CREDIT CRUNCHHH..That’s the talk of the town around the globe. “What’s this all about?” asked a Sri Lankan worker whose job it is to water the trees on Sharjah’s famous Al Wahda Street.
I wondered how to explain it in simple words from what I have read in newspapers.
Well, it goes like this: Willi (fictitious name & story) never believed in taking loans. One day, his brother meets with an accident. The doctor said: “Pay off $5,000 or lose him.” Determined to save his brother, Willi approached a bank seeking loan for the first time in his life. The bank wanted a guarantee. Willi owned a house. “Why $5,000, you are eligible for much more, enjoy life,” coaxed a bank agent eyeing his own commission from the deal. Poor Willi was dragged into the materialistic cesspool. His brother recovered, but he fell neck-deep in debt. The loan interest mounted and mounted and mounted, while the home value slumped.
DOUBLE-WHAMMY.
Willi is in a soup and so is the bank. And so is the country and so is the global situation.
Dunno whether I explained it right. Gardener Nijam nodded his head and I felt like a successful professor.
My friend Faiyaz has a simple solution: “Don’t fall prey to lifestyle lure. It has glitter but no heart. Materialism is a dangerous path.”
I agree and disagree. Personally, I have managed to live all these years without a credit card. Believe me. I live in the UAE and on occasions walk around the only seven-star hotel in the world, Burj Al Arab, to attend press conferences. I have traveled to Hamburg and still could move on without a credit card. We all need money, but we sure can balance our budget within our means. I should be stupid to think I will become a Bill Gates overnight. I can dream of becoming one. But I can spend like Bill Gates only after my bank accounts have a similar balance as his. Oh, this philosopher instinct. For all that I say, I am highly materialistic too. So, there’s a bit of hypocricy.
But, live within your means. Sorry, if I am forwarding an unsolicited suggestion. But you will accept it one day as the right path.
RR/ Oct.13, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Thinking makes it so
Give any popular book that sells well, my wife told a roadside vendor in Chennai. He promptly held out Foreign Body, by Robin Cook. Dunno why. But I liked the opening quotation: If one thinks of oneself as free, one is free, and if one thinks of oneself as bound, one is bound. "Thinking makes it so."
-Ashtavakra Gita - Traslated by John Richards.
-Ashtavakra Gita - Traslated by John Richards.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Pranks at TOI
I had promised to write about the pranks we journalists played on each other during the 90s at The Times of India, Mumbai, where I was a chief sub-editor during the entire decade. I can call that a golden period for us as reporters and the desk worked as a family.
PD was a wonderful guy at the sports department (“was” because the great friend is unfortunately no more). When the mood became dull at the general news desk, I was usually prompted by two young Parsi beauties (at that time, dunno now) to play some prank and I invariably fell for the bait. And so it was decided to corner PD.
I picked up the phone, covered the receiver with a paper and called out: “Mr P.”
“Yep.”
“I am calling from the security. There’s a visitor for you. Please come to the reception.”
“Send him up.”
“No sir. There is a new regulation. You have to come down.”
I could clearly hear a murmer and a four-letter word. This was followed by the banging of the phone.
When P reached the third floor lift, I called out: “P, are you going to the security room?”
No.., I cannot pen the words he showered on me.
This was merely a beginning. The pranks reached unbelievable heights.
More on that…We can wait for the next post.
RR/Oct.11, 2008
PD was a wonderful guy at the sports department (“was” because the great friend is unfortunately no more). When the mood became dull at the general news desk, I was usually prompted by two young Parsi beauties (at that time, dunno now) to play some prank and I invariably fell for the bait. And so it was decided to corner PD.
I picked up the phone, covered the receiver with a paper and called out: “Mr P.”
“Yep.”
“I am calling from the security. There’s a visitor for you. Please come to the reception.”
“Send him up.”
“No sir. There is a new regulation. You have to come down.”
I could clearly hear a murmer and a four-letter word. This was followed by the banging of the phone.
When P reached the third floor lift, I called out: “P, are you going to the security room?”
No.., I cannot pen the words he showered on me.
This was merely a beginning. The pranks reached unbelievable heights.
More on that…We can wait for the next post.
RR/Oct.11, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Public diary of private person
The attack was direct. “You don’t even know the meaning of blogs. You are supposed to maintain anonymity,” yelled a close friend, who is also a senior journalist.
“I feel a blog is the public diary of a private person. There’s no need to hide behind curtains,” I argued.
“Anyway, your blog is silly and lacks focus,” he continued.
I just smiled. “If I get angry, you win, my friend,” I told myself. “And I will just not allow that.” Wow, I am maturing.
rr/Oct.10, 2008
“I feel a blog is the public diary of a private person. There’s no need to hide behind curtains,” I argued.
“Anyway, your blog is silly and lacks focus,” he continued.
I just smiled. “If I get angry, you win, my friend,” I told myself. “And I will just not allow that.” Wow, I am maturing.
rr/Oct.10, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Anger buster
Everyone gets angry at some point of time. But some get angry too often. I entered office after a long vacation and a colleague greeted me with: “You did not even bother to mail. I am angry with you.”
I tried to reason with him. But no use. I told him a story I had read. A monk was sitting under a tree discussing with his disciples when that country’s army commander, who was passing by, stopped his vehicle and approached him. He asked the monk: “I want to know about hell and heaven.”
The monk replied: “I will tell you. But, by the way, who are you?”
”I am the commander,” replied the man in an arrogant tone.
“Commander! You look like a butcher,” mocked the monk.
Anger writ large on his face, the commander whipped his knife and charged towards the monk. “Well, this is hell,” smiled the monk. Ashamed, the commander put back his knife and sought forgiveness. With a repentant face, he said “I am very sorry.” “This is heaven,” came the reply.
“The story is fine. But don’t you think it is impossible to control anger?” he asked innocently.
“I have read psychologists saying that among the best ways to control anger are; talk to a friend you can trust; count to 10; get or give a hug or just take a walk,” I replied.
“All okay, but you are no better. You get angry at slight provocation,” my friend said.
"I don’t think so.”
“You do,” he insisted.
“No…,” I screamed with fury.
“There you go..,” laughed my colleague.
rr/Oct8
I tried to reason with him. But no use. I told him a story I had read. A monk was sitting under a tree discussing with his disciples when that country’s army commander, who was passing by, stopped his vehicle and approached him. He asked the monk: “I want to know about hell and heaven.”
The monk replied: “I will tell you. But, by the way, who are you?”
”I am the commander,” replied the man in an arrogant tone.
“Commander! You look like a butcher,” mocked the monk.
Anger writ large on his face, the commander whipped his knife and charged towards the monk. “Well, this is hell,” smiled the monk. Ashamed, the commander put back his knife and sought forgiveness. With a repentant face, he said “I am very sorry.” “This is heaven,” came the reply.
“The story is fine. But don’t you think it is impossible to control anger?” he asked innocently.
“I have read psychologists saying that among the best ways to control anger are; talk to a friend you can trust; count to 10; get or give a hug or just take a walk,” I replied.
“All okay, but you are no better. You get angry at slight provocation,” my friend said.
"I don’t think so.”
“You do,” he insisted.
“No…,” I screamed with fury.
“There you go..,” laughed my colleague.
rr/Oct8
Monday, October 6, 2008
Stupid fanatics
Hey fanatic...Whom are you trying to protect? Oh, "your" God! Should it not be the other way around?
RR/Oct.6, 2008
RR/Oct.6, 2008
Two little ‘monsters’
At a time when people are too busy to find time even for their own families, guests are often considered pests. One can imagine the plight of the host when a visitor enters the house along with two mischievous kids.
I had a taste of this experience last week. I was merrily walking near the famous Clock Tower in Deira Dubai when a familiar face greeted me. “Hey. You have forgotten me?” he yelled. This was followed by an accusation: “These days people forget even their own relatives.”
I whacked my mind repeatedly and recollected that he was a distant relative.
“Why don’t you drop in tomorrow?” I asked as a matter of courtesy. And the price I had to pay was heavy.
He landed with his wife and two young “monsters.” The first casualty was the TV remote control which the boys grabbed as soon as they entered the house. In no time it was broken. My wife had laid out a new carpet which we usually take out only when visitors arrive. As the family sat on the carpet, my wife offered coffee. The younger boy, who was engrossed in a heated argument with his sibling, sprang for the beverage and down came the cups of hot coffee, adding a new decoration to the carpet. I thought the parents would thrash the boys, but the mother quickly remarked: “See how naughty my son is.”
Not naughty, but a terror, I told myself.
While parting one of the boys rang the door bell six times and our neighbour came out, flashed a dirty look and disappeared with a “be careful” warning look.
It's six days now and my wife is still not talking to me.
RR/ Oct.6, 2008
I had a taste of this experience last week. I was merrily walking near the famous Clock Tower in Deira Dubai when a familiar face greeted me. “Hey. You have forgotten me?” he yelled. This was followed by an accusation: “These days people forget even their own relatives.”
I whacked my mind repeatedly and recollected that he was a distant relative.
“Why don’t you drop in tomorrow?” I asked as a matter of courtesy. And the price I had to pay was heavy.
He landed with his wife and two young “monsters.” The first casualty was the TV remote control which the boys grabbed as soon as they entered the house. In no time it was broken. My wife had laid out a new carpet which we usually take out only when visitors arrive. As the family sat on the carpet, my wife offered coffee. The younger boy, who was engrossed in a heated argument with his sibling, sprang for the beverage and down came the cups of hot coffee, adding a new decoration to the carpet. I thought the parents would thrash the boys, but the mother quickly remarked: “See how naughty my son is.”
Not naughty, but a terror, I told myself.
While parting one of the boys rang the door bell six times and our neighbour came out, flashed a dirty look and disappeared with a “be careful” warning look.
It's six days now and my wife is still not talking to me.
RR/ Oct.6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
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