Archive for the ‘Murthy Angadi’ Category

What Master Murty should tell Narayana Murthy

10 June 2014

Vinaashakaale vipareetha buddhi pretty much explains the decision of the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka to send out legal notices to three newspapers, seeking legal damages of Rs 2,000 crore (that is a little less than a third of Nandan Nilekani‘s net declared wealth of Rs 7,700 crore), “for loss of reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles” in the said publications, presumably following the executive meltdown following N.R. Narayana Murthy‘s return to bossmanship.

Hopefully, the laundry list of impugned articles that have caused Rs 2,000 crore of damages, does not include this spoof letter, from one “R. Murty” to Dr D, published in Panache, the newly launched Friday supplement of The Economic Times.


Respected Dr D:

for loss and reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles

Read more at:


I am a good son. I did what was expected of any South Indian Brahmin boy. I stood first in class (to nobody’s surprise) and I learnt the subtleties of the pre-Trinity and post-Trinity composers of Carnatic music by the time I was 10. I went to Cornell to pursue my degree, to MIT for my master’s and then to Harvard. Aced all of them. Didn’t even have to try.

I worked at Microsoft, which I would probably have headed if I weren’t called back, and I shall have more to say about that later.

I married the daughter and heiress of the TVS family (she’s a hottie). Can a son be more perfect than I have been? So far so good, and you must remember that I was not yet 30 before all of this happened. Then the fall. All right, not so much a catastrophe, but certainly a diversion from all of the world-conquering and giant-killing I had done after leaving Bengaluru in my teens.

My father returned to his old firm, ostensibly because it was in trouble, but, some whispered, because he was also at a loose end. I don’t want to say which is truer, but the fact is that he did return to take charge of something that he had given up. And he took me with him. He did not really ask me, so much as inform me. “Son, let’s set this thing right together.” I was made his assistant. Seriously? I thought.

What the heck kind of job is that for someone of my skills and background? Set up meetings and get the coffee? Nonetheless, I reported for work and have endured the drudgery of working with and reporting to my father.

I am bored out of my brilliant skull.

I want to head Microsoft and Apple and want to run start-ups that take on Google and Facebook. But, I’m managing this gigantic call centre instead. Not even managing it, mind you, merely drawing up timetables for the old man to do it. I don’t know what else I’m expected to do. It’s been a full year now and there seems to be no end in sight. How do I tell dad that I’ve had enough?

R Murty executive assistant to the chairman, Infosys


Dear Rohan,

I feel your pain. Here are five ways to get your father to let you go:

1) Show up for work on Friday in your Speedos. 2) Interrupt his speech at the AGM with the question: “Why did you come back, dad?” 3) Include slides of your family holidays (dad in his shorts!) in his next PPT presentation to the Americans. 4) Repeat everything he says at board meetings. 5) Send out from his ID a message to all employees on the dos and don’ts of topless sunbathing.

I hope this helps. If it doesn’t, be strong. Go to your mom.

Dr D


Text: courtesy The Economic Times

Also read: Is Infosys becoming Narayana Murthy‘s property?

One question I’m dying to ask Nandan Nilekani

10 March 2014

Like Arvind Kejriwal overshadowed Anna Hazare leaving the old man suitably stumped and stupefied, Infosys co-founder Nandan Nilekani has taken a giant leap into electoral politics that should leave his former colleague, N.R. Narayana Murthy, moaning in his majjige-huli.

By joining the Congress a day after he was named the party’s candidate from Bangalore South, Nilekani has put his political money where his voluble mouth is, a far cry from Murthy, who after aiming to be the President of India, said he was happy to be India’s ambassador to the US, before finally returning to his parent—and sneaking in his son Rohan Murthy in a fit of meritocracy.

But parachuting in politics is the easy part, especially if you have the ear of Sonia Gandhi and the earpiece of Rahul Gandhi. The difficult part is landing, and in a few weeks from now, Bangalore South will show (and Nilekani will learn) if the “urban, educated, literate, middle-class” truly wants change, or if it is happy with Ananth Kumar.

On his YouTube channel, paid twitter messages, and super-soft interviews with business correspondents whom he courted in his previous avatar, Nilekani paints himself as a son of the soil, being born to a Minerva Mills employee, in Vani Vilas hospital, who lived in BTM layout, etc.

He even tries to speaks in Kannada.

But there is plenty Bangaloreans do not know of Nilekani. So, what is the one question you are dying to ask the Bangalore South candidate?

Like, have his number-crunchers already computed the victory (or defeat) margin on their computers? Like, will he run away, as NRN did from the Bangalore international airport project, at the first hint of criticism? Like, all Congressmen, does he too think Rahul Gandhi is god’s gift to Indian politics?

Like, does he see Rohini, Nihar or Janhavi taking over from him, should he win, in the best traditions of the Congress?

Also read: Not yet an MP, could Nandan become PM?

Can Nandan Nilekani win from Bangalore South?

Dear Nandan, quit Infosys, join politics, start a party

Nandan Nilekani: the six things that changed India

CHURUMURI POLL: Has Nilekani trounced NRN?

MUST READ: 12 things no one is telling us about namma Nandu

Nandan Nilekani: The five steps to success

Not yet MP, could Nandan Nilekani become PM?

11 December 2013

On December 8, as the results of the assembly elections in the four States showed that opinion polls are not always wrong, and as the clamour for clarity on the Congress’s “prime ministerial candidate” a la the BJP grew in overheated TV studios, Congress president Sonia Gandhi said:

“I think people need not worry. At the opportune time, the name of the PM candidate… the name of him will be announced.”

Despite the ungrammatical awkwardness of “him”, the invocation of the male gender in her response triggered instant speculation. Was it going to be son Rahul Gandhi, or could it finance minister P. Chidambaram, or could it be a totally new face?

The Times of India, which broke the news in September that former Infosys man and UID chief Nandan Nilekani was being thought of as a potential Congress candidate from Bangalore South, now reports that Nilekani could be Sonia Gandhi’s “him” with a boiler-plate denial.

When TOI called him, Nilekani’s immediate and only reaction was, “Complete rubbish. This must be a figment of someone’s over-active imagination.”

Obviously, Nilekani’s candidature is predicated on several imponderables. That Rahul Gandhi may not want the top job, should he by a stroke of miracle become eligible for it. That other potential candidates in the Congress will quietly acquiesce should Nilekani’s name come up. Etcetera.

But the Congress moves in mysterious ways, often with some fingers of the left hand not knowing what the other fingers of the same left hand are doing.

In an interview with Shekhar Gupta, editor-in-chief of The Indian Express, for NDTV’s walk the talk programme, Karnataka chief minister Siddaramaiah takes a few questions on Nilekani’s predicted candidature. The responses are mighty revealing.

Is Nandan Nilekani going to contest one of the three Bangalore seats?

He has not discussed this with me, but it is news which has appeared… Don’t know whether he is contesting or not.

Do you think it is a good idea if he contests ? Will you be happy?

I don’t know because I have not discussed it with him. And he has also not discussed it with me. About 15 days back we met, but he did not discuss it with me.

As a friend, will you advise him to contest, or not?

It is for the Congress to decide. If he wants to contest, then the Congress has to take a decision now.

But will you recommend his name?

Let him say whether he is interested or not. I do not know whether he is interested.

That’s the problem with your party, everybody has to go and ask.

If he comes to the party, I will welcome him. But I don’t know whether he is ready to contest or not, he is willing to contest or not. But ultimately the high command has to decide.

So, not yet an MP, does Nandan Nilekani stand a chance of being PM?

Dream on.

Photograph: courtesy Namas Bhojani/ Forbes India

Also read: Can Nandan Nilekani win from Bangalore South?

Dear Nandan, quit Infosys, join politics, start a party

Nandan Nilekani: the six things that changed India

CHURUMURI POLL: Has Nilekani trounced NRN?

MUST READ: 12 things no one is telling us about namma Nandu

Designed for humans, inspired by nature?*

11 June 2012

It certainly does not look like the iPhone or Vertu, so which mobile phone brand does N.R. Narayana Murthy (net worth $1.7 billion) secretly swear by? Could it be Samsung Galaxy S III?

After receiving the Pride of Karnataka award from Round Table India in Bangalore on Friday, the Infosys chief mentor delicately punches the screen alongside the actress Ramya known in these parts as Divya Spandana.

* Search engine optimisation techniques shamelessly at work

Photograph: Karnataka Photo News

Why Adiga’s wants a COO for idli-vada-sambar

21 May 2012

Vasudev Adiga, whose parents started the legendary Brahmins’ Coffee Bar in Chamarajpet, wants to take the Adiga’s chain beyond Bangalore, take it beyond the South, and take it to the highways—and standardise South Indian vegetarian food like other fast food joints.

Saritha Rai throws light on his delectable plans in the Indian Express:

“For generations, instinct and experience have guided the cooks who prepare the dosa batter and sambar mix. But a determined Adiga wants his brand in India’s metros by 2018. He wants the Adiga’s sign to beckon travellers on major highways, though McDonald’s and KFC have already preceded him there.

“So, conquering his twin fears of losing control and of outsiders meddling in his business, Adiga has brought in venture capital (Infosys co-founder N.S. Raghavan’s VC firm New Silk Route has invested in the chain.)

“South India’s idli-vada-dosa restaurants have remained largely standalone or single-city brands. Their owners’ ambitions have been thwarted by the challenges of standardising recipes and sourcing ingredients. For example, the dosa batter, a ground mixture of dal and rice, depends on such variables as the quality of water, grinding time and fermenting time, besides the quality of the dal and rice….

“But all that cannot see him through the risks of expanding countrywide, acknowledges Adiga. He is hiring a chief operating officer to take charge of the expansion. The chain is corporatising on many others levels. Like the multinationals, all sourcing will be centralised, except for perishables like vegetables and milk.

“The back-end will be automated by bringing in industrial-style machines to chop vegetables and wash dishes. Just like the MNC chains, which get outside agencies to dice the potatoes just so, Adiga’s too wants to “outsource” such tasks.”

File photograph: The BJP’s Ananth Kumar dives into a plate of idli-sambaar in Basavanagudi while campaigning in the 2009 elections (Karnataka Photo News)

Read the full story: Sambar, extra tangy please

Also read: Real-estate sharks gobbling up our best eateries

A good dosa is like your first love: unsurpassable

What if Steve Jobs were prime minister of India?

6 October 2011

ARVIND SWAMINATHAN writes from San Francisco: India was a key detour in the earthly journey of Steve Jobs. He came to Benares in the early 1970s looking for what most hippies did back then: nirvana.

When he asked Kairolie Baba, a sadhu, on how to attain it, apparently all he got in return was a clean shave of his head on a hilltop.

From that experience, we can conjecture that Jobs probably learnt to always keep aiming higher, give people something they never knew they wanted, and to keep it all sufficiently mystical and secretive (and pricey).

Thus suitably enlightened, “Swami Steveananda” returned home to set up Apple Ashram, ushering in what he didn’t get in Benares—nirvana albeit of the digital kind—to millions of cultish disciples by marrying beauty with utility.

In the process, he transmogrified an almost-dead brand into becoming bigger than Google and vying with Exxon Mobil on the stock markets.

Maybe that was the easy part for someone who “lived at the intersection of technology and liberal arts“.

But what if Steve Jobs were in the position of Manmohan Singh?

After all, the Congress is in the shit-hole as Apple found itself in, when Jobs returned for his second stint. A once-good brand fallen in bad times with the younger opponents snapping at its heels, accompanied by diminishing public acceptance and street cred.

So, yes, what would Steve Jobs have done had he been in prime minister Manmohan Singh’s shoes?

1. Show who’s the boss: Steve Jobs was neither a hardware engineer nor a software programmer, nor certainly a manager, yet as its CEO and “technology leader” he was the face and voice of Apple, in good times and bad, and proudly so.

As Manmohan Singh, Jobs would have stood up and be counted, instead of blaming the demands of coalition politics or hinting at a plot to destabilise the polity for his plight. Or running for cover from colleagues (like Pranab Mukherjee, P. Chidambaram, Digvijay Singh or Mani Shankar Aiyar) constantly shooting him in the foot.

In doing so, Jobs would have cleared the negative perception among the people and within his party over who really runs the government: he, she or he.

2. Launch a killer product: Like a bad Indian restaurant which churns out everything from South Indian to North Indian food, with Chinese, Chaat, Continental and Mughlai thrown in, the Congress tries to do please all, in the process pleasing few or none.

As Manmohan Singh, Jobs would have come up with one killer idea or concept, kept it neat, simple and minimalistic so that the voters would understand, and kept making it better till he perfected it in time for the elections.

And that killer concept can’t be foreign policy. It’s got to be something like iPod and iPhone and iPad: something which the people can see, touch, feel and connect with. A bit like NREGA from UPA-I.

He could even call it “i” something, “i” for Indira that is.

3. Make peace with the enemy: Here’s what they don’t teach you at Oxford and Cambridge (or at World Bank). If you are prime minister of India, there’s no point fighting with the people of India about how to deal with corruption when gigantic godzillas of scams are running amok.

Which is what Singh’s buffoons like Kapil Sibal, P. Chidambaram, Manish Tiwari, Renuka Chowdhury et al are doing vis-a-vis the Lok Pal bill nightly on television.

As Manmohan Singh, Jobs who didn’t go to Oxford or Cambridge would have clearly identified the enemy—which is corruption—and made peace with those who would like it vanquished—which is the people—and laid out a road map for Parliament to pass it, without sending the signal that the Congress somehow has a vested interest in protecting the crooked and the corrupt.

4. Talk to us: Whether he had good news to convey or bad, whether he was in great shape or not, Steve Jobs stood up on stage in his trademark black turtle neck pullover and blue jeans to deliver the message.

As Manmohan Singh, Jobs would have capitalised on his honesty and integrity to come clean, to clarify, to tell it like it is, instead of allowing those the people distrust and dislike (see shortlists above) to further tie his government in knots.

As Singh, Jobs would have shown plenty of passion, and made one stunning speech or given a great interview instead of hiding behind the anodyne speeches of his media advisors, delivered deadpan like a post-lunch lecture at Delhi school of economics.

Also read: 3 lessons from the life and times of Steve Jobs

:Amazon kindles a fire in a small Apple harem

It isn’t so easy to woo an iPhone4 user, sister

Adolf Hitler and the rise and fall of iPad

An Apple a day keeps Steve Jobs away from us

What if Microsoft, not Apple, had made iPod

11 similarities betwen Apple and Rajnikant

3 lessons from the life and times of Steve Jobs

6 October 2011

Steve Jobs, the college dropout whose genius turned daunting technology into stylish art, changing the way the world works, lives, thinks and plays, has passed away after a battle with cancer at the age of 56.

In 2005, Jobs delivered a standout commencement address at Stanford University:

“When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.”

“It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?”

“And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

Read the full text of the lecture: Steve Jobs

The Steve Jobs only I knew: Walter Mossberg

Read the obituaries: New York Times, CNET, WaPo, First Post, LBhat

Also read: Amazon kindles a fire in a small Apple harem

It isn’t so easy to woo an iPhone4 user, sister

Adolf Hitler and the rise and fall of iPad

An Apple a day keeps Steve Jobs away from us

What if Microsoft, not Apple, had made iPod

11 similarities betwen Apple and Rajnikant

CHURUMURI POLL: Is Infosys a ‘body shop’?

5 October 2011

The supermarket author turned columnist Chetan Bhagat has hit Infosys where it hurts most by calling the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka a “bodyshopping” company, in response to N.R. Narayana Murthy‘s comments on the quality of engineers being churned out by the IITs.

“It is ironic when someone who runs a body shopping company and calls it hi-tech, makes sweeping comments on the quality of IIT students,” Bhagat wrote on his Twitter account.

Narayana Murthy, a graduate from India’s first private engineering college, the National Institute of Engineering (NIE), Mysore, had said earlier that 75% of modern BEs were unemployable. Others like Tata Steel boss B.Muthuraman and enviroment minister Jairam Ramesh have made similar comments on IITs before to little damage.

But it is Bhagat’s blanket branding of Infosys, which has assiduously cultivated its image as an emblem of hi-tech India, as a bodyshopping company—id est putting cheap Indian bums on seats for crackling American dollars by twisting visa rules—with all its attendant stigma that will surely rankle.

So, is Infosys what Chetan Bhagat says it is or is it unfair to the contributions of Murthy and Infosys? If Infosys is a body shopper, where does that leave other Indian IT companies? Is it OK if Infosys is a body shopping company, considering the difference is has made to the lives of thousands of young Indians and their families?

Is Chetan Bhagat right in labelling Infosys a “body shopping company”, or will Infosys be well within its rights to get its awesome legal and PR machinery whirring into action?

Also read: Why Tata Steel (and others) won’t recruit IITians

Would India be heaven if all of us went to IIT?

To: Nandan Nilekani. From: American senators

‘Indian IT doesn’t benefit its own people’

If IT takes away Bangalore’s values, burn IT

Plus: Chetan Bhagat has a piece of advice for Lingayats

BCCI, Infosys, Anil Kumble & a silly PR exercise

15 June 2011

ARVIND SWAMINATHAN writes from Madras: You scratch my back and I will scratch yours, is India’s most famous sport, especially in the upper crust of society. And the country’s richest sporting body, BCCI, and the country’s second largest IT company, Infosys, have just shown how it is played, in full public glare.

Monday’s Times of India had a story that BCCI was in talks with Infy to prepare, hold your breath, “an exhaustive injury database” following the flurry of injuries to its top players—Virender Sehwag, Gautam Gambhir, Zaheer Khan, S. Sreesanth—who have all skipped the ongoing West Indies tour because of various aches, pains and niggles.

According to the report, former India captain, KSCA president and NCA chairman, Anil Kumble, was in touch with Infosys to develop a software for injury management of players.

“But the talks are informal and at a very preliminary stage,” said BCCI chief administrative officer Ratnakar Shetty. “We have been using the infrastructure of Infosys like their ground at Mysore on a regular basis.”

Reading the report, the first thought that crossed my mind was: who first scratched whose back first? And who is deriving more pleasure out of the experience?

Infosys or BCCI?

Think about it.

Indian cricket for all its dhoom-dhamaka is still a stiflingly small sport. The number of international players, and the number of domestic players seeking to gradaute to the international level, is small. And to tabulate their injuries, you need Infosys, when a coach in shorts with a spreadsheet can do the job?

And what about Infosys?

The $7 billion company refrains from getting into the product-making zone, doesn’t make big mergers or acquisitions that will take it to the next level, but is happy to be doing silly odd jobs that a 20-year-old with a 486 could be doing after class-hours?

Today’s Hindustan Times hits the nail on the head by calling the BCCI-Infosys what it is: a silly PR exercise. Reason: sports clubs around the world have long used software to spot talent, plot diet plans, record medical data, and track players from the junior to professional levels.

HT says Brentford FC, a lower-division English football club, asked a software developer called PlayersElite to come up with the required software to manage its players.

“It cost £5,000 (approximately Rs 3.5 lakh) to develop the software, and requires a further £400 (Rs 30,000) per month to maintain it,” says its head of youth recruitment, Shaun O’Connor.

But to see BCCI, Infosys and Anil Kumble in this tech tango—as if they are sending a man to the man—offers a sobering insight into both Indian sport and Indian business. Why haven’t we heard of Cisco or Microsoft or Sun Microsystems doing likewise with NBA or World Series or whatever?

Because it is not rocket science, Sherlock.

All BCCI needs to understand why its players are falling like flies is to look at its own timetable and an exhausting  circus called the Indian Premier League (IPL). But why would BCCI or Anil Kumble cut off their own legs, when one runs the IPL and the other advises the Royal Challengers (RCB)?

OK, this is nitpicking.

Maybe Kumble as the new KSCA president wants to build sport-industry relationships, with the “future” in mind. Well then, BCCI doesn’t even have a website of its own. Maybe, they should also ask N.R. Narayana Murthy & Co to help them design a website while they are working on “an exhaustive injury database”.

It will be total paisa vasool.


Photograph: Anil Kumble with wife Chethana arrives for the wedding reception of Infosys chief mentor N.R. Narayana Murthy‘s son Rohan Murthy, who married Lakshmi Venu of the TVS family at the Leela Palace in Bangalore on Sunday, June 12 (Karnataka Photo News)

Also read: Why don’t we hear of IT excelling in sport?

Biggest. Largest. Highest. Mostest. Anywhere.

BCCI & Infosys: Made for each other in Mysore

Questions for Anil Kumble & Javagal Srinath

‘Mediocrity is fast becoming a way of life in India’

7 January 2011

The “India Story” is a narrative in numbers.

GDP growth rates, profits after tax, auto sales spurts, price per square foot, cellphone penetration etc, are all coolly and conveniently flung around to show that India is growing, shining, booming.

Yes, but.

Is the DNA of India changing for the better in the process?

Are we adding to our civilisational wellspring, or are we getting too caught up with the here and now? In our thirst for the material and the superficial, have we squandered and sacrificed the intellectual and the spiritual?

Chintamani Nagesha Ramachandra Rao, the former director of the Indian Institute of Science, has not been afraid to puncture the hype and hyperbole surrounding IT in the past.

Now chairman of the scientific advisory council to the prime minister, Prof C.N.R. Rao said in Mysore yesterday:

“India’s contribution to the top one per cent of the intellectual and scientific output is negligible. Though the country is progressing economically, it is declining intellectually and spiritually.

“The 21 century may belong to Asia, but India’s contribution is not significant. China and South Korea have leapfrogged over us on various indices including education and science and technology.

“In India, mediocrity is a way of life and people have learnt to accept it as such.”

Photograph: courtesy The Hindu

Also read: ‘If IT takes away Bangalore’s values, burn IT’

‘Would India be heaven if we all went into IT?’

Are ‘shining’ Indians supersensitive to criticism?

Pssst… just what are we good at, as a nation?

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world

5 January 2010

PRITAM SENGUPTA writes from New Delhi: At the outset, let me state three things loudly and clearly before the bricks start landing.

1) All things considered, the honesty and integrity of prime minister Manmohan Singh and his family is beyond debate.

2) Some things considered, the reputation of Infosys as a practitioner of “best practices” is well earned.

3) Whatever we might argue, Amartya Sen is one of the glittering stars on our intellectual firmament.

That said, we have to ask if either or all three of them have covered themselves with glory with Professor Upinder Singh of Delhi University being honoured with the inaugural Infosys Prize in social sciences “in recognition of her contributions as an outstanding historian of ancient and early medieval Indian history.”

The booty: a cash award of Rs 25 lakh, a 22 carat gold medallion, and a citation.

The catch: Upinder Singh happens to be Manmohan Singh’s daughter.


The academic qualifications of Upinder Singh (an MA and MPhil in history from Delhi University, and a PhD from Canada for an epigraphic study of kings, brahamanas and temples in Orissa) are not in question. Nor are her professional accomplishments: a 2008 history of India from the stone age to the 12th century.

Her commitment to free speech is well known: she has challenged the Marxist view of Indian history and challenged right-wing fundamentalists who questioned her inclusion of A.K. Ramanujan‘s Three Hundred Ramayanas for reading in the BA syllabus of Delhi University.

The question, plainly and simply, is of propriety.

# Should a major corporate be handing out huge cash prizes to the progeny of high political figures?

# Should they be accepting it so eagerly and happily, howsoever valid their claims to it?

# And because neither the media nor academia questions it, does it become all right in the eyes of the world?


The Infosys Prize is handed out by the Infosys Science Foundation which was set up with a corpus of Rs 45 crore  in February last year “to promote world-class research in the natural and social sciences in India”. (In addition, Infosys will contribute Rs 4.6 crore towards prize money and expenses every year.)

The prize is to be handed out in five categories: physical sciences, mathematical sciences, life sciences, social sciences and economics.

The Prize is “Infosys Technologies’ commitment to the country to promote and honour outstanding research efforts.” Its objective is to “elevate the prestiage of scientific research in India and to inspite young Indians to pursue a career in scientific research.”

As Infosys chief mentor N.R. Narayana Murthy puts it:

“India needs bright minds in academia, government, business, military and society to strive for global excellence. It is academia that provides bright minds for all other areas in any society. Research is an important dimension of excellence in academia. This award honours outstanding researchers who will make a difference to India’s future.”

While all that is commendable and unquestionable, the question remains: was only Upinder Singh worthy of this singular honour in this, the first year of the Infosys Prize?


Infosys, which has generated the buzz it sought to create by instituting and awarding the Prize in the presence of the prime minister, can wash its hands off and justly claim that it went by the jury’s recommendations.

The social sciences jury was chaired by the unimpeachable Amartya Sen. But were Prof Sen or his colleagues on the jury especially qualified to recognise Upinder Singh’s stellar qualifications?

The jury’s citation reads:

“Professor Upinder Singh is being recognized for her rich contributions as an outstanding historian of ancient and early medieval India. The depth and breadth of her scholarly research are matched by a rare ability to communicate her findings to a broad audience of students and intellectually curious non-specialists. She has been a pioneer in supplementing literary sources with an impressive array of archaeological, epigraphic and numismatic evidence to brilliantly reconstruct early Indian history. The vast chronological span of her scholarship stretches across millennia from the Paleolithic and Mesolithic ages to 1200 CE.

“Equally impressive is the geographical spread of her research, covering all the diverse regions of India. Attentive to regional distinctions, Singh is able to offer an overarching and subtle interpretation of Indian history and culture. As an innovative scholar who enables her readers to re-envision the idea of India, Singh is an ideal recipient of the inaugural Infosys Prize in Social Sciences – History.”

The social sciences jury comprised, besides economist Sen, two economists and three historians: Princeton economist Avinash Dixit and Berkeley economist Pranab Bardhan; Harvard historian Sugata Bose, Cambridge historian Christopher Alan Bayly and former Oxford historian Tapan Raychaudhuri.

Bose is a professor of modern economic, social and politial history; Bayly is a professor of imperial and naval history; and Chaudhuri is a former professor of Indian history and civilisation.

To paraphrase Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca: “Of all the historians in all the Universities of the world, we zeroed in on a professor of ancient and early medieval history who also happens to the prime minister’s daughter?”


It can be argued that Clean Mr Singh is not the sort who will be swayed by things like these. As a man of letters himself, he is likely to see the award for what it is: a gifted daughter earning her just desserts on her own merit.

It goes without saying that the prime minister and his daughter are adult individuals and professionals in their own right; it is wrong to club them or see them together beyond a point.

After all, Manmohan Singh’s youngest daughter, Amrit Singh, is a fine lawyer who has fought long and hard for the rights of inmates at Guantanamo Bay. If we do not see Amrit Singh’s efforts in conjunction with Manmohan Singh, why should we smell a rat in Upinder getting an award?

It can also be argued that neither Infosys, which is now the byword for Indian IT, nor its eminent social sciences jury has anything to gain by handing out a prize to his daughter.

So, why should we question it?

The answer is propriety.

Either you can spot it, or you don’t.


Photograph: (from left) Infosys chief mentor N.R. Narayana Murthy, Prof Amartya Sen, Vice President Hamid Ansari, Prof Upinder Singh, Infosys chief Krish Gopalakrishnan and Infosys director T.V. Mohandas Pai at glittering ceremony at the Taj Palace hotel in New Delhi on 4 January 2009.

Think local, act global? Or think global, act local?

28 November 2009

Stories of employees of call centres and outsourcing companies in Bangalore working on major Indian holidays just so that their company’s commitments to clients are met, makes news every now and then.

Now, Infosys Technologies, which got into a major jam with the Phaneesh Murthy scandal, has got into yet another nice, little row in the United States, with an Indian-born American citizen suing the company for….

For mocking her observance of American holidays like Thanksgiving and refusing to pay her overtime.

In her lawsuit, Promila Awasthi, a Silicon Valley consultant with Infosys’ Fremont (Califoria) office, paints a picture of a culturally insensitive organisation where she had to work in “intolerable” conditions from February to November 2008.

NBC quotes from the lawsuit:

“Infosys management routinely disparaged Americans, including Mrs Awasthi, as not having “family values,” and stated that layoffs in America are good because the jobs will be outsourced.

“Infosys management ridiculed Mrs. Awasthi for celebrating the American holiday of Thanksgiving, telling her that she should not celebrate Thanksgiving because she is Indian, and that therefore she must work on Thanksgiving Day.

“Infosys management ridiculed Mrs. Awasthi’s children for celebrating Thanksgiving, and called them “ABCD” short for “American-Born Confused Desi,” and “IBCD” short for “Indian-Born Confused Desi,” insulting terms used to criticize people of Indian ancestry who are Americanized.

“Infosys management ridiculed Mrs. Awasthi for celebrating Christmas, saying that “we” do not celebrate Christmas, and that she should not celebrate Christmas. Infosys management repeatedly discussed the quality of Mrs. Awasthi’s work by explicitly commenting on their expectations for “a woman your age.”

Questions: Standard Operating Procedure of transnational companies? Sour grapes of a sacked employee hoping to strike it big?

Is it OK to give a “local” employee a holiday for a “local” festival but deny it to “non-locals”? Should an Indian company in Rome behave like a Roman or like an Indian company, with Indian values and Indian holidays?

Or, in the new age of outsourcing and offshoring and all that, should companies have the luxury of an elastic policy cutting across cultures?

Link via Anamika Krishnan

Also read: Sepia Mutiny: No turkey for you

How come media did not spot the Satyam fraud?

8 January 2009

A requiem for Indian business journalism, in the delightfully breathless style of Juan Antonio Giner, founder-director, Innovation International Media:

‘Satyam’, meaning truth.

India’s fourth largest software services provider. The darling of Hyderabad.

An outsourcing company with 53,000 employees that serviced 185 of the Fortune 500 companies in 66 countries.

A company which now says 50.4 billion rupees of the 53.6 billion rupees in cash and bank loans that it listed in assets for its second quarter, which ended in September, were nonexistent.

India’s biggest corporate fraud ever.

Hell, India’s biggest fraud ever: customers, clients, shareholders, employees, families down in the dumps.

India’s Enron.

We have heard all the big questions being asked. So far.

How come the analysts did not know?

How come the auditors did not know?

How come the regulators did not know?

How come the directors did not know?

How come the bankers did not know?

Yes. But where is the other question?

How come the media did not know?


How come the English newspapers did not know?

# Not Deccan Chronicle, not The Hindu, not The New Indian Express, not The Times of India.

# Not The Economic Times, not Business Line, not Financial Chronicle, not Business Standard, not Financial Express.

How come the foreign newspapers did not know?

# Not New York Times, not Wall Street Journal, not Financial Times.

How come the Telugu dailies did not know?

# Not Eenadu, not Andhra Jyoti, not Andhra Prabha, not Saakshi.

How come the general interest magazines did not know?

# Not India Today, not Outlook, not The Week.

How come the business magazines did not know?

# Not Business Today, not Business World, not Outlook Business.

How come the English news channels did not know?

# Not NDTV, not CNN-IBN, not Times Now, not Doordarshan News.

How come the business channels did not know?

# Not CNBC, not NDTV Profit, not UTVi.

How come the Telugu channels did not know?

# Not ETV, not ETV2, Not Gemini, not Maa TV, not TV9, not TV5, not Doordarshan

So many media vehicles, but so little light on the infotech highway yet so much noise.

But who is asking the questions?

Is journalism that doesn’t shed light journalism?

Or puff?

Or PR?

Or Advertising?

Also read: Is this what they really teach at Harvard Business School?

Is Satyam alone in creative accounting scam?

New Year card Ramalinga Raju did not respond to

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #9

29 September 2007

Meanwhile, at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, also known as Murthy Angadi, proof, as if any further proof were required, that the only lesson that sowcarru and his shishyas have learnt from history is that only a fool would learn from history. And that when you are driven by values, you can sometimes be driven to nuts, but, hey, it’s their stretch limo, and it’s only their entrepreneurial spirit that got them a car this long.

A week ago, some American girakis were visiting the Angadi to inspect the maal, and the maalwadis, and as usual the branch manager pulled out all the stops after MD 3.1415….

The Mexican hullu got an extra mug of Cauvery jol (re-bicycled water? Chal foot!), very green torana was tied all over, and as if working on the worst-case scenario that one of the girakis may actually be visually challenged, “Welcome” banners were strung up everywhere, so that there was no way even an ophthalmic problem would prevent them from knowing that their “check” book entries were wanted in the Angadi‘s passbooks.

So far so cute.

After all, there are only 10 kinds of people in the world: those who know binary and those who don’t.

Anyway, on the day the America girakis were being taken around the Angadi, “The Writer” (binary) was busy working when somebody (non-binary) suddenly pulled out the Indian national flag that “The Writer” (binary) had proudly put up on the desk. Clearly, sowcar-ru‘s shisyas (non-binary) were working extra-hard to “create an environment of warmth for our customers and prospects”.

Talking of which, the jhanda had been distributed by the branch manager’s mestri (non-binary) and his cohorts (non-binary) in the spirit of the agenda of “continuing the spirit of enjoying work” on Independence Day.

So, patriotism in the Angadi lasted exactly one month and six days.

(Related Hyperlink Without a Hyperlink: Since we, “the blessed” must all work “harder and smarter”, to “free India from poverty”, August 15 was a working day for Angadi employees serving and servicing American girakis and July 4 was a holiday.)

Anyway, to cut a short story long, the moment “The Writer” (binary) found his (Indian) national flag removed, he turned around to find a team-mate (Indian) standing behind him, with a bunch of flags (Indian) in his hand which too had been similarly removed. He pointed his finger towards the mestri and his men (Indian).

Mestri & His Men felt it would not be appropriate to display Indian flags when foreign clients were visiting.

One of the ‘leaders’ (binary) said in a loud voice to one of the writers (binary):

“Keep the patriotism to yourself! I know more than you. Wait for these two days and you can put those flags back again!!”

But “The Writer” did not remove his flag.

And, The Other Writers too put the flags back on their desks once the “Gangmen” left. But the hard-earned patriotism was short lived. The writers returned to their desks in the morning only to find the flags missing.

Stored in the lockers? Discarded in the dustbin? Shredded in the shredder? Keep betting.

Which only left The Writers with three conclusions to reach: either sowcar-ru‘s shisyas aren’t aware of the guru‘s earlier taapatregalu or that of others like Aamir Khan. Or sowcar-ru‘s scandal hasn’t taught the mestris anything. Or the sowcar-ru has been reading too many popular physics and mathematics books in his spare time to bother with something so umbilical and fundamental.

Disclaimer: All sowcar-ru, girakis and mestris mentioned in Murthy Angadi (no branches) are powered by the intellect of the imagination of a figment driven by values. 3.14159, of course, is Pi, (pronounced Pai) which is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter in Euclidean geometry.

The national anthem, the national flag, the national animal, the national bird are, well, the untrade-able marks of the nation (Indian). Jol is an anagram of J-Lo since it’s Mexican hullu (wink, wink). Any resemblance to characters living, dying or suing, Indian, Greek or Mexican, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Photograph: Courtesy Brain Chimney

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #8

14 March 2007

Meanwhile, at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, also known as Murthy Angadi, Sowcar-ru‘s main trip in life these days—to lecture the world on how everything in life, including and beyond the country, can be run like Murthy Angadi—is placing sikkapatte pressure on his chelas, chamchas, and cheddi dosts.

It’s one thing for sowcar-ru to kuyyi the proverbial piteel in his post-1993 American accent on values and ethos and standards in the air-conditioned comfort of the television studios. But it’s quite another to implement it on the ground, somewhere between Northwest Hebbal and Southwest Hootagalli.

In the vast food court that has sprung up to serve the girakis who throng Murthy Angadi, there are a dozen vendors, selling everything from juices, ice-creams, coffee, and pizzas, to South Indian, Punjabi, Andhra and Mughlai meals. And some of them are paying a very high price for the high-falutin’ standards.

If a vendor is found serving food without gloves, the Angadi chappies slap an on-the-spot fine of Rs 1,000. No shoes? Rs 1,500. No apron? Rs 5,000. So much so that one vendor paid up as much as Rs 40,000 in fines last month. The only consolation is a voucher that comes in the name of the foundation run by sowcaru-ru‘s hendoru.

No one knows on what basis the fines are fixed, and the standard answer to all queries is, “Ask MD 3.14159.” Only one vendor has been spared the ad-hoc fines, but that’s because he enjoys Prince Charles‘ patronage.

Recently, one vendor’s staff was found serving without an apron. A fine of Rs 5,000 was promptly lagao-ed. Except that the apron had been misplaced by the in-house laundry. Matlab, it was the Angadi at fault. Only a stern refusal by the vendor to not pay a fine for a goofup that she wasn’t reponsible convinced the chappies to relent.

Otherwise, the vendors live in fear of the midnight knock.

Disclaimer: All hendors and vendors mentioned in Murthy Angadi are the figment of a colourful imagination. Any resemblance to characters alive or dead or somewhere in between is entirely coincidental and unintentional to the extent that libel laws permit. (3.14159, of course, is the value of Pi, and has been for a couple of thousand years, if not more.)

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #7

12 February 2007

Security has been tightened to such an extent at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka following the periodic “threats” to it, allegedly revealed by the narco-analysis of Lashkar-e-Toiba and other assorted militants, that not even a fly of the flying kind can now enter the Angadi without filling in forms in quadruplicate.

And so it was when a Neeli Baana courier arrived at the gate in Bangalore some time ago. The man was carrying credit cards to be delivered to employees of the Angadi.

The courier pleaded with the security to let him in to personally hand-deliver the cards. After all, if the cards ended up in the wrong hands, it could result in the wrong credit limits being wiped out.

“No,” said the clip-board nazis, quoting charlie. “MD has said no one is to be allowed in.”

The courier made one final request and when that too was turned down brusquely, he returned to his office and sent the cards back on their return journey, citing code 074.

Soon, all hell broke loose.

One of the cards—a Citibank Goldcard—was to have been delivered to sowcar-ru. High officials of the Neeli-Baana courier company jumped into the frame to retrieve the card from the airport where it was waiting to be despatched to the card issuing bank.

Finally, all was well that ended well. The card was recovered and sent across to Pandu.

Disclaimer: All personalities and companies mentioned in Murthy Angadi are fictitious and the figment of a newly idle mind that has vacated a devil’s workshop. Any resemblance to characters, living or dead or somewhere in between, is coincidental and unintentional if not entirely honourable. Citibank is the registered trademark of Citibank (South Dakota), NA. Get 5% cash back on air and rail tickets with Citibank Cash Back Gold Card. Gold Cards are also available without this offer.

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #6

12 May 2006

Meanwhile, India’s most famous investigative journalist reports to churumuri that the malikaru of the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka also known as Murthy Angadi is being presented to very swish audiences in Switzerland as the man who refused the Presidentship of India.

“Twice this has happened in my own presence,” reports our unimpeachable source in the Alps, “and both times sowcar-ru has failed to say illa guru.” In other words, there has been no denial that the man who runs a small Angadi has never come within striking distance of Rashtrapati Bhavan.

Since churumuri, as a professional media organisation, believes in triple-checking what has already been double-checked, we spoke to some very high-ranking people in Delhi, including an editor who says he is always asked how close he is to the PM. He too denies the simple shopkeeper was ever in the running to be the C-in-C.

Meanwhile, Ramachandra, the tall fellow whom sowcar-ru often calls upon to pull out stuff from the loft, says sowcar-ru will be doubly disappointed soon when a well-known columnist will soon call Amartya Sen as the man who should be the next President of the country.

Disclaimer: All the characters and situations mentioned in ‘Look, what’s happening in Murthy Angadi‘ are the pigment of the writer’s coloured imagination. Any resemblance to journalists, columnists or editors, alive or nitpicking, is the unfortunate result of reading far too many papers and magazines when we should have been going to Aptech or NIIT.

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #5

5 May 2006

Meanwhile, at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, also known as Murthy Angadi, there was an embarrassing incident involving sowcar-ru recently.

Sowcar-ru, who lectures anybody who cycles by of the angadi‘s adherence to corporate governance, SEI-Level Five, Sigma Six and all that, was felled by a major bout of food poisoning when he was visiting the pettige angadi in Mysore.

Since this happened in the presence of fair-skinned dealers suppliers, from whom sowcar-ru picks up different kinds of accents during different times of the year, the embarrassment was all the more acute.

The head-hunters were called in to hunt heads of a different kind and they zeroed in on the water supplied by “the local government” which they all agreed does not believe in corporate governance, SEI-Level Five or Sigma Six.

Immediately, a firman went out that henceforth only mineral water is to be used in Murthy Angadi, especially when sowcar-ru is around.

This was done, but soon there was another bout of food poisoning, this time because of the mineral water whose company claimed it practised in corporate governance, SE Level Five or Sigma Six but in effect did not.

Now, the head-hunters have bought hundreds of kilos of chlorine tablets from companies which they hope and pray believe in corporate governance, SEI Level Five and/or Sigma Six. The standing order is that these should be used whereever water is used in Murthy Angadi (except where the sowcar-ru and girakis sit, of course).

No further bouts of food poisoning have since been reported but the major casualty are the restaurants, juice centres and other kiosks located in the umbrella of Murthy Angadi. The chefs and their clients and connoisseurs are complaining that everything from Ghas ghase payasa to Chicken 24X7X365 has a distinct taste of chlorine.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations mentioned in Look, What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi are completely kalpanik. Any resemblance to angadis and sowcar-ru of similar surnames and accents is entirely magical and miraculous. (All the products mentioned here including ghas ghase payasa are the registered trademarks of our respective ajjis. All wrongs reversed.)

Look, What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi #4

26 April 2006

Meanwhile, at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, also known as Murthy Angadi, there has been a major reshuffle.

Kis Baay Dasa, the pattinga who used to sit at the “cash”, has been told by Chandan, sowcarara hendthi oorina huduga, to get some innocent boys from his village to join the angadi, because with so many foreign malls and maliges opening, not too many are excited to join Murthy Angadi.

Dasa is now officially a director, but the other boys and girls in Murthy Angadi do not know whether this is a promotion or a demotion.

After all, there were never any rumours that he had nung-ed any money. And, after all, even sowcar-ru was happy when he was buying so many sites that many people were beginning to think of the Angadi as a real estate agency.

Those who hate Dasa say he has been taken away from “cash” because he was talking too much and beginning to interfere in everything. Yem. Aa. Chandramma who had the distinction of recruiting Murthy Angadi’s first employee, apparently left because she couldn’t stand Dasa’s interference any longer.

But those who love Kis Baay Dasa, and that includes himself and his dear calculator, say this is what he had been wanting all along, to be a director of the Angadi, not just another employee. In fact, they say, he engineered Yem. Aa. Chandramma’s exit so that he could become director. Whatever.

Yem. Aa. Chandramma’s husband has been telling all those who will listen that this is Chandan’s masterstroke because the “travels fellow” was getting too much publicity although he was not one of the founders of the Angadi.

But clearly the shift has begun to hurt.

Kis Baay Dasa is known to have called up a reporter of the Marwadi Patrike to complain about a story which suggested that he had been kicked upstairs.

Disclaimer: All the characters and situations mentioned in ‘Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi are completely kalpanik. Any resemblance to kirana or gharana stores, present or past, is completely coincidental and unintentional because, you see, there is more than one Murthy in every Halli.

When Miss Karnataka tried to be Miss World

19 April 2006

P.M. VIJENDRA RAO writes: I am from a Bangalore which was Mysore-ish. I grew up in Shankarapuram. Ranga Rao Road was where we lived. To this day I don't know who this illustrious man was–so much for my inquisitiveness. Nor did anybody tell me about him–perhaps out of the same disdain for history for which we Indians have quite a name.

This smudging of history from memory was aptly reflected in the way the name of Ranga Rao, etched in Kannada on an unpolished slab of granite, was vandalised every time the civic staff painted the cornerstone afresh.

All that it needed was to disfigure the letter ga into ra, coronate the un (0) to make it also ra and dot the navel of all five ra's—three original, two malformed.

The new name would thus be ta ta ta taav tasthe.

Poor Ranga Rao forever remained unimmunized to this syndrome of his name being literally blackened right in the middle of those rotund consonants.  

However, these are not the only black spots on the former beauty queen called Bangalore.

This former Miss Karnataka became greedy. She wanted to become Miss World. She went into overdrive, got silicon(e) breast implant done and started attracting global attention.

Money poured into Kempe Gowda town like the Vrishabhavati in spate. On the other hand, average Bangaloreans needed no bust augmentation, their chest swelled with pride. Not for long, as they developed congestion in the lungs.

Congestion that was fuelled by the automobiles that the newfound wealth brought in. This is the story of Bangalore in a nutshell–the shell of the peanut for which my part of Bangalore was known.

Gowda's Bangaloreans called it Kallekayi Parishe.

Murthy, the man who pioneered, by default, the automobile revolution in Bangalore, was primarily responsible for the Big Bull (that gives the name Basavanagudi to the famous locality I grew up in) to be obscured on the map of the city.

When realty enters the bullish phase (and remains there), Big Bull can only be worth the cheaper granite it is carved out of. A Gowda-Murthy spat, in which the Bangaloreans lost, and lost the memory of Kempe Gowda as well. 

To tell you, I am a rat. I don't say I foresaw Bangalore's doom and escaped from there, but the year of India's liberalization also liberated me from Bangalore.

During a chance visit to Mysore, my father's hometown, a couple of weeks earlier, I happened to watch the Lalitha Mahal Palace awash with moonlight.  I hadn't seen the palace before. Not even in daylight. I didn't know that a locality called Siddartha Layout (where I stayed in a friend's place for a day) was there in Mysore. I began to wish I had a job in Mysore.

I was literally and metaphorically moonstruck.  

I soon landed a new job and opted to come to Mysore. Had I continued in Bangalore, I would have gone the Bangalore way–completely crazy. 

But, Murthy's shadow is looming large on Mysore. I don't know why he won't let me live in peace.

Ranga Rao Road, it occurs to me as I travel back in time, has an oddity. Karnataka Sarvodaya Sangha, from where I got much of my khadi for the fanciful shirts I wore to college, had Keshava Kripa, the Bangalore head office of RSS, for neighbour.

The spirit of Gandhi and his nemesis exist together in harmony.

So, you may ask why not Murthy and I share Mysore peacefully. If I could do that, I might as well return to Bangalore. Perhaps not.

Mahishasurana Ooru itself is threatening to go the way of the monster. Orders for silicon(e) implants have been  placed. Mysore is becoming Bangalore-ish.

Would it make any sense then to talk of Bangalore and Mysore as two distinct entities?

The existential dilemma—iruvudo, biduvudo, e-oorinali—continues.

Time to look for a job in Mandya?

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #3

11 April 2006

A middle-level management type was waiting at the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, also known as Murthy Angadi, to take the lift to his third-floor office.

The middle-level management type had recently broken his leg and was finding it difficult to climb the stairs.

Suddenly, sowcar-ru materialised out of nowhere, also to take the lift.

“What are you doing young man?” sowcar-ru asked.

“Waiting for the lift, sowcar-re,” said the middle-level management type.

“Why? Can’t you take the stairs?” sowcar-ru asked.

“But, sir, my leg’s broken,” said the middle-level management type, “and the doctor’s advised me not to strain myself.”

“Young man,” speechified the sowcar-ru, “when I was your age and had a fracture in the leg, I always used to climb the stairs. Even if it was 10 floors up.”

Thus, the middle-level management type began his long, upward journey in the sanctimonious environs of Murthy Angadi.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations mentioned in ‘Look What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi’ are completely kalpanika. Any resemblance to characters, alive or tripping, is unintentional, coincidental and just one of those things that happen in life.

Look, What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi #2

6 April 2006

The tremendous response to the first episode of ‘Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi’ suggests just one thing. That there is enormous interest in the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, both within and outside the store.

Tens of insiders have now begun contacting churumuri to throw light. Among the most incredible mails we have received so far suggests that there is something cooking in the upstairs of Murthy Angadi.

Since churumuri doesn’t believe in slander, our lips are sealed. But this much we can hint: it involves something very much in the nature of the taapatre that felled the other Murthy in Murthy Angadi.

And it involves the same paalty who was sending ilu-ilu SMSes to an English magazine journalist resulting in her magazine doing a covery story on ‘Love in the Time of SMS’. You know that, don’t you?

Disclaimer: All characters and situations mentioned ‘Look What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi’ are completely kalpanika. Any resemblance to characters, alive or kicking, is unintentional, coincidental and just one of those things that happen in life.

Look, what’s happening at Murthy Angadi #1

4 April 2006

Churumuri, in the true tradition of good journalism, will keep an eagle-eye on affairs at the company that spares no effort to tell the world that it is the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka, hereinafter referred to as Murthy Angadi.

So, here goes.

The chaps serving orange juice at Murthy Angadi recently wanted to hike the price per cup from Rs 10 to Rs 11.

If you use the inflation factor that has been used to justify the Rs 25,000 hike in annual fees at the IIMs, a 10 per cent hike might (ought to) seem insignificant.

After all, most trainees at Murthy Angadi earn upwards of Rs 15,000 per month.

But the Facilities Chaps reportedly shot down the vendor’s demand for a hike. Worse, when the vendor did not take the hint and pipe down, they terminated the contract.

Here’s what will make a nice case-study at some IIM: The new orange juice vendor charges Rs 12 per cup.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations mentioned ‘Look What’s Happening at Murthy Angadi’ are wholly fictitious and the figment of the writer’s diminishing imagination. Any resemblance to characters, alive or kicking, is unintentional and coincidental.