When ignorance is other than bliss

A few days back at the Andheri Sports Club, as I sat outside the squash court changing shoes, I happened to overhear a conversation that this girl in the next chair was having with someone on the phone. She was explaining that she hadn’t known about the sms ban, and had been repeatedly trying to send a sms and failing, until someone informed her that she could send all of 5 messages in the course of a day. It’s because of Assam, she said. She didn’t know exactly what, but something had happened in Assam, she explained, because of which the government had imposed the ban.

The next day I attended the book launch of Sudeep Chakravorty’s ‘Highway 39’. In the question answer session that followed after the introduction and reading, someone asked Sudeep a question about the Khasi tribes, and the Naga situation. Sudeep and other panelists were quick to shake their heads, and he began his response with the correction that Khasis belonged to Meghalaya, not Nagaland. Never make this mistake with someone from the Khasi tribe, or for that matter from Nagaland, he said.

There is nothing new or novel about either incident. If at all it points to how similar the two people were- both were from middle class Mumbai, one was apparently very ignorant, to not have heard of Assam in spite of it being constantly in the news, and the other was apparently not just well informed, but well read enough to know about the book launch and interested enough to land up for it, and yet didn’t know a very basic fact about the NE- different levels perhaps, but ignorance just the same.

I have often heard this refrain- that we know next to nothing about the NE, that we don’t take enough interest, that we distance them by this attitude of 'us and them'- and all of it is true. Sudeep started his introduction by saying that the seven sisters comprising the NE and its people are so dissimilar, that it’s almost unfair to club them together under the umbrella of the ‘North East’. (According to him they should be called the Far East to begin with, they are not really the North; though I have a feeling that the term probably got coined as a result of the North- South divide, which is very strong in India. The seven sisters are in the North *relative* to the South.) At this argument I found myself thinking, but the South is made of different peoples with different cultures, but we do club them together and say South India. Heck, India itself is such a mix of people, but we all live under the umbrella of being Indian, don’t we. While I see the point he tried to make, it held only so much significance for me.

Coming back to the general level of ignorance about the NE, thing is, from all I can tell, people seem to be ignorant in general, and not just about the NE as a special case scenario. Yes, they know less about it than about other things, and to that extent there is a certain kind of isolation. But they probably also know less about any number of other things that they should know more about- even stuff that concerns them directly- such as the amount of pesticide in their food for instance, or how many local train accidents happen daily in Mumbai. I’m not trying to make a case for ignorance. I’m saying ignorance is non discriminatory. People are too caught up in their own lives and troubles, or maybe it is that they can process only so much information, and their own surroundings fill up that capacity, but also, we have all been deliberately and considerably dumbed down by our schooling system on the one hand and the media on the other, and a culture of curiosity and of questioning has not been allowed to develop. This indifference then extends towards everyone- towards the farmers in Vidarbha, towards Kashmiris, towards tribals fighting for their lands, towards rural populations fighting for their right to traditional livelihoods- the list is a long one, and yes it includes the NE. And wherever the situation is complicated, such as is in the NE, it becomes even easier to ignore- it just takes way too much effort to engage!

Seen in this light, the reaction of the girl on the phone and the man in the audience questioning Sudeep, are completely understandable, are they not? Maybe not entirely acceptable, but at least understandable? Can we really demand that people (presumably more privileged by virtue of being from the mainland) know about the problems of communities in the NE, when they are struggling with enough of their own? Conversely, do we apply the same standards to them? At the risk of inviting much wrath, could I question the NE-ers- their stand on the Koodankulam anti nuclear movement, or Kasab’s sentence, or just about any other issue from the 'mainland'. This is not to take away from their struggles and grievances in the least. All that I am saying is that it is unrealistic, and an impossible dream to expect everyone to be both informed and hold an opinion about everything (this statement even sounds ridiculous, but hopefully the point I’m trying to make comes through.) In any case, for a number of reasons- the very diverse and complicated histories of the many communities of the Indian state being the foremost- it is unrealistic to imagine that the common man, from the NE or mainlander, from the North or the South, the Kashmiri or the 'Indian', can possibly be aware of issues that seem of burning nature to communities that suffer them. We can hope that there are enough in each case- aware and willing to question and demand justice- to form a critical mass, so that issues don’t get overlooked. And that responsibility does lie more with those who are privileged to have had say an education, or are otherwise empowered, maybe by their wisdom, traditional or otherwise. It does lie more with those who are in positions of power, or in positions of being able to drive change.

Perhaps just about the only thing we can hope we can be, perhaps the only thing to be done, is to be tolerant. To view the world through the filters of love and compassion, and perhaps much of the dividing lines will dissolve away. And the question of us being different from them won’t lead to a display of power, to control and persecution, leading in turn to retaliation as a consequence. And that perhaps, is the only thing we can and should teach our children as well- to see the beauty in diversity, and to respect and accept differences. If we could succeed in doing that, then we would raise a generation that would view everyone- whether they be from another state or another country- with kindness and compassion. And then being ignorant would not be such a serious malady.

Baromas

'Have you seen Harud? Its the best film on Kashmir yet, absolutely brilliant. Has convinced me, if there was any doubt, that fiction is the way to go.'

A couple of years ago a friend of mine who had made a documentary on the women of Kashmir, sent me this message. I mostly agree, though I also feel that we live in a fool's paradise when we imagine that the films we choose to be associated with make any difference at all. And yet, we go on believing.

Here’s another film then, very different in style from Harud, and yet equally relevant. I hope it does for farmers what Harud could or could not do for Kashmir.

Baromas

(from its facebook description)

Baromas is a feature film in Hindi based on the Sahitya Academy award winning Marathi Novel. The movie is produced by Sajith and Priyanka. The director is Dhiraj Meshram.

A day in May

Scorching sun, oppressive heat; no sign of the slightest wind, not a leaf stirring.

Househunting blues.

An owner trying to impress on me that the rent is justified, after all it is a ‘good society’, a reference to a building being gated, relatively well maintained and with inhabitants who are typically a little better off. A hierarchy even in buildings. ‘A good society’ does not mean good people, it just means people with more money, I think to myself but don’t say it. When will the Mumbai housing Gods smile down on me?

Sweaty, hot and depressed, I come back home and stare out of the window at the limping palm leaves that I am going to miss very much.

Call from Faiza. There have been demolitions in Ambujwadi and Sion Koliwada.

My househunting blues are now coloured with a tinge of guilt.

Ruminations

There was a time, when I was in school and the Ramayana and Mahabharat formed part of course material. Thus it was that I knew even the complex Mahabharat with its many characters fairly well and could predict which episode would come next in the tackily produced Mahabharat that was aired on Doordarshan then. I took great pride in it too. It never occurred to me as unusual that a religious text was part of school course material. Many years later, and for many years now I have felt miserable about my dismal knowledge of other texts and cultures that form part of my country. I am quick to proclaim myself a secularist, but I’m never sure I even understand what that truly means. I now have friends from different faiths, and several of them have cross married. I’m always delighted when I see them celebrating each others’ festivals and explaining to the children their respective significance. So it is that Tanvi is as excited about making rangolis on Diwali as she is about picking out the perfect Christmas tree. And so it is that I almost faced a language barrier when I first met Sanaa, for I started to chat with her in Hindi while she blabbered away in Bengali and Malyalam with equal ease.

I’m equally distressed when I see youngsters so enamoured by foreign cultures, their concept of Diwali is more about playing cards and bursting noisy crackers than about the victory of good over evil. And of course I’m distressed by my own lack of understanding about my religion which is being misrepresented by the fundamentalist Hindu right on the one hand and simplistic and distorted depictions in films and television on the other.

Culture-al Woes

Sometime back I happened to be at a memorial concert for a lady I didn’t know and had never met. She must have been a good soul though for there was a hall full of people who had come to attend, and they were in for a treat of beautiful Sufi verses of Kabir, Rumi and others sung so soulfully that I was nearly moved to tears.

As I sat listening I wondered about the people on stage- those people with a talent that takes years of practice to hone and master. I wondered how old they were, how much time they would already have spent and how much more they would continue to spend on understanding music better so their performances could get even more soulful.

And I wondered how much money they made.

I am aware of how pessimistic I sound, but I do despair at this state of affairs where art and culture gets such a raw deal. How many more bankers and MBAs and software engineers will we churn out before we realise what a monochromatic society we’re creating? All the emphasis in our education system, in society even, is on securing the future by working towards a well paying job. ‘Competition’, ‘professional’, ‘job oriented’ are the keywords in a universe that is far removed both from culture or uncomfortable realities of any kind. The only ‘culture’ that a vast majority of our young population has access to is the one they see depicted on television in regressive serials- and that couldn’t be more distorted!

This is particularly sad because we have an incredibly rich culture- thousands of languages and dialects, songs, dances, literature and folk tales, architecture, sculpture, art, story telling and puppetry traditions, and more that can’t be categorised but contributes to making this subcontinent beautiful and diverse. How much of it do we really see around us anymore? Much of it has been reduced to being practiced by select families, and the younger generations even in those are not really interested in carrying on. They would much rather be ‘educated’ and find jobs that offer instant money than devote their entire lives to a craft that few are willing to patronise. A few years back, I shot for an organization called Kala Raksha based in Bhuj. It was left to an American woman who fell in love with Indian textiles, to study and write a book and subsequently start an NGO and set up a museum and a school to preserve dying local textile crafts of the area. She had little money to make the film, but we went ahead and shot anyway because she wanted to capture some of their genius on camera before the masters passed away, old as they all were.

Much of our adivasi traditions are endangered by the ‘civilised’ world’s attempts to take them into their fold. Instead of creating tolerant diverse societies, where individual cultures can flourish, the attempt seems to be to homogenise. Always has been, I suppose. What else are all the drives to convert people to specific religions? What are the attempts at ‘educating’ the masses in a Western style?

I’m not sure I know how we can stem this decline. State patronage comes to mind. I wish we lived in a world where people who have the money also had the conscience to do the right things. Then perhaps corporations (some of which are now so powerful, their turnovers are more than those of many countries) would also encourage art. But I’m old and cynical. I don’t believe anymore that corporations that run on the primary motive of profit, would ever do anything without some returns in mind. And if state support is the only answer, then given the state of our governments and their policies, I’m guessing its not too bright a future for many many artistic traditions.

:(

More questions- reverting back to an earlier post

A couple of days back while on our way home, looking out of the auto rickshaw Malu and I noticed a young boy swinging on a pole, using his T-shirt. He had put the front of his T-shirt over the pole, and was leaning backwards, using his foot as fulcrum and his weight to swing. In front of him, a young girl was sweeping the pavement with broad strokes of a piece of cloth. For a second it seemed odd, until we noticed the tarpaulin sheet behind her, covering up their belongings. There was a water-bottle and a glass perched on the boundary wall adjoining the pavement. This then was home, and she was readying the ‘bed’.

As we observed this scene, an unlikely memory came rushing back. Some time back I had posted about the incident of this teenage girl who was picked up by the police for flinging her employer’s baby from their fourth floor balcony. What disturbed me about this story and the way it was reported was the amount of emphasis there was on the intentions of the ungrateful girl in flinging the baby away because she ‘was irritated by its crying’ contrasted with the kindness of the family that had taken her in. (She is a migrant from Bihar who was living on the street until recently.) The moment I read the news report, my first thought was about the girl- ie why was she brought to the house? Was it really out of ‘good intentions’ or for the cheap domestic help she could be? But most importantly, was she in any way molested- physically or sexually? These are all valid questions, if you ask me. But the Good Boy (yes, he makes an appearance again! That story unfortunately is unfinished- the short of it is that we became good friends and more, and spent a lot of time together for awhile. The long of it shall appear by and by) disapproved- both of the writing and the thoughts it encompassed. He felt that the writing was not lucid enough- it simply wasn’t clear what I meant by ‘not asking the right questions’. Though I’m not sure that’s necessarily true for he did get the drift. He further disapproved of my suspicion. He asked me why it wasn’t possible that the man genuinely meant well, and how I could think so ill of him, without any proof.This strikes me as very odd. There was enough evidence in the story I thought, skewed as the perspective was, to question the family’s intentions. It was a clear case of employing child labour. I suppose we are so used to the reality of our children having to work to feed themselves that we no longer find it out of the ordinary. And there may not have been evidence of any molestation, but that girl could not have been more vulnerable, and therefore it was an angle that definitely needed to be looked into and as far as I could tell from the story, it wasn’t. There isn’t even an iota of doubt in my mind about this. If there wasn’t any molestation or ill treatment, well wonderful! But there’s ground to check and make sure that there wasn’t.

And to his question, ‘So you’d rather that she stayed on the street?’- My response would be, ‘We’re still asking the wrong question!’

I understand where he is coming from. It becomes a matter of choices really. Is the security of a house better than the pavement, even if it means the loss of freedom? Better clothes, food to eat better than begging on the street? Made to work at home as opposed to being molested on the street? Since those are the only choices we seem to be able to offer to so many children, I suppose an act of the kind that the family did, is only welcome, while we pray fervently that she stays safe and well. Which is his (hopeful) stance.

I am more realistic, or maybe more cynical- I’d rather have the matter investigated. And I'd like to believe I’m also more demanding. I’d rather that we did not accept these as the only choices. That we fought for the future of our children. And that we were not content with such a solution for ‘taking them off the street’.

Random rainy morning conversation

The day began with a conversation with my two maids, both of who happened to land up at more or less the same time today. They’re friends and neighbours often looking out for each other- in fact I found one through the other. The conversation initiator was the rain. It has been raining incessantly for the last few days. Its like the monsoon decided to make a comeback with a vengeance. Not that I’m complaining. This city needs all the water it can get and more. As do the farmers tending to their fields, I suppose. Anyway, there was a fresh bout of furious rain in the morning right about the time that they turned up. Anita, the cook looked out of the window and commented on it. On how hard and relentlessly its been raining, and how the building compound, especially at the back, is waterlogged. I nodded absent-mindedly. My window opens out to the back of building compound, and the view is thankfully mostly green (and beautiful), and if you look down from the balcony or the window, you can see the empty brown patch that some residents use for parking. I’ve been noting the build up of the water in this small brown patch. It often turns into a tiny pond, as it did this morning, until the earth soaks up the water.

But I digress. All the romance of the rain went straight of the window when I heard what she said next. She mentioned how the water had come into their house and upto the ankles, wetting everything. Couldn’t sleep the whole night, she said, because everything is wet, you know, even the mattress, all the while smiling ear to ear. It never fails to amaze me. It’s not the first time that I’ve heard something like this of course, but it just seems so incredible that people can live like that and talk about it so nonchalantly, even happily. She spoke of the water seeping in from the ground. (All this ‘reclaimed’ land in Mumbai! I live on it, and I’m not blind to its repercussions. The city is bursting at the seams, and anyone with half a mind can see it. But the builder-politician nexus will not allow any corrective measures. So land will continue to get reclaimed, buildings will continue to come up, slums too for the people in the high rises need their maids and their guards and their delivery boys and their drivers.)

Then she spoke of the water coming in from above, and went on to explain that her husband, being stocky, can’t climb up properly and put the plastic sheet on the roof. Besides the day they had to buy the plastic sheet, he was at work and she was entrusted with the task of buying it, and she got the wrong size, correct length wise, but short breadth wise; so now they’re stuck with a roof that only provides part protection and the water keeps coming in. Animatedly they exchanged notes about their husbands, how Vibha’s knows how to build a house, and has build enough of a good rapport at work so that whenever he needs it, labour is easy to find. Like last year when the roof of her house came crashing down. Fortunately Anita was around then though Vibha was at work, and she took in Vibha’s kids and called to inform her (yes, they have cellphones!). Vibha was shocked, how could my house just fall like that? But her enterprising husband came with a bunch of men from work, and they put it up again within an hour. My house is also bigger, Vibha said proudly, and drier because it’s at a higher level, so the water takes much longer to seep through. And it has four layers of thick plastic as roofing, so the water doesn’t come in. They went on to speak of some unruly relatives, and how friends are so much more precious in times of need, and of demolition drives, when everyone comes to everyone’s rescue though some neighbours do take advantage and steal. Mostly it is the Corporation workers though. They take away all good stuff, the utensils, the gas cylinder even the bamboo poles used to make houses. All this accompanied with much smiling and giggling.

It had something of a humbling effect, this ‘girly’ conversation with my maids. It reminded me of how petty I can sometimes be in my concerns. It reminded me of the resilience of people, especially the poor in this country and I suppose in the world, and their ability to smile and be happy in situations that seem so hopeless to me. I wondered about my own ‘armchair intellectualism’, and its usefulness, if any. I wondered about the order of things- how it’s always been and will always continue to be (so why despair over it?)

And having gone through the motion of pondering over such questions, no wiser in the end than at the start, I sat down and wrote this post.

Meanwhile, it continues to rain.

Feeling (mis)informed

So a few days back I came across this TED talk
A case against people’s apathy and blaming instead, ‘obstacles and barriers’ that are placed in our way of meaningfully engaging with our surroundings, even on issues that directly affect us. Nothing new in that, though I have to say the talk was for me interesting and informative anyway.
What I’d like to add to this list is designed and deliberate information overload. We’re living in times of an information revolution. Information is being generated and transmitted at an unprecedented pace, and is more readily and cheaply available than ever before. Especially over the Internet, which has been the vehicle of this revolution.
Here’s a video that brings some perspective to the numbers.
The most telling statistics for me (quoted from the video) are ‘It is estimated that a week’s worth of the New York Times contains more information than a person was likely to come across in a lifetime in the 18th century.’ and ‘It is estimated that 4 exabytes (4x10^19) of unique information will be generated this year. That is more than the previous 5000 years.’

The problem is that there often is too much of it, and as we well know, too much of a good thing may not necessarily be good. Even if one wants to follow an issue, the amount of information that one is bombarded with is, I suspect, designed to dissuade all except the most persistent followers. That ails much of my effort at staying informed anyway. Two recent cases in point are the debates around nuclear energy and the Jan Lokpal Bill.
For this post, I’m going to limit myself to Nuclear energy.

I’m really rather fed up of the number of conflicting articles in the media around the nuclear energy debate. And I, with my limited knowledge and interest, have probably only some across the tip of the iceberg.
Ever since the tragic tsunami struck in Japan, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant crisis has been constantly in the news. Even in the early days, when the government of Japan and TEPCO claimed the amount of radiation was below levels considered dangerous, the alternative media was full of articles advising Japanese in the vicinity of the plant to move immediately. Reports on the harmful effects of radiation from the Chernobyl disaster were quoted and claims about internal and external radiation and what constitutes ‘dangerous’ were made. There were repercussions across the world, in that nations, including India, began to re evaluate the safety measures in their existing nuclear plants, while Germany closed them down altogether. And the debate around nuclear as a viable source of energy was revived. Mostly good developments these, had there been some kind of clarity.
The proponents of nuclear energy likely have deep pockets. It would be easy to believe, and much of the alternative media claims, that they manipulate data, and put out false information to support their case. Nothing new in this either; misinformation campaigns have long been a handy tool of people in power, or with something to hide.
But when someone like George Monbiot joins the debate, and in the favour of Nuclear, I really begin to wonder. His arguments are compelling, even if the figures he quotes seem less than plausible. What is even more baffling is that he quotes the same reports to build a case for Nuclear. How IS that possible, I ask. All these learned people, experts in their fields (though Monbiot does not claim to be an expert on Nuclear, and quotes sources,) if they can’t reach a consensus, in spite of their pro people credentials, how are the rest of us supposed to make ‘informed’ decisions.

Here are just a few from the ping pong match (can’t find some others):
‘How the Fukushima disaster taught me to stop worrying and embrace nuclear power’: In which Monbiot takes a pro nuclear stance

‘Why don’t we judge other forms of energy generation by the standards we apply to nuclear power?’: In which he defends his pro nuclear stance

‘The UN Would Never Lie to George Monbiot’: an attack on Monbiot's pro Nuclear stance

‘How Nuclear Apologists Mislead The World Over Radiation’: Helen Caldicott’s attack on Monbiot

‘We have to be sure our facts about nuclear power are right, as the latest exchange with Helen Caldicott shows’: Monbiot responds

This then seems to be the strategy. Put out so much information, that it becomes practically impossible for anyone to be able to make sense of it all without losing his or her job (where’s the time for a real job with all that reading to do) and mind in the process. The other half of this strategy is to constantly keep people engaged in the business of making a living and to simultaneously keep them hungry for a better life by bombarding them with images of bigger cars, bigger houses, bigger bathtubs, expensive shoes, holidays abroad… the list is endless, or engaged in mindless entertainment (both the gaming and porn industries are big business, and TV and films are only producing formula trash.)
This country is even easier. Most of the population can barely afford two square meals a day. They can hardly be expected to know or care for global warming or the crisis in Egypt, or hell, even stuff closer to home, farmer suicides in Vidarbha or State oppression of tribals in Chhatisgarh. Forget about complex issues like Kashmir! The middle class has been suitably engaged in dreams of a better future, fueled by advertising. If that doesn’t engage them enough, the intense cutthroat competition at the workplace will. And when they come home from all that toil, bombard them with mindless entertainment. Saas bahu serials with more images of impeccably dressed and made up women and docile men, complete this fantasy picture.
The surrender of the middle class is complete.
As for the rich, they’re too busy making their millions, and spending them on flashy cars, designer wear and penthouse apartments, that the aforementioned middle class is dreaming of.
It seems almost a miracle then that we still have a few who do manage to take out time and engage with the world and its crises at all.
And for them, there’s information overload.

That brings me to the Indian context of the Nuclear debate. Most notably the Jaitapur plant. I have read literature circulated by anti Nuclear activists protesting against the plant. Of course I have no way (or maybe not the time or inclination) to actually research their sources and substantiate their claims. However I am inclined to support them. In a country like ours, where everything including morals is for sale, and human life is cheap, it is not hard to believe that dubious technologies are being pushed for kickbacks. Even more likely that corners will be cut in the actual construction and provision of safety/ emergency measures. Even if Nuclear energy had been proven to be completely safe, I would say we would need to be on our guard. In the current scenario, supporting this plant would be nothing short of madness. And if those reasons weren’t compelling enough, there’s the question of secrecy. For a more detailed view, read this.

Another thing that took me by surprise was the Greenpeace India response. They were always opposed to Jaitapur plant of course, but after the tsunami, they changed their stand to being opposed to it because Jaitapur lies in a seismically active zone. Much of the media discourse had of course already shifted to the dangers due to natural calamities and preventive safety measures.
Huh? So does that mean this plant, with the same capacity and employing the same French technology, would be ok if relocated somewhere else? That’s not what I would deduce from the claims made by the anti Nuclear activists. This development made me wonder if the movement was really a larger anti Nuclear one, or was it just concerned with the crisis at hand.

It also made me wonder whether we are ever really ‘informed’ or just humoured into thinking we are.

What is our country coming to?

No seriously, what’s going on???
Large parts of central India are affected by what our Prime Minister has described as Number One Security Threat. While the alternative media cries itself hoarse over the one sided view of Naxalism being painted by the government and the popular media, the tribals, and indeed the common man in Naxalite affected districts, continues to suffer at the hands of both the insurgents and the government troops.

Read the following for some insights… and there are probably thousands more out there…
Arundhati Roy’s article in Outlook
Priyanka Borpujari’s blog (a freelance journalist)
Javed Iqbal’s blog (a photojournalist with the New Indian Express)
I love this take on the rise of the Maoist movement by The Great Indian Clearance Sale

The North East continues to be marginalized.
And now Kashmir is on the boil again. Its been ravaged in the last couple of months by protests against the killings of innocent youths by India’s Security forces, leading to more action by the security forces, and more killings! And now the clampdown on the media… Is this a democracy we are living in?

Following are a few links, some of the many articles floating around…
Rekha Chaudhary’s emotional piece on Rising Kashmir
Muzamil Jaleel article on stone throwing as a form of protest
A moving piece by a young Kashmiri journalist

In the meanwhile people in our megacities seem oblivious to the plight of the majority of the country- a middle class with ever rising aspirations, blinded by the consumerism, with unsustainable lifestyles, consuming ever more natural resources at a rate faster than Nature can replenish, sending their cities to the dogs by building more… more houses, more malls, more flyovers… more, more, more even in the face of crumbling infrastructure. What is this ostrich mentality? Its so stupid it’s nearly unbelievable…
Is there hope at all for us as a nation?

Help, I'm lost!

I was reading this rather interesting article a couple of days back about sign design (http://www.slate.com/id/2245644/) and its importance, and it struck me how often I have complained about the lack of proper signage in this country. It doesn’t seem awfully complicated to get signage right… if at all, it is probably very logical. Why then are we so poor at it.
The best-marked roads that I have seen here are undoubtedly in Delhi. At some point a few years back, the government woke up to the need for these, and we have clearly marked big blue overhead boards announcing where the roads are headed. Even so, every once in awhile one finds a major turn unmarked, leading to much inconvenience, such as happened with us a couple of months back when we were headed to Sonepat in Haryana. For the longest time my parents were talking about this turn they needed to take towards Sonepat. But in the absence of any proper signs, they had to rely on memory to figure it out. Sure enough we missed it, and overshot by several kilometers before they realized their mistake. And this is an experience of someone who has lived in Delhi for decades now, and has in general a very good sense of direction. God help directionally challenged people like me.
I’m reminded also of my recent trip to Japan, a country where the train network is extensive and excellent, and therefore the preferred mode of travel, and where almost no one speaks English. So did we have problems traveling in Japan… not at all! Apart from the fact that the people are extremely helpful, and do all that can to be of assistance in spite of the language barrier, their maps and signs are excellent guides. Tokyo for instance has the most intricate network, of railways and subways. But all the stations have assistance booths with the exact same map with colour coded routes. One may make a mistake like choose the more crowded train, or the longer route, but it’s almost impossible to pick a wrong route… everything is so clearly marked. Then again, in the stations, the platforms and lines are clearly marked. And make no mistake, I am talking about big underground stations here, and long corridors leading from one line to the next… so much so it seems like another city underneath! The assistance counters too are logically placed. The point is there is a standard logic that has been followed in the design. Once your mind gets used to that logic, it automatically looks for signs in the right places. This would be crucial I imagine for the kind of traffic that the Tokyo rail network handles everyday.

(This brings back such nice memories :) Of lots of pouring over maps, friendly Japanese wanting to help out, and walking endlessly in large underground stations. We were staying in Ikebukuro and used both the Subway and train lines extensively in the three days we were there.)

I’ve never really had that much of a problem traveling by Indian railway either, but then I have grown up in this country. I do wonder how foreigner friendly our signages are. Certainly our road signs can do with some improvement, especially in b-tier cities, towns and villages, heck sometimes even in the metros, as we realized that day on our way to Sonepat.

On the Women's Reservation Bill

Why is it that in our country reserving seats, for SCs, STs, OBCs, other minorities, and now women is seen as something of a ‘solution.’ Is it really a solution or an easy way out of a problem we no longer know how to address because it is too steeped in history, and complicated?
I am all for women’s empowerment, and if reserving seats can indeed lead towards that goal, then sure enough it’s the way to go. But where is the evidence to support this claim? For years now we’ve been relaxing entry requirements and reserving seats in colleges, and even in government jobs. Has there been a study to show much exactly this has helped?
My argument in this case is not very different from what it was regarding reservations in schools and colleges. The challenge is to create opportunities so that people from disadvantaged sections of society can rise up and compete with the rest on a level playing field. Spoon feeding jobs and seats in educational institutions, or now elected bodies, to undeserving candidates cannot and should not be the solution.
Women’s empowerment will be a reality when the men in our society learn to respect every woman, not just the elected representatives they must. It calls for a change in mindsets, a socio cultural revolution that can hardly be brought about overnight. But we do need to identify steps that we can take right away that might eventually lead to this miracle, even if it takes decades to fructify.
Is reservation then one such step? I’m not sure. We have seen enough puppet women leaders, being used as affronts for their husbands and fathers who are really the ones in charge. This is a dangerous phenomenon, though a natural extension of the gender hierarchy prevalent in society.
On the other hand, thanks to the reservation for women in local government bodies, many women have been elected to office in the last decade or so. Even if a small percentage of these women have subsequently realised their potential and assumed power the way they were meant to, the move could then be called something of a success. It should then be replicated yes, in other government bodies, but more importantly the success stories told and spread so other women can follow in their footsteps. And it is this that needs to be studied and offered as evidence that reservation actually works.
It is not a small job that we offer these women, we are talking about running the country here… a job that has admittedly lost much charm because of the dubious credentials of the many men who hold public office. Nevertheless, its importance cannot be undermined. And so it should necessarily require a certain amount of competence to be elected to a governing body, being a woman should hardly rank as eligibility criteria.

People like Us

While reading the paper today, I came across several times, and in different articles, the same word: vulnerable. Whether it was somebody driving their daughter to school, or hanging around with friends in a pub, or having fun at garba celebrations, the people in this country have a new fear: that of terror.
Its somewhat new, atleast to people in cities likely Delhi and Mumbai, though some pockets of the country have been familiar with it for awhile… and has only recently reached a stage where the common man, ‘people like us’ have begun to feel unsafe in their very homes. Actually it is probably this attitude which has led to this situation. There’s no denying the fact that out country is multicultural, with cultures sometimes so different that it becomes difficult to completely identify with each other’s problems. And that probably is why in the fast growing, economically well off cities, where it was possible to turn dreams to reality, even the common man chose to ignore and deny the problems of his fellow brother. Everytime there was a massacre in Kashmir, or a killing in Bihar, or a rape in UP, or burning of a Christian missionary in Orissa, or a sati in Rajasthan, or a naked protest march in the North east, or an earthquake in Bhuj, or tribal lands taken away, or riots in Godhra, or the depletion of the ground water table in Kerala because of a multinational soft drink company’s irresponsible manufacturing practices, or farmer suicides in Vidarbha, or the floods in Bihar… the list goes on… we treat it like it’s someone else’s problem. We convince ourselves that we are helpless to do anything anyway, and don’t even so much as raise our voices even when we see a tragedy, or injustice being done in front of our own eyes. We further push the marginalized to the very edges of society, while we are busy with the important business of earning our livelihood, or getting a new haircut or buying car, or discussing the even more important implications of Saif Ali Khan’s tattoo, or Prakash Karat’s opposition of the Nuclear deal with the US, neither of which we can claim to understand. We have informed opinions about how Mamata Banerjee is a hindrance to development, without fully understanding the implications of the land takeover on the farmers who she represents, about Narendra Modi’s criminal ways, without understanding what makes him such a popular leader in Gujarat, about the insurgents in the North east, without understanding why they choose to call their organization a ‘Liberation’ front.
We have been playing living room politics with these people and with their very lives for far too long. It was only a matter of time before they got frustrated at being ignored and sidelined and decided to walk into our very living rooms so that they may finally be heard.

Lead India: bad billboards, great TVC

I had written earlier about TOI's Lead India campaign, criticising them for the hoardings they had put up all over Mumbai. In hindsight I don't blame them, in this country right now, everything from cars to paints and chocolates to sanitary pads are being sold by cricketers or Bollywood stars, or occasionally, both. So why not an initiative such as Lead India. On the plus side, their TVC is a delight to watch. Here's the link.

The power of numbers

I heard a new word last week, and subsequently read it in the paper. I’m sure it’s been around now for a while, since the phenomenon it describes certainly has, it’s just that it seems to have missed my eye till now.
It is ‘mobocracy’.
In India in recent times, it is a word well worth coining.
Here are some facts: Sometime ago a mob had attacked an art student’s exhibition in Baroda, alleging that his paintings were provocative and offensive to the Hindu religion. In Bihar over the last week, twelve people were lynched in two separate incidents, on suspicion of robbery. In Nawada district, a mob gouged out the eyes of three youths for stealing a motorcycle. In Bhagalpur, a chainsnatcher was beaten up, tied to a motorcycle and dragged through the streets. In Mandya in South India, eleven Dalits were injured when a mob of over 150 people from “upper caste” attacked a Dalit colony. In Firozabad, a Dalit woman, whose son was accused of eloping with a girl of another caste, was burnt to death while her family members were held hostage. All except the Baroda incident occurred in the last one month.
Whatever the provocation, religious, social or caste based, and whether spontaneous or preplanned, mobocracy is a phenomenon fast on the rise.
I am reminded of a thought that had occurred to me sometime ago. The occasion was janamashtami, better known as dahi handi in Maharashtra, named after the extremely popular game that is played in every locality in the city, and that attracts bigger sponsorships and consequently bigger amounts of prize money with every passing year. All over people were on the streets that day, dressed in their very best, laughing, chatting, dancing to music blaring from loudspeakers.
Needless to say travelling by road that day was a nightmare. And that’s what made me think, looking at all those people on the streets, so carefree, and occupying the roads with such authority, that that’s what it was about. Here’s the common man, who slogs day in and day out to earn his daily bread, and goes about his daily life resigned to fate, with little hope of a better future. He toils because he must. And he hopes that the future will be bigger and brighter for him and his close ones, that he can make it so by working harder and harder still, but realizes too that that is but a dream, atleast for the majority of the people. The overriding feeling for most of his life is one of helplessness. Certainly I have felt it a lot of times, when I have found myself unable to help, either myself or people around me.
And then there are days like janamashtami. When he can dance on the streets and he is king of the road. When he feels a certain power. What is this power? The power to obstruct normal life, even for people way more influential than himself, who he bows down to every other day of the year?
And where does he derive this power? I suppose in numbers. So is that it then? It’s the power of numbers that gives people the confidence to do things they otherwise wouldn’t. And that’s what mob psychology is about. It could be one man’s vendetta, or the frustration of many, coming to the fore every time a mob gets out of hand. But whatever the source of the unrest, numbers render people nameless and faceless, and give them the power to commit acts that they wouldn’t dare otherwise for fear of social or legal repercussions.
That’s mobocracy. The evil face of the power of numbers.

'Jashn-e-azadi'- celebrating freedom and all that...

A few days ago, Tapan and I braved the notoriously heavy Mumbai rains to travel all the way from Borivli to Prabhadevi for the film ‘Jashn-e-azadi’, a film on Kashmir made by Sanjay Kak, and being screened by Vikalp. We reached to find policemen at the door of the building. Curious and suspicious, we made our way up to the second floor, to the venue. More policemen… and grave looking duo of Anand Patwardhan and Sunil Shanbag, deep in conversation with the men in khaki.

Apparently, the police had received an anonymous call complaining that the film contains material that is inflammatory, and its screening may lead to a law and order problem. And they were therefore there to stop the screening. The organizers were not convinced. They asked for a written order. The police didn’t have any. They asked for some time to procure one. The organizers agreed to wait till 7.30. The audience, comprised mostly of professionals, both film makers and film lovers from various walks of life, who rely on screenings such as this to keep in touch with documentary films as well as low budget and short films all of which are otherwise difficult to access, waited patiently while Sanjay and Anand held fort, trying to keep the audience both informed of the goings on with the police and entertained. There was on that occasion, a different and unusual group as well in the audience, a group of plainclothesmen, who were politely asked to leave by the host, the man incharge of the Bhupesh Gupta auditorium. It was strange, surreal almost to see several men get up from the last row and leave after it was established that they were not regular viewers and unknown to anyone in the crowd.
The police returned finally with a search and seize warrant. They didn’t have to search, Sanjay readily handed to them the only copy that he had of the film on a dvd, which they promptly seized and sealed. Their mission was accomplished, as was the anonymous caller’s. The screening was stopped, the audience had to go back disappointed and wondering how little it took to disrupt even a private event in this city. And how easy to denounce an independent voice that dares to impinge upon a subject that may only be spoken of by people ‘authorised’ to do so, such as the government and the media. It doesn’t matter of course, as Sanjay pointed out, that the media sends out its young 20 and 30 something beat journalists, who sometimes have all of a few hours, or more rarely, a few days to do all their research and a few minutes to communicate it in. That apparently is acceptable. But a well researched and thought out chronicle of the goings on in a region, shot and edited over several years, and presented in a film of over two hours, by a filmmaker of repute, is questionable and its screening to a set of professionals, a threat to law and order.
Such, unfortunately, is the freedom of expression in our country.

Our new Ms President

A rather belated post... written oiginally on 22 July 2007.

Pratibha Patil became the first woman president of the country today. She won by a convincing margin, no surprise in this country where politics can make heroes even of criminals, and her offences have been less grave.
When she was first nominated, the Opposition started a campaign against her, the basis of which was an investigation into her past, and every murky deal that she had been a part of that surfaced as a result was splashed across the front pages of newspapers for weeks afterwards. Not that it made much of a difference. The Congress may have been embarrassed, but could hardly withdraw her from the race, that would be tantamount to giving in. They knew the numbers were in their favour, and so I suppose they decided to stick by their decision. The Opposition on the other hand, continued its campaign, staying in the news, and keeping the issue alive.
I don’t know nor claim to understand politics. Its difficult as it is to form an opinion about anything these days, what with most of the media given to dramatization and sensationalisation, not to mention being also sold out to the highest bidder. In such a scenario, I found myself unable to react meaningfully to reports of Pratibha Patil’s various offences, from the co operative bank irregularities to the abetment to suicide, none of which seemed to be her offences anyway, but those of people close to her.
But what I found absolutely impossible to digest were the news reports of her having had a conversation with a Swami long dead through the ‘medium’ of one of his devotees, a woman living in his ashram. Its incredible, and an indication of the state of our politics that she should still have been elected to the high office of the President. And the fact that she succeeds a man as scientifically inclined as Dr Abul Kalam Azad, cannot be more ironical.
I am a woman and I guess I should be happy at least about the fact that women are finally getting their place under the sun. But as it happens, I’m not. I don’t need any proof nor reassurance that there are women around who are competent and confident, and deserving of all the success that a man with the same capabilities might command. And it does pain me to see that often enough these same women are denied opportunities and in many cases, discriminated against, in much more violent and disgraceful ways. However does that mean that one has to subscribe to the success of every woman who ‘makes it’, irrespective of her credentials. I say absolutely not. It would in fact be a disservice.
That however, was the card played repeatedly by the Congress. I am no fan of the Congress party, but I do not for a moment deny their rich tradition of very charismatic and very powerful women leaders over the years. It is sad then that the Congress of all political parties, should have been the one responsible for imposing upon the country, this dubious honour.