Posts Tagged ‘education’

DONKEY LANGUAGE

March 2, 2011

DONKEY LANGUAGE.

 

 

HOW TO TEACH A DONKEY TO READ
A Teaching Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

 

This morning while taking my pet dog Sherry for her morning walk in the fields of Wakad I saw a few donkeys and recalled this story:

A wise man, a renowned teacher, once publicly vowed that he would eradicate illiteracy and he would teach everyone to read.

Some mischievous boys brought a donkey to the teacher and asked him if he could teach the donkey to read.

The wise teacher stunned the students by taking up the challenge and said, “Give me the donkey for a month and I will teach it to read.”

The teacher went home and began to train his donkey to read.

At first he put the donkey into the stable and gave him no food for some days.

Then he found a thick book and put some food between the pages.

In the beginning the teacher turned the pages and gave the donkey the food between the pages.

After a while the donkey learnt to turn the pages with his tongue to find and eat the food by itself.

Each time when the donkey finished the book and found no more food between the pages it would bray: “Eee aah… Eee aah…Eee aah…”

Then the teacher would reward the donkey with some food.

Three days before the one month period was over the teacher stopped feeding the donkey.

For three full days he did not feed the donkey.

The poor starved and famished donkey, after fasting for three days without a morsel of food, was voraciously hungry.

On the fateful day when the whole school assembled to see the miracle of the donkey reading.

The wise teacher brought the ravenously hungry donkey onto the stage.

He asked for a big book and put it in front of the donkey.

The hungry donkey turned the first page of the book with its tongue and when it could not find any food the donkey brayed: “Eee aah… Eee aah…”

Then the donkey turned one more page, and again not finding any food, it cried: “Eee aah… Eee aah…”

The famished donkey kept turning the pages of the book one by one with its tongue and when it could not find any food between the pages its braying grew louder and louder and soon the hapless donkey was turning the pages and shrieking in a loud voice: “Eee aah… Eee aah…” till it reached a crescendo.

Proud of his achievement the wise teacher gave a said to the gathering: “You all have seen that the donkey has turned the pages of the book and he read it.”

One of the naughty students asked: “But we could not understand anything.”

The wise teacher replied: “Of course you could not understand what the donkey read because it was donkey language. In order to understand it you have to learn donkey language. Come to me for tuition in the evening. I will teach you donkey language.”

Moral of the Story


If you want to communicate with a “donkey”, you have to learn “donkey language”.

VIKRAM KARVE

PS – I always remember this story while training my pet dog Sherry. In fact, not only have I learnt her “dog language” but I have taught her my “human language” too.

Yes, I will tell you how I did it sometime later in my blog.

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

ARE YOU A CRACKED POT ?

February 16, 2011

ARE YOU A CRACKED POT ?.

WINNERS AND LOSERS

A Teaching Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Let me tell you one of my favourite teaching stories.
This one is for parents, teachers, mentors… especially those who want to achieve their unfulfilled, unrealised and unrealistic ambitions vicariously through their children and protégés and hence put a lot of pressure and drive the poor kids, overwhelm them with high expectations…and everyone wants their kids to stand first (winner takes all and loser is left standing small philosophy).
This story is also for those perfectionists, at the workplace and at home, who expect everyone to be perfect like themselves and this quest for perfection makes everyone’s life hell…
Most importantly, this story is for you and me, for all of us, who want to be winners…
Read on…the story of the cracked pot…
A water bearer had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck.
One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.
At the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot always arrived only half full.
For two years this went on daily, with the water bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master’s house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, fulfilled in the design for which it was made.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was unable to accomplish what it had been made to do.
After two years of enduring this bitter shame, the contrite cracked pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream, “I am ashamed of myself and I apologize to you.”
“Why are you feeling so guilty, so penitent, so repentant …?” the water bearer asked the sad cracked pot, “Tell me, dear pot, what is it that you are so ashamed of…?”
“I feel sorry that for these past two years I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do extra work and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said full of remorse.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and was consoled somewhat.
But at the end of the trail, the cracked pot still felt remorse, shame and a feeling of guilt because it had leaked out half its water load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the cracked pot, “Did you not notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, and not on the other pot’s side…? That is because I have always known about your flaw and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we’ve walked back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty, these lovely flowers, to grace his house.”

Moral of the Story:
There are no winners and there are no losers – everyone is a winner in his or her own way. Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots. But it is the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You’ve just got to take each person for what and who they are, and look for the good in them – most importantly, we must look for the winner within us, maybe hiding deep inside our own selves. If you intrespect you will realize that you are a winner in your own way so don’t compare with others and don’t pay too much heed to what other people say.
There is one more thing I want to say.
Most of us seem too self-conscious about our weaknesses and spend too much energy and resources in the process of trying to correct our imperfections and we tend to take for granted our good qualities, our plus points and postitive features, our skills and talents, our forte and strong points, and we hence neglect our strength while focussing on improving our weaknesses and shortcomings.
Why not forget our weaknesses, our imperfections, and focus all our resources on improving our strong points…?
If you study the biographies of great persons you will realize that this had been their leitmotif. They just ignore their frailties and concentrate all their efforts on enhancing and bettering their strong points, their forte, and achieve great heights…so that’s the way to excellence – nourish your qualities and ignore your weaknesses and be a winner…it works…you can take my word for it…
Constantly worrying about your faults and weaknesses and expending your internal resources and focussing your entire effort trying to rectify your shortcomings will physically sap you, drain your emotional energy and demoralize you since you will never be able to achieve the desired results, whereas working on improving your strengths and positive points will fill you with zest and enthusiasm since you will always enjoy working on something you are good at and something you like doing and so even the results are sure to be encouraging and this will further raise your morale and fill you with cheer. One always enjoys doing what one is good at and the results will be excellent too. On the contrary one is likely to become fatigued and disheartened doing something one is not good at (and something one does not like) since in such cases the results will not be commensurate with the efforts and resources expended.
First, introspect and identify your strengths and weaknesses. Then you must accept your weaknesses as they are and forget about them and instead concentrate all your efforts on reinforcing, enhancing and boosting your strengths. It is not worth it to waste your energies and resources on your shortcomings.
Try it this approach. Just focus on your strengths and forget about your weaknesses and see the results for yourself. You can be a winner, as you are, wherever you are, with whatever qualities you have got.
All the Best
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop’s School Pune, is an Electronics and Communications Engineer by profession, a Human Resource Manager and Trainer by occupation, a Teacher by vocation, a Creative Writer by inclination and a Foodie by passion. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. His delicious foodie blogs have been compiled in a book “Appetite for a Stroll”. A collection of his short stories about relationships titled COCKTAIL is being published soon and Vikram is currently busy writing his first novel and with teaching and training assignments. Vikram lives in Pune with his family and his muse – his pet Doberman girl Sherry, with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog : http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:
http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile of Vikram Karve:

vikramkarve@sify.com
Foodie Book:

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Vikram Karve : COCKTAIL – Short Stories about Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE

February 12, 2011

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: COCKTAIL – Short Stories about Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE.

 

COCKTAIL – Short Stories about Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE

Dear Fellow Bloggers and Friends,
My book titled COCKTAIL – a collection of my fiction short stories is about to be published soon. I will let all of you know the moment it is ready and about the launch. I look forward to your patronage and encouragement. Here is the backcover blurb
Relationships are like cocktails.
Every relationship is a unique labyrinthine melange of emotions, shaken and stirred, and, like each cocktail, has a distinctive flavour and taste.
The twenty-seven stories in this collection explore fascinating aspects of modern day relationships – love, romance, sex, betrayal, marriage, parenting and even pet parenting.
You will relish reading these riveting cocktails of emotions narrated in easy engaging style and once you start reading you will find this delicious “cocktail” unputdownable.
Wish me luck
Vikram Karve
VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop’s School Pune, is an Electronics and Communications Engineer by profession, a Human Resource Manager and Trainer by occupation, a Teacher by vocation, a Creative Writer by inclination and a Foodie by passion. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. He has written a foodie book Appetite For A Stroll and a book of fiction short stories COCKTAIL which is being published soon and is currently busy writing his first novel. Vikram lives in Pune with his family and pet Doberman girl Sherry, with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile of Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Creative Writing by Vikram Karve: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm

http://shopping.sify.com/appetiteforastroll-vikram-karve/books/9788190690096.htm

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?pages#!/pages/Cocktail-by-Vikram-Karve-APK-Publishers/177873552253247

Gift of Insults – Food for Thought

November 6, 2009

THE GIFT OF INSULTS

 

Ancient Wisdom

 

An Inspirational Story

 

By

 

VIKRAM KARVE

 

 

 

Now-a-days many persons, especially young people, are very touchy and hypersensitive to what others say.

 

Here is one of my favorite stories to mull over.

 

 

There was once a great warrior. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him. Though quite old, he still adept at martial arts and, despite his age, the legend was that he could defeat any adversary.

 

One afternoon, a young warrior, known for his complete lack of scruples, arrived in the village.

 

The young warrior had never lost a fight.

 

Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.  

 

The young warrior had heard of the old master’s reputation was determined to be the first man to defeat the till then invincible great master.
The brash young warrior challenged the old master to a fight. Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior’s challenge.

 

All villagers eagerly gathered in the village square to witness the bout.

 

As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. The young warrior threw dirt and spat in the master’s face and tried his utmost to goad and incite the master to make the first move.

 

But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm.

 

For hours the young warrior provoked the master. He verbally abused the master with every curse and insult known to mankind and even insulted the master’s ancestors, but the old man kept smiling and remained impassive.

 

Finally, as the sun started setting, the young warrior started feeling exhausted and humiliated. Gradually comprehension dawned on the young warrior and he knew that he was defeated so he bowed before the master and feeling shamed he left the village.

 

Disappointed that the master had received so many insults and provocations, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him, “How could you bear such indignity?  Why didn’t you use your sword and fight the insolent youth? It would have been better if you lost the fight instead of displaying such cowardice in front of us all?”

 

“If someone comes to you with a gift, and you do not accept it, to whom does the gift belong?” asked the master.

 

“To the giver, the one who tried to give the gift,” replied one of his students.

 

“The same goes for envy, anger and insults,” said the master, “If you do not accept the gift of insults, they continue to belong to the one who deliver them!”

 

 

Dear Reader, I am sure you have read this famous story before. Now let us apply it in our daily life.

 

 

VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

 

 

 

MONKEY TRAP

August 22, 2009

ARE YOU A MONKEY IN A TRAP

[Short Fiction]

By

VIKRAM KARVE

“And what are we doing tomorrow?” I asked my uncle.

“Let’s catch some monkeys,” he said.

“Monkeys?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes,” my uncle said and smiled,” And if you catch one you can take him home as a pet.”

“A monkey! As a pet?” I asked in astonishment.

“Why not?” my uncle said.

“But monkeys? Aren’t they dangerous?” I asked.

“The monkeys here are quite small and very cute. And once you train them, they become very friendly and obedient – ideal pets.”

And so, next morning, at the crack of dawn we sailed off from Haddo Wharf in Port Blair in a large motorboat. Soon we were crossing the Duncan Passage, moving due south; the densely forested Little Andaman Island to our right, the sea calm like a mirror.

I began to feel seasick, so I stood on the foc’sle deck, right at the front end sea-sick, enjoying the refreshing sea-spray, occasionally tasting my salty lips.

I looked in admiration, almost in awe, at uncle who stood rock-steady on the bridge, truly a majestic figure. He signaled to me and I rushed up to the bridge.

“Vijay, it’s time to prepare the Monkey Traps,” he said.

“Monkey-Traps?” I asked confused.

“Tito will show you,” he said. “You must learn to make them yourself.”

Tito, my uncle’s odd-job-man, was sitting on the deck, seaman’s knife in hand, amidst a heap of green coconuts. He punctured a coconut, put it to his lips, drank the coconut water, and then began scooping out a small hollow. I took out my seaman’s knife and joined in enthusiastically with the other coconuts. The coconut water tasted sweet.

“Keep the hole small,” my uncle shouted over my shoulder, “and hollow the coconut well.”

“But how will we catch monkeys with this?” I asked.

“You will see in the evening,” he said. “Now get on with the job.”

We reached a densely forested island at five in the evening.

It was almost dark. The sun sets early in these eastern longitudes.

And soon we set up our monkey-traps.

Each hollowed-out coconut was filled with a mixture of boiled rice and jaggery (gur) through the small hole. Then the coconut was chained to a stake, which was driven firmly into the ground.

And then we hid in the bushes in pin-drop silence.

Suddenly there was rattling sound. My uncle switched on his torch.

A monkey was struggling, one hand trapped inside the coconut. In an instant, Tito threw a gunny-bag over the monkey and within minutes we had the monkey nicely secured inside.

By the time we lit the campfire on the cool soft sands of the beach, we had captured three monkeys.

My uncle put his arm around my shoulder and, “Vijay, you know why the monkey gets trapped? The monkey gets trapped because of its greed.”

He picked up a hollowed-out coconut and said, “Look at this hole. It is just big enough so that the monkey’s hand can go in, but too small for full fist filled with rice to come out. Because his greed won’t allow him to let go of the rice and take out his hand, the monkey remains trapped, a victim of his own greed, until he is captured; forever a captive of his greed.”

“The monkey cannot see that freedom without rice is more valuable that capture with it!” he said.

My uncle looked at Tito and commanded, “Free the monkeys.” And, one by one, the monkeys jumped out of their gunny bags and started running, with one hand still stuck in a coconut. It was a really funny sight.

“There is a lesson for us to learn from this,” my uncle said. “That’s why I brought you here to show you all this.”

I looked at my uncle. His name was Ranjit Singh. And true to his name he was indeed a magnificent man! Over six feet tall, well-built, redoubtable; a truly striking personality! He stood erect in his khaki uniform, stroking his handsome beard with his left hand, his right hand gripping a swagger stick, which he gently tapped on his thigh.

As he surveyed the scenic surroundings – the moonlight sea, the swaying Causarina trees, the silver sands of the beach in between – he looked majestic, like a king cherishing his domain. Indeed he was like a king here – after all he was the Chief Forest Officer, in-charge of the entire islands – and this was his domain.

Uncle Ranjit was an exception in our family—the odd-man out. My father always said that he was the most intelligent of all brothers. But whereas all of them were busy earning money in Mumbai and Delhi, uncle Ranjit had chosen to be different.

To the surprise of everybody else, uncle Ranjit had joined the Forest Service when he could have easily become an engineer, doctor or even a business executive, for he had always topped all examinations – first class first in merit, whether it be the school or the university.

“So, Vijay, you like it here?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, uncle,” I answered. “And thank you so much for the lovely holiday, spending so much time with me. In Mumbai no one has any time for me. I feel so lonely.”

“Why?” he asked, with curiosity.

“Mummy and Daddy both come late from office. Then there are parties, business dinners, and tours. And on Sundays they sleep, exhausted, unless there is a business-meeting in the club or golf with the boss.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “Ha. Ha. The Monkey Trap. They are all caught in monkey traps of their own making. Slaves of their greed! Trapped by their desires,caught in the rat race, wallowing in their golden cages, rattling their jewellery, their golden chains – monkey-trapped, all of them, isn’t it?”

As I thought over Ranjit uncle’s words I realized how right he was. Most of the people I knew in Mumbai were just like that – trapped by their greed, chasing rainbows, in search of an ever elusive happiness.

“Happiness is to like what you do as well as to do what you like,” uncle Ranjit said, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Happiness is not a station which never arrives, but the manner you travel in life.” He paused, and asked me, “Tell me Vijay, tell me, what do you want to do in life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Vijay. You are fifteen now. By next year you have to decide, tell me what your plans are.”

“It depends on my percentage,” I said truthfully.

“I am sure you will get around ninety percent marks in your board exams,” he said. “Assume you top the exams. Secure a place in the merit list. Then what will you do?”

“I’ll go in for Engineering. Computers, Software, IT,” I said.

“Computers? Software? IT? Why? Why not something more interesting – like Arts, Literature, Philosophy, History, Humanities?” he asked.

“Job prospects,” I answered.

“Oh!”  He exclaimed. “And then?”

“Management. Or I may even go abroad for higher studies.”

“Why?”

“Qualifications.”

“And why do you want so many qualifications?”

“To get the best job,” I answered.

“And earn a lot of money?” uncle Ranjit prompted.

“Of course,” I said. “I want to earn plenty of money so that I can enjoy life.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “My dear Vijay. Aren’t you enjoying life right now, at this very moment? What about me? Am I am not enjoying life? Remember – if you do not find happiness as you are, where you are, you will never find it.”

He smiled and asked,” Vijay, you know what Maxim Gorky once said?

“What?”

“When work is a pleasure, life is a joy.

When work is a duty, life is slavery.”

“Slavery!” I exclaimed, understanding the message he was trying to give me. “Slavery to one’s elusive desires, one’s greed. Just like the Monkey Trap.”

“The Monkey Trap!” we both said in unison, in chorus.

It was the defining moment in my life – my Minerva Moment!

And so, I decided to do what I wanted to experience an inner freedom.

And guess what I am today?

Well, I am a teacher. I teach philosophy.

And let me tell you I enjoy every moment of it. It’s a life of sheer joy and delight – being with my students, their respect and adulation, my innate quest for knowledge and a sense of achievement that I am contributing my bit to society.

I shall never forget uncle Ranjit and that crucial visit to the forests of the Andamans, the turning point, or indeed the defining moment, of my life.

Dear Readers (especially my young friends on the verge choosing a career) – whenever you reach the crossroads of your life, and have to make the crucial decision of how you would like to live your life [selecting a career, life-partner, a house, a place to stay – any life-decision]; think, be careful, listen to your inner voice, and be careful not to trapped in a ‘Monkey-Trap’!

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

vikramkarve@sify.com

vikramkarve@hotmail.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

LPO – THE ART OF OUTSOURCING

July 11, 2009

ART OF OUTSOURCING 

by 

VIKRAM KARVE 


Short Fiction – On of my favourite stories, revisited  

 

One leisurely morning, while I am loafing on Main Street, in Pune, I meet an old friend of mine.   

“Hi!” I say.  

“Hi,” he says, “where to?”   

“Aimless loitering,” I say, “And you?”   

“I’m going to work.”   

“Work? This early? I thought your shift starts in the evening, or late at night. You work at a call center don’t you?”   

“Not now. I quit. I’m on my own now.”   

“On your own? What do you do?”   

“LPO.”   

“LPO? What’s that?”   

“Life Process Outsourcing.”   

“Life Process Outsourcing? Never heard of it!”   

“You’ve heard of Business Process Outsourcing haven’t you?”   

“BPO? Outsourcing non-core business activities and functions?”   

“Precisely. LPO is similar to BPO. There it’s Business Processes that are outsourced, here it’s Life Processes.”   

“Life Processes? Outsourced?”  

“Why don’t you come along with me? I’ll show you.”   

Soon we are in his office. It looks like a mini call center.   

A young attractive girl welcomes us. “Meet Rita, my Manager,” my friend says, and introduces us.   

Rita looks distraught, and says to my friend, “I’m not feeling well. Must be viral fever.”  

“No problem. My friend here will stand in.”   

“What? I don’t have a clue about all this LPO thing!” I protest.  

“There’s nothing like learning on the job! Rita will show you.”   

“It’s simple,” Rita says, in a hurry. “See the console. You just press the appropriate switch and route the call to the appropriate person or agency.”

And with these words Rita disappears. It’s the shortest induction training I have ever had in my life.   

And so I plunge into the world of Life Process Outsourcing; or LPO as they call it.  

It’s all very simple.

Everyone is busy. Working people don’t seem to have time these days, but they have lots of money; especially those double income couples, IT nerds, MBA hot shots, finance wizards; just about everybody running desperately in the modern rat race.
 
So what do they do? Simple. They ‘outsource’!

‘Non-core Life Activities’, for which you neither have the inclination or the time – you just outsource them; so you can maximize your work-time to rake in the money and make a fast climb up the ladder of success. 

A ring, a flash on the console infront of me and I take my first LPO call.  

“My daughter’s puked in her school. They want someone to pick her up and take her home. I’m busy in a shoot and just can’t leave,” a creative ad agency type with a husky voice says.    

“Why don’t you tell your husband?” I suggest.   

“Are you crazy or something? I’m a single mother.”   

“Sorry ma’am. I didn’t know. My sympathies and condolences.”  

 “Condolences? Who’s this? Is this LPO?”   

“Yes ma’am,” I say, press the button marked ‘children’ and transfer the call, hoping I have made the right choice. Maybe I should have pressed ‘doctor’.  

 Nothing happens for the next few moments. I breathe a sigh of relief.   

A yuppie wants his grandmother to be taken to a movie. I press the ‘movies’ button. ‘Movies’ transfers the call back, “Hey, this is for movie tickets; try ‘escort services’. He wants the old hag escorted to the movies.”   

‘Escort Services’ are in high demand. These guys and girls, slogging in their offices minting money, want escort services for their kith and kin for various non-core family processes like shopping, movies, eating out, sight seeing, marriages, funerals, all types of functions; even going to art galleries, book fairs, exhibitions, zoos, museums or even a walk in the nearby garden.   

A father wants someone to read bedtime stories to his small son while he works late. A busy couple wants proxy stand-in ‘parents’ at the school PTA meeting. An investment banker rings up from Singapore; he wants his mother to be taken to pray in a temple at a certain time on a specific day. 

Someone wants his kids to be taken for a swim, brunch, a play and browsing books and music.   

A sweet-voiced IT project manager wants someone to motivate and pep-talk her husband, who’s been recently sacked, and is cribbing away at home demoralized. He desperately needs someone to talk to, unburden himself, but the wife is busy – she neither has the time nor the inclination to take a few days off to boost the morale of her depressed husband when there are deadlines to be met at work and so much is at stake.   

The things they want outsourced range from the mundane to the bizarre; life processes that one earlier enjoyed and took pride in doing or did as one’s sacred duty are considered ‘non-core life activities’ now-a-days by these highfalutin people.   

At the end of the day I feel illuminated on this novel concept of Life Process Outsourcing, and I am about to leave, when suddenly a call comes in.   

“LPO?” a man asks softly.   

“Yes, this is LPO. May I help you?” I say.   

“I’m speaking from Frankfurt Airport. I really don’t know if I can ask this?” he says nervously.   

“Please go ahead and feel free to ask anything you desire, Sir. We do everything.”   

“Everything?”   

“Yes, Sir. Anything and everything!” I say.   

“I don’t know how to say this. This is the first time I’m asking. You see, I am working 24/7 on an important project for the last few months. I’m globetrotting abroad and can’t make it there. Can you please arrange for someone suitable to take my wife out to the New Year’s Eve Dance?”   

I am taken aback but quickly recover, “Yes, Sir.”   

“Please send someone really good, an excellent dancer, and make sure she enjoys and has a good time. She loves dancing and I just haven’t had the time.”   

“Of course, Sir.”   

“And I told you – I’ve been away abroad for quite some time now and I’ve got to stay out here till I complete the project.”   

“I know. Work takes top priority.”   

“My wife. She’s been lonely. She desperately needs some love. Do you have someone with a loving and caring nature who can give her some love? I just don’t have the time. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”   

I let the words sink in. This is one call I am not going to transfer. “Please give me the details, Sir,” I say softly into the mike.  

As I walk towards my destination with a spring in my step, I feel truly enlightened.    

Till this moment, I never knew that ‘love’ was a ‘non-core’ ‘life-process’ worthy of outsourcing.  

Long Live LPO

Life Process Outsourcing


Love Process Outsourcing

Call it what you like, but I’m sure you’ve got the essence of outsourcing. 

 

VIKRAM KARVE 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

 

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