the other goa

Goa, to employ a cliche, didn't quite feel the same after its recent publicised brushes with drugs, rape and murder. A friend recommended the charming Cavala Seaside Resort at Baga. It turned out to be not quite seaside, but definitely charming.
The beach at Baga is not much. The area generally attracts the budget crowd, Indian and foreign, and it shows. The beach and its whereabouts are filthy and congested. And, after the Scarlett Keeling incident, I couldn't help trying to discern the dope-heads from the sozzled. Anjuna was definitely not on the agenda, though, I have to admit, it does have among the more interesting beaches in North Goa -- lots of craggy nooks and corners.
By the third day I began to wonder, had Goa lost its charm for me? After all, not much has changed in the last 8-9 years that I've been visiting the place. Foreigners have always peddled and consumed drugs, petrol has always been sold in one litre Bisleri bottles at marked up prices even as petrol pumps run dry, little brown boys have always had old white uncles buying them lolly pops...and so on.
Before Scarlett, none of this really bothered me. But this time, the only photograph I clicked for this blog was the poster (top right) decrying paedophilia. "Is this working? Has the incidence come down?" I asked the gentleman at whose restaurant entrance I found it. "It goes on. You still see little boys on bikes behind foreigners," he said.
Before leaving, I visited Candolim beach, which is where I usually stay, and found that it was pretty much the same, peaceful place I knew. It was reassuring. Maybe I will still pursue those retirement plans.
Meanwhile, Bombay doesn't hold much cheer at the moment either. The season of movies for pseudo intellectuals continues. After the over-rated Slumdog Millionaire, there's Dev D. Why a story about a pansy continues to inspire movie-makers, beats me. Perhaps, Delhi 6 will be just the antidote I need.

pizza headache

Sometimes I wonder how the Indian BPO industry has been such a phenomenal success. At the end of the day it is about services, delivered globally. So by logic it has to be first class service and I believe that most of it does fall into that category. Yet, I wonder. Why? Because this afternoon I tried to order a pizza.

First I called the Pizza Hut call center:
"Ma'am, your number?" asks the lady at the other end of the line.
I give.
"Ma'am, are you a first time caller?" she asks.
"No," I say.
"Ma'am, your number is not registered with our database," she explains.
"So you will not take my order?" I ask, helpfully.
There is a long pause at the other end. I hang up.

Second call is made to Domino's call center:
"Ma'am, what number are your calling from?" asks a man with a thin voice at the other end of the line.
I tell (and wonder why these guys don't get caller line identification).
"Ma'am, are you a first time caller?" asks thin voice.
"No," I say.
"Ma'am, your number is not showing up on the database," says thin voice.
"Okay, so can you register it now and take my order?" I ask, politely.
"Ma'am, first I will need your address," says thin voice.
I give (patience has now run out and stomach is growling).
"Ma'am, what is your number?" asks thin voice.
I give.
"Ma'am, what is your order?" asks think voice.
I give.
"Ma'am, would you also like a combination offer of blah blah blah bhah..." drones and drones thin voice.
I hang up and place a half a minute order with the Udipi down the street.
Order arrives in 15 minutes.

Moral: Udipi may not have call center and the guy who picks up the phone may not bleat 'Ma'am', but the service rocks (and the food is not bad).

networked journalism

That time of the year again, wet and mucky everywhere and I'm still not sure whether I like it or not. Probably a bit of both. And as Mumbai watches water levels with apprehension, the weather is also perfect for some introspection. Will the press circuit still offer lucrative job hopping opportunities in the next six months? Is it time to get to higher (safer) ground? Is online journalism finally getting its act together? So on and so forth. The last one has been on my mind for well over a year now.
A byline in print is still so very sexy but it is also under great threat. The cost of newsprint, competing with faster alternatives like television, less and less value in the next morning's newspaper to be offered to a fast-changing reader base are all issues that suddenly make a decade of experience in the print business look terribly fallible.
I'd like to think that for little people like myself, the blog is the way out. Think about it. While blogs have become hugely popular across the world, very few are actually credible. Maybe there is a case for marrying journalistic credibility (that does sound a bit ironical) with Web 2.0 concepts such as user-generated content via blogs. Plus, it is low investment. If you fail, well, you have not burnt up your life's savings (which are rather meager at the moment). But, from a journalists' point of view, possibly the biggest advantage of a blog (at least for me) is the ability to connect with readers on a real-time basis. You write crap, they give it back to you within five minutes. The same holds true when it comes to appreciation.
Maybe, it is time to think a little more seriously about this new animal.

chinese dinner with the right attitude

I celebrated my 34th birthday earlier this month and it was a good day. Apart from the more than expected number of 'happy birthdays', the dinner with the family at the end of the day ended it on a perfect note. Because dinner was free. The point is not that it was free but that it turned out to be a pleasant, and quite unexpected, experience in business ethics on the part of the restaurant at which we dined -- Mainland China. Folks in Mumbai need no introduction to the brand. It serves the closest to authentic Chinese cuisine as is possible in this city. Though, if you ask me, I still prefer Kamling, just down the road from Churchgate station, and China Gate in Bandra, necessarily in that order. China Gate has since been struck off my list (specifically the outlet on New Link Road, Andheri West) and I will come to that a little later.
So there we were, the Bigger Half, mother, me and Iamme, sharp at 9.30 pm at the New Link Road, Andheri West, outlet of Mainland China. Dinner starts off well, with dim sums of every kind available. We also do a portion of excellent soup each without incident. Then comes the second starter -- crispy fried chilly potatoes, or something of that nature. And that's when there's a slight dip in celebrations. The Bigger Half scoops up the bottom end of a plastic stirrer with his chilly potatoes. We bring it to the notice of the restaurant manager, who is shocked and profusely apologetic. Anyhow, the rest of the dinner goes off fine and we almost forget about the plastic intrusion. Not that we were not entirely expecting it, but when the time comes to pay the bill, we are informed that it is, "compliments of the house." There and then, Mainland China, becomes my favourite Chinese joint in Mumbai. It is rare, especially in Mumbai, for a mid-sized restaurant to have such grace.
Now contrast this with what happened at China Gate, bang on the other side of New Link Road, just a couple of months ago. We had finished a rather elaborate dinner, paid the bill and were just idling away at the table for a few minutes before leaving. It was a week day and there was nobody waiting for tables. The very rude restaurant manager walks up, asks us if we have paid the bill and then says, "Okay, then you will have to leave." Shocked and insulted, we leave and have never gone back there since. Which is sad for China Gate, because we used to visit that place at least twice a month. Oh well, maybe our bills weren't that big for them to miss us.
Either way, I know which side of the road to stick to for a good Chinese dinner.

slap in the right place

Wonderful game at IPL (Punjab versus Mumbai) last night and I must say that the most satisfying moment was that of Sreesanth being slapped by by Harbhajan Singh. Violence, of course, is never commendable but for once, I think a slap found the right cheek. If there is any sportsperson, and indeed Indian, more irritating and embarrassing to watch in the public arena, it is this idiot Sreeshanth. He is badly behaved, always, and makes my head hang down in shame each time he enacts some antic or the other. And yesterday was no different. He was slapped off camera. So why come on camera to do the crying?
Moving on, the IPL experiment by now has become a roaring success and I actually find myself rushing to get home by eight every day. Though I must admit it does not yet match the excitement of global football -- better looking men and sheer adrenalin in motion. Yet, with IPL, cricket has certainly risen to being much more universal in its appeal and that should be good for the game. I just worry sometimes about too much money too soon not being a good thing for anyone, including cricketers. The extravagance one sees around IPL is reflective of the age of living excessively in Indian cities in the present moment. Booming economy and all that. Except that not all of it is good and happy.