Arunkundram

Colour or Color?

2011-08-07T20:47:00.002+05:30

I recently had a conversation with C, who seemed to like 'the Amerikka' a lot. I told C that yes, it is a likeable country with good folks, and is very similar to ours. That last phrase touched off a separate strain pertaining to how bad our country is, with bad roads, poor facilities, corruption, and so on and on and on. I tried convincing C that yes, our country has issues, but nothing insurmountable, and this side of the Atlantic too has a quite a few. After all, the so-called rich developed nations are so after being in India's current position. Alas, that did not help. C was on a mission to convince me that India is bad and worsening and that I should not come back. This was followed by an inexhaustible (to me, it seemed) list of complaints, and I began to wonder if C was a recent convert to some (dystopian) strain of Orwellian theory. Finally, I ended the conversation by saying that C should personally visit other places and find out personally.

This was followed by more conversations with others, so many of them that I cannot assign code names such as A, or B, since I would run out of all the letters of the alphabet. The only thing I gathered was that India was going down the drain and the US was everybody's idea of utopia. This observation was further reinforced by a recent poll in Reader's Digest where India had the highest proportion of polled people expressing an inclination to live in the US.

Why are folks so desperate to leave? Why is everyone trying to convince anyone who wishes to live in India not to?

I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side... and having US currency coloured green adds to it? Or maybe spelling that word 'color' is more attractive? :)

Time to call a spade a spade (or is it a toothpick?)

2011-07-30T19:11:00.003+05:30

How does one know if one is being taken for a ride? Simple, look at the latest draft of the Lokpal bill presented to the cabinet. By saying, TIG (trust in the govt. not God), the powers-that-be have managed to solve the issue of corruption thoroughly, and may I add, permanently. Going forward, India will again become a land of milk and honey, of just rule of law and dharma, much like how it supposedly was during the Mauryan era.

Am I serious? I must be joking, right? What do you think?

This is precisely what the common man is confronted with, when reading the different versions of the Lokpal issue that has animated public discourse recently. Of course I am joking. We will not know for a fact how life under Mauryas were, just like how we will not know how life without corruption will be. But by confusing the public, and pulling wool over the eyes of the people, the present govt. has almost succeeded completely legalising corruption, and privatising govt. Next time one goes to register a piece of land, one must carry a sackfull of CASH, for it will demanded as a right to service by the public servants. Since they are servants, they need to be paid, and the Lokpal bill (in)directs the public to bear the salary expenditures of officials. If we take exception to this odious practice, what are our options? File a complaint, of course! But with whom?

There lies the beauty of this bill: first we have to find out what 'grade' the concerned official is, then file a complaint with the CBI or Lokpal, depending on the grade. How do we find out that info? Good luck, and let me know if it is easy to get. Of course, the CBI is not going to do anything, unless the Supreme Court breathes down its neck, and since the SC cannot humanly monitor each and every complaint, forget the complaint. Let's say that the official is a higher grade, and complaint gets filed to the Lokpal. What next? There is no next - the Lokpal will not be able to prosecute - it can determine cause and forward the case to a 'competent authority', whatever that means. Who is the competent authority to investigate a Chief Secretary? CBI? Then why have the Lokpal? What if the official a state govt. employee - then the Lokpal has no jurisdiction. We are at the mercy of the benevolent state having established a Lokayukta, which is optional today.

Let's say the complaint is against a minister. So the person summons up enough courage to actually file a complaint. The Lokpal may then investigate and pass the file to the speaker of Parliament. That's it. No issuing warrants, prosecution, etc. It's upto the speaker/Parliament to investigate itself. What does one expect here? Of course, the said minister is guilty as charged? Maybe in the mythical land of Oz, not in the corridors of Delhi.

That said, I agree that the office of Prime Minister should not be under the Lokpal - but I think the person himself/herself occupying the post should be held accountable *after* the term expires - this would act as a deterrent that they are not fully immune from their actions, and also not affect national security, if at all.

Why the above state of affairs? Enough has been said in the public media recently, so let me just summarize the errors committed by this govt.:

1. No genuine interest in setting up a true Ombudsman.
2. Keeping the Lokpal under the govt.'s thumb - at first glance, it is not even as autonomous as the EC or the CAG.
3. No prosecuting power, since CBI is out of the Lokpal's purview - much like a toothless grandfather who says, 'hey kids, don't eat chocolate, it's bad for you', but cannot hide the chocolates.
4. Saving the goose that lays the golden egg for posterity - so future MPs/bureaucrats can partake in its offerings.
5. Closing of ranks - I know this MP is a friend, and is corrupt, so I will declare myself as clean and turn a blind eye (sound familiar?)
6. No real concern for the common man (what's new?) - lower levels can continue to take bribes as they do without fear of sanction or prosecution.
7. Consulting the states about setting up Lokayuktas - when needed, the Centre can invoke enough authority to do what it wants, but that is not the case here.
8. Finally, the most grievous error of all: 'Trust the govt. to come up with a clean bill'. This, from one of the most corrupt administrations in our long history.

Though I too have a lot of respect for our truly esteemed PM, it is sad that he is heading such a govt. and not showing any teeth. He should either take charge, or just resign so he does not get tarred with the same brush. At this rate, his legacy is going to be poor in comparison with his intellectual stature. I am sure that the lady from Lusiana can ask her 'inner voice' to find another replacement to do her bidding.

To conclude, what should the common man do when going to the land records office? Cash and carry, no need to worry!

What ails the north east?

2010-08-21T20:57:00.007+05:30

Reproducing my part of a conversation with S and S. We were talking about why things are generally pessimistic about the north eastern states, and why no one seems to care. The recent blockade of the entire state of Manipur for months together, while the rest of the country was engrossed in the antics in bollywood and IPL was a case in point. I don't understand why there is little or no coverage about life in these states in our so-called 'national' media, apart from military casualties. While I want to know about soldiers serving there, I also want to know more about life in those parts. However, all is not lost. The Hindu seems to be reporting regularly from Manipur, and that's a start.

My two cents on what can be done to improve the state of affairs:

Give more control to the states over the money. For example, the north east got some 10k crore grant recently (can't recall the exact instance, but Manmohan announced it a while back). This is in addition to the what the planning commission gives, and would be interesting to know what happens to this money. My guess is, a good chunk of it is returned unspent. (Like you said,) Some number crunching would help here.

So while funds aren't the issue, spending it properly is. Another thing Delhi can do here is to loosen the apron strings a bit. I am not sure how much grassroots governance exists here. Experience from Kerala/TN shows that grassroots control spreads development better than a top down approach. But the issue here is that Delhi feels uncomfortable giving up some control to these far flung states, hence the lack of real progress. Give some more control to the states to build their own roads and infrastructure as they see fit, I am sure some progress will be made. Agencies like BRO can build maintain genuinely difficult, sensitive and high altitude stretches, and no more.

Elaborating on this point, there is one more thing that makes no sense: everything about the north east is viewed through the national security prism. As though these states would want to team up with Myanmar or China! No one wants that, I (read that) the terrible memories of '62 are still around. We need to feel more self confident in dealing with our far flung areas and trust them to run their own affairs to an extent, at least to what exists in the south and the west (am not talking about another article 370). Trust me, once the spectre of Delhi being the colonial master intent upon using the natural resources fades, things *will* drastically improve.

All is not lost, though. The north eastern states have decent social development indices. This link shows some decent statistics, and some effort is being put into starting up IITs and NITs here.

This is the problematic area: Look at the road lengths in the bottom of the column.

I think the following would help:

* Fixing lines of communication, and exploiting the educational levels to bring more jobs here will do the trick. The insurgencies we hear about periodically will die out by themselves, the armed forces can be re-deployed for genuine national security duties. I am sure they don't like counter insurgency duties against the people either.

* Let the states build their own hydel power projects, the centre should just fund them with one time grants (like the one mentioned above), instead of actually building them using central PSUs. Then the states can use this the way they want: my guess is, they will sell the inevitable surplus power on the national market, and the monies will go into the states directly. There is bound to be some trickle down effect and long term gains.

* Open up these areas further to tourists. People like us still need passes to go to some states, like Arunachal! Can you believe that? I am sure the states are definitely interested in promoting tourism - it is as beautiful as Kashmir, if not more so.

* My pet project, that will need time to take effect: introduce more learning material about these states in the national curriculum. Too many of us dismiss the people east of Assam as chinese, etc. We don't really know much about the culture, history etc. This ignorance translates into indifference on part of our babus in Delhi. This is not some wishful 'all Indians are my brothers' theory - this is a definite issue and will translate into gains in the long run. It will also increase our self confidence when dealing with China, which, alas, we don't have much of now.

Foreign aid and Realpolitik

2010-08-21T20:21:00.006+05:30

Okay, so the Pakistan govt is not above playing politics on accepting aid from arch-enemy India. Looks like they have accepted it after some hemming and hawing. However, my question was this: Are we above playing politics here?

Consider this: why did the PM offer only $5m? It works out to around Rs. 22 crore. What would one do with that? I think the number is too small to look meaningful. We might as well not offer any aid, or just offer supplies without mentioning any monetary value. If we offer aid, it should be a serious offer, not something we hope they won't take. I think our govt. felt that offering a bigger amount would be politically inconvenient, especially since parliament is in session and the govt. is looking to pass the nuke liability bill. Also, talks with Pakistan aren't going well, and Kashmir isn't exactly happy right now. They don't want any issues from the opposition. So they make an offer that won't make waves domestically (after, who cares about just $5 million?), and one that mostly won't be accepted readily by Pakistan. Most of this calculation worked, and Pakistan did not accept it initially (after all, they have their own politics to attend to), the US and others waded in, asking them to accept it, etc. Finally, with a show of reluctance, they did accept it. Okay, so no harm done.

But, consider this: we regard ourselves as an emerging power with global ambitions. That means we must have influence around the world, and be able to project soft power backed by hard power anywhere anytime. We should play this properly if we want to be taken seriously. We did do a good job after the tsunami: the Indian Navy was hard at work when the US Navy arrived to provide relief in Indonesia and Sri Lanka. This was in spite of being hit by the tsunami ourselves. Sure, Indonesia and Sri Lanka aren't viewed like Pakistan is, but, still, it was an important humanitarian gesture that we could deliver on. If we can go to Indonesia immediately after the tsunami, what prevents us from packing a train with rice (FCI godowns are rotting with surplus food) and sending it across Wagah? Why did we wait until mid-Aug to even offer this aid? We could have just send some supplies of blankets and tents, etc. I am sure it will go a long way towards how we are perceived on the ground in Pakistan. Also, if we want to be a real global power, we have to settle our issues with our neighbours at some point, only then can we look outside of the sub-continent. These gestures will help someone on the ground, and hopefully remember us for that, and in the long run, help our perception there.

Realpolitik apart, let's go back to the offer itself: $5 million. It may not sound like peanuts to some, so consider the following:
What India has offered as aid:

1. Katrina: $5 million + supplies
India offered to contribute $5 million to the United States Red Cross for relief and rehabilitation of the victims. They also offered to donate medicines and large water purification systems for use in households and small communities in the stricken areas, where potable water was a key concern.[24] India sent tarps, blankets and hygiene kits. An Indian Air Force IL-76 aircraft delivered 25 tonnes of relief supplies for the Hurricane Katrina victims at the Little Rock Air Force Base, Arkansas on September 13, 2005. Source

2. Haiti: $5 million + re-building

3. Sri Lanka, post war: $100 + $382 million(!) Source

4. Sri Lanka, post tsunami: (Immediate) Relief in kind Source

5. Afghanistan reconstruction: $1.2 Billion (!)
"...New Delhi has pledged $1.2 billion in aid to Afghanistan, making India the fifth largest donor nation to the country after..." Source

6. Pakistan flooding: $5 million, no mention of supplies, etc., offer came 2 weeks after flooding started (?) Source

Okay that's we have to offered. Now, what about others?

* EU: $179.4m
* US: $156.8m
* UK: $100m
* Saudi Arabia: $65.3m plus $40m uncommitted pledges
* Australia: $31.6m plus $225,000 uncommitted pledges
* UN Central Emergency Response Fund: $26.6m
* Germany: $12.4m plus $20.3m uncommitted pledges
Source

Cash strapped UK is offering 100 mil? Surely, we can do better than that? We are the next door neighbours and can do more if we want to. Remember, we quickly sent relief materials after the Kashmir earthquake, and relations weren't exactly rosy back then.

I am no fan of Pakistan's antics towards us, but I think we should have responded with more alacrity and credibility. For a country sitting on $280 billion in foreign reserves, we can offer a wee little more, I am sure the displaced people will not grudge us for that. Finally, if we want to be taken seriously as a global player, we should punch at our weight, and not at this 'small' level.

Seattle Rain

2009-07-13T08:25:00.005+05:30

Wonder of wonders... It actually rained today in Seattle (and it is as I write this). And what surprised and behooved me to write this blog post after a year is that today, I actually welcomed this rain. Sipping my cuppa of steaming filter coffee, watching the rain fall in sheets, and listening to thunder rumbling overhead, I felt transported back home to where the monsoons are in (almost) full force. To complement this scene, playing some old Hindi tracks made me nostalgic about my childhood in Bombay, where it rains continuously for a month during this time of the year. I still recall my dad and I wearing full length raincoats and stepping out early in the morning to catch our respective buses, my dad for work, and yours truly for the kindergarten bus. The best part of this was that in spite of the full raincoats, one would still get drenched going to school and while coming back. But life would go on despite the rain. It was heartening to watch thousands of commuters catching their 7.24 to VT or Churchgate and the trains driving through driving rain to get to their destinations. Rain was almost part of life, it was a benevolent force that made people happy, and brought stunning greenery in the Ghats, and desolation in beaches which were favoured only by seagulls and lovers. And what a coincidence, my computer, while randomly playing old songs, chose to play Pyaar hua ikraar hua from Shree 420, a song picturing a couple in the same monsoon rain in what was then 1950s Bombay. Looks like even my PC can think :-)

Two scenes stand vividly in my mind as though I saw them yesterday: the furious crashing waves of the Arabian Sea on the rocky coastline of Marine Drive in Bombay, and really hard rain in Besant Nagar beach in Madras - events separated by approximately 15 years. The first was when I was 5 years old, seen from the safety of a bus running along Marine Drive. The second was seen from my bicycle, having cycled 8 kilometres in heavy rain with a friend, just to see the sea and enjoy hot crispy bajjis and tea on the beach. Two different experiences in two different cities, but the same rain.

Now for the third experience, where am I sitting and watching the rain fall down from the comfort of my apartment, in a different continent altogether, but the same summer rain, nevertheless.

Though I prefer the sun to rain, somehow the sun does not evoke any such memories or nostalgia... Now, why is that?

Water falls everywhere but not a drop to drink!

2008-04-11T03:25:00.006+05:30

Whew! Another episode of the Cauvery issue came to an end (hopefully). This issue seems to have lasted longer than the longest TV show (or mega serials, as they are known in India).

I thought I should wade in and add a few thoughts and attempt to put things in perspective.

First, there is no prima facie case for Karnataka to rake up any issue. This was why the (interim) Karnataka government did not start or get involved in this episode. It also helped that this interim government is not run by politicians, but by bureaucrats under the President's authority. Hogenakkal water supply scheme was settled bilaterally between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu way back in 1998. The following articles enable one to ascertain some facts.

Editorial: A dose of practicality

The 1998 story of Hogenakkal

As mentioned in these articles, the water is for drinking purposes only and will be drawn from Tamil Nadu's share of the water downstream from the state border near Hogenakkal. The quantum of water to be realized by Tamil Nadu at the Mettur reservoir, stipulated by the Cauvery Water Disputes Tribunal, will be reduced by the water utilized by the Hogenakkal scheme. This means that Karnataka will not be affected in any way by this scheme.

A long pending election is approaching and the parties need some issue. What better than Cauvery? After much uncertainty and law and order problems on both sides of the state border, a temporary solution was announced by the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, putting this project on hold till the conclusion of the state elections in Karnataka. Also, former Karnakata Chief Minister S.M. Krishna quickly endorsed the Tamil Nadu Chief Minister's statement since there was no point beating a dead carcass.

However, the deplorable thing here was the behaviour, albeit of a narrow section of the political fringe, indulging in bus burning and destruction of property, providing periods of intense worry to all. People should not get carried away by the utterances of some political leader in search of issues. I hope more sense prevails next time (and there will be a next time, coinciding with the next election!).

P.S.: Hogenakkal is known for its beautiful water falls, where the Cauvery crosses the border into Tamil Nadu. However, the surrounding Dharmapuri district is parched and this scheme was intended to supply water there.

Tata - JLR

2008-04-01T05:16:00.006+05:30

A while back, I was elated to find the words 'A Tata Enterprise' on a box of Tetley Tea bags. I was musing about whether Tata would do a Tetley again, with respect to two British icons in the auto industry. You can find a link to these ramblings here.

Now, during the past month, it has turned into a reality. Tata officially bought out Ford Motor Company's controlling stake in Jaguar and Land Rover for a sum of $2.3bn. Now that Tata owns these marquees, should my next automobile be a Jag? Maybe, if I find the words 'A Tata Enterprise' somewhere on the logo...!

Wishing the new entity and the respected parent group continued success.

Growing Up...

2007-12-27T21:48:00.004+05:30

The villain was being bashed up left, right and centre by the hero. Rajinikant, or Superstar, as he is affectionately called by his fans, was having a field day. The movie was rather a damp squib (I can imagine some fans' blood pressure climbing if they come across such a statement!), but not for us back then. We were enjoying the movie, and my cousin was literally jumping up and down in the small space between the rows of seats in the theatre. The theatre itself was not remarkable, but the experience for us was. The reason: we were a bunch of middle school kids (my jumping-jack cousin was a primary school kid) out for a day having fun.

Cut to the present: most of us would not recall this incident, and none of us would go to the same theatre, and certainly not to a similar movie. We are now grownups, and so have become more mature, sophisticated, and even complicated. The theatre probably has grown up too, I guess, by adding better sound equipment and cooling systems.

I recalled these thoughts when I had visited my home last month. The locality too had grown up in a way, if you would call increased traffic, congestion, more buildings, eat outs, stores and people, as an improvement. Similar to us, the area was more mature, sophisticated and complicated. In short, the city grew with us.

My school started as a single two floor block housing sections of students at each grade (I was then in the first). We had a lot of playground space and fun. Eventually, the school too grew along with us, adding a few more blocks, an auditorium, and some cricket and volleyball infrastructure. By the time I graduated from the school, it had changed beyond recognition. Today, 'beyond recognition' seems to be an understatement, since I myself could not recognize the place, after having spent some 12 years of my life in there! So many kids, faculty, and buildings, so complicated.

My country's economy is posting an impressive 9% growth rate every year. When I was young, that number would barely wheeze past the 3% mark (not to mention that our school economics books would tout that as a really impressive and ideal growth rate!). Over the years, as I grew up, the country too grew, slowly and steadily. Today, the (relatively) grown up country has more of everything, but has also become incredibly complicated and sophisticated.

The reader must be wondering why I am trying to draw some parallels here. Let me confess that though I am drawing parallels between the growth of my city, school, country and myself, there is no deep reasoning behind it. It is just an observation that along with myself, so many aspects of my life have changed as though they were all marching in tandem. Doubtless many will have observed the same things, so I will not be so conceited in claiming that these growth stories coincided only with mine.

A few minutes well spent in fleshing out these thoughts!

Grownups

2007-12-07T20:47:00.001+05:30

They say, the older we grow, the wiser we become. There are innumerable equivalent sayings for this statement in all languages and all regions. One conjures up mental visions of a distinguished looking person with white hair, each of which denotes infinite wisdom, upon reading this statement.

Do we really become wise as we become older? Upon pondering this question, I conclude it is not necessarily true. Of course, one might ask what exactly 'wise' means here. Answering that simple question requires a lot of wisdom. Do I have it? I do not know. Do you have it? Since you are a reader of this blog, I have to conclude that you do. Now, is that a 'wise' conclusion? Not necessarily. I conclude that the reader is wise, so as to not cause offense. But a wise person may not base a conclusion on such considerations.

Let us put this poser to a young person who is, say, all of five years. Would this person's conclusion be the same? Not at all. Since this person is young, (s)he would not understand the niceties and protocols we as adults follow. So, this person's conclusion would be more direct and simple, and may return a verdict of 'not wise'. When we are young, the world is black and white, without any shades of grey. One either likes something or does not. There is no 'Oh I should not offend this person, so I will pretend to like it, and later express my true feelings out of earshot'.

There are innumerable examples to support this. When I was young, I was playing cricket with a few of my (grown up) relatives. We had a good game going, but there was a point when I called one of the players (my grandmother's brother, actually, a really nice gentleman) a 'cheat' in front of everybody. I did so because he had been bowled out, but did not give up his bat. To me, that was cheating, and hence the verbal outburst. There is no way I would do that now, since I am an adult, and we adults do not call a spade, a spade. But, as an adult, would that be a 'wise' choice? No, because it is cheating, and yes, because the person is so senior that respect comes first.

It is not possible to be truthful always. Remember Jim Carrey in "Liar Liar". For those who are not familiar with this film, Jim Carrey is a lawyer who lies his way through life, till one day his son wishes that he speak the truth for one whole day. The travails of the truthful lawyer is captured nicely. This film highlights why we use euphemisms and politeness to mask our true feelings.

That said, I myself cannot help but follow politeness in life. Calling someone a 'cheat' would land me in trouble, even if I were right.

And kids always wish to be grownups!

Enterprising Tata...Or Pax Indica?

2007-12-06T08:23:00.000+05:30

A simple act like purchasing some tea bags can trigger emotions within oneself. Hard to believe? See the bottom of this photo...

In 1600, Britain laid the foundation for Pax Britannica and the Raj with the East India Company, an economic enterprise. Are we now reversing 347 years of colonial conquest of India by Britain? Looks like it, does it not? Tata Tea bought British tea giant Tetley in 2005. This was followed by the acquisition of Anglo-Dutch Corus Steel by another Tata group giant, Tata Steel. Tata seems to be on a roll, especially with British enterprises. I certainly felt gratified to see the words "A Tata Enterprise" on this pack. What next? Will the phrase be associated with two other icons of British industry, namely Jaguar and Rover? Only time will tell. Pax Indica, anyone?

A taste of things to come...!

2007-11-27T02:22:00.000+05:30

On exiting the apartment building one morning last week, I am confronted by this image. Wow! How can one go to work in these circumstances? I cannot see anything from within? Maybe I need one of those infra-red goggles! No, all I required was a simple snow brush to brush off the snow and scrape off the ice beneath it. But of course, I did not possess one! Typical reactionary am I not? Since I did not equip myself in advance, I had to roll a plastic bag around my hand and scrape off the snow (thankfully, there was no ice underneath). Of course, I do not want to mention that after I got inside the car, I had to wait ten minutes to get some iota of feeling in my hands, so that I could start the (brrr...cold) engine and eventually get some warm air. Sounds like fun, is it not? For you, it may be morning blues, alas, for me it is the morning whites and ice.

Whither goes thou, queried I, on a bored and lazy Californian afternoon. Born out of that simple but profound query, came one of my (more) pointless postings. Well, I did not go much geographically, except to this snow-forsaken not-as-cold-as-Canada state of Vermont (contrast that with sunny and chill Texas, where one could go to the corner store in shorts!). And right away, I was served with some appetizing hors d'oeuvres, which would, one assumes in any restaurant, foretell a taste of things to come. Before you start thinking of some real food, let me relieve you of such appetizing thoughts (my stomach actually rumbled as I wrote this line!). That reference to food was a metaphor to the first snowfall of the season in Vermont. The main courses (here they do a mutli-course meal) are going to be heavier, so I might in the future realize the need to buy a snow shovel, or, better, a snowmobile to dig my car out of piled up snow and somehow drive to work on snowbound roads... The warning signs are already in place: we saw a barely positive temperature today, after only 4 days! Of course, being the reactionary I am, I will probably wait for this catastrophe to occur before equipping myself further. For now, a snow brush would suffice.

P.S. I do not think it would be so bad, but I would reserve my opinion till April, assuming I am not buried under a layer of snow!!

Gen Next (Squared)

2007-10-08T01:04:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, my friend Suraj had mentioned about a memo at his workplace regarding treatment of of people who were born after the year 1982. Considering that I hail from the unruly bunch born that infamous year, I was curious about the background for this memo. Apparently, people born during these years, in general, grew up with lots of comforts compared to others (PCs, the Web, Napster, Walkman, 247 24x7 channnels, etc.). Since they are so pampered, they need special treatment, such as daily encouragement, interesting and fast-developing work assignments, and so on, according to the memo.

This just got me thinking about this so-called pampered generation. I applied it to my childhood, which, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on which side of the Atlantic (or Pacific, if you may) you hail from, was set in post-Indira Gandhi India.

So let me list all the facilities I was pampered with:

- 3x7 TV (Yes, that reads as 3 hours per day and 7 days a week!): This was limited to one channel of (oh, what horrors!) Doordarshan, and we were forced to watch what the proud mandarins at New Delhi decided was good for us. Then there was this regional language film that played weekly in a language that most could not understand and no subtitles to boot! Of course, usually the TV would be a B&W (for Gen-post 1982, that reads as Black and White!) with a colour filter screen on top to provide some semblance of colour.

- Music: Well, we had good access to music, but only on Radio and once a week on TV. Walkman? Well, men in our society did walk a lot, due to a long waiting list to buy a car or bike! Oh, sorry, you meant a Sony Walkman cassette player? I have only seen them on those cousins living abroad.

- PCs - What are those? Oh computers! I saw my first computer in 1990, and all it would do was display a butterfly-like thing floating about the screen. I got to see this computer like a darshan one would have of God at a temple, from 10 feet away. Of course, I can recall the noise made by the Communist parties in India in the late eighties, opposing Rajiv Gandhi's one and only plan with a vision to slowly start computerization in Indian government. Back then, I used to wonder just what they were talking about.

- Web, Napster: Got familiar with those only after 1997-'98, or thereabouts.

I seem to have been pampered a lot, haven't I? Wish my dad could read this!

Oh, Suraj then clarified that the memo applied to American kids! Of course! How silly of me...

Let us also think about the post 1995 generation for a moment.

- Constant music inside the ear drums, belting out one obscenity after the other. Battery out? No problem, plug it to the nearest laptop's USB port. You can also download songs from the net, from any era, and legally too! Where is dad's credit card?

- Cell phone with music? No, lots more! Cell phone to talk, listen (not to the other person on the line, but to music), plus navigate your way to the nearest McDonalds, and also browse latest trends on the Internet. Oh I forgot, you can snap an instant picture of yourself anytime on that 3 mega-pixel camera on the phone itself! Talk about a daily ego-massage :).

Scenario: Yesterday, Verizon's cellphone network was down, and let us couple that to a power cut due to a hurricane. No cell, no laptop, no charging station, no directions, no music, no McDonalds (because I do not know the way down the road)! I will go crazy! The entire generation will go crazy!

Wake up! I belong only to the pampered post-1982 generation, and thankfully, Indira Gandhi had prepared me to face the worst!

Diversifying my portfolio

2007-08-29T05:32:00.000+05:30

One might, looking at the title of this post, wonder if I have entered the of-late none-too-stable financial markets, or worse, intend to discourse about the benefits of financial thrift. To put such minds at rest, let me clarify at the outset that I do not intend to pursue either of the paths mentioned above, lest I lose my none-too-stable mind! Well, my mind is not exactly unstable, but is resonantly approaching instability (technical people might understand what I mean here). Before I go off-topic, let me come to the gist of the matter.

I decided to start another blog! For those who think this blog is one blog too many, I am sorry, since I have already acted upon my decision. For those who might be curious about just what I can write about in another blog (there is not much activity here, in the first place), I intend the other blog to be devoted to one of my hobbies. Most people might not call this a respectable hobby, but alas, some hobbies are inborn, according to me, and not just picked up. If you are indeed interested in checking it out, you may click here, or click on the link on to the left, called 'Basin Bridge'.

My apologies in advance if you feel you have wasted five minutes of your precious time!

Celebrating History and Heritage

2007-07-31T00:55:00.000+05:30

Here in Stateside, one sees celebrations for founding days for many cities, big or small. I have even come across trips being advertised for a city's founding day. This city had apparently turned 166 years old (I am unable to recall the exact age). One can also see people enthusiastically celebrating such anniversaries.

Looking at this, one can only wonder why can we not celebrate founding days or birthdays for our cities in India? Most of these cities we know of in India are al least 200+ years old, with some venerable 'senior city-zens' amonsgt them. Some notables here (figures in years): Delhi: 900+? Patna: 2000+? Bangalore: ~1000. There are innumerable cities that are as old or older than the above-mentioned.

One might cynically say that 'celebrating city birthdays' are another Western import. True enough, but remember one thing: anything that is plenty is often taken for granted. Food is taken for granted in the West, and history is, in India. We do not need to celebrate a city's birthday to emphasize its importance. But such a celebration creates awareness amongst people from other places, and a sense of pride amongst residents. One the whole, such celebrations could create a shared feeling of pride for all of our history (ancient as well as modern).

In this context, I would like to mention the Madras Day celebrations, due to be held in the third week of August. This festival is to celebrate the 369th founding day of modern Madras City. The city was established on August 22, 1639, and was the first Presidency in British India. Such celebrations need participation from all, hence my post here. Of course, I can hear people say that the British colonized us, and so there is nothing to celebrate. Let me mention here that history includes everything that happened in the past, good and bad. The establishment of a city was definitely a good thing. So, instead of acting like an ostrich, sticking one's head in a bush, let us acknowledge our past and cherish it with pride.

369 years might not sound too old, compared to the cities I mentioned above. True, but one needs to start someplace. Let me also mention that though Madras might be 369 years old, two of its localities are much older. Mylapore is around 500 years old, with some inscriptions dating as early as 1250 CE. Also, it is believed that the saint-poet Thiruvalluvar was born here, anywhere between 100-600 CE. To celebrate Mylapore's rich cultural history came the annual Mylapore Festival. Another locality called Triplicane or Tiruvellikeni is also at least 400 years old, and has its own local festival, based on the Mylapore festival.

I hope people recognize where they come from and have pride in that, and continue to celebrate and value the heritage left with them. I have mentioned celebrations in Madras only, for I am most familiar with that city, and would like to know more about similar festivals elsewhere. I do believe that such celebrations are widespread and growing in our cities.

Happy Birthday Madras!

A long standing Indian icon

2007-07-18T23:40:00.000+05:30

One of my friends mentioned this article about the Ambassador in the L.A. Times, and I was curious to find what the columnist had to say about one of India's icons. So, I wound up at this page, thanks to the ever obliging Google.

Being from a family that used to sport not less than three Ambys (as the car is fondly called) at home, I admit I had some nostalgic memories when I navigated to this site. Not surprisingly, I was quickly disabused of my notions about expecting some nostalgia-evoking sentences. One phrase about the car not being able to overtake even a wandering cow made me shout 'b****y murder'. Now, we all know that the line was an exaggeration, but still I could not help but feel strongly about it.

Ambys are good or bad members of India's automobile fraternity, depending on where you are positioned within the same. When you are on a bike, you want to shout at a bad (Amby) driver, who does not move, nor lets any body else move. One point to note here is that an Amby is a pretty big car for Indian roads, so it commands a lot of premium road space. There have been times when I myself have screamed my frustration at an Amby that sits on the middle of the road like a (deaf) buffalo.

Now for some positives. If you sitting inside an Amby, you feel like the king of the road. And usually, you are not alone in the car. There have been plenty of instances when entire families (some families like mine can stretch to 10+ people) share a ride on a single Amby! I have seen with my own eyes, ten people of various shapes and sizes, fitting into a single Amby, and the car actually ferried them with ease! Also, I must admit that I was once a member of such a party! If you are in an Amby, you get a comfy ride (by Indian standards of old) on any typical battered road. Maybe that is why tourist taxis still prefer to get Ambys over Omnis (a minivan), though an Amby is not much of a competitor to a Qualis (an SUV). I can recall more than quite a few long trips in Ambys, and I have fared none the worse for them. Needless to say, we did successfully overtake a few 'wandering cows'! One more advantage: if somebody rams your Amby, chances are that the somebody has a problem, and not you. This can be attributed to the predominantly lower speeds and that the Amby is so heavy and sturdy that it can probably handle the situation without any safety features like crumple zones of airbags. Of course, one needs these safety features on all cars, regardless of speeds, etc., so I hope the manufacturers do include them in the future.

Amby is a dying car today, as it has to compete with Toyotas, Fords, Hondas, etc. and it does not stand a chance against them. However, for those who recall the old magic of this icon, those who call her 'the Queen of Indian roads', the Amby will forever reside in memory for years to come. It certainly shall, in mine.

The Ambassador - An Indian icon.

Whither goes thou?

2007-07-12T05:18:00.001+05:30

Whither goes thou? I remember reading this phrase somewhere, but cannot remember where. Probably The Hindu, where I learned most of my English. Whither, for the uninformed, means, "where to", and is not use in everyday English.

To answer my own question, I do not know. Maybe I will start pondering the meaning of life, and thinking of a good answer to this question twenty or thirty years down the road of life, but I am penning my thoughts now for my memory, which, I suspect would become progressively leaky over time. Time is the great healer, one hears people say, but, sir, time also deletes many things as part of this acclaimed healing process. A small digression here, if I may. The 'sir' in the previous sentence is a mere expression, and not sexist in anyway. I am afraid I have to clarify this right away, or I would be assailed by a bevy of people beginning with my dear sisters! That 'sir' (again) is the nature of this world today. One must not in the least insinuate that the fairer sex is weaker in any way, lest be verbally assailed by all and sundry.

You might wonder what I am trying to convey here. Quite frankly, I am still trying to figure that one out. I was filled with this irresistible urge to write something, after witnessing my colleagues blogging away to glory. Well, me too! Also, starting on philosophy, which is a profound topic on a good day, guarantees that one can let one's thoughts wander all over this world and how many more there are out there.

Whither goes thou? I really do not know. Maybe I will, one day, and I hope to be young enough to write something in whatever technology that advanced age spawns.

See you soon..!!

Coffee

2007-03-01T10:30:00.001+05:30

Coffee...Kaapi...Cafe'...Kaafi...

People have various names and various flavours for this beverage. Some have it hot, some have it cold, some have it iced. Again, some have it black, some with cream, some with milk. Instant, brewed, drip and filtered. There are varities of the beans themselves, usually geographically distinguished (Brazilian, Columbian, Arabica, and closer to home, Coorg, Nilgiri and so on). The options go on and on.

Currently, I am sipping a cup of coffee to set my mood and let my fingers fly over the keyboard, as I reminisce about this really wonderful and potent drink. For me, a day without coffee is a day without purpose. Pardon me, but like some of you Starbucks aficionados, I also have very strong views about my coffee. For instance, black coffee is a waste of good coffee beans. Any coffee without milk, strength and sugar is not worth the effort. This brings me in line with the South Indian filter coffee. You can read more about the history and social importance of filter coffee at this wiki. Let me talk about my feelings for coffee.

One gets up early in the morning (say 8 o'clock - that is early enough for me, though some purists will want their coffee earlier than that!). One goes into the kitchen, only to see water boiling on the stove, and the filter ready to take the day's first load of coffee powder (in India, we mix coffee with some chicory, which actually adds to the taste). One puts in some coffee powder, and pours in the boiling water with a flourish, and take the lid, tap the top of the filter with it, and close it. One goes outside, just to see the morning's paper waiting to divulge its share of daily misery. Remember, though we say man's failures make the front page and his successes make the last page (thanks to my school friend Srivaths Swaminathan, who quoted this very truthful nugget to me), I still think it is all daily misery because there is usually some news item to overshadow the good news (remember 359/2 in 50 overs at Jo'berg?). In my humble opinion, coffee helps processing such news without much concern.

Anyway, enough rambling. By now, the filter has done its job with admirable alacrity, considering the earliness of the hour. One goes back to the kitchen in haste, to savour the first coffee of the day as fresh and as hot as possible. So, taking some decoction (some have corrupted this into de-kaa-shion!) in a dabarah (please refer Wikipedia for more about this utensil), one adds some milk and heats it on the stove, periodically transferring the milk between the tumbler (you guessed it! Wiki again!) and the dabarah with an arc like flourish. To hold the hot dabarah, one uses tongs, called 'idukki' in Tamil. This process is repeated till the coffee is hot and there is a thick frothy layer of coffee on the top of the tumbler. That process completed, one retires to the hall, settles down with the coffee and the newspaper (I prefer The Hindu).

In the meantime, the morning's activities pick up speed outside, with people of all ages leaving for their jobs (school is like a job, for it starts so early in the morning!). The coffee by now is consumed with zest, and the paper browsed in detail. Time for a second round! In some households, there are actually two rounds of coffee preparation in the morning itself, irrespective of the filter's size. This is, in addition to the evening round around 7 o'clock, when the folks are back from work, play or class, and dinner is in preparation.

A bit about the importance of good coffee. Many grandfathers in the south of India would not taste the coffee made by anyone other than their wives, so particular are they about the consistency and strength of the coffee. Any social gathering usually entails the removal of a huge filter (it is around 3 feet tall by itself, and pretty thick, as big as a small child!) from storage, and the purchase of quite a few kilos of fresh coffee. Bad coffee can undo any occasion, so great care is taken to prepare good coffee, and lots of it.

Anyone who has coffee made this way, would be familiar with a trip to the local coffee store. Time was, when there were no chains of coffee retailers like Coorg, Tata or Coffee Day. I remember going to a local store with my dad, to purchase a kilo of coffee. It was in the evening around 7 o'clock, and I noticed the storefront from across the road. The board was painted dark blue, and big white English and Tamil letters with a plain font proclaimed 'Mylapore Coffee House', or whatever the name of the establishment was. The board was lit by a dim and dusty tube light, and on the whole, presented a classic 1950's look. We entered this store, where of course we had an account, and knew the owner for quite many years. The following description
would hold true for any such store: the interior is conservatively painted in dark shades of blue, and there is a long table in the front separating the customers and the store keeper. This table is usually made of old quality wood, and there is a slow fan creaking from the Madras terrace roof. On one side of the table, there is a weighing scale, with an analog needle pointer. Behind that sits the store keeper, who is usually the owner, and usually a senior person, wearing spectacles and reading the morning's newspaper (I personally noticed The Hindu most times). On seeing us, he closes the paper and gets the order. The order is passed on to the assistant, who selects the beans, weighs it, adds a few extra beans, but not too many, and then feeds it to the machine, which cranks to life with some reluctance. The aroma of coffee wafts around the store, and after a few minutes, we are richer by a kilo of fresh coffee powder, whose delights would be savoured early next morning :)

Laziness

2007-02-05T07:28:00.000+05:30

An ideal afternoon...

It is 12:30 on a slow weekday, and I am sitting idle at home, not having anything to do. Of course, the day was one the many I was officially given to prepare for my semester exams, but note here the qualifying word 'many'. As the modern version of Kabir went, 'Kal kare to parson kar, parson kare to kabhi nahi...' (meaning: if there is something to do tomorrow, do it the day after, and if there is something for the day after, do it never... :)). I was a committed follower of this wonderful 'doha', which also seems to find a rabid following among college students.

So here I am, sitting idle at 12:30, just having finished a sustaining repast the English speaking world calls lunch (or sometimes, dinner) . I turn the TV on, but there is nothing of interest (thanks to the conditional access system so lovingly implemented only in Madras out of the entire India). After listlessly changing between BBC world and NDTV, I decide to read, which I knew would inevitably be followed by a longish nap. So I grab a book (I do not remember which), and settle on my bed. My current posture is stretching my legs on the bed, but sitting upright leaning on a mountain of three cushions. I start reading...

One hour later: the only sound around is that of the ceiling fan, and I slightly change my posture, now lying on the bed properly. I keep reading for a while, after which the sun also changes its posture such that my room is in shadow and there is a comfortable darkness around. This darkness is enough to sleep without light irritating one's eyes, and also slightly uncomfortable for reading. I continue reading trying to resist sleep, which by now I know is inevitable. As a concession to my (now) sleepy self, I remove a pillow from underneath my head and settle it beneath my knees and get a blanket for myself. I am now feeling at the peak of comfort and laziness, such that in a few minutes, the book slides off my now lazy fingers and my eyes close shut. Peace!

The next thing I know, it is even more dark (or it appears such to my sleepy eyes). I squint at the clock and discover it is 3 o'clock! No sooner than my mind registers this fact, my stomach lets out a timely rumble! I get up, raid the kitchen, where I can find only a few Marie biscuits. I look out the window, and it is really dark. The entire sky is covered with menacing black clouds, and there is a very slight but chilly wind. The street outside is completely still; not even the crows want to disturb the tranquility.

Ding...Ding...Ding...Dong! I can hear this pattern of sound from the next street. I know what this means! A timely afternoon snack! After a long wait of five minutes, the source of this noise (or was it music?) turns the corner onto my street. I grab a few coins and go out to the gate. The guy notices me and comes over. Some money changes hands, and I am left with a (news)paper wrapped packet of warm roasted groundnuts. Just holding the packet gives me so much pleasure! I quickly hurry inside, for the clouds above me decide to water the city's plants, and warn me in advance with a slight drizzle. I resume my position on my bed, but discover that it really too dark to read there. So I repair to the hall and settle on the carpet with my book and the snack. Soon, the watering of the city starts in real earnest, and I can smell the dusty Indian earth (what a wonderful smell - it puts you in such a good mood!). I quickly finish my snack, enjoying it all the while. After this, I quickly make some hot tea (I am a coffee guy, at evenings I love my tea), and really settle down to enjoy the scene. Warm groundnuts ground by one's teeth, washed down by strong hot and sweet tea, while the ears are busy listening to the sound of rain, and the eyes reading the words line by line, the body lays at peace, not having much work to do and the mind enjoying the very laziness of it all. What an experience!

Oh to be so lazy again!

2007...

2007-01-01T12:34:00.000+05:30

Here I am sitting in my apartment, time playing heavily on my hands. Some other apartment in my complex is making sure that the world would not miss the turn of the year, by making enough noise for all of us. Anyway, I thought, why not think of something positive? This was followed by: what better thought than greet as many people as possible on this occasion (the earth grew older by a year)? So here I am, typing these few words and hoping someone would read it. Even if one person reads this, my effort is not wasted.

Well, here we go: Happy New Year 2007!!!

Also, if you are lucky enough to be home, enjoy all the sweets and savouries you can lay your hands on! Think of all of us who subsist on Taco Bell! I consoled myself by paying a visit to the local IHOP :) Last year this time, I was enjoying the post-meal contentment of an obviously tasty Tandoori/Indian/Chinese meal. Mmmmm...... This was after a visit to the famous 'Gap', as my friends and I called it. FYI: 'Gap' is a evening only Samosa-Cutlet-Pakora-Bajji-and more outlet, situated right next to Adyar Bakery in Adyar, Madras-600020, India. More FYI: Gap = Nirvana! Let me stop rambling here. More on this nirvana later....

Wishing good luck to you all... in whatever you want to do....

Arunkundram?

2006-12-28T12:28:00.000+05:30

You can see that I have called this blog Arunkundram. If you are interested I can tell you the what it is. It is my middle name, and that of everybody in my family.

Arunkundram is a village (supposedly my ancestral village, though for three generations my family has settled in Madras) in Vellore Dist., or more familiarly to some, North Arcot District. It is some 15 odd kilometres from Arcot town, off the National Highway 45. Despite its proximity to the highway, one cannot find a more typical village. I will explain later.

This place is reached by a road, which back in '99, was as bumpy as any rural road in India is. I remember travelling to this place in '99 with some of my folks.

We reached Arcot around 10:00, and the day was starting to be any typical summer day in India. It was already around 38-39 degrees C, and there was a promise of hotter weather ahead. Undaunted, we hired a rick (or an auto, if you please) from the Arcot bus terminus. A bus, we were told would soon go that way, soon here meaning any time in the next 1-4 hrs.! Talk about Indian Stretchable Time! So a rick it would be, and there were 5 of us, all adults!

Squeezed in the narrow available space, we bravely ventured out. One can understand the capacity of an auto only when you squeeze in. It is like an Amby: you load whatever you want, and the vehicle moves without complaint. I then realized then that it held true for our autos too :). Talk about 'hamara Bajaj'! (FYI: Most autos down south are made by Bajaj)

The auto driver filled some petrol, and we were on our way. He took a side road, and another side road and yet another, when we finally crossed a board saying "Arunkundram 10 k.m.". I am not sure of these numbers, but you get the idea. The road till here was pretty smooth, and the surroundings were pretty much bucolic. It was like you could be anywhere, and the same scene repeats. Row after row of fields, with someone toiling bare backed under the merciless sun, and a few bullock carts on the road, carrying one thing or the other. We would cross the odd tempo, carrying cargo or passengers, and the lone bus. I suppose this was the one would have waited for, in Arcot. Heaven knows when it would return.

Of course, there were signs of development everywhere: our road was accompanied by telephone cables and power lines, and we crossed a 110kV TNEB sub-station. Also, I could see street lights on the electric posts, so I suppose my 'native place' wasn't really native. It looked quite developed.

Or so I thought! Soon after the power station, the nice road ended, and the auto driver told us to brace ourselves. Potholes! Lots of them! There was no road worth the name. Accompanied to the sound of squeaking shock absorbers (they could do only so much), we grimly held on. I thought, so much for development! You lay a road to a village, and stop the work halfway through. What was the point? Some babu in the local Panchayant Union would provide some obscure reason for not finishing the road. I hope they have fixed the problem by now....

This road continued for some time, and finally we neared the village. The road became better as soon as we entered the village. Note: Better here is relative, meaning less potholes, but better, nevertheless. We passed an Indian Bank, a school, a couple of big houses, and many smaller houses. These houses wore the typical look: a verandah (or pyol) on both sides of the entrance, roof sloping down on the entrance, supported by two round sold looking pillars, a low entrance, and darkness beyond. However, usually these houses would have a central area open to sunlight, with rooms all around, and the entire house would have Bangalore tiles (I think that was what they called it) on the roof.

One thing I need to mention here: many of these houses had a cable TV connection, provided by an enterprising local, who had mounted a couple of dish antennas on his roof, and ran the show. I had not been to any village before, and this was something surprising for me.

Anyway, we arrived at the village square: a huge banyan tree under which sat the elders of the place, discussing something as always, a temple and its tank, a tea shop (of course!), and a few stray dogs. Typical village, was it not? This was our stop; we alighted, and went to temple, and etc. Once done, we came back to this 'square' in search of transport back, and rediscovered the tea shop. After the usual chai and butter biscuits (wah chai!), we learned that a tempo would pass by soon. It was some 20 minutes later, and my bro and I clambered aboard the rear of the tempo after helping our folks up. What a ride! Phew! The tempo driver made a mincemeat of the potholes...he just flew over them, with all of us hanging for dear life in the back. My aunt, however, was comfortably seated in the front cab, and did not find anything wrong. Lucky her :) All said and done, we reached Arcot town, and decided to grab a bite.

One of my uncles had mentioned a place called Swamy's Cafe that served good fare, though we found out that Swamy's was actually located in Eluru in A.P.! My uncle, who traveled to Eluru frequently, had probably got confused, though he denies it to this day! Anyway, we were hungry and looking for an eatery. My brother and I spotted a sign in the distance, which said 'Mani Achchagam', and the sign looked like that of a restaurant. We told our folks that there is a place ahead, and when they looked at it, they startted laughing! It seems 'Achchagam' means printing press! And we thought it was a restaurant! We finally found a place, had some nice crispy masala dosas and the ubiquitous filter coffee, and finally boarded a bus back home.

It was a nice little trip that I will not forget....

Musings

2006-12-11T00:02:00.000+05:30

When I was a young kid attending primary school, the one main pleasure in my life then was the last day of school for that year. My school did not have exams till we reached class V, and so we did not have the exam fear (and results) to cloud our final days. And usually, Madras in the first week of April provided us with clear blue skies, and just a hint of cirrus clouds way above. Even nature seemed to agree with our anticipation! It was an anticipation of two months of sheer fun, play, and more fun.

On April 5 (give or take a day either way), I would go to school with my heart ready to burst with excitement. All classes would be boring and too long (that never really changed, even today :) ), and all of us would be looking out the window or discussing among ourselves our plans for the vacation. Even the teachers would feel it and would never admonish us for talking. That week would be the noisiest in our school year.

Around 14:30, our neighbouring school, St. Michael's would close for the day, and their students would be leaving by the road adjoining our school. The result: an upswing of noise, and building up of excitement for the liberation time: 15:30!

Chatter, chatter, everywhere! Even the teachers would stop doing what they were doing, and start discussing our plans! A vicarious pleasure I appreciate better almost 20 years later.

The minutes would roll by slowly, and those who had watches, would be impatiently looking at them, willing it to move faster. Along with the passing minutes, the noise would reach a crescendo, as the senior years (after class V, those who had final exams), would also catch the fever.

15:20...15:25...15:29....and finally 15:30!!!! The school peon would ring the bell more rigorously
than usual, and with a cry of eagerness, excitement and sheer joy, all of us would run out of the classrooms and make for the gates.

No school for two months! No work for two months! Two months of pure joy and fun! Two months of unlimited laziness!

We can no longer afford this luxury, because we are grown up. We now have to pay for such luxury!

Wish I were still in school!