The Roads Less Travelled …

Here is a good read on my ex-employer Pi Corporation; while the article says much is under the shadows as it is PI delivers a platform circumventing not only the problem of personal data limited to a machine as in standalone Windows desktop as Paul Maritz says in the article but it also smartly manages to overcome the privacy concerns that people have in uploading sensitive information onto central servers as is the wont of Google and Yahoo.

When Google launched Gmail with the adsense program, the backlash it faced brought into question their entire existence; it seemed for a time that it was well in the way of becoming the next Big Brother. Though that storm has died down, it emphasized once again how important the concern of privacy of data is. The essential difference in the way that Google (and Yahoo to some extent) are trying to solve the problem is to appropriate the user data by uploading it to a central server. To be visible to the entire web you have to be on the web. And being on the web raises privacy concerns. Sort of a catch-22 situation. But PI, I believe has managed to go solve this situation in a very unique manner by putting together a set of solutions for seemingly unrelated problems.

Though not a part of the team any longer, I am still rooting for them. Can they become the next big thing? That would depend on many other issues other than just the technology demonstration and we would have to wait and watch.

My first memory of a soccer match is the shocker that Cameroon gave the world when it defeated an Argentinian team with the Diego Maradona in Italia, ‘90. There was an all pervading sense of shock - how can a team with Maradona lose? For by that time, he was to the world probably the greatest footballer who ever lived; one who had single handedly taken Argentina to the ultimate prize four years earlier in Mexico. I did not know this at that time; I remember wondering what the fuss was all about.

Having finished Standard 3, I was all nine years of age and in the middle of a rather boring summer vacation. The daily digests of the matches at Italia ‘90, that came at around 10:00 or 10:30 p.m. every night were the only variance in the monotone of those days of sweltering heat. I followed the nightly digests with almost religious regularity. I remember very little of those viewings; but I do remember two things very clearly: Argentina (Maradona, Goycoechea) and Cameroon (Roger Milla). Tolstoy said, in War and Peace, that generals sitting in their tents might make make all the plans they want, but in the end the battle is decided not by their plans but by the soldiers fighting on the field; with all their machinations the generals have no way of knowing how the soldiers are going to fight. No truer statement could be made for football. And I believe it is this fact that generates the passion for the game; for there is always hope. The fan can dream till the end for that one magical moment which would turn the match in his sides’ favour.

By USA’ 94, I was not only four years older, I was infiniely more educated in matters concerning football. This was also the first time that I wasgetting to see the games live for which I woke up early in the mornings (5 a.m.)  and stayed up late in the night. And this is the only time I saw Maradona play live. The match against Greece will remain forever etched in memory as will be the dejected look on the face of the Argentine players going out to Romania. During those days I used to play football on the road, barefoot, with friends. On the day of the final we had a game with one team as Brazil and the other Italy; game was tied 1-1, when the sun set and the match was decided on penalties. Brazil won. I was in the Italian team.

France, 98. I had just finished 11th class and was preparing for JEE, the most important examination, I was told, I would ever give. It was a tough time. I was looking forward to WC but my parents were not too happy with my spending the time in front of the television. I watched all the matches till the Italy-France quarters after which Mom literally put a curfew on the television. I missed the great quarter-final between Argentina and Holland and missed Dennis Bergkamp getting his last minute wonder goal. I remember straining my ears to hear the commentary coming from neighbouring house, trying to piece together from incoherent words and snatches of conversation the happenings of the match. I was back for the semifinals and finals though, seeing the the great Zizou powering France a hapless Brazil.

2002, Korea and Japan. During a WC held nearest to home, I was furthest away from it. In the summer of 2002, I was doing my internship at INRIA near Paris. Watching matches was again tough since I had to be in the office by 10:00 a.m. and left the place only after 6:00 p.m..  I saw most of the 7 a.m. matches there, and some of the 10:00 a.m. and the 1:00 p.m. (including the Argentina vs england tie) ones. It was tough on the weekdays. I would perenially tracking the scores at some website while at work. But it was a different matter on the weekends. I would watch all the matches and for some of the matches, including the final I went to the Palace De Ville to watch it on the big screen put there. Seeing a match in between so many people, was a completely different experience. It was more like rock concert than a football match. And despite Kahnian antics, Brazil with Ronaldo sporting a hairstyle more suited probably for certain other parts of the human anatomy toom away the cup. Anyway Argentina, the team I had supported since 1994, were out in the first round so I had no one to really support.

And so onto now. Germany, ‘06. Let the games begin and the journey continue.

Technorati Tags: soccer, world cup 2006

There was a time when Bajaj scooters ruled the roost on Indian roads. Supers and Chetaks were the order of the day; Lambys had become unfashionable and Vespas tried to compete but just. And bikes with 100 km a litre had not captured the imagination of the masses.

If in those days one had to picture a quintessential middle class Indian family, it would be a snap of a Bajaj scooter with: the father driving,  trying hard to concentrate on the task at hand - that of herding his family safely to their destination; the younger kid, standing in the front, wind rushing through the hair, elation written on the face at this chance of discovering the world outside; the mother, sitting sideways, clucthing the stepney tire, with a rather vacant expression; and the elder kid sandwiched between both parents, twisting his head this side and the other, desperately trying not to miss the view on account of his position. Driving further this picture into the Indian psyche was the famous “Hamara Bajaj” advert; the idea behind which was clearly that a family isn’t complete (or middle enough) without a Bajaj.

And what a vehicle it was. Not particularly appealing to look at, it made up for the lack in the looks by its sheer versatility in usage, its durability on Indian roads and the fact that whatever the problem be it would probably be solved by tilting the vehicle for 30 seconds at an angle of thirty degrees. A popular joke -  “The Indian rocket did not fire. What to do? Just tilt it for a second.” - only helped to reinforce the hold of this vehicle on the Indian mind.

This picture however has gradually faded into obscurity (atleast for me); the once ubiquitous scooter gradually getting replaced by the more fuel efficient bikes; first Hero Honda and then followed by Bajaj Kawasaki amongst others. Therefore, on my way to Airport Road, idling away my time in an auto, I was pleasantly surprized to see this picture in front of me in life. Where earlier it would have looked perfectly natural on an Indian road, today it looked incongrous in a menagerie of vehicles; Santros, Ikons, Pulsars, Autos. And I was struck by how quickly images fade away, confined to the dusty environs that many like to call history. Till once in a while someone gets them out of that cobwebbed corner of memory, glances upon it reminiscing about the days gone by, before casting it back to the same corner.

What then has replaced hamara bajaj? Is there something that would define the state, aspiration and the hopes of the Indian middle class  today? Or is the idea itself anachronistic - with the middle class so diverse as to escape a minimalist generalization of one picture?

However, I believe that this picture remains important milestone in the history of Indian society. It signalled the mass acceptance of an urban lifestyle and of the nuclear family which were important precursors to the widespread changes that liberalization of the economy entailed. In a country of such vast cultural differences, it remains one of the few symbols that was once understood all across the country. If only for this reason, the picture of Hamara Bajaj will remain etched in our memories.