Have a blessed day!
It was in Pune that I met Narayan Murty through my friend Prasanna who is now the Wipro chief, who was also training in Telco. Most of the books thatPrasanna lent me had Murty’s name on them which meant that I had a preconceived image of the man. Contrary to expectation, Murty was shy,bespectacledand an introvert. When he invited us for dinner.. I was a bit taken aback as I thought the young man was making a very fast move. I refused since I was theonly girl in the group. But Murty was rel! entless and we all decided to meet for dinner the next day at 7.30 p.m. at Green Fields hotel on the Main Road,Pune.
The next day I went there at 7′ o clock since I had to go to the tailor near the hotel. And what do I see?Mr. Murty waiting in front of the hotel and it was only seven. Till today, Murty maintains that I had mentioned (consciously!) that I would be going to the tailor at 7 so that I could meet him…And I maintain that I did not ! say any such thing consciously or unconsciously because I did not think of Murty as anything other than a friend at that stage. We have agreed to disagree on this matter.Soon, we became friends. Our conversations were filled with Murty’s experiences abroad and the books that he has read. My friends insisted that Murty was trying to impress me because he was interested in me.
I kept denying it till one fine day, after dinner Murty said, I want to tell you something. I knew this was it. It was coming.
He said, I am 5’4″ tall. I come from a lower middle class family. I can never become! rich in my life and I can never give you any riches. You are beautiful, bright, and intelligent and you can get anyone you want. But will you marry me?
I asked Murty to give me some time for an answer. My father didn’t want me to marry a wannabe politician,(a communist at that) who didn’t have a steady job and wanted to build an orphanage…When I went to Hubli I told my parents about Murty and his proposal. My mother was positive since Murty was also from Karnataka, seemed intelligent and comes from a good family. But my father asked: What’s his job, his salary, his qualifications etc? Murty was working as a research assistant and was earning less than me.He was willing to go dutch with me on our outings.
My parents agreed to meet Murty in Pune on a particular day at10 a. m sharp. Murty did not turn up. How can I trust a man to take care of my daughter if he cannot keep an appointment, asked my father. At 12noon Murty turned up in a bright red shirt! He had gone on work to Bombay, was stuck in a traffic jam on the ghats, so he hired a taxi(though it was very expensive for him) to meet his would-be father-in-law. Father was unimpressed. My father asked him what he wanted to become in life. Murty said he wanted to become a politician in the communist party and wantedto open an orphanage. My father gave his verdict. NO. I don’t want my daughter to marry somebody who wants to become a communist and then open an orphanage when he himself didn’t have money to support his family.Ironically, today, I have opened many orphanages something, which Murty wanted to do 25 years ago. By this time I realized I had developed a liking towardsMurty which could only be termed as love. I wanted to marry Murty because he is an honest man. He proposed to me highlighting the negatives in his life. Ipromised my father that I will not marry Murty without his blessings though at the same time, I cannot marry anybody else. My father said he would agree if Murty promised to take up a steady job. But Murty refused saying he will not do things in life because somebody wanted him to. So, I was c! aught between the two mostimportant people in my life.
The stalemate continued for three years during which our courtship took us to every restaurant and cinema hall in Pune. In those days, Murty was always broke.Moreover, he didn’t earn much to manage. Ironically today, he manages Infosys Technologies Ltd.,
Towards the late 70s computers were entering India in a big way.During the fag end of 1977 Murty decided to take! up a job as General Manager at Patni Computers in Bombay. But before he joined the company he wanted to marry me since he was to go on training to the US after joining. My father gave in as he was happy Murty had a decent job, now. We were married in Murthy’s house in bangalore on february 10, 1978 with only out two families present. The wedding expenses came to only Rs.800 ( US $17 ) with Murthy and I pooling in Rs.400 each.I went to the US with Murty after marriage. Murty encouraged me to see America on my own because I loved travelling. I toured America for three months onbackpack and had interesting experiences which will remain freshin my mind forever. Like the time when the New York police took me into custody because! they thought I was an Italian trafficking drugs in Harlem.Or the time when I spent the night at the bottom of the Grand Canyon with an old couple. Murty panicked because he couldn’t get a response from my hotel room even at midnight. He thought I was either killed or kidnapped.
IN 1981 MURTY WANTED TO START INFOSYS. HE HAD A VISION AND ZERO CAPITAL…initially I was very apprehensiveabout Murty getting into business. We did not have any business background.. Moreover we were living a comfortable life in Bombay with a regular pay checkand I didn’t w! ant to rock the boat. But Murty was passionate about creating good quality software. I decided to support him.Typical of Murty, he just had a dream and no money. So I gave him Rs 10,000 which I had saved for a rainy day, without his knowledge and told him, This is all Ihave. Take it. I give you three years sabbatical leave. I will take care of the financial needs of our house. You go and chase your dreams without any worry. But you have only three years!
Murty and his six colleagues started Infosys in 1981,with e! normous interest and hard work. In 1982 I left Telco and moved to Pune with Murty. We bought asmall house on loan which also became the Infosys office. I was a clerk-cum-cook-cum-programmer.I also took up a job as Senior Systems Analyst with Walchand group of Industries to support the house. In 1983 Infosys got their first client, MICO, in Bangalore. Murty moved to Bangalore and stayed with his mother while I went to Hubli to deliver my second child, Rohan. Ten days after my son was born, Murty left for the US on project work. I saw him only after a year, as I was unable to join Murty in the US because my son had infantile eczema, an allergy to vaccinations. So formore than a year I did not step outside our home for fear of my son contracting an infection. It was only after Rohan got all his vaccinations that I came to Bangalore where we rented a small house in Jayanagar and rented another house as Infosys headquarters.
My father presented Murty a scooter to commute. I once again became a cook, programmer, clerk, secretary, office assistant et al. Nandan Nilekani (MD of Infosys) and his wife Rohini stayed with us. While Rohini babysat my son, I wrote programs for Infosys. There was no car, no phone, and just two kids and a bunch of us working hard, juggling our lives and having fun while Infosys as taking sh! ape. It was not only me but also the wives of other partners too who gave their unstinted support. We all knew that our men were trying to build somethinggood.It was like a big joint family,taking care and looking out for one another. I still remember Sudha Gopalakrishna looking after my daughter Akshata with all care and love while Kumari Shibulal cooked for all of us.
Murty made it very clear that it would either be me or him working at Infosys. Never the two of us together… I was involved with Infosys initially. Nandan Nilekani suggested I should be on the Board but Murty said he did not want a husband and wife team at Infosys. I was shocked since I had the relevantexperience and technical qualifications.He said, Sudha if you want to work with Infosys, I will withdraw, happily. I was pained to know that I will not be involved in the company my husband was building and that I would have to give up a job that I am qualified to do and love doing. It took me a couple of days to grasp the reason behind Murty’s request.. I realized that to make Infosys a success one had to give one’s 100 percent. One had tobe focussed on ! it alone with no other distractions. If the two of us had to give 100 percent to Infosys then what would happen to our home and our children? One of us had to take care of our home while the other took care of Infosys.I opted to be a homemaker, after all Infosys was Murty’s dream. It was a big sacrifice but it was one that had to be made.
Even today, Murty says, Sudha, I stepped on your career to make mine. You are responsible for my success. I might have given up my! career for my husband’s sake.But that does not make me a doormat….
Go and watch the movie before somebody spills the story to you……
It is okay if somebody does that too because none can give you the effect the movie carves for you.
It is one of those must watch movies which are not for the masses unfortunately, it is for a little cut above and only such a crowd will enjoy it…
It was worth the one hour wait in front of the ticket counter.
My only drive to watch “Rang de Basanti, was Aamir Khan. Yes, my mom says I am this actor’s biggest fan even though I have no collections of his posters and autographs or his tattooed on my body.
I had no clue as to what the movie was all about;
I knew the film had four guys and youth for that matter, wondered where Aamir khan fitted into the film.
Saw a foreign actor in the promos
Heard some of the songs while passing the television once in a while at home
And of course the posters with Aamir in that hair style of his…
But I wanted to see the film.
Lose control ….
Two and a half hours of entertainment – visual, sound, technology, and thoughts for the mind to ponder on….a treat for anyone who loves to be mesmerized by a film.
I am even now nearly twenty hours after being out of the theatre, the performance, music and the transition still booms in my mind. I have downloaded all the songs of the film and it is entertaining my working brain at the moment since this morning.
If I have to compare the film to something in terms of way it is captured and conceived, it reminds me of The Bible…the Old and the New Testament….words into action…the transition from the past to the present, east man colour to colour proper. It just seems as if the pictures in our history books were projected onto the screen….”simon go back”, conspiracy….
every body has a role and the effect is the film …
Go watch the movie
they cause the eyes to melt
or the body to shriek without pain.
Model T is a room with the lock inside —
a key is turned to free the world
But time is tied to the wrist
or kept in a box, ticking with impatience.
In homes, a haunted apparatus sleeps,
that snores when you pick it up.
If the ghost cries, they carry it
to their lips and soothe it to sleep
with sounds. And yet, they wake it up
deliberately, by tickling with a finger.
with water but nothing to eat.
They lock the door and suffer the noises
alone. No one is exempt
and everyone’s pain has a different smell.
and read about themselves —
in colour, with their eyelids shut.
Generally I am very non – poetic and non – poetry yet, not anti this genre of writing; can’t make sense of most of the them most of the time and therefore keep away from those couplets and words that rhyme and lines which are strung together by the iambic or dactylic mono, di, tri…penta or hexa meter. (shows my helplessness doesn’t it)
But this one is a special one. I simply loved reading it when introduced to it first. Maybe it is the riddlic nature of the Craig Raine’s style that got me attracted to this one….
It comes under the “Martian School of poetry” where experimentation is the key term. The poem tries to look at contemporary society through an outsider’s eyes, an observer who is not even human.
Well familiarization indeed leads to a lot of unawareness to a lot of things around us, and a third person’s view on such common things can indeed start us thinking on whatever we have missed, like in the “ A Hairy tale” in Vidya’s Blog (check it out). It is like talking to a child who knows not the terms for the object s(he) is describing.
A riddle to end the weekend…..
It is a “riddle poem”…figure it out and let me know the answers (no googling required at all) and yes of course your take on it…
the poet has answered the first three …caxton, rain and mist ….guess the others ….
enjoy the weekend folks……
“Please keep that rage of yours in control”
I don’t know why she loves calling it rage but that’s what she defines me when I blow off the handle once in awhile, at times always.
It is just like argument the first or second generation Christians make to the older ones who has had countless generations of their ancestors in the same faith about their faith. Similar is the case when children learn ABC and think their parents don’t know it and start teaching them
A similar incident occurred this weekend when I had to show my black face to three friends of mine while playing a card game of 28. Childish of me they said!!! MAY BE.
This is a serious doubt. How does one count experience and the knowledge of a person on a particular subject.
In my case, well I had been playing 28 from a very long time, since childhood as it was my Mom’s favorite game , even my granny’s (now how my granny learned the game would have to be explained through the British connections – my gr8 grandfather’s friends…well that is the colonial history ) while my bro and me also played Rummy as it was a game my dad preferred …
Now a few years of hostel life compared with my whole looooooong childhood and adolescence taken together for experience I guessl (with my poor mathematics skills) the total might come up to me being more well versed in the game than my friend.
Now why deny it. Why the big male/female ego which just makes him/her say what is wrong is 200% right when it is actually b******t (well had to use it. Sorry!!) Of course we had a fight…but the game went on …accept your mistake….I agree there are versions of the games but when would we ever say that a striker in the pocket for Carroms is a point?
Well lessons learned from the session….
Never argue when you know that you are right and the opponent is wrong…especially when the other is arrogant and stubborn….you just say once or twice mildly and let it be…..if they don’t come around, their mistake!!!… it is just friends now, who knows he might have to let his/her head down in front of strangers which is humiliating…but we told you before! You never listened; you never gave an ear to it… (Well rude it might be. But we did do our best)
Lesson two …even if you are right and a heated argument is on, if you shout and scream, people will remember only your anger and the noise and think nothing about the debate or the point you were making….
With friends it is ok… but think about….so what is this sharing of knowledge when the we and the other wants to stick to his/her views irrespective of that being right or wrong…do we keep quite and watch the fun or let face it at a later time ….lets be more open and proactively erase our egos to accommodate new knowledge otherwise we are the losers in the long run …
Food for thought? I would love to know your side of too….
Well the tag virus has caught me too ……..
Tagged by Vishnu, Ganga and Pradeep
- The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
- Need to mention the sex of the target.
- Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.
- If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.
- Genuine and spontaneous
- cool headed
- like Me love Me accept Me – the crazy weird Me
- cuddly, sweet and handsome
- as supportive as can be
- an interactive listener whom I can talk to 24/7 openly without any qualms whatsoever –
- my best friend
Now as the tradition goes me tagging 8 people more whom I guess I would love to take the tag on …
Now Malika invited me over for a dinner and now it is up to me to invite 6 others …and give reason as to why….well I decided I would invite 8 and pass along both the tags…
So my 8 blog buddies whom I would love to invite for dinner and why
Sai…my first online buddy I saw and chatted in person …more so for his dinner because he has to treat me his birthday on 14 jan…
Vishwa….there is something that draws me to his blogs daily …maybe twice or thrice in a day…to reread his posts sometimes….the magnetism …in thoughts and actions …and a well wisher…
Chez…without whom the dinner will not be a whole any way …at times his posts are an inspiration for me to think more and then pen down and those I felt are the best I have written so far…but behind all that Godly talk …there is a gentle soul who really cares…
And Bhanu, to bring in those light moments when a heated discussion is on. we’ll have it only when u are well and standing on your feet…
Harsh….who is a bit of everything …and to bring us all into the company of books we all are interested in…
Finally well I need some company in this male world …My EU…Malika…who is a friend I have known through words…just reading them…
And Keshi…for all she has become in this short span to me…
And to balance it all lets invite Leena to the gang…too …somebody I am part of these days ……
upto to u guys to keep up the tradition ….
Signs of maturity …wow!!!
The buffalo which blocked the traffic today on our way near the Secret Lake….had a whiff of white hair on its forehead ….it looked more like a cobra cut as my ex school principal liked to put it ….for the fringes we had cut to be fashionable much to the angst of the school authorities….
Does that white hair if I could call it hair be a sign of old age? I wonder if I then had an encounter with a Grandfather Buffalo this morning that has been living a long life and has many grand children.
Well for all I know it could be the effect of the water in the city that could be turning their hair white.
The hair dye industry in the city of Hyderabad is a very prosperous one. The water makes it mandatory for all the young professionals here to make use of the hair colour. Fashionable without giving it a thought, I guess with the different hair colour other than white, fashionable by a force or a law of nature.
I had a Prof in my university who had white hair, most of it …and she never bothered to paint it yellow orange or blue or green for that matter. She just let it be the way it was…..…..it was odd to see somebody as young as this lady with an casual attitude to hair colour like that…..she believed in being different I guess…
She is an exception but the rest of the non Hyderabadis are not….they do get nightmares regarding their beautiful which falls, whitens and softens within a matter of minutes and hours of a bath in the city municipal water.
Of course like the saying goes ….a coin has two sides…….
The positives for a change ….
Lack of hair and white hair …..Sign of maturity…20 some mature adults that should be an honor, I guess to be…should be like Steffi felt when she won her junior Wimbledon crown in 1980s.
Less hair means less care…….no unnecessary expenditure sessions at the Beauty parlor…and of course no more such sessions on our hairstyles …
Maybe all of you could add on for the lack of melanin in our body and our flirtings with hard water in our work cities…..
Good day ….
“Why famished?” why not I asked myself as the “Kids” beside me reviewed the movie with the eyes of a critic when all I wanted was a little bit of quite to watch a movie with “different glasses” according to the reviews. Hungry is too common a word and will not convey what being famished is all about …ask a linguistic and he/she will tell you that there are no synonyms in the English language. Each word has its own meaning which might be a little different from the other. (A relatively new theory)
Food for thought: think about kill, murder, assassination, patricide, matricide…all mean taking the life of another living being but can we substitute one for the other ….difficult.
Think about other words like these …..Maybe joy, happiness, ecstasy, jubilation….
The “Kids” beside me went on with their running commentary and their musical chairs minus the music…..I wondered whether I was like that a year or two ago when I was younger (as a friend corrected me sometime back). We nicknamed them kids and we felt like old white haired adults who had just celebrated our 70th birthday. They should have watched a cartoon movie instead commented one of my friends who sat beside me to my right in the first row from the screen. Now if somebody tells me, let them be… why to bother a bunch of adult immature people, then I would have said, it would have been fine if they sat a row or two behind me and not right next to me, so close that I can hear even a girl friend comment in between oh your hair is so velvety how do u manage….please the guy has no hair on his head.
But the movie was good; a good watch, 15 Park Avenue; one of those kinds which as a friend said this afternoon would not be appealing to her mother who enjoyed Bluff master and No Entry or those kinds where one keeps the brain in a freezer and go watch, hold your sides and then retrieve it at the end of 3 hours.
I am so glad and thankful to all those who never turned up to watch the movie in spite of booking it online or on the phone earlier in the day or a day or two ago…
Watch it if you can but not in Hyderabad as I watched the movie….last day last show!!
I was on a train that evening which was taking me back home. It was the holiday season and I was writing exams to get into a college for my further studies. The train was slow and stopped at every nook and corner it possibly could find but it never mattered as sleep was the overpowering feeling within all the passengers that night as always.
The train was sparely populated and my father got into talking with our neighbors, another father-daughter pair. The daughter kind of looked lively but I was in no mood to put on my gregarious Aquarian self during that journey. Courtesies were exchanged and the only mode of communication between us was the smile which lighted our faces every time a train passed by and the sound woke us up.
First day in college and there she stands in her with her same golden colored bag all ready to enter the same class I was to go in and take a seat in. The train girls as we called each other realized the chatterboxes we are and wondered how we could keep away from each other that for more than 14 hours sitting beside each other –
A mystery to us ever since people started calling us best friends for life.
She just hugs me tight and checks my arms as if I had been hit by something a while ago. It seems she was in a state of flux till then as to my whereabouts that morning. The relief just showed on her face that yes I was indeed alive. But the arm did show signs of a rash or a scratch as a car just missed hitting me while I was crossing the road to see her that day.
Out of sight yet not out of thought.
I just felt the urge to hear her bubbling voice. It was 3 in the morning, one of those winter nights in Hyderabad during December. Her voice sounded different over the phone, yes, it wasn’t her….it was strange as the receiver said she was about to dial my number as my friend wanted to hear me that moment. She was in bed with fever.
A mile = a heart beat away.