Analyst...Till I Die!

Friday evenings are usually somber. But this one was unusual…atypically grave with a hint of perplexity and yawns as per taste. And when people started heading home at 6 pm, it simply brought a new, strange flavor to this already uncharacteristic evening. While my eyes were busy noticing the mass exodus and my mouth was expanding and contracting like a balloon, my brain was at it again - searching for answers to a one-sentence problem statement.

“A problem statement is the perfect example of how a childhood can go wrong due to parental pressure”, I thought. These problem statements are like foster children, typically adopted after a heated exchange in a high level business meeting, one where none of the parties involved are ready to take the blame for the procreation of the real child – which in most cases is a downward revenue trend. A mutual decision then shifts the focus onto this foster child, while the actual culprit child still continues to live a healthy life in-spite of a non-performing childhood. From this point on, the complexity forced onto the foster child just keeps on multiplying, until one day when all the confusion and pressure makes the child lose his focus, head in a totally unwarranted direction & search for answers of his own existence in the first place. That is when you as an analyst know that you and your business partner have screwed the analysis up…big time!

Another mail with a new set of problem statements strutted into my inbox. My right hand, in a quick reflex action, tried to move the cursor onto the mail so as to enable me to read it. But my brain acted like a road which has just seen a light drizzle of snow pass over it, thus making it slippery and hard to maneuver on. My right hand was not equipped with any ABS mechanism and so it skit across the outlook screen, tentatively at that, and came to a halt only after crashing into the ‘close’ button at the top right. For the second time in my life, I was proud of myself. The first time was about 15 minutes ago, when out of sheer nuisance I had called up a few friends and planned a Friday night out at a lounge bar. The third time was at the lounge bar when I killed the guilt of procrastinating a deliverable with a couple of Tequila shots. Another 2 Tequila shots, a couple of beer mugs & a large vodka later I was proud of myself for a fourth time – apparently for no particular reason. To make it a five-for, I puked on reaching home.

Morning brought with itself the realization of the impending doom, waiting for me in my inbox. Second thoughts, as usual, told me that today was a Saturday - read ‘two more days to Monday’. And, as always, I decided to let the blues remain an undisputed property of Monday.

I switched on the television and changed the channel to Aaj Tak. Another ‘Breaking News’ was creating sensation and out of sheer curiosity I decided to see what it was all about. In exactly 5 seconds I found out that they were going gung-ho about a supposed love affair between two contestants in the Indian Idol show. Thankfully, 10 years back, I had voted against my gut feeling of becoming a journalist. And about a year back, I had also chosen not to become ‘Aapka A.K’ by participating in Indian Idol. The ‘Breaking News’ definitely broke my patience.

I switched over to Star Cricket and started watching the highlights of the India-England test series. I saw Dhoni unleashing a barrage of fours & sixes and thought to myself, “Could I have done that?”. A career in cricket could have been possible if I hadn’t been frustrated with the high frequency of shoe damage as a result of pace bowling. A little bit of more talent and just a few kilograms less would have also helped.

As my thoughts declared an early retirement from the game, an ad about a ‘Dream Commentary Job’ with ESPN-Star Sports stole my attention. “Ah! Now that is a job to live for”, I said to myself. You just have to look at cricket all day long, comment on each ball that is being bowled, and at the end of the match analyze the day’s performances. “Analyze! Doesn’t that sound familiar?”, I thought. Even I look at data all day long, analyze high/low performances, catch trends, and attribute reasons to them. Then I just wait for another day when a new player comes into the equation and creates a new ballgame for me to analyze.

And suddenly I started thinking clearly, despite the hangover from last night. Yes, I could have dreamt of being or have been a singer, writer, cricketer, actor or a vegetable vendor for all you know. But, no matter what I did, I would have had to analyze myself or someone else on a daily basis, and take life decisions based on that analysis. In my case, I was getting paid for it too.

I knew that some day I might just die burning in a ‘Super-ANOVA’ explosion or be crushed under heavy ‘Factor Loadings’. In the worst case, I might be murdered by a really ‘Mean’ value. But all of it, I thought, was worth the excitement of identifying that small little trend crawling like a rattle snake in the data.

I pledged then, and I pledged with my heart. “I am gonna be an Analyst”, I screamed, “Analyst…till I die!”.

Ooooooooo...Happyyyyyyyy Friendship Dayyyyyyyyy!

He woke up palpitating. The alarm’s sound was intolerable. Even he was finding it difficult to digest that this was one of his most popular songs from way back when. At that time in history, everything was going as per plan. Movies, awards and the claim to Kishore’s throne, were all there for his taking. But now the era of a new nasal twang had dawned. And Kumar knew he had to reinvent himself to save what was left of his career. Sanu-da, as he is popularly referred to by his fraternity, decided to use this Friendship Day to patch up with some old “industry” buddies & get back to the singing ways. He had been working on this new style of singing which he hoped would differentiate his nasal twang from the one ruling the roost today. He called it the “Mishti” technique, because it involved putting a few drops of “Mishti Dohi” sugar-syrup in the nose before starting to sing. He believed he sounded sweeter by doing that.

Moving quickly, he dressed up & zipped to his car. He knew that unless he got some work today, the bank would not allow this car to be there with him for long. In a bid to buy more time, Sanu-da had insisted that he could perform for the bank employees without any fees. As the news of a possible ‘Sanu’ concert spread, some of the bank’s employees put in their papers & some others just went missing. Even the bank’s insurance company issued a statement citing “no obligation” in case Sanu-da performed & any major aural ailment broke out amongst the employees. This was when the bank decided to avoid attrition & casualties by just giving him an extra couple of months to pay back his loan.

Sanu-da parked his car outside HR’s house & walked to the gate gingerly. He looked at the door bell, took a deep breath and pressed it.

“Hooooooooooooooo…oooooooooooooooo…ooooooooooooooo”, cried the door bell. After a short wait, a guy came out dressed in a denim cap and leather jacket. For a moment, Sanu-da mistook him for HR. But then he realized that the guy didn’t have a stuble & was holding a stick instead of a mike in his right hand. “Must be the watchman”, he thought to himself.

“Is Himesh home?” Sanu-da questioned.

The watchman looked at him from head to toe and asked, “Who are you?”.

Sanu-da was used to fans screaming his name and thronging his house for autographs. He definitely wasn’t used to someone asking him who he was. Sanu-da knew that even if people forget his face, they could never forget his evergreen songs.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm….Tujheeee dekhaaaaaaaaaaaaa…to yehhhh jaaanaaa sanammmmmmmmm…pyaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr hota hai deewaanaaaaaaaaa sanammmmmmm…” Sanu-da hummed.

It worked. The watchman saw his past flash before his eyes, and heard all of Sanu-da’s songs passing by his ear. Needless to say, he fell on the ground, coincidentally at Sanu-da’s feet & went into a coma. Sanu-da reveled in the moment because he thought the watchman had realized the greatness of the man standing in front of him.

Sanu-da blessed the watchman and moved into the house. As soon as he entered the living room, he could hear some sounds, which made him stand back & notice. He could unmistakably attribute the sweetness of the sound to a nose which has become very famous over the past year. He followed the sound to its source & reached the balcony. To his surprise the sound was actually the siren of an ambulance parked next door. Another person in the vicinity had succumbed to a new form of AIDS – Aural Infection Deafening Syndrome.

Sanu-da left the balcony and moved into the adjacent room. He saw something…something that was arguably the most awaited & anticipated sight in the history of Indian cinema. HR was busy looking at himself in the mirror & combing his newly weaved hair. His hair was flowing like a wild river, splashing on the forehead, and from time to time revealing the bare surface beneath.

“Himesh?”.

HR turned around, saw Sanu-da standing there, and in a quick reflex action jumped towards his cap. Another dive, and a mike magically appeared in his hand.

“Sanu-da! How did you get in? I mean, what a pleasant surprise” HR said, trying to stand, & still trying to adjust his cap with one hand.

“Happy friendship day Himesh! And congratulation for all the success”

“Thank you Sanu-da and same to you.”

“Nice sarcasm Himesh. I never imagined one nasal singer would insult another. But then, times change!”

“Oh! I am sorry Sanu-da. I was just responding to your Friendship day wishes.”

“That’s all right Himesh. I am used to these things now. Let me get straight to the point. I need work. I need work desperately. I need work now. And I have come to you my friend, with hope that you would understand my twitch better than anyone else.”

“Sanu-da. I respect you a lot. But I really cannot offer you any songs right now. After the success of Aap ka Suroor, I have decided to act and give music in only 3 movies per year. I want to make my brand more exclusive. I hope you understand”

“I do understand Himesh. But I know for sure that you can help me. I am ready to do anything Himesh”

“Anything?” HR inquired.

“Anything!”, Sanu-da confirmed.

“All right then. You know how this industry works. You will have to make some ‘compromises’, if you know what I mean.”

“What? Compromise? What kind of compromise?”

“Well…haven’t you heard about the couch?”

“Himesh! Are you really serious? I thought you are one of the decent guys in the industry. Oh lord! What is happening to this world?”

“What is the big deal Sanu-da? I need to do this to make sure my rock-star image continues to dominate the music scene.”

“I don’t have a choice or a lot of time to ponder Himesh. If this is what I have to do to stay alive, I am ready. Let us go!”

“Wow! You are a brave man Sanu-da. Ill quickly go and get protection for you though. I don’t want unnecessary AIDS rumors to spread after this is over.”

“Whatever! Which room should I go to?”

“Just go down this hallway and take the last right. That’s my recording room. Be seated on the couch there. Ill join you in a few minutes. Needless to say, I am very excited”

“Huh…In the recording studio!” Sanu-da exclaimed. HR had already left the room. Sanu-da resigned to his fate and started walking to the studio. He reached the room, took off his shirt and pants and sat on the couch. He remembered all his popular hits and hummed them one last time on what he thought would be last day as a “pure” artist.

A little while later, HR ran into the room and in the next second came to a screeching halt on seeing Sanu-da in his bare essentials.

“What the hell are you doing Sanu-da?” HR screamed.

“Himesh! Stop acting and get this over with quickly.”

HR suddenly realized that Sanu-da had misunderstood the compromise.

“Oh no Sanu-da. This is not what I meant. This is not a casting couch. I call this the ‘Lasting Couch’. What you need to do is to just listen to all of my new compositions. If you remain conscious, retain your hearing ability and last till the end of the song, I will launch it in one of my movies. The lasting couch Sanu-da…the lasting couch!”

“The lasting couch! Why were you talking about protection and AIDS then?”

“Oh!”. HR took out a couple of ear buds from his pocket. “This is the protection I was talking about Sanu-da. I don’t want you to become deaf listening to my songs. Already many people in the locality have sued me because they contracted AIDS…Aural Infection Deafening Syndrome…listening to my songs. That is it.”

“What? Oh I am sorry Himesh. I thought…never mind.”

Sanu-da dressed up quickly. “You are a true nasal friend Himesh. Give me those ear buds and play some songs.”

“I have composed a song especially for Friendship Day Sanu-da. I hope you last through it. All the best. And remember…When there is faith, there is no fear!”

HR closed the door and went into the adjacent room to play his new song. Sanu-da flinched as the nasal twang erupted like a volcano. And then the song began.

“Oooooooooo…Happyyyyyyyy Friendship Dayyyyyyy…

Teri Yaari...Jaan se pyaari…

Happy friendship day my friend, my friend, my friend

Happy friendship day my friend, my friend, my friend

Tu hai mera friend…friend…friend”