Principles of Influence

How to influence your customers (or followers) to build a relationship with you? There are five ways in which the customer may get influenced. (ref: Robert Cialdini's principles of influence)

1.   Reciprocity  - You have done a favour on the customer, so he/she will do this favour on you

2. Social proof – Everyone is building a relationship with you, therefore the customer too must

3. Authority – An authoritative figure/expert/respected person/celebrity/government endorses you, so the customer must build a relationship with you

4. Likeability – Customer likes you, so builds a relationship with you

5. Commitment and consistency - Customer believes that you are equally committed to the (financial/political/social/relgious etc.) cause of the customer, so he/she builds a relationship with you. "Enemy's enemy is my friend" is an example of this principle.
6. Scarcity - Your service is scarce. It is now or never.

The path of truth

"Ye ishq nahi aasaan; aag ka dariya hai aur doob ke jaana hai"

This is an oft-repeated line in the social, literary, and entertainment industry in India. Loosely translated, it means that the path of love is not easy, almost akin to a river of fire through which one must immerse oneself fully to go forward.

The concept of "ishq" unlike the most popular connotation associated with it - the one that exists between two unrelated and intimate individuals - is instead a vast concept that can embody love for anything and anyone, even God.

Saints are said to have claimed to be "aashiqs" of the Almighty. Shayars, on the other hand, are said to have proclaimed their "ishq" for liquor. The basic idea, it seems to me, is that of a unadulterated, deeply passionate love for an entity.

The relentless pursuit of one's object of love, as many would have me believe, is fraught with innumerable hardships and that only the most devoted souls will have the courage to overcome them to meet their objectives. Many would fail, I am told, but those who do succeed are said to be truly blessed by the Almighty.

To me, however, this picture is incomplete. If I were to indulge in unfair means to secure the object of my love then would it justify my actions? Does the end justify the means?

I don't think so.

The difficulty in the path of love seems to arise not out of the goal of "love", but out of the "path" itself. There probably are more than one ways to pursue love, some good and some bad, but it is the path that one chooses that decides whether that pursuit of love is revered for ages to come.

As I ponder more about it, I realize that through the timeless love stories we celebrate and idolize not the "love" but the path that was chosen to pursue it.

This path is the path of truth. I will resist from using subjective terms such as good, moral, right etc. Truth in itself is absolute.

Following the path of truth and standing firm on it, as Raja Harishchandra had done, is what I respect. It requires great courage, I believe, to speak, hear and bear the consequences of truth. Lying perhaps is an easier option that I have often chosen to wriggle myself out of situations where the consequences of telling the truth would have been uncomfortable.

Following the path of truth is not equivalent to leading an honest life. In fact, honesty, is a consequence of truthfulness. Again, I would refrain from using subjective terms such as virtuous, moral, pious etc. Honesty, just like Truth, is an absolute entity that cannot be moulded according to one's own interpretation.

To lead one's life with absolute, dedicated, and passionate pursuit of truth while seeking one's objective is what I would call the path of "true love".

A Difficult Choice

Sankaran had a difficult decision to make. He was looking directly into the picture of his long-dead parents, his eyes almost begging forgiveness for even considering the idea his parents would have taken strong offence against at the slightest mention. All this time he diligently avoided meeting the gaze of Lord Murugan, his beloved deity, staring down at him from the painting atop the little shelf on which perched the photos and paintings of all the Gods and Goddesses that he had grown up worshipping.

The house of Sankaran on Vali street of Thangagramam was a picture in contrast. Among the row of little brick huts, that formed the landscape of this most neglected part of the village, Sankaran’s house was a pathetic mud structure, its roof half-covered with leaves and thatches, and the door ordained by a modest-sized symbol of his faith – ॐ. The doors of other houses, on the other hand, displayed large crosses proudly declaring their occupants’ embrace of a faith that claimed to bring them salvation from all the miseries that they had been brought up in and didn’t foresee an escape from in any imaginable future.

Sankaran belonged to the lowliest of all castes in the village’s society – a scavenging caste that, though central to the village eco-system, was always discriminated against. People of his caste were never included in any of the village festivals; they were banned from using common public spaces and utilities, and were not even allowed entry inside the village temple – the only abode of the Lord in whose eyes all men and women, as Sankaran had often heard as a little kid from his parents, were equal and worthy.

The Vali street lay on the outskirts of the village where no one of a nobler birth ever ventured near. It formed a part of the world conveniently forgotten and ignored by everyone else in the village. Centuries after centuries, generations after generations, and rulers after rulers came and went, but Vali street continued to languish in misery and sorrow. Not many had complained though. It was all considered a part of the justice system that God had designed around the actions of all things in this world – the system of Karma.

Sankaran too had been brought up in the same philosophy. His parents had often told him that their birth in the lowest caste was God’s way of punishing them for the bad deeds they had committed in their previous lives and that they must ensure that they lead a life of virtue if they seek salvation from this misery in their next birth. It was their unshakeable faith in this system that even a mention of conversion to another religion, and by that act defy what was ordained for them by God, horrified them to the extreme.

They had led good lives, Sankaran mused, and had died peaceful deaths, all in the unwavering devotion to God and his promise of salvation. But he had his own doubts. Life was becoming increasingly difficult to lead for him and his family. The world, it seemed to him, had moved on much faster than he had. The world that he now witnessed around him wore snazzy clothes, drove fancy cars, and lived in palaces. Deep in his heart he felt cheated by the society, by his parents, and by God for making him believe that he had no place in that new world. He wanted his children to study, wanted to buy them good clothes, wanted them to lead a life of respect, wanted them to be a part of the new world, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t take up any other profession even if he wanted to, not just because he didn’t know anything about anything else other than scavenging, but also because no one would let him. It was almost as if he was tied to a pole by a rope sanctioned by divinity frequently impaled by a spear designed by the society and then forced to keep his mouth shut and accept his agony and pain as his rewards.

But things were changing now. Ten years ago a group of very fair people dressed in a strange attire and speaking a strange language had come to the village. They were indeed strange because they did what was unthinkable for the rest of the villagers – enter Vali street. They knocked on every door, spoke to everyone, and offered everyone clothing, food, and money. And they did this at every house in the street. They had come to Sankaran’s house too, he remembered. Sankaran’s father, his face crimson, his eyes burning with rage, his fists closed, and his mouth uttering expletives that he had never imagined his father would ever utter, had literally driven them out of their house and had sternly warned them to not venture anywhere near his house or his family ever. He had realized later that those were missionaries, who had arrived professing a new God, a new religion, and a new promise of respite from their miseries.

Sankaran’s father may have despised those missionaries but to his dismay the others didn’t share either his reason or his faith in Karma. Slowly but surely, one by one, every family on Vali street deserted the faith of their forefathers and embraced the new faith that had come knocking on their doors. The missionaries promised them new jobs, promised their children education in their schools, promised them the opportunity to break the shackles of their caste that they had been chained with and join the new world taking shape around them. Over the last ten years Sankaran had witnessed some of those promises being fulfilled, and how God, contrary to what he had been made to believe, didn’t seem to mind this apostasy. He had wondered why. Was it that his God was waiting for an opportunity to teach the defectors a lesson? Would he have to face His wrath if he too followed others and accepted the alien faith? He had now his doubts. He was beginning to feel that the God of the missionaries was indeed the real God and that the God he had believed in was nothing but a punitive manifestation of the Upper castes’ desire to subjugate them.

The previous day the pastor from the local chapel had come to visit him. He counseled Sankaran to accept the word of Christ and open the world of opportunities that he had deprived himself of all these years. He left a book and a cross at his house and asked him to come to the chapel and receive the blessings of God.

For the last time, Sankaran looked at his parents’ photograph, his eyes tearful with guilt and shame. He still could not look at the face of Lord Murugan, resplendent and beautiful. He turned around, picked up the book and the cross, paused at the door for a moment pleading for the final time forgiveness from his parents, and then with a determined step, walked out of the door.

Homosexuality and deviant sexual behaviour

Delhi High Court's historic judgment and countless expert-talks and articles on the same notwithstanding, I am, at a personal level, a little skeptical about the homosexual behaviour. I have nothing personal against homosexuals and their sexual preferences. They are, in my opinion, and as I have not witnessed anything to the contrary, as harmless(?) as the heterosexuals.

Where my doubts lay are in the "normality" of the whole phenomenon.

To begin with, if the whole phenomenon of "homosexuality" is genetically determined, then one really can't blame the poor chaps for being the way they are. Their destiny was written by God Herself and there is nothing we can do to go against Her wishes.

On the other hand, if it isn't, then the matter obviously needs a different treatment. It no longer becomes a congenital condition but a trait that's acquired over time. This "deviation" then may need to be understood and be treated medically or in any other way deemed fit.

However, that homosexuality may be legalised is the least of my concerns. The question that prompted me to start writing was what happens if "pedophiles", "bestial", and other such "deviant" people start claiming that they are naturally oriented in such ways and that their sexual preferences too may be given legal sanction.

It's a very disturbing question. Perhaps an outrageous one, and an irrelevant one. But a question nevertheless. After all even homosexuality was considered an unmentionable criminal act till not too long ago. Is it not a plausible assumption that modern science is incapable of proving that the rest of the sexual aberrations are a manifestation of one's genetic make-up? What happens if it does?

Do we legalise and accept them? Do we discard the Nature and God and outlaw these "criminals" from the society?

Any thoughts?

Lessons of life

There is always something valuable to learn from everyone.

From the good people one learns what to do, and how to be.

From the others, one learns what not to do, and how not to be.

Well.. I told you so!

This is from one of the articles in HBR:

"One of the course's textbooks, Made to Stick by Chip and Dan Heath, taught them six attributes that help ideas stick in people's minds: simplicity, unexpectedness, concreteness, credibility, emotions, and stories."

Well.. at least I got one right! :-)

Key to a great idea

I have been thinking about this for some time -

A great idea does not require great level of intellect to be understood.

In fact an idea becomes great only if it is comprehensible by the weakest of human intellect. Only then it find support from every quarter.

Therefore, simplicity is the key to greatness.

Cases in point:

1. Ahimsa by Mahatma Gandhi
2. Communism by Karl Marx
4. All major world religions

It's all black

Not many people may know this but the one astonishing fact that catches a newcomer in Mumbai by surprise is the exorbitant real estate prices. Well, there are other things such as the terrifying sight of a train-shaped sea of humanity that runs up and down the center of the city, the almost incredible tendency of people to stand in a queue even if there were only two people forming it, the presence of representatives of a mind-boggling number of provinces and states of India, and several others which form the entire incredulous experience of an outsider in Mumbai.

But no other issue is more pertinent and more important than the question of finding a roof over one’s head in this vast city. The answer to this one question is so damn difficult that it really stretches not just the purse strings of an individual but also his capacity to live.

I was of course wondering why prices in Mumbai are so ridiculously high and my ever wise younger brother provided a reasonably good explanation for it. There is a concept called parallel GDP – an economic system thriving on the money that is unaccounted in the Government’s books. This is called the Black Money. Indians have over the years become experts in evading taxes, accumulating black money, and somehow managing to hold on it and pass it to their future generations.

Mumbai real estate prices, I am told and I now strongly believe, is the product of the real estate mafia manipulations and black money. With the mafia indiscriminately raising real estate prices, it becomes impossible for honest salaried people to afford a house. However, for people with stashes of black money, it is a good investment since real estate prices only seem to be shooting up. As more black money is thrown into the real estate sector, the higher the prices go up making the latter more unaffordable for the honest salaried kind.

It is not uncommon to find people owning two or more houses in Mumbai. It is not surprising that most such owners are those who are more likely to possess black money. It is unimaginable that a government employee is able to afford a 80-lakhs-house in Mumbai. There are those who own two. I have parents who have worked in the PSU and I know how damn-near-impossible that is.

As long as this black money phenomenon exists, it would only be a dream for an honest salaried person to own a house in Mumbai.

HRC and a new world

Day before yesterday I had the good fortune of visiting Hard Rock Cafe at Lower Parel, Mumbai (Some people say it’s in Prabhadevi, but that’s a completely different story). What I witnessed was simply amazing. Loud Rock Music, some very beautiful people (you could repeat “very beautiful” a few more times) hustling and bustling about the entire place, all kinds of liquids being passed around, and large TV screens playing the IPL match. The last bit is of the greatest interest to me – nothing is better than sitting with a drink (Fresh Lime Soda – sweet & salt) in hand surrounded by gorgeous women and watching an electrifying cricket match.

What I observed is how alien I felt in the place. Sure, the place was full of Indians yet there was not much that I could identify with the crowd. One, the people seemed to be really affluent, really good-looking, seemed to be anglicized, not just in speech but in appearance and demeanour too, shared a common interest in liquor and rock music (why else would one go to HRC in the first place).

If a European or an American found himself in there that night, he would’ve felt at home instantly. I could as well have replaced the whole bunch with the characters of Archie Comics and it wouldn’t have changed a thing! The only saving grace was the plate of “potato skins” deep fried in oil, something I hope was indianized to cater to our palate.

Would I go there? Yes, of course. Didn’t you read the “very beautiful people” part?

A new beginning once again

A new place, a new job, a new house, a new city - I almost don't want to do all that again. It happened 5 years ago in Bengalooru when I moved to the city for the first time with just a couple of suitcases.

I spent close to three years in the city slowing building up my "household" with a few worldly possessions until I had to move to the glorious city of Ahmedabad. I gave away some of my stuff, my telephone connection, my gas connection etc. and placed myself snugly in the comforts of a student life.

Now I am back to the square one with a couple of suitcases in tow. The process has to begin all over again. What is perhaps different this time is that I already have an AC, cable and gas connection with the house deal. But I still have to mop and clean my house, wash my clothes, make my own tea etc. At least until I find a maid-servant or she finds me.

There is no water at home and I drink all the water I need in the office before I go home. This coming weekend I will have to fix all those plugs that exist in my new setup. It is, I tell you, Boooooooorrrrrrring! I hate it, but I understand that in order to lead my life in some comfort, I will have to do it again.

I really pity all the government servants who get transferred ever so often. It must truly deeply painful to dismantle and reorganize one's entire household every 2-3 years. The strangest bit is that I never realized it when I was a child and we were moving around the country (both my parents worked in PSU)!

Ah well, such is life!

endnote: While in Bengalooru, I had desisted from purchasing kitchen stuff until my grandmother decided to visit me. This development compelled me to spend Rs. 7000 and equip my kitchen with every conceivable instrument that might be required by my grandmother during her cooking. The entire set is now going to be sent to me by my Mother. It means "washing utensils" will get added to my list of household chores. :-(

The Sound of Music

Do you remember the song “Bhool Ja” sung by Shaan? In the music video, if you’d noticed, Shaan was sitting in a recording studio singing this song. Today for the first time in my life I got the opportunity to sit inside one such recording studio and the experience I must tell you is simply unbelievable.

Coming from a family that has a long history with music, vocals to be more precise – my parents sing, my grandparents and, I am told, their parents all sang too – it was not a surprise that sooner or later I would find one of my family to be inside one such studio. It has now begun with my father and, boy, was I blown away!

My father by the way is recording a few songs that are expected to come out in the market in the month of August. I am his biggest fan and over the years I have realized more and more what a fantastic singer he is. I have seen him mesmerize audiences, big or small, wherever and whenever he has sung. I have seen people coming up to him with tears in their eyes after having been deeply moved by his rendition of a bhajan or a tragic song. I have seen people literally bless him with innumerable good wishes because he brought some sort of inexplicable joy in their hearts with his renditions.

Today when I heard him sing sitting in the recording studio, I discovered how truly blessed he is (touch-wood!) with a voice so amazing that would be an object of envy to many. The quality of voice, the melody of the music, and the emotions in his singing, all flowing in a divine confluence of music that was just simply breath-taking!

I cannot contain my excitement as I wait for the finished product to come out in the market. I pray to God to bless him with all the success he deserves. All the best, Appa!

The bug list

“Can you see?” asks one of the oracles of held captive by the U.S. Department of Justice in the popular movie Minority Report. A strange question considering that the oracle herself was endowed with good eyesight and could “see”. Yet it wasn’t the actual seeing that she was referring to. She was wondering if she was actually seeing reality – the world as it was.

Most of us are capable of “seeing” things. We have come to regard our sight with so much casualness that we don’t simply attach the importance that needs to be attached to it. That oracle could for the first time see things that were not visions was so frightfully exciting for it. That must tell us how important the power of sight is.

We as humans have been blessed with strong cognitive capacity - the ability to apply thought to concepts, build on them, take actions on them, “evolve”, as it were, not just physically but also intellectually and spiritually. We have the power to apply strong cognitive models to our sensory faculties and develop a more comprehensive and enriching picture of the world around us.
For example, when we see things, we apply our mental energies to understand the image in front of us, what it stands for, what it implies, and how does that affect us. If that doesn’t happen to us then God save us!

However, we must go beyond just the perfunctory duty of seeing things. There is more to seeing than just images forming on the surface of the retina. That is why there exist words such as watch and observe. The word “observe” beautifully describes a higher form of cognitive process that accompanies the process of seeing. It is not just viewing things and trying to understand them. It is going one level beyond that. It is about bringing more value to our lives. An observer builds on his viewing experience and then applies his intellectual power to explore ways in which he can use the visual experience to add more value to a human life.

I recently read about a company called IDEO (http://www.ideo.com) and was blown away by the incredibly innovative work that they do. A book “The art of innovation” has been written on the company and their philosophy. In the book is mentioned an interesting phenomenon called “The Bug List”. It is list of things that designers “see” around them in the world and are unhappy about. The inherent unhappiness drives them to seek better designs in the systems around them thereby continuously adding value to the society.

A typical observer, they say, would view a queue at a railway station ticket window and try to figure out how he/she can improve the process. An observer would view the flowing traffic outside the window of his house and wonder how to improve the traffic system, or how to reduce the burden on roads, or how to move to a more efficient public transport system etc.

I think every human can “see” the world in this new way. Every human can and must do justice their human-ness and strive to add more value to the society and the world. Only then we may deserve any bit of the pride that we associate with us being Humans.

The importance of being a practitioner

The world loves a practitioner. A highly generalized and perhaps grossly misplaced statement, some may say. What does the word “practitioner” convey? An instinctive answer to the question might be that a practitioner is the one who practices. Yes and No. A practitioner does practice but that’s all not what he does. A practitioner’s practice is characterized by the depth of his practice as much as the width of it. Confusing, is it?

Let us consider a few examples – Sachin Tendulkar, Ustad Zakir Hussain, Dr. Abdul Kalam, Naseeruddin Shah, Mahatma Gandhi, Lata Mangeshkar etc. What is common between all of these? Yes, they are all famous. But is there anything else? Let me provoke you a little more by adding to this the following persons – your favourite teacher at school, your most loved servant/subordinate, your favourite cook, and your biggest crush. Do you see anything common between them and the names that were listed earlier? Almost invariably one would find that all of them have been practitioners of one thing or the other.

Let us consider Sachin Tendulkar’s example. He spends hours at the nets practicing on his batting skills, but he does not stop himself there. He invests equal if not more amount of time and effort into studying the nuances of the game, studying various conditions that might affect a cricket game, study opponents’ game to learn their strategies, understand their psychology, and is continuously endeavouring to better himself and add more value to the team each and every time.

Ustad Zakir Hussain not only practices playing the Tabla but also spends considerable time understanding the fundamentals of percussions, the effect of various beats and tempos, the various effect that can be generated by combining Tabla with other instruments in a jugalbandi, understanding western concepts of music to enrich his knowledge of percussion and music.

My favourite cook, my grandmother, is perfect not because she has practiced the art of cooking over the years. It is because each and every time I find her trying to improvise, learn new recipes, modifying and experimenting with her own recipes to appeal to varying tastes and preferences of my cousins and me. She goes as far as to mix elements of different cuisines in order to enrich our eating experience every single time.

All three of them are practitioners. Their existence is not limited to practice and perfection of a simple task, but to practice and perfect the value that they intend to provide through that task. We love Sachin not because he has perfected the art of batting, but because he nearly every time plays to win the match for his team. We love Zakir Hussain not because he has perfected the art of playing Tabla, but because he nearly every time enthralls us with his performance. I love my grandmother not because she has perfected the art of making rasam or sambar, but because she has never failed to arouse the joy of having consumed delicious food.
We seek and adore practitioners in life. We respect them for their discipline, and we don’t feel shy of showering them with our affection and blessings. That’s why the most popular guys in schools or colleges are those that are “famous” for some quality of theirs. It could be from as sophisticated as a math wizard to something as inane as a champion of antakshari.

Yet not many of us consciously try to become practitioners in life. Practitioners are a rare phenomenon in our society. Somehow a majority of us have relegated ourselves to a life of mediocrity and have built a cocoon around us in the false assumption that life in the arms of mediocrity is simple and uneventful. Nothing can be farther from the truth.

A practitioner may not achieve stupendous success in an activity but a mediocre person is doomed to failure under all circumstances. A student who is a practitioner may not end up topping his classroom, but is likely to contribute more value to the society in terms of his job, his family, his knowledge, his skills etc. than someone who is not because practitioners are a rare and cherished commodity. Sooner or later the practitioner would find success and when success comes to him it will come in all its glory. What is more amazing that the practitioner thereafter won’t really have to work hard to sustain it. He just has to be himself. The mediocre on the other hand would almost always struggle to achieve any semblance of success which I am afraid would never come to him or, even if it does, would not stay with him for long.

A practitioner when asked to perform a task that does not match his passions will perform at 80-90% efficiency whereas a mediocre person would always function at 50-60% efficiency, his own passions notwithstanding. A practitioner however when asked to perform a task that matches his passion ends up working at 250% efficiency. In fact, the word “passion” implies a practitioner at the core of it. The key is “devotion”. Devotion to a value, a cause, as it were, compels a person to explore in more depth and breadth and helps him reach an elevated state of knowledge that others can only dream about. Thus it is not uncommon to find practitioners become “stars” of an organization, “icons” of a society, or “idols” for the masses.

There is indeed value in being a practitioner.

An example of the "scare"

Following up on this post of mine...

A sticker outside some auto-rickshaws in Mumbai

"Spitting causes TB. Stop spitting"

Ah! How I wish this campaign catches on and we are rid of the menace of spitting that is literally painting the country red.

Mistaken Identity

“Suniye Bhaiya! Ye kitne ka hai?”

How many of us have used this line in our daily lives! Whether in the gift shop, the Big Bazaar, the subzi mandi, the saree shop, the sweet shop or any such place, we have often witnessed ourselves putting forth this inane query to a helpless, pitiful, weakling of the human species.

The language, or the tone, or perhaps even the demeanour may change from one place to another but the inherent question remains the same.

I too am no different. I have abused this single sentence so many times that it by far must have become the most commonly spoken sentence across all languages in India.

What I hadn’t observed so far is the mental attitude that accompanied the seemingly innocuous question. Often, and I am discounting the lavish, affluent, up-market shops or showrooms, the attendant workforce in these shops is relatively looked down upon by me. Primarily because in my opinion they are not well-educated, many of them are basically foolish since they don’t understand simple things are almost always clueless, they are low on capabilities – zero sales skills and pretty much non-existent communication skills. The more mass-market the commercial establishment, the lower my opinion of the shop attendants.

Yeah yeah, you may raise your finger at me and call me a pompous swellhead with a giant ego, but at least I am honest enough to admit what I feel. It may be misplaced but to come to a point where I am at least aware of the subconscious thought process that guides my actions is in itself an achievement for me. So there!

Now, it is quite a shock to me when I am at the receiving end of the question in question. Yes, ME. Not once, not twice, but innumerable times while I would be loitering about an aisle in a supermarket or casually browsing through the contents in a shop when I would be posed this query by a stranger.

It hurts me. Really. Because it immediately tells me that I somehow surprisingly exhibit all those qualities that I have subconsciously ascribed to the lowly creatures of the shop-attendant kind. It hurts me to know that despite wearing a T-shirt that carries the unmistakable logo of the very famous “Well known Institute of Management in Western India” that I have had the privilege of studying in the stranger does not hesitate even for a second before proceeding to assume that I am one of “THEM”.

Well, it happened to me yet again yesterday and this time in a Big Bazaar, arguably the most mass-market commercial establishment. The perpetrators this time were not one, two, but three people in succession who came up to me and asked me the price of a stupid mosquito-annihilation device that resembled a tennis racquet. All this happened while I was in an insouciant manner practicing my forehand with one of the pieces on display.

My immediate reaction was to break their heads with the device, then throw them on the ground and jump on their chests until their hearts popped out which I would then tear apart with my bare hands. But I am by nature a non-violent person and my inherent passive disposition eventually prevailed over my instincts.

But I did learn an important lesson yesterday. No, it is not that my respect for the shop attendants has increased remarkably. I don’t suppose that is likely to happen very soon. What I learnt was far more important and perhaps more essential for a better life. A life where embarrassments would be less and occasions for placing our feet in the most unlikely place of our mouths would be rare.

The lesson: Always make sure that the person who you are going to ask the question in question is indeed a shop attendant. Look for a tag, a uniform, or any other identification. Else, at least wait for someone else to speak to the person before you do.

What if you don’t? Well, remember not everyone is of a passive disposition as I am. :-)

Just scare the hell out of them!

Indians are often criticized by many for their poor civic sense particularly hygiene and cleanliness. By who? Well, at the least the elite and the educated in India do. Well, at least those in the network of my acquaintance do. Oh well, at least I do. It is frequently mentioned, often to the point of inducing hatred towards India and the Indians, that we, the Indians, do not know, appreciate, or even understand the value of maintaining cleanliness, especially outside the walls of our residences.

I will not dispute any of these allegations and it would be imprudent if I were to try to even remotely justify the callous indifference with which we, the Indians, treat public areas. I will also not try to cleverly manipulate you into believing that the blame for this mess lies with the Government, the authorities, the ‘system’ (whatever that means!), and what have you. I will also not try to commence a lecture on the benefits of cleanliness because I believe that anyone who is capable of reading this blog has learnt all that was to be learnt about the benefits of cleanliness in the process of their schooling.

So what is this whole rant all about? First of all, I would advise you not to label all this output of words as a ‘rant’ and discard it outright. I don’t believe that repeating a problem statement sufficient number of times reveals the solution automatically. We need to think, apply our minds, or innovate to produce a solution to a problem. With this inspiring thought I now proceed to propose a method by which we, the Indians, can be ‘encouraged’ to be more responsible and considerate towards the notion of civic sense.

No, this article is not a discourse on another great revolutionary idea about education, morality, and global warming. Instead, this article is about ‘Fear’. Yes, the same fear that gripped our hearts, occupied our mindspace during the Y2K chaos. The same fear that now scares the hell out of us when we have to drink a glass of water at a roadside ‘thela’ selling delicious samosas. The same fear that advises people, especially women, to not travel alone late in the night in the city of Delhi.

Fear I believe has been, is, and would always be the biggest motivator for the mankind. Fear makes us do things that we would never do, or as a corollary, would make us not do things that we have always been doing. Fear is the key to a man’s mindspace. Get fear into a man’s mind and he will readily do whatever you ask him to do. A very common policy, I say, that is often employed by the politicians of this country to ‘motivate’ people to give the former their invaluable votes.

So how do we use ‘Fear’ to elevate the abysmal standards of civic sense? Consider the following scenarios.

a. A plastic bag supposedly containing garbage thrown on the roadside of a busy shopping area

b. An open garbage dump that has been in existence for years in the corner of a residential colony

c. A crumpled piece of paper lying on the corridor of a mall or a commercial complex

“What about them”, one may ask as one is often used to such a sight across the length and breadth of India. But imagine the above scenarios with the following modifications:

a. A plastic bag supposedly containing explosive material thrown on the roadside of a busy shopping area

b. An open garbage dump in a residential colony contains a bag full of explosive materials

c. A crumpled piece of paper lying on the corridor of a mall or a commercial complex contains anthrax or other such potentially dangerous bio-weapon

If the above modifications do not succeed in running a chill down your spine, then you are either well protected, or you are one of those who were looking for a new idea to strike terror and now have found one thanks to this blog.

It is not very difficult to see how our indifference to unattended garbage lying about can be taken advantage of very conveniently by the Terrorists.

However, imagine these scenarios in an imaginary India where an instance of unattended garbage lying about is rare, where the people and police are vigilant about those who recklessly throw about garbage in public areas. It would be extremely difficult for one to inconspicuously plant a bomb or such and get away.

The key, I reiterate, is Fear. The fear of being blown away by bombs I hope is potent enough to drive people to dispose off their garbage in a more organized and ‘safe’ manner. It is only a matter of using the Fear Factor the right way. Radical thought? Well, I said so.  :-)

Useful business tips from Gujjus

While in Ahmedabad the following are some of the business tips (or policies, if you will) that I found worthy of imbibing from the Gujjus. I am not sure if they themselves follow these principles or are even aware of it. :-)

1. Never ever let a single paisa go waste in business.
2. Trust is the single biggest reason why one would continue to do business with you. So build the trust and live up to it at every cost.
3. Customer is THE king. Treat him like one (I would have said 'her' but then it would have had to be 'Queen').
4. Be humble, patient, polite and calm. ALWAYS. Without fail.
5. When it comes to business, no amount of hard work is beneath one's dignity. Be ready to walk, dirty your shoes and hands if need be if that adds to your business.
6. Keep business and emotions separate. In your personal capacity, you may spend thousands to help your friend, but in business you make sure that he pays for your product/service.

This is not exhaustive but this is what I can think of from the top of my head.

Surprisingly, these things are NEVER spoken about in management education, or at least the one I underwent. Maybe, that's why Gujjus make excellent "entrepreneurs" while we make good "managers".