The Killer Guide!

Guiding project work of students is an integral part of my profession.  I have come across many interesting incidents while guiding students in their project work.  Over the years the students have started copying whatever material is available on the internet and submitting the same as project report, without even reading it. So, I keep telling my students that the only unfortunate soul destined to read your report is your project guide! But one particular incident is unforgettable.

Once a boy submitted a copy of his project report to me.  While reading, I saw something strange in ‘Acknowledgements’.  I did not know whether to laugh or fume.  That evening during a project review meeting I brought this to the notice of Prof. Malathi Bolar, who was the Director of my Institute at that time.  Prof. S N Murthy, a senior colleague and a good friend of mine, was also present.  We could not control our laughter reading what the boy had written.  Prof. Bolar said, ‘let us call this boy and have some fun’.  He was immediately summoned.  Prof. Bolar was a tough lady and getting summoned by her was itself enough to terrify anybody.  Slipping over the report to him, she said, ‘Read what you have written there. What does that mean?’  He picked up the report and started reading.  I could see his face turning pale as he progressed.  With shivering voice, he said, ‘I am sorry madam, I am really sorry.  I don’t know how this happened.  I will immediately change this madam, sorry madam……..’ 

This is what he had written in Acknowledgments: ‘I would like to thank Prof. M Ajoy Kumar for his assassination during the project work’!!! He probably wanted to write ‘Association’ or ‘Assistance’. 

While walking out of the Director’s office, Prof. Murthy whispered in my ear, ‘at last somebody showed the courage to tell you the truth’!!! We couldn’t stop laughing.  Few years later, when this boy came to meet me, I told him, ‘Hey, you are still around? I had assassinated you long ago!’

(Note: This boy is in touch with me.  Some of his batch mates may remember this incident.  I request you not to reveal his name or tag him in your comment.  My intention of writing this is just to share a funny anecdote, not to embarrass him)

 

AC Chair Car

When I was living at Ahmedabad, occasionally I used to travel to Mumbai for job interviews or for visiting my relatives.  All these journeys were by second / sleeper class train.  I had never travelled by an air-conditioned coach.  I always had a strong desire to travel by an AC coach, which was costly.  Once I managed to save enough for a Mumbai-Ahmedabad AC ticket.  During my next visit to Mumbai, I reserved AC Chair Car ticket by Karnatavi Express for the return journey.  Karnavati Express is a day train connecting Ahmedabad to Mumbai.  It leaves Ahmedabad early in the morning, reaches Mumbai by noon and returns to Ahmedabad the same night.

I was eagerly looking forward to the journey.  On the day of journey, I reached Mumbai Central Station well in advance.  I was really excited that I was about to travel by an air-conditioned coach.  I was wearing the best dress I had.  I bought Times of India and few English magazines.  After all, I was travelling by an AC coach, and I had to match the level of that class!  As I was entering the station, I heard an announcement, ‘Kind attention of the passengers travelling to Ahmedabad by Karnavati Express.  Due to some technical reason, AC Chair Car coach number C3 is not attached to the train today.  Instead, a second-class sitting coach, S15, has been attached.  Passengers travelling by C3 may please collect the fare difference from counter no.10.  The inconvenience is regretted’.  I pulled out my ticket - Yes, my reservation was in C3!  With a fallen face, I collected the fare difference and moved towards the second-class coach.  With lot of jealousy, I looked at those getting into the other two AC coaches – C1 and C2.  Meanwhile, the railway authorities were repeating the announcement in Hindi as well as Marathi!

Few months later I had to visit Mumbai again for attending a written test.  Again, I reserved the return ticket by AC Chair Car on Karnavati Express.  Since my ticket from Ahmedabad to Mumbai on the previous night was not confirmed, I had to travel the whole night by sitting, which was very uncomfortable.  I reached Mumbai in the morning and went straight to the test centre.  Due to some reason, the test got delayed.  When I came out, I barely had time to reach the railway station.  I quickly jumped into a taxi and asked him to rush me to Mumbai Central.  Wading through Mumbai’s traffic, when he dropped me in front of the station, it was almost the time for the train to depart.  I ran into the station.  From a distance itself I could see - there was no train on the platform.  I thought I had missed the train.  But the platform was full of people.  When I reached the platform, to my relief, I came to know that the train coming from Ahmedabad had not reached yet.  All trains from Ahmedabad were delayed due to derailment of a goods train near Vadodara.  Karnavati Express would arrive by 4.30 pm, I was told.  I had three more hours at my disposal.  So, I enjoyed a sumptuous lunch at a nearby restaurant.  The heavy meal and previous night’s lack of sleep made me slumberous.  I bought that day’s Times of India.  (No, this time it was not for reading in the train!) I moved to a relatively silent corner of the platform, spread the paper, and slept off.  After a while, I was awakened by the siren of a train.  It was not my train anyway.  Finally, Karnavati Express arrived at 5.30 pm.  Yes, the AC coach was very much there.  I jumped into the train and made myself comfortable on the cushioned seat, that too a window seat!  But, within few minutes of the train departing, the comfort of air-conditioning made it difficult for me to keep my eyes open.  I slept through almost the entire journey.  Past midnight when I got down at Ahmedabad Junction, though I didn’t enjoy it fully, one of my long-standing desires was fulfilled!

Roomies!

In September 1996 I moved from Kochi to Ahmedabad to join IIM. Throughout my school/college days I was a day scholar. So, I had never lived away from home till then. Initially I stayed with my cousin at Ahmedabad for a week. He was working for Airports Authority and was living at Sardar Nagar, near Ahmedabad Airport, which was far from IIM. So, I kept searching for accommodation near the campus. One day Chinnam Reddy, a colleague at IIM, told me that one of his room mates had vacated and I could join them. He took me to his place and showed around. It was a two-room accommodation on the first floor of a building near Vijay Char Rasta. There was a small balcony and a terrace. Along with Chinnam, two more were living there – Venkatraman, an officer at Corporation Bank and Pankaj Nautiyal, an executive in a private firm. I liked the place and told him that I would move the next weekend.

As planned, I reached the place with my luggage on Sunday morning. Chinnam introduced me to Venkat and Pankaj. I was not sure how I would adjust to the new circumstances. I told them I had some work in the city and left the place. I didn’t have anything specific to due. It was the initial difficulty of adjusting in a new place and the apprehensions of living away from home that made me come out. I moved around the city the whole day and returned by evening. To my surprise, all the three were waiting for me to take me out for a dinner as a welcome gesture! I was really touched by this. I told them I would be ready in fifteen minutes. Venkar Bhai (that’s how we called him as he was the eldest in the group) asked Chinnam and Pankaj to leave immediately to the restaurant and he waited for me to get ready. I didn’t know why those two had to go early. When we reached Topaz, a popular restaurant at Panjrapole, I realised why the two had left early. There was a big crowd in front of the restaurant waiting for their turn. There was a tall fat man standing at the entrance with a writing pad in his hand. People were supposed to reserve seats with him and as the tables got empty, he would call people inside! We had a sumptuous dinner that night. It was just the beginning of a wonderful camaraderie that lasted for almost two years.

We used to head to our workplaces in the morning and hardly got anytime to talk to each other in the mornings. It was in the evenings that we used to spend time together. We used to search for new food joints for dinner. We went straight to the terrace after the dinner with a small transistor radio. ‘Vividhbharti’ was our favorite station and the legendary Ameen Sayani, our favorite anchor. Sunday was meant for cleaning. Mostly we used to have only tea and biscuits on Sunday mornings from a nearby ‘chaiwala’. After cleaning the house and washing clothes, we used to head for a heavy lunch, followed by a siesta!

We represented various parts of this country – Chinnam Reddy from Hyderabad, Venkat Bhai from Chennai, Pankaj from Himachal, and I from Kochi. A mixture of Telugu, Tamil, Pahari, and Malayalam! So, we spoke mostly in Hindi or English. Disproving all my apprehensions, I thoroughly enjoyed their company. The two years that I had spent with them remains fresh in my memory. Unfortunately, I lost contact with Venkat Bhai and Pankaj after I moved out of Ahmedabad. Chinnam is in touch with me.

Forget mobile phones, none of us even had a still camera. So, I don’t have even a single picture of those days. A small idol of Ganesha gifted by Venkat Bhai adorns my pooja room even today and a pocket dictionary gifted by them on my birthday continues to be on my office table! 

Known Strangers

During my childhood, there was an old lady who used to sell roasted chickpea (kadala) and peanuts (kappalandi).  She was very old, short, and thin with a stoop.  Even at an advanced age she had to work to make both ends meet.  She always wore plain maroon or blue colour saree with black border.  Of course, the color of her saree was always dim.  She carried chickpea and peanuts in a big cloth bag on her shoulder.  She had a small cylinder-shaped measuring vessel made of aluminum.  She used to sell one heaped vessel of nuts for 10 paise.  She carried the bags on her shoulder and walked from street-to-street shouting “Kadala, Kadala, Kappalandi”.  Her voice was feeble and the pronunciation not clear.  Still, most of the people, including us, bought nuts from her.  More than taste of the nuts, lending a helping hand to her was the reason behind many people buying from her.  She was a quiet lady, who never spoke anything.  She would just come, give nuts, collect money, and keep moving.  I didn’t know anything about her; name, place of stay, her family, nothing was known.  I suppose the same was true with most of my neighbours too!

Another character that comes to my mind is a beggar, whose name was Hussain.  He was dumb.  Though his name was Hussain, people called him ‘Pottan’.  Pottan in Malayalam means idiot, but in colloquial language, it also means one who is dumb.  He used to come to our house almost twice or thrice a week.  He would stand near the gate and keep knocking till some of us saw him.  We used to give him something (mostly 10 or 20 paise coins).  He used to collect it and move to the next house.  My grandmother believed that no alms should be given on Tuesdays and Fridays and my parents continued this tradition.  So, when Hussain came on Tuesdays or Fridays, we used to ask him to come the next day.  He would still wait for some more time before leaving.  During festivals and other special occasions, we used to offer him food.  Beyond his name, we didn’t know anything about him. 

As I grew up, the frequency of visits by these two came down and eventually they stopped coming.  I am sure we all have such characters in our lives, whom we would have met a hundred times or more, and still, we didn’t know anything about them.  It could be anyone, the candy seller in front of the school, the rikshaw/cab driver, peon who rang the college bell, boy who served tea in the canteen, fruit vendor on the pavement, and so on and so forth!  Have we not met them so many times? Yes.  Do we know them? Yes.  But do we know them enough? No.  Still, their faces, voices, mannerisms, everything is permanently etched in our memory.  Yes, they are known to us, yet they are strangers.  W B Yeats says, ‘there are no strangers here, but friends you haven’t yet met’.  But the people mentioned by me are ‘strangers whom we met many times’…. So, they are ‘Known Strangers’!

Rajkumar

My cousin Venu did his Master’s in Engineering from Manipal Institute.  As part of his course, he came to Bangalore for internship in an organisation in 2000.  I invited him to visit me and spend a weekend with me at Tumkur.  So, Venu came to Tumkur on a Saturday morning.  He was supposed to return to Bangalore on Sunday evening.  I forced him to stay back.  Since the organisation where he was working was on the Tumkur-Bangalore highway, I told him, ‘You can go directly from Tumkur to your workplace on Monday morning’.  Venu agreed.  Venu is a good cook, so my intention of forcing him to stay back was to enjoy his cooking for another day!  As planned, Venu left for Bangalore on Monday early morning.  When I went to my Institute, I saw people discussing something serious.  One of them told me that the Kannada super star Rajkumar had been abducted by sandalwood smuggler Veerappan on Sunday night.  Initially I didn’t realise the gravity of the situation.  Later, when I came to know that shops and establishments were pulling their shutters down, traffic was being blocked everywhere and there was riot like situation in Bangalore, I grew anxious.  Since we didn’t have mobile phones, I could not contact Venu.  He had given me the phone number of his office.  I tried that number many times, but nobody answered the call.  As time passed, I grew more and more anxious.  I was also feeling guilty.  Had I not insisted on him staying back, he would have reached Bangalore on Sunday evening itself.  By noon I got a call from Venu that he safely reached his place of stay.  I had a sigh of relief.

Few years later, I was working on a World Bank funded project of MHRD in my Institute.  Every month we were supposed to visit the State Government’s monitoring cell and present the progress of the project.  The cell was functioning in a building close to Vidhan Soudha in Bangalore.  One day, four of us from the Institute hired a cab and went to Bangalore.  By the time we finished our work, we could see that the road in front of the building, which used to be very busy, had almost become empty.  Police vehicles were seen plying on both directions.  We got the news that Rajkumar had passed away.  Suddenly there was gloom everywhere.  Taking advantage of this, anti-social elements started creating trouble in the city.  The officers in the cell told us not to venture out till police brought the situation under control.  So, we stayed back in the office till 8 in the evening.  When we felt that things were under control, we came out.  As our car was turning near Hotel Chalukya, we could see a mob attacking a car on the other end of the road.  Our driver immediately turned the car to a small lane and sped through that.  Luckily our driver was well versed with the topography of that area.  So, he kept driving though small lanes avoiding all the main roads.  We could see trouble everywhere.  There was tension all around.  Anytime an angry mob could jump on to our car.  But luckily that didn’t happen.  Finally, when we hit the Tumkur road near Yashwantpur, police had brought the situation under control. 

Dr. Rajkumar was not only a superstar, but a nice and humble gentleman, loved and respected by everyone.  I never got an opportunity to see him live.  But whenever his thoughts come to my mind, I remember these two incidents. 

Kurta Challenge

Cheating in examinations is an age-old practice.  Even though I don’t endorse it, I have always been fascinated by the creative and innovative methods adopted by students for cheating.  Copying from a friend and carrying chits are the oldest and the most common methods.  But there is a long list of different methods used by students like, writing on parts of the body, on slippers, on the cover of calculator, hiding chits in the folded sleeves of shirt, and so on.  Cheating by switching off the video in the pretext of low bandwidth during online exams and hiding chits inside the face mask are the latest additions to the list, thanks to corona virus.  Earlier boys used to outwit girls, but now a days, girls have also picked up the skills and thus bridged the gender inequality in cheating in exams!

I don’t claim that nobody can cheat in my exams, but it is not easy to cheat when I invigilate, because, true to the word ‘invigilate’, I am usually very vigilant.  Few years ago, there was a girl in my institute who was known as ‘copy queen’ among the teachers.  Her answers used to be as perfect as the textbook.  Once I was evaluating her answer paper for a test which was invigilated by another teacher.  She had verbatim copied a fairly long sentence from the textbook.  Even the punctuations were perfectly in place.  I called her and asked how she could reproduce the answer with so much precision.  She told me that she had learnt it well.  I asked her to repeat the sentence, which she couldn’t.  I told her, ‘No problem, I understand that you would have learnt it by heart the previous day of the exam.  Now, when I ask you unexpectedly, you may not be able to answer.  So, please take 24 hours’ time.  Tomorrow you have to write this again in front of me.  If you are able to do so, I will give marks for this answer, otherwise, I will give zero marks for this question’.  She never came back!

She used to wear long kurta on the day of exams.  Her time-tested technique was to hide small chits by pinning them at the inner portion of her kurta, so that when she sits, the chits would be inside the kurta on her lap.  At regular intervals, she would lift the edge of the kurta, and copy from the chit.  When the invigilator came close, she would keep the kurta straight as if nothing had happened.  A senior student, sitting next to her in the exam hall, had alerted me about this.  During the next exam, when I was invigilating, I was sure that she would have come prepared.  I was prepared too! As expected, she came wearing a long kurta.  As soon as the exam started, I went and stood next to her.  Standing there, I kept a vigil on other students, but did not move an inch from there.  She was very uncomfortable, kept looking here and there and occasionally looked at me.  She pretended as if she was writing something.  I could see a smile on the faces of few other students, who would have guessed why I was standing there.  After about 20 minutes into the exam, she submitted the answer paper and left.  I am sure, she would have cursed me, but I was happy that I stopped her from cheating, at least in one exam!

(Note: Those who are interested in cheating in exams can find some innovative ways of cheating at the following link.  But, remember, your teacher might have also read this!)

https://www.boredpanda.com/best-exam-cheats-how-to-cheat-on-test/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

Chennai Express

After completing my studies, I was searching for a job.  I got a letter for the selection test for the post of Accounts Executive in Metals and Minerals Trading Corporation (MMTC).  The test centre was Madras (now Chennai).  So, I reserved ticket from Ernakulam to Madras by the Alleppey-Madras Express.  That was my first visit to Madras.  But what made me more uncomfortable was that it was my first overnight journey by train.  Before this, though I had travelled many times by train, all those journeys were for few hours, that too during daytime.

On the day of journey, I boarded the Alleppey-Madras Express in the evening from Ernakulam.  The train was to reach Madras the next morning.  I was allotted the middle berth in a sleeper coach compartment.  I occupied my seat.  I had no idea, how those seats got converted to beds in the night.  I was also anxious about the safety of sleeping on a rail berth.  However, I didn’t reveal this to anyone.  My co-passengers included a young boy and an elderly man.  After dinner, my co-passengers got ready to sleep.  The young boy lifted the middle portion of the seat and fixed the bed. He climbed to the upper bed and the elderly person occupied the lower one.  The young man took out a book from his bag and started reading lying on the berth.  (No mobile phones, tabs, or laptops those days!) Now it was my turn to climb to the middle berth.  I somehow managed to squeeze in.  I found it extremely uncomfortable to get stuck between two berths.  First of all, I didn’t get sleep due to the movement of train.  On the top of it, I had all sorts of apprehensions: Will I roll and fall down while sleeping? Will the upper berth fall on me? Will the chain holding the middle berth break? and on and so forth!  At night the speed of the train increased, which added to my apprehensions.  After a while, the young boy stopped reading, switched off the light and went to sleep.  I got down a couple of times and walked from one end of the coach to the other.  Almost everyone was sleeping.  Meanwhile a policeman patrolling the coach asked my whereabouts.  I told him I was going to the washroom.  I silently returned to my berth.  I couldn’t sleep at all, whereas everyone around me was in deep sleep, some snoring loudly!

In the middle of the night, without my knowledge, I slipped into sleep.  Suddenly something fell on me, and I got up in shock, thinking my worst fear had come true.  When I sat up, I couldn’t see anything.  I searched in darkness and found something.  It was the book my co-passenger was reading.  He had kept it on the berth, which slipped through the gap and fell on me!  I lied down for some more time without closing my eyes.  The train pulled into a big station.  I got up and went to the door.  It was Katpadi.  Sunlight was beginning to appear in the horizon.  I decided to stand near the door, enjoying the landscape, occasionally sipping hot coffee brought by early morning vendors.  I kept reading the names of the stations passing by, Arakkonam, Avadi, Perambur.  Slowly I could observe the changing landscape; the big, ancient, and historic city was approaching.  Finally, the train pulled into the huge, covered platform of Madras Central.  I got down from the train with a sigh of relief!

This was just the beginning of my rail journeys.  After this, I might have travelled more than hundred times by train to various destinations.  Still, the memory of the first journey is fresh!