Britannia - Eat Healthy, Think Better?

Britannia Treat – “tasty delights for all kids with yummy creamy treasures within the biscuit shell.”

This is how the company website describes its range of cream biscuits sold under the brand name of Treat. For a processed foods company (especially one targeting kids) it is imperative that the highest standards of quality are laid down and followed.

Therefore, I was horrified, on opening a packet of Jim Jam Treat, to find dead insects stuck on the crust of these biscuits. The pictures below tell the whole story, more emphatically than I could ever hope to.

However, is quality such an important matter for them? Do they make efforts to guarantee that the purity of their products is being maintained, not only within the manufacturing premises, but also at every point in the distribution channel? Do these mammon- worshipping entities care for anything but the lure of mega profits? How accountable are they for the products they manufacture and sell?

In all fairness to the company, they reacted quickly to my complaint and sent a sales officer to “explain” the situation to me. The officer said that it is very difficult for the company to make sure that the products are handled with the same care at the distributor/retailer’s premises. The insects could have entered at any point in the distribution channel.

I, for my part, can only hope that the company understands the seriousness of the issue and takes effective steps – like improving their product packaging to make sure that something like this is not repeated again.

Kozhikode

Kozhikode, situated on the Malabar cost of India, receives torrential monsoons. These monsoons make it a wet and humid place. And, like other Indian cities, it is overcrowded. If you ever stop at the traffic intersection on Mavoor Road, the pungent smell of pollution and the throbbing sound of petrol and diesel engines, combined with the incessant sound of blaring horns will conspire to suffocate you. With any luck, it will be raining heavily. You will be drenched and your trousers mucked up. In spite of all this, you will see a fair deal of commercial activity. On both sides of the road, you will find dozens of shops. Some are small and dingy. Others are glamorous with large neon signs and attractive glass facades. But, a feeling of forced claustrophobia is omnipresent.

As Good As It Gets

IMDB Rating: 7.7/10

Cast of characters:

Jack Nicholson as Melvin Udall

Helen Hunt as Caroll Connelly

Greg Kinnear as Simon Bishop

Introduction

This movie is a touching comedy about three New Yorkers, three unhappy people, who have been condemned by destiny to be whacked and slapped more often than what would be their fair share. It is about a writer (Udall), who has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), he is mean, angry and frustrated; but writes romantic stories for a living. It is about this diffident, young homosexual painter (Simon), who has a strange kind of honesty about him. And a not so young, single mother (Caroll) who has somewhere lost her own self between nursing her acutely ill son and working as a waitress.

The First Scene

Simon’s ill-mannered pooch is contemplating blasphemy at the corner of a wall with his one hind leg raised in the air, outside the front door of Udall’s apartment. This certainly does not go well with Udall. He discourages the dog in his characteristic mean and threatening manner, talking and smiling to him, inviting the dog to join him in the elevator, perhaps to dispose him off in the bustle of the mean city outside. The dog is not easily convinced. Udall picks him up, and the pooch takes advantage of his elevated position to do what Udall dreads. A disgusted Udall, enraged with the dog’s audacity, pushes him down the garbage chute; a smug smile adorns his countenance as he naively thinks that he has rid himself of this nuisance forever.

Udall

Udall is a queer character. He does not walk in a straight line, but chooses to dodge imaginary lines on the floor beneath. He, as the rest of the world, does not simply switch on the light, or lock the door. He will switch the light on and off five times – on, off, on, off and finally, on. Ditto for the lock. The cabinet above his washbasin is stacked with dozens of newly packed soap bars. He washes his hands with two new soap bars under blistering hot water. An extreme case of OCD; he is in dire need of the services of a professional and competent psychiatrist. At the same time, he is also an extremely popular writer of ideal, romantic stories – painting illusions of true love and companionship - the kind that women find fascinating but would hardly capture the attention of a man.

The story

The storyline is weaved around a tragic accident with Simon. He becomes the victim of a merciless attack, inside his own home, by some hooligan friends of his model. This not only leaves his face scarred beyond recognition but also unsettles his life. The resulting medical expenses leave him bankrupt. He will have to give up his apartment and studio. That man’s fortunes hit so low that even his own dog ignores him. Caroll is, also, unable to afford a decent treatment for her son’s asthma and allergy condition – he is literally incapacitated. She is frustrated, bitter and tired.

Udall falls in love with Caroll. He becomes a nicer person. The sarcasm and meanness withdraw from his personality. He becomes friends with Simon. He, also, does something spectacular for Caroll and her son. These three people find companionship, support and love in each other. And live happily ever after.

Thoughts

But, as I see it, life is not so easy. When you are in trouble, when you are losing hope, there is no Udall. Life is, at times, unbearable. Suffering is an unavoidable part of our lives. Your worst fears come true. We are all, anyways, doomed.

To Be or Not To Be

I know that the title is very much a cliché, but it is always so much easier to give in to the temptation of using one, rather than racking your brains over trying to create something original – knowing all the time that you will hardly come up with something as brilliant. My friend, these clichés have survived through ages - this particular one having survived more than 200 years, ever since the great bard penned them down – because they have beautifully captured the right idea or emotion. Oh, but we digress from the point. So, what I was trying to tell you is this – I am, what you might call, a perennially and utterly confused person. I have found myself bouncing back and forth, like a shuttlecock, on almost every trivial matter that one could possibly bounce back and forth upon. Several times, I have found myself in front of the mess refrigerator, pondering over the right drink to choose – one that would perfectly compliment the subzi of the day, or my mood, or for that matter even the weather. While grappling with the merits and demerits of a Pepsi and Coke, I would suddenly find myself lusting about a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, with just the right flavor – a little sweet and a little sour. After this period of indecision, I usually reach out for the drink closest at hand. Do not get me wrong, it is not these common frivolities alone, which occupy my time and energy. If you believe, I have moved my lazy posteriors, from the comfort of my cozy mattress, to this hard plastic chair just to write about the difficulties I face in choosing soft drinks, you are I am afraid to point out, completely off the mark.

The latest stimulus, which has caused my mind, to enter in to what it does best – bouncing back and forth – is the matter of…Well; do we need to go in to it? Some things are best left unsaid…..

The Elusive Bike Delivery

Now, Now, ..Don't you start haggling for a party at the mention of the words "Bike" and "Delivery". Yours truly, has of course not decided to abandon his faithful two stroke powerhouse - The Yamaha RX 135 for some pathetic contraption they call a four stroke motorcycle! And mind you, It is NOT that the bike that is having a delivery!

Its just that I had parceled the RX to Kozhikode (my home for the next two years) from Ahmedabad and the next logical step would be to "get the delivery" from the Kozhikode station's parcel office. Now, Why do I call it the "elusive" delivery you ask? Aaah! For that you'll have to take the trouble to read the entire post....

It was on the 12th day of the sixth month of the year 2006 (don't worry...just tryin to make it sound grand...) that I was to collect my bike from the parcel office of the Kozhikode Station. I asked a new found friend on the campus also named Aditya to accompany me to the station. He also had to collect his bike from the foot of the hill where we have our campus. We decided to ride on his bike to the railway station. Well, the roads here are pretty decent but unfortunately the traffic is not. The roads inspite of being decent are all confused. They don't go along in a straight line like our sensible city roads but choose to go up and down small hillocks twisting and turning. Crazy traffic and confused roads pack a dangerous concotation. Take my word for it. So as Aditya's Unicorn was blissfully chugging along a crowded city road without a care in the world, the bright red Indica just ahead of us decided to create some problems by braking hard for some wierd reasons. The result? We failed to respond and before you could say "Watch Out" both of us found ourselves flat on the road with the bike giving us company. As sudden as the accident, a swarm of helpfull people descended from nowhere. Someone's picking up the bike...the other is fetching the petrol bottle which shot from my hand at the moment of impact..Just the kind of thing you would expect in any corner of India. Makes me think how much alike we are inspite of the innumerable differences. Medically speaking, I was quite OK but poor Aditya J. was not so lucky. His nose was bleeding and his teeth and lips were soaked in the stuff. Quickly a rickshaw was summoned and both of us were packed off to the nearest hospital - The Baby Memorial Hospital. Well, I could just go on and on and on about how things turned up in the hospital but it all boils down to the fact the Aditya J. came out with a crepe bandadge on his right hand wrist and the promise of an intimidating root canal treatment on two of his front teeth. Of course, his gloomy face did crack up into a smile as soon as he realised that he has become the object of all the girls' sympathy...Just tells you how there's a ALWAYS a positive side...no matter what!! As you might have guessed, the bike delivery did not work out that day!

So off I am again to the parcel office with an almost naieve optimism. The thought of my dear RX languishing in the stinking godowns of the Railways was gnawing away on my heart. I took a Rickshaw with two other friends, dropping them en route and dismissing their offers to pay up right then and there. Finally, I find myself face to face with the office in question. The Rick-wala demands his fare. A cool Rs. 150/-. I wince in pain at the prospect of parting with this princely sum but there is no time to argue. Just a few minutes dear and I'll be right there with you...I had around a hundred and seventy bucks in my wallet. My heart is throbbing away....I follow a maze of directions to finally reach the Goods Delivery Office. I present the receipt. The clerk checks his register. Writes something in greek (or mallu?) in the n different columns....and asks me to pay Rs. 30/- as demurrage charges. Not a big deal, you say? Now if you quickly reach out for a calculator (if you are mathematically challenged like me) or do some mental maths you will figure out that 170 minus 150 leaves 20 which was the sum in my wallet at that given point of time. A shortfall of some 10 measly rupees which had positioned themselves like the stereotypical "baap of the ladki" whom we so often encounter in bollywood flicks. I begged. I pleaded. I appealed to the good senses of that railway clerk. I praised his mother, father, uncle, aunty...but to no avail....I could not succeed in moving his stone cold heart. Makes you wonder what the Railways does to turn up their clerks into such merciless monsters! After tolerating me for some 5 minutes, I was shooed away...

With a heavy heart, I shrink back...hands in my jeans pocket...face turned down...taking one step a minute. Everything looks sooo gloomy. But I hadn't lost the determination. I found myself doing the unthinkable. I cooly touched a man walking on the road for ten bucks! And he agreed. You will agree that I have an impressable record as a "bhikari"....One Target. One Bheekh.
I rush back to the delivery office with my feet hardly touching the ground below. The exhilaration of having turned a bleak situation upside down had left me in raptures. I present the required sum of Rs.30/- in the denomination of a ten rupee and five rupee note with the rest made up by assorted coins of 2 and 5 rupees. The Clerk equally determined to create all possible obstacles in the delivery of my RX raises a new issue - that of tipping the poor porters who had so laboriously unloaded the RX from the train. At that moment I realised what Gandhi, Nehru and company must have felt during their negotations with the British. There comes a time in every man's life when the proverbial paani sir se upar chad jaata hai and if there ever was such a time in my life it was right there and then! I put my foot down and told him to go to hell and boil his head taking his damned porters along with him or something to that effect. It worked and I saw that this same Railways Clerks who looked like Aurangzeb's first cousin melt before my very eyes revealing the vulnerability of humans to the force of iron wills. He quietly made out the gate pass and handed it to me with a meek smile on his face.
With a few minor hiccups because of the negligible quantity of petrol being addressed, I found myself some time later lying down in my room with the smuggest smile on my face, truly content with the knowledge that my baby is safe and comfy in her new new home - the A hostel parking.

Travel, monsoon and mommy dear!

I have been called for the preparatory course by IIM-K and it is starting from the 12th of June. My railway tickets have already been done but some mischevious elements have made my mom believe that with the torrential monsoons of the Konkan, the trains are likely to get delayed by days and days....and then what would her poor darling sonny do? What if the pantry runs out of supplies?
So most likely her koochi-poo will have to fly down to calicut....Hey! Don't take it as a negative post against my mother....She is very sweet and lovely....but only takes a little more stress about these teeny weeny things than she should :-)

C'est la vie!

Here I was, all disappointed and frustu with life. No hopes of IIMK conversion....had heard nothing from TCS....and just out of the blue I get a final call from IIMK!! and TCS calls me for training from 25th April.....all on the same day... But its very obvious that I am going to join IIMK!
I guess this is what life is all about....
You have to see this photo blog of IIMK- Taste of Heaven
Its divine!!