Snoring in Train: A Surreal Connection to a WWII Spitfire

The train chugged into platform #3 at 9:45 pm. I had a client meeting in Coimbatore and, miracle of miracles, I beat Bangalore traffic and arrived an hour early. Victory dance, anyone?

The beauty of late-night trains is you can hop on, deal with the ticket collector, and then straight to bed. Early evening trains? Ugh. You get the whole circus: tea/coffee vendors, biscuit sellers, dinner caterers, and, of course, the beggars. Not to mention the chatty co-passengers who think they're on a late-night talk show.

Adventures in Railway Berths and Snoring Symphonies

I found my berth in coach B2 and couldn't believe my luck: a lower berth! I was about to give myself an invisible high-five when three Gujarati-speaking ladies entered. The youngest, a cute lady, sweetly asked if I'd swap my lower berth for the middle one so her elderly mother could have my spot. With a smile that could melt butter, I couldn't say no.

Moments later, the same lady made a similar request to the other guy with a lower berth, this time for her aunt who had the upper berth. The guy looked crestfallen and mentioned some vague nasal problem but agreed to swap with me. So, two swaps later, I was promoted to the upper berth, with Mr. Nasal Problem right below me.

Nasal Nightmares: When Snoring Sounds Like a Spitfire

Nothing unusual about this guy, except for a flap of skin behind his head that looked like a dog ear. He quickly hit the sack and began making deep guttural sounds. His "nasal problem" was an understatement; it sounded like a WWII Spitfire engine on its last legs.

Being right above him, I experienced the full acoustic effect. It was like being in a dogfight, with this guy creating turbulence below me. I reached for my Philips GoGear MP3 player, only to find I had no earplugs. Desperate, I considered cotton buds, but that was like holding an umbrella in a thunderstorm.

His snores varied in rhythm and pitch, making it impossible to ignore. Each minute felt like an eternity. I stepped out of the AC cabin, hoping the TC (ticket collector) was still around. By some miracle, he was. I explained my predicament, and he muttered something in Tamil while scanning the reservation chart.

"B51 is available," he finally said. I almost hugged him. I quickly grabbed my stuff and navigated the cold, dark railway bogey, which now resembled a morgue with bodies wrapped in white sheets. I found B51, another upper berth. Relief was short-lived, though - this section had not one but two snorers already in full swing!

I landed in Coimbatore the next morning, bleary-eyed and sleepless, feeling like I had survived a night in a snoring symphony orchestra

Aero India

admitation

 

IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FORM OF FLATTERY -  a phrase usually said ( ironically though)  when someone tries to gain attention by copying someone else's original ideas. I am not sure whether this highway restaurant guy (whom I encountered recently) got the right attention or not but his copying of the ‘ No Admission ’ with a twist was certainly flattering .

Banking by design. Architectural Tales of India's Banking Bastions

Embark with me on a journey through the bustling streets of Bangalore and Mangalore, where the facades of financial fortresses tell tales of contrast and character. This isn't just a tale of my recent visits to various bank headquarters; it's a story of how architecture and design whisper the silent yet potent language of brand identity.

Let's start with the public sector banks, where time seems to have paused, holding on to the charm of yesteryears. Public sector banks have this - no frill, sedate & dull almost to the point of boring you to death types of receptions. One (Canara Bank) resembled a check-in counter at the airport, complete with uniformed staff manning a X-ray baggage checking machine next to the receptionist. Another (Vijaya Bank) had large showcases of what appeared to be several large trophies & awards around its reception area. I don’t know where & how they won so many but it certainly reminded me of my school & college receptions. Corporation Bank had this wooden box like reception area that resembled a ticketing counter of a 70 era cinema theater.

In stark contrast, the private sector banks were like stepping into the future. ING Vysya's entrance boasted revolving glass doors that ushered me into a world where art and commerce met—a giant steel sculpture hanging like a modern chandelier, a testament to the bank's sophistication and contemporary vision.

Essentially the style and substance in presentation speaks a lot of the banks, and it seems only the private sector banks used it as a calling card and a sophisticated way of differentiating from peers. Given the bad reputation and some stigma facing the industry it made a lot of sense for banks to trade goodwill and reputations through their corporate front offices.

Years back when I was working with ICICI Bank I used to marvel at its BKC headquarters, a place for our frequent visits and meetings. It appeared as jewel-de-paragon on the Bandra-kurla complex which during the initial years of its completion stood out against the monolithic blocks of concrete buildings as one entered the complex from Bandra side. I couldn’t differentiate these buildings from the fort (some called it residence named Matoshree) of the rabble rouser politician Bal Thackeray) who lived on the other side of the road. Several other organizations sprung around ICICI Bank later each trying to outdo the other in architectural splendor.

Magnificent as was it from outside contrast the reception where loud and bawdy Marathi speaking manoos’es who many a times doubled up as security and receptionists undid most of sophistication that Kamath had tried to portray as a dynamic universal Bank.

Years later, I found myself at Centurion Bank of Punjab in Mahalakshmi, where an old mill had been transformed into a corporate haven. Staying in Belvedre Court and walking to the office next door was the envy of my colleagues who knew a thing or two about Mumbai commuting. While on the exterior, the building exuded some charm of a heritage building the interiors were all glass and gloss. There was one small glitch though, a secretarial college rubbed shoulders with CBoP as its neighbor in the same complex.

Finally to understand how size can be one’s own undoing one can visit the head offices of NABARD in Mumbai. You will be reminded of how it would have been like while being swallowed by a 10000 pound dinosaur.