japan....Why you little rascal.. (To the cameraman) No! Keep it rolling while I  handle this.(Starts typing frantically on the keyboard) Theeere, that should take care of the brat...where was I?

Or, what if a malicious program infects the laptop and decides to corrupt the teleprompter that is hooked up to their network, replacing the news script with gibberish or something worse, like the truth. Farfetched, but likely nevertheless. 

Despite all these clear and present dangers, there still sits a tenacious laptop,  perched rather prominently, eating up pixels on my screen. It is either a marketing ploy for product placement or part of a psychological exercise based on results that having a PC nearby helps add credibility to the content. Well, how else can one explain WebMD? One can never be too sure I suppose. 

I'm also peeved by the awkward routine at the end of the newscast. The news has been dispensed. The viewers have  been brought up to speed on the happenings around the globe, the newsreader has wished the viewers good night (or  day) and the title music starts. But the image of an unsure newsreader is still on the screens. The more savvy ones  appear relaxed: collect the sheaf of papers, arrange them in some order, pull out a pen and write something on those papers and generally try to look cool. But alas, not all of them look composed in front of a running camera without a script. Listen to any of Rajinikant's extempore speeches and you'll know what I'm talking about. I could be imagining this. But I can sense the onset of nervousness even as the sports section comes on. This nervousness sits tight through the weather report and as they sign off, it takes complete hold. The cameraman, probably with an evil smile on his face, unflinchingly focuses on them and the poor folks get all too conscious. If it is a single person, they try to do something that is worthy of a newsreader of a big channel, while cursing the cameraman under their breath through clenched teeth. And if there are two of them, they immediately turn towards at each other and start a conversation, to keep it natural. It may last only a few seconds, but I have a tough time imagining what the after-talk would be during those moments as the music plays on. I can straight away rule out politics, business and sport. Also the weather. My point is, and I speak for the news watching community as a whole, that we don't want to be forced to view a muted discussion of studio gossip. Unless we can be part of it, that is.

All this makes me miss the good old, very formal, near neutral, plain vanilla Doordarshan (DD) news that was  flawlessly read by excellent folks like Minu (my personal favorite), Geetanjali Iyer, Rini Simon (later Rini  Khanna), Usha Albequerque, Mrinalini and Tejeshwar Singh and their Tamil colleagues Sandhya Rajagopalan, Shobana  Ravi (Chandigad, killow-meter, cush-meer). Right after they wished me good night (yeah, me!) their image would fade,  the title music would come on and signal the day's end. Given DD's technical abilities, there were those moments  when they would look at the monitor, believing that the clippings would come and instead look at themselves looking at a monitor. After a few uncertain seconds, they'd recover and move on to the next item. There may have been quite a few of them, but those were glitches, or in DD-speak, "rukavats". There were hardly any awkward moments, designed to make them or the viewers uneasy. And certainly no laptops. 

What next?

With the end of LTTE as we know it, the island nation finds itself at crossroads. In my opinion, the removal of LTTE as the sole, de facto representative of the Tamils in Sri Lanka was a pre-requisite for any development to happen in that country. It must definitely be a period of uncertainty for the Tamils as they try to answer the question "What next?". I hope that the Tamil leadership in the SriLankan political set up and the international community step in to ensure that their rights to lead a dignified life in their land are safeguarded. From the Lankan side, it is a question that they must ask themselves too. This situation offers the best chance to build bridges, reconcile, and reach out to the Tamils and create an environment that enables peaceful coexistence.

To state the glaringly obvious, I believe that the immediate need must be to attend to the survivors of the war and then address the bigger issue of rehabilitation of the refugees spread out across the globe. As a distant observer, both sides need to forget the past and try to move on - much easier said than done. As people, and that includes Tamils and Sinhalese, pick up pieces of their tattered lives that have been altered beyond recognition by suffering and agony, they must be looking forward to peaceful times ahead. The wounds are still fresh and needs healing. I fervently hope that good sense prevails and this heralds an era of lasting peace for them.

My Vesak adventures

Yesterday (May 9) was Vesak, the birth day of Lord Budha, the enlightened one. Or, as we call it in our household, Saturday. Now don't get me wrong, this is the case with nearly all festivals (holidays) of all religious faiths. In keeping with usual practice, the day began much later than the regular weekday. My wife had to work yesterday. So after seeing her off, I strategically positioned myself in front of the laptop, browsing aimlessly even as my breakfast waited on the side for my attention when the door chime played out "London bridge is falling down." I knew it was our friendly, talkative, old Chinese neighbor who stops by about 3-4 times a day for a quick chat. The chats are made quick only by his rather limited vocabulary in English. (lady son = daughter) . I opened the door and it was him alright. What was not alright was that he was wearing a nice t-shirt (a rare event), pants (an equally rare event given that he always wears shorts) and a watch (reserved for the most special occasions). He announced, with as much grandeur he could muster, that he was there to take me to a Buddha temple.

Honestly, at that point, I was not aware that it was Vesak day and I thought that he was asking me to accompany him on his routine visit to a temple. I have turned down this offer on at least 6 different occasions in the past and my father too, when he was here, had turned him down on 6 other occasions. He had an air of conviction about him yesterday and made it very clear that he was not taking no for an answer. My usual excuses to wiggle out didn't work and before long I knew I had to give in. He gave me 10 minutes to get myself temple-visit-worthy and positioned himself against the railing just opposite our door. As I turned around, the choice was between taking a shower and skipping breakfast or vice versa. Those who know me well will know what I would have chosen...

I quickly informed my dad, with whom I was chatting, about my impending trip and was off with our neighbor. His son had come down to take them to the temple. As soon as I had gotten into the car and introductions were made, he announced that on account of Vesak, we would be going first to a temple at Bukit Batok, then to the one at Thompson and finally to a temple at Punggol. That was the first moment when it became clear what I had signed up for, actually, made to sign sign up for, and as the car sped into the tunnel at 80kmph, there wasn't much I could do but grin.

In our family, and I'm sure in most others too, going to the temple on a special day would mean a half day event most of which would be spent in a serpentine queue. So a quick mental calculation made it very clear that I was going to be either in temples or speeding to one for the rest of the day and it was only 11am. During the journey, talk was centered on how they were casual about religion and not that familiar with their texts and traditions. That definitely made me less apprehensive about the rest of the day and also raised my hopes for a quick return. And I was pleasantly suprised at the first temple. The routine was short and sweet: find a parking spot (15 mins), bathe the little Buddha (5 mins) and light an incense stick (5 mins) and walk back to the parking lot. The second and third temples took slightly longer only because one was a massive temple complex and it took a while to park the car at the other. At Punggol, I even got a vegetarian Bee Hoon lunch that could have had a bit more salt, been a touch spicier and a lot less wet. But it was vegetarian and I was hungry and that's all that mattered. As I polished it off, what I was feeling was either satiation or may be even nirvana!

All in all, it turned out to be a particularly active Vesak for me. As I tottered into the house, returning from the unplanned pilgrimage clutching a coke bottle filled with holy water and a booklet on Vipassana meditation techniques, it was half a Saturday well spent. Peace!