Law Studies - My weekend pursuit

Mumbai, Monday 17 June, 4.30 am.

The phone alarm rings, but I have been half-awake since 4 am anyway. This has been my fifth consecutive night of 4 hours sleep, and is one of many early morning wake-ups in the past 3 years, most  specifically in the month of June every year. 

My laptop and notebooks are open on the desk, as I left them a few hours ago. I start reading. There are 3 hours in which to revise key topics, before I face the last examination of my Masters in Business Laws. The second year annual exam format is the same as the first year - 5 subjects, 5 consecutive days, a 3 hour written examination for each subject. Today is the fifth and final day. 

At the age of 50, I have chosen to travel back in a time tunnel, to my school and college days. I've spent the past few days in an unfamiliar "examination hall", a classroom at Mumbai's National law University.

Sitting with (mostly) younger cohort-mates, each day of the examination has been a physical and mental challenge - 3 hours of thinking and writing, racking my brains while torturing my wrist and fingers. After each exam, a brief respite of an hour and then I get on to study for the next day's paper. 

If only I had done a better job of studying over the past few months! God knows, I have tried. The past few weeks and months have been an exercise of managing my day job, while also  pressurising the brain to absorb and retain legal concepts, case laws, section numbers and more such complexities. My hand aches, as does my head. 

But today is the last exam, the subject that I have been dreading the most. Taxation law is full of twists and unexpected banana-skins. The professor's devious questions in the formative assessments foxed almost everyone in the cohort. Half the weightage for the course grades comes from the formatives, and as a result most of us are faced with a grim struggle for 3 hours to cross the magic figure of 40 marks in taxation. To graduate and get the Masters degree, we need to score 40 out of 100 in each of the subjects, and keep our average of all subjects above 50. A bad score in taxation will ensure an overall failure. 

It's 7.30 am now. Time's up. I wash up and try to eat a bit of breakfast. And for the first time, I sense acidity in the stomach! Consecutive late nights and early mornings are getting to me now. Ignoring the nausea, I get ready to commute to the examination center. 

The clipboard I am using in the exam has been borrowed from my younger son. In fact he has outgrown it, he is a teenager now and too old for a clipboard with a picture of the cartoon character "Chhota Bheem" - a youngster with superhuman strength. Chhota Bheem can help me today, I certainly need mental and physical fortitude. It isn't going to be easy, but I have been repeating 4 words to myself for weeks now, I will not surrender - "not without a fight"! 

I have opted for Mumbai as my examination center. The "National Law University Mumbai" is a rather grandiose name for an institution that currently occupies two floors of an office building in Powai. Hopefully their new campus will give students more of an educational ambience. Having said that, the current setting is not bad - there are plenty of trees around, and there is a quiet area outside the building where all the exam-goers are sitting or standing, reading their notes and getting set for the final push.

This is the second year of the masters course, and the tenth examination in total. By now, many know each other by face if not by name. I greet a few mates and our brief chat reconfirms to everyone that yes, of all the subjects, this is the one paper that they have been dreading the most. Then it is time for me to enter the building, carry out my pre-exam ritual of using the washroom, walk into the classroom, occupy the seat that bears my student roll number,  and get ready to meet my fate. 

It seems that nothing has changed in Indian examinations over the years. Exactly like it was decades ago in my school and college examinations, the strict-looking invigilator distributes the answer sheets ahead of time. The bell rings sharp at 10 am, and the question papers are handed out. 

The National Law School of India Unversity (NLSIU) has a standard format across subjects. There are two categories of questions - theoretical, memory-based questions and practical, case-based questions. There are 8 questions each in the two categories, and one needs to attempt 4 questions in each category - 8 in total. 

I have, by now, developed a routine that works reasonably well. I spend the first 10 minutes reading through the entire question paper. Every examination before this has been exactly the same - giving me an initial feeling of shock to see all the questions being so unfamiliar and intimidating. It is like walking into a party and realising you don't know anyone else in the room. Then, as you look carefully, you see a slightly familiar face somewhere in the room, you see a couple more faces who look potentially friendly - and you choose 8 such  attendees and converse with each for about 15-20 minutes! 

While I always feel initially that I won't be able to string more than a few words together per answer, the brain invariably kicks into action. All those months of weekend lectures, the past few weeks of studies and the past few days of intense focus start to pay dividends. I remember one concept, one case, one more concept, the pages of the answer sheet start filling up... and all too soon, it is approaching 1 pm and the invigilator is saying "Last 5 minutes, tie up your supplements". Yes, there are a few people who have written so much, that they needed to take additional answer sheets!

I leave my answer sheet on the table and exit the classroom with a couple of minutes still remaining. In the washroom, splashing cold water on my face, I feel energetic. The adrenaline level in my body is still quite high! Downstairs, outside the building, the cohort gathers and we take a few group pictures and congratulate each other on surviving the examination. Taxation law, while not exactly a cakewalk, has not been the terrifying inquisition that I was dreading.  I may just, after all, pass the exam and collect the masters degree! 

Why law, and why a masters at this age and stage of life? I am a middle-aged person working in a completely different field. But law was an area of interest for a long time. So, when I came to know that NLSIU, the top-ranked law college in India, offers distance learning courses that are conducted online on weekends, it was a no-brainer to sign up. I signed up for a one year diploma in Cyber Law and enjoyed the course so much, that I immediately signed up for NLSIU's flagship distance learning program, a two year Masters in Business Laws that covers areas as diverse as employment law, contract law,investment law, IP law and environment law. 

I am glad to say that I am hardly a unique specimen in the NLSIU student cohort,  though - a significant portion of the cohort is comprised of non-lawyers, and a good amount are around the same age, or older than me. We have journalists, army officers, engineers, insurance specialists, bankers and many more.

NLSIU has been running the Master of Business Laws course since the 1990s. They believe in a high-intensity high-pressure approach - we have had ten solid hours of classes every alternate weekend, and two online formative examinations before the grand finale that I have just faced. The professors are all well-qualified and passionate about their respective field of expertise, but each of them seem to have their own unique spin on how to teach. Some professors sense the wavelength of the class and adjust their own approach to match it, while others expect the class to rise to their level. 

The NLS online learning management system is basic and functional. It has the class readings and recordings uploaded. There are no snazzy features like online discussions, gamification, AI - BUT,  to make up for this, the WhatsApp group (informally set up by the cohort) has been phenomenally successful, with over 600 members joining in. Some natural leaders in the cohort have organised revision study sessions. People feel comfortable asking even basic doubts on the WhatsApp group, since we get answers from someone in the group within minutes. 

The WhatsApp group is amazingly supportive, and something about the course seems to bring out the best in the cohort. In the last few weeks and days before the examination, some share their notes. Some share exam tips, others share case studies, still others share mnemonics, and everyone gratefully absorbs the wealth of knowledge on offer.  In the midst of the preparation, one dynamic cohort-mate even takes time out to have a batch T-shirt organized! 

There is zero competition within the cohort. Rather, this exam has become a collective task where everyone wants everyone else to do well. All potentially valuable information is shared immediately. Any last-minute query from anyone struggling with a concept (and there are plenty such people and concepts!) is immediately answered by someone else in the group. We have questions and immediate answers at 2 am, 6 am, 4 pm - its a round-the-clock effort barring the 3 hours in the exam hall! With the wide range of backgrounds and pooling of knowledge, the entire cohort has bonded amazingly well. We are all in this together! Any competition is between us as a group, and our professors! 

With the exams done with, there is a massive sense of relief. I head back to Pune and on the train, I see that the content of the cohort WhatsApp messages have changed, from notes and question papers to pictures of group lunches, pets and jokes!  This community spirit that has been forged through the intense heat of the MBL course, will hopefully continue to thrive.

Three years of weekend law studies haven't made me an expert on law. As one of the cohort pointed out, "Law studies doesnt give you all the knowledge, but you now know where to look."  Overall, the last 3 years have given me some new learnings and reinforced some things I knew before 

On building Knowledge

-  Knowledge is better absorbed via deep and intense efforts, than via shallow reading. 

- There is nothing better than a deadline to make you focus! And the threat of public humiliation does wonders as well. 

- Making notes is ten times more effective than just reading. But equally, repeated reading does help.

- Discussing something with a mate is more impactful than solo studying.  

- And, law is a very fascinating subject. Maybe I should do a full-time law degree sometime! 

On people 

- Most people in the world are basically good, capable and are willing or even eager to help others! And when a critical mass of such people comes together, you get a phenomenon like our amazing cohort. 

- Age is irrelevant. Truly. All you need is enthusiasm. 

And on me

- I can do a lot, if I put my mind to it :-) 

 

3 Corruption Stories and 1 No-Corruption Story

Corruption Story 1 - Delhi, c. 1380 

The Sultan of Delhi,  Firuz Shah Tughlaq received a complaint from a cavalry soldier. 

In those days cavalrymen had to procure and maintain their own horses, and the inspector of horses would check each horse every year before accepting it as fit for duty.  The inspector was asking the soldier for a bribe of a gold coin to pass his horse. 

The Sultan considered the complaint about the inspector. And the most powerful king in India, instead of punishing the corrupt inspector, handed the soldier two coins - one for that year's bribe and the second in case the soldier faced the same issue the next year! 

Corruption Story 2 - London, 2011

The UK Anti-Bribery Act was implemented in July 2011, a consolidation and modernization of multiple existing laws. By October 2011, the new law had seen its first conviction- the offender being an employee of a county court, a young man of "desi" or South Asian origin, who was taking bribes from motorists to delete their speeding offences from the court records. 

This enterprising youth made it a point to tell his customers that he provided his service only to 'Asian brothers". 

The saving grace was that it was one of these same Asian brothers who reported the crime.  

Corruption Story 3 - Pune, December 2023

A friend and I met for breakfast on a Saturday morning, and we came out of the restaurant to find that my friend's vehicle had  been clamped by the traffic police for a parking violation. There was another car parked nearby that had met the same fate. 

The traffic police crane showed up soon and the official took out a snazzy tablet device, tracing the vehicle details and informing us that the same offence had been repeated within a span of 12 months, thus doubling the quantum of the fine. But there was another way! We were told in a low voice, that if we 'paid directly' then the fine would be reduced! 

My friend ignored the suggestion. The same snazzy device was used by the official to accept our card payment and to print a receipt. The vehicle was then unclamped and we were free to go. 

The other motorist, in the meantime, had paid off the official and driven off in a minute, without getting his traffic offence on the books!   

No-Corruption Story - Pune, January 2024 

I needed to renew my driving license. In theory, the process was simple - fill out a form, submit a medical certificate, pay the renewal fee and submit the original license to the authorities. However the RTO (Road Traffic Organization) office has been associated in my mind with chaos, crowds and corruption, where nothing can be done without a helpful 'agent'. 

I completed the online process from home (pleasantly surprised that the process had been digitized!) and then set out for the dreaded next step- visiting the RTO in person to submit the original documents and the expiring license. The RTO was just as dusty, crowded and confusing as I'd experienced in years past. I asked one of the many agents and was guided to the renewals desk. 

And here was the surprise - no chaos, no confusion, just a small and fast-moving queue at the counter! My documents were scrutinised carefully and accepted, the documents not needed were handed back to me,  and relevant entries were made in the RTO computer system. I was told by the cheerful and efficient official that the renewed license would reach me by post. Step 2 of the renewal process had worked, and worked lightning-fast. I was free to go within a minute! 

From rampant petty corruption to No-Corruption

India (and in a wider sense, all of South Asia) has long been associated with petty corruption. As in the first story, even a king with vast powers didnt dare to confront corruption. The second story showed South Asians in a poor light in foreign countries, a youngster tempted to misuse his powers to make a quick buck. And the parking violation story shows that while technology in the form of many "Digital India" initiatives has brought in massive efficiencies, crooked officials can find a way around the system - and there are enough people around who don't mind feeding corruption, to save themselves some time and money.

But the RTO experience to me was a revelation. What a dramatic change from an opaque, difficult-to-understand organization, to a transparent, fast and dare I say, customer-focused one! I hope that through these technology-driven changes, petty corruption continues to to rapidly recede from the mainstream to the fringes. 

Will we eventually see a zero-corruption nation? Now that is something no technology can ensure - it is up to each one of us.  

Railways and Change in India

"Wow, Indian railways have improved beyond all recognition!", I thought as the Deccan Express pulled out of Pune junction. I was travelling by train after more than twenty years.  

Why such a long gap? Air travel had become a regular habit for domestic travel anywhere in India. And for my more regular travels between Pune and Mumbai, there is the 6-lane expressway which, ever since its completion in the late 1990s, has cut a 5-hour laborious and dangerous road journey to a 3-hour fast-paced commute. 

But now the expressway is getting overcrowded, while on the other hand the railways have been earning good press. So after reading about yet another traffic jam on the Pune-Mumbai expressway, I had decided to try the train. 

And what a fabulous experience it had been so far! A smooth and fast booking process via an app on my phone. A text message from the railways the day before the journey, letting me know my seat and coach number. A much, much cleaner station and platform from what I had experienced 20 years ago. Escalators to help you get across to your platform. A beautiful new "vistadome" coach with large windows and comfortable seats. Clean washrooms that were no longer "open-to-ground", and with working flushes! And most of all, the train that had left the platform at the exact scheduled time of departure. 

My fellow passengers in the vistadome coach seemed to be of two types. One, the tourist or leisure traveller variety - relaxed, chatting and joking, and keen to try whatever snacks the railway vendors were selling (and there was a vast variety of offerings! ) And two, the business traveller variety - there were many of them, busy on their emails or work calls (And the work conversations were as jarringly loud as the phone calls the tourists were making - confidentiality is not something that many Indians care much about!)

The train carriage and its passengers, in fact, were a representation of the new India that is making waves across the world - prosperous, confident, world-class in many respects, while also being brash and noisy. Everyone was caught up in their own tasks as the train passed through the first few stations in the Pune suburbs. 

Suddenly, there was a jerk and the train came to a dead halt. We had just passed through Dapodi station and half the train was still adjoining the platform while the other half had gone beyond it. 

The passengers in the vistadome coach were unconcerned, wrapped up in their various phone calls, food and conversations. After fifteen minutes of the train being stationary, I went to the doorway to see what was happening. A crowd was gathered on the platform looking underneath the train. Some of the train catering staff had alighted from the train and were also standing there, watching. There seemed to be something caught under the train. 

One of the passengers from the vistadome.coach came back from the crowd. 

"A couple has thrown themselves under the train as it was passing the station " he announced loudly and matter-of-factly. "The woman is dead, the man is alive and they are trying to get them out". 

The passengers in the coach murmured a little. Oh no! Not nice. How inconvenient! How much of a delay could this potentially cause? I wondered whether it would have been wiser to just go by road, instead of making this train experiment. 

But evidently the railways knew how to deal quickly with this situation. A main line with a hundred trains a day, cannot be kept stopped for too long. Within ten minutes, the train started moving again. The food vendors resumed their walk through the carriages, while the passengers continued with their chats, took pictures and selfies, and carried on with their work calls. All was well.

Or was it? Outside the bubble of well-being in the air-conditioned, sparkling-clean vistadome coach, someone had reached such depths of despair in their lives that they felt ending it all was their only option. Who can say, what this unfortunate couple had been going through! 

And what of the reaction of the passengers - myself included amongst them. I had experienced irritation, mild curiosity and shock, dread at the prospect of a long delay, and then relief once the train got moving. In my mind there had been very little room for empathy, sadness or any desire to help. 

The train made up most of the time lost, and reached Mumbai only ten minutes late. I spoke to a friend on the phone. "The train is fantastic, our railways have improved so much! But we had a small delay en route, because someone decided to use the rail track as a suicide point! Some things don't change, Ha Ha Ha!"

Indeed, some things don't change...

Mumbai v. Maharashtra and twists in the Ranji Trophy tale

 Supremacy in Indian domestic cricket is determined by who wins the Ranji Trophy. Thanks to regular changes made to the format, the tournament has stayed relevant and interesting since its inception in 1935. We see twists and turns in every tournament of every sport, and the Ranji Trophy has its share of them. But what happened last week will take some beating! 

To summarise, there was a group stage match between two heavyweight teams Mumbai and Maharashtra, with the winner almost sure to go ahead to the quarterfinals. But their match ended in a nail-biting dead heat. And as a result, both adversaries were overtaken in the points table, and knocked out of the tournament, by a third team- Andhra Pradesh (which had earlier been comprehensively beaten by both of these aforesaid heavyweights!) 

Firstly, some historical context - Mumbai is the capital of Maharashtra state, but we have two different teams named Mumbai and Maharashtra that play domestic cricket. Mumbai comprises players from the greater Mumbai area, while Maharashtra comprises players from Pune and all of western Maharashtra. (Players from eastern Maharashtra represent Vidarbha, which is a great team as well). Mumbai are the erstwhile superpower of Indian cricket. For decades, everyone else played second fiddle to Mumbai in national tournaments while in the West Zone, the Maharashtra team usually came off second-best against their neighbours Mumbai. 

But the past two decades have seen big changes in Indian domestic cricket. Other teams have caught up, and some have overtaken Mumbai. These days, Mumbai are "one of the strong teams", looking for a way back to the top. Maharashtra have been doing well for years, without quite scaling the final frontier of winning the Ranji Trophy. 

This year's Ranji tournament saw teams placed in groups. Teams in each group were to play all others in a round-robin format,  with the top 2 from the group qualifying for the quarterfinals. Maharashtra and Mumbai were drawn in the same group along with other big-name teams like Delhi, Tamil Nadu and Saurashtra. 

The points format was geared to encourage teams to go for a win - 

• Win - 6 points 
• Dominating Win - (by an innings, or by 10 wickets) - 1 extra bonus point, 7 in total
• Take First-Innings lead in a drawn match - 3 points 
• Concede First-Innings lead in a drawn match - 1 point
• No-result - 1 point to each team

If teams were tied with the same number of points at end of the group stage, the team with more bonus-point wins would get a higher standing. 

When the last round of group matches began, the top 3 teams in the group were placed this way -

• Saurashtra 26 points
• Maharashtra 25 points
• Mumbai 23 points

And Andhra Pradesh was some way behind with 19 points. 

Saurashtra had made it through to the quarterfinals regardless of their final round match result, because they had some bonus-point wins. Maharashtra hadn't lost a single match, but hadn't picked up any bonus-point wins either. And Mumbai had lost a few games, but also picked up some bonus-point wins. 

 The Maharashtra versus Mumbai game was thus billed by the media as a virtual pre-quarterfinal. Whoever got the best of the game would qualify for the quarterfinals. Obviously, an outright win would put the winner through. If the game was drawn and if Mumbai had the first-innings lead, they would draw level with Maharashtra on points, and go ahead because of more bonus points. If Mumbai conceded the first-innings lead, Maharashtra would cruise through into the quarterfinals. 

The two teams were evenly matched with a mix of internationals, domestic stalwarts and upcoming stars. Former India test captain Ajinkya Rahane led Mumbai with young stars like Armaan Jaffer, Suved Parkar and Shams Mulani; while Maharashtra were led by former India A player Ankit Bawne and had stars like former international Kedar Jadhav and all-rounder Azim Kazi. 

The game started. Maharashtra went it to bat first and with Kedar Jadhav scoring a century, ended their innings at 384. Not a bad score, but certainly not unreachable! 

Mumbai began their reply on the second day of the game, aiming for the first innings lead.  Maharashtra were up for the fight - their bowlers kept making breakthroughs and Mumbai ended the day at 180 for 5. The next day, Mumbai continued to push ahead but kept losing wickets. With Mumbai  8 down for 341, Maharashtra had the game under control - but young Mumbai batsman Tanush Kotian didn't give up and kept the score inching forward.  Mumbai lost their 9th wicket as well, but the last-wicket batsman somehow managed to keep his end up. A dozen runs were added and Mumbai reached 384 - with Kotian still batting! 

The scores of both teams were level. Mumbai were on the cusp of taking the lead, but Kotian was bowled off the next ball! In the 88 years and 2,000+ matches of the Ranji Trophy, this was only the 10th time that both teams finished their first innings tied at the same score. 

According to the rules, if the game was drawn without any team getting the first-innings lead, each team would be awarded 1 point. This could have still worked for Maharashtra, but there was terrible news for them from another of the group matches. Andhra Pradesh, who had been beaten comfortably by both Maharashtra and Mumbai earlier in the group games, had won their last game with a day to spare and gained a bonus-point as well!

Andhra were now ahead of both Mumbai and Maharashtra in the points table. Both teams now faced elimination, unless their game produced a result and someone got the 6 points! 

Mumbai and Maharashtra now had to go for a win - starting the second innings with just a day and a bit remaining in the game. Apart from the mental and physical exhaustion of the nail-biting first innings, the news from the Andhra game must have come as a further shock. Nevertheless, the two sets of gladiators set out grimly to fight the game to a finish.

Mumbai had the upper hand initially, knocking half the Maharashtra side out for seventy-odd runs. But the steel in the Maharashtra team showed through, and they fought their way to 252. 

With time running out, Mumbai now needed to score 253 in 28 overs to win - almost a T20 scenario. Rahane's team made a fast start, hitting out from the first over. Bawne, for his part, wanted the 10 Mumbai wickets - he was more than happy to set attacking fields, compelling the Mumbai batsmen to take risks if they wanted runs.

Mumbai scored quickly, while Maharashtra took wickets. Mumbai had lost 6 wickets by the time they scored 150 runs, still more than a hundred runs away from the target. But both teams now ran out of time, and the game ended in an exceptionally exciting draw.

Two strong and capable teams were thus knocked out of the Ranji Trophy at the group stage.  

The Andhra captain, Indian test player Hanuma Vihari,  had tweeted an end-of-tournament message after winning their last group game the previous day, expressing how gutted he was at being knocked out, but how proud he was of his teammates, how well they fought, et cetera... and Vihari now speedily deleted it and replaced with a two-word tweet simply saying "Quarter finals!!!" 

Meanwhile Rahane, Bawne and the rest of the Mumbai and Maharashtra teams reflected on "what might have been"!! 

Plenty of morals of the story! The two  I choose to go with are 

•  Don't think that your immediate adversary is the only problem you have. Someone you completely overlooked and underestimated, can come out of nowhere and hammer you! 

But more importantly - 

• All sports, at all levels, are exciting to follow :-)

Luck, Humility, Fortitude

I landed at Heathrow Airport on a rainy day. The cab driver who picked me up at the airport was about my own age, a man in his forties. “Where did you fly in from today?” he asked in an accent that clearly indicated that he was an immigrant to the UK.

“India”, I answered proudly. “India is doing so well!” my driver said. I puffed up with pride. And from there, the conversation (where I was doing most of the talking) was about India’s remarkable achievements over the past few years, the digital revolution exemplified by Aadhaar and UPI, and how India had overtaken the UK’s GDP. I also may have boasted about how hard my generation had worked for the past 25+ years to drive the growth of India’s software industry.

“Have you read Kishore Mahbubani’s books?” the driver asked me suddenly. I was taken aback – a cab driver knowing more than me on an Indian-origin, world-renowned scholar on foreign policy! I answered humbly that no, I had heard of Mahbubani’s name, but not read his books as yet. The driver (let’s call him Jake) smiled and gave me a short synopsis of one of the recent books by Mahbubani on the rise of China.

I now wanted to know more about Jake. How come such a well-read man was making a living driving a cab? Was he a professor who drove on weekends? Maybe he was a behavioral sciences expert who was making me the subject of his research! I asked Jake where he came from and how he got into this line of work.

Jake started to tell me his story. He had been a student activist in his native country. This was an authoritarian regime, and the government didn’t like the fact that this young man was asking them questions and encouraging his fellow students to do the same. Jake was hauled off into jail and held there for 7 years. He was tortured physically and mentally. The lowest point was when he was forced to witness some executions. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Jake was then released under a promise of good behaviour, after his family put up their home as surety.

With the security services breathing down his neck, Jake felt he had no option but to escape from his country. He came to the UK as a refugee, not knowing a word of English. A charity organization helped him through years of rehabilitation, including psychiatric counselling to overcome his PTSD. Jake was helped to learn English, and he took up work as a cab driver. He started being interviewed regularly by news channels on conditions in his native country.

But Jake’s family was still vulnerable. The family home had been confiscated because Jake had fled. Now, his family members faced harassment every time Jake’s face appeared on a foreign news channel. Jake was compelled to take a step back from making any overt political statements.

Jake worked for many years, saving money and sending it back to his family to pay for purchase of another house. When I met him, he was nearing the successful end of this effort. I asked Jake, what is next for you?  

Jake said with a smile that in his forties, he is now reaching a point where he can look to the future and start with a clean slate. He plans to get back into some form of academia in the UK and register for a masters or a PhD, while continuing to work. And maybe, at some point, he will publish his diary of all his experiences!

Reflecting on this conversation with Jake, I am struck by how much our life journeys are determined by luck. My generation was born in a democratic setup in India. We were extremely lucky to come of age in the 1990s – riding the wave of economic progress in India that in turn enabled the growth of the software industry, giving people like me a globe-trotting career.

Meanwhile, Jake grew up in a country where you could have your life and liberty taken away for asking questions to the  ruling regime. But he then had his share of good luck – coming into contact with a noble charitable organization in the UK that housed and fed him, helped him through his rehabilitation and got him back on his feet.

Through good luck and bad luck, you need to stay humble and face any adversity with fortitude. My friend Jake the cab driver (and hopefully, future professor and bestselling author) has certainly taught me that!  

#luck

#fortitude

#humility

Beer - An Introduction

 It is a hot summer day in 1980. An excited six year old boy is travelling with parents and siblings on a highway in rural Maharashtra, heading to the town where the child's father is currently posted. The child is infamous for being violently carsick at the slightest sign of turbulence - to the intense displeasure amd disgust of the child's elder sisters, who have to keep a wary eye on him whenever the family is on a road trip. And, all this is in an era when car windows have to be kept open - air-conditioning is unheard of.  The hot breeze comes in, slow-baking the  family. 

 Thankfully on this day, the road is clear and smooth, because the said child does not get carsick. The family stops at a highway restaurant for lunch. 

(As with most highway restaurants, this one  serves all kinds of patrons, and advertises  a "permit room" at the back - a fascinating signboard  that the child notes mentally for future exploration.)

The  children are allowed by their strict mother to order "cold drinks", fizzy stuff that would be frowned upon on normal days. Accordingly. a bottle each of the market-dominating brands Thums Up cola,  Limca lemon drink and Gold Spot orange make their appearance. But along with them, something very different is served to the father -  a tall, dark brown bottle, which dwarfs the smaller soft drink bottles. The label says "Golden Eagle" - and when opened, the bottle disgorges yellowish liquid, that is frothy and has a strange sour smell. It is altogether far more interesting than the Limca that is in front of the child. Immediately, the child demands the frothy stuff, not the soft drink. 

 The father indulgently says, certainly, you can have a taste and decide for yourself. Elder sisters and mother do an eye roll. 

The boy is less sure of his impulsive decision, the closer he goes to the mug. The liquid smells even worse at close quarters, and doesn't look all that appealing now. But, having been given permission by the father, it will be really cowardly to decline a taste now. So, closing his eyes, as if it were an undesired medicine, the boy sips the contents of the mug. 

And it is even worse than what the child has imagined. This liquid has a bitter an after-taste as well! Multiple gulps of Limca are required to get rid of the foul taste. The adults laugh at the child's bemused expression and feel they have cured him of any alcohol-inclined explorations. 

But they haven't. The impression of sour-smelling, bitter-tasting, golden-coloured liquid is stored in the child's memory as "to be retrieved and continued at the right age". And that bottle of Golden Eagle lager has certainly paved the way for countless beer drinking, brewing and experimenting sessions in the years since! 

Landing in India

<Written in 2019, pre-pandemic> 

Arriving in India, your mood can swing wildly depending upon the queue at passport control, at baggage collection and at the exit. If you are lucky, your flight has dodged the rush hour, and you will get through passport control in a couple of minutes. But if you happen to land along with two or three other flights, then you have had it - you need to be prepared for 30 minutes or more, waiting in queue.

These days, of course, Indian airports are expected to be far more efficient than any American or British airport - it is a huge change from 30 years ago when “third world” airports like Mumbai were considered hell-holes by  visiting foreigners compared to the beautiful airports in their home countries. Singapore and Middle Eastern airports are still a little way ahead of India today, but Mumbai, Delhi, Hyderabad and Bangalore are all world-class in every respect.
While our airport infrastructure has improved dramatically and offers a standard, global-standards experience, our culture remains uniquely Indian - and two experiences I had around 2009/2010.

One experience was very negative while the other one was the polar opposite and brings a smile to my face even today.

Let me start with the negative experience.

I was living in the UK then, and travelled frequently to India for work. The IPad had just been launched and I had purchased one. In my rucksack, I was carrying my work laptop as well as brand-new IPad.  The flight landed in Mumbai around 10 am. While I was going through the final baggage X-Ray just before exit, a white-uniformed customs officer called me aside. A Mumbai police constable was with him - a nice brotherhood in corruption between the union government and the state government! 

The customs officer told me that it was not allowed to bring two laptops into the country (The Ipad was a new product and probably was genuinely considered a laptop.) He asked me who the Ipad was for. I said truthfully (and in retrospect, maybe foolishly) that I was not sure. I would gift it to my father if he liked it, or I will use it myself. The customs officer saw his opportunity. He said I should either get into a queue and pay Rs. 10,000 in customs duty at the State Bank of India counter, or “settle with him directly”!

I looked at the customs officer. He was a North Indian, tall and smart-looking in a crisp white uniform with epaulettes. He was in his thirties, about the same age as me. Would such a person have entered government service a crook, calculating from the very beginning how he could make money on the side? Or, had the system slowly turned an idealistic officer into a corrupt one, where he thought he was forced to take bribes to fit in? And what thick-skinned shamelessness this officer had developed, to demand a bribe in a crowded airport, in broad daylight! 

Meanwhile, the elderly Mumbai police constable stood by, senior in years but clearly the junior accomplice in this double act. I was reminded of an eager dog waiting by the dining table, for the master to throw some scraps.

My reverie would probably have lasted a few seconds. The customs officer brought me back to the present and rudely asked “So what have you thought? What do you want to do?”

I was feeling really tired after a long economy-class flight. Once again, I said the first thing that came to my mind - I blurted out, “I just want to go home.” And to put off the bribe demand I said “My father is a government officer; and he would be really unhappy if he comes to know I did anything underhand”
Unwittingly I had uttered the magic mantra. “Government officer” meant to the bent customs official, someone who could potentially trace him out within the system and government network, and cause him unwanted trouble. 

There was an immediate change in the officer's demeanor. He now said - with significantly more respect than earlier - “Sir, all I need is an assurance from you that you will take this extra laptop with you when you depart India.” In response, I said “Yes, I assure you” or words to that effect, and I was allowed to leave without any further ado.

I’ve thought of this incident several times in the years since. It is a fact that many Indians are crooks. We don’t trust the system, and we dislike rules, so we try to find ways around them. And the people who are responsible for the system being maintained are fellow Indians, some of whom will naturally sniff out the opportunities to be corrupt. 

That morning in Mumbai, I was small fry. Maybe the officer realised that every minute he wasted with me, he was losing out on opportunities to locate genuine offenders who could be shaken down for a bigger bribe!

Thankfully, I have had just one such experience in 20 years of international travel to and from India.

Many Indians may be crooks, but many other Indians are genuinely warm and friendly- and one of my favorite airport memories is from the same Mumbai airport, a few months after the IPad experience.

I had arrived around 11 am after a long, sleepless flight. This one was memorably bad - while I had managed to get an exit row seat (more leg room), I had managed to seat myself  right next to two  babies - both of whom had howled non-stop throughout the flight!  

The queue at passport control was not very long, and as I came up to the counter I smelt Masala chai. The officers were being served tea on the job, someone was going from counter to counter pouring out steaming tea into small paper cups! The fragrance was delicious.  Handing over my passport for stamping, I said to the officer “ The first thing I am going to do when I go out, is get a cup of masala chai! You don’t get such nice tea in London!” 

And the officer smiled at me and said, “Why wait till you go out?” - he passed me the cup he had just been served himself, while the tea-boy poured him another one. He stamped my passport and waved away any attempt by me to pay for the tea!

The tea was beautiful and hot, and more than the tea, it was the small gesture of friendship and humanity that charmed me. How much would the tea have cost? Maybe 5 or 10 Rupees. How long will I remember this gesture? For the rest of my life. So thank you Mr. Satarkar, wherever you are now, for restoring my spirits that day and making me remember that Indians are warm as well.