Monday, March 25, 2013

Always Be Nice !


Welcome to 81st Monday Musings:



Once upon a time, there lived a farmer who had a little land.

His name was Heera and he was a very kind and good-natured person.

He lived in a hut on his land with his wife and children and earned by selling whatever crops he could produce on his small land.

Heera loved to help others. Whenever someone fell ill or needed something badly, Heera was there to help that person.

If someone died in the village, Heera assisted the family members of the deceased person in whichever way he could.

If anyone fell ill at night, Heera was right beside the village doctor to help him prepare the medicines and tend to the sick.

There seemed to be none who hated this man. He appeared to be loved by one and all.

But there was one person who hated Heera with all his heart.

He was Pinna, a neighbor of Heera, who lived in the land next to him.

A lazy person by nature, Pinna hardly put in as much effort to cultivate his land as Heera did to produce crops in his own.

So when the harvest season arrived every year, Pinna found that he had very few crops to sell.

Heera on the other hand, earned a handsome profit through the selling of his produces.

One year, Pinna could no longer contain his jealousy. Just days before Heera was to reap his harvest,

Pinna set fire to his crops at night.

Heera was asleep at this time and it was only the alertness of one of his other neighbor’s that saved much of his crops from being perished in the deadly flames of the fire that Pinna had lighted.

When the flames were doused, Heera saw which direction the fire had started from. Panna's animosity towards him was unknown to Heera. But he let the matters rest and decided to take action only if he saw Pinna repeating his dastardly act once again.

That year, Heera managed to sell the rest of his crops at a good price but he could not make much profit for a good part of his produces had been burnt.

He had a heavy heart but he did not like to tell anyone about it.

Only days later, Heera was awakened by the sound of lamentations. He went out to find a crowd beside Panna's hut.

He rushed to find that Panna's son had fallen ill. He found that the village doctor was unable to provide a cure to his illness.

Heera knew what he had to do. He untied his own horse and rode it. Then he rushed to the town that was ten miles away and fetched a more experienced doctor who lived there.

This doctor was able to guess the disease correctly and provided an exact cure for it. Within hours, the boy was found to sleep soundly and Heera went with the doctor to take him back to the town.

A day later, Pinna went to Heera's hut and began to weep bitterly. He confessed to his sins but was surprised when Heera told him that he knew about it all.

"You knew that I had set fire to your crops? And still you fetched the doctor for my son?" asked the astonished Pinna.

Heera nodded and said, "I did what I knew was right. Could I do wrong just because you had done so?"

Pinna stood up and embraced Heera. Both men were in tears and so were the others who stood by them.

From that day, Pinna changed himself. Within a year, he could produce much crops in his land through his hard work. When the others asked him how he had changed so much, he only replied,

"It was the goodness and love of Heera that transformed me."



Moral of the story :

Always be nice to your friends. Be nicer to your enemies (sometimes It works J)








Make it a great Week !


Shailesh



Monday, March 11, 2013

Become a lake !

Welcome to 80th Monday Musings:



An aging master grew tired of his apprentice’s complaints.

One morning, he sent him to get some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master told him to mix a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.

"How does it taste?" the master asked.

"Bitter," said the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake.

The two walked in silence to the nearby lake and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, "Now drink from the lake."

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, "How does it taste?"

"Fresh," remarked the apprentice.

"Do you taste the salt?" asked the master.

"No," said the young man.

At this the master sat beside this serious young man, and explained softly,

The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains exactly the same. However, the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in.

So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things.

Stop being a glass. Become a lake.

Moral of the story :

Always look the things in bigger perspective and a bigger vision will make problem smaller to solve.

A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable. A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed ~ Gautama Buddha






Make it a great Week !


Shailesh




Monday, March 4, 2013

If you can dream it, you can do it !


Welcome to 79th Monday Musings:


This is a true story a person and in his own words, I have tried my best to shorten the story.



I was born on August 15, 1900 in a small village, Bhaun in district Jhelum, which now forms a part of Pakistan.

The story of my life has been, in many ways, a dramatic one -- full of difficulties and hardships, in earlier days and later a spectacular rise to the position I now hold.

But this was not achieved without incessant toil and a daily fight against tremendous odds. Yet it was a challenge to prove myself. When I look back to those days, as I sometimes do, in moments of leisure, I am thankful that I was able to accept this challenge and make good.

These reflections also make me feel humble for I realize it was with God's help that I achieved what the world calls 'success.'

My father was a contractor in Peshawar, who died when I was only six months old.  The family consisted of my mother and myself.

My earlier days were spent in the little village of my birth. I began my education at the village school. Later, I was sent to the nearby town of Rawalpindi and enrolled in the DAV school from where I matriculated.

After this I went to Lahore to join college and passed my Intermediate (12th Class) Examination.

My studies were cut short as our already meagre finances began to dwindle.

This was a moment of anxiety in my life as I realized that my qualifications would not get me a job.

However, at the suggestion of a friend, I went to Amritsar, stayed with him and took a course in shorthand and typing.

There was still no job for me on the horizon and I decided to get back to my village, where it would be easier to live than in a big city.

There followed a point of waiting and frustration. My uncle helped me to get a job in the Lahore Shoe Factory. My work was to supervise the manufacture and sale of shoes.

For a while, things looked brighter but the star of ill luck was still in the ascendant and soon the factory was closed down for lack of finances and I was compelled to return to my village.

In India the importance attached to marriage is beyond all reason. Here I was penniless, jobless and almost friendless, but in spite of these very real disadvantages, my marriage was arranged with the daughter of Shri Ushnak Rai, who belonged to my village. I think my bright looks may have influenced my father-in-law.

I like to think that in spite of other shortcomings I was a smart lad and he probably assessed that I would make good. The days immediately following my marriage were spent with my in-laws in Sargodha.

On my return to Bhaun, a virulent plague epidemic had broken out. My mother told me that since I could not do any-thing to help in such a situation,

I should go back to Sargodha and not risk my life. Plague, in those days was a terrible killer and people naturally dreaded an epidemic, which often wiped out villages. Sadly, I left full of apprehension about my future.

In this mood of depression,

I saw an advertisement in the local newspaper for the post of a junior clerk in a government office. With Rs. 25 in my pocket, which my mother had given me,

I left for Shimla to appear for the examination.

Unprepared as I was, I was unable to pass.

This did not lessen my depression. My time was now spent walking around Shimla and rambling in the countryside.

Being the summer seat of the government of India, the town itself was full of high-ranking officers and members of the Viceroy's Council.

But the hillsides, beyond officialdom were beautiful and there were many walks where one could be alone with one's thoughts.

One day, as I was passing the Hotel Cecil, I suddenly had the urge to go in and try my luck.

Those were the days when this hotel was one of India's leading hotels, high class and elegant. It was owned by the line of Associated Hotels of India.

As I entered, I found the manager himself in the foyer. I did not know who he was but one becomes bold in the face of difficulties. I had nothing to lose, so I went up and asked if I could have a job in the hotel.

The manager was a kindly English gentleman named D W Grove. I was also given the post of billing clerk at Rs. 40 a month. Soon, my salary was raised to Rs. 50.

At my request, on the plea of being married, I was also given living quarters. These were situated on the outer periphery of the hotel and were very humble indeed. When my wife joined me in Shimla, we started to settle down in our modest home.

Here we were faced with the necessity of cleaning the place ourselves. The quarters were in a bad shape and far from clean, but we were thankful to have a roof over our heads.

We had to whitewash the walls ourselves, causing blisters on my hands and the consequent discomfort and embarrassment for me in the hotel work.

Soon after I joined the Cecil, there was a change of management. Mr. Clarke succeeded Mr. Grove as manager. For the first time a small piece of luck came my way.

My knowledge of stenography helped me take over the post of cashier and stenographer to Mr. Clarke, and thus began my grounding on how hotels run.

I worked and maintained an interest in my job. The fact that I knew my efforts were noted encouraged me.


In 1924, Mr. Clarke decided to go into the hotel business for himself. His contract with the Associated Hotels of India had just ended.

He obtained a catering contract for the Delhi Club and asked me if I could join him. I readily accepted the offer. My salary was now Rs. 100.

The Delhi Club contract was only for a year and Mr. Clarke soon began looking around for new business.

The Carlton Hotel in Shimla was in liquidation. Mr. Clarke was eager to lease it but guarantors were required.

Here I was able to help and thus discharge a part of the moral debt, which his kindness and consideration in the past had placed upon me.

I approached some of my relatives and friends who had means to assist with their co-operation.

The Clarkes Hotel in Shimla was opened.

After five years, Mr. Clarke decided to retire and sell out the hotel.

He made me an offer saying he would prefer someone who could maintain the tradition and efficiency of the hotel to run it.

Acceptance meant that I would have to mortgage my few assets and my wife's jewellery in order to raise the necessary funds. However, I did not hesitate long.

The opportunity seemed almost a Godsend, as we Indians are a superstitious people. I took over the proprietorship of Clarkes Hotel with the help of a kind uncle who had stood by me in the past.

I was now established in the Hotel business.

It is a strange coincidence that nearly every turn in my life has been associated with an epidemic of some sort.

In 1933 there had been a cholera epidemic of vast proportions in Calcutta (now Kolkata). The Grand Hotel had been closed ever since, as more than a hundred foreign guests had died. People were afraid to visit Calcutta.

I happened to see the advertisement placed by the liquidators and immediately decided to take over the hotel if I could get in on low leasehold.

The negotiated rent was Rs. 7,000 a month. I agreed to this figure and had the place cleaned up and refurnished.

With the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939, Calcutta was full of troops.

The British Army was frantically trying to find accommodation.

I immediately improvised 1,500 beds for the troops at Rs 10 per head for board and lodging.

I also appointed Mr. Grove, who had been my first employer at the Cecil Hotel where he had engaged me on Rs. 50 a month, on a monthly salary of Rs. 1,500.

Taking over a cholera-ridden hotel had been a landmark in my career.

The fact that I converted it and helped the Army in the time of stress and difficulty had come to the notice of the government. In 1941,

I was awarded the title of Rai Bahadur by the government of India in recognition of the services to the Indian Hotel Industry.


In 1943, I bought out the controlling shareholdings of Associated Hotels of India Limited from Spencer & Company borrowing capital against the security of shares of the same company. In this way, I gained control over a big chain of hotels with establishments in Rawalpindi, Peshawar, Lahore, Muree and Delhi.

I employed as one of my general managers, the son of my former boss in Shimla, Mr Falleti.

The wheel had turned a full circle. I gradually added more hotels to my chain in Darjeeling, Chandigarh and Kashmir. I began to think of building my own hotels, and the first attempt was a small hotel in Gopalpur-on-Sea, in Orissa.

India was now independent. Horizons had widened. I began to feel the world was my oyster -- that I could succeed in anything I attempted. Fortunately, I also realized that it was not good enough to keep launching new ventures if old ones were allowed to suffer. Too often efficiency and high standards once established are taken for granted.

My constant aim has been to preserve the reputation of my hotels at the highest possible level. This pays many kinds of dividends. I was elected President of the Federation of Hotel and Restaurant Associations of India in April 1955, and in 1960. I was created President of Honor of the Federation for life.

My main interest was building India amongst the top-most countries in the hotel expertise, also providing employment for improving the quality of life and helping the young.

I contested the Rajya Sabha election in 1962 and was successful. In 1967, I stood for the election for the Lok Sabha and won with a majority of over 46,000 votes -- not a bad record for a newcomer in politics.

I was able to open the Oberoi Intercontinental Hotel in 1965 -- a joint venture with Inter-continental Hotels Corporation and Pan American. Before this event could take place there were years of work and what some-times seemed innumerable difficulties. The reward for my labour comes through the fact that this hotel has become one of the most prestigious establishments in India.

My hotels continued to expand. Some people refer to them as my Empire. A hotel is a small nation in itself and a chain does perhaps merit the name of Empire. This empire is not an imperialistic one, but rather based on the idea of rendering service. This has always been my wish and my endeavor.

By Now you might have understood whom we are reading about, He is “Rai Bahadur Mohan Singh Oberoi” who was an Indian hotelier, the founder and chairman of Oberoi Hotels & Resorts, India's second-largest hotel company, with more than 35 hotels in India, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, Sri Lanka , Nepal, Gulf Area, Egypt  and Africa.

Moral of the story :

Dare to Dream Big, Live you Dreams and work hard to make your dream come true!


Remember: If you can dream it, you can do it !




Make it a great Week !


Shailesh