Double Entry

Pawan Verma

I have always been fond of handling figures. Figures of speech, I mean. But when it comes to handling accounting figures I draw a complete blank. Some 15 years ago, when I was recruited for my present managerial job, I was one of the few in a group of 60, who constantly challenged the patience of our accounts professor – a chartered accountant of repute – who had taken upon himself the task of teaching us the “Double Entry” accounting system. We were not sure whether it was his way of showing his superiority or a source of sadistic pleasure, but every time we would say an account was to be debited, he would insist otherwise and would end up saying “I can take a horse to water but…..”

I sincerely believe that accounting is a simple job made difficult by chartered accountants to keep themselves in business. Old-time accountants say that there used to be the ‘Single Entry’ accounting system earlier. But people started learning it very fast. Hence the “Double Entry” system was developed by some chartered accountants.

Time rolled on and our five months’ theoretical training was followed by another five months of rigorous on-the-job training. Back to the college for a two-month refresher course, things were no better. So, in his final lecture, the professor condescendingly told me, “Don’t worry Pawan, I will give you a clue. Whenever you are faced with the question whether to ‘credit’ an account or ‘debit’ it, decide the matter from your common sense and then act against it. I’m sure, you will never be wrong.”

“If that was so, why did you waste your one previous year teaching me accounts?” I responded. But not to be outwitted, he was ready with an answer. “How else Pawan, would you have known the limits of your mental powers?”

Well, every dog has his day and I had mine. It was our farewell function at the training college. The chairman graced the occasion. Our accounts professor was again at his best. This time giving us a lecture on “Managers in shop floor situations.” He also managed the questions at the end, in his familiar witty style. Unfortunately for me, my first question was just cut out for him. His witty reply not only floored me completely but evoked laughter and applause from the audience as well. But determined to avenge myself, I was not to be outwitted this time. So, very innocently I got up and said, “Sir, I forget the second question you told me to ask.”

There was a deafening silence followed by roaring laughter. For the first time I had found the witty professor at his wits’ end. I don’t know how much was debited or credited to my career-account, but I was sure I had settled my accounts with the professor.

From the Mouths of Babes

Pawan Verma

There are many advantages of having children. They are a great help in old age and they help you attain it faster as well. Quite often, they help you learn the virtues of patience. They also help you realise that obedience to children is the best insurance against developing insanity.

Any experienced parent will tell you that there are two difficult periods during the parenthood. First, when your children start asking questions that have answers. The second period comes even earlier: when your children start asking questions that have no answers. In the search for an answer, you certainly can’t draw from your realm of reasoning.

As a parent, I realised this fact of life when our second child was born. It was one of those intimate family moments when myself, my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter Shweta, and my wife Neelima with new born baby in her lap, were sitting together choosing a name for the newborn.

As we were rejecting one name after the other, my wife came out with the name ’Harsh’. But before I could endorse the suggestion I discovered the horror and disbeliefs in my daughter’s face. As a sweet little girl who had started going to school and had just added up a few English words to her vocabulary, she instantly protested, “Dad, shall we call him horse?” No amount of reasoning would convince her, for the simple reason that this new word was just not there in her dictionary.

Years later, when the infant baby had grown into a cute little three-year-old, my reasoning was put to test once again. One evening, as the entire family was sitting around the study table, this young man suddenly startled up.

As I lifted my eyes from the book, I saw a twinkle in his eyes. Excited, he announced in the ‘Eureka’ style, “You know, I can switch off the lights sitting right here.” Amused I asked him to show me how. He closed his eyes and said, “See, now the lights are off.” I told him that I could also do the same, and closing my eyes I announced that the lights were off. But the young man, with his eyes wide open protested vehemently that they were not.

As he was quick to take the confirmation of those around him, I only realised what a fool I was making of myself in the eyes of my son. Once again, no amount of reasoning could convince him that by closing his eyes he could not put off the lights.

These small incidents in life have given me a lot of belated wisdom to face the world. For, as a public sector executive, when I am faced with a similar kind of logic and perception coming from my unions, I do not get agitated. I do not get perplexed when they open the windows and yet do not see the light outside. Their demands on the management quite often remind me of the story of the old man who was reading a newspaper in a park. A young man came up and sat near him for a while.

Moments later, the young man asked him if he could lend his specs for a while. After the old man had parted with the specs, the young man came out with another request, “I don’t think without the specs the newspaper has any utility for you. Can you give it to me?”

Managing the Boss

Pawan Verma

IT COULD very well have been a scene from an Amitabh Bachchan movie – the big droning fly moving from one bald executive head to the other, and everyone patting his head turn by turn in the process of swatting at the fly. The only difference was that it was happening live during a high-profile business conference being attended by the Chairman and the Managing Director of a big Japanese company. The Chairman and other senior executives of an Indian public sector undertaking were the hosts. Moments after the conference had begun, and the guest chairman had started addressing the audience, the big droning fly got into its act. Possibly, it was imported on to the dais through the bouquets of flowers presented to the guests. As it continued squatting from one bald head to the other, it was providing enough entertainment to the audience. In between, it would hide behind the bouquets, restoring peace and order on the dais. And again, it would come out of its hiding with its resonant music and declare its preference for the execute heads.

Possibly emboldened by its short-duration successes, the fly this time had decided to take a longer flight. But obviously it had run out of luck – as it elicited an urgent chorus from the executives present on the dais, calling the waiter for help. But before the waiter could come to their rescue, the lone Japanese got up, took out his handkerchief, caught the fly in his third attempt and handed it over to the waiter.

There was one more small little thing that caught people’s attention during the conference. As the managing director of the Japanese company was delivering his speech, his chairman got up, came to the audience and took a photograph of his managing director. The incidents reveal a lot about the way the Japanese management system functions. Not only are they less cadre-conscious, but they take pride in doing things themselves rather than merely ordering others about the same. A closer look demonstrates that hard work and quality of results are the hallmark of their system.

It is not that our own system of management here in India is less demanding, although in a different way. Here you must treat your boss as god, although you may treat a subordinate like a dog. The system, however, is so that it helps you develop an instant liking for your boss: if you don’t, you get fired. But having said that, it needs to be acknowledged that within the system, it is easy to manage the boss – just listen to him. You must not talk while he is interrupting you and if he needs your opinion, rest assured, he will not hesitate in giving it to you.

I remember the story of a friend of mine who was not fully initiated into the system yet. As he seemed to raise an eyebrow during one of the regular counselling sessions, his boss shouted at him,

“How dare you argue with me, young man”?

"I haven’t said a word, sir,”  the young man protested.

“You were listening in a very aggressive manner”, said the boss in the final judgement.

(First Published in Hindustan Times Edit Page dated 05.10.1999)

Wife-long Affair

Pawan Verma

“Man is born free”, said Rousseau, “but everywhere he is in chains”. The tragedy of man’s eternal bondage, which prompted the French philosopher to utter these words, started with an act of God Himself, when He created Eve out of a rib of Adam, placed her in front of him and said, “Go and choose thy wife”. In recent times, God seems to have delegated His powers to Eve, who now decides everything on behalf of Adam. The other day, in a wedding, as the priest asked the bride if she accepted the groom as her husband, she said, “I do”. When a similar question was put to the groom, she promptly replied, “Yes, he does”.

Yet, it remains a fact that all men are not slaves, some are bachelors also. Those who are lucky in love remain bachelors, realizing that it is better to have loved and lost than to do home work with three children. The ordinary mortal among the men, however, keeps on chasing a woman till she catches him and becomes his WIFE, which is nothing but a euphemistic abbreviation for “Worries Invited For Ever”. It is indeed a pity that while a woman takes 20 years to make a man of her son, another woman makes a fool of him in 20 minutes and hooks him for a husband.

Ideally speaking, all marriages are happy. It is the living together afterwards that causes all the trouble. Before marriage, a girl gets into her fiancé’s wallet as a photo, but after marriage she gets into the wallet herself. As a result, marital life becomes a matter of wife and debt. I know of a friend who didn’t report the theft of his credit card to the police for the simple reason that the thief was spending much less than his wife. Unfortunately, such marriages are doomed to end in divorce. As he loses his capital, she loses her interest.

Yet, there are husbands who profit immensely from their marriage. Their wives, generally speaking, are generally speaking. Quite often, such a husband undergoes considerable intellectual growth after his marriage, as his wife gives him a piece of her mind every day. It is precisely for this reason that King Solomon, backed up by his 100 wives, was considered to be the wisest man on earth. Sure enough, he gave them the best ears of his life.

The essence of marital wisdom lies in the realization that women are always smarter than men : they have figures to prove it. Therefore, any man who thinks that he is smarter than his wife, would indeed be married to a smart woman. Wise husbands discover quite early in their marital career that “man” is only a part of “woman”, that every “madam” has an “Adam” in it, every “she” has a “he” in it and every “lady” contains a ‘lad in it. Such realizations help a man graduate as a “perfect husband” early in life, which in essence means developing a belief that one has got a “perfect wife”.

(First published in Times of India, Edit page, dated 16.05.2001)

My First Love

Pawan Verma

It was undoubtedly love at first sight. I fell for her at the very first glimpse. Draped in crimson red with a black top, she looked to be a thing of beauty, graceful enough to stir neighbors’ envy and owner’s pride. For a moment she made me intensely feel that she and I were made for each other.

And so there she was, at the very day at my house ending my six month search for her in the tiny little foreign island.

My neighbors lived up to their reputation. For, they would not approve of her. They said I had gone more for looks rather than for intrinsic worth. But as days rolled into months my love for her grew in exact proportion to my neighbors’ disapproval. She would faithfully accompany me to the office every day, would reduce my boredom on the 25-km stretch by singing melodious old hits. Off and on she would also tell me the weather forecast and read out the morning news. In the evenings she would accompany me to the innumerable cocktails and dinners till late in the night.

She made good friends with my wife Neelima as well, who learnt and perfected her driving in her company. My wife often remembers the afternoon when, on a driving lesson both of them chased a solitary middle-aged man on his moped, who, finding both of them uncontrollably behind him, plunged into the nearby field , got up and without looking back for a second, drove away in the reverse direction.

She was equally friendly with my two children, Shweta and Harsh. With her arrival their visits to the beach had increased as also trips to the ice-cream parlors. On the bumpy curvy road to the beach, while I would concentrate on the steering wheel, she would sing in chorus with my children.

But as months changed into years, age finally started telling upon her health. She could no longer take the strenuous routine of accompanying me to the office. So she would stay home and accompany my wife on smaller trips to beauty parlors etc. But, in spite of her failing health we loved her.

Finally came the time to part company. My three-year tenure on the beautiful island of Mauritius came to an end. Local laws would not permit me to stay there while Indian customs would not allow her to come to India. I spoke to my friends and neighbors, but they were unhelpful. However, with my wife’s tactful planning she got a place at another house.

Before parting, she gave me a beautiful gift. A tape deck-cum-tuner which now decorates my new car back home in India. But whenever I listen to its music, I travel down the memory lane, fondly remembering my first car – the lovely little Austin Allegro. Naturally so, she was my first love outside my marriage.

(First published in Times of India, Edit Page dated 08.03.1995)

Walk and Watch

Pawan Verma

ALTHOUGH I have been taking morning walks for ages, I have never been able to decide whether, while walking in a circle, it is proper to walk from right to left or left to right. While the great majority walks from left to right, I prefer to walk from right to left. Walking anti-clockwise does not make me anti-establishmentarian in any way. I also know that moving from right to left these days is sheer foolishness because the left is fast getting out of relevance now. My friends also tell me that in this complex world, quite often, left is right and right is wrong. Therefore, while in Delhi, I should do what the Delhiites do.

However, I prefer not to walk along with the large majority for the simple reason that with so many beautiful ladies walking around the circle, walking behind them always gives the impression that I am following them. Honestly speaking, my job requires me to be a leader of men. Hence, I think, it is unbecoming of me to start my day as a follower of women. In fact, it is a catch-22 situation. Since all of them walk at a brisk pace, if you happen to be behind them, you appear to be chasing women. If you are ahead of them, you appear to be being chased by them. Interesting propositions by themselves, no doubt, but I would like to leave these pastimes for my teenager son to pursue.

Walking in the opposite direction, no doubt, deprives me of the great fan following available on the other side. Yet, it does offer some definite advantages as well. Seeing all those beautiful faces twice in completing a round is not a small consolation. It could motivate one to walk faster to complete the round quickly. The consequent benefits to one’s heart and physical fitness are the other welcome by-products. In addition, one can also benchmark one’s speed against a fellow walker from the opposite direction. Every inch of space gained in a round can inspire one to walk still faster.

For those, who come to Rajiv Chowk at Connaught Place more for morning watch than for morning walk, it provides a spectacle of sorts. Apart from the morning beauties, you also have walk-enthusiasts like the power-walker who would be walking briskly even in the rain, with an umbrella. Then, there is this man and his dog, both pulling each other continuously. Sometimes, the man pulls the dog and, the rest of the time it is the dog which pulls the man. One wonders whether the man owns the dog or the dog owns the man.

But of all the morning walkers, I like the man with a walkman, who enjoys his musical walk, oblivious of everything else. I don’t envy him even a bit, since I walk with my own walk-woman, my sweet and lovely wife, Neelima. Short of singing to me during the morning walk, she does everything else, like updating me on the latest in neighborhood news, film gossip, political commentary, and the like. With such a sweet morning, who is afraid of the day?


(First Published in the Times of India, Edit Page, on 24.02.2001)

Angels in the Sky

By Pawan Verma

With the boarding pass in hand, I become complacent, assured of a seat on the flight. I forget the fact that this Air Mauritius flight from Mauritius to Singapore is heavily over-booked, mainly because of the sudden rush of tourists to Singapore on a shopping spree following the liberalization of customs duty by the Government of Mauritius.

But late-comers must suffer. As I enter the aircraft, I discover to my dismay that non-availability of any vacant seat in the Economy Class has made me an “outstanding” passenger. But the air hostess is helpful, “Let me find a seat for you Sir, in the Executive Class on the same ticket”.

She is back within a minute with bad news for me, “Unfortunately Sir, both the Executive and the First Class are full. But the Pilot has offered that you could travel in the cockpit if you find it convenient.

The first fifteen minutes in the cockpit are full of the excitement of seeing the plane fly. I become part of the flying crew and switch on some of the knobs located on my side. But once the plane is horizontal in the sky, the excitement peters off as nothing happens thereafter. I am gradually overpowered by loneliness and frustration and desperately wait for the seven-hour flight to end.

I look back from the cockpit door and exchange glances with the two gentlemen, sitting on an exclusive sofa, separating the cockpit from the First Class. I learn from the Co-Pilot that they are the Airline’s Resident Managers at Bombay and Singapore. Looking at them a thousand thoughts keep creeping in my mind about the hollowness of the airline’s claims of customer friendliness.

My frustration increases as I discover that both the wine and the women – I mean the air hostesses – come up to the sofa, but dare not cross the “Laxman Rekha’ to enter the cockpit. As I resign myself to my fate and the two oldies, in the semi-darkness of the cockpit, a beautiful angel appears from nowhere and whispers soothingly in my ears, “Sir, our Resident Manager at Nairobi is travelling in the First Class and having come to know that one passenger is travelling in the cockpit, has offered to exchange his seat with yours.

I couldn’t have asked for anything better. My admiration for the airlines swells up. As I enter the First Class, the beautiful air-hostess offers her scarlet smile with a compelling request: “May I take off your jacket Sir?”
I accept the smiles and give her the jacket. What follows is royal treatment – pizzas and pastries, sherry and champagne included.

As we close-in on our destination, the pretty air hostess is back to me with a bewitching smile and a trayful of exotic perfumes. Anticipating the high cost of shopping in the air, I show my reluctance. Undeterred, she gracefully settles down on her knees by my side on the carpeted aisle, her scarlet scarf gently caressing my bare hands. My sales resistance is immediately lowered at the soft touch and I flatter her by saying, “Give me the one which you are wearing”.

‘Oh, that’s Nina Ricci Sir. One can never go wrong with this.’

On my return, I present the Nina Ricci to my sweet and lovely wife at the airport itself. Knowing my naiveté at the exotic extravaganza, she teases me with a meaningful smile, “The angel who sold you this must be extremely beautiful.”
“Sure, she is”, I confess.

This brings to a happy end a journey well undertaken. But lighter side apart; although I am myself on a marketing assignment in a service industry, these angels in the sky have taught me something on customer care and friendliness, which is worth thousands of seminars and conferences.
(First Published in Hindustan Times dated July 22, 1996)