The safe road can actually be the risky road. This is something I have tried to follow in my many years in advertising when marketers wanted to tread the trodden, be safe, do what has been tried and tested. My submission has always been that if you walk on someone else’s footsteps, you leave none of your own. If you travel the road less travelled, chances are that you might be on to something and someone, somewhere will stop, turn around and look at what you are doing. By making your own footsteps, you tend to stand apart from the crowd and often end up creating something new and unique.
Oftentimes, people disregard this dictum, and then weeks and months later wonder what went wrong. Why something that should have taken the world by storm, turned out to be little more than a storm in the proverbial tea cup ... if that. If only people had the guts to risk a little bit more. History is made by people who tread off into the unknown, with little more than a flicker of hope and a dream. Of course, I am not suggesting fanciful wishes with little in terms of an edifice. What is required is a solid foundation, a well thought out and articulated plan, a measured plan of action, with each step a concerted one, deliberated upon, with safety clauses in place. The world is full of people trying to make a better mousetrap. Even if you come up one (which is yet to happen) you will still remain number two.
How many things have really changed the world? Not many. The wheel, many centuries ago. Electricity. Now the internet and mobile telephony. The computer has not changed much from three decades or so ago. Sure, it has become faster, but what changed the way we use computers was Apple. The Macintosh and Desktop Publishing changed the world. DOS gave way to Windows. With all the advances in science and technology over the past hundred years, little path breaking inventions have happened.
Let us all try and be entrepreneurs and not traders.
Another analogy to the Safe/Risky story is Cheap/Expensive. Save a penny to lose a pound. Compromises. Cost cutting. Finding the cheaper alternative. For many of us this is how we live our lives. And I not talking about those who believe in conspicuous consumption, that is different story. I am talking about our professional lives ... and sometimes the choices we make in our personal lives. A shirt worth Rs 100 will not look as good or last as long as a short that costs Rs 500. The latter will make you look better and last more than five times the duration. Not a good idea.
I have been filming lately for a television series and given budget constraints have had to be ‘creative’ in spending. And I have just accepted (I realised some time ago) that a lot of what I have already shot is just not good enough and I have to re-shoot. Expensive. Time and money. Both that could have been better spent. If only one had invested a little more time and money in the initial stages all this heartache could have been avoided. Lesson learned. Cheap can actually turn out to be quite expensive. One might get over extended in the short run, by in the long haul, it is money well spent, it ends up showing in the final product and ultimately it pays back. German engineering versus third world assembly lines. And the end consumer gladly forks out a premium for better quality. Quality that is ensured by not being cheap in the first place.
Being cheap, more often than not, turns out to be more expensive in the long run. Like being safe actually becomes risky as you travel down the road. So be aware of the pitfalls and make the right choices, take the correct decisions, even if it means going off the beaten path, even if it means scraping the bottom of the barrel. There is no shortcut to any place worth going, but then the road to a friend’s place is never too long. There is a friend waiting at the end of the road, do not short change him!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Outside the comfort zone...
Over the past many years that I have been travelling, often I have travelled in a group. Though my personal preference is to ride off on my own, often that situation turns into a group trip with friends and acquaintances joining me for the trip. And in all these trips the group is outside of their comfort zones. While in the city, we know what the day will bring. If there are speedbreakers or potholes on the way, we know how to handle them. We have friends and family to call on. We have our peer group to tell us what to do. We can pick up the phone and ask for help or advice or suggestions or just cry our heart out. But very often when we travel, we are outside the relatively cushioned existence of every day life, away from friends and family, away from ‘Friends’, with no one to call for help or support or succour.
I have faced this many times. Group dynamics has a life of its own and individual idiosyncrasies come out like never before. The facade comes off, the inner self surfaces and misunderstandings emerge, friendships are called to question and sometimes, unfortunately, relationships break down. All because we cannot deal with the environment to the best of our ability.
I am as much to blame since often, as the Shepherd of the team, I cannot keep my own emotions in check. I am human too and I have my own thoughts, prejudices and opinions. Opinions that take on an aggressive tone due to fatigue, hunger, thirst, lethargy, anticipation, exultation and all of them combined. I, who should know better about being outside of our comfort zones and the tricks it plays on our minds, have to be able to cope better. Yet, I do not, and often I become the centre of controversy. What can be a meaningful discussion while waiting for the food to be served, soon turns into an argument for no reason and the atmosphere gets vitiated for no good reason at all. Not that I do not stand by my opinions, but the way they are expressed leave a lot to be desired. After spending almost half a century on this planet, almost a majority of those years travelling, I should certainly know better.
Travelling is about understanding, about camaraderie, about companionship. It is about spending 24 hours a days looking at the private selves of each team member. In the city we are mostly exposed to what others want us to see. In the wilderness, it is all out in the open ... bare, naked, exposed. For those who are venturing out for the first time, it is expected, but I should know better. Every one has the right to have an opinion, as do I, and we need to respect that. If experience has taught us something and the recipient of that thought is not absorbent enough to grasp it, we need to learn to let go. After all, even I did not listen to my parents when I was younger. I made my mistakes and have learned from many of them. I continue to make mistakes and I suspect will continue to make them well into the future. Every person has a right to make mistakes and to learn from them. What we old fogies do not realise is that we cannot expect to expect others to do what we did not at their age. Let them make their mistakes and learn from them. All we can do is share a guiding light. It is others who have to take the torch and light their own paths ... if they so wish.
Some mistakes can be costly, but those are not what I am talking about. I am talking about opinions, what seems right and what seems wrong, what could be considered ill mannered by some but perfectly legitimate action by others. All these are very subjective and change with age, environment, generation, circumstances, etc. Let people be. Every generation has changed the world in some way or the other. Some would say for the better, some would disagree. But change is inevitable. And when the change becomes destructive, revolution happens. When change is positive, history is written. In my opinion more destruction has happened in the last hundred years than in all of previous history. In my opinion, a revolution is in the offing. Many will disagree, as is their right. But when we are outside of our comfort zones, these debates or arguments or discussions should not turn into animosity between individuals.
Something I am still learning.
I have faced this many times. Group dynamics has a life of its own and individual idiosyncrasies come out like never before. The facade comes off, the inner self surfaces and misunderstandings emerge, friendships are called to question and sometimes, unfortunately, relationships break down. All because we cannot deal with the environment to the best of our ability.
I am as much to blame since often, as the Shepherd of the team, I cannot keep my own emotions in check. I am human too and I have my own thoughts, prejudices and opinions. Opinions that take on an aggressive tone due to fatigue, hunger, thirst, lethargy, anticipation, exultation and all of them combined. I, who should know better about being outside of our comfort zones and the tricks it plays on our minds, have to be able to cope better. Yet, I do not, and often I become the centre of controversy. What can be a meaningful discussion while waiting for the food to be served, soon turns into an argument for no reason and the atmosphere gets vitiated for no good reason at all. Not that I do not stand by my opinions, but the way they are expressed leave a lot to be desired. After spending almost half a century on this planet, almost a majority of those years travelling, I should certainly know better.
Travelling is about understanding, about camaraderie, about companionship. It is about spending 24 hours a days looking at the private selves of each team member. In the city we are mostly exposed to what others want us to see. In the wilderness, it is all out in the open ... bare, naked, exposed. For those who are venturing out for the first time, it is expected, but I should know better. Every one has the right to have an opinion, as do I, and we need to respect that. If experience has taught us something and the recipient of that thought is not absorbent enough to grasp it, we need to learn to let go. After all, even I did not listen to my parents when I was younger. I made my mistakes and have learned from many of them. I continue to make mistakes and I suspect will continue to make them well into the future. Every person has a right to make mistakes and to learn from them. What we old fogies do not realise is that we cannot expect to expect others to do what we did not at their age. Let them make their mistakes and learn from them. All we can do is share a guiding light. It is others who have to take the torch and light their own paths ... if they so wish.
Some mistakes can be costly, but those are not what I am talking about. I am talking about opinions, what seems right and what seems wrong, what could be considered ill mannered by some but perfectly legitimate action by others. All these are very subjective and change with age, environment, generation, circumstances, etc. Let people be. Every generation has changed the world in some way or the other. Some would say for the better, some would disagree. But change is inevitable. And when the change becomes destructive, revolution happens. When change is positive, history is written. In my opinion more destruction has happened in the last hundred years than in all of previous history. In my opinion, a revolution is in the offing. Many will disagree, as is their right. But when we are outside of our comfort zones, these debates or arguments or discussions should not turn into animosity between individuals.
Something I am still learning.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Tell me how to spend Rs 32 a day?
Given that most of India lives in the villages and the avenues for conspicuous consumption are relatively non existent, I do not find this figure to be particularly revolting. I have tried to draw an analogy with one of the few things I profess to know about ... living off the grid. Consequently I have been trying not so much to try and live with less than Rs 32 a day, but trying to figure out ways and means of spending Rs 32 a day. Allow me to explain myself.
Living off the grid means that you are not dependent on the amenities and luxuries of the city. There are no electricity bills to pay, no gas to put in the tank, no LPG cylinder to cook your food. What does a person need not just to survive, but to live a relatively healthy and peaceful life? Three square meals a day, a roof over the head and clothes for vanity. OK, now to draw examples from living off the grid.
Let us take a roof over the head first. When one is living off the grid, one can devise a roof over the head using the materials Nature provides. All one needs is some logs, some branches, some leaves and some other natural vegetative debris that is always in abundance on the forest floor. Pine needles for a mattress, leaves for waterproofing and nice thick logs for protection. So shelter is done.
We come to three square meals a day. Actually one can learn to live on less than three squares a day, but let’s leave that debate aside for later. We eat too much in any case and all of us could do with a bit of moderation as far as food is concerned. Be that as it may, let us still look at three square meals a day. Nature provides for it in plenty. There are fruits on the trees, rice and wheat that you can grow, and animal protein in plenty. In the city we have conditioned ourselves to be right at the top of the food chain. In a self reliant situation, we are a part of the food chain. I am yet to meet or hear of a person ... or indeed any member of the animal kingdom ... who kills more than what is absolutely necessary to provide for the herd and family. This has been true ever since Plant Earth was inhabited by living creatures. It is we humans who like to stock up way more than what we require. There is food in plenty and no one in the wilderness need go hungry unless they are either infirm or old, therefore not fit enough to provide for himself or herself.
Along with food comes water. The human body comprises of two thirds part fluid and we cannot survive for more than a couple of days without water. As long as you are living off the grid with a water source close by and a means of making it potable, you are good to go. In fact, our bodies have become so immune to natural remedies that we cannot even think of ingesting even one drop of contaminated water. Over generations, and with increasing civilisation, we have tuned our bodies to be dependent of external healing. The natural process of healing has almost entirely been eroded.
That leaves clothes, the third pole of the Necessity Trinity. We need clothes to protect our privacy, to hide our shame, to prevent people from measuring lengths and cup sizes. But out there, living off the grid, who gives a flying f***. Even so, clothes are there to be tailored from animal skin. After all humans have worn animal skin clothes since the time of the first Neanderthals. Personally, clothes can be a bit of a luxury.
So, come to think of it, we do not really need a fancy house with a four car garage. We can do without the branded clothes, the fancy footwear and glittering eye glasses. And the jungle provides a four course gourmet meal if we are agreeable to becoming hunters, gatherers and chefs rolled into one.
Sure it will be difficult. But we can make life a lot easier by carrying our tents, our knives, our machetes, our fire starters, and a whole lot of stuff to help us do the things that need to be done in the jungle. But the tent will shred in time, the knives will blunt, the fire starters will get lost or outlive its utility. Then we are on our own. Hopefully by the time such a situation arises, one would have learned to make stone knives, stone tools, starting a fire by rubbing branches together and eating of a nice big flat piece of rock, which also acts as the hot plate on the camp fire.
After all this penning of thoughts, I am still not clear as to how I would manage to spend the allotted Rs 32 a day. OK, I will buy some seeds to grow my paddy and my rice and my potatoes. But after the first harvest I do not need to buy seeds either. If I can manage to live off the grid in an unfrequented area, not destroyed by previous agriculture, I will not need any fertilisers either for the farm. I would not need to rush to the store to pick up stuff. How do I spend Rs 32 a day living off the grid, pray tell.
And for those who say that one aspect I have entirely overlooked is educating the children, I have only one thing to say. I would rather have my children living off the land and respecting all living things, not destroying the environment by using a whole lot of polluting gadgets, not waste their time in frivolous and addictive activities like Facebook and email and blogging, they will grow up just fine. They will not crib about the air conditioner being on the blink or the rising price of oil. They will wonder why anyone would even consider bringing ‘democracy’ to a place that as a civilisation is thousands of years older than their own. All they need is an education is on frugality and in respect, for fellow living things, the environment and the planet we call home.
Someone do enlighten me on how to spend Rs 32 a day, every day. I will be obliged.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Silent Bells and Whispering Wishes
Since independence in 1947, India has fought wars in 1948, 1962, 1965, 1971 and 1999. Over the past six decades and more, India has also fought a lot of proxy wars – against insurgents, against terrorists, against militants and against separatists. Indian soldiers have also been part of peacekeeping forces around the world and have gained a reputation of being among the finest and most efficient troops in the world.
In the course of these wars, Indian soldiers have died. Almost 20,000 men in uniform have laid down their lives in the service of the nation, to protect its sovereignty. Unfortunately, we as Indians leave much to be desired at least as far as remembering the sacrifices of these selfless individuals, who made the supreme sacrifice, by laying down their lives and dying to protect the flag they had sworn to protect.
These brave soldiers deserve better. They deserve to be remembered by more than their grieving families. We as a nation owe them at least that much. Not many of us would have witnessed the funeral service of a fallen US soldier. The formal military escort accompanying the mortal remains, the flag draped over the coffin, the folding and presentation of the flag to the next of kin, the peeling away of an aircraft from formation signifying a lost comrade in arms, the dress uniforms, the sheer gratitude of a thankful nation, enough to bring on a lump in the throat and tears to the eyes. This is why the phrase God Bless America resonates so much more than Mera Bharat Mahan, a phrase that seems to have lost all meaning.
Every fallen British soldier is remembered in Parliament. The Prime Minister writes a personal letter to the next of kin of every fallen soldier. Unfortunately in India, we do not even have adequate government representation in solemn moments like Victory Day, or at the funeral of fallen soldiers. The wreaths we lay at India Gate in New Delhi commemorate the Indian soldiers who died fighting for the British Indian Army during the Anglo Afghan War and the First World War. We, after six decades of independence and at least five declared wars and countless proxy wars, are yet to have a memorial honouring those who dies fighting for the country.
Let us not be an ungrateful nation. Let the words of the fallen soldiers mean something to all of us. They died fighting for our country. Fighting for our sovereignty. They fight and fall so that we can live in peace. Let not another soldier fall on the battlefield, wondering if he died in vain. He gave up his today for our tomorrow. Let us grant him the honour he deserves for that supreme sacrifice. Jai Jawan is not just another slogan. It stands for all the soldiers in arms and in uniform, fighting for and willing to die for the nation. How many of us can put our hands on our hearts and say we can live up to that same ideal?
The bells shall ring again. They shall ring and resonate and each shrill note will herald the sacrifice of the men and women in uniform who laid down their lives to grant us the peace we take so much for granted. As long as the sun is shining and the wind is blowing, the bells will continue to ring, reminding us of our solemn duty to never forget the soldiers in arms.
Jai Hind and Jai Jawan.
In the course of these wars, Indian soldiers have died. Almost 20,000 men in uniform have laid down their lives in the service of the nation, to protect its sovereignty. Unfortunately, we as Indians leave much to be desired at least as far as remembering the sacrifices of these selfless individuals, who made the supreme sacrifice, by laying down their lives and dying to protect the flag they had sworn to protect.
These brave soldiers deserve better. They deserve to be remembered by more than their grieving families. We as a nation owe them at least that much. Not many of us would have witnessed the funeral service of a fallen US soldier. The formal military escort accompanying the mortal remains, the flag draped over the coffin, the folding and presentation of the flag to the next of kin, the peeling away of an aircraft from formation signifying a lost comrade in arms, the dress uniforms, the sheer gratitude of a thankful nation, enough to bring on a lump in the throat and tears to the eyes. This is why the phrase God Bless America resonates so much more than Mera Bharat Mahan, a phrase that seems to have lost all meaning.
Every fallen British soldier is remembered in Parliament. The Prime Minister writes a personal letter to the next of kin of every fallen soldier. Unfortunately in India, we do not even have adequate government representation in solemn moments like Victory Day, or at the funeral of fallen soldiers. The wreaths we lay at India Gate in New Delhi commemorate the Indian soldiers who died fighting for the British Indian Army during the Anglo Afghan War and the First World War. We, after six decades of independence and at least five declared wars and countless proxy wars, are yet to have a memorial honouring those who dies fighting for the country.
Let us not be an ungrateful nation. Let the words of the fallen soldiers mean something to all of us. They died fighting for our country. Fighting for our sovereignty. They fight and fall so that we can live in peace. Let not another soldier fall on the battlefield, wondering if he died in vain. He gave up his today for our tomorrow. Let us grant him the honour he deserves for that supreme sacrifice. Jai Jawan is not just another slogan. It stands for all the soldiers in arms and in uniform, fighting for and willing to die for the nation. How many of us can put our hands on our hearts and say we can live up to that same ideal?
The bells shall ring again. They shall ring and resonate and each shrill note will herald the sacrifice of the men and women in uniform who laid down their lives to grant us the peace we take so much for granted. As long as the sun is shining and the wind is blowing, the bells will continue to ring, reminding us of our solemn duty to never forget the soldiers in arms.
Jai Hind and Jai Jawan.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Would I rather be in a desert or a salt flat?
Interesting question. Both are deserts really. What is a desert? A desert is an area that receives extremely low rainfall. In fact, in many deserts, the water evaporated is more or faster than the amount of rainfall leading to arid areas which do not support the growth of plants or provide a habitat for animals. Well, not unless they are extremely adapted to those conditions and are truly hardy, able to survive in the unforgiving and harsh conditions. Negligible cloud cover, the sun’s rays beats down with relentless intensity, scorching the surface. And almost the moment the sun sets, bone numbing cold sets in. The difference in day and night temperatures in the desert can be nearly 50 degrees Celsius. Considering that only a fourth of the Earth’s surface is land, almost a fifth of that land mass comprises desert. Of course these include the polar deserts and the high mountains. So the chances of an adventurer finding himself or herself lost in either a desert or a salt flats is quite high.
Where I would rather be lost and find myself struggling to survive? Let us first look at what the two geographies have to offer.
The desert has almost no vegetation, almost no trees, some scrubs and bushes, intense temperatures, and most importantly, almost no water. The two things that kill in the desert are the intense heat and the lack of water. You can die in about a day, lost in the desert. The trick is to conserve your body fluids and internal moisture content, hunker down in a shade throughout the day, not move, not eat, and do all the walking and navigating at night when the weather is a lot cooler and the brain is not getting fried. It might still kill you though, the desert is unforgiving, almost with a vengeance.
Now if this was not harsh enough, what does a salt flat have in store? Everything that the desert has ... and more. Lesser vegetation than one can find in the desert for one. Which means no shade to talk about to sit and rest under. Sit? It is a salt flat. Meaning that the ground is full of salt. And most salt flats are wet and soggy. Which means trying to find a dry spot to sit becomes so much more, well, impossible. And even though the ground is wet, the water is not good to drink. You can die of dehydration faster by drinking salt water than not drinking any water at all. It takes two litres of fresh water to dilute one litre of salt water.
But compared to the desert, water is available ... salt water. And you can make a solar still to purify some drinking water to be able to stay hydrated. Inland salt lakes are often fed by fresh water rivers. If you know where you are lost and know the geography of the area, you might be able to head towards the river ... and rescue. In a salt lake fed by the sea, this option is not there.
The problem will be to find a place to rest and to find natural material to make a shelter. You will probably have to dig out some waterproof material from your pack to sit/lie on, and pull out some more stuff like a tarp sheet to build a roof to cut out the direct rays of the sun.
Both in the desert and in the salt flat, there is almost nothing to navigate to aid your journey forward, no distant trees to head for, or a hill or a lake or a pond or vegetation, nothing. The desert might have an undulating terrain, the salt flats none at all.
It is as difficult to walk on sand as it is to walk on slushy salt lake beds.
Suffice it to say, both are natural born killers, waiting like a spider for the fly to come into its parlour! But given a choice, where would I rather be lost? Tough question. Considering that water is life and even a cup of drinking water can mean one more night trying to get out of the problem, I think I would choose the salt flat.
But before I head anywhere near a salt flat, I will ensure that I am extremely well prepared in case I get into a survival situation. I will gear myself up with the tools that will help keep me alive. A couple of tarp sheets, a small tent, water containers, water purifying tablets, sun hat, goggles, good boots ... and a map of the area – printed as well as loaded on to my GPS.
Remember the 7 Ps of wilderness survival – Proper Planning Preparation and Practice prevents Possible problems. And when one is heading out consciously into a problem terrain, every grain of sand and every grain of dissolved salt, is a potential killer. Be prepared.
(The most famous of salt lakes/flats in India is the Rann of Kutch. A lesser known one is about 60 km northwest of Jaipur, the Sambhar Lake)
Where I would rather be lost and find myself struggling to survive? Let us first look at what the two geographies have to offer.
The desert has almost no vegetation, almost no trees, some scrubs and bushes, intense temperatures, and most importantly, almost no water. The two things that kill in the desert are the intense heat and the lack of water. You can die in about a day, lost in the desert. The trick is to conserve your body fluids and internal moisture content, hunker down in a shade throughout the day, not move, not eat, and do all the walking and navigating at night when the weather is a lot cooler and the brain is not getting fried. It might still kill you though, the desert is unforgiving, almost with a vengeance.
Now if this was not harsh enough, what does a salt flat have in store? Everything that the desert has ... and more. Lesser vegetation than one can find in the desert for one. Which means no shade to talk about to sit and rest under. Sit? It is a salt flat. Meaning that the ground is full of salt. And most salt flats are wet and soggy. Which means trying to find a dry spot to sit becomes so much more, well, impossible. And even though the ground is wet, the water is not good to drink. You can die of dehydration faster by drinking salt water than not drinking any water at all. It takes two litres of fresh water to dilute one litre of salt water.
But compared to the desert, water is available ... salt water. And you can make a solar still to purify some drinking water to be able to stay hydrated. Inland salt lakes are often fed by fresh water rivers. If you know where you are lost and know the geography of the area, you might be able to head towards the river ... and rescue. In a salt lake fed by the sea, this option is not there.
The problem will be to find a place to rest and to find natural material to make a shelter. You will probably have to dig out some waterproof material from your pack to sit/lie on, and pull out some more stuff like a tarp sheet to build a roof to cut out the direct rays of the sun.
Both in the desert and in the salt flat, there is almost nothing to navigate to aid your journey forward, no distant trees to head for, or a hill or a lake or a pond or vegetation, nothing. The desert might have an undulating terrain, the salt flats none at all.
It is as difficult to walk on sand as it is to walk on slushy salt lake beds.
Suffice it to say, both are natural born killers, waiting like a spider for the fly to come into its parlour! But given a choice, where would I rather be lost? Tough question. Considering that water is life and even a cup of drinking water can mean one more night trying to get out of the problem, I think I would choose the salt flat.
But before I head anywhere near a salt flat, I will ensure that I am extremely well prepared in case I get into a survival situation. I will gear myself up with the tools that will help keep me alive. A couple of tarp sheets, a small tent, water containers, water purifying tablets, sun hat, goggles, good boots ... and a map of the area – printed as well as loaded on to my GPS.
Remember the 7 Ps of wilderness survival – Proper Planning Preparation and Practice prevents Possible problems. And when one is heading out consciously into a problem terrain, every grain of sand and every grain of dissolved salt, is a potential killer. Be prepared.
(The most famous of salt lakes/flats in India is the Rann of Kutch. A lesser known one is about 60 km northwest of Jaipur, the Sambhar Lake)
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A Tribute to the first Indian 'Rambo' - my father!
Malay Lahiri went on to join the Gurkha Regiment, represented India in many an international football tournament and then by some cruel quirk of fate missed out on being selected for the 1960 Olympic football team. Demoralised, he kicked a football around for a few more years before putting his all into his career in the Indian Army.
In 1963 he was selected to attend the Rangers Course in Fort Bragg, North Carolina and a few months later after passing out from there, became the first India Green Beret, a la Rambo. He then went on to start the Commando Wing for the Indian Army.
Many years later, when he was a Brigadier, he commanded the Counter Insurgency and Jungle Warfare School, that is today a premier institution for the training of soldiers for counter insurgency and jungle warfare, getting soldiers from the world over.
I had the privilege of participating in a few of the jungle treks and other maneuvers while he was the Commandant.
I think the jungles, the mountains, the outback, the bush, the inhospitable terrain away from the comforts of city life was something that grew in me through my association with my Father, whose shoes are so big that attempting to fill them is an exercise in futility. But I do try and walk in his shadow, try and follow his footsteps, hope that he is not too disappointed with the way his first born turned out.
The OTA Survival School is a humble effort on my part to prove myself to be a worthy son to an illustrious father. Two days ago he would have celebrated his 80th birthday. Sadly it was not to be as he passed away prematurely to cancer 15 years ago.
I miss you dad.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
I need some sanitary napkins
Yes, I am a guy. And no, don't get any ideas. But I do really need some sanitary napkins. Something I picked up from a very close friend the other evening. He got me thinking (yeah, he is a guy too) and now I cannot do without a packet of sanitary napkins in my pack.
Before you start getting any ideas, let me put your mind at rest before it goes into overdrive thinking of a million perverted reasons why I would want to keep sanitary napkins and what's my sudden obsession with them.
Well, as you probably know I run a wilderness survival school. Also urban survival training and first aid training. And that is where I learned of this wonderful new usage for sanitary napkins. I wonder why I did not think of it before. In fact, I was speaking to my daughter the other day and telling her to try and open her mind to look at things differently, to find new ways to use existing things. For all my talk, I failed to see the obvious use of sanitary napkins.
IT IS A WONDERFUL PIECE OF FIRST AID EQUIPMENT TO STOP BLEEDING.
An arterial wound can kill you. The blood will spurt out thick and fast and you lose a lot of blood very very quickly. A loss of one liter can put the body in shock, a loss of two liters and you are in extreme danger. Three liters of blood less in your body and you are dead. So the bleeding has to be stopped with whatever means possible.
One way to stop bleeding and that is what we have been doing for so long is to use cotton or gauze. But an arterial wound requires a lot of rolls of cotton to stem the bleeding. Soon the cotton will be wet and soggy, requiring more and more cotton.
A sanitary napkin is designed to absorb blood. And if the advertisements are to be believed, they can absorb blood indefinitely and copious amounts of it. The blood will not seep, I think it gels inside the napkin. And when we are talking of arterial bleeding we are talking of a lot of blood. Apart from what the manufacturers and inventors designed it for, how best can we use a sanitary napkin for? So the bleeding is not from the area that it was made for. So what. A sanitary napkin in my first aid will do the job of maybe half a dozen cotton rolls.
Survival is about improvisation. It is about being open to ideas. It is a taking decisions probably not listed in any book. One needs to survive and one needs to do the best possible, with the given resources. A sanitary napkin in my first aid kit is a boon. Another lesson learned.
This example just goes to show that there is no end to learning. The definite book on survival is yet to be written. Every log, every branch, every brook, pond and river, every grain of sand in the harsh desert landscape can and will continue to teach us newer and better ways to survive. The effort and the learnings continue.
So, till such time as someone does not invent a better blood absorbent, dump a pack of sanitary napkins into your first aid kit. I hope you never ever have to put it to the test in a real life emergency situation though. Have a safe life in the wilderness.
Before you start getting any ideas, let me put your mind at rest before it goes into overdrive thinking of a million perverted reasons why I would want to keep sanitary napkins and what's my sudden obsession with them.
Well, as you probably know I run a wilderness survival school. Also urban survival training and first aid training. And that is where I learned of this wonderful new usage for sanitary napkins. I wonder why I did not think of it before. In fact, I was speaking to my daughter the other day and telling her to try and open her mind to look at things differently, to find new ways to use existing things. For all my talk, I failed to see the obvious use of sanitary napkins.
IT IS A WONDERFUL PIECE OF FIRST AID EQUIPMENT TO STOP BLEEDING.
An arterial wound can kill you. The blood will spurt out thick and fast and you lose a lot of blood very very quickly. A loss of one liter can put the body in shock, a loss of two liters and you are in extreme danger. Three liters of blood less in your body and you are dead. So the bleeding has to be stopped with whatever means possible.
One way to stop bleeding and that is what we have been doing for so long is to use cotton or gauze. But an arterial wound requires a lot of rolls of cotton to stem the bleeding. Soon the cotton will be wet and soggy, requiring more and more cotton.
A sanitary napkin is designed to absorb blood. And if the advertisements are to be believed, they can absorb blood indefinitely and copious amounts of it. The blood will not seep, I think it gels inside the napkin. And when we are talking of arterial bleeding we are talking of a lot of blood. Apart from what the manufacturers and inventors designed it for, how best can we use a sanitary napkin for? So the bleeding is not from the area that it was made for. So what. A sanitary napkin in my first aid will do the job of maybe half a dozen cotton rolls.
Survival is about improvisation. It is about being open to ideas. It is a taking decisions probably not listed in any book. One needs to survive and one needs to do the best possible, with the given resources. A sanitary napkin in my first aid kit is a boon. Another lesson learned.
This example just goes to show that there is no end to learning. The definite book on survival is yet to be written. Every log, every branch, every brook, pond and river, every grain of sand in the harsh desert landscape can and will continue to teach us newer and better ways to survive. The effort and the learnings continue.
So, till such time as someone does not invent a better blood absorbent, dump a pack of sanitary napkins into your first aid kit. I hope you never ever have to put it to the test in a real life emergency situation though. Have a safe life in the wilderness.
Friday, September 16, 2011
To eat or not to eat!!!
Hmmm, I have been struggling with this question for some time now. And no, I am not dieting or controlling obesity, far from it. The question has repeatedly burrowed out from the deep hole in the mind I had buried it in and refuses to lay in peace. OK, let me tell you what my worry is. It is about the OTA Survival School courses.
These are wilderness survival courses and participants need to have a survival experience. Meaning the course needs to be simulated to the extent that the participants actually feel they have survived the duration of the course and finally reached the safety and comfort of home. And it is only for two or three days in any case. My original plan was to provide major sleep, food and water deprivation to give them a feel of what it feels like to be sleepy, to be hungry, to be thirsty. A situation where they would go hungry if they could not catch food, thirsty if there was no way to purify the water they had found.
But then I figured that most people are so strung up for the week that to be paying to get screwed would have led to possible mutiny ... and then we could really have a survival situation with guns blazing, knives flashing and people out to strangle the guy who was found to be hiding a bar of chocolate in his backpack.
Modification to the curriculum. Participants might be offered frugal food through the course. MIGHT being the operative word. Bread, eggs, butter, potatoes, etc. Maybe even a juice. Just so that they know what it is like to be hungry in a survival situation but with a more controlled degree of difficulty and an easier level of tolerance. Feed them before they go berserk and instead of happy participants sending me more clients, a bunch of angry humans swearing to blacklist the course from here to eternity and back again.
Curriculum modified again. As of a little while ago, the plan is to offer three squares a day, but a lunatic that I am, three squares with a twist. All the meals are cooked over a campfire. And they are cooked by the participants themselves. No one to cook the food, no one to serve it, no one to blame if the salt is too less ... is there is any salt at all. Give them the ingredients, whatever they want ... chicken, mutton, fish, prawns, rabbits, steaks, whatever. Even veggies and spices. Get the guys to cook their food.
This is the plan as of a little while ago. I think the decision is made ... TO EAT. Not to eat is not an option any more. I need to sleep on it a little more and if it still sounds good a few hours later, this is the way it will be. But who knows the fickleness of the human mind. Maybe there will be a cook after all. But I will resist it with all the power at my disposal (and that is not saying too much). I have already given a yard away by agreeing to offer food, haven't I?
There is still the question of where to sleep and where to crap. Basic comforts demanded by city folk, even if they happen to be in the middle of a jungle participating in a survival course. But that is another question, to be addressed another day. My mind at the moment is simmering with the wafting aroma of a rabbit being grilled over an open flame, with all the anxious eyes and salivating tongues of the participants, knives at the ready, waiting to fight for the largest piece.
So, to eat it is.
These are wilderness survival courses and participants need to have a survival experience. Meaning the course needs to be simulated to the extent that the participants actually feel they have survived the duration of the course and finally reached the safety and comfort of home. And it is only for two or three days in any case. My original plan was to provide major sleep, food and water deprivation to give them a feel of what it feels like to be sleepy, to be hungry, to be thirsty. A situation where they would go hungry if they could not catch food, thirsty if there was no way to purify the water they had found.
But then I figured that most people are so strung up for the week that to be paying to get screwed would have led to possible mutiny ... and then we could really have a survival situation with guns blazing, knives flashing and people out to strangle the guy who was found to be hiding a bar of chocolate in his backpack.
Modification to the curriculum. Participants might be offered frugal food through the course. MIGHT being the operative word. Bread, eggs, butter, potatoes, etc. Maybe even a juice. Just so that they know what it is like to be hungry in a survival situation but with a more controlled degree of difficulty and an easier level of tolerance. Feed them before they go berserk and instead of happy participants sending me more clients, a bunch of angry humans swearing to blacklist the course from here to eternity and back again.
Curriculum modified again. As of a little while ago, the plan is to offer three squares a day, but a lunatic that I am, three squares with a twist. All the meals are cooked over a campfire. And they are cooked by the participants themselves. No one to cook the food, no one to serve it, no one to blame if the salt is too less ... is there is any salt at all. Give them the ingredients, whatever they want ... chicken, mutton, fish, prawns, rabbits, steaks, whatever. Even veggies and spices. Get the guys to cook their food.
This is the plan as of a little while ago. I think the decision is made ... TO EAT. Not to eat is not an option any more. I need to sleep on it a little more and if it still sounds good a few hours later, this is the way it will be. But who knows the fickleness of the human mind. Maybe there will be a cook after all. But I will resist it with all the power at my disposal (and that is not saying too much). I have already given a yard away by agreeing to offer food, haven't I?
There is still the question of where to sleep and where to crap. Basic comforts demanded by city folk, even if they happen to be in the middle of a jungle participating in a survival course. But that is another question, to be addressed another day. My mind at the moment is simmering with the wafting aroma of a rabbit being grilled over an open flame, with all the anxious eyes and salivating tongues of the participants, knives at the ready, waiting to fight for the largest piece.
So, to eat it is.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Delhi Bomb Blasts – Lessons to be Learned
India was once again rocked with the devastating effect of an exploding terrorist bomb. As of writing this, eleven people are confirmed dead and 76 others are injured, in various stages of criticality. I am sure there are others who have fortuitously escaped with minor physical injuries, but the mental anguish of witnessing and being so close to an act like this can have a more long lasting and devastating effect.
The media has dusted off the old files and old tapes and are repeating the same old conversations and debates about what we as a Nation need to do to tackle terror. The people in power and the people who oppose them are voicing the same old platitudes. Fortunately, and probably because this is not Bombay, we are not hearing about the celebrated resilience of the people of India. Some people are voicing what they have been voicing so often, “Enough is enough.”
I am sure there are things that need to be done and that there are people to do them. If the current people are incompetent or unable, I am sure some day a more competent bunch of people will be found to do the job that needs to be done.
I do not have the knowledge or the intelligence to begin to presume that I might have the answers on how to tackle the menace of terrorism that has made Bombay as fearful a city to live in as Kabul and Karachi. Far from being presumptuous about so delicate and important a matter, I want to delve into a more mundane issue – the issue of healthcare.
Eleven people dead, scores injured. Eye witness accounts state that when they looked around in the immediate aftermath of the blast, they saw people with their lower limbs missing. I wonder if there is any published data of how many of the eleven people lost their lives through the blast itself, and how many lost their lives through blood loss. Losing a limb ... or two ... and that too the lower limbs means an inordinate amount of blood loss from the femoral artery, one of the most difficult arteries to contain in case of a severe external wound that is bleeding in the lower limbs.
Like in any other emergency, there were a lot of good Samaritans who were picking up these people, loading them onto whichever passing vehicle was willing to lend a helping hand to take them to the nearest medical facility. I wonder if any of them knew how to contain the severe blood loss. Excessive loss of arterial blood, particularly from the femoral artery can result in a very quick death. If only the Samaritans did their bit and put pressure on the femoral arteries, maybe the death toll could have been less than eleven. Like I said, I wonder how many of these people died from blood loss.
There would have been other injuries, superficial and deep. Cases of bleeding resulting from shrapnel injury would have been present. I wish more people knew the basics of first aid.
I am sure there was shock. Could people have been treated for shock, by lay people, before being attended to by a qualified medical practitioner? Shock can lead to a cardiac arrest. How many people in the vicinity of the Delhi High Court knew how to administer a cardio pulmonary resuscitation or CPR? If they knew and even if ONE person has died or has suffered from a cardiac arrest, that person could have been saved.
I wonder why we do not take it upon ourselves to learn the basics of first aid. We can save people’s lives. We can take control of emergency situations and become better citizens. These things do not always “happen to other people”. The “other people” could be us next, or people who are dear to us. If only we take control of our own destiny!
Let the Government do its job in tackling terror. Why can’t we learn to tackle the terror in the person’s eyes who sees his or her legs blown off? This is terror we can tackle and we do not require the Police or the Army or the Government or Barack Obama or Asif Ali Zardari to help us do that. Let us pledge to learn the basics of first aid – for us, for our children and for our fellow citizens. Otherwise many more people will die needlessly. Maybe some will learn, but I worry that maybe many will not.
One can take a basic course at a lot of places. The Indian Red Cross Society comes immediately to mind. For my part, I can offer the OTA Survival School (http://OTASurvivalSchool.com) to impart training in basic first aid.
PS: By the way, as a double whammy, just as I was penning this piece I felt a train rumbling at great speed through my house. An earthquake hit Delhi. A terrorist attack and an earthquake, both on the same day. Talk of lack of preparedness. It is not always the disaster management mechanism that will come to our aid. They will, soon, but till then we have to take care of ourselves and take control of our own destiny.
The media has dusted off the old files and old tapes and are repeating the same old conversations and debates about what we as a Nation need to do to tackle terror. The people in power and the people who oppose them are voicing the same old platitudes. Fortunately, and probably because this is not Bombay, we are not hearing about the celebrated resilience of the people of India. Some people are voicing what they have been voicing so often, “Enough is enough.”
I am sure there are things that need to be done and that there are people to do them. If the current people are incompetent or unable, I am sure some day a more competent bunch of people will be found to do the job that needs to be done.
I do not have the knowledge or the intelligence to begin to presume that I might have the answers on how to tackle the menace of terrorism that has made Bombay as fearful a city to live in as Kabul and Karachi. Far from being presumptuous about so delicate and important a matter, I want to delve into a more mundane issue – the issue of healthcare.
Eleven people dead, scores injured. Eye witness accounts state that when they looked around in the immediate aftermath of the blast, they saw people with their lower limbs missing. I wonder if there is any published data of how many of the eleven people lost their lives through the blast itself, and how many lost their lives through blood loss. Losing a limb ... or two ... and that too the lower limbs means an inordinate amount of blood loss from the femoral artery, one of the most difficult arteries to contain in case of a severe external wound that is bleeding in the lower limbs.
Like in any other emergency, there were a lot of good Samaritans who were picking up these people, loading them onto whichever passing vehicle was willing to lend a helping hand to take them to the nearest medical facility. I wonder if any of them knew how to contain the severe blood loss. Excessive loss of arterial blood, particularly from the femoral artery can result in a very quick death. If only the Samaritans did their bit and put pressure on the femoral arteries, maybe the death toll could have been less than eleven. Like I said, I wonder how many of these people died from blood loss.
There would have been other injuries, superficial and deep. Cases of bleeding resulting from shrapnel injury would have been present. I wish more people knew the basics of first aid.
I am sure there was shock. Could people have been treated for shock, by lay people, before being attended to by a qualified medical practitioner? Shock can lead to a cardiac arrest. How many people in the vicinity of the Delhi High Court knew how to administer a cardio pulmonary resuscitation or CPR? If they knew and even if ONE person has died or has suffered from a cardiac arrest, that person could have been saved.
I wonder why we do not take it upon ourselves to learn the basics of first aid. We can save people’s lives. We can take control of emergency situations and become better citizens. These things do not always “happen to other people”. The “other people” could be us next, or people who are dear to us. If only we take control of our own destiny!
Let the Government do its job in tackling terror. Why can’t we learn to tackle the terror in the person’s eyes who sees his or her legs blown off? This is terror we can tackle and we do not require the Police or the Army or the Government or Barack Obama or Asif Ali Zardari to help us do that. Let us pledge to learn the basics of first aid – for us, for our children and for our fellow citizens. Otherwise many more people will die needlessly. Maybe some will learn, but I worry that maybe many will not.
One can take a basic course at a lot of places. The Indian Red Cross Society comes immediately to mind. For my part, I can offer the OTA Survival School (http://OTASurvivalSchool.com) to impart training in basic first aid.
PS: By the way, as a double whammy, just as I was penning this piece I felt a train rumbling at great speed through my house. An earthquake hit Delhi. A terrorist attack and an earthquake, both on the same day. Talk of lack of preparedness. It is not always the disaster management mechanism that will come to our aid. They will, soon, but till then we have to take care of ourselves and take control of our own destiny.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
A long cherished dream comes to life
I have grown up with the fact that my father was the first Indian Army officer to have successfully graduated from Fort Bragg, North Carolina after completing the Rangers Course. He thus became the first Indian Green Beret, a la Rambo. He then went on to start the Commando Wing for the Indian Army. In his later days he commanded the Counter Insurgency and Jungle Warfare School which has made quite a name for itself in recent years ... globally. He, I believe, always had a smirk on his face, a wry smile, whenever he heard of some officer not being able to complete the Commando Course. After all he designed the Course and the pass out rate was less than 10%.
Well, with that kind of a heritage looming large over me from the time I was learning to walk, was a pretty daunting task. Maybe my getting into the adventure and exploration space was a way of gaining his pleasure. I will never know since he passed away a few years before I started OutThere Adventurers.
I have travelled around the country, seen places few see, got myself a couple of records, gunning for a few more, shattered my leg, walk with a limp, I have done all that. But somewhere deep inside was a doubt whether I knew enough about the wilderness, enough about survival. I still vividly remember the night I spent at 16,500 feet, in the open, with just a sleeping bag, no tent, no acclimatisation, all because my motorbike went kaput. I did not know whether I would surviv e the night. As it happens, I did, and the thought that I needed to learn more about survival was never far away from the top level of my consciousness.
I have wanted to learn about knots, how to set traps, to to perform CPR, how to drink out of fetid pool of stagnant water, how to suture a wound. I have wanted to learn all of that, and over the years have picked up some tips and tricks. I still have a long way to go.
But the things I have learnt is something that I have wanted to pass on to others. And I have this discussion with virtually every member of every group that accompanies me on the road trip to Ladakh. I know what the dangers are, while many people look at it as just another ride. I scare them silly, while they look at me funny thinking, "This guy is loco, surely I will not die." But people do fall sick on those high mountains. Anyway, once the trip is all done and the memories are full of happy tidings, they look at me and say, "See, nothing happened." I turn back and tell them, "Nothing happened because I scared you silly and you did what I told you to do." Precaution is always better than cure, every day of the week and every hour of the day.
How could I structure these learnings and spread the good word? Finally it came to me. Let's start a schoo. And that is how the worm that had been germinating in the mind for so many months and years came to finally see the light of day. The OTA Survival School was launched.
Classes are yet to begin, they should commence in a couple of weeks. I am now tying up locations where the weekend and week long courses can be conducted. In the hills, in the jungles, in the desert. I still need to figure out water survival for myself, so that is not yet part of the course. Will need to get into that pretty quick.
Well, the School is up and about, taking its first tentative steps. We also cut a film that started out being less than an hour long, but has ended up being over three hours. Packed with lods of information. And it comes along with a 68-page, pocket-sized, free booklet that can be carried as ready reckoner. Now to get the show on the road.
Here's to the future. And like I say in the film and in the book and on the website, and I am sure will tell all participants, remember the 7 Ps - Proper Planning, Preparation and Practice Prevents Possible Problems.
Have fun in the wild and maybe I will see you on one of the OTASS courses.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Lord give me a winner so that I can gloat
All of India is in a state of frenzy over the past couple of weeks. The cricket world cup was on ... it just got over, but more on that later. Miraculously almost, Indins found that their team was on the verge of reaching hallowed ground - the finals. And war was declared when it was found that the team India had to vanquish on the battlefield was none other than arch rivals Pakistan. We went back to the days around Independence, the riots that followed partition, the war of 1948, the 1965 battles, the creation of Bangladesh and India's role in that, Musharraf and the Kargil War of 1999, the continuing miltancy that rages on in the Valley. And now the enemy was near. And the battlefield was designated as the Mohali Stadium. Prime Ministers were in attendance, seven tiered security was in place, in fact there was talk of fighter jets flying over the city to prevent any arial attack. The cricket crazy (and mindless) Indian fan was lathi charged looking for that elusive ticket. Finally after all was said and done, India beat Pakistan and entered the finals of the World Cup. Who cared if India won or not, India had beaten Pakistan and that was that. The cup be damned.
If the political, military and diplomatic problems between the two countries could have been solved through one cricket match, life would have been so much simpler. Forty odd thousand rooting fans in the stadium, a billion or so baying for blood, as twenty two gladiators fight it out in the middle, two with wooden sticks, one charging in like a raging bull all set to hurl a five and a half ounce round piece of leather, while a dozen other look on for the outcome that would settle all rows once and for all. The winner takes Kashmir. Hmmm, life could have been so simple.
I think there is a case in history where a war was averted through a football match, the winner of the match would be the winner of the military dispute. Anyway, I am digressing.
India reached the final, like all Indians had prayed for, like all the bookies had predicted, and like ESPN STAR had hoped. And then by jove, they thrash the Lankans after giving eveyone lumps in their throats and mini heart attacks all around. Sehwag gone second ball of the match for a duck. Sachin, the God, sent back with a peach of a delivery. No hundredth hundred for the Master. At 32 for 2, it seemed that all was over. But then the match could not finished so early. What about all the commercials that were to run through the next 75 odd overs. Gambhir and Kohli stabilised the ship and Dhoni came and finished it all off with a captain's knock. India won, Lord Rama had triumphed over Ravana. History was rewritten and it was a slap in the face to everyone who ever doubted that the Ramayan was based in myth and fiction. Here was proof, Dhoni in his role as Rama had once again vanquished the Lankan demons. And legends were born.
The Board of Control for Cricket in India took centre stage and immediately announced a crore of rupees (a little less than US$ 250,000) to each member of the team. I believe Dhoni is being conferred a Jharkhand Ratna. I am sure a slew of other gifts - monetary and otherwise - will follow. Why, I read a Facebook post that suggested Dhoni should stand for Prime Minister.
Now to my point, the one I want to make but cannot find the words for. It was and will continue to be just a game. Maybe I am wrong, but a game is a game is game. Someone wins and someone loses. And this is cricket. And everyone agrees that the real contests of the world begin from the quarter final stage, when the big guns play against each other. But there are only about half a dozen countries in the world that play the game and deserve to be in the BIG league. Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, England, India, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. Am I missing some countries here? Bangladesh? Kenya? Zimbabwe? Netherlands? Canada?
The 2011 Census is just out. We have added 181 million people to the population inthe last decade. That is more than the current population of Pakistan. We add more than the population of Australia every year. Many of our smaller states have a larger population than all of Sri Lanka. We of 1.2 billion people are proud to have picked up a cup after a wait of 28 years. Is it something to be proud of or are we missing a trick here? The sheer might of numbers would suggest that there is talent lying behind every corner in the country. But who needs individual talent? We are happy to usurp the glory that others strive hard for. OK, even if the Indian team has won the World Cup after 28 years and after competing against half a dozen countries, it still had to be done. Kudos to the team. What I am questioning is, what are we individuals have so much to gloat about? Is it because we lack icons that we have to lay the glory of others on our own mantlepiece and usurp it as if it were our own?
To be honest, there are so few icons that we can be proud of. Sachin Tendulkar is one the greatest that has played the game. It is not his fault that he chose to excel in a game that is played by so few countries. He did and he is great. But why ignore other icons? Why not allow the same space to them? Is Saina Nehwal any less? To my mind Sania Mirza is more hype than substance, though she had her chances at glory. Somdev Devvarman is going great guns. Dhanraj Pillai never got the rcognition that he deserved so much. And hockey was once to Indians what cricket is today. I still remember the Test match in Delhi when Geoffrey Boycott crossed 8,032 runs to become the highest run scorer. The stadium was empty because there was an India versus Pakistan hockey match going on in Delhi that afternoon. People streamed out of the Ferozeshah Kotla ground and headed for Shivaji Stadium to watch that match.
Cricket has taken over our collective psyche and to be fair, it is one thing that does bind the country together. Corruption, scams, and political incompetence have two maybe more sides defencing one action or the other. Cynicism abounds. But when there is a cricket match going on, it is Chak De India around the country with Vande Mataram being sung in the stadium by people interlocking their arms and waving the Indian tricolour. True, nothing binds this country stronger than a game of cricket ... well, a game of cricket where Indian is winning. We are just as quick to banish the heroes into the wilderness at the slightest loss of form, or God forbid at a loss to Pakistan. Remember someone called Chetan Sharma? He still rues the time of day when he bowled that last ball of that last over to Javed Miandad. With that glorious six, a promising career ended. Today even political parties are wary of soliciting his support because of the memories that the name Chetan Sharma brings up. One unfortunate ball that got hit for a six could ruin the fortunes of a person or a party trying to run a country. How ironic.
All I want to say is can we rise above ourselves and be happy at someone's achievements, but be man enough to emulate the achievements and not just rest on the laurels that others have gained for themselves. A gripe I have about my country cousins from Bengal. So few have risen beyond the fact that they come from the same land that gave birth to Rabindranath Tagore and Satyajit Ray. So what if I have done nothing, I come from the land of Geetanjali and Pather Panchali. That is my claim to fame.
Let us rise above ourselves and better each other in whatever field we choose for ourselves. Be happy for the glory of others, but strive for personal glory. That is what will make India great. The other day I was reading as book and I think there was a quote from Nehru who mentioned a few years after Independence, "We have created an India, now we need to create some Indians." India is shining, now let us Indians rise up and shine. Give others the opportunity to gloat over your achievements, instead of just being happy at gloating over someone else's achievement, however glorious they may be. It is still someone else's achievement. On the day of judgement, each of us should be able to look int he mirror and say, "I did my bit."
If the political, military and diplomatic problems between the two countries could have been solved through one cricket match, life would have been so much simpler. Forty odd thousand rooting fans in the stadium, a billion or so baying for blood, as twenty two gladiators fight it out in the middle, two with wooden sticks, one charging in like a raging bull all set to hurl a five and a half ounce round piece of leather, while a dozen other look on for the outcome that would settle all rows once and for all. The winner takes Kashmir. Hmmm, life could have been so simple.
I think there is a case in history where a war was averted through a football match, the winner of the match would be the winner of the military dispute. Anyway, I am digressing.
India reached the final, like all Indians had prayed for, like all the bookies had predicted, and like ESPN STAR had hoped. And then by jove, they thrash the Lankans after giving eveyone lumps in their throats and mini heart attacks all around. Sehwag gone second ball of the match for a duck. Sachin, the God, sent back with a peach of a delivery. No hundredth hundred for the Master. At 32 for 2, it seemed that all was over. But then the match could not finished so early. What about all the commercials that were to run through the next 75 odd overs. Gambhir and Kohli stabilised the ship and Dhoni came and finished it all off with a captain's knock. India won, Lord Rama had triumphed over Ravana. History was rewritten and it was a slap in the face to everyone who ever doubted that the Ramayan was based in myth and fiction. Here was proof, Dhoni in his role as Rama had once again vanquished the Lankan demons. And legends were born.
The Board of Control for Cricket in India took centre stage and immediately announced a crore of rupees (a little less than US$ 250,000) to each member of the team. I believe Dhoni is being conferred a Jharkhand Ratna. I am sure a slew of other gifts - monetary and otherwise - will follow. Why, I read a Facebook post that suggested Dhoni should stand for Prime Minister.
Now to my point, the one I want to make but cannot find the words for. It was and will continue to be just a game. Maybe I am wrong, but a game is a game is game. Someone wins and someone loses. And this is cricket. And everyone agrees that the real contests of the world begin from the quarter final stage, when the big guns play against each other. But there are only about half a dozen countries in the world that play the game and deserve to be in the BIG league. Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, England, India, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. Am I missing some countries here? Bangladesh? Kenya? Zimbabwe? Netherlands? Canada?
The 2011 Census is just out. We have added 181 million people to the population inthe last decade. That is more than the current population of Pakistan. We add more than the population of Australia every year. Many of our smaller states have a larger population than all of Sri Lanka. We of 1.2 billion people are proud to have picked up a cup after a wait of 28 years. Is it something to be proud of or are we missing a trick here? The sheer might of numbers would suggest that there is talent lying behind every corner in the country. But who needs individual talent? We are happy to usurp the glory that others strive hard for. OK, even if the Indian team has won the World Cup after 28 years and after competing against half a dozen countries, it still had to be done. Kudos to the team. What I am questioning is, what are we individuals have so much to gloat about? Is it because we lack icons that we have to lay the glory of others on our own mantlepiece and usurp it as if it were our own?
To be honest, there are so few icons that we can be proud of. Sachin Tendulkar is one the greatest that has played the game. It is not his fault that he chose to excel in a game that is played by so few countries. He did and he is great. But why ignore other icons? Why not allow the same space to them? Is Saina Nehwal any less? To my mind Sania Mirza is more hype than substance, though she had her chances at glory. Somdev Devvarman is going great guns. Dhanraj Pillai never got the rcognition that he deserved so much. And hockey was once to Indians what cricket is today. I still remember the Test match in Delhi when Geoffrey Boycott crossed 8,032 runs to become the highest run scorer. The stadium was empty because there was an India versus Pakistan hockey match going on in Delhi that afternoon. People streamed out of the Ferozeshah Kotla ground and headed for Shivaji Stadium to watch that match.
Cricket has taken over our collective psyche and to be fair, it is one thing that does bind the country together. Corruption, scams, and political incompetence have two maybe more sides defencing one action or the other. Cynicism abounds. But when there is a cricket match going on, it is Chak De India around the country with Vande Mataram being sung in the stadium by people interlocking their arms and waving the Indian tricolour. True, nothing binds this country stronger than a game of cricket ... well, a game of cricket where Indian is winning. We are just as quick to banish the heroes into the wilderness at the slightest loss of form, or God forbid at a loss to Pakistan. Remember someone called Chetan Sharma? He still rues the time of day when he bowled that last ball of that last over to Javed Miandad. With that glorious six, a promising career ended. Today even political parties are wary of soliciting his support because of the memories that the name Chetan Sharma brings up. One unfortunate ball that got hit for a six could ruin the fortunes of a person or a party trying to run a country. How ironic.
All I want to say is can we rise above ourselves and be happy at someone's achievements, but be man enough to emulate the achievements and not just rest on the laurels that others have gained for themselves. A gripe I have about my country cousins from Bengal. So few have risen beyond the fact that they come from the same land that gave birth to Rabindranath Tagore and Satyajit Ray. So what if I have done nothing, I come from the land of Geetanjali and Pather Panchali. That is my claim to fame.
Let us rise above ourselves and better each other in whatever field we choose for ourselves. Be happy for the glory of others, but strive for personal glory. That is what will make India great. The other day I was reading as book and I think there was a quote from Nehru who mentioned a few years after Independence, "We have created an India, now we need to create some Indians." India is shining, now let us Indians rise up and shine. Give others the opportunity to gloat over your achievements, instead of just being happy at gloating over someone else's achievement, however glorious they may be. It is still someone else's achievement. On the day of judgement, each of us should be able to look int he mirror and say, "I did my bit."
Thursday, March 24, 2011
What's the YouTube story?
Twenty days have passed by with Dirty Old Boots being in the public domain. And it has been a good twenty days. We are adding about a thousand views every day on average which to my mind is pretty decent going. And we are getting 300 views or thereabouts to almost each video we launch in just a few hours. And then ... kaput. It freezes. The views that is. YouTube seems to have some kind of policy against increasing the number of views beyond 300 or thereabouts mark. Probably for new kids on the block like Dirty Old Boots. They might think that we are somehow manipulating the views. How can a video become so popular is so short a time, particularly if it does not have some crazy, zany, kinky, wierd stuff? And there are a lot of kinky things going on on YouTube. Take a look at some of the popular videos and channels. Millions and millions of views, thousands of subscribers, for what to my illiterate mind seems to be utter rubbish.
We were watching a video made by a guy which has got a zillion views. The video is about this guy being a snake. He hisses, he makes strange noises, even stranger faces, has a hat on that no right thinking person would be caught dead in. There is absolutely nothing in the video that is worth watching. Yet, a zillion or so people have watched it alrfeady and we in the office milled around the screen and watched it too. We laughed, we kicked ourselves, questioned why we were wasting our time, yet there it was, playing itself out.
I get the feeling that videos need to be zany, utterly without a plot, strange ramblings of people, uttering stuff which no one should be interested in. But yet, the proof the the pudding as they say. Huge amounts of traction.
Maybe we are going wrong somewhere. Maybe we need to put in some zany stuff. We were talking in the office in the afternoon. We call ourselves Dirty Old Boots. Let us make a video of a bunch of people throwing dirty boots at each other. Better still ... every one smelling dirty boots and shoes and socks. Maybe a candid camera of people wearing dirty boots. Heaven knows what, but we need to be knocking on those doors to figure out what we need to do to make videos go viral.
But then we also need to figure out how to make YouTube decided that we are not manipulating the numbers, and give us the actual viewership data. We are at 12,000 views as of now. My feeling is it should be at least thrice as high.
The other thing that I have not been able to figure out is the YouTube rankings. One day one video or a channel is at the number one spot, the next day it disappears right off the charts. A look at the numbers shows up a highly viewed video at a lower ranking than a video which has been seen by far lesser number of people.
I think I have not yet figured out how YouTube works. They seem to have a system in the madness, and I need to figure out what that madness is.
One thing is for sure. Even though our videos are well produced and with a lot of information, what is lacking is the glam quotient. I don't think people are interested in watching my gob in video after video, or listen to me droning on and on. What we need is another anchor, a female anchor. With personality, poise and appeal. The hunt is on.
We were watching a video made by a guy which has got a zillion views. The video is about this guy being a snake. He hisses, he makes strange noises, even stranger faces, has a hat on that no right thinking person would be caught dead in. There is absolutely nothing in the video that is worth watching. Yet, a zillion or so people have watched it alrfeady and we in the office milled around the screen and watched it too. We laughed, we kicked ourselves, questioned why we were wasting our time, yet there it was, playing itself out.
I get the feeling that videos need to be zany, utterly without a plot, strange ramblings of people, uttering stuff which no one should be interested in. But yet, the proof the the pudding as they say. Huge amounts of traction.
Maybe we are going wrong somewhere. Maybe we need to put in some zany stuff. We were talking in the office in the afternoon. We call ourselves Dirty Old Boots. Let us make a video of a bunch of people throwing dirty boots at each other. Better still ... every one smelling dirty boots and shoes and socks. Maybe a candid camera of people wearing dirty boots. Heaven knows what, but we need to be knocking on those doors to figure out what we need to do to make videos go viral.
But then we also need to figure out how to make YouTube decided that we are not manipulating the numbers, and give us the actual viewership data. We are at 12,000 views as of now. My feeling is it should be at least thrice as high.
The other thing that I have not been able to figure out is the YouTube rankings. One day one video or a channel is at the number one spot, the next day it disappears right off the charts. A look at the numbers shows up a highly viewed video at a lower ranking than a video which has been seen by far lesser number of people.
I think I have not yet figured out how YouTube works. They seem to have a system in the madness, and I need to figure out what that madness is.
One thing is for sure. Even though our videos are well produced and with a lot of information, what is lacking is the glam quotient. I don't think people are interested in watching my gob in video after video, or listen to me droning on and on. What we need is another anchor, a female anchor. With personality, poise and appeal. The hunt is on.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Just rambling...
As the title states, I am just rambling. The last week has been nice. The Lathmar Holi video on Dirty Old Boots has been received quite well. In fact I was just checking its status on Metacafe. Our video had 69 views while NDTV's had 6. Felt nice. Must be doing something right. On DailyMotion ours waas the only video on Lathmar Holi. Does that mean it is not worth uploading or does it mean that others have somehow missed the trick on a unique festival. I would rather be biased to my way of thinking. Dirty Old Boots is alive and well and the first few tentative steps that began about three weeks ago are becoming a lot more surer. A long long way ahead. We have not even begun to project the kind of things that we want Dirty Old Boots to become. A definite travel resource. Today it is little more than a drop box of sundry videos. To a casual visitor to the site, focus is something they will feel is lacking on the site. But we know where we want to go from here on in. And we will get there. Slowly and surely.
The other day I was speaking to a friend of mine and he suggested something that I have been grappling with for some time. How does Dirty Old Boots generate revenues for itself without waiting for advertisers to come in. I know advertisers will com ein, but that is still some distance away into the future. We need a threshold level of traffic to the site to generate advertising revenue. Till then ... what?
Well, on ething that I have been doing and now will intergrate into Dirty Old Boots is tours. I go to Ladakh every year. I love going back to Bhutan at every opportunity. Sikkim is a favourite. My plans of rafting down the Zanskar this August and the Brahmaputra this December is final. Why don't I start packaging all these trips, plug them with the videos that we produce and generate revenues from that? Sounds like a plan. In fact that is something that has kept me busy for the better part of today. Added five trips that we plan to promote this year - Ladakh, Zanskar rafting, Bhutan, a road trip to the base camp of Mt Everest and a trip to Kailash and Mansarovar. The last two I have been wanting to do for ages, maybe 2011 is my lucky year.
One route I would like to add to the offering is Mongolia. It is a mystical country, relatively unknown and exotic. A horse trek across the Mongolian steppes, through the Gobi desert, witnessing the Nadaam Festival, maybe even spending a week out with Kazhak eagle hunters. Mongolia is a place I will need to recce soon. Maybe spend a month there figuring out details, then packaging shorter trips.
The other thing I have kind of figured out is the difference between budget packages and high end packages. I would rather work on the second kind of guests. But this year may be too early for that, I am not yet geared to cater to the high end clientele. 2012 for sure.
Well, enough ramblings for now. I was kinda hoping that during the course of my ramblings Dirty Old Boots would have crossed another milestone. It is at 9,858 hits, and I was hoping it would cross the 10,000 mark. No sweat, probably sometime during the night. Just the beginning. Need a million hits a month for Dirty old Boots to do what it is gearing up to do. Godpseed.
The other day I was speaking to a friend of mine and he suggested something that I have been grappling with for some time. How does Dirty Old Boots generate revenues for itself without waiting for advertisers to come in. I know advertisers will com ein, but that is still some distance away into the future. We need a threshold level of traffic to the site to generate advertising revenue. Till then ... what?
Well, on ething that I have been doing and now will intergrate into Dirty Old Boots is tours. I go to Ladakh every year. I love going back to Bhutan at every opportunity. Sikkim is a favourite. My plans of rafting down the Zanskar this August and the Brahmaputra this December is final. Why don't I start packaging all these trips, plug them with the videos that we produce and generate revenues from that? Sounds like a plan. In fact that is something that has kept me busy for the better part of today. Added five trips that we plan to promote this year - Ladakh, Zanskar rafting, Bhutan, a road trip to the base camp of Mt Everest and a trip to Kailash and Mansarovar. The last two I have been wanting to do for ages, maybe 2011 is my lucky year.
One route I would like to add to the offering is Mongolia. It is a mystical country, relatively unknown and exotic. A horse trek across the Mongolian steppes, through the Gobi desert, witnessing the Nadaam Festival, maybe even spending a week out with Kazhak eagle hunters. Mongolia is a place I will need to recce soon. Maybe spend a month there figuring out details, then packaging shorter trips.
The other thing I have kind of figured out is the difference between budget packages and high end packages. I would rather work on the second kind of guests. But this year may be too early for that, I am not yet geared to cater to the high end clientele. 2012 for sure.
Well, enough ramblings for now. I was kinda hoping that during the course of my ramblings Dirty Old Boots would have crossed another milestone. It is at 9,858 hits, and I was hoping it would cross the 10,000 mark. No sweat, probably sometime during the night. Just the beginning. Need a million hits a month for Dirty old Boots to do what it is gearing up to do. Godpseed.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Lathmar Holi at Barsana
A lot many of us have played Holi in our lives. Some have not for various reasons. And most have us have played Holi living in the cities, played with friends and family. Holi is all about celebrations and camaraderie. A festival of colours where each grain of colour mixes with the others symbolising harmony among people. But Holi over the years, particularly in the cities, has degenerated into something else altogether. There is shameless harassment of women, the colours have become synthetic and for a large part, become a festival to be scared of because of all the hooliganism associated with it. Hooliganism that has nothing to do with the festival, but with those who use the canvas of the festival to indulge in absoluet nonsense.
A trip to Barsana and participating in the celebration of Holi there will take you back to the time when Holi was played as intended. The whole community participates and there is no hooliganism. Complete strangers smother each other with colour, hugs are exchanged and praises are raised to Lord Krishna and his favourite consort Radha. Actually Barsana is where Radha used to live and Krishna used to live in Nandgaon, less than ten kilometers away. The practice of Holi in Barsana dates back to those times and the traditions of Lathmar Holi continues from days of myth and legend, right up to this present day.
The small town of Barsana with a population of around 10,000 transforms in itself at this time of the year when literally lakhs of people from all over the country, and indeed the world, come here to witness a celebration of Holi that is unique for this village. Holi in Barsana is unique for the story that plays out every year.
Legend has it that Krishna stole the clothes of the gopis as they were bathing in the pond. Radha and her friends decided to teach Krishna a lesson and beat him up with sticks, or lathis. The occasion of Holi re enacts this story when men from Nandgaon impersonating Krishna come to Barsana to play Holi with Radha and the women of Barsana impersonating Radha beat Krishna up. The men are not supposed to retaliate while the women rain blows on them, quite aggressively and with all their vengeance I might add. In fact I saw a couple of bamboo sticks actually split wide open in the process. The men parry the blows with leather shields as they sit on the ground, with heavily padded turbans on their heads, waiting for the blows to stop.
It is interesting to note that only the wives of Barsana participate in the "lathi charge", the sisters and daughters do not.
The day following the Lathmar Holi at Barsana, the entire scene is repeated when the men from Barsana go to Nandgaon to get beaten up by the women (Radhas) of Nandgaon. All in good humour, but entirely aggressive and violent, the Barsana Holi is an experience one cannot afford to miss.
For a small town with narrow alleys and an infrastructure built to cater to a small population, it is immensely well-geared to handle the hundreds of thousands of people that converge on the village. The Police bandobast is top rate and intervention is immediate at any sign of impropriety.
On the road towards Agra from Delhi and about 20 kilometers short of the turn towards Vrindavan there is a road to the right that leads to Barsana 17 kilometers away. Reach early and revel in the gaiety throughout the day, ending with the spectacular Lathmar Holi of Barsana.
Happy Holi. Radhey Radhey. Banke Bihari Ki Jai.
A trip to Barsana and participating in the celebration of Holi there will take you back to the time when Holi was played as intended. The whole community participates and there is no hooliganism. Complete strangers smother each other with colour, hugs are exchanged and praises are raised to Lord Krishna and his favourite consort Radha. Actually Barsana is where Radha used to live and Krishna used to live in Nandgaon, less than ten kilometers away. The practice of Holi in Barsana dates back to those times and the traditions of Lathmar Holi continues from days of myth and legend, right up to this present day.
The small town of Barsana with a population of around 10,000 transforms in itself at this time of the year when literally lakhs of people from all over the country, and indeed the world, come here to witness a celebration of Holi that is unique for this village. Holi in Barsana is unique for the story that plays out every year.
Legend has it that Krishna stole the clothes of the gopis as they were bathing in the pond. Radha and her friends decided to teach Krishna a lesson and beat him up with sticks, or lathis. The occasion of Holi re enacts this story when men from Nandgaon impersonating Krishna come to Barsana to play Holi with Radha and the women of Barsana impersonating Radha beat Krishna up. The men are not supposed to retaliate while the women rain blows on them, quite aggressively and with all their vengeance I might add. In fact I saw a couple of bamboo sticks actually split wide open in the process. The men parry the blows with leather shields as they sit on the ground, with heavily padded turbans on their heads, waiting for the blows to stop.
It is interesting to note that only the wives of Barsana participate in the "lathi charge", the sisters and daughters do not.
The day following the Lathmar Holi at Barsana, the entire scene is repeated when the men from Barsana go to Nandgaon to get beaten up by the women (Radhas) of Nandgaon. All in good humour, but entirely aggressive and violent, the Barsana Holi is an experience one cannot afford to miss.
For a small town with narrow alleys and an infrastructure built to cater to a small population, it is immensely well-geared to handle the hundreds of thousands of people that converge on the village. The Police bandobast is top rate and intervention is immediate at any sign of impropriety.
On the road towards Agra from Delhi and about 20 kilometers short of the turn towards Vrindavan there is a road to the right that leads to Barsana 17 kilometers away. Reach early and revel in the gaiety throughout the day, ending with the spectacular Lathmar Holi of Barsana.
Happy Holi. Radhey Radhey. Banke Bihari Ki Jai.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Welcome to Dirty Old Boots
After having travelled for over a decade and exploring the vast expanse of this wonderful subcontinent, I decided to structure the experiences, remove the pitfalls and answer some queries that I have had over the years. That was the germ of an idea some three or four years ago and today it has culminated in the launch of Dirty Old Boots. It is a travel resource for travellers, by travellers, with information that travellers want. Largely I have found that information about places, destinations, things to see, routes, maps, etc are very inadequate. Information that is available is guarded as State secrets. Dirty Old Boots is trying to address that situation.
I love travelling and I love photography. And Dirty Old Boots is a resources that is entirely on video. Take a look at the website and you will get a glimpse of things to come. It is still in its early infancy and over the next few months we hope to create something unique, something relevant, something different and something very new. The target is to have at least 50,000 videos in the next two years. And when I say infancy, the proof of that is in the fact that Dirty Old Boots has all of 31 videos today. It is not just work in progress but the raw materials are being gathered. We have put the information out in the public space because we are way too excited. Four of us - Plaban Bagchi, Prerna Siddharth, Akhilesh Mishra and me - are trying our best to put a structure to what we all have in our heads. Just wait for the next few months.
Life has been exciting these last couple of months. we enjoy our work, we have fun and seeing each new video in the public space gives us immense joy and satisfaction. I still remember the time when we cross 100 video views. It was elation. And then we crossed 1,000. Today we are just over the 7,000 video view mark, inching towards the magical 10,000 mark. Someday we hope a whole lot more zeros will be in that number.
In the last month we have travelled to Manali, we have rafted down the Ganges in Rishikesh, we have prayed with the faithful at Har Ki Pauri, we zip up and down the streets of Delhi every day, capturing all that we can. In a couple of hours we are off to Mathura - Barsana actually - to capture on film the unique festival of Lathmar Holi.
For the moment take a look at the video we produced on rafting down the Ganges. The film on Holi should be up in a week or so.
It is great to be back on the blog. I hope to update it as often as I can. Do visit the site, click on the LIKE button and share it with your network on Facebook. You can also subscribe to our YouTube channel ... http://www.youtube.com/user/mydirtyoldboots. And you can do all this from any page on the website - http://DirtyOldBoots.com
I'll see you when I see you. Have fun
I love travelling and I love photography. And Dirty Old Boots is a resources that is entirely on video. Take a look at the website and you will get a glimpse of things to come. It is still in its early infancy and over the next few months we hope to create something unique, something relevant, something different and something very new. The target is to have at least 50,000 videos in the next two years. And when I say infancy, the proof of that is in the fact that Dirty Old Boots has all of 31 videos today. It is not just work in progress but the raw materials are being gathered. We have put the information out in the public space because we are way too excited. Four of us - Plaban Bagchi, Prerna Siddharth, Akhilesh Mishra and me - are trying our best to put a structure to what we all have in our heads. Just wait for the next few months.
Life has been exciting these last couple of months. we enjoy our work, we have fun and seeing each new video in the public space gives us immense joy and satisfaction. I still remember the time when we cross 100 video views. It was elation. And then we crossed 1,000. Today we are just over the 7,000 video view mark, inching towards the magical 10,000 mark. Someday we hope a whole lot more zeros will be in that number.
In the last month we have travelled to Manali, we have rafted down the Ganges in Rishikesh, we have prayed with the faithful at Har Ki Pauri, we zip up and down the streets of Delhi every day, capturing all that we can. In a couple of hours we are off to Mathura - Barsana actually - to capture on film the unique festival of Lathmar Holi.
For the moment take a look at the video we produced on rafting down the Ganges. The film on Holi should be up in a week or so.
It is great to be back on the blog. I hope to update it as often as I can. Do visit the site, click on the LIKE button and share it with your network on Facebook. You can also subscribe to our YouTube channel ... http://www.youtube.com/user/mydirtyoldboots. And you can do all this from any page on the website - http://DirtyOldBoots.com
I'll see you when I see you. Have fun
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