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Archive for the ‘What ho!’ Category

P G Wodehouse was born on the 15th of October, 1881. Every year, his fans celebrate his birth anniversary with traditional fervour and gaiety. This year was no exception.

Some went out and rummaged through book stores, virtual or otherwise, to buy yet another book of his. The idea was to try to fill in the gaping holes in their priceless collections. In keeping with the current trends, shelfies got clicked and shared over social media. Others simply curled up in bed and re-read for the n-th time a work of his, a tissue restorative on their side.

Some burrowed deep into his works and came up with some lesser known compositions of his. Some paid rich tributes by sharing other details about the author and his life. Yet others came up with juicy posts on the occasion.

Here are some of the posts the residents of Plumsville may relish, arranged in an alphabetic manner, as per their names.

Arunabha Sengupta
http://www.cricketcountry.com/articles/wodehouse-at-the-wicket-the-cricketing-connections-of-the-legendary-writer-18805

Honoria Glossop
https://honoriaplum.wordpress.com/2016/10/11/the-birth-of-p-g-wodehouse-and-sherlock-holmes

Morten Arnesen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbiwROt0yL8

Ragini Sgh
BELATED BIRTHDAY WISHES, DEAR PGW

Ancestors,forefathers, the whole clan
Woven into an exquisite web with élan,

Romantic exploits or schemes absurd
Beautifully penned, enriched by each word,

Mundane chatter or complicated plots
Skillfully tied in bouquets of forget me nots,

Whether it’s Gussie or Lord Emsworth
Their anecdotes bring warmth like a crackling hearth,

Aunt Dahlia’s exuberance or Uncle Tom’s generosity
Can be matched by Gally’s wit or Jeeves’s spontaneity,

The maudlin soppy Madeline often a pain
Her tear drops beautifully knitted in God’s Daisy chain,

Bertie’s simplicity and sheer goofiness
Always landing him in an inextricable mess,

But the master wields his pen with panache and ease
Sailing along like a will O wisp in the breeze,

A belated Happy Birthday to the inimitable P.G.W !

Shiva Kumar
I HAD A PLUM TO-DAY

I got a book, it came as a gift,
It picked me up, gave me a lift.

I’ll immerse myself in every page,
Go back in time, to a happier age.

I find myself a cosy nook,
Sit back, open my book.

Page one produces a broad smile,
I move on to two, and ponder awhile;

Page three draws from me a snort,
Someone’s already plotting a plot!

They are scheming like the dickens;
As I turn the pages, the plot thickens.

This devious planning is making me laugh,
I shake in my chair and almost fall off.

There’s a chap and there’s his butler,
There’s a planner and a plan scuttler.

Aunts pop in, here and there
Embellishing the story, as it were.

Telegrams fly, to and fro, thick and fast
I am thinking this is too good, will it last?

Page fifty, and I’m wiping the tears,
I haven’t laughed so much in years.

Is it me, rumbling with mirth,
Or just a tremor in the earth?

The book’s a riot, too funny to handle,
It’s become dark, I will need a candle

Night has fallen; I too fell, many times
Picked myself up, ignored the chimes

I’ll finish the book, come what may
I’ll try not to fall off again, I’ll stay.

I’m chuckling away into the night
When I finish the book it’s first light

Ah! I can happily get back to the old grind
After all I had a Plum to elevate the mind!

As a part of the global celebrations, two Wodehousean fans, hailing from two different continents, decided to meet up for a cosy chat over high tea in a British style quaint little restaurant in Norway. But more about that later.

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/02/16/fondly-remembering-plum

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/20/a-drones-club-meeting-at-vollen-in-Norway)

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How fortunate we happen to be! If Plum had abandoned dishing out humorous escapades of all sizes and shapes, and instead turned to crime fiction, the universe we live in would have become so very listless and mirthless.

Here is yet another delectable post from Honoria Glossop.

Yet another post you may wish to check out: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/05/28/sherlock-holmes-the-honorary-citizen-of-meiringen-switzerland

Honoria Plum's avatarPlumtopia

Strand pagetPGW quoted this famous character from his third book up to his ninety-third and had a tremendous admiration for Arthur Conan Doyle.

N.T.P. Murphy, A Wodehouse Handbook

On the 15th of October, 1881, P.G. Wodehouse was born in Guildford , England.

Coincidentally, 1881 was also the year in which Dr. John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes. Their meeting was recounted by Arthur Conan Doyle in the first Sherlock Holmes story, A Study in Scarlet (1887).

Some years later, the young Wodehouse became an avid reader of these stories, and his early work is littered with Holmesian references.  In The Adventure of the Split Infinitive , a 1902 short story published in ‘Public School Magazine’, Wodehouse sends Mr. Burdock Rose and his companion Dr. Wotsing to investigate a murder at St. Asterisk’s school.

“Anyone suspected?” I asked.

“I was coming to that. One of the Form, Vanderpoop by name, under…

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The gang of twenty-five wannabe managers, when it entered the not-so-hallowed precincts of the University Business School of Panjab University, Chandigarh in the year 1974, was clueless as to the effective use to which the power of music could be put to practice the art of managing people.

Much later in their careers, some members of the gang might have woken up to the immense potential of healthy musical practices when it came to surviving in the corporate jungle. Some would have soared higher whistling the tune that their bosses wanted to hear from them. Others would have become great leaders based on the results their teams produced, much like an orchestra gets led by a conductor to produce mellifluous symphonies.HIS MASTER’S VOICE

Some might have perfected the art of phasing out dissent from their team members by the sheer power of their vocal chords, not alike the way even soulful lyrics get drowned by loud music in some of our best movies these days. Others might have formed a Mutual Appreciation Team by bonding with like-minded colleagues, much like a group of star artistes who transcend man-made borders to come up with their own brand of fusion music.

When faced with a challenging task, an informal chat, especially when conducted in the presence of appropriate tissue restoratives, duly backed by some soothing music playing in the background, often helps.

Discovering the Music Society

Two members of the gang, however, stood out. Having spent much of their previous years in understanding and memorizing basic principles of Physics and Chemical Engineering, a course in business administration gave their grey cells some well-deserved breathing time. Soon, they discovered the presence of a Music Society on the campus. Prompted by another musical soul from the 1973-75 batch, they joined the music classes on offer.Chandigarh Music Society 7

One aspired to learn playing the sarangi, while another, yours truly, weakly attempted to master the art of playing a guitar. Friends and critics obviously had their doubts on the efficacy of our musical endeavours. Luckily, they were too busy with their own lives to continue to watch our progress with any interest whatsoever.Chandigarh Music Society 2

On a personal note

Allow me to digress a wee bit and divulge that since childhood, my parents had repeatedly failed in their attempts to get me trained in classical vocal music. Subsequently, a banjo was gifted, in the fond hope that I might make something out of it. Alas, that too was not to be. Since there was no Wodehousean kid character like Edwin around, using paraffin sprays to douse fires, the instrument never went up in flames. It merely got lost in the rapids of time.

Eventually, my parents gave up and resigned to my limited capability of belting out some movie songs at birthday parties and some social events.

The original singers of most of these compositions were such stalwarts as Hemant Kumar, Talat Mehmood, Rafi sahib and Kishore Kumar. Luckily enough, none of my attempts to copy them ever reached their ears. Had a calamity of that nature come about, they would still be found shuddering in their graves.

My crude attempts at singing were carefully planned at such locations where donkeys could not have ready access. This way, I avoided the risk of a bunch of them joining me in unison, overjoyed at having finally found a brother-in-notes amongst the Homo Sapiens.MBA 1976

Treks to Kasauli and nocturnal visits to Morni hills nearby provided several other opportunities for me to display my singular lack of vocal skills. I still admire the tenacity and politeness of some of my hapless batch mates who not only tolerated but also applauded such renderings.

The sound of musicChandigarh Music Society 5

The association with Music Society added some colour and spice to the otherwise staid life on the campus. The members were drawn from different departments of the University. During 1975-76, the group even decided to confer on yours truly the title of Chairman, though I still wonder what I had done to deserve the honour.Chandigarh Music Society 4

Two events readily spring to my memory. One was a grand cultural show, where Mrs. Bimla Paul, wife of the then Vice Chancellor of the University, accepted our invitation to be the Chief Guest. The show was named ‘Swar Gunjan’. It was held at the University Auditorium.Chandigarh Music Society 3

Some members performed a Tibetan Yak dance. My batch mate and I, more busy coordinating the back-stage gaffes and on-stage slip-ups, were part of a group which presented an instrumental version of an old song ‘Aayega aane wala…..’ from the movie ‘Mahal’.Chandigarh Music Society 1

Yet another highlight was a bloomer in the shape of a post-card handwritten invitation sent to the inimitable Amjad Ali Khan sahib, requesting him to play at the University. After some time, surely despite our invitation, he did come over to the city and performed at the auditorium of PGI, right opposite the University Campus. Needless to say, that was a veritable treat.Ustad Amjad Ali Khan

A tool for enriching our lives

Looking back, the key lesson was the importance of indulging in extra-curricular escapades in that unique phase of life. It broke the monotonous tyranny of a class room instruction. It came across as an instructive experience which broadened one’s mental horizons and provided one with a diverse group of people to interact with. One learnt the art of event management, a term which was not in vogue in those internet-less and smart-phone-less times.

One might not have learnt what exactly what one set out to learn, but the spin-offs have surely been a reward in themselves. Above all, a connection with music, howsoever tenuous, got reinforced.

Music is not only a food for the soul. It also nourishes our mind, cleansing it of all the negative toxins which dampen our performance. It enriches our lives in more ways than one. It helps us to have better interpersonal relations. It even helps budding managers and entrepreneurs to achieve their goals more efficiently!

(Related posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/01/the-class-of-1976-how-it-managed-to-get-suspended-for-a-week

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/11/01/the-class-of-1976-forging-the-lingering-bonds-of-friendship

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/music-food-for-the-soul)

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What ho!

PGWodehouse

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

Just a week to go for the birthday celebrations,

Some of you must be concluding your Plummy deliberations;

Whipping up some juicy anecdotes and posts,

Which can be read with much glee by the party hosts.

With doors shut, the brain firing on all twelve cylinders,

Time perhaps to pen down the life’s goofy blunders;

Creative juices sloshing about, a tissue restorative by your side,

Between us bosom pals, there is never a thing to hide.

There are no contests to be entered into, nor any prizes to be won,

Either with your brain or with your heart, just pen down a juicy one;

The soft inner glow of happiness is all that you would require,

A rainbow of adulation around your shoulders you will surely acquire.

(Relates post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/10/15/an-invitation-for-the-residents-of-plumsville)

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The gang of twenty-five wannabe managers which had entered the not-so-hallowed portals of UBS* in the year 1974 had only one regret. Fate had not been kind to it. Gender diversity had taken a toss. None of the members were from the tribe of the delicately nurtured. The batch senior to them did boast of a few, but none who would put a Venus to shame. A sense of melancholy pervaded. The roving eye, having roved, could at best console itself with brief encounters with some of the lotus-eyed females of the species on the campus either while visiting the Student Centre or when loitering around the campus.Panjab_University

The gang was blissfully unaware of the fact that an alumnus of Panjab University could become a sagacious, albeit reluctant, Prime Minister of India some thirty years down the road. Some of its members had vaguely heard of a keen and bright elocutionist from the Law Faculty, little realizing that she could be heading the Ministry of External Affairs some forty years into the future. Almost all had heard and seen the exploits of a rising theatre artiste, though none could guess that she could become a celebrity Bollywood artist in the years to come, and even a Member of Parliament from the City Beautiful. And, not to forget her future husband, who was then honing his acting skills, eventually getting recognized as one of the finest actors in Bollywood.

A sense of gloom and despondency

Few months into the session, an underlying sense of gloom and despondency could be discerned. The hostel food would turn to ashes in the mouth. Evening saunters down the Sector 15 market brought some solace, by way of pleasing either the palette or the eye. Nocturnal visits to the road side vendors dishing out greasy omelets opposite the PGI gate brought the only rays of sunshine into their lives. Most of the architectural and natural attractions of the city had been explored ad nauseam.MBA 1976

The not-so-United Colours of Academicians

By then, the tribe of UBS educationists had been thoroughly observed, studied and classified. The dominating ones invariably knew their stuff, but also knew that they knew the stuff. A stiff-upper-lip approach to all affairs, academic or otherwise, came to them naturally. The outpourings of their knowledge had to be listened to in rapt attention. Their razor-sharp eyes would invariably cast a supercilious gaze upon the hapless students seated meekly in front of them. Nerves of chilled steel were required to deal with them. Not surprisingly, they earned a deep respect, duly laced with acidic scorn. These were the types who represented stark authority and were thus deeply resented.

Then there were those at the other extreme. They would walk into a lecture hall hiding behind a huge stack of text books, as if to prove their thoroughness in the subject concerned. These were the defensive kinds who would deliver their sermons of knowledge in a sheepish manner. The studious coves of the gang, like yours truly, were invariably driven to study the subject on their own. Visits to the Department or the Central Library were thus prompted by intentions of a pious nature. Most others would be on back-slapping terms with them, trying to use their sense of humour to gain assignment marks.

Bang in the middle of this normal distribution curve of professorial skills fell those who not only knew their stuff but were also good communicators. They were revered, liked and admired by a vast majority of the members of the gang.

Shaking off the gloom and despondency

Come Diwali and some brainy, dashing and enterprising coves of the gang decided to take the matter in their hands and shake off this feeling of gloom and despondency. The rebel spirit held sway and a ‘time bomb’ was concocted, using an ‘agarbatti’ (incense stick) and a large size cracker. Several trial runs later, an impromptu device was perfected, so as to burst some twenty minutes into the class. Understandably, the target was one of the stiff-upper-lip category professors.

On the appointed day, the scheme was put in motion. The device, kept just outside one of the class room windows, went off a wee bit earlier than planned, perhaps surprising even the planners and the executors. Its loud bang broke not only a few glass panes but also the envelope of gloom which had come to surround the gang. A beetroot-red-faced professor walked out of the class room in a huff, not before casting an acid-spewing eye on the assembly of students, most of whom were twiddling their thumbs, trying to make sense of what had transpired.

Masters Thos, Seabury and Edwin, of Wodehousean fame, would have heartily approved. So would have Stiffy Byng and Bobby Wickham, if they had happened to be around.

Summons from the Chairman were not late in coming. The entire class trooped into the corridor outside the seat of power. Few privileged ones were called in and given a sharp dressing down.

The nuclear fall-out

That is how it came about that the whole class of 1976 was suspended for a week. Much rejoicing took place. Revenue of some movie halls registered a quantum jump during the week. Restaurants in the vicinity and elsewhere registered brisker business.

1975 and 1976 batches, UBS, Panjab University, Chandigarh

1975 and 1976 batches, UBS, Panjab University, Chandigarh

Some members of the gang whose parents lived not too far away went off to gorge on their mother’s exotic dishes. Those who had stern and disapproving fathers decided to spend their time quietly on the campus itself. Some openly complained as to why the perpetrators of the ‘crime’ did not plan something more elaborate, something that would have merited a longer period of suspension!

In the course of your own academic career, you might have had quite a few juicy experiences which broke the spell of monotony which a regular classroom routine often entails. If so, how about sharing it here?!

*Note: The term UBS stands for University Business School of Panjab University, Chandigrah.

(This post was subsequently reproduced at https://universitybusinessschool.wordpress.com/2020/07/10/the-class-of-1976-how-it-managed-to-get-suspended-for-a-week)

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2013/09/04/an-ode-to-our-teachers

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/the-class-of-1976-some-encounters-of-a-musical-kind

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/11/01/the-class-of-1976-forging-the-lingering-bonds-of-friendship

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/11/12/the-class-of-1976-some-pseudo-academic-pursuits

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/12/25/the-class-of-1990-how-ubs-prompted-sandeep-mann-to-learn-management-from-movies)

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You know the kind of disasters which strike you once in a while. JustBertie image when you feel that life is a bed of roses, God is in heaven, and all is well with the world, Fate sneaks up from the back. Your Guardian Angel decides to proceed on a vacation. The blow falls.

Two weeks earlier, Aunt Agatha had set in motion yet another of her mould-the-wastrel-Bertie programs. Having been forced to be affianced to Honoria Glossop for this period had been a trying experience.

With each day came the challenge of having to read at least fifty odd pages of serious literature, often followed by a visit to some frightful art gallery or the other. Being made to attend quite a few classical concerts proved to be a traumatic experience. I was left convinced that blokes like Beethoven, if I get one of the names right, should have been banished from the country.

Mere participation in such pursuits was not considered sufficient. The fact that I was expected to actively participate in serious discussions and prove my intellectual mettle had left me all of a twitter.

Each and every encounter with my spouse-to-be proved to be an experience which tried the soul. Romance was a distant dream. Instead, talks of an intellectual kind dominated the discourse, leaving me in a highly enfeebled condition.

Then, one quiet evening, when Honoria and I were seated in the lobby, sipping tea and relishing some delicious hors d’oeuvres dished out by Spenser, Aunt Agatha’s butler, the blow fell.

‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘I have been thinking about our life after we get married.’

‘Eh? Oh, that sounds great.’

‘I think that valet of yours has too much of a negative influence on you,’ said Honoria.

A cold hand clutched at my heart.

‘You need to get rid of him,’ she said as she looked at me sharply, as if trying to gauge my reaction.

‘Get rid of Jeeves, do you mean?!’ I gasped.

‘Yes. I don’t like him.’

‘But he does a fine job of managing things in my life, don’t you think so?’

pgw-images-2‘Dear, you might be paying him a handsome salary, but he is the one who calls all the shots. Was he not the one who sent you on a futile midnight bicycle trip once, looking for a door key which was already with him? I hear that he keeps dominating you even over such trivial matters as the colour of your ties and the kind of jackets and hats you need to wear.’ said Honoria defiantly.

I gaped at her much as a clueless newt would have gaped at its mother when reprimanded for having not done its school homework.

‘But, dear, he also manages the house so very well. Everything in its place, taking care of guests, planning for lavish luncheons and dinners and what not, if you know what I mean. A most amazing cove, I would say.’

‘What is there in managing a house?’ said Honoria, glancing at me in a challenging manner. ‘I think I have a better solution.’

‘Hmm….and what might that be?’ I said, hope of a reprieve from a calamity gently starting to fade.

‘I would say we should provide you with a valet bot, enabled by state-of-art Artificial Intelligence. Perhaps, we can locate a valet which operates on Artificial Super Intelligence. It would take care of all your needs, and shall never boss you over. Never would it hold the view that you are a person who is, well, mentally negligible,’ said Honoria with that unique glint of enthusiasm in her eyes which girls normally get when they believe they are on to a really hot idea.

I shuddered. I knew that matrimonial alliances do tend to demand a lot of sacrifice on one’s part, but a supreme sacrifice of this magnitude? For the rest of my life, would I now wake up in the mornings with a humanoid approaching me not with a silver tray but with an iPad instead? The mind boggled.

In her zest, Honoria continued with her futuristic vision.

‘Bertie,’ she said, ‘I would go to the extent of suggesting that we re-do your entire flat. Make it a Smart Flat, so to say. What do you think?’

‘Er…I say, eh, what do you mean?’

‘Ooh, Bertie! Can’t you see? You will have the latest gadgets at your

Rembrandt

Rembrandt

place. A giant TV screen which would softly descend from the ceiling, enabling you to read serious and meaningful literature at the flick of a button. It would be backed by the latest multimedia functions. In the dining room, we shall put a giant screen which will keep showing paintings of such stalwarts as Edward Munch, Pablo Picasso, Rembrandt and the like. The study would get converted into a small theatre where, after sumptuous dinners, we shall be able to watch recordings of classical concerts from all over the world. Your intellectual proficiency would improve in no time. Father would be so very pleased.’

I tottered. Before I could lodge a feeble protest, she continued to narrate her frightful plans.

‘Bertie, the flat would have a universal software interface. Wi-Fi. Tea machines, ovens and gadgets which would be remote controlled. Retinal scanners at the entrance door. iPad-controlled door locks. Hidden flat-panel screens in all the rooms, which can be popped down at the flick of a button. Underwater lighting shows in the bath-tubs. Lighting fixtures and window blinds which can be shut at will, even by a remote. The place would be heavenly! Don’t you think so?! Would you not be happier, darling?’

‘But…er…listen, I say, I am happy the way things are, dear!’

‘Oh, Bertie, you are so very unromantic’, protested Honoria.

‘Well, dash it….., don’t you think that we shall need a software expert to manage all the advanced gadgets you indicate?’, I tried to reason, hope rearing its head yet again.

‘That is the beauty of the scheme I propose, dear. The moment such things get installed, Jeeves would find himself out of his depth. For all you know, pretty soon, he will put in his papers. That would bring sunshine and freedom back into your life.’

‘Sunshine? Freedom?’, I said doubtfully.

‘Bertie, would you or would you not fulfil this simple wish of mine?’

‘Hmm, let us think about it’, was the most I could mumble, just as my Guardian Angel decided to back me up, what with Spenser entering and announcing that my car had been brought to the gate. A perfunctory kiss on the cheeks of my spouse-to-be and I was off, temporarily elated at having had the wisdom of avoiding an unpleasant argument with Honoria. But the brow was decidedly furrowed. Dark crowds hovered over the horizon.

Reaching the metropolis, I decided to ward off the feeling of impending doom by stopping over briefly at Drones for a snifter. I can’t say it helped me much. As I headed for the flat, I brooded as much as my poor grey cells would allow me to, but could not come up with a solution to the challenge posed by my affianced. I just could not imagine a life without Jeeves. So very competent in every aspect.

Technology is all very well, if you know what I mean, but what about the human touch? Was there no value attached to the big head bulging at the back? The supreme intelligence which had so far protected me from so many disasters in life? Would a robot be able to whip up a pick-me-up, like Jeeves would, as and when necessary?

Could one count the number of times he had avoided the prospect of his master walking down the aisle with one of the finer specimens of the tribe of the delicately nurtured? What about his unique capacity of being able to judge the psychology of the individual? Could any robot even try to replicate a fraction of it?

As I entered my humble abode, things were as neatly arranged as ever. If Jeeves were to ever start offering consultation to big corporates in TQM or 5-S PGW HughLaurie-BertieWoosteror some such rot, he would be literally rolling in millions, I thought.

‘I trust your trip was satisfactory, sir?’, he asked deferentially, as he started unpacking the stuff.

‘I wish it had been that way’, Jeeves. ‘Do you think you could fix a w. and s. for me? Make it stiff, if you like’, I said.

In time, he waltzed in with a tissue restorative, a perfect picture of timely service and feudal zeal.

Having shoved down a couple of gulps down the hatch, I spilled the beans.

‘Jeeves, something frightful has happened.’

‘Indeed, sir?’

‘Time to come to the aid of the party, eh, what?’

‘My services are at your disposal, sir.’

‘Thanks to Aunt Agatha, I have got betrothed to Honoria Glossop.’

His left eyebrow went up a quarter of an inch. I am certain that Gandhi could have learnt a lesson in equanimity from Jeeves.

‘I wish you both great happiness together, sir.’

‘Thank you and what not. Though I realize that you would not approve of an alliance of this nature, you know what Aunt Agatha is like. Hitler himself could have taken a kindergarten course under her and failed to come up to her exacting standards.’

‘Perhaps you wish to convey that she comes up with proposals which try the soul, sir?’

‘Absolutely. What do you think, Jeeves?’

‘Sir, if the banns are getting announced, I wonder if I could get relieved of my responsibilities at an appropriate time?’

I was stupefied. Shaken to the core, if you know what I mean.

‘What makes you say that, Jeeves?’

‘You are aware, sir, that it is not my policy to serve in households where the master and his spouse are best left alone in rest and repose.’

‘I understand, Jeeves. In fact, Honoria has also been suggesting some frightful plans of upgrading the flat and make it more…..er, what is the word which has technology in it and ends with heavy or something?’

‘Perhaps you allude to the term tech-savvy, sir?’

‘Indeed. I wonder how you know all these things, Jeeves.’

‘Kind of you to say so, sir. I do believe that the future belongs to   those who are in sync with the Internet of Things.’

‘Internet of what things, Jeeves? Why do you always talk in terms of riddles?’

‘My apologies for having had the audacity of testing your patience, sir. I was referring to the rapid advancements in technology which are changing the way we interact with things, sir.’

‘Oh…like what?’

‘You may already know, sir, that robots and humanoids are increasingly taking over all kinds of routine tasks. Robots, algorithms and chatbots are becoming a part of everyday life. From Artificial Intelligence, people are trying to move on to Artificial General Intelligence and even Artificial Super Intelligence.’

‘Strange, Jeeves. How do you think things are going to shape up?’

‘Quite revolutionary, if I may venture to hazard a guess, sir. For example, the next time you walk into the Marriott Hotel in Belgium, a humanoid robot by the name of Mario could be checking you in. Likewise, the Hilton chain has launched Connie, a robot embedded with IBM’s Watson technology. As the trend picks up, hotel chains could replicate this experiment, thereby making you well known to all their properties across the world.’

wodehouse-characters‘Oh, so someone like Tuppy Glossop would no longer be able to get off with a misdemeanour at one of their swimming pools, looping the last ring or something of that kind?’

‘I fear not, sir. When you go for shopping, you may just need to punch some buttons and the desired object would appear on a screen. If you decide to buy, you punch another set of buttons, make the payment using internet banking, and the item would be offered to you on a designer conveyor belt, duly packed. No human intervention in the entire retailing process.’

‘Oh, so next time Aunt Dahlia asks me to go and sneer at a silver cow creamer at an antique shop, there will be no cove at the sales counter, registering my scorn?’

‘Quite likely, sir. In a similar vein, secretaries like Amy Ingram are now helping overworked office managers with quite a few of their mundane tasks. Thanks to a self-learning algorithm, Amy gets smarter all the time.’

‘Good news, indeed. So, there would no longer be a possibility of Aunt Dahlia wishing me to become the secretary of someone like Mr. A. B. Filmer, the Cabinet Secretary, who got thwarted by the overtures of an angry swan, what?’

‘Not really, sir. But at some future date, there is a possibility that our civilization reaches that state of perfection in its technological endeavours.’

‘But don’t you think we are being rather foolish, creating machines which might turn out to be smarter than us? The mind boggles. Sure enough, the foundations of our civilization are quivering.’

‘There is a lot of merit in what you say, sir. However, to be able to replicate the emotional responses and humane feelings of Homo Sapiens may not be easy. Eventually, both the skill-sets would be required for humanity to grow. As more and more routine tasks get done by robots, human beings can move higher up the cognitive and spiritual ladder.’

‘Do you think many other professions could also get invaded by this machine mania, Jeeves?’

‘I do believe so, sir. Even lawyers and judges could soon lose their jobs to their AI-enabled counterparts.’

‘Ah, what a relief that would be, Jeeves. Poor Aunt Dahlia, when trying to avoid my going in for thirty days without the option, would no longer need to offer the services of Anatole to such unscrupulous characters as Sir Watkyn Bassett, I guess.’

‘The contingency would indeed appear to be a remote one, sir.’

‘And what about the realm of tissue restoratives? That is an area you specialize in, Jeeves!’

‘I do believe, sir, that two young gentlemen from London have already come up with a brew called IntelligentX, which evolves its flavour based on responses from social media.’

‘But, surely, you would not spill the beans when it comes to those pick-me-ups of yours?’

‘That is a prospect which is best avoided, sir. But perhaps Ellie could solve quite a few of our problems.’

‘Oh, never heard of her. What am I missing, Jeeves?’

internet image 2‘Sir, Ellie is a virtual psychotherapy assistant in whom you can readily confide all your problems. I hear that scientists at the University of Southern California have developed her. She can help diagnose signs of depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), sir.’

‘But do you think she can replace such eminent loony doctors as Sir Roderick Glossop? After all, a specialist with his extensive practice can hardly help taking a rather warped view of humanity and might wish to check things first hand.’

‘Indeed, sir. But I believe that the eminent personality you refer to has already a couple of them working for him. This reduces his onerous overload of having to keep a tab on the vast number of patients he treats. In fact, just before you came in, Mrs. Gregson called up to say that one such specimen would be arriving soon enough to have a short diagnostic meeting with you.’

‘Oh, so what do you suggest, Jeeves?’

‘Sir, I would not wish to impose myself in any way. Nor would I like to stand in the way of the happiness of yourself and Miss Honoria.’

‘I respect this feudal approach of yours, Jeeves. That is precisely the reason I am seeking your support in the matter.’

robot-cat‘If so, with your permission, I would suggest using a virtual feline creature which is programmed to make the right noises at the right time, while Sir Roderick Glossop’s assistant is in a discussion with you. I had managed to borrow a specimen from one of the friends who had developed it and wanted it to be tested. Unless, of course, sir, you wish it otherwise….’

‘No, no, far from it, Jeeves,’ I butted in, hope dawning at last. ‘I appreciate this initiative of yours. But you mention only a single specimen. Last time, I thought, you had twenty-three cats!’ One always strived to get the numbers right, you see.

‘Thank you, sir. You are right about the last time. However, this time we are handling merely an assistant. Also, the robot cat I have in my possession now can generate ten different kinds of meows at random, thereby giving the impression that there are so many in the place.’

‘Splendid. So, we are also spared the trouble of encountering a dead fish wanting a written explanation and apology!’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘By the way, may I know how did you manage to learn all this about the Internet of Things, Jeeves?’

‘Sir, bots powered by superior forms of Artificial Intelligence are soon likely to be the interface, shaping our interactions with the applications and the devices we rely on. Pretty soon, internet-connected cars, elevators and smart cities will pose newer challenges. Internet of Things is the future and I thought I have to be ready to be able to handle it.’

‘Don’t tell me that you are already an expert in handling computers, motherboards, servers, networks and the latest gizmos? You never fail to amaze, Jeeves!’

‘Kind of you to say so, sir. I merely strive to keep my skills upgraded at all times, so I may continue to provide satisfaction. Stephen R Covey has famously held that one should always keep one’s saw sharpened.’

‘Covey….who is this brainy cove?’

‘Sir, he is an expert who is revered in the field of management these days.’

‘But how did you manage to learn this much?’

‘A bit of money which an aunt of mine had bequeathed me came in handy some time back. Also, a little bit of subterfuge, sir, if I may confess. You may recall my having requested some leave last year around this time, sir?’

‘Yes, you said you wanted to hone your skills in shrimp farming, if I remember right.’

‘Your memory does not fail you, sir. In fact, I had used that time to take up an intensive course in the Internet of Things, sir.’

‘Well, well! How did you ever manage that?’

internet image 1‘Sir, the Junior Ganymede Club had earlier succeeded in forging a closer alliance with companies which make hi-tech gear for the aristocracy. Mr. Brigstock, the secretary of the club, had confided in me that talks with outfits like Crestron and Savant had eventually borne fruit. These companies have designed training programs to teach aspirants to my kind of service-oriented career as to how to run and troubleshoot smart-home systems. The club is already running a separate academy which imparts knowledge to wannabe gentlemen of gentlemen in IT networking and programming. This, it is hoped, would ward off the threat to this age old profession from bright engineers and IT-savvy youngsters who wish to improve upon their pecuniary circumstances and earn six-figure emoluments.’

‘You have certainly earned a hefty raise for yourself, Jeeves. Name it and you shall have it.’

‘I am much obliged for your generosity, sir,’ he said, suddenly looking at his iPad which was blinking softly.

‘Sir, one Ellie-99 from the office of Sir Glossop is at the door, seeking an interaction with you.’

‘Oh, already, eh, what? Is the virtual cat in place?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘In perfect working order, I hope?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Bung her in, then. Let us scare her off, so the fixture with Honoria gets scratched without further delay.’

‘Your wish is my command, sir,’ he said as he shimmered out to let Ellie-99 in.

(Illustrations courtesy the world wide web)

 

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Psmith put the newspaper away. A sigh escaped him.

“Nothing makes sense”, he muttered.

For the space of about twenty-five seconds, Mike, sitting across a small table on a sunlit balcony ingateway-of-india Mumbai, India, sat in silence.

“What is wrong with you?”, asked Mike, with a concerned look on his face.

Some time back, Psmith and Mike had been posted to the Mumbai branch of the New Asiatic Bank. It had taken them some time to get used to the hustle bustle of the noisy metropolis, often reeking of stale fish.

They had a centrally air-conditioned apartment all to themselves at Worli in one of the high-rise buildings overlooking the Arabian Sea. Being a Sunday, both were in a relaxed state of mind.

“How could people be so very excited about being taxed differently?”

“Who is excited? What are you referring to?”

“You would know that India is soon set to hop on to the Goods and Services Tax (GST) bandwagon. What the poor guys do not realize is that life is not going to be a bed of roses, as it is being made out to be.”

Mike continued to concentrate on the designer tea-pot in front of him, a complete picture of the model gown-wearing bank officer on his weekly off day.

“It is good to notice the concern you display for the citizenry which managed to slip out of British control some seventy years back. Perhaps, you are upset that it took them so long to realize that their entire country needed to be a unified market?”

“No. What I object to is the fundamental flaw in the GST. It is un-Indian. It is just too simple.”

Mike looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Comrade Jackson, no Indian tax system could be that simple. A universal tax percentage applied to everything so you know how to calculate it is just not right. It is handing over the power of understanding a tax to the people. Does this not take away the basic right of Indian taxation: confusion, opacity and obfuscation?’”

“But, surely, that should be good news?”

“Not for the few bespectacled gentlemen who try to figure things out, buried under the weight of those heavy tax books in some library of a government department. They would be rendered simply rudderless. They would resent this sudden deprivation of their tremendous power – of being the select few who could interpret and explain away the laws, the bye-laws, the rules, the notifications, the rulings by various tribunals and councils from time to time, and what not. I sense a revolt of sorts brewing up soon enough.”

“Oh, you mean to say that the bureaucrats would not be too pleased with the new taxation system?”

“Elementary, my dear Jackson. They would surely not relish the prospect of losing their power over the people. Also, the only way they can earn the extra money required to keep their families grinning from ear to ear.”

“Hmm…you do have a point there.”

“Not only this. Should a simple taxation law come into play, imagine the number of taxation experts India Parliament Housewho would be rendered jobless. Their care-worn clients would no longer be spending hours in their plush offices, trying to figure out the nuances of filing quarterly returns. They would instead be sitting in a fine dine restaurant, treating their lissome secretaries to a sumptuous dinner, while having told the spouse of a pressing need to attend a crucial meeting at the office.”

“But you would agree that the GST idea is indeed noble, simple, global and logical.”

“Which is why I suspect there is so much resistance to it. The government has been trying to sit people down and explain to them why the current system of taxation is the work of some mad people who happen to grace the opposition chairs now. Of late, it even decided to reach out to the latter and ensure that they were no longer sulking at the party presently in power walking off with all the credit for having brought in this landmark change. And note that the party in power now had itself obstructed the same change when it happened to be in the opposition.”

“But what do you think is so very exciting about the present system? I think it is known as Value Added Tax. They have several other taxes as well.”

“Well, for one, that should be known instead as Value Reduced Tax, simply because you have less value once you have paid it. Then they have excise, individual state taxes, octroi tax, entry tax, professional tax, luxury tax, entertainment tax, sleeping peacefully at night tax, Bengali sweets tax, South Indian dosa and idli tax, North Indian chhole bhatoore tax, West Indian poha and shri khand tax, did-not-tell-your-wife-and-came-to-Pondicherry tax, Clean India tax, farmers’ mental happiness tax, road accident tax, child-not-doing-too-well-at-school tax, mother-in-law irritant tax, enduring the politicians tax, having-to-watch-inane-movies tax, waiting for delivery of public services tax, and many more in the same genre.”

“Ah, life could be surely simpler!”

“But the good point here is that the common citizen can never afford to be lazy or complacent. The Indian tax system has always been designed to keep the common citizen on his toes. Agile. Confused. Uncertain. Feeling illiterate. There has always been an element of surprise. He opens a letter and finds that he has a tax due. And he starts asking himself, ‘What tax is this? I was not aware a tax like this existed. Do I need to pay it? Is there no way to avoid paying it?’ And off he goes to seek some solace from his tax consultant who is happy to demystify the affair and get another excuse to raise a bill on the hapless wannabe tax-evader.”

“You appear to be quite impressed with the Indian taxation system!”

“Yes, Comrade! They have an excellent system which matches their age-old spiritual values. Anythingemblem_of_india-svg that makes you feel small, negligible and illiterate is bound to flatten your ego in no time. You could even be a director of our bank. But when you get a tax notice which you do not understand, you feel all of a twitter. You take a more benevolent view of humanity in general. Even your driver and your lift operator seem like angels in distress, facing similar challenges in life. You realize that there is no escaping the taxation system. It is as immortal as a soul is said to be.”

“But what makes you think the GST is likely to be simpler, when it comes to the fine print? I was told that it would need even the humble barber to file as many as forty odd returns to the government every quarter?”

Psmith slid out of his chair with a disgruntled sigh, and dusted his dressing gown. “Perhaps there is something in what you say. I propose that we call the new system as the Great Spiritual Tax instead. It would make all businesses across all the states and territories of India equally worried. They might even turn to spirituality and seek divine intervention to set their house in order. It would not be wrong to surmise that a commercial crisis has indeed arisen. A period of great anxiety has begun, especially so for small businesses.”

Mike looked up with some surprise.

“Let me explain,” said Psmith, raising his hands. “Once the new system takes over, all businesses would be required to register. Whether for manufacturers, distributors or retailers, it would be virtually impossible to escape the tax net. The luxury of doing business based on fake bills would no longer be theirs. In fact, past transactions could also come in for greater scrutiny. Besides, the Income Tax sleuths would be easily able to figure out the real income levels of businessmen of all hues, sizes and shapes. The entire business eco-system would totter.”

“Are you trying to say that the size of the Indian parallel economy would shrink?”

“Quite possible, Comrade Jackson. Your keen intelligence reaffirms my faith in your unique abilities. However, I doubt if this could be good news for the country.”

“How do you say this?”

“If you would delve deep into your memory cells, you would recall the 2008 financial crisis which engulfed the world. Do you think the Indian economy suffered as much as our so-called advanced economies then?”

“I do not think so. The Indian economy showed greater resilience then.”

“If so, allow me to point out that one of the major factors discovered and held to have helped India then was the existence of an underground economy.”

“Indeed?!”

“I do believe so, though I confess I am not an expert at such matters. Take the informal economy awayRashtrapati Bahavan and what do you get? A rigid and formal economy which has a much higher dependence on formal debt markets. The risk of overstating debts grows manifold. Next time round, when another Lehman Brothers show up on the horizon, the Indian economy could be found in deeper waters. Having a thriving parallel economy helps.”

“You surely surprise me. You sound like an ardent advocate of the parallel economy!”

“On the contrary, I do not. My point is very simple. Why should we allow only our businesses to suffer when the political parties themselves continue to enjoy the fruits of an underground nature? Why not clean up the Indian political act as well and provide a level playing field to all her citizens? Why should the Indian politicos be spared of a taste of their own medicine that they prescribe for the toiling masses?”

“Whatever, the Indian GST is now already on a roll. The bill has received the assent of the President of India. The only hope you can entertain is that of the implementation getting goofed up and the process getting delayed somehow. My understanding is that if the steps of setting up a GST Council, an agreement on a basic tax rate and the detailed procedures take longer than a year, the implementation deadline might as well get shifted to April 2018. If that happens, the government itself may keep it on the back burner for some time.”

“Oh, you allude to the risk of embracing unpredictable consequences of adopting a new taxation system in the run-up to the 2019 parliamentary elections!”

“Yes. In fact, yet another challenge before them might be that of the absence of internet connectivity all over the country. Even if the GST Network gets perfected, how would they ensure that a dealer in, say, Sikkim, can secure a registration in Kerala? It is good to hear of a seamless market, but a smooth roll-out would need a strong internet backbone all across.”

“Well, sure enough, their best men would be working out the finer details and smoothening the road to implementation. The stakes are high indeed. The reputation of the present government rides on how it handles a challenge of this nature. But what you are missing on, Comrade Jackson, is the key factor of human ingenuity. When it comes to paying any taxes, it knows no bounds.”

“But I am not quite sure if there could be an easy escape route for any business, as you yourself had rightly pointed out just now.”

“But we underestimate the propensity of human beings to go to any lengths to avoid paying any taxes. Innovation is the name of the game in this case. Sure enough, the Indian tax experts would now bemap-of-india burning the proverbial mid-night oil, getting ready to advise their anxious clients about some new creative practices they could adopt under the new tax regime. Given the level of primal hate harboured by all businesses towards the act of paying any kind of taxes, advisors in the business of tax avoidance would be twiddling their thumbs, endeavouring to figure out ingenious methods of beating the new system at its own game.”

Mike smiled.

“As always, you have hit the nail on its head. But this is a universal fact which governments all over the world have to cope with. Is there any other thing you are not too comfortable about?”

“Yes, though I do not know how your intuitive faculties are so very advanced as to guess this. I do not quite see eye to eye on the strategy of dumping more and more indirect taxes on the hapless citizenry, while not working aggressively to expand the direct taxes base.”

“I really do admire your depth of thinking on the subject. Do you refer to recent reports that merely one percent of the people pay income tax in India?”

“Indeed. What an irony!”

“Perhaps, you imply that politicians of all hues lack the courage to take some unpopular steps. Rather than chasing more people to pay income tax, they prefer to use the indirect taxes route which is relatively invisible?”

“Yes. Perhaps they follow the advice of their sage Chanakya who famously said that taxes should be collected by inflicting the least possible pain on the citizens, much like a bee would collect nectar from a flower in bloom!”

“And what do you think our own bank would have to undergo?,” Mike asked.

“Serious matter. Under the new dispensation, we shall need to register in all the states and unionpsmith-1909 territories. Perhaps, even in districts, where we have branches. This is going to be a compliance nightmare. I hear some talk of all the banks lobbying for a facility to register with a centralized agency which would pool, reconcile, analyze and audit our transactions. If so, this agency could distribute the revenue earned through us to different states where the transaction has occurred.”

Mike rose from his chair and stretched his arms. His gaze drifted off to a couple of fishing boats bouncing up and down on the bluish-green waters of the Arabian Sea.

“These are deep waters, indeed. I wonder why we are discussing such matters on a lazy Sunday morning? I rather think I’ll nip down to Haji Ali and take some fresh air into my lungs,” said he. “You couldn’t come too, I suppose?”

“On the contrary,’ said Psmith, ‘I could, and will. A stroll will just restore those tissues which the gruelling discussion of the last half-hour has wasted away. It is a fearful strain, this taxation toil. Let us trickle towards the place mentioned by you. Comrade Jackson, lead me to this picturesque dargah of yours of which I have heard so much.”

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Those who use the humble mode of travel by a bicycle in Plumsville are many. A hero gets trapped into a fruitless expedition one night. A cop gets dislodged from a bicycle by a member of the canine species and falls into a ditch. Yet another cop resents a member of the public using a bicycle in the service of the Crown to impart cycling lessons to his heart throb.

There is yet another danger that bicyclists face on the roads of Plumsville – that of being hit by a well-aimed tomato hurled by a mother who is out to declare a party open.

Savour this piece from Plumtopia which serves a friendly warning to those who plan to use this environment-friendly mode of transport.

Honoria Plum's avatarPlumtopia

When you are shut up all the year round in a place like Maiden Eggesford, with nothing to do but wash underclothing and attend Divine Service, you naturally incline to let yourself go a bit at times of festival and holidays.

‘Tried in the Furnace’ (Young Men in Spats)

What Ho! What Ho!

I’m in an effervescent sort of mood today as I’m about to motor to the seaside for a short, much-needed holiday. My journey will take in the Dorset towns of Maiden Newton and Bridport, which the scholars at Madam Eulalie suggest as likely locations for P.G. Wodehouse’s Maiden Eggesford and Bridmouth-on-Sea.

Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps and Pongo Twistleton-Twistleton visit Maiden Eggesford in one of my favourite Wodehouse stories, ‘Tried in the Furnace’, where they both fall in love with the Reverend P.P. Briscoe’s daughter, Angelica. In accordance with her wishes, Barmy reluctantly agrees to take the Village Mothers on…

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The festival season is already upon us. Markets and malls are full of wide-eyed wannabe shoppers who are out to strike good bargains.

Time to revisit and recount the festive frenzy which sweeps all Homo Sapiens off their delicate feet at regular intervals.

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

The festival season is already upon us, yet again. Those in the Western world are gearing up for celebrating Christmas and New Year. Those in such emerging economies as India are already in the midst of a shopping frenzy, having kick-started the season with Raksha Bandhan, Janamashtami, Ganesh Chaturthi, Durga Puja, Vijayadashmi and Muharram.new-year-2014-firework

They now eagerly look forward to celebrating Guru Nanak Dev’s birthday, Diwali, the festival of lights, and Eid. These would be followed by Christmas, just before the New Year rings in, bringing in its wake Pongal, celebrated in the southern parts and Makar Sankranti, celebrated in the northern parts of India.

Come festive season and a new spirit seems, every year, to cast its spell over the entire community. A spirit of outwardly cheerfulness and goodwill prevails. Fresh rays of hope penetrate through the dense clouds of gloom. Concerns of…

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ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

Sweden is famous for its fetish with gender equality. So it came as no surprise recently when the male train drivers there started wearing skirts to work. Faced with high temperatures, the guys had actually asked for permission to wear shorts. The same was promptly denied – because the dress code permits only trousers and skirts! By doing so, however, the male train drivers possibly revived a fashion invented long time back by the Greeks, Egyptians and Romans!

Ask a psycho-analyst and he is likely to dismiss the news rather calmly. Most behavioral studies establish that our personalities area1 1 (14b) made up of masculine as well as feminine traits. So, what is new, he might well ask. Ask a spiritual guru from India and he is sure to point out the relevance of the concept of ardha-nareeshwara – a combination of the Purusha and the Prakriti – propounding the unified nature…

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