Corporate Memories - The fan mail

Greatness sits prettily on only a chosen few. Like me and Narayan Murthy. We wade across the swamp of life with rare equanimity.

And this sereneness came to my rescue when I was torpedoed by not one, not two but three Narayan Murthys. Those were the only fan mails I got yesterday.

I checked if they came from Taliban or Iraq. No they were Indians.

The language was evil. Even Salman Rushdie would have been proud to receive them.

Some people live in the reflected glory of their last name. like the Gandhis. They do not have to toil like us mortals. Greatness is thrust on them. They do not have to bust their ass.

Unlike me and Narayan Murthy.

But still they are only half blessed. They only carry the last name.

Now consider this triumvirate. They carry not just the last famous name. but the first name too. In our brand obsessed country , they are like the Ferraris of human beings.

And so, like us being more British than the British, these denizens of a charmed club were more offended than the real one. The vintage Ferrari.

My protestations went unheeded as I pleaded helplessly that he is my hero. That he is just a metaphor. That I am a member of his fan club. That check my orkut profile. Until I ran out of excuses and was left muttering that I , that I, that I.

But in their fury they hurled invectives in chaste kannada (or was it Telugu ) forgetting that it was like hurling a bouncer at Sachin Tendulkar.

But we writers are vain. A little flattery is enough to restore our equilibrium. And it makes flattery that more flatterered ( God I have lived in Bush’s country for too long. I have even absorbed his language skills by osmosis) if it comes with a little flutter of doe eyes and if there's a dainty damsel at the end of that syrupy, sugary dulcet voice.

OK you kill joys!. Don’t ask how I saw the flutter and how I heard the dulcet tone.

I know it wasn’t a cam, just an email.

But I am the one who is writing and so please allow me some poetic license, will you!

This mail has brought back the spring in my feet. Ah! The sky is once again deep blue, the grass is that much greener and life is on a roll.

Think of the joy on Rahman’s face when he held the Oscar.

The eternal joy of being a writer. The captain of a pirated ship is being asked to recount his tales of heroics. Feel the bliss.


And so dear readers, tomorrow with a bow and a flourish , I present with the part two of my best seller, My Corporate Memories – Back Bone of the company - HR.
( needless to say And my pioneer leadership in handling it. )

and oh! there was this mail from some professor from some harvard or something. maybe i can print it some day. today its just the nightingale singing!

As they say leaders are not made; they are born.

Like Me and ………………… you know who.


( Guys, thanks a lot for all your great mails. I am truly honored. Please keep them coming!)