Great Minds... waiting to be discovered!!!

The other day I received an email with ‘Great Indians’ as its subject header. I opened the mail casually, eager to check if I’ve seen it before. But it wasn’t just another forward. This one got me thinking… it got me thinking real hard!!!


The mail highlighted some breakthrough innovations in the field of mathematics, science, astrology, medicine, yoga etc. It spanned across the likes of Aryabhatta, Bhaskaracharya, Sushrut and Varahamihir. A sense of pride engulfed me when I realized that all the modern day wonders in these domains have their roots in India. I closed the mail with a broad smile. While doing that I chanced upon the subject line once again and a thought pierced through my mind. ‘Great Indians’ – These great Indians made their contributions hundreds of years ago. Why have we not had as many ‘Great Indians’ in the last couple of decades?


Food for thought isn’t it? Spend a couple of minutes pondering over this and you will realize that most of the world’s leading innovations have their origins in something that was pioneered in India. I am sure this thought will lead you to question yourself. Has innovation in India stagnated? Have we learnt and grown enough? Have we stopped looking for newer things?


Given that the ‘Great Indians’ who I quoted earlier achieved their claim to fame so many years ago, it is an understood fact that access to information, communication, technology etc was not available to them. What they have achieved was purely on the basis of merit and the genius within them. With so much of advancement happening around us today why has the number of great Indian minds dwindled over the years? Why don’t we hear of such breakthroughs in India instead of simply being in awe of what the developed nations are churning out, in spite of the fact that one of the main reasons they’re doing well is that they get a lot of their inputs off Indian shelves!!!


With the boom in Information Technology, easy access to information and strong knowledge hubs available to us, the proportion of great thinking and such innovations should have been much higher. Sadly though most of today’s ‘great thinking’ happens abroad, and in most cases it is fuelled by Indian minds branded internationally. More crudely put – the brain drain continues!!!


India often complains about her problem of population explosion. It is a problem no doubt, but our inability to channelize our human resources is one of the main reasons why we’re drifting away unguided.


Information Technology in India has played the role of a catalyst in many ways. Be it bridging the urban-rural divide, generation of employment opportunities for people from the smallest of towns in India or the boom in our country’s economy, a lot has changed … a lot has improved. Unfortunately, though this entire boom is driven by the western world. We Indians are just following the crowd… potential great minds simply rusting away!!!


What then are the reasons for this stagnation? We cannot really blame our educational system entirely. In terms of curricula I think we are surely progressing but the Indian pedagogy needs a major revamp!!! Today most of our leading business schools and premier technical institutes market their brand on the basis of their placement statistics. Jobs in blue chip companies and hefty pay packets are what students are looking out for. Quality learning and practical implementation seem to have lost their significance.


Once we achieve our ‘dream’ jobs, there’s nothing much to be really happy about. Most of our corporate setups believe in taking the easier approach to business practices. Taking the trodden path seems to be the safest way out. Innovative Thinking takes yet another beating… all in the name of following ‘industry standards’ and ‘best practices’ laid down by the west.


For instance, take a look at a cross section of the IT companies in India. A majority of them adopt an onsite-offshore business model. This means our onsite counterparts decide what we do and how we do it. Take a closer look… and you’ll realize that most of the work that is off shored is some variant of software maintenance activity – production support, code upgrades and bug fixing etc. Simply put the quality of work that comes to us is very menial as compared to what we are capable of.


Is this how are dream jobs were meant to be? The irony of the whole thing is that we fail to realize this at the right time because all this humbug is brilliantly camouflaged. Interesting salary packages, stylish perks and incentives, pick up and drop facilities, Sodexho passes, a couple of onsite trips (not to mention the allowances in foreign currency) and the entire shopping mall - multiplex culture that has gripped our nation blankets the monotony of the inferior quality of the work being dumped on us. When we realize what we’ve got ourselves into we look up to job-hopping as the only solution!!! If this continues the larger problem will only get larger!!!


India’s corporate community has a major role to play to help our her emerge as a global innovator. In this fast paced economy there will be many obstacles that stunt efforts made by an individual or a group of individuals. Corporate bigwigs, political visionaries and our IT giants need to encourage, finance, market and sustain innovative thinking in order to help our nation scale greater heights. The appreciation in the value of the Indian Rupee is something we should be proud of. Instead there seems to be a lull in the business community. Imagine the returns we could have garnered if we had geared up ourselves intellectually. We could have done so well exporting all our homegrown products, services and ideas.


Also, I strongly believe that the IT sector has got a lot of undue mileage over the last few years. There are so many sectors like agriculture, medicine, finance, biotechnology, education and many more such areas where we can innovate and come out with path breaking revelations. There’s a lot of potential and there are a lot of avenues waiting to be explored. We just need to get started!!! We cannot rely on our government to help us in this initiative. There’s a lot of mess within that needs to tackled anyway. CEO’s of huge organizations in India should look beyond their company balance sheets and extend the required platform and opportunity to harness our true potential and emerge as a global leader in the true sense.


It’s time we look beyond earning profits for international multinational companies. It’s time we make way for many more ‘Great Indians’!!!

(PS: A special thanks to Balaji for forwarding the 'Great Indians' mail to me and to Saravanan for his comments on what I felt about that mail.)

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Aaja Nachle... to the tune of politics!!!

Madhuri Dixit-Nene's return to Bollywood has been the latest buzz in Bollywood. The dancing queen continues to dazzle one and all with her beautiful smile. Her fans sure are happy to have her back!!! Movie buffs are happy to see her back on the silver screen. Reality shows are cashing in on the occasion by inviting Madhuri over. Aaja Nachle was the talk of the town!!! Sounds too perfect to be so straight and clean, right. There has to be something that plays spoilsport... and when there's no one to do that... politicians and their supporters nonchalantly oblige!!!

The lyrics in the movie's title track, 'mohalle mein kaisi mara mar hai/ bole mochi bhi khud ko sunaar hai' (what is this commotion in the neighbourhood/ a cobbler is calling himself a goldsmith) has given a chance for people to complain and create an issue out of something that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. I'm sure the lyricist meant no offence to those of a particular caste!!!

With all due respect to people of all castes and creed, all I'd like to say is that such incidents are exploited by our politicians to the core!!! Film music lovers (cobblers, goldsmiths and the rest of the clan) would have gone ahead and enjoyed the song without even paying attention to the lyrics and taking such serious offence!!!

I'm not a casteist, but if our (???!!!!) politicians were really so sensitive to casteism why can't they really 'do' something for the upliftment of the lower castes (sadly it does exist as a concept!!) instead of publicizing the whole matter and blowing it out of proportion and in the melee enjoy their much needed political mileage!!!

Grow up dear politicians... we're a mature audience... and we're watching you too!!!

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To all our wonderful mums...

(An excellent poem I got by email. It focuses on the greatness of the greatest ever personality Almighty created for human beings and other living creatures : MOTHERS. Hope this poem serves as an eye-opener for all of us...)

I was a just-born and she was thirty-one,

Though we were we, we were one.

I would cry out in Latin and she would respond in Greek,

I would learn nothing but she never got tired to teach.

I was surrounded by monsters eager to pull my cheek,

but they would vanish the moment i was wet and weep.

She would come running and hold me in her arms,

as if i had won the contest of the charms.

Now I was able to walk and chew,

hey, i was two.

I and she could now understand each other,

i was her everything and she needed no other.

I would try to walk and fall down,

But knowing she was with me, the fear of getting hurt was now gone.

We still could not converse that effectively,

But she would understand my needs so easily.

I could now roam about free,

because now i have turned three.

I was ready to join a new world,

my academic life was now gonna mould.

She would dress me as best as a prince,

but when i would come back, she would need at least an hour to rinse.

I was now able to talk,

I was a ferry and she was my dock.

I still remember the child, whose shirt I had tore,

Hey buddy, i have turned four.

I now came home a little late,

Nevertheless finding her waiting at the gate.

She would hug me and carry me in her arms,

it felt like flying through the farms.

We now did the homework together,

i would spoil the home and she used to work.

Years passed and now i was fifteen,

and with each year i would forget to lean.

I wouldn't care for what she said,

because now i had become mean.

She would ask me to study for a good future,

but i was busy in a different culture.

Now i had many shes in my life,

i dreamed of having one of them as my wife.

I changed a lot which she did not teach,

She would try to hug me but i was out of reach.

She still waited for me at the gate,

but i would look at her with utmost hate.

She would be awake till late in the night,

because i wasn't home, i was in a fight.

She had so much to scold, but she never did say,

hoping to find me better the next day.

Time went on and now i am grown,

lost in the world of my own.
I and she, between us have a river,

I have left her for my career.

When i was young, for me, she sacrificed her ambitions,

but i don't care, i now have my own mission.

I am not with her now, i am in a different city,

she is so old now but i don't even pity.

She needs me now but i am nowhere to find,

in the race for appraisal, i have become blind.

In a few years from now, i will be two,

there will be in my life someone new.

Then i'll forget even to bother,

I am her son and she my Mother.

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Daddy Prize

(a touching tale by Robert Fulghum)

The Cardboard box is marked "The Good Stuff." As I write, I can see the box where it is stored on a high shelf in my studio. I like beingable to see it when I look up. The box contains those odds and ends of personal treasures that have survived many bouts ofclean-it-out-and-throw-it-away that seize me from time to time. Thebox has passed through the screening done as I've moved from house tohouse and hauled stuff from attic to attic. A thief looking into the box would not take anything – he couldn't get a dime for any of it.But if the house ever catches on fire, the box goes with me when Irun.One of the keepsakes in the box is a small paper bag. Lunch size.Though the top is sealed with duct tape, staples, and several paperclips, there is a ragged rip in one side through which the contentsmay be seen.

This particular lunch sack has been in my care for maybe fourteenyears. But it really belongs to my daughter, Molly. Soon after shecame of school age, she became an enthusiastic participant in packingthe morning lunches for herself, her brothers, and me. Each bag got a share of sandwiches, apples, milk money, and sometimes a note or atreat. One morning Molly handed me two bags as I was about to leave.One regular lunch sack. And the one with the duct tape and staples andpaper clips. "Why two bags?" "The other one is something else." "What's in it?" "Just some stuff – take it with you." Not wanting tohold court over the matter, I stuffed both sacks into my briefcase,kissed the child, and rushed off.

At midday, while hurriedly scarfing down my real lunch, I tore openMolly's bag and shook out the contents. Two hair ribbons, three smallstones, a plastic dinosaur, a pencil stub, a tiny seashell, two animalcrackers, a marble, a used lipstick, a small doll, two chocolatekisses, and thirteen pennies.

I smile. How charming. Rising to hustle off to all the importantbusiness of the afternoon, I swept the desk clean – into thewastebasket – leftover lunch, Molly's junk, and all. There wasn'tanything in there I needed.

That evening Molly came to stand beside me while I was reading thepaper. "Where's the bag?" "What bag?" "You know, the one I gave youthis morning." "I left it at the office, why?" "I forgot to put this not in it." She hands over the note. "Besides, I want it back?" "Why?""Those are my things in the sack, Daddy, the ones I really like – Ithought you might like to play with them, but now I want them back. You didn't loose the bag, did you, Daddy?" Tears puddled in her eyes."Oh no, I just forgot to bring it home." I lied. "Bring it tomorrow,okay?" "Sure thing – don't worry." AS she hugged my neck with relief, I unfolded the note that had not got into the sack: "I love youDaddy."

Oh

And also – uh-oh.

I looked long at the face of my child.

She was right- what was in the sack was "something else."

Molly had given me her treasures. All that a seven-year-old held dear.Love in a paper sack. And I had missed it. Not only missed it, but hadthrown it in the wastebasket because "there wasn't anything in there I needed." Dear God.

It was a long trip back to the office. But there was nothing else tobe done. So I went. The pilgrimage of a penitent. Just ahead of thejanitor, I picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on mydesk. I was sorting it all out when the janitor came in to do his chores. "Lose something?" "Yeah, my mind." "It's probably in there,all right. What's it look like and I'll help you find it?" I startednot to tell him. But I couldn't feel any more of a fool than I was already in fact, so I told him. He didn't laugh. He smiled. "I gotkids, too." So the brotherhood of fools searched the t rash and foundthe jewels and he smiled at me and I smiled at him. You are never alone in these things. Never.

After washing the mustard off the dinosaurs and spraying the wholething with breath-freshener to kill the smell of onions, I carefullysmoothed out the wadded ball of brown paper into a semifunctional bagand put the treasures inside and carried the whole thing home gingerly, like and injured kitten. The next evening I returned it toMolly, no questions asked, no explanations offered. The bag didn'tlook so good but the stuff was all there and that's what counted.After dinner I asked her to tell me about the stuff in the sack, and so she took it all out a piece at a time and placed the objects in arow on the dinning room table. It took a long time to tell. Everythinghad a story a memory, or was attached to dreams and imaginary friends.Fairies had brought some of the things. And I had given her thechocolate kisses, and she had kept them for when she needed them. Imanaged to say, "I see" very wisely several times in the telling. Andas a matter of fact, I did see.

To my surprise, Molly gave the bag to me once again several dayslater. Same ratty bag. Same stuff inside. I felt forgiven. Andtrusted. And loved. And a little more comfortable wearing the title ofFather. Over several months the bag went with me from time to time. It was never clear to me why I did or did not get it on a given day. Ibegan to think of it as the Daddy Prize and tried to be good the nightbefore so I might be given it the next morning.

In time Molly turned her attention to other things...found othertreasures…lost interest in the game.. grew up. Something. Me? I wasleft holding the bag. She gave it to me one morning and never askedfor its return. And so I have it still.

Sometimes I think of all the times in this sweet life when I must havemissed the affection I was being given. A friend calls this "standingknee-deep in the river and dying of thirst."

So the worn paper sack is there in the box. Left over from a time whena child said. "Here- this is the best I've got. Take it – it's yours.Such as I have, give I to thee."

I missed it the first time. But it's my bag now.

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