Health is Wealth

“It is the number placed below the horizontal line of a fraction. It indicates the total number of equal parts into which the whole, the number above the line, is divided. It is sometimes used interchangeably with the term ‘divisor.’”

“Do you know what a denominator is?” was the question to which I had responded. It may not have been a textbook definition, but I had rattled it off with confidence. Math had been a favourite subject in school.

My back had started to straighten once again, coming, as it did, on the back of (no pun intended) “Do you know what a numerator is?” to which I had responded confidently with “It is the number above the line in a fraction which gets divided into as many equal parts as the number below the line. It is often used interchangeably with ‘dividend.’”

We seemed to be moving towards familiar territory. I was sure the next question would ask me to define ‘quotient.’

About time too. The sailing before these questions had been anything but smooth. “When was the last time you ordered food?” as soon as I entered the room, had set the tone for the meeting.

It was not something I was prepared for, and my immediate impulse was to call it out as an ‘out of syllabus’ question. But then, you are never prepared for a meeting with a smart government representative, are you? Especially when the official is an enumerator who calls on you for the decadal census exercise, which, this decade, was being done a decade-and-a-half-ly, to count the number of heads. I resisted the urge. If we can do ‘thali-banging’ to force the pandemic back, then ordering food could certainly be the secret key to unlocking the mysteries of the census.

“Is that a thing? Can that be done? Don’t you need to go and fetch it? What do you mean by ‘ordered food home?’” I had not said a word, but sensing the confusion and the torrent of questions her question had possibly created in my mind, she said, helpfully, “Haven’t you heard of apps like Zomato and Swiggy? Through them, you can order food from anywhere, generally at a much higher price.”

A light bulb clicked. I remembered. Of course, I was familiar with the apps. Just two years back, when we needed to order samosas for some unannounced guests, we had requested our son in far-away Hamburg, in Germany, to order them for us in Gurgaon after trying and failing ourselves.

“Nearly once in two years,” I said confidently.

If she was disappointed with the answer, she did not show it, though her next question did possess a hint of betrayal. “What about eating out? You must be folks who prefer to eat food hot and hence eat out instead of ordering. How often do you eat out?” she asked, with hope once again. She knew she had found a legitimate explanation for the meal-ordering frequency.

I knew I was on a strong wicket. Just two months back, we had gone to an eatery across the road from our house for some idlis and dosas. The enumerator would be pleased. “Two months,” I said, looking her in the eye.

She almost fell off her chair. “You don’t mean…” she had trouble completing the sentence. “You don’t mean you cook food at home?” It was more an accusation than a question.

I could only nod, no longer looking her in the eye.

If she was disappointed, she did not show it. Regaining her composure quickly, she asked, this time with a smile that seemed genuine, “and which nice restaurant do you go to once in two months?” She spoke with the authority of a person who had found a legitimate explanation for the eating-out frequency, or the lack of it.

“Nice? What do you mean by nice?” I was sure that the place I ate at was nice, but I wanted to be sure.

“You know…expensive.” With some after-thought she added, “The ones that advertise and say that you could be anywhere, New York, London, except where you are, Gurgaon or Delhi, once you step inside. Where butter chicken is written in Portuguese on the menu with an explanation in, well, maybe Japanese, with a picture alongside to help you order. That one.”

She looked at me. She knew. There was no answer. Considerate woman that she was, she did not dwell on it for long and moved on. “Then…” she pondered for a bit, “how do you fall ill?”

“Do I need to? Must I?” I protested.

It seemed she did not hear me. “Do you ever think beyond yourself? Have you noticed that shops selling groceries and bookstores are closing down and shops selling protein powders, skin treatments, and diabetes medication are thriving? Do you know how many big hospitals have opened in Gurgaon in the last three years?”

I was about to answer when she started raising her right hand. I braced for a slap. But she merely waved it to indicate that I should stay quiet. I gladly complied, having avoided the slap. I did not know anyway.

“Did you know that India runs the most efficient health-based economic stimulus programme? It may have taken time and effort but we have managed to make the modern city lifestyle a masterpiece of convenience, replacing walking with driving, cooking with ordering, and sweat and exertion-prone exercise with motivational reels about exercise and mental reconditioning. Now, even if you want to exercise or make physical exertion of any sort, like getting up for a glass of water, you need a physical trainer or yoga teacher to tell you the right way and monitor your heartbeat and steps through the entire process. Children are no longer allowed to play aimless games, building their strength, creativity, independence, and ability to negotiate the world in haphazard ways. They now play managed games under the watchful eyes of a trainer, learning valuable leadership skills that will help them comply and look for approval when they grow up.”

I was transfixed. It was all so simple. She smiled, knowing the impression she had created. “There is even a solution for aiding the sleep that you cannot get because there is no physical exertion; soothing music coming out of your mobile, that takes you further away from it, helping build fatigue. The body is a remarkable machine, isn’t it? Every ounce of effort removed from daily life is carefully converted into a future medical condition. The economy keeps moving: first, we spend money avoiding effort, then we spend even more money repairing the damage. The result? A thriving ecosystem where everyone in the economy, the food delivery apps, pharmaceutical companies, diagnostic labs, hospitals, and health insurers, all prosper together.”

“But tell me,” she seemed to have been reminded of something as she sipped water from a glass, “have you started undergoing preventive medical checkups once in three months yet?”

I had relaxed, believing that the inquisition was over and all I had to do was listen to her. But the ball was thrust back in my court. “Three months?” I repeated the question.

Ignoring my question, she added, “Since we became a free market, though we may not be able to freely express ourselves or freely convert rupees to other currencies, preventive checkups have freed up a billion people from health non-issues. While initially recommended once in three years, the nation’s development and the concurrent rise of hospitals and diagnostic facilities now require every patriotic citizen to do a checkup once every quarter. Of course, we are working on an educational campaign that will make people feel guilty each time they walk past a diagnostic centre and don’t get themselves tested. Are you there yet?”

I thought I had understood the question before the explanation. Now I was not sure I had. I could not even repeat “three months?” as I had done earlier, since I was no longer sure what the question was. “Where was I supposed to be?” I wondered.

“When was the last time you went in for a preventive medical test?” she prompted helpfully, rephrasing her original question for my benefit. “Why wait for symptoms when you can begin worrying immediately? After all, prevention is better than cure. And recurring prevention is even better than one-time prevention, is it not?”

She glanced at her watch, apparently realizing she was running short on time. “OK, what about wearables?” she said abruptly, without waiting for a response.

“Wearables?” At least I could repeat the question. It meant I understood the question.

“Yes, wearables,” she said, her words gathering pace. “What you, and everyone, not just people whose health requires them to, wear on your body at all times to find new reasons for seeking medical help. Now, if you wake up feeling rested, you can check your sleep score to discover reasons why the sleep was not restful and seek treatment. Good health is no longer the exclusive preserve of the individual. The national economy is fully involved.”

“How often do you take shots for diseases that you have never heard of? Or the ones you have heard of? Have you started taking annual flu shots at least twice a year yet?”

“I think I got the standard polio, BCG, smallpox, etc. when I was a child,” I said.

She gave me a withering glance. Regaining her composure quickly, she continued, “Ah! Maybe, you consult your doctor every week?” with the gentleness of a person who had found a legitimate explanation for the shots, and the absence of a response.

“Just before Covid,” I said, hesitatingly, “is when I last saw the doctor.”

“Are you saying you don’t visit doctors and occasionally spend a night or two in hospital? Or have aches and pains and conditions that go away on their own?” Her voice was sharp.

She leaned back in her chair, took off her glasses, and kept them on the table in front. She had apparently reached a decision in her mind and turned the conversation to the numerator and denominator. And then, exactly as I had anticipated, came “Do you know what quotient is?”

“A quotient is the numerical result obtained when you divide one number (the dividend) by another number (the divisor),” I said, a little unenthusiastically. I was not sure where this discussion was headed.

“Exactly,” she beamed. I relaxed.

“Our great leaders have been working at increasing our GDP and taking us out of poverty, ably supported by most people. The per capita GDP tracks the GDP per individual and is considered to be one of the sacred measures of material prosperity. The numerator is the GDP, the denominator is the number of people in the economy, and the quotient is the…” she trailed off.

This was in my comfort zone.

“You are one of the few who stand in the way of our great nation’s deserved development…” This was a direct attack. I closed up again. “…by not contributing to the GDP. What right do you have to be counted in the denominator without contributing to the numerator?”

The path from ordering food to unlocking the mysteries of the census was becoming clear to me. “Do you want to be cancelled?” I heard a faraway voice say, like a mythical ‘akashvani.’ “No, no, no,” I screamed out. “I promise to always take the lift instead of stairs when going up and spend at least an hour aimlessly scrolling on my mobile before sleeping. I will selectively replace water with carbonated, sugary drinks after checking that their advertisement says they are good for health, which I will order through a food delivery app. I will…”

“Relax! Wake up. Who were you talking to?” The enumerator was standing next to me, with worry on her face. “We know you are a well-meaning person. A lack of knowledge and guidance can lead anyone astray. I will be back in a few weeks for the final tally. You have time to turn things around and make a positive contribution to the GDP, or else…” she trailed off as she gathered her papers and walked out.

Oil Is Well

Pitched battles have been reported from samosa shops in local markets across the nation. Police battalions have had to be diverted from their primary duty of serving tea and samosas to political leaders to handle someone else’s task of maintaining law and order on the streets.

Now that elections in a few crucial states like Bengal, Tamil Nadu and Keralam are over, and the common man’s need of travelling in long cavalcades of cars with party flags proudly visible and supporters thumping chests, or flying in helicopters and chartered planes to remote locations to campaign and give important speeches to forgotten communities has receded, as has the fear of the common man being unfairly influenced by rising prices when the vote is cast, at least till the next election comes around, market-determined fuel prices have been raised by the government yesterday, by about ₹3 per litre of petrol or diesel.

Ever since the 10th of May, when the great leader offered austerity suggestions to the general public and asked them to stop buying gold, postpone foreign holidays, switch from private cars to public transport, and, of course, adopt the greatest invention since sliced bread, work from home, or WFH, that can be mandated for increased productivity and great benefits to the nation and its people at the drop of a political hat, and which has increasingly been outlawed by most organisations with an interest in productivity and a bottom-line to worry about, people have been on edge.

Not having the luxury of taking decisions for the welfare of the world, such as starting or stopping wars, the little guy is naturally worried and wondering what additional burden will he be volunteered for to avoid being classified as anti-national.

It is not that the austerity suggestions are not useful. As stand-up comic Varun Grover pointed out in a recent video, of the large number of people who don’t earn enough to buy two square meals a day, many must be slinking out to jewellery shops during their breaks or stopping over on their evening trudge back home, to buy bars of 99.99% purity gold, while planning their next Alaska cruise. This message will certainly make them think. But then, as Varun Grover did not say, there are the others, who can afford two square meals a day, and do. Buy gold, I mean. And take overseas holidays. And these people invariably treat the great leader’s suggestions as gospel.

The suggestions, at the very least, serve to highlight the possibility of eliminating the wastefulness of the little guy in his day-to-day life, in other words, days when the great leader is not asking for sacrifice. The little guy likes to travel in private cars, not to reach in good time, comfortably, so that the objective of getting to that place they have gone to can be achieved in an efficient, effective manner, which creates value beyond what has been spent on the resources consumed, but to consume resources wastefully.

And the call to postpone overseas travel is such a clever ploy to save foreign exchange (read US dollar) reserves. Who could have thought of it? Clearly, previous leaders did not. It is such a blessing to have uninformed people as leaders of other nations. Nobody else will possess the smarts to ask their citizens to stop travelling to India and consuming in India, filling up our coffers. The result? India’s foreign exchange reserves will keep going up, up, and away at the cost of other foolish nations. Just like the riches that follow after the frequent calls given out to stop buying products made in a certain country, while the other nation gets stricken by poverty.

The success of these suggestions may also require popular measures, such as the devaluation of the currency and increasing energy prices, to be deferred, casting a long shadow on the people’s trust in the government. But great leaders do what they need to do, without worrying about the long shadows such decisions cast.

To be fair, the Indian PM puts his money where his mouth is. He has stopped using cars. He has switched to an aeroplane, an established public transport medium, to travel to Sweden, Italy, the Netherlands and Italy where the Middle East battle is raging; oh sorry, where the Strait of Hormuz is; oh sorry, where the Indian cargo ship sank after catching armed flying drones; oh sorry…it is for strategic cooperation, strategic partnerships and interfaith engagement, among other things.

And we must be grateful. In the vitiated environment we are living in, with multiple wars raging and energy security a looming threat, he is not losing sight of the future and trying to ensure every Indian has a bright one. Like he ensured that the Rupee would not suddenly depreciate tank 15% against the US Dollar in a few months in early 2026, and the US will not impose import tariffs on Indian goods one fine day, when he went to the US in September 2014 for the purpose of strengthening India-US relations and attracting investment. Or how he ensured that market-driven petrol prices would not need to be artificially maintained at extant levels till state elections, and then artificially jacked up in 2026 when he went to the UAE in August 2015 for the purpose of energy security.

Or, the many other wonderful things that we are not even conscious of as a result of him travelling to Australia in November 2014 for energy and security cooperation, to Sri Lanka, Seychelles and Mauritius in March 2015 for maritime security and Indian Ocean diplomacy, to Russia in July 2015 for bilateral defence ties, to Belgium, Saudi Arabia and the US in March-April 2016 for energy and counter-terror operations, to Iran in May 2016 for the Chabahar port agreement, to Qatar in June 2016 for energy ties, to Israel in July 2017 for strengthening defence and technology ties, among many others.

But I digress.

Panic has no logic. It happens when it happens. And panic is what had been triggered, leading to the breakdown in the law-and-order situation.

Apparently, by a fast-circulating belief that after the widespread acceptance of the suggestion to reduce the consumption of fuel for transportation, the great leader was drawing up restaurant and household menus to reduce the consumption of cooking oil. This came on the back of a message of uncertain provenance and vintage consumed even more eagerly by a knowledgeable, wise, mature population, attributed to a Big 5 consulting firm, according to which India consumed nearly 10 billion samosas in a year and frying them consumed nearly 100,000 metric tonnes of cooking oil annually, a substantially high component of the cooking oil import bill for one single savoury item.

What is a knowledgeable, wise, mature population to do in the face of clear evidence? Fight for that samosa, or two, naturally, one of which could be their last.

Between The Lines

The meeting didn’t just begin — it began with energy, with purpose, and with a shared commitment to delivering outcomes that hardly mattered.

While outside, the rain was not just falling — it was falling with steadiness, with rhythm, and with a beat meant to provide backdrop music for the momentous discussions about to commence.

The invite for the meeting was not just sent — it was sent with grace, in time, and with the unmistakable arrogance of an assistant who knew her boss would be the seniormost participant in the meeting.

The report circulated in advance of the meeting wasn’t just a report — it was a reflection of the company’s commitment, its rigour, and its journey towards excellence.

The conference room didn’t just fill up — it filled up with stakeholders, with perspectives, and with an enthusiasm that only participants in corporate meetings can muster up.

The participants did not just greet each other — they greeted each other with warmth, with familiarity, and with a quiet understanding that nothing of substance would follow.

The presentation didn’t just load — it loaded with anticipation, with transitions, and with the hiccups reserved for important occasions.

The agenda for the meeting didn’t just get created — it got created with structure, with intent, and with a narrative arc that gave nothing away.

The CEO didn’t just speak — he spoke with clarity, with conviction, and with his head turned at an angle which implied he was reading from his notes.

The participants didn’t just nod — they nodded with caution, with hesitation, and finally vigorously when they were sure the CEO was looking at them.

They knew they were in the presence of a CEO who didn’t just lead — she led with empathy, with vision, and with a quiet strength that inspired everyone around her.

The spreadsheet projected by the Finance team didn’t just open — it opened with clarity, with structure, and with the quiet confidence of numbers that know where they stand.

The silence that greeted the spreadsheet wasn’t just any silence — it was silence with depth, with presence, and with an almost audible gasp of relief.

The company didn’t just meet its targets — it met them with resilience, with agility, and with an unwavering belief in the usefulness of its products.

The slide on “Key Priorities” didn’t just appear — it appeared with bullet points, with symmetry, and with a confident transition that belied the vagueness of the bullet points.

The discussion didn’t just unfold — it unfolded with viewpoints, with counterpoints, and with a delicate balance of saying much while committing to little.

The phrase “going forward” didn’t just get used — it got used with frequency, with flexibility, and with a reassuring absence of timelines.

The phrase “circling back” didn’t just emerge — it emerged with familiarity, with comfort, and with a quiet promise of future deferral.

The action items didn’t just get noted — they got noted with ownership, with timelines, and with a mutual understanding that both ownership and timelines were subject to negotiation and change.

When the coffee arrived, it didn’t just arrive — it arrived with warmth, with cookies, and with an aroma that only freshly brewed coffee can give out.

The participants who had forgone lunch waited for the sandwiches not just to be served — but to be served with layers, with texture, and with a filling designed to satiate hungry stomachs.

The late joiners didn’t just apologize — they apologized with sincerity, with brevity, and with a request to “quickly get brought up to speed,” turning the clock back several minutes on each such occasion.

The decisions didn’t just get made — they got made with alignment, with consensus, and with a notable absence of anything irreversible.

At the end, the meeting didn’t just close — it closed with appreciation, with gratitude, and with a collective agreement that it had been a productive use of time, which called for frequent repetition.

The calendar didn’t just update — it updated with invites, with placeholders, and with a follow-up meeting scheduled to deliberate over what had just been discussed.

And somewhere, in the quiet glow of a laptop screen, the minutes didn’t just get written — they got written with detail, with diplomacy, and with an unwavering commitment to ensuring that, once again, the next meeting to deliberate over the same subject while sipping coffee and eating sandwiches, was not jeopardized.

When the last participant had walked out of the conference room, the door didn’t just close — it closed with finality, with grace, and with the soft echo of no decisions made.

What LinkedIn started, AI promises to finish.

Business Class

Barely a week after the civil aviation ministry mandarins saved poor flyers from the greedy clutches of airlines, they are out wearing their Superman capes all over again, this time to save the poor airlines from the greedy clutches of flyers.

As we all know by now, poor flyers were saved from the greedy clutches of airlines by the ministry decreeing that airlines need to offer at least 60% of the seats on domestic sectors free of charge. A great idea, flawlessly executed.

And great math. 40% is just the right number for the percentage of flyers who deserve to be charged for the seat if they choose to choose one. Neither 30% nor 50% would have been suitable. Wouldn’t you agree?

The transparency and faith in the companies running these airlines to do the right thing is commendable, as no cap has been specified by the ministry for the 40% seats that can be charged. Because charging anything for those 40% seats does not tantamount to greed while charging something for seats beyond 40% does.

What is more, they are required to provide assured seating together for families, taking sitting next to your spouse off the list of value-added services. Even if they don’t want to sit together. But that apart, if both seats on either side of the aisle have been charged and booked in the 3+3 (3 seats on either side of the aisle) seating formation that most aircrafts have, it amounts to 33% of the seats being charged, which is within the norms. And then a great Indian family of six checks in!

How they will be seated together is a problem only the civil aviation industry mandarins may be able to solve. Perhaps on a “best effort” basis, which is what clear and transparent rules promulgated by smart, well-meaning government officials lead to.

On-board counsellors occupying a seat within the 60% free seats on the aircraft, to address the trauma of family members not seated together might well be the ministry’s next masterstroke.

Sociologists are already studying the possible fallout and seem to be veering towards the view that flyers who don’t have to pay for a seat can be expected to exhibit higher levels of negotiation skills, spatial awareness, and emotional resilience.

In any case, an additional entry will be required on the booking form to capture the relationship between people booking a ticket together. This way families on the same PNR can be seated (or tried to be seated) together while friends or colleagues booked on the same PNR can be seated apart. Simple!

Airlines are being protected against greedy fliers wanting to fly cheap by removing the caps placed on domestic fares. Some may recollect that a temporary cap on domestic airfares had been introduced after widespread flight disruptions in December last year.

The disruption was the result of Indigo, India’s largest airline, facing a scheduling crisis as a result of its inability to comply with the flight crew time limitations mandated by the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA). In response, as only efficient and fair regulators do, the DGCA relaxed some of the rules, and gave IndiGo a temporary exemption, while imposing a fare cap on all airlines.

The event was a demonstration of the effectiveness of regulatory oversight and the Competition Act. Presumably, the act allows regulators to take sudden, temporary decisions in the best interest of someone.

The cap has been lifted following a review of current operating conditions. Understandably, the conditions have changes substantially, and we can all see that.

In December flyers wanted to fly in the greatest comfort, on the fastest route, at the lowest cost. In December airlines wanted to charge the maximum possible for each ticket while operating at the lowest cost and providing sufficient customer comfort and convenience, while returning the most profit to their owners.

Today, flyers want to fly in the greatest comfort, on the fastest route, at the lowest cost. Today, airlines want to charge the maximum possible for each ticket while operating at the lowest cost and providing sufficient customer comfort and convenience, while returning the most profit to their owners.

Under the circumstances, what is a logic-driven government to do? Lift the cap, of course.

The cap itself, again, was logically defined; ₹7,500 up to 500 km, ₹12,000 between 500 and 1,000 km and so on. Not 11,000, not 13,000, but 12,000. Who can argue with that?

The move is expected to directly impact flyers, and airfares are set to be costlier with the removal of this airfare cap. Airlines, grappling with rising costs, can now adjust fares freely based on demand and supply. This means that prices of flights during holidays, festivals, and for last-minute bookings can see a considerable surge. 

However, it is important to note that this could also lead to reduced fares during off-peak periods.

Demand and supply? In a free market? Can someone tell me what it means? Doesn’t the government know that flyers deserve to fly at the lowest cost in the greatest comfort? Doesn’t it know that airlines need to charge the maximum possible for each ticket while operating at the lowest cost and providing sufficient customer comfort and convenience, while returning the most profit to their owners?

Even as the cap was removed, the ministry asked airlines to maintain pricing discipline and act responsibly. As clear a guidance as any that a government can provide.

The cocktail party circuits have forgotten Iran-USA-Israel and are heatedly discussing whether armrests on seats will be charged or not, the percentage of flyers that will be offered free meals on a flight, and whether a clear difference between premium economy and economy premium will be mandated.

With the PM articulating the goal of democratising aviation several years back by stating that he wanted to see “people who wear Hawai chappal… in a hawai jahaz,” symbolising affordable air travel for the common citizen, flying has come of age in India.

But someone still needs to pay, it seems. Directly or indirectly.

Park and Ride

A wrong turn or movement in the wrong direction by a single unit can bring traffic to a standstill in crowded geographies. Several doing it together can create a gridlock lasting days.

1.5 million doing it? At the same time?

Impossible!

Yet, it was happening. But in this corner of the world, where natural cycles continue unabated, and nobody tries to make anyone else developed, it had gone almost unnoticed.

Only when the herd was about to cross the scars of the East African Rift Valley, where calves stumbled on volcanic rocks and vultures patiently circled overhead, did the thought occur that something was amiss. Instead of tracing the path back to the Serengeti, to the southwest of the Masai Mara, across the Mara River, at this time of the year, the herd had decided to move in the opposite direction, to the North and East, through the Rift Valley.

By the time the herd started emerging out of the Rift Valley, word had gotten around that something unique, a once-in-a-millennium type of event, was unfolding in this forgotten corner of the world, and media crews had begun to descend. Nobody, not governments, not media, not militaries, could think about stopping the march; the march of over a million wildebeest away from their natural grazing grounds between Kenya and Tanzania.

Neither could they. They were all scared. They had no clue where the herd was going, and why, and hence could not shoulder the responsibility of disrupting this unfolding natural phenomenon. Governments and people in Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, could only watch the spectacle in wonder as the herd made its way up the coast and finally crossed over, through Israel, Jordan, and the Northern periphery of the Arabian Peninsula, rounded the Persian Gulf mouth near Kuwait, into Iran, hugging the coastline to keep the freezing conditions at bay.

Still over a million. Still marching. While resting and eating in groups along the way. Driven forward by an unexplained atavistic pull. Deeper and deeper into the crowded heart of Asia, through Pakistan and India, and via the Golf Course Road in Gurgaon, stopping for a bite at the Leisure Valley Park.

Finally, from Gurgaon, after walking in the shadow of the mighty Himalayas for over 2,000 km, they crossed the Brahmaputra River into the Kaziranga National Park. And each one of them knelt and plucked and ate a single blade of grass in gratefulness for having made the journey alive. Wimbledon was popular in the Serengeti, and the image of Novak winning his first title there was obviously close to the hearts of the wildebeest.

Not content being mute witnesses, the global human fraternity had set aside wars and conflicts and unilateral takeovers of territory with their sole attention to this drama, attempting to understand it and take credit for it, or blame someone for instigating it.

Their efforts had been rewarded. A tribe in the Serengeti had been found, members of which were able to understand wildebeest language. A few members of this tribe had been embedded with the wildebeest groups unobtrusively, either driving along in a Dodge RAM or Ford Raptor, or hovering in a helicopter where nobody could notice them.

And this unobtrusive attachment had revealed the reason behind this historic move, based on a conversation between a young wildebeest and its grandfather one night, while camping at the Maruti factory in Udyog Vihar.

Young calf: “Grandpa, why are we making this journey?”

Grandfather: “There is a land our grandfathers had spoken about, which they had heard from their grandfathers, and they from theirs, and so on, where the grass grows tall, where rivers wander lazily, and where rain arrives in torrents; where there are great tigers, elephants, alligators, rhinoceroses, and many other wonderful creatures. In that land, a great leader will be born who will improve regional connectivity while ensuring protection of its rich biodiversity.”

Young calf: “Grandpa, is that even possible?”

Grandfather: “I am proud of you. That is a very intelligent question. In the lands where we were born and grew up, we learned to respect nature. We learned that the benefits we take from nature with one hand, nature takes an equivalent back with the other hand. Sometimes we have to take some benefit from nature. While doing so, we humbly acknowledge and accept that nature will take an equivalent back from us in some way.”

Young calf: “But how does that explain anything?”

Grandfather: “Silence! I haven’t finished. But, every once in a while, maybe a millennium, a great leader is born who is taller than the grass and forces nature to not take back an equivalent. Nature gives with one hand, and then with the other. And that, my dear child, is the reason we are here. And here is the proof…” He carefully unfolded a piece of paper. “I have kept it ever since it was dropped in the Masai Mara by an Indian tourist by the name of Arora. In the meeting of elders, it was decided it was time to act, which is why instead of going South to Serengeti, we moved North and landed up here.”

“Building a 35-km elevated corridor by pouring reinforced concrete into the soil, erecting pylons across the plains blocking view and paths, laying out a grid of electric wires, creating noise and atmospheric pollution, destroying wetlands, forests and wildlife habitats all across Kaziranga, maintenance crews running in and out WHILE ensuring protection of Kaziranga National Park’s rich biodiversity AND caring for nature.” The young calf looked at the paper and said excitedly, while filling in some of the blanks in the printed statements. “And surely this means there will be monitoring cameras, preferably AI-driven. Who knows, I might even become viral,” it said shyly, displaying a far-beyond-years maturity and worldly knowledge. “We might even get to taste aerated drinks and fried potatoes that are carelessly thrown by responsible tourists. Who knows, one day we may get a bullet train passing through the park, or an airport, to care even more for nature and ensure even greater protection of Kaziranga National Park’s rich biodiversity. There is no looking back now, is there?”

The grandfather merely smiled indulgently as both of them looked admiringly at the great leader’s visage peeping out from a full-page ad in the Hindustan Times printed on that piece of paper.

PhD in Travel

He proudly says that before he embarks on a journey, the next one, usually less than three months away, has been planned and booked.

His wife says that his bags are ready and packed several weeks before a journey.

I have yet to come across a person who does not like to travel. While physical condition and financial resources may be a constraint, language and food habits may put doubts in the mind about the feasibility, but the desire to travel to new lands and experience new sights, cultures, and people is always there.

Many of us dither and find excuses, but he boldly goes where, if not exactly no man, at least many of us have not been.

He is Rohin Arora, a long-time friend since we joined college in 1982.

Not only is he a meticulous planner, he also maintains accounts of his travel with a researcher-like dedication. I have travelled vicariously through the travel posts he publishes on his website https://rohinarora.com/, which is also the resource I usually refer to people when they ask me for advice on a destination.

And now Mr. Arora has gone one better; he has published a book which is “a collection of short, light-hearted stories that have been gathered from decades of travel around the world.” It is not the usual ‘travel guide’ type that most travel books end up being. Instead, it “celebrates the funny, unpredictable moments that happen around the itinerary…” And he has probably been stocking up on the anecdotes during his several decades of global travel.

I just finished reading it, and here is my Goodreads review of the book, which is titled “From Tuk-Tuks to Lions – A Comedy of Travels.”

If you’d rather jump directly into it, here is the link to the book on Amazon India.

If you do read the book, please don’t forget to leave feedback for Mr. Arora.

Negative Interest

If you work for an Indian bank, you need to ask your manager’s permission for spending your own money.

OK, maybe I generalize. But it is certainly true for employees of IDBI Bank.

How do I know?

Here is how…

The story begins on the 15th of September, 2025, when I took my 84-year-old mother to IDBI Bank in Meerut to instruct them to not auto-renew a Time Deposit (Fixed Deposit – FD) held by her and instead credit the maturity proceeds to her Savings Bank account, as she had some plans for the money. The instructions were given to the bank on the reverse of the FD certificate, which had a section provided for such maturity instructions.

The same evening, by which time I had returned to Gurgaon, my mother called and told me that there was a credit message from the bank. I asked her to forward the message to me and told her that it would be in response to our visit earlier in the day. I did not give it a second thought as I was tied up and promised myself to check soon. It did strike me as odd that the transaction had been done today for an FD maturing the following day.

Could our banks have become so advanced, doing tomorrow’s transactions today? Could it be an unforeseen impact of the all-conquering AI? You never know where the next big thing will emerge from. I marvelled at the great big technological leap banks had taken while I was not looking.

When I did get around to checking the transaction a few days later, I realized that instead of the FD amount being credited along with the interest earned, the amount credited was lower than the principal amount placed by my mother in the FD.

Had the Indian economy, long known for its inflationary tendencies, suddenly turned to negative inflation, a la Japan or the Eurozone a few years back, with banks charging for keeping customer money instead of paying interest on it? As a one-time banker, I was ashamed I had not kept track of developments in banking.

With a one-time banker’s belief in the banking system of always doing the right thing as part of their DNA, I kept looking for reasons that would explain this apparent discrepancy. Not able to find a logical explanation, I did the next unnatural thing, of trying to contact the bank through the numbers on their website and ones I had in my contact list. Don’t laugh! Obviously, nothing got answered.

Not having the flexibility to visit the bank branch again, as I do not live in Meerut, I filed a complaint in the “Raise Fraud/ Dispute” section of their website. Yes, this loophole had been left open on their website. This was around the 20th of September.

And another one, for the dispute did not end up dying in a blind alley of corporate apathy. It resulted in a phone call from the lady to whom the instruction had been handed over on 15th September. Not only that, she could be reached through WhatsApp messaging on the same number.

Talk about weak systems. A dispute raising system that does not send the dispute towards a horrible, lonely end, followed by someone bothering to respond to it. Indian banks have a lot to answer for. Or at least IDBI Bank.

The mystery was solved when the lady called. She told me that instead of being paid on the date of maturity, the FD had been uplifted the day we went to the bank, a day before maturity. What that did was trigger the premature uplift process of the bank, which penalizes the customer for not completing the tenure. And clearly, the bank did not have the systems to prevent a premature uplift one day before the real maturity, despite no such thing being requested by the customer, nor anyone bothering to verify the reason for an 84-year-old woman to lose a significant amount as interest and not wait one day more.

Anyway, after an initial attempt at telling me that it was all our fault since we went to the bank in time to provide updated, legitimate maturity instructions, which were crystal clear, when I did not seem to agree, she admitted that it was an error on the bank’s part and that my mother would be compensated soon.

This was the beginning of a series of pleasant interactions over phone calls and WhatsApp messages, where every few days I would inquire about the non-resolution of the issue, and she would provide a new reason for why it had not been resolved. I think I might have made a recurring weekly calendar entry to check with her why it had not been done so far.

In one of the pleasant conversations, she requested me to withdraw the complaint as she would have to pay for it from her own money as she was the one responsible for the error. I politely told her that I was dealing with IDBI Bank and not her and that I was neither privy to nor responsible for the arrangement between the bank and its employees.

In another pleasant conversation, she introduced a colleague who repeated the request of withdrawing the complaint as they would have to bear the cost from their own money. I politely told them that I’d rather they bear the cost than my 84-year-old mother for no fault of hers.

On 21st October, she messaged, after a call during which I asked her to confirm through a message, “Sir

As conveyed the resolution will be done by 31-10-2025

Regards”

On 31st October she called to tell me that it could not be done by the 31st because the approving manager had not been available and would not be available for another week.

Get it now?

She had to get the manager to approve the payment that she was supposed to make from her own money.

Wink wink! Nudge nudge!

Anyway, I told her that I would do what I needed to. Since a lot of time had passed without any concrete action on their part. On 10th November I filed a complaint (ID N202526016020880) with the integrated banking ombudsman set up by the Reserve Bank of India (RBI).

On 18th November I received a call from her saying the resolution would be done the following day. Her manager, who had been too busy these past two months to speak to me while she was presumably collecting money in her account to pay my mother, came on the line as well to confirm the same.

On 19th November the shortfall was credited to my mother’s account.

Isn’t it great that systems exist to protect the interests of the common man?

Isn’t it awful that these systems need to be resorted to for receiving fair treatment?

Isn’t it even more awful that we have a regulator intent on ensuring that regulated entities do the right thing?

Stoned Birds

To use a video game analogy, a whole new level has opened up.

Thanks to our gifted political leaders, as always.

The common man, used to mundane political promises such as free cows and buffalos (since there is a lot of vacant space in the one-room homes shared by families of 10+ people), a ‘flying boat’ to cross the sea (a flying aeroplane apparently does not cut it), free washing machines (along with hand cranked gensets to produce the required electricity), ₹ 15 lacs for every citizen from the recovery of loot stashed overseas by the rich and famous (no comments), free helicopter rides for village heads (they need aerial views of disaster areas they preside over, a la senior leaders of the nation), and honest politicians (OK I made up this last one), that address the most important issues facing them, has been caught off guard.

The uncommon common man that he is, he has not lost hope. History is his saviour. He knows the fate of all promises made before the elections, addressing important issues.

The unthinkable is about to happen because of the entirely believable, realistic and reasonable promise made by the Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) leader Tejashwi Yadav, a candidate in the forthcoming Bihar assembly elections, of “one government job per family” in Bihar, the seat of glorious empires two millennia back, which many in the current generation believe they deserve to belong to, and often the leader among states in measures related to poverty and corruption. Naturally, Bihar deserves the best; the best political leaders, the best pre-poll promises, the best two-thousand-year-old empires, the works.

The days of poking fun at government jobs and creating memes may come to an abrupt end. At least in Bihar. And rightfully so. With every creative and energetic young person employed in the government, who will be left to make memes and cartoons at the expense of politicians? Even if they did, after the gruelling task of doing nothing for the most part, would they make memes about themselves?

And therein lies the unrecognized greatness of our leaders. Killing two birds with one stone. In Yadav, satirists have met their match.

One of the editorial pieces in the Hindustan Times on 11th October stated that “according to the caste survey conducted by the Bihar government in 2023, the state had 130.7 million people spread across 27.6 million households. Only about two million people held government jobs…”

Based on the number of households, this two million will increase to 27.6 million, a factor of over 13, unless the leader plans mass executions and/ or migrations, not a far-fetched idea considering the state we are talking about.

Further, “In 2025-26, Bihar’s expenditure on salaries is budgeted at ₹ 54,697 crores. If multiplied by a factor of 13 to match the increase in government jobs promised, the spending on salaries alone will go to ₹ 700,000 crore, more than twice the total budget of the state.”

There will be no money for roads and schools and electricity and anything else.

And herein lies the beauty of the promise. He may have killed a third bird as well with that single stone. You need schools and electricity and roads, and anything else, for people who need to go from one place to another to get things done, for people who need utilities and other support services to enable them to work and be productive, for people who need education and learning to compete and add value in their own way to the world they inhabit. In other words, for a striving, energetic, enthusiastic population. With every household holding a government job, why will there be a need for schools and electricity and roads, or anything else? Striving, learning, and competing are so private-sector, are they not?

It is expected to break the back of the mafia, the bugbear of private enterprise in the state. With no private enterprise in the state, since nearly everyone employable is employed in a government job, there is nobody to hold at ransom and demand bribes from in the name of approvals and pushing files. Fourth bird, anyone?

It is believed that even the candidates in the forthcoming elections are looking forward to winning so that they can resign and take up government jobs and stop the lying they need to indulge in as politicians. No work, no need to lie. Simple.  

Murmurs are being heard in the sociological circles that this far-sighted scheme will kill the traditional Indian joint family as well as the institution of marriage. Different generations of families living together will separate so that they can be counted as two family units and get a government job in each unit. Husbands and wives will separate so that they can be counted as separate family units and get a government job in each unit. Bihar can justifiably call itself the most developed society in the world, where every person lives alone.

From the current outlook of 27.6 million government jobs, the number is expected to soon increase to 130 million, the number of people in the state. OK, I exaggerate! Children and retired people may be excluded. 65 million should be a realistic, reasonable number, assuming a person is productive for roughly half the time, excluding childhood and old age. The more the government jobs, the greater the goodness they spread.

I hope you have been counting; the birds killed with that single stone cast by Tejashwi Yadav. I lost count. I suppose my intellectual limitations are evident. It must be tough being a politician and coming up with entirely believable, realistic, and reasonable promises all the time. Stoned birds. Stoned politicians. Stoned common man. Whatever!

This promise has made such an impact that the promise of a rules-based society where talent and hard work are rewarded, which some parties have half-heartedly proposed in the past, is nowhere to be seen or heard.

Who said that Indian voters could be swayed by gimmicks and irrational promises?

What’s The Good Word?

I winced.

It was like a physical blow to the solar plexus.

“Why? Why? Why?” I shrieked. “Will this injustice ever end? Are we forever doomed to live in a world without a moral compass, without the ability to separate the wheat from the chaff, without the sense to distinguish between good and bad?”

How did we get here?

I read the message once again. Maybe I had made a mistake in reading it.

“Can someone refer me to a good ophthalmologist?”

There it was again. In black and white, in the messaging group of the residents of the housing society I live in. There could be no mistake about any letter in the entire sentence.

Just the previous week another request had taken me several days to come to terms with. “I need a good cook. Can someone help?”

And yet another one before that, “Looking for a good hotel in Nainital. If anyone knows one please DM me.”

What is happening?

Whatever happened to equal opportunity?

Our favourite global corporations long ago committed to creating a diverse and inclusive workplace and consider all qualified applicants for employment without regard to race, colour, religion, gender, gender identity or expression, sexual orientation, national origin, genetics, disability, age, or veteran status.

On deeper examination, this promise rings hollow. What about capability? What about quality of work? What about bad workers?

Should this pledge not be updated to: “…creating a diverse and inclusive workplace and consider all qualified applicants for employment without regard to race, colour, religion, gender, gender identity or expression, sexual orientation, national origin, genetics, disability, age, or veteran status, CAPABILITY, AND QUALITY OF WORK?”

What about us?

As responsible members of the community, should we not be doing the same? Should we not be seeking bad ophthalmologists and bad cooks and bad hotels in Nainital? Who is going to look out for them if not us?

My heart went out to all the bad, or even average, ophthalmologists in the world, who would be sitting in their clinics trying to look important and busy, without a single patient to “see.”

Just like I had descended into a funk, worrying about all the bad cooks in the world and what they would be doing since nobody wanted them. People only wanted good cooks.

But where exactly are these bad ophthalmologists and bad cooks? And what are they doing, since nobody seems to want them? Do they already populate a Twilight Zone where they scroll through TikTok videos and important life lessons given by other bad ophthalmologists and bad cooks masquerading as gurus?

That makes me wonder what the bad hotels in Nainital are doing.

I got distracted by a phone call from a good friend who said he was having dinner with a good friend of his at a good restaurant close to my house and asked if I would like to join. “He is known to give good investment advice,” he probably dangled as a carrot to get me to join and foot the bill.

Having been a banker in an earlier life, I have interacted with many money managers who gave good investment advice. In fact, some even gave great investment advice. But the difference between good and great, I presume, is not much. I make that contention based on good experience. Whether following the good advice or the great one, my investments never amounted to much. Some even turned out to be in good Ponzi schemes. At least the difference between good and great is not as much as between good and bad. But this is only a good guess, since I have never received anything but good investment advice.

I evaded the invitation and went for dinner with my wife to a good dosa restaurant close to our house.

“I am doing good” is what my cousin in the US said when I called her after the good dosa dinner to check on her evolving plans for visiting India in December and asked how she was doing. It was what I expected. After all, I called her after checking if it was a good time to call her.

Such a good, nuanced, evocative word. I don’t know why some people have a problem with it. When I asked some of my good neighbours what they meant by a good hotel in Nainital, it was clear what they meant. Some wanted the hotel building to be grand. Some wanted it to have nooks and corners for memorable pictures. Some wanted it to be located on an island. Some wanted it to be located on a mountain top. Some wanted it to be in a remote and inaccessible location. Some wanted it to be on the main street. Some wanted it to be spotlessly clean. Some wanted the flexibility to make a mess in it. Some wanted a throbbing, lively, busy place. Some wanted elegant, hushed environs.

And there is only one word that can convey all this, and mean the same thing to everyone. You guessed it. That is good! Just another four-letter word.

Meanwhile, suffering from workplace stress, Google has threatened to leave people searching for anything with the adjective “good” in the hands of Bing.

Is bad the new good? Or is good the new bad? Which way, I am good with both.

It is time for me to hit the sack for a good night’s sleep.

Shooting the breeze

In a first, Delhi has issued a directive under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986 making the installation and operation of anti-smog guns on specified high-rise buildings across the city mandatory, an initiative taken to counter air pollution in the city. These are mandated to be used throughout the year, except the monsoons when rain keeps atmospheric pollutants in check.

How does this modern technology work? It is a large fan that throws air charged with tiny water droplets into the great void of the atmosphere, in an effort to trap particles of pollutants strutting about in the air and bring them crashing down to earth. A ‘takedown’ or ‘body slam’ anyone with a determined particle of pollution?

And this is what it might look like (image from an India Today article) :

Demonstrating sensitivity to real issues unusual for a leading politician, it has been mandated that the smog guns are to be operated intermittently during peak pollution hours, that is from 6:30 am to 9:30 am, then 5:30 pm to 8:30 pm, and after that 1:30 am to 4:30 am—in short bursts to maximize effectiveness and conserve electricity and water. Overall, the operation must not exceed 1,200 litres per hour or 10,000 litres over an eight-hour day. Further, the equipment should have minimal sound output from blowers.

And since the benefit of people cannot be done any other way, these measures have been announced under the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the able guidance of Chief Minister Rekha Gupta. Even staunch critics will be forced to admit that the measure is people-friendly, with its emphasis on consuming needless water and energy, but limited operating hours to conserve electricity and water, and on adding to noise pollution with big blowers but in a reduced way through equipment that may not be in existence.

Human ingenuity needs to be deployed when nature plays spoilsport, and who better than political leaders to take the lead. When vehicles produce emissions, it is nature’s job to consume it so that humans don’t get impacted. Similarly, what are builders to do when construction sites create a health hazard in the form of dust and grime? Factories, especially unauthorized ones, will produce pollutants and leaches and runoffs. Show us an unauthorized factory anywhere in the world that does not. If other nations don’t have unauthorized factories or uncontrolled vehicular emissions or unmanaged construction sites, it is their problem. What can we do? How will they tackle atmospheric pollution if they don’t have it?

By not curbing either vehicles, or construction activity, or factories, especially unauthorized ones, for the first time Delhi has acted with legal clarity to curb pollution at its source, when it has been produced and is about to impact human beings.

Buildings with 7 and 10 storeys are considered optimal for generating effective ground-level mist dispersion. Under the direction of senior leaders, localities such as Vasant Kunj and Sarita Vihar, which only have 3-storey buildings, have been asked to go on a construction spree, and build 7-10 storey buildings so that they create pollution which can be controlled through the anti-smog guns. We owe it to the nation-building manufacturers of these guns to ensure there is enough demand for the otherwise not required equipment which they have committed to the Prime Minister to manufacture under the Make in India scheme, at steep discomfort and profit for themselves.

Alarmed by the rash of fall-related injury cases coming to city hospitals, the Health Ministry launched an investigation and traced the sudden increase to the harmful effect of tiny water droplets hitting the ground and creating conditions for people to skid and injure themselves. Under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, it has mandated the placement of moisture and water-droplet absorbing mats in front of the anti-smog guns so that the harmful effect of their droplets hitting the ground and creating conditions for people to skid and injure themselves can be controlled as soon as it is shot from the gun. This has been announced under the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the able guidance of Chief Minister Rekha Gupta. Another set of nation-builders, or are they the same, have put their hand up, to make these mats at steep discomfort and profit for themselves.

Meanwhile, alarmed by the shortage of drinking water in the city. The Water Ministry launched an investigation and traced the unforeseen shortage to certain new uses of water, one of them being the 10,000 litres per day consumed by each anti-smog gun. The Water Ministry has issued a directive under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, making it illegal to use potable water for any purpose other than human consumption and crop irrigation. Only water unfit for human consumption is to be used for these guns. This has been announced under the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the able guidance of Chief Minister Rekha Gupta. Nation builders have put up their hand to convert potable water to filthy water unfit for human consumption that could be used for the anti-smog guns. This is expected to be a mega-project requiring fundamental research as there is no record of this having been done anywhere else in the world on an industrial scale. Till these dreams of the nation become a reality, Yamuna water, unfit for any purpose known, or likely to be known, to mankind, is to be used.

Alarmed by a rise in cases of skin rashes, the Health Ministry launched an investigation again and traced the sudden increase to the polluted water being used in the anti-smog guns. The Home Ministry also got involved on account of the complaints of foul smell everywhere in the city. Under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, the two ministries have mandated a work-from-home policy for occupants of all buildings where anti-smog guns have been deployed for their protection from atmospheric pollution. This has been announced under the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the able guidance of Chief Minister Rekha Gupta. Another set of nation-builders are believed to be exploring options of how to contribute to the city and nation in their time of need when office-goers work from home while anti-smog guns, and moisture absorbent mats, keep them safe from atmospheric pollution in buildings they are not in.

Meanwhile, in order to ensure the availability of power to the nation-builders who have put up plants to manufacture the essential for mankind anti-smog guns, and moisture-absorbing mats, the Power Ministry, under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986, has put a ban on the use of power for other non-essential industrial purposes such as the operation of anti-smog guns. This has been announced under the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the able guidance of Chief Minister Rekha Gupta.

Having stayed abreast of developments, as any smart government should, Delhi has issued an addendum to the original directive under the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986 making the operation of anti-smog guns mandatory during the monsoons when pollutants are at their lowest levels. The addendum has also prohibited the use of these guns during the rest of the year.

Experts agree that this is only a localised solution and does not inhibit the generation of pollutants. This, they also agree, demonstrates the seriousness of the government in tackling the issue.