(Some thoughts that came out of a twitter stream last night. Thought they should have been here in the first place. Excuse any incoherence, I just slapped this together from the tweets).
Been brooding about this term "worldclass", heard plentifully these days in connection with sundry airports, Games, and the like. What is this word anyway? Do we become so only by building shiny new stuff? What about by making existing systems work?
I mean, why is the litter and trash on my street picked up by a woman carrying two pieces of cardboard and a basket on wheels? The *same* woman has walked my street with those (same?) cardboards for 10+ years now. Is that worldclass? Should it be?
We make much of Delhi's new terminal 3 (T3) which can handle 33 million passengers a year. A quick calculation, erring on the conservative side where necessary, tells me that Churchgate station can handle … take a guess, how many? … 150 million passengers a year. Five times as many as T3. Actually, to me Churchgate is worldclass in merely that ability to handle passengers. Yet have you heard anyone call Churchgate a worldclass station? Dadar? VT? And besides that, will we ever work on our stations to make them shine like T3 does? My wife was at VT this morning and called to remark how filthy it was as she walked through. Are you surprised? Would she say that about T3? What peaks of outrage would we climb if it was indeed filthy, as we run up to the Commonwealth Games?
I mean, Bombay's suburban train system handles close to 2 billion passengers a year, nearly twice the entire population of this country. There is no airport in this country that handles that kind of load. (That's sixty times T3's celebrated capacity). Yet there is almost no airport in this country that is not being revamped feverishly. I am yet to see any serious revamping of any of our stations, let alone feverishly.
I could go on. Roads, education, health, justice, governance, plenty more.
Building shiny things is, in the end, easy. I wish giving that woman something better than cardboard to pick up the trash with were as easy. That would be worldclass.
July 31, 2010
PG Tenzing
Ran across a sad bit of news last night: PG Tenzing died of cancer in Sikkim on Monday July 26. I never knew him, but last year I read and reviewed his book, Don't Ask Any Old Bloke For Directions: A Biker's Whimsical Journey Across India , here.
As you can see, I was critical of the book. But nevertheless, while reading it I got a sense of the spirit of this man, his integrity and wide-ranging interests. (And in fact the substance of my criticism was really that there should have been more of that in the book).
My loss, that I never met PG Tenzing.
As you can see, I was critical of the book. But nevertheless, while reading it I got a sense of the spirit of this man, his integrity and wide-ranging interests. (And in fact the substance of my criticism was really that there should have been more of that in the book).
My loss, that I never met PG Tenzing.
Atul Setalvad
Some words in tribute to a quietly forthright, clear thinking, widely-read lawyer who died on July 22.
I knew Atul Setalvad growing up - our families knew each other well and, especially, he and my father shared a mutual respect that I always sensed. (Something else they shared: Both fathers were also the only ones I knew of whose kids called them by their first names).
But I got to know him better in the early '90s. That was when he fought the case Dilip Thakore and my father filed in the Bombay HC, asking the court to direct the Government of Maharashtra to prosecute Bal Thackeray for his editorials during the 1992-93 riots. It was a tortuous process, lengthened by adjournments allowed for the flimsiest of reasons offered by the counsel for the Shiv Sena. (Once, that he "had not expected the matter to actually come up that day" in court.)
Through it all, Atul (as we all knew him) kept firm and calm. When it finally came up for hearing before a two-judge bench, they began by asking - yes - if Atul's clients "really wanted to press the matter." After all, "much water had passed under the bridge" (which it had, most of all because of adjournments granted to the Shiv Sena) and did the petitioners really want to "rake up all these old issues again?"
Atul simply said the petition had to be heard.
It was, and the two judges dismissed it. They observed once more that much time had passed and it was unwise to "rake up" old issues all over again. The implication is interesting, as several outraged letters in the press pointed out: why, there's no need to punish any crime at all. We should simply let some years pass and then refuse to take action, because old issues should not be "raked up."
Atul had plenty of other court successes too, I'm sure. But I will always remember his patience and grit during that one case. It was dismissed, and maybe he knew that would happen. But he was determined to show to what lengths the police, the government and the judges would go, the twists and turns they would take, to shy away from acting against Bal Thackeray.
In that, he succeeded.
As ever: go well, Atul Setalvad. You inspired me.
I knew Atul Setalvad growing up - our families knew each other well and, especially, he and my father shared a mutual respect that I always sensed. (Something else they shared: Both fathers were also the only ones I knew of whose kids called them by their first names).
But I got to know him better in the early '90s. That was when he fought the case Dilip Thakore and my father filed in the Bombay HC, asking the court to direct the Government of Maharashtra to prosecute Bal Thackeray for his editorials during the 1992-93 riots. It was a tortuous process, lengthened by adjournments allowed for the flimsiest of reasons offered by the counsel for the Shiv Sena. (Once, that he "had not expected the matter to actually come up that day" in court.)
Through it all, Atul (as we all knew him) kept firm and calm. When it finally came up for hearing before a two-judge bench, they began by asking - yes - if Atul's clients "really wanted to press the matter." After all, "much water had passed under the bridge" (which it had, most of all because of adjournments granted to the Shiv Sena) and did the petitioners really want to "rake up all these old issues again?"
Atul simply said the petition had to be heard.
It was, and the two judges dismissed it. They observed once more that much time had passed and it was unwise to "rake up" old issues all over again. The implication is interesting, as several outraged letters in the press pointed out: why, there's no need to punish any crime at all. We should simply let some years pass and then refuse to take action, because old issues should not be "raked up."
Atul had plenty of other court successes too, I'm sure. But I will always remember his patience and grit during that one case. It was dismissed, and maybe he knew that would happen. But he was determined to show to what lengths the police, the government and the judges would go, the twists and turns they would take, to shy away from acting against Bal Thackeray.
In that, he succeeded.
As ever: go well, Atul Setalvad. You inspired me.
July 29, 2010
Two 20
Been several days of quite high fever, an irritating sore throat that won't quite go away (isn't Pepsi supposed to be good for sore throats? there, I thought so). And to top it all Apple has taken my laptop away after two months of trying to fix it, now intending to replace it. All of which, with a generous dose of feeling sorry for myself, explains why I haven't written in this space in a while.
But never fear, hope springs near, or something. Here's something I offer as my commemoration of a monumentally dull Test match filled with meaningless records.
***
Story's told about an old professor of mine who rather fancied his (apparently) Cambridge-educated airs and language, I'll call him Shukla.
Of one wintry evening, dressed in his usual tiptop suit and shiny shoes and woollen scarf, Shukla was standing at the busy Interstate Bus Terminal (ISBT, also and probably better known as Kashmere Gate) in Delhi, watching his myriad students catch their buses to go to their homes. At some point he shook his head, whether in sadness or something else, and was heard to say: "Tch, tch, what an exodus!"
At which a passing conductor stopped and said to him: "Sirjee, yeh ek sau dus nahin hai, do sau bees hai!"
Story's also told about an old friend of mine -- who may be reading this, if so hi -- who was telling this story in the States, to several Americans. And this is more or less what he said:
"So Shukla was standing at this busy bus station, watching his students leave for home. Then he shook his head and said, 'tch, tch, what an exodus!'
"Upon hearing which, a passing conductor stopped and said, 'Sir, this is not a one-ten, this is a two-twenty!'"
But never fear, hope springs near, or something. Here's something I offer as my commemoration of a monumentally dull Test match filled with meaningless records.
Story's told about an old professor of mine who rather fancied his (apparently) Cambridge-educated airs and language, I'll call him Shukla.
Of one wintry evening, dressed in his usual tiptop suit and shiny shoes and woollen scarf, Shukla was standing at the busy Interstate Bus Terminal (ISBT, also and probably better known as Kashmere Gate) in Delhi, watching his myriad students catch their buses to go to their homes. At some point he shook his head, whether in sadness or something else, and was heard to say: "Tch, tch, what an exodus!"
At which a passing conductor stopped and said to him: "Sirjee, yeh ek sau dus nahin hai, do sau bees hai!"
Story's also told about an old friend of mine -- who may be reading this, if so hi -- who was telling this story in the States, to several Americans. And this is more or less what he said:
"So Shukla was standing at this busy bus station, watching his students leave for home. Then he shook his head and said, 'tch, tch, what an exodus!'
"Upon hearing which, a passing conductor stopped and said, 'Sir, this is not a one-ten, this is a two-twenty!'"
July 22, 2010
Rhodes to perdition
What's one to make of a cancer genomics researcher called Anil Potti?
He claimed research results that other scientists have not been able to reproduce, that seem to have suffered from relatively basic statistical mistakes. These results were actually used to treat patients. This, say critics, "may be putting patients at risk."
He claimed to be a Rhodes Scholar at a nonexistent institute in Queensland, Australia, mentored there by a scientist who never mentored him and was "shocked, saddened and flabbergasted" to find out that Potti claimed it. Rhodes scholarships are only for study at Oxford University in the UK. (I think even I knew that). This claim to a prestigious international award bolstered his applications for faculty positions and grants.
When asked about the Rhodes scholarship, he said he was nominated for the award. As far as I know, he has not explained Australia.
He claimed that in 1998 he was given an award by a professional society. The society says they gave it to him only in 2005.
He claimed to have been a "National Merit Scholar" in 1989, the year he claims to have started a MBBS programme at Christian Medical College in Vellore. Elsewhere, he claimed he was a National Merit Scholar in 1995, the year he graduated from CMC.
There's more. This man has spent several years at Duke University, bringing "millions of public and private dollars" in research money to that institution. It raises questions about just how institutions and grant awarders verify applications they receive. Not very well, it would appear.
(Lots of sources for all this, but the most comprehensive report is probably at the Cancer Letter, here -- PDF, 668K)
He claimed research results that other scientists have not been able to reproduce, that seem to have suffered from relatively basic statistical mistakes. These results were actually used to treat patients. This, say critics, "may be putting patients at risk."
He claimed to be a Rhodes Scholar at a nonexistent institute in Queensland, Australia, mentored there by a scientist who never mentored him and was "shocked, saddened and flabbergasted" to find out that Potti claimed it. Rhodes scholarships are only for study at Oxford University in the UK. (I think even I knew that). This claim to a prestigious international award bolstered his applications for faculty positions and grants.
When asked about the Rhodes scholarship, he said he was nominated for the award. As far as I know, he has not explained Australia.
He claimed that in 1998 he was given an award by a professional society. The society says they gave it to him only in 2005.
He claimed to have been a "National Merit Scholar" in 1989, the year he claims to have started a MBBS programme at Christian Medical College in Vellore. Elsewhere, he claimed he was a National Merit Scholar in 1995, the year he graduated from CMC.
There's more. This man has spent several years at Duke University, bringing "millions of public and private dollars" in research money to that institution. It raises questions about just how institutions and grant awarders verify applications they receive. Not very well, it would appear.
(Lots of sources for all this, but the most comprehensive report is probably at the Cancer Letter, here -- PDF, 668K)
One day in a row of seats
At an airport a few days ago, waiting for a flight, I looked along the row of seats I was in. Occupying most of the row, from right to left, were:
* a mother, grey jacket and green tee, wearing earphones and peering at her phone.
* her husband, red jacket and yellow tee, wearing earphones and tapping at his phone.
* Their son, playing with a handheld game, its case black.
* His sister, playing with a handheld game, its case red.
* A man, light blue shirt, peering at his phone and stabbing at it periodically with a grey stylus.
* A man, green tee, pressing the buttons on his phone.
* A man working on a laptop and wearing headphones that feed into the laptop, wearing running shorts and gleaming black leather dress shoes.
* A man, beige tee and tennis shoes, scribbling all of the above into a little orange pad. Me.
* a mother, grey jacket and green tee, wearing earphones and peering at her phone.
* her husband, red jacket and yellow tee, wearing earphones and tapping at his phone.
* Their son, playing with a handheld game, its case black.
* His sister, playing with a handheld game, its case red.
* A man, light blue shirt, peering at his phone and stabbing at it periodically with a grey stylus.
* A man, green tee, pressing the buttons on his phone.
* A man working on a laptop and wearing headphones that feed into the laptop, wearing running shorts and gleaming black leather dress shoes.
* A man, beige tee and tennis shoes, scribbling all of the above into a little orange pad. Me.
July 21, 2010
Stock markets, rum and bikinis
I may be making a comeback to rediff.com, trying to write in a slightly different vein from my past endeavours there over several years.
My first effort in this slightly different vein is here: Stock markets? Nah! How about rum instead?
Yep: as usual, your comments solicited.
My first effort in this slightly different vein is here: Stock markets? Nah! How about rum instead?
Yep: as usual, your comments solicited.
Find our own Shiloh
Last week, I was in Bangalore to speak at TEDxGardenCity. It was an interesting day, listening to some thought-provoking lectures and meeting stimulating people. Add a short chat about things tennis with Rohan Bopanna, and what else could a tennis nut like me ask for? (This: later in the week I played some doubles, dragging my respective partners to set losses of 6-0 and 6-4).
Anyway, below is the text of my talk. Some of this may be familiar to all two of you who have read my Roadrunner, it's adapted from a section in there.
Comments welcome.
***
Here's a picture to hold in your mind for a few minutes. I'm up in the hills somewhere in Jammu and Kashmir. There are flowers and birds all around me. It's a beautiful July day, the sun is out but is isn't too warm. In front of me, mounted on elegant stands, are several panels of black granite.
Keep that image, as I said, in your mind.
Three years ago, I visited the Shiloh Military Park in Tennessee in the USA. This is a peaceful, pretty spot on the banks of the Tennessee River, so peaceful and quiet that I found it hard to imagine what had once happened here. Had I been in the same spot a century-and-a-half earlier, one day in April 1862, all around me would have been guns firing and smoke, blood and death.
The idea, in 2007 when I visit, seems almost mad.
There was a battle fought here during the American Civil War, when the states of the South tried to secede from the Union and form what they called the "Confederacy". Thousands of young men fought here, the Southern Armies came close to defeating the Northern or Union Army but were finally defeated, and 24000 men were lost on both sides. It was an important and venerated battle, but only because of the bloodshed. Nothing of any strategic importance was won or lost. All it was, was the bloodiest battle in American history, but only until later battles in the same Civil War.
And the Shiloh Park remembers those fallen men.
There's a monument to the men who came from the state of Iowa to fight on the Union side. It has an elegant lady writing words to commemorate the "loyalty, patriotism and bravery of Iowa's sons who fought to perpetuate the sacred Union of the United States."
Scattered across these fields are several more monuments like this, one for each sate that sent men here. Tennessee, Ohio, Pennsylvania -- every state that fought in this battle, whether for the North or the South.
So here's where I begin to feel just slightly uneasy. In this Park, in this memorial, are monuments from States on *both* sides of this war, North and South. In one memorial Park, remembrances of patriotism of both sides.
The South lost the war, and so there's a melancholy monument representing a "Defeated Victory", the phrase itself a puzzle. It carries these words: "The States of the South sent to Shiloh 79 organizations of infantry and 10 organizations of cavalry. How bravely and how well they fought, let the tablets on this field tell. Let us remember those whose sacrifices hallow this field. Let us stand for patriotism, principle and conviction as they did even unto death."
Who do these words refer to? The South? Well, there are tablets on this field that tell how bravely the Northerners fought too (example: Iowa). They remember patriotism and sacrifice too. And if Iowa's men fought to "perpetuate the sacred Union", why, these men of the South were fighting to secede, to destroy that sacred Union: the very antithesis of patriotism. Yet if the Southerners stood for patriotism, the North must have stamped on it. So I've heard about patriotism.
What's a visitor like me to think? What does this do for my ideas of patriotism?
But then I walked up to the Missouri monument. Listed on it are the Missouri regiments that fought on the Union side. Listed below those are the Missouri regiments that fought on the Confederate side. The same monument. In fact, there's even a "1st Missouri" regiment that fought for the Union, and another "1st Missouri" regiment that fought for the Confederate side.
What happened here? Was Missouri hedging its bets? Being equivocal in its loyalties? Did one 1st Missouri fight the other 1st Missouri?
I mean, here's one monument, one stone face with words on it, that celebrates the patriotism of both sides, of mutual enemies, in this war.
Again, what's a visitor like me to think? What does this do for my ideas of patriotism?
It eventually made sense to me this way: this memorial to these two sides in a brutal fratricidal war may have been the only way a country could rebuild and move on. That could not have happened if the North had refused to pay attention to the emotions of the defeated South. There had to be a rethinking of the idea of the *United* States, to treat vanquished and victor alike.
And yet, wars are for demonizing the enemy, and that must have happened in this war as it does in wars closer to our homes. During the Kargil war in 1999, an AM Sethna wrote this in an article in the Times of India: "We are dealing with a country capable of extreme cruelty. In such hands officers and men may be skinned alive or horribly mutilated before being killed."
I have no doubt Pakistani writers were equally effusive and eloquent about India and Indians. It's what happens during wars. It's as if patriotism demands such rhetoric.
And yet there's Shiloh.
Still, the US reunited and reconstructed after the Civil War, while India and Pakistan remained partitioned after 1947. That's a big difference, right?
Yet you know, there's this similarity: we have war memorials too.
Some years ago, I travelled a long way to see one, somewhere near the Line of Control in J&K. It's called the "Hall of Fame", and there are plenty of monuments there too.
One tower is called "Padinale Po Munnale" (Tamil for "Go Forward, Fourteenth"). It remembers S Shabiyullah and K Balaiah. Another remembers Surjit Singh, Gurprit Singh and Badridan Bharat. I'm telling you their names because I believe all of us should know of these countrymen of ours, from all over India, who die in J&K. There are plenty of these monuments at the Hall of Fame, remembering soldiers killed in our wars of 1999, 1965, 1971 and more.
And there are flowers and birds and -- remember what I asked you to keep in mind? -- several large black granite panels. Each has a year chiselled at the top. Below it, rows of neatly carved names -- the soldiers from this area who were killed in that year. Panels like that for every year till the year before I visited, each with a few dozen names.
And there are several more panels. Empty panels, with no names chiselled on them. Empty panels, waiting to be filled. Waiting for death.
I ask you to think about the implications of that.
As I stood there comprehending it myself, my soldier escort said to me in Tamil: "My name's not there." I could find nothing to say.
We must have been only a few km from the border with Pakistan. I wondered, is there a Hall of Fame on that side, with similar monuments, similar granite panels, similar blank granite panels? It's possible, but being Indian, think of how hard it would be to get there to find out for myself.
But Shiloh made me wonder about something I had never before even imagined. What if there was a joint India-Pakistan memorial here where India remembers Shabiyullah and Surjit and the 14th? What would it mean to our countries that have fought and killed for so long?
Especially in our early wars, it's certain that many soldiers on both sides came from the same roots, likely the same villages. What would it do to us to build a memorial that reminds us that in these parts, neighbour has fought neighbour, maybe even brother has fought brother?
What would it do, to find our own Shiloh?
Anyway, below is the text of my talk. Some of this may be familiar to all two of you who have read my Roadrunner, it's adapted from a section in there.
Comments welcome.
Here's a picture to hold in your mind for a few minutes. I'm up in the hills somewhere in Jammu and Kashmir. There are flowers and birds all around me. It's a beautiful July day, the sun is out but is isn't too warm. In front of me, mounted on elegant stands, are several panels of black granite.
Keep that image, as I said, in your mind.
Three years ago, I visited the Shiloh Military Park in Tennessee in the USA. This is a peaceful, pretty spot on the banks of the Tennessee River, so peaceful and quiet that I found it hard to imagine what had once happened here. Had I been in the same spot a century-and-a-half earlier, one day in April 1862, all around me would have been guns firing and smoke, blood and death.
The idea, in 2007 when I visit, seems almost mad.
There was a battle fought here during the American Civil War, when the states of the South tried to secede from the Union and form what they called the "Confederacy". Thousands of young men fought here, the Southern Armies came close to defeating the Northern or Union Army but were finally defeated, and 24000 men were lost on both sides. It was an important and venerated battle, but only because of the bloodshed. Nothing of any strategic importance was won or lost. All it was, was the bloodiest battle in American history, but only until later battles in the same Civil War.
And the Shiloh Park remembers those fallen men.
There's a monument to the men who came from the state of Iowa to fight on the Union side. It has an elegant lady writing words to commemorate the "loyalty, patriotism and bravery of Iowa's sons who fought to perpetuate the sacred Union of the United States."
Scattered across these fields are several more monuments like this, one for each sate that sent men here. Tennessee, Ohio, Pennsylvania -- every state that fought in this battle, whether for the North or the South.
So here's where I begin to feel just slightly uneasy. In this Park, in this memorial, are monuments from States on *both* sides of this war, North and South. In one memorial Park, remembrances of patriotism of both sides.
The South lost the war, and so there's a melancholy monument representing a "Defeated Victory", the phrase itself a puzzle. It carries these words: "The States of the South sent to Shiloh 79 organizations of infantry and 10 organizations of cavalry. How bravely and how well they fought, let the tablets on this field tell. Let us remember those whose sacrifices hallow this field. Let us stand for patriotism, principle and conviction as they did even unto death."
Who do these words refer to? The South? Well, there are tablets on this field that tell how bravely the Northerners fought too (example: Iowa). They remember patriotism and sacrifice too. And if Iowa's men fought to "perpetuate the sacred Union", why, these men of the South were fighting to secede, to destroy that sacred Union: the very antithesis of patriotism. Yet if the Southerners stood for patriotism, the North must have stamped on it. So I've heard about patriotism.
What's a visitor like me to think? What does this do for my ideas of patriotism?
But then I walked up to the Missouri monument. Listed on it are the Missouri regiments that fought on the Union side. Listed below those are the Missouri regiments that fought on the Confederate side. The same monument. In fact, there's even a "1st Missouri" regiment that fought for the Union, and another "1st Missouri" regiment that fought for the Confederate side.
What happened here? Was Missouri hedging its bets? Being equivocal in its loyalties? Did one 1st Missouri fight the other 1st Missouri?
I mean, here's one monument, one stone face with words on it, that celebrates the patriotism of both sides, of mutual enemies, in this war.
Again, what's a visitor like me to think? What does this do for my ideas of patriotism?
It eventually made sense to me this way: this memorial to these two sides in a brutal fratricidal war may have been the only way a country could rebuild and move on. That could not have happened if the North had refused to pay attention to the emotions of the defeated South. There had to be a rethinking of the idea of the *United* States, to treat vanquished and victor alike.
And yet, wars are for demonizing the enemy, and that must have happened in this war as it does in wars closer to our homes. During the Kargil war in 1999, an AM Sethna wrote this in an article in the Times of India: "We are dealing with a country capable of extreme cruelty. In such hands officers and men may be skinned alive or horribly mutilated before being killed."
I have no doubt Pakistani writers were equally effusive and eloquent about India and Indians. It's what happens during wars. It's as if patriotism demands such rhetoric.
And yet there's Shiloh.
Still, the US reunited and reconstructed after the Civil War, while India and Pakistan remained partitioned after 1947. That's a big difference, right?
Yet you know, there's this similarity: we have war memorials too.
Some years ago, I travelled a long way to see one, somewhere near the Line of Control in J&K. It's called the "Hall of Fame", and there are plenty of monuments there too.
One tower is called "Padinale Po Munnale" (Tamil for "Go Forward, Fourteenth"). It remembers S Shabiyullah and K Balaiah. Another remembers Surjit Singh, Gurprit Singh and Badridan Bharat. I'm telling you their names because I believe all of us should know of these countrymen of ours, from all over India, who die in J&K. There are plenty of these monuments at the Hall of Fame, remembering soldiers killed in our wars of 1999, 1965, 1971 and more.
And there are flowers and birds and -- remember what I asked you to keep in mind? -- several large black granite panels. Each has a year chiselled at the top. Below it, rows of neatly carved names -- the soldiers from this area who were killed in that year. Panels like that for every year till the year before I visited, each with a few dozen names.
And there are several more panels. Empty panels, with no names chiselled on them. Empty panels, waiting to be filled. Waiting for death.
I ask you to think about the implications of that.
As I stood there comprehending it myself, my soldier escort said to me in Tamil: "My name's not there." I could find nothing to say.
We must have been only a few km from the border with Pakistan. I wondered, is there a Hall of Fame on that side, with similar monuments, similar granite panels, similar blank granite panels? It's possible, but being Indian, think of how hard it would be to get there to find out for myself.
But Shiloh made me wonder about something I had never before even imagined. What if there was a joint India-Pakistan memorial here where India remembers Shabiyullah and Surjit and the 14th? What would it mean to our countries that have fought and killed for so long?
Especially in our early wars, it's certain that many soldiers on both sides came from the same roots, likely the same villages. What would it do to us to build a memorial that reminds us that in these parts, neighbour has fought neighbour, maybe even brother has fought brother?
What would it do, to find our own Shiloh?
July 17, 2010
Flotsam and jetsam
Just sent this letter to Crest, the weekend Times of India newsmagazine. It's self-explanatory.
***
Dear Crest,
Believe me, like every writer out there, I am delighted when I find that other writers have found my work good enough to use in their own writing.
Only, it would be nice if they acknowledge what they use.
I refer to Kartikeya Tripathi's To match a THIEF in your current issue of CREST. I actually was heartened by the article.
But Tripathi starts with a reference to George MacMunn and his book The Underworld of India, and includes quotes from him. Tripathi calls the book a "treatise", he mentions MacMunn's trysts with "ladies of flimsy virtue", he says the book "dismissed Pardhis, Ramoshis, Vanjaris and Chantichors ('bundle stealers') as 'absolutely the scum, the flotsam and jetsam of Indian life, of no more regard than the beasts of the field'". Later, Tripathi mentions that the British concluded that "just as there were hereditary carpenters and weavers, there must also be hereditary criminals."
All of this -- the use of "treatise", the "bundle stealers" in parentheses, the "flotsam and jetsam" quote, the mention of carpenters and weavers and "hereditary criminals, the mention of MacMunn and his book, all -- looked familiar indeed. That's because it is taken from chapter 1 of my 2001 Penguin book, Branded by Law.
The same material was also in an article I did ("Declared Criminal at Birth") in Manushi, issue 123 of March-April 2001 (see Manushi's archives here. See the article itself, with the bits that Tripathi used, here.)
As I said, I am delighted that Tripathi found my material worth using in his work. It would have been nice of him to acknowledge that he found it in my work, exactly as I acknowledge MacMunn himself.
I would be grateful if you would print a note to this effect in the next issue of Crest.
All good wishes.
Dear Crest,
Believe me, like every writer out there, I am delighted when I find that other writers have found my work good enough to use in their own writing.
Only, it would be nice if they acknowledge what they use.
I refer to Kartikeya Tripathi's To match a THIEF in your current issue of CREST. I actually was heartened by the article.
But Tripathi starts with a reference to George MacMunn and his book The Underworld of India, and includes quotes from him. Tripathi calls the book a "treatise", he mentions MacMunn's trysts with "ladies of flimsy virtue", he says the book "dismissed Pardhis, Ramoshis, Vanjaris and Chantichors ('bundle stealers') as 'absolutely the scum, the flotsam and jetsam of Indian life, of no more regard than the beasts of the field'". Later, Tripathi mentions that the British concluded that "just as there were hereditary carpenters and weavers, there must also be hereditary criminals."
All of this -- the use of "treatise", the "bundle stealers" in parentheses, the "flotsam and jetsam" quote, the mention of carpenters and weavers and "hereditary criminals, the mention of MacMunn and his book, all -- looked familiar indeed. That's because it is taken from chapter 1 of my 2001 Penguin book, Branded by Law.
The same material was also in an article I did ("Declared Criminal at Birth") in Manushi, issue 123 of March-April 2001 (see Manushi's archives here. See the article itself, with the bits that Tripathi used, here.)
As I said, I am delighted that Tripathi found my material worth using in his work. It would have been nice of him to acknowledge that he found it in my work, exactly as I acknowledge MacMunn himself.
I would be grateful if you would print a note to this effect in the next issue of Crest.
All good wishes.
Perceptions, hurt and anger
Another round of India-Pakistan talks, another road that apparently has led nowhere. Me, I'm a believer in the mantra that the road itself is the point. If the alternative is hostility and killing, better to talk, even if the talks only lead to more talks that, it seems to us on the outside, lead to yet more talks that, I'm getting somewhere I think, apparently lead nowhere.
I'm not being facetious. Any talking must take into account the concerns of both sides, or it leads nowhere. I can't tell if that happened or didn't, at this most recent meeting of foreign ministers on both sides. (Probably it didn't, or it might have led somewhere).
Part of the reason for not being able to tell is how the event gets reported.
Today's Times of India has a front page report whose headline reads: "Qureshi Kills Peace Talks".
The Economic Times says: "Failure of talks exposes Pak’s evil designs".
The Hindustan Times accuses Pakistan of "ambush diplomacy": "Pakistan's 'all or nothing' timeline trap broke talks".
Then I looked at some other papers.
The Daily Times says "India remained stuck in modalities".
Dawn says "Deadlock blamed on selective Indian approach".
Kashmir Watch says "India has been using delaying tactics".
As always, what happened is a function of who tells you what happened. Also as always, what you choose to believe about what happened is likely a function of which country you live in. Few of us seem able to consider: by their nature, these failures cannot be the fault only of one or the other side. Possibly lost in all that is a non-partisan account of what happened, that will give us a better understanding of it all.
Overall, an object lesson in how perceptions differ.
Also in the use of words like "kill", "evil", "delaying" and "selective".
***
A less one-sided account is in the Wall Street Journal: "Tempers Flare in India-Pakistan Talks".
***
As an aside, the same Times of India report I mention above refers to "India's hurt and anger at the fact that 26/11 masterminds are ... roaming free in Pakistan ... There can't be any closure on 26/11 until there is justice."
I fully agree.
But all over again, I cannot help wondering: is there "hurt and anger" in India that the masterminds of Delhi 1984, Gujarat 2002, Bombay 1992-93 and more are roaming free in India? (I know plenty of people who are hurt and angry over that). Can there be closure on any of those episodes without justice?
Why won't we deliver justice in those massacres of Indians, if we want it for the 26/11 massacre of Indians? And if we won't or can't deliver justice for those, why do we expect it of Pakistan for 26/11?
I'm not being facetious. Any talking must take into account the concerns of both sides, or it leads nowhere. I can't tell if that happened or didn't, at this most recent meeting of foreign ministers on both sides. (Probably it didn't, or it might have led somewhere).
Part of the reason for not being able to tell is how the event gets reported.
Today's Times of India has a front page report whose headline reads: "Qureshi Kills Peace Talks".
The Economic Times says: "Failure of talks exposes Pak’s evil designs".
The Hindustan Times accuses Pakistan of "ambush diplomacy": "Pakistan's 'all or nothing' timeline trap broke talks".
Then I looked at some other papers.
The Daily Times says "India remained stuck in modalities".
Dawn says "Deadlock blamed on selective Indian approach".
Kashmir Watch says "India has been using delaying tactics".
As always, what happened is a function of who tells you what happened. Also as always, what you choose to believe about what happened is likely a function of which country you live in. Few of us seem able to consider: by their nature, these failures cannot be the fault only of one or the other side. Possibly lost in all that is a non-partisan account of what happened, that will give us a better understanding of it all.
Overall, an object lesson in how perceptions differ.
Also in the use of words like "kill", "evil", "delaying" and "selective".
A less one-sided account is in the Wall Street Journal: "Tempers Flare in India-Pakistan Talks".
As an aside, the same Times of India report I mention above refers to "India's hurt and anger at the fact that 26/11 masterminds are ... roaming free in Pakistan ... There can't be any closure on 26/11 until there is justice."
I fully agree.
But all over again, I cannot help wondering: is there "hurt and anger" in India that the masterminds of Delhi 1984, Gujarat 2002, Bombay 1992-93 and more are roaming free in India? (I know plenty of people who are hurt and angry over that). Can there be closure on any of those episodes without justice?
Why won't we deliver justice in those massacres of Indians, if we want it for the 26/11 massacre of Indians? And if we won't or can't deliver justice for those, why do we expect it of Pakistan for 26/11?
July 16, 2010
The grunts start
"The first time I heard the ape grunt -- the barking sound that supporters make when a black player gets the ball -- it was so foreign I couldn't figure out what it was ... A black player touched the ball and the grunt started: uggh, uggh, uggh, uggh, uggh.
...
The grunt was coming not from a few lads, but, it seemed, from everyone on the terraces -- old, young, fathers, whole families. Everywhere we looked we saw the ugly faces of men grunting, sticking out their lower jaws in their crude imitations of apes ... until finally the black player passed the ball on and the grunting stopped.
And then another black player got the ball and the grunt resumed."
Question 1: Who wrote these lines and where?
Question 2: Is there much of a difference between this description and this picture (and the news) from nearly three years ago?
...
The grunt was coming not from a few lads, but, it seemed, from everyone on the terraces -- old, young, fathers, whole families. Everywhere we looked we saw the ugly faces of men grunting, sticking out their lower jaws in their crude imitations of apes ... until finally the black player passed the ball on and the grunting stopped.
And then another black player got the ball and the grunt resumed."
Question 1: Who wrote these lines and where?
Question 2: Is there much of a difference between this description and this picture (and the news) from nearly three years ago?
July 09, 2010
Conversations, #15 (and last)
Yet again, I forgot to post the latest instalment of the email conversation Beena Sarwar and I have had over the last few months. This one is #15, and it is our last (for now): The dialogue goes on.
I'm not sure how to tell how many people read our exchange, but judging from some of the reactions I've had here alone, it has been a worthwhile exercise. I urge those of you who have offered your thoughtful comments to attempt your own conversations with someone in Pakistan.
Your thoughts welcome, as always.
Earlier instalments: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14.
I'm not sure how to tell how many people read our exchange, but judging from some of the reactions I've had here alone, it has been a worthwhile exercise. I urge those of you who have offered your thoughtful comments to attempt your own conversations with someone in Pakistan.
Your thoughts welcome, as always.
Earlier instalments: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14.
TedxGardenCity
TedxGardenCity will happen in Bangalore on Monday July 12. I'm speaking, as are a raft of other (more?) fascinating people, including the tennis star Rohan Bopanna. (I'll gladly make the trip to Wagah to see him play if that comes off, so I'm looking forward to seeing him in Bangalore in three days).
Registration costs Rs 500, see details on the site. If you feel like coming (and if they are still taking registrations), be there! Or, as ever, be elsewhere.
Registration costs Rs 500, see details on the site. If you feel like coming (and if they are still taking registrations), be there! Or, as ever, be elsewhere.
July 07, 2010
Two photographs, and a third
When I saw the picture, I made a mental note to go dig up the earlier one. I should have done it right away -- as often happens, I got distracted and never got around to it.
So I was glad to find, some days ago, that Rahul S had the same purpose in mind and did the digging. Take a look at his Spot the difference.
After you take a look, consider this detail that's mentioned in Rahul's comments: the young man in the first photograph here, described in that report as a "suspected Maoist", is a "mute and mentally challenged youth".
So I was glad to find, some days ago, that Rahul S had the same purpose in mind and did the digging. Take a look at his Spot the difference.
After you take a look, consider this detail that's mentioned in Rahul's comments: the young man in the first photograph here, described in that report as a "suspected Maoist", is a "mute and mentally challenged youth".
July 06, 2010
Axed hand
What I understand about this news: people took offence. Because there are always people willing to take offence.
What I do not understand about the news:
* Why the college management "apologised".
* Why the Kerala government saw fit to issue "instruction" that the professor should be suspended.
* Why the college followed the government's instruction and suspended him.
* Why the police lodged a case against the professor.
Clearly "freedom of expression", especially its value in an educational institution, is a foreign phrase to all these people.
What I hope I will read in the news soon: that the sick creeps who cut off the professor's hand (with an axe!) are punished severely.
Because the message has to go out: feel offended if you like, who can stop that? But if your felt offence causes you to attack others, you will be swiftly punished. Regardless of your religion or particular offence.
What I instead worry will happen in this case: Nothing at all, for fear of treading on various toes. That others who feel offended by other things will thus know they can also lash out without fear of punishment.
What encourages me in this news: This line, if it is really true -- "The attack has caused widespread shock and outrage across Kerala."
What I do not understand about the news:
* Why the college management "apologised".
* Why the Kerala government saw fit to issue "instruction" that the professor should be suspended.
* Why the college followed the government's instruction and suspended him.
* Why the police lodged a case against the professor.
Clearly "freedom of expression", especially its value in an educational institution, is a foreign phrase to all these people.
What I hope I will read in the news soon: that the sick creeps who cut off the professor's hand (with an axe!) are punished severely.
Because the message has to go out: feel offended if you like, who can stop that? But if your felt offence causes you to attack others, you will be swiftly punished. Regardless of your religion or particular offence.
What I instead worry will happen in this case: Nothing at all, for fear of treading on various toes. That others who feel offended by other things will thus know they can also lash out without fear of punishment.
What encourages me in this news: This line, if it is really true -- "The attack has caused widespread shock and outrage across Kerala."
July 05, 2010
Stupid and cruel
This should have gone up here this morning, but anyway.
Not working and earning, and enforcing that, only brings economic activity to a halt. That strikes me as a stupid (not forgetting cruel) way to protest inflation. Therefore I intend to work hard today. I urge you to do so too.
Not working and earning, and enforcing that, only brings economic activity to a halt. That strikes me as a stupid (not forgetting cruel) way to protest inflation. Therefore I intend to work hard today. I urge you to do so too.
July 04, 2010
Where there's smoke
77 year-old lady I know, lives by herself in a fourth-floor flat. She has been unwell for a couple of days with an upset stomach and fever. This morning, she wakes to find smoke billowing through her flat. Coughing and panicked, she searches the flat to see what could be burning. Nothing. So what could be the cause?
A mother from the flat immediately above rings her bell and asks, "Is something burning in your flat? Because there's smoke coming into our flat on the fifth floor."
They look out of one of the windows and it seems the smoke is coming from the flat immediately below. People on the street below are stopping and pointing at the smoke.
The fourth-floor lady walks down and rings the bell. Young woman of the house opens the door and is barely visible, because the whole flat is hazy with smoke. "What's happening," asks the lady from the fourth floor, "what's causing the smoke? Is something burning?"
Comes the answer: "Puja".
In the third-floor flat, they are performing a puja, complete with a seriously smoky fire. A fire.
"The smoke is coming through my flat upstairs," says the fourth-floor lady, "and it's causing me a lot of trouble, especially because I'm ill."
"Just close your windows," says the young woman.
"But you can't disturb your neighbours like this," says the fourth-floor lady.
"What to do," says the woman, "we are performing a puja." That's explanation enough, it seems.
In the meantime, someone in the building opposite has noticed the smoke and has called the fire brigade. The fire truck arrives, the men investigate. They do nothing. Apart, that is, from stopping to berate the person who called.
"It's just a puja!" they say. "You should have checked first, before calling us!"
Yes, today I've learned that when a citizen sees smoke billowing from what looks like a fire, s/he must check that it is not a puja before calling the fire brigade.
And listening to this account, I have this thought: what good is it propitiating gods via a puja, when you're unthinking about the distress you cause your neighbours? Which god would be pleased with that?
A mother from the flat immediately above rings her bell and asks, "Is something burning in your flat? Because there's smoke coming into our flat on the fifth floor."
They look out of one of the windows and it seems the smoke is coming from the flat immediately below. People on the street below are stopping and pointing at the smoke.
The fourth-floor lady walks down and rings the bell. Young woman of the house opens the door and is barely visible, because the whole flat is hazy with smoke. "What's happening," asks the lady from the fourth floor, "what's causing the smoke? Is something burning?"
Comes the answer: "Puja".
In the third-floor flat, they are performing a puja, complete with a seriously smoky fire. A fire.
"The smoke is coming through my flat upstairs," says the fourth-floor lady, "and it's causing me a lot of trouble, especially because I'm ill."
"Just close your windows," says the young woman.
"But you can't disturb your neighbours like this," says the fourth-floor lady.
"What to do," says the woman, "we are performing a puja." That's explanation enough, it seems.
In the meantime, someone in the building opposite has noticed the smoke and has called the fire brigade. The fire truck arrives, the men investigate. They do nothing. Apart, that is, from stopping to berate the person who called.
"It's just a puja!" they say. "You should have checked first, before calling us!"
Yes, today I've learned that when a citizen sees smoke billowing from what looks like a fire, s/he must check that it is not a puja before calling the fire brigade.
And listening to this account, I have this thought: what good is it propitiating gods via a puja, when you're unthinking about the distress you cause your neighbours? Which god would be pleased with that?
Barely left the 15th
The Atlantic carries a fascinating and encouraging story about one man's plan to bring news to tribal areas of India (Bringing News to India's Poorest People). His tool? Naturally, the cellphone: "The internet, cable television and newspapers reach only a fraction of the 80 million [tribal population] but about half the population now has access to mobile phones."
(Note that "half" is also about the fraction of India's population as a whole that has access to mobile phones).
It's an experiment that I hope will succeed. But here are a couple of observations in the article that might give you something to think about:
* "A principal cause of the [Maoist] unrest is that the tribal people remain largely outside the mainstream of India's rapidly developing media."
* "Among [such tribals] who can only speak a regional dialect and who are unable to participate in the country's broader political debates, the local Maoist influence is particularly strong."
* "The ubiquitous cell phone could bring news with incalculable benefit to people who … have barely left the fifteenth century in so many other ways."
The point: Whether we like it or not, Maoists have a lot of support across the middle of the country. And there are reasons for that support.
(Note that "half" is also about the fraction of India's population as a whole that has access to mobile phones).
It's an experiment that I hope will succeed. But here are a couple of observations in the article that might give you something to think about:
* "A principal cause of the [Maoist] unrest is that the tribal people remain largely outside the mainstream of India's rapidly developing media."
* "Among [such tribals] who can only speak a regional dialect and who are unable to participate in the country's broader political debates, the local Maoist influence is particularly strong."
* "The ubiquitous cell phone could bring news with incalculable benefit to people who … have barely left the fifteenth century in so many other ways."
The point: Whether we like it or not, Maoists have a lot of support across the middle of the country. And there are reasons for that support.
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