My Colleagues: My Bosses..
"Call me Sir, if you don't, Its your loss"....said one of the colleagues at my office. I started thinking about how I had started work about 4 years ago at Shoppers Stop in Delhi and how my Centre head had asked me to address him by his first name. But I opted to call him BG, Biswajeet Ghoshal.
Thats where my professional career started from...And four years on... I am asked to just reverse what I've been following... I looked straight into his eyes and simply refused to understand what he said. It came as a shock to me, I couldn't believe my ears... How can a professionally managed company be a workplace for someone like this...
And then I just saw our MD's face floating next to my colleagues.. Poles apart... Both opposite to each other. One stands for no terms and titles and the other one wants serfdom to prevail. So shall I be a serf ? Shall I ask the Queen to give him a title of OBE ? No, thats not OBC, OBE is Officer of the British Empire. Shall I do that ?
Anyways, jokes apart. I would try and come back to where I left the track from. I tried thinking about what went wrong where. And to my wonder, I couldn't come to a point where I could satisfy myself with a conclusion.
Just one thought kept flashing in and out, there was indeed something wrong at the recruitment level? Or was it the skills training that was missing?
And I managed to narrow down on the skillset training. For a moment I had forgotten that I studied in a Government school and came from a not so professional background. I tried learning everything that I could while I worked, while I worked for those long strenuous hours. I tried to imitate my bosses and walk around, talk like them and conduct myself like them. I looked upto them. I wanted the fluency, the command that they had over the subject. And I think I managed to do these things quite efficiently. Hats off to myself!!
This person, I mean my colleague am sure had a background like me, May be he didn't get an opportunity to see how things work at professionally managed firms and how better things are when approached in a professional manner.
But then, I must admit that it does feel great to be called 'Sir'. It really does. Whenever I travel, the cabin crew calls me Sir, whenever I call the customer service, Sir is what I hear. Its indeed great to hear yourself being addressed with that title (which you dont deserve at times). But then I remember, before going for my PG course in journalism, I managed to be a trainer with the last company that I worked for. And what do you do when you become a trainer? Obviously, you wear formals! wear that stern look on your face at all the times of the day, even when you sleep.
So I slowly began to get cold response from people around me. My team members were never willing to talk to me. Even my seniors thought that I wasn't an easy to approach creature. Believe me people, I mean seniors, the constipated wear doesn't actually help. I know all the offices have some sadomasochistic seniors, who just derive pleasure out of those frightened looks on the faces around.
I know of some people who would just call their juniors to their desk and make them stand their like Pehredaars and continue working on their systems. And then when they actually turn to see whether that person is there, they have raised eyebrows, as if they weren't expecting that little elf like junior to be there, who is regretting having made a decision to work at such a workplace.
Khabar Har Keemat Par..Kab Tak ?
All I see when I come in the mornings, on the empty roads in Mumbai are countless ads... Of those of innerwear, of those of TV channels and what not. One such as caught my sight, One of the news channels, Which has a punchline "Khabar har kimat par".
"Fuck him, Kill him" said the news consultant for our channel..I am not old enough to write things about the newsrooms, editors, shows.. But I think I am aged enough to write a blog on what happens around and not pass any judgement.
This man was obviously not amused when he saw the person whom he wanted first on his channel, appear on the other channels.
The man I am talking about is one of the richest Indians, if he decides to change his business focus, he might end up buying the channel I work for and would still have an appetite to buy more channels.
Everything seems to be an exclusive piece for every news channel. I am never surprised when I see multiple channels, running the same news story as exclusive. Not at all surprised....
A few weeks ago, a so-called motoring specialist/ reporter got this news that Tata had won the bid for Jaguar and Land Rover. He suddenly became a star and everyone wanted that piece of news.. Just everyone. The channel even ran the news. And then came the best part, Someone somewhere in US denied these reports and the whole world came crashing down for the channel and obviously for the reporter.
I would like to know the number of years this reporter had spent in auto industry before he actually got on to shamelessly discussing boardroom secrets of Ford.. Of all the companies FORD!! For heaven's sake, Henry must be tossing and turning in that Dearborn grave.
So where does the problem actually lie ? Is it with the speculation thats been woven around the deals these days? Or is it reporter's fault. Well the whole problem lies with the world wide web, which seems to be an easy way out thing for reporters of today.
Before actually stepping out in open, they would log on and get as much information as possible, which is most of the times biased, because they never care to look at more than an article or two.
Mumbai I've arrived!!!!
Been a very long time since I last wrote something on u my lost blog. Goodness I didn’t get any reminder from the blog people to show some activity.
Let me admit this, I've been trying to trace myself down in this city. I've been trying to keep a track of the fast moving locals, back-to-back bulletins at my offices, New faces as my bosses everyday...
Putting in a lot of efforts to stay awake in those late night journeys in the locals. Making myself used to that thak thak music of a blind man's stick in the locals.
Trying to not use my raincoat, which is again not mine but borrowed from a friend, by taking shelter under the flyovers. While I walk under the flyovers, I try and not step on the people who have a home right under the flyover and right amid those TV18 cars parked there.
I was taken aback the day I stepped down from Ranakpur Express at Bandra Terminus, It all looked the same it looked on the TV. A sea of faces and that too wearing the same expression, all of them trying to run from one station to the other...
I first tried to understand the running around of people myself, but I did nt get it... I might sound dumb but I just didn't get it...So I decided I would just catch hold of one of those running across the stations. And I managed to ask this man, “Bhaiya yeh log bhaag kyun rahein hain?” And the reply was not what I had expected. "Bhaiya Kisko bolta hai ?" I ended up making a fool of myself.
So now I remember what my friend had mentioned once. Mumbai people don’t like to be called Bhaiyas. All thanks to Balasaheb, and his movement against bhaiyajis from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. And yes of course, my favorites Tamilians. I think Balasaheb's movement has been long forgotten. But yes the words still have trigger effect in them.... And it didn’t take me long to understand that.
Anyways, I tried forgetting calling anyone by that name.
So here I was trying to understand how things work at the stations. Mumbai stations are self-sustaining entities, its not that Indian stations isn’t like that. But life at these stations never seems to cease. You get Vada Pav as breakfast/lunch/dinner here. Thanks to this desi burger, I managed to save on my lunch that day.... Will write more... keep reading this space...
From the Half Record Entry of 3rd January 2007. …
Getting up early in the morning was not easy and the thought of being left behind was not that pleasing... So I decided to not sleep at all the entire night and watch movies. I must confess that I got silos of movies, all thanks to my friend who left his flat under my supervision while he's away in UK working on software systems there. He obviously is good at burning CD's. So here I was going through the movies that I had, a wide range to choose from. Finally I decided to start with the coca-cola kid, followed by Bloody Sunday (Irish: Domhnach Na Fola), an Irish Movie, More of a documentary. Both of them were good to watch as they kept me up. Coca-Cola kid was just farce but then there was something in the Bloody Sunday that moved me.
It reminded me of the Jalianwala Bagh tragedy that struck Indian Freedom Movement where a peaceful procession was rounded and slaughtered by the Brits. It was all about the civil rights, the scene is setup in the Londonderry area of the Northern Ireland. The local MP organizes a peaceful march, it seems all well until a bunch of youngsters start pelting stone at the forces that were deployed all along the march path. Army was sure of hitting people with all their force. This film is a perfect example of how Army can turn brutal, which still happens, which is still overseen by the number of enquiry commissions that are setup repeatedly. British army no doubt was brutal to the people. Firing continued even when people waved white flags, crying out for a ceasefire.
To cover up for the rest of the hours I watched two other movies, viz Analyze that and the Coca Cola Kid. Again, good enough pictures to keep me up till 4:30 in the morning. Taking bath early in the morning even in a city like Chennai can freeze one to death. I never believed that watching movies can be tiresome, but then yes it indeed is tiresome especially when you watch them out of sheer boredom.
My friends from the hostel asked me if I would like to go with them, but then I turned down the proposal. I looked for a cab service number, but then got none. I suddenly wanted some taxi visiting card on my table, searched my entire flat, but got none. Anyways, I weighed all the options and finally decided to make a move, thinking of getting an auto or a taxi at 4.30 in the morning. While moving towards the main roar, I heard some bus approaching me, I shrugged the thought that it was the public transport bus, but whoa, there was I was flagging 17D, which was to take me to Chennai Central. Chennai gets up early, I realised this when I got a bus full of passengers at 4.30 in the morning. Not bad, I thought to myself, I’ve never been happy with the Chennai Transport in all the 6 months that I’ve spent here.
Finally, here I was waiting in front of the Higginbotham’s (the book shop) for my group. Waiting there, I looked around and realised that I was standing at one of the most commercialised railway stations in the country. The sight was impressive, the waiting lounge was better than what they have at the International Airport with Flat Screen 42” Plasmas installed in every nook and corner of the waiting lounge. The place has coffee shops, internet café, restaurants and a double story book shop. What else can one ask for at a railway station?
I decided to spend some time in the internet café, While I wrote a mail to my landlord about my week long trip, I looked around to see the people who were busy surfing the net, Most of them were busy scrapping people on Orkut. Orkut seems to have taken people with all its might. It’s hard to avoid it, but then I think I am mastering the art of ignoring it. I got no space to move my arms, every time I tried typing a little bit faster, I ended up hitting the kid sitting next to me, I felt frustrated initially but then I thought it was the way systems were fitted in that hub was the only way out. After all what can we expect out of a place like a Railway station, at least I was getting to surf the net.
I kept looking around, studying people; the station was full of restless souls, waiting for their delayed trains. A group of foreigners with the new found love for the land in their eyes. They looked spiritually inclined, may be they were just high on dopes. Getting high on dopes is another way of connecting to God, that’s what people say. Stood in front of me, someone with an IIM T-shirt, well I must say it’s a style statement to wear a T-Shirt from an elite institution, especially in India. That’s a silent declaration of what you are and where you belong. While I was still studying this guy, I heard someone calling me, here was our college hero, Sriram Iyer. Iyer is what everybody calls him. While I thanked God for some company, I looked around for the IIM guy and he was nowhere in sight. Shrugging the thought, we started talking about the mode of transport that we used on our way to station, while he used the local train, I used the bus. We kept wondering about the efficiency of the public transport system in Chennai. Slowly the entire group of 21 students turned up, 5 from Radio, 6 from the New Media and 10 from the Print. Our mentor Mr. V. Krisha Anantha too arrived in a while. Finally the long wait was over; we got our seats and fitted our bags in the slots. As the train chugged out of Chennai Central, I dreamt of Coimbatore and the lush green Western Ghats mountain ranges. I knew the trip will be an adventure full of blast with VKA accompanying us.
To be Continued....
Labels: Random
The Folded Sleevs....
“I remember you very well; you had folded your shirt sleeves when you appeared for the interview” claimed Venky, my Tamil colleague at the Shoppers Stop. He was always well dressed, although he too worked at the same level as I did, Trainee Customer Care Associate. He was close to my heart, we discussed all our problems and things that made us laugh. I went back to the day when I had come for the interview for the job that paid 3200 a month. That was the time when I had no experience and was desperately looking for jobs. I went round and round places. My results were not yet out. People across the desk would ask me “Do you have a 12th pass certificate?” I didn’t know what to tell them. I was desperate to start working and earning my own money. One fine morning I saw the Shopper’s Stop ad, I decided to try my luck out there. I can remember exactly the only pair of formals that I had at that time. The shirt was old and bought from Janpath, a street where you get cheap stuff. It was of course branded and costed me just 100 bucks. But there was one not so serious problem with the shirt; the sleeves were shorter than my long hands. So every time I went for interview, I would give them one fold.
My school shoes were no good for job interviews. I used my dad’s outdated heeled shoes. Shopper’s stop was not far from my home. Just walking distance, I got all dressed up and headed for interview. Once I was there, I saw a sea of faces of people who had come there for the job. I always felt good when I was in my only pair of formals. Most of them were from the North Eastern part of India. Although I felt good, still I felt dumb when people looked at me as if they were laughing at my formals and the school tie on an Aigner Shirt. I followed the procedure of submitting my resume with the receptionist and waiting for my name to be called out. I waited for a very long time, finally I decided during the lunch break to go out and soothe my tummy with some chhole bhature. It was striking when I saw hundreds of people eating at eateries like McDonalds and just outside the mall there were people like me eating at 5Rs a plate at a Thela. I came back and waited, still there were no signs of my name being called out. I kept thinking of approaching the beautiful receptionist. But then I was too conscious and frightened at the idea of speaking to such a beautiful girl. Finally I gathered some courage and walked up to her and asked her “My name has not been called out yet, I’ve been waiting since 10 in the morning”, I made conscious efforts of speaking grammatically correct English. She asked for my name, and checked in her papers and said that my name had been called out but I was not there. I felt like a moron then, she asked me to wait till all the candidates were interviewed. So I was the last candidate for the day. I didn’t mind, as my home was nearby. I preferred to stay out of the office as it was already looking like the passport office, No space to stand. Everybody was trying to grab the free cup of coffee from the Nescafe vending machines inside the office. I preferred going out and listening to some free music at the Music World. I loved walking around the mall and checking and adoring accessories and apparels which were far out of reach for a person like me. I managed to report back at the office before I could miss the second chance to appear for the interview.
Finally my name was called out and I got into the HR Manager’s cabin, he was a tall fellow and looked suitable for his position. First his eyes scanned me from my shirt collar to the heels of my outdated pair of shoes. He signalled towards the chair, I bowed and greeted him. He was looking at my folded sleeves, I sensed the trouble. Finally he broke the silence and asked me why I was dressed in formals; I said it feel good to be in formals. The question that followed was something unexpected, “Why have you folded your sleeves?” I couldn’t say anything but gave a false excuse “Sir it was hot outside.” I gave him an apologetic look, as if I had committed a crime by folding my sleeves. I tried to fit in my arms into the sleeve, must say that I managed that pretty well. I managed the interview well and I knew that my chances of getting through were good………
Friends in this age.
It was a slow Sunday morning, I had logged into my email account to check e-mails and laugh at the jokes that I’ve read time and again. There was no one was online to occupy my time. Bored, I started to explore the settings of my e-mail account. I came across the contact list that had kept growing, never edited, ever since I had created the account. There were close to 200 names, addresses of former colleagues, bosses and classmates.
As I went through the list, I was reminded of the last time that I had spoken to each one of them. The bad times, the good times, the times that would repeat all came rushing back. One by one, I started taking off the names that were no longer relevant. The days gone by rolled like a film in front of me. Every name had some memory, some story attached to it. Each had played a part in my life at some part of time. Today, it is very common to make new friends and forget the old ones. It could be because now more than ever, people change jobs, schools frequently. Life moves fast, faster than it has ever moved in the past.
I envy my dad, as he has friendships that date back to his school days. The fact is that all friends in life are temporary. Everything in today’s world has an expiry date and they all end with time, things of daily consumption and friendships, relations they all end with time. It was just about a year and a half back when I would spend early morning hours with my office colleagues at the Dhaba during early morning hours outside our office. We would discuss our office problems and try and devise a solution for them. Now I don’t even get to talk to those friends. The word “Transitional” explains it all; every one wants to establish that comfort level for whatever time they are around with you and then just forget you and move on.
While leaving jobs, we just see our migration from one company to another one at a good package, but we fail to see the good old colleagues that we develop through a course of time. For some time, memories live. They fade away with time; we loose touch then online touch too. The digital thread that binds us is not strong enough as is claimed by the IT people. We move with jobs, with colleges, with schools with times. Every name carried some importance at one point of time, but with time their importance fades… Finally the identities die and we take them off our lists.
The digital age is a great contributor in increasing the distance between people, friends. Thinking of my office I remember of what I did. Earlier people used to go to everyone individually and wish them. Now instead of what happened previously, they just log into their accounts and say hellos to all their friends. Chat limits one’s talks to hi’s and hello’s. I don’t remember to have chatted in details; it was just few keys that I pressed on the keyboard. Life has become easier, but the distances between people have increased.
As I walk back from College to my Hostel everyday, I ask myself how long I would manage to be in touch with my classmates, the teachers who teach me here. The answers never come back. May be I also got into the digital format like others….
A Small incident...
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with him since Tuesday. And no one seems to be responding to the call, where do you think he’ gone?” I asked my friend Arvind. It all seemed to have happened just yesterday. But a number of years have passed since I was in the 9th standard.
It was during one of the term exams that Saurabh was caught cheating. As a result his paper was cancelled. I knew his problem; he didn’t study well and gave all his time to cricket. I requested our subject teacher to re-consider Saurabhs’s case. Finally by the end of the day, Ms. Sodhi our history teacher agreed to let him re-appear for the test the next day.
He was broken; being a friend I accompanied him all the way to his colony gates. He was a happy kid, but it was just not his day. I used to call some of my friends in the evenings; he too was one of them. I tried calling him that day too, but nobody replied.
Saurabh didn’t come to the school the next day. I had to bear the brunt of having taken his side in front of Ms. Sodhi. She was angry at me and blamed me for taking his side. “See I told you, you dare not come to me again as an advocate of Saurabh, I know him very well, he must be playing cricket somewhere, while we wait for him to write the exam.” I had no argument, dejected; I walked back to my class. Throughout the day, I kept regretting to have requested for Saurabh, how dumb I was to request for people as useless as him. He, like me was regular, attended school, but skipped some classes occasionally.
I tried reaching him again, but to no avail, nobody replied. I kept calling him for the next 2 days. It was strange, I sensed some trouble. I asked for his flat number from our common friend Arvind. First I thought I would visit his flat, but then I thought I would rather keep calling him. Finally on the 4th day his brother picked up the call, I asked for Saurabh. He came on the phone.
Me: Hi Saurabh! Kaisa hai yaar? (How are you man?)
Saurabh: Hi Pukhraj, Can I talk to you later?
Me: Why Yaar? Come to the grounds. We’ll play some cricket.
Saurabh: Yaar, I really can’t talk to you now. Can we talk some other day?
Me: But what is it? Tell me Yaar? What is it that’s troubling you? Is Sodhi troubling you?
Saurabh: No yaar “(He said with slightly irritated tone)
Me: Acha, Can you come down? We can meet and talk at your colony gates?
Saurabh: Wait… I’ll come in 10 minutes.
I waited for him, I felt uncomfortable, and I had never felt like this before. May be because most of the times I waited for him to go to the grounds and play. There was something odd in his tone. Finally he showed up, he looked like as if he hadn’t slept for a long time. To sum up his condition in one word, I would say he looked hysterical. I said hi, to which he didn’t reply. He was trying to conceal something from me.
As we walked towards the park, I asked him several questions, he kept quiet throughout. Seated in the park, we looked up at the setting sun, finally he broke down and cried and said “My Father’s no more…He died of a heart attack day before yesterday.” Everything seemed to have stopped for that moment, the noise that came from the kids playing in the park faded. The moment froze, I had no words. I didn’t know what to say. I looked at his face and thought of the days ahead of him. He was still a kid just like me. Saurabh was a happy child, why him? I asked myself, the God. I walked back home and kept wondering about Saurabhs’s position.
The next day I informed my class teacher about it. And as friends, we all as a class decided to go to his place to comfort him, to show him that we were all there for him when he needed us the most. We all went to his place, sat there for a while, while we were told by his uncle how it all happened. A sudden chest pain as it happens in most cases. He was rushed to the hospital, but didn’t make it. After sitting there for a while we all decided to leave, Saurabh asked to stay for some time and started arranging for tea, we all politely said no to the tea, leaving that for some other day.
I still remember, I was the only one of the group who took some time leaving his place. I talked to Saurabh for a while and hugged him; I knew he needed that the most. I walked back home that day thinking about Saurabhs’s life from that point onwards.
Although we both got into different streams after our 10th standard, but for the two years, the 9th and the 10th standard, I helped him on academic as well as Personal fronts and continue to do so till date. Just one incident changed the way I looked at him, changed the way we took each other as.
Freedom of Expression ?
Recently the social networking site www.orkut.com was in news when the Bombay High Court ordered the state Government to initiate legal proceedings against it in response to a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) filed by advocate Yugant R Marlapalle. The website is a host to a “We Hate India” Community by a Russian Miraslov Stankovic. It states that the community is against all those people who are against Pakistan. The community has a picture of people burning the Indian Tri-Color. It reads “The Sole purpose of the community isn’t meant to offend India; it’s against those people who are against Pakistan.” It also talks about India’s oppressive and hostile approach. After the news of the High Court was out the number of members of the community went down from 100 to 91.
Marlapalle, a lawyer by profession claimed that he was in for the freedom of speech but not at the expense of the rights of the people of India. On the other had, a Google Official said that just like offline world, there are some people who may object to some things in the online world too. One has to agree with the Terms of Service in order to post comments and communities Orkut. Google has taken the issue seriously and might remove the community if it is not complying with the Terms of Service. The Orkut case is a reminder of the blog banning controversy in India where in the backlash from the masses resulted in Government waiving off the ban off the blogs.
India which is already grappling with the terrorist menace needs to regulate the content to some extent as it is suspected that the community has been started by some terrorist groups and sympathizers based in Pakistan. In such cases, websites like Orkut can very well be used to spread hate and propaganda. This again comes under the incitement of violence, keeping this in mind; the community should be taken off.
This case raises lots of questions, some for the order and some against the order. Terminating or banning a community would mean curbing the Freedom of Expression [Article 19(1A)]. But the freedom of expression is subject to reasonable restrictions when it comes to the Sovereignty and Integrity of India. “We Hate India” community targets India on behalf of Pakistan. This targets the friendly relations between the two countries.
This can also be taken as a case under 124(a) that deals with the Sedition, which targets one who by words or by expression of any kind or attempts to bring or provoke a feeling of hatred, contempt or disaffection towards the Government established by law.
The Indian Constitution provides little protection against the banning or censorship. Although it professes to give all citizens “The freedom of speech and expression” that is qualified by so many exceptions which are called reasonable restrictions. These include the sovereignty of India, security of the state, public decency and morality etc. These restrictions make almost all protections meaningless. It falls upon Government bureaucrats to decide what falls within what exceptions. It is because of the reason that India had a long period wherein the government was allowed by the masses to regulate the content that citizens can watch.
Where once censorship was taken for granted, it is now debated, and the army of news websites that have recently opened shop regularly feature debates on the subject. Such voices are still few, and these protests not yet loud enough to counter the regressive forces that routinely stifle freedom of expression in India. But they are growing, and offer hope for India’s future.
Old Fashioned Government
Being in a Journalism School, we are supposed to do some stories every week. My mentor wants me to do two stories this week; I am left to decide the content for my stories. Well before I go any further, I must write a disclaimer. I neither want to sound bookish nor want to sound like some author. I would write the way I normally write. Most of the times, I don't write, but scribble. Well let me move from confessions.
So I started thinking what stories to do, flipping through the days newspaper, I saw that the police is Chennai recently raided a three star pub. The reason given by the police was, pub flouting timeline set by the Prohibition & Excise Department.
It is sad, but true that even though we all live in a free country, we are not free when it comes to deciding on things that we actually want to do. Well I must talk about the Indian ministers; they change colours with the surroundings. When addressing youth, they are all in for the liberalisation. But on the other hand, when they address the elders in the community, they blame it all on the Western Countries. India, today is the back office for the world, and that’s something accepted by all and China the factory for the World.
I myself worked in the BPO Industry for nearly 3 years, and I feel that if Indian Government wants to attract foreign players, it need to think about various things. It can’t simply ignore the Western ways of doing things. Cities like Delhi, Bangalore and Mumbai are adapting themselves to the changing scene and the taste of people.
Just yesterday, by chance I met a Danish Journalist, Tommy Brandi Krog. I asked him just one question “What do you think about the operational restrictions on Pubs and Bars in Chennai?” to which he answered “Well, Government in here, is old fashioned whereas people are not”. A very interesting point indeed, we are the ones who select a party to govern us. But when I say we, am I really addressing the people? Well I don’t think so. People that Tommy talked about are people of my age group which is 20-25. So I got my answer and that too in a tone which sounded like a warning for the TN Government, “You better mend your ways, or no more business for you.” (**To whomsoever it may concern**)
Today I had the privilege of interviewing Mr. Sandeeprai Rathore, Joint Commissioner of Police (JCP) for Chennai Central. He got furious when I used the word moral policing. He claimed that there exists no moral policing at any level. Adding on to that he claimed that they are least bothered about what people wear. Ok!! Mr Rathore, your point taken, he doesn’t even know that some guests at the hotel that was raided were misbehaved with by his men. Anyways I lost Mr. Rathore, who can win Police in India. “If police is lenient in these matters, then press will say that the Hotel owners greased my palms” hmmm. So Mr. Policeman is afraid of Press. I kept wondering, what if there were no press?
Critical Pluto
Ever since its discovery in 1930, Pluto has been surrounded by several controversies. With the redefinition of a planet by the International Astronomical Union (IAU), Pluto is no longer a planet. This decision gives way to several questions including whether Pluto will be replaced by some other planet? Will the syllabi of schools be revised? Most importantly whether astrology will be reviewed keeping the changes in mind?
Pluto does not figure in the navagrahas in Indian Astrology. Navagraha stands for 9 planets, which include the Sun, Moon and some other planets. So the recent astronomical changes would not affect Indian Astrology. However, Pluto does have a place in Indian mythology. Pluto and Neptune were considered dark planets hence Pluto was assigned the name Yama, the guardian of hell in Hindu mythology.
Pluto is an alternate name for the Greek God 'Hades' but it has often been used in Roman mythology to address the God of Underworld. Pluto play a significant role in the Greek Astrological charts, as it has an extremely slow orbit and takes many years for to pass through the zodiac signs. Even astrology admits that Pluto's orbit irregular.
Whether or not Pluto is classified as planet is relevant to modern practitioners of astrology. The qualities associated with Pluto are still applicable whether it is called a planet or an asteroid. Astrologers use other bodies in addition to planets in their calculations, such as asteroids. Ceres, an asteroid, one of the bodies they may call a planet, already is in use by modern Astrologers. Other asteroids like Juno, Pallas, and Vesta are also used in astrology.
As per the new definition of a planet set by IAU, Pluto does not qualify because of its tiny size and highly eccentric orbit. All planets can not be the same; they have different characteristics. What happened with Pluto can also happen with some other planet in the times to come. Definitions keep on being revised with time. Astrology can not be changed with every change in the definitions. Astrology largely depends on heavenly bodies and not on the physical composition or characteristics of those bodies. Both the terms, Astrology and Astronomy sound the same but have very few things in common. Astrology refers to several systems, traditions and beliefs in which knowledge of positions of celestial bodies is required for necessary predictions. Whereas Astronomy is concerned with the evolution, physics, chemistry and motion of these celestial objects.
Though the resolution was passed in a raised-hands vote at the IAU; there still lies a possibility of Pluto bouncing back as a Planet. The debate is still on as Pluto does have some characteristics of a Planet under the new definition. Just like other Planets, Pluto has gravity, moons, active surface and pronounced seasons unlike comets and asteroids. Every couple of years, this issue flares up to end where it all started. Scientists at NASA’s robotic mission to Pluto have slammed the IAU ruling to strip Pluto of its planet status calling the new definition inconsistent.
Old Amma
“Amma I want that sweet, no ...Not that one, yes that fish shaped one” that’s what one of the kids asked for. Everybody called her Amma. The wrinkles on her face started nowhere and ended nowhere. She was the first one whom I had noticed when I first went to the school as a kid in the 3rd grade. She used to sit outside our school gates. As a kid I never bothered about the things around my school, all I was bothered about were the Games periods. With time I grew older trying to understand the world around. As a kid I had the privilege of being picked up by my servant. He used to come to pick me up on his bicycle, always late. I used to sit with Amma talking to her near the school gates, under the watchful eyes of the guard. She exactly looked like my grandmother. I never got an opportunity to be with my grandmother as she lived in the village and never preferred coming to the city. Whenever I talked to Amma, I always saw myself as her grandson. She was always busy with the kid customers. I liked sitting in the winter sun and looking at her. She had no teeth and that made her look cute like my grandmother. We kids used to call her from our school gates during the school timings as the guard would not allow us to step out. With time I got curious about Amma’s family. I had questions about her family, whether she had a family at all?
I never asked her any questions, I don’t know why. I know I wasn’t that intelligent to have considered the emotional part of Amma’s answer to my question. Then one day I asked the guard about her, he at first did not take me seriously but then answered all my questions. She was a widow, had two sons. Spent all her life’s earnings sending them to schools and colleges and ultimately they were so brilliant that they left India, leaving behind their poor mother too. As a child I always had the curiosity of knowing the poor, their families, how they survived. I still remember I was once talking to Amma while I waited for my servant, as a surprise my mother came to pick me up that day. She was mad at me, asked me not to interact with the hawkers, not to come out of the school. Upon being asked what’s wrong? She would not reply and just imposed her decisions on me.
Amma’s schedule was the same as ours. She was the first one to be at the School Gates every morning. I felt bad for her in the winters. She had just one sweater, when I was all covered from head to toe. I always wished I could get her a sweater and a scarf. In fact I always gave her assurance that the day I start earning I would get her a pair. I still remember…It was a rainy Monday, Amma used to be late on the rainy days. Even though I was in the 10th Grade I would always go to her and buy a candy or two, not because I liked candies but for my liking for Amma. Amma was nowhere to be seen that day. I asked the guard, he stated that she was not keeping well. The next day I noticed somebody taking away Amma’s little shop. The shop was in fact a wooden Box tied to an electricity pole. I was curious as usual. I had this pre conceived notion of bad but still I asked him “She expired in the early morning hours” and he walked away … The rain was hitting hard on my face. I saw him walk away with Amma’s belongings. Nobody noticed Amma’s absence and the tears in my eyes as it was still raining…
