Kartar Singh’s buffalos: Measuring Productivity

Kartar Singh is a milkman from Haryana. He has 20 buffaloes. The buffaloes are of a very rare breed and yield a rich bounty of milk. Kartar milks the buffaloes twice a day. He collects the milk and gives it back to the buffaloes as fodder. This process repeats itself every day.

Kartar is working very hard. He spends a lot of his productive hours in milking the buffaloes, collecting the milk and feeding the buffaloes every day.

In terms of output too, you would see that a large quantity of milk is getting collected and consumed every day.

Thus you would see that there is a lot of input and output. Would you be able to say that Kartar is being productive?  How do your measure his productivity?

Quite often we experience the same at our workplace. We spend a lot of time collecting, collating, formatting and storing voluminous data that is never used by anybody. We undertake several projects that take up a lot of time and effort but fail to yield the desired outcome.

As managers, we need to adopt an outcome based work culture that boosts productivity at the workplace. Before engaging our team in any activity we need to assess the impact of that activity. It might be useful to ask yourself a few questions.

·        Why are we doing this?

·        What is the benefit of doing this work?

·        Does this add the required value?

·        Does the value so derived outweigh the cost of efforts being put in?

·        Is there a better or more efficient way of doing this?

·        What if we stop doing this altogether?

Kartar may increase the number of buffaloes from 20 to 50. He might feel superior to the person who has lesser number of buffaloes. In the end, the buffaloes are not likely to survive on milk alone. They might end up being malnourished and meet a premature death.

At our workplace too it is common to see a race between managers who try to give more and more unproductive work to their teams. The team engaged in such work end up like Kartar’s buffaloes.

Kartar needs to find ways to sell his milk. He needs to market his produce effectively and add value to the milk produced by his buffaloes. His marketing skills can help in finding customers who are willing to pay him for the milk.

Similarly, a good manager should be able to sell the work of his team to the customer or the top management. It is only by doing so that he can add value.

Kartar needs to spend a portion of his profits towards providing better fodder to his buffaloes. He needs to provide them with better amenities. It is only by doing so that he can expect the buffaloes to be productive.

Managers need to learn the importance of rewards. Creating a congenial environment is vital to keep the team in a high state of motivation.

Push, Pull and Heave

This is a rock climbing competition. There are 3 teams participating. Each team has two participants.

Team 1 consists of participants A and B.

Team 2 consists of C and D.

Team 3 consists of E and F.

The rules are quite simple:

·         There is one rope allocated to each team and this can be shared by both participants

·         The participants in each team can help each other

·         There is one award each for best individual and best team

Now let us see what happens when the whistle is blown.

In team 1, both A and B jump for the rope. It is clear that both are good climbers and aiming for the best individual award. In the jostle, B manages to get onto the rope but A clambers on to his leg and tries to climb above B. B tries to get rid of A and stay on top but B does not let go of A. Both are stuck at the bottom of the rope and it is clear that there is no winner.

In team 2, C and D decide to help each other. C manages to climb first with support from D but he also helps D by pulling him up. D keeps pushing C to help him reach the top faster. This way both the members climb faster and reach the top. When they reach the top, C helps D by pulling him and makes him climb to the top of the rock ahead of him. Once D is on top, he quickly pulls C and helps him reach the top.

In team 3, E and F also decide to help each other. E is ahead of F but keeps pulling up F to carry him along. On his part F too supports E by pushing him up wherever required. This way, both of them reach the top. E is quick to climb up and once he is on the summit, he pulls up F also.

Some questions:

1.      Which is the worst team?

2.      Which is the best team?

3.      Who is likely to be the winner of individual award?

4.      Which team is likely to win the team award?

5.      If you were in the competition, who would you be amongst the 6 participants?

I shall leave it to you to come out with your own answers. There could be more than one right answer to most of the questions.

This example is given to illustrate the correlation between competition and collaboration.

How do we strike a balance between both and emerge as winners?

Can one of these be at the expense of the other?

What is in it for me?

What is in it for us?

Where do we draw the line?

I am not in the mood to give any answers today. Just look around you and you would find people ranging from A to F.

What you want to be is your personal choice.

Boiled eggs and the art of decision making

Breakfast in the Army was usually a hurried affair for a young officer. The interval between morning physical training and office barely gave time for a quick shower and change of dress. This was followed by brief stopover at the officer’s mess for a quick breakfast. Unlike a corporate guy who could take a quick bite of sandwich in his car on the way to work the poor subaltern had to follow a regimen that gave no concessions. The officer’s mess was still steeped in Victorian tradition and a normal breakfast would stretch at least for 30 minutes. It was an elaborate affair. One had to be seated and wait patiently while the mess waiter went about his job. He would walk up to your seat and fill a glass of water before popping the ubiquitous question.

“Sir, how would you like your egg?”

This seemingly innocuous query might seem very normal to us. After all it was a very plain and simple question. There was a finite number of ways in which a person could have eggs for breakfast. Therefore it was only a matter of one’s individual taste and choice.

It was my friend Manoj who exposed me to the intricacies behind this mundane question.

“Ramesh”, he asked me “have you ever wondered about how important this question is for us as leaders?”

The dumbfounded expression on my face would have convinced him that I had never given any thought to it, for he quickly clarified further, “This is perhaps the first decision that a leader takes every morning. You can get good insight into the decision making capabilities of leaders by just observing the way he responds to this question.”

Manoj was about my age. This conversation took place in the early eighties and both of us were in our early twenties. Manoj was a couple of years senior to me in service. Moreover, I had grown to respect his intelligence. Behind the thick rimmed glasses, I was aware of a brain that was razor sharp. I decided to take his words seriously and started observing the officers at the table over the next few days. My research was constrained by the small target group available for research. However it didn’t deter me. I soon realized that there were some distinct characteristics that put people under different groups.

The first lot consisted of those who clearly knew what they wanted.

“Two poached eggs please,” or “One scrambled egg,” they would bark out in their finely clipped accents even before the waiter had completed his query. A closer observation revealed these leaders to be very decisive. They knew what they wanted and they wasted no time. I also observed another startling fact. Some of them never varied their choice. It was poached eggs for them every single day of the week. Though good at taking decisions, these were the leaders who were prone to the weakness of applying set templates. For them every problem had just one solution. This solution was always the most apparent one. These were the leaders who excelled in military tactics and sand model discussions.

“I am sorry sir but we do not serve eggs on Tuesday. We serve only vegetarian today.”

Now this was very interesting. Suddenly the self-assured gentleman would be thrown out of balance. A new factor had been added that needed reassessment. Just like a software programmer who is told to add a new feature and made to rewrite the entire program, our gentleman too would find it hard to conceal his mild irritation. But he is usually quick in taking stock of the changed situation.

“Give me a cheese cutlet,” he would state nonchalantly.

The second lot consisted of those who found it difficult to decide what they wanted to eat.

 “Eggs?” They would repeat with a confused look, “What all are the options?”

This is from someone who has been dining at the same table for a few years.

“I shall have fried eggs”, they would say, “or perhaps I shall have an omelet.”

“Fine sir.” The waiter would mouth it quite inaudibly but he would continue to linger around without executing the instruction because he knows what to expect within a few minutes.

“Just a moment. Please cancel the omelet and make it fried eggs.”

“Deep fried or sunny side up sir?”

“Deep fried please. No. Hold on. Please make it single fry.”

We have seen enough leaders like this around us. They are not only indecisive but also prone to change their minds quite often.

The third category was quite interesting. They were the ones who were quite quick in taking decisions.

“I shall have a boiled egg”, they would state immediately on being seated. They would then spend some time exchanging pleasantries with others at the table. When the boiled egg is finally served, they would suddenly lose their temper.

“I had asked for an omelet”

“I am sorry sir. I might have misunderstood you. I shall get you an omelet.”

“No problem. Now that you have got it, I might as well have it. Next time please be more attentive while taking orders.”

Once the waiter is out of sight, they would roll their eyes dramatically and say, “These waiters! I wonder who trains them.”

Another category. consists of leaders who set high benchmarks.

“I shall have an Egg Benedict.”

“Sir, I am sorry but the cook does not know how to make one. Would you like to have something else?”

“What? He does not know Egg Benedict? Who made him a cook?”

Now these are the tricky ones. They set high expectations without taking stock of resources in hand.

I found yet another type. These were the ones who would quickly look around the table and see as to what others were having.

“I shall also have a boiled egg.”

Now these are leaders who do not take decision themselves. They are the democratic types who believe in decision making through consensus.

Having studied and categorized the leaders, I finally had a difficult question in front of me.

Who is the better leader of the lot?

I found it very difficult to come out with a clear answer. However I tracked the careers of these leaders for a couple of decades and found some interesting facts.

The leaders who were decisive were the ones most likely to reach top management.

The indecisive ones had lackluster careers.

The ones who were impulsive and prone to change their minds were hated by subordinates. Some rose to middle management but got stagnated thereafter.

The ones who asked for Egg Benedict were the ones who aspired to become Generals but failed to make the cut to Colonel.

The democratic ones were good in field and loved by their men but they too failed to reach the top.

My friend Manoj was one of the very few who managed to reach the top. I realize today that I had erred while taking his advice. Instead of spending my time on research, I should have followed his leadership style.

But then it is too late in life to change my choice of eggs.

Colonel Nasser’s Fish Tank: A couple of management lessons

The last time I went to Hyderabad, Col and Mrs. Nasser invited some of us over to dinner. Mrs. Nasser has some secret recipes passed down over several generations. Hence it was with a lot of eagerness and anticipation (the tongue lapping against my knees was not particularly conducive to ambulation) that I arrived at their door step. Nasser sahib has a haveli which can put many a modern day nawab to shame. At the entrance to his divan-e-am (this portion is for commoners; real guests are entertained at the divan-e-khas that is the inner sanctorum) I stopped by to look at an interesting school of fish. For those of us who have grown used to seeing brightly colored fish blinded by psychedelic lights in drawing room aquariums, Nasser’s fish tank might come as a big surprise. Here the fish are allowed to live in peace under more natural surroundings.

As we stood admiring the fish, we found one that was injured. Mrs. Nasser came and announced that one more fish had been attacked. It was then that Nasser related the tale of the new fish. It seems that the fish in the tank were living a peaceful life under the benevolent care of Col and Mrs. Nasser. There were several species but the tank was large and they all had learnt to live in their own territory. In social terms one could call it lebensraum. They all respected one another’s living space and learnt to co-exist peacefully.

It was then that the new entrant was introduced into the pool. He was a very healthy specimen. He was obviously the brightest and smartest of them all. Unfortunately he lacked one trait. He was a poor team player. A loner by nature, he was shunned by all. In turn, he was constantly looking out for opportunities to attack any unsuspecting member of the pool who showed the audacity to cross his path. We also saw that some of the smart ones in the pool had learnt to adapt to the presence of the new entrant. They were vigilant and managed to evade the threat. Suddenly the whole pool had become an arena where only the fittest could survive.

As we stood talking, Col Nasser was seriously contemplating ways to segregate the newcomer from the rest of the pool. I was reminded of a famous Hindi saying that a single rotten fish is enough to spoil the pond.

Management lessons:

Lesson 1. As leaders when we build teams, we need to look at the attitude and aptitude of each team member. Sometimes a particular member might be very good in all areas of work but he might be unwilling to share and bond with the rest. As leaders we need to try and integrate such members into the team. We also need to look at this trait while hiring new members.

Lesson2. Just as the new fish had changed the established order, a new entrant always brings a breath of fresh air. It awakens a team from its state of stupor. It provides new challenges to the rest who feel their territory being threatened.

Knowing Colonel Nasser’s penchant for discipline I am quite sure that he might have trained the new fish and integrated it into his school. If not, I wouldn’t be surprised to know of a new addition to the Nizam’s famed recipe book. J

ltcolramesh.menon@gmail.com

Birds, Cats and Neighbours

It was love at first sight.  It was different from what I had expected in an apartment in the heart of the city. One tends to associate the city with noise, dust and pollution of unimaginable magnitude. Therefore it was a pleasant surprise. There was an old world charm about this apartment complex. The entrance gate was reminiscent of a bygone era. It was like entering a time machine and getting transported to a past whose hazy memory lurked somewhere in the recess of one’s mind.  The driveway was embellished by a verdant patch on the right. The building in itself was quite unassuming. The redeeming feature was that it appeared to be in good shape. It had withstood the vagaries of time and weather over the two decades of its existence with aplomb. What was it that made this place so different? Was it those tall trees that had miraculously escaped the axe of a greedy land mafia? Was it the facade of the structure that was so antiquated in its style and form? Was it the absence of amenities like gym, swimming pool and spa that builders of various hues promised to attract clientele? At first I thought that it was the greenery. One could expect such luxury only in the subtopia. Who would imagine that a stone’s throw from MG road could be so resplendent in a canopy so verdant? It was much later that I realized the source of my attraction.

It was the silence.

I remember the first morning in my new abode. I woke up early morning. The silence was eerie. It was as though the whole world was fast asleep. As I lay in bed I was reminded of my childhood. It was a time when one woke up to the crowing of a cockerel instead of the blaring horn of an irritant motorist finding his way home after a night shift. My reverie was broken by some faint noises in the background. I suddenly realized that these were sounds from my past. Something that was long buried in the deep recess of memory. The twitter of the early bird, the cooing of a cuckoo, the early sounds of Mother Nature yawning herself awake after a protracted period of slumber. It was sheer bliss. I was in a mood to drift off into yet another bout of nostalgia when I was rudely awakened by a shriek. At first I mistook it to be the sound of a squealing infant. But there was something about even the most persistent squeal of an infant that was soothing to the human ear. It would only sweep you in a wave of tenderness. What accosted my ears was far from tender. It was guttural. Somehow I could perceive that it was not human. Yet it was so close to the cry of a child in anguish. As I pondered over this mystery I could perceive some other signs of life in the apartment. It was apparent that my neighbour was awake. Through the shaft I could hear sounds of a kitchen coming to life. With so much of activity around, it was becoming increasingly impossible to curl up. Moreover my bladder was also giving indications. I got up and made way to the bathroom. It was there that I encountered another sound. I froze. It was like a growl of a cornered animal. It was gradually increasing in frequency. I strained my ears and tried to identify it. Suddenly I smiled. The mystery had been solved. It was my neighbour trying to clear his throat. I realized that it was a daily ritual that would pester me for the rest of my life in the apartment.

I dressed up quickly since I had to hit the gym. As I opened my front door and stepped out I literally jumped out of my skin up in alarm. There was a furry creature on the door mat and I had almost stepped on it. It took me a moment to identify it. Suddenly I was overcome by a feeling of remorse. It was a poor cat. I wondered about the identity of the cruel owner who shunted out this creature at night. In the car park I was in for another surprise. Perched atop my bonnet was another feline creature. It glared at me. It was clear that my intrusion, into what it deemed to be its territory, was most unwelcome. I tried to shoo it off but it spat back in anger and raised its tail in defiance.I turned around in exasperation only to be in for another shock. My neighbour’s car was also occupied by a similar intruder who seemed to share his colleagues’ animosity. I looked around in confusion and realized that there were a few more cats around. They were streaming around me. Some were perched atop the cars while others emerged from the bottom. I realized that I was outnumbered. I thanked my stars that they were cats. What if they were all dogs? It would have been a different ball game. I thanked the God for this small mercy. Shooing away the cats was clearly not an option. They seemed to be quite bold and used to human presence. Even when I went close, they never stepped back. The only response that my actions elicited was a low growl and a spitting noise. Suddenly I heard the sound that I had heard in bed. It was then that I realized the source. A few of these cats had learnt to mime a voice that was quite human and yet so scary. I got into my car and revved up the engine. The cat on the bonnet realized that his territory had become untenable. With one last glare in my direction he jumped down.

Throughout the forty minutes of my exercise routine, I kept going over the incidents of the morning. It was clear that the peace and tranquility that I had sought in my new house was facing threat from several quarters. When I returned after my exercise I saw the maid from an apartment feeding the cats. There were a dozen of them.  It was at that moment that my elderly neighbour emerged. He was still clearing his throat. On seeing me his face split into a wide smile that was quite infectious. I shook hands with him and introduced myself. Looking at the cats, he divulged that we had a couple in the apartment complex that ran a home for abandoned cats. And thus the mystery of the cats was finally unraveled.

Over the next few months I got used to my new life. Barring the cats and my neighbour with a throat problem, the apartment complex was still a haven of peace and tranquility  I learnt that the apartment owners association had already expressed their annoyance at the disturbance caused by the cats but the people who ran the shelter were quite reluctant to abandon their noble pursuit. Petitions and meetings had failed to deter them. Though I admired them for their tenacity and resolve, I was of the opinion that they had no right to pursue their passion at the cost of the peace and tranquility enjoyed by others.

A couple of months back my affable neighbour with the genial smile had a minor accident. He broke a bone and was bedridden. I could no longer hear the sound of his gargling during the early hours. The cat menace also reduced over a period of time. Perhaps the number of cats had dwindled or the people who ran the shelter had finally been sensitized. I have a nagging suspicion that it was not the noise that had abated. Perhaps I had got used to it. It was quite akin to those who lived in close vicinity of airports or railway lines. After some time the noise stops bothering you.

Though insensitive to the noise, I could not help wondering about the insensitivity of those who had scant regard for others. Living in a community was quite akin to being married. You have to be sensitive to the need of the person who co-habits with you. I often wondered about the people who drew sadistic pleasure from the inconvenience caused to others. It was apparent that one would find some such specimens of humanity in every corner of the globe. One needs to be able to consider it as fait accompli and learn to live with it.

My story would have ended on this pessimistic note had it not been for what happened this morning.

Having endured the ritual of a rude awakening by my feline friends, it was in a dour mood that I entered the toilet.  I shut the door and tried to shut out the sound of the cats. When the noise abated, I heaved a sigh of relief. It was then that I heard something that was music to my ears. It was a symphony that I had missed for long. It was the sound of my affable neighbour who was clearing his throat vigorously.My heart leapt with an inexplicable feeling of joy.

The birds were singing once again.

Back to blogging

It is more than a year. I visited my blog today. The feeling was akin to what you feel when you visit a place where you have spent time in the past. The gush of feelings experienced by a time traveller as he hurtles into a long forgotten past. The feeling of deja vu as one experiences a horde of myriad images floating in the deep recesses of one's hazy memory.

Life in the army had given me enough opportunities to trip through memory lane. At first it was as a child, flitting from cantonment to cantonment depending on what fortune had in store for my late father. Each new station was a process of rebirth. New house, new school, new friends and and entirely new environment.

The earliest memory of such a change is our house in Goa where we could see the orange ball of fire being swallowed by the Arabian sea every evening. The memory of dad in his favorite chair regaling a doting mom with colorful tales of the day. The small garden in front with steps leading you to it. The small house on the hill, afforded one a luxurious view of the sea as it lashed the shores in eternal fury. It was only an Army cantonment that could provide one with such luxuries without having to dig deep into one's pocket.

The house in Kolkata was quite bare in comparison. The memories too are quite black and white in stark contrast to the myriad images of Goa.  It was the time when India undertook an adventurous campaign to liberate Bangladesh. The experience of blackouts is one that never fades from memory. It was also the time when dad went on a mission to Jessore.  The only time in his Army career when he had to leave us behind and go on an operational stint.

Delhi cantonment brings back vivid images of long bicycle rides along the wide roads with sparse traffic. A group of friends would go from house to house and tinkle their bicycle bells to announce arrival. This would result in the addition of one more member to the group, The school with its vast array of bicycle stands was a sight in itself. Last month I happened to pass by the same road.  I craned my neck to look out for a bicycle. Even if there was one, it would have been lost in the mad rush of an endless stream of cars as drivers honked furiously and looked out for ways to overtake each other.

There were a lot of other places. The journey continued even after dad hung his uniform and I donned mine. There is more to say but let us leave it for another day.

The Malocclusion

The Rajdhani Express was rapidly eating up the distance from Bangalore to Delhi. Even this elite train of the Indian Railways was not free from the class system; a legacy from the colonial past. The prohibitive fare structure precluded the possibility of an average Indian being a passenger on this train. Majority of the persons adopting this mode of transportation either belonged to the business class or were Government Servants holding positions of varying importance in the multifarious ministries and departments of the Government of India. The hierarchy that further segregated these passengers based on their relative degrees of affluence and place in the pecking order could be easily discerned by their class of travel.

The lowest class on the train was the air conditioned three tier.Then there was the air conditioned two tier that afforded a passenger the luxury of added living space. The creamy layer on the train were the select few who could afford to travel in the air conditioned first class coach. Indrajit Banerjee traveling in cabin A was one such distinguished passenger.

As he lounged in the luxurious environs of his cabin, Indrajit's eyes went over the only other occupant seated across. His nose wrinkled in disgust when he observed the malocclusion. The protuberance of the canines and premolars disguised an otherwise handsome visage. The six offenders jutted out at an angle almost perpendicular to the upper jaw. The upper lip was pursed behind while its lower counterpart had withdrawn to the inner recess of his mouth. It was as though the lips themselves were distancing themselves from the rebarbative feature that overshadowed their presence.

Indrajit realized that barring this singular disfigurement the young man was strikingly handsome. He was also well attired. The designer clothes and accessories hinted at an unusual degree of affluence. The cell phone glued to his ear had been active for considerable lengths of time throughout the journey from Bangalore. Now the train was approaching Secunderabad and the youngster was fidgeting in his seat. Perhaps he was yearning for a breath of fresh air or the morning newspapers.

Indrajit mused about the callousness of parents who permitted the malocclusion to reach such a gigantic proportion. It was preposterous. The parents should be prosecuted for criminal neglect. A timely visit to an orthodontist would have easily rectified the anomaly. Even now the situation was not beyond repair. The rapid strides in the field of dental surgery had made miracles possible. Cosmetic dental surgery was no longer uncommon in the country. Indrajit was amazed to see that the youngster who spent enormous amounts on colognes and perfumes was loathe to spend some on his teeth.

The young man suddenly left his seat. Indrajit realized that the train had arrived at the station. Within a few minutes a young girl entered the cabin. She was struggling under the weight of a large suitcase. Having safely deposited her baggage under the seat she flopped wearily on one of the seats. Indrajit was not very pleased at this development. One of the luxuries of traveling First Class was that the cabin was intended to accommodate only two passengers. He was about to protest but was held back by the girl's beauty. Moreover, the berth on which the girl was seated belonged to his co-occupant. Indrajit was certain that the Ticket Examiner would shoo away the illegal occupant when he came on his rounds.

Indrajit was furtively observing the girl. She was truly pretty. Her teeth appeared okay. No malocclusion here. Seeing his eyes on her the girl flashed a disarming smile. It was one of those wide mouthed smiles that belonged to girls who were proud of their teeth.Indrajit smiled in return. It was then that his eyes fell on her gums. They were bright pink. He detected a trace of red in them. From the deep recess of his brain a single word of warning seemed to flash silently- gingivitis!

The young man reappeared. He was carrying some oranges and a copy of The Week. Momentarily distracted by the presence of the girl on his seat, he took some time to regain his composure. Indrajit was expecting the youngster to admonish the illegal occupant. Therefore he was quite surprised when the girl flashed her radiant smile once again and was offered an orange in return. Though the girl refused the offer, Indrajit noticed that the ice had broken between them. He was keenly observing the girl. As she spoke to the young man she could not arrest her eyes from wandering over the single anomalous feature on the otherwise handsome face.

Indrajit tried to obfuscate the malicious grin that appeared on his face. It was obvious to him that the girl was just being polite. Her attempts at conversation were a reflection of her good breeding. She was just being kind. The way one is taught to be kind to a person who is visually impaired or physically handicapped. Suddenly a funny thought occurred to him, which almost made him laugh. He hid his face behind a newspaper. He was imagining the boy trying to kiss the girl. Would the girl relent? Imagine those teeth invading the mouth of a girl. They were sure to reach her throat and gag her. Who would kiss a person with so hideous a deformity?

The train continued its furious pace. The soft music coupled with frequent supplies of meals and refreshments lulled the passengers into a state of satiated somnolence. Indrajit chose to hide behind a paperback and discreetly observe the interaction of the youngsters seated across. It was obvious that the young man was charmed by the bewitching smile of his companion. Clearly he had never heard about gingivitis.

As the train approached Bhopal, the young man made hurried preparations to leave. When he had packed his bags and tucked away the unread copy of The Week, he bid farewell to the girl. The enthusiastic response of the girl reinforced Indrajit's conviction that she was truly pleased at his departure. Poor girl! It was apparent to him that she was heaving a sigh of relief. Having dispensed with the girl, the young man rewarded him with a frosty stare accompanied by a limp wave of his hand. Indrajit responded with a perfunctory nod of his head and quickly glanced out of the darkened window. Bidding farewell to strangers was never his forte. It was then that his eyes fell on the divine creature standing on the platform.

The girl was in her early twenties. Her tall and shapely form was sheathed in a red dress that accentuated the curves of her body. Her honey coloured skin gave an earthiness to her, which was compelling. The soft and wavy hair framed an oval face reminiscent of a Ravi Varma painting. Her eyes, nose and lips were all so beautiful in their symmetry and shape that they reminded Indrajit of the figures of the Goddess during Durga Puja. When the lips parted to reveal an array of teeth perfect in shape, shine and symmetry, their beauty overwhelmed Indrajit. He had never felt like this before. His mouth had gone dry and his heart was pounding furiously in his chest. Indrajit was sure that she was the woman of his dreams. He hoped that she would board the same compartment. Before the train reached Delhi, he would charm her and propose to her. 

The lurching of the train broke his reverie. With dismay he realised that the train had started without his beloved. With his nose pressed against the window glass, he continued to gaze at the object of his desire. Suddenly her eyes lit up and a smile of recognition played on her lips. He shifted his gaze towards the person who had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He could not believe his eyes. Approaching her, with his arms outstretched, was the youngster who was his erstwhile companion. As the train threw the couple beyond the field of vision, Indrajit craned his neck for a last glimpse. An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he watched the spectacle of the duo in a  warm embrace. The lips of the couple were firmly locked in a kiss so passionate that even the Rajdhani Express could not suppress a sympathetic moan of sheer ecstasy.