"the schadenfreude"

Renewable energy is no longer ‘alternative energy’

2012-01-13T00:40:00.004+05:30

Growth is energy hungry, and the aspirations of growing at 9-10% will place huge demands on the energy resources of the country. In this energy jigsaw, renewable energy will feature like never before in the 12th Plan and after

As the country embarks on planning for the 12th Plan (2012-17) period, a key question mark that hangs over the process is on the energy requirements.

By the rule of the thumb, India will require about 100 gigawatts (Gw)—100,000 megawatts—of capacity addition in the next five years. Encouraging trends on energy efficiency and sustained efforts by some parts of the government—the Bureau of Energy Efficiency in particular needs to be complimented for this—have led to substantially lesser energy intensity of economic growth. However, even the tempered demand numbers are unlikely to be below 80Gw. As against this need the coal supply from domestic sources is unlikely to support more than 25 Gw equivalent capacity. Imported coal can add some more, but at a much higher cost. Gas-based electricity generation is unlikely to contribute anything substantial in view of the unprecedented gas supply challenges. Nuclear will be marginal in the foreseeable future. Between imported coal, gas, large hydro and nuclear, no more than 15–20Gw equivalent can be expected to be added in the five-year time block.

As against this, capacity addition in the renewable energy based power generation has touched about 3Gw a year. In the coming five years, the overall capacity addition in the electricity grid through renewable energy is likely to range between 20Gw and 25Gw. Additionally, over and above the grid-based capacity, off-grid electricity applications are reaching remote places and touching lives where grid-based electricity supply has miserably failed. Newer applications in lighting, heating and household applications are now reaching a point of “unconditional competitiveness”. All of this is at a substantially lower carbon footprint. Renewable is thus no longer “alternative energy”, it is pretty much as mainstream as it gets.

The bottlenecks to renewable energy development are more practical. The nature of “infirm” electricity from renewable sources is somewhat different from conventional coal, gas or nuclear power. Large-scale ingress of such infirm electricity in the grid causes grid management problems. A utility control room becomes a much more complex and busier place as the proportion of renewable electricity increases. There is a natural reluctance on part of utilities to take in renewable electricity beyond a point.

Key to solving this conundrum is recognizing that renewable power is indeed infirm, but is predictable. Predictions made with reasonable accuracy on how much electricity will be generated at any time will lead to solutions being developed by pressing in quick response complementary sources of electricity to complement the renewable energy generation. Thus, pairing solar with gas, and wind with storage hydro can address the key issue of variability. This is more a management issue, and with the right policies and regulations on these aspects renewable electricity generation can receive a huge fillip.

That would still leave the issue of local grid management where large scale variations in generation can cause huge disturbances and lead to grid outages. This will need to be addressed through network strengthening and introduction of newer technologies such as Flexible AC Transmission Systems. Eventually, large scale renewable resources such as wind and solar would need to connect with the national grid and the power flows would become a part of the inter-state power flows.

Fortunately, in the area of renewable energy the country has been seeing quite a bit of progressive action led by the Central Electricity Regulatory Commission (Cerc). The regulator has acted extremely proactively to ensure that a Renewable Purchase Obligation is implemented at the state level. This has been backed by innovative commercial mechanisms such as tradable Renewable Energy Certificates that help states, which are deficient in renewable energy resources, fulfil their purchase obligations. Cerc has also made it mandatory to bring about “scheduling” of grid connected renewable energy from January 2012. This will bring about much desired predictability and reduce the impact of infirmity of the main renewable energy resources—wind and solar.

On its part the government of India has been working on filling some of the loopholes in the policy framework and the implementation wherewithal.

A credit enhancement mechanism for the solar projects under the first phase of the National Solar Mission has been put in place. The government has also approved the use of the proceeds of the coal cess accruing to the National Clean Energy Fund for investments in the transmission grid and improving reliability. A number of market innovations are also being proposed by the government to promote competition and bring down cost of renewable energy production and delivery.

All of these are positive pointers in the otherwise troubled energy scenario that the country is facing. However, it comes with an important caveat. Renewable energy resources are very local. For grid-based electricity production the resources are concentrated in a few states. Development is mired in land related issues, availability of permits, consents and clearances—all the typical issues that bog down infrastructure project development in India.

If the promise of renewable energy has to play out in practice, the government would need to demonstrate sustained leadership to overcome the issues, address state level parochial attitudes through the right mix of incentives, and remove bureaucratic sloth in the state machineries. Investor interest in renewable energy is high at this time, but can be very fickle. One has always suspected that the National Action Plan for Climate Change and its ambitious targets were born out of propaganda rather than belief. However, a combination of circumstances may just make achievement of some of the important targets possible to a significant degree. It is crucial that the country and its leadership do not let the opportunity pass.

3,000 years on, we can’t cast aside Manusmriti

2011-02-03T09:54:00.001+05:30

The murder and abortion of female foetuses is not a generic problem in India. It is concentrated in peasant castes, above all Haryana’s Jat and Gujarat’s Patel

We want to think of people as individuals, but the Indian conforms to his caste.Outsiders won’t notice that nurses in our hospitals are Christian girls from Kerala. Bollywood reveals their identity through use of the convent word “sister”. They are among the best nurses in the world, and the reason Europeans see India as an attractive place for cheap operations. Underpaid and cheerful, their caring comes to them through Christianity’s view of suffering.

Hindus have a horror of bodily pollution and it would be embarrassing to see a census of upper caste Hindus in nursing. There’s no question of Muslims letting their women work with undressed patients.

The murder and abortion of female foetuses is not a generic problem in India. It is concentrated in peasant castes, above all Haryana’s Jat and Gujarat’s Patel. Their average is one daughter killed for every three born. The peasant works with his hands and not his head, and so women are useless to him, presenting only an expense at puberty.

The Patel has butchered his daughters so efficiently that now other castes must supply brides. There is evidence he is marrying eastern Gujarat’s tribals, bringing them into Hindu culture. This is an instance of the Gujarati becoming inclusive through violence. The Patel is the sword-arm of Gujarat’s Hindutva movement (Pravin Togadia is Patel). Like all peasants, he is intellectually primitive and easily roused by symbols. He’s also familiar with violence because he handles cattle.

But unlike the Jat, the Patel does not do honour killings. Why not? Because Gujarat’s culture is dominated by the Baniya, both Jain and Hindu. Gujaratis say Vaniya ni mooch neechi (the Baniya turns his moustache downward). Baniya instinct means always picking benefit over honour. Since honour has no premium in Gujarati society, it is not reposed in the woman’s body.

If Europeans understood the Bengali contempt for Marwaris, would they still adore Satyajit Ray? Unlikely. The Marwari in Ray’s movies is represented by Maganlal Meghraj, a dreadful stereotype, like Shylock. The villain ofMahapurush, a superb film about a cheating holy man, isn’t the swamiji. Ray etches his rogue lovingly, giving him knowledge of Latin, and letting him escape with his loot. Ray’s wrath is reserved for swamiji’s vulgar followers, like the Marwari seth who is given three brief scenes, but is nailed in them. Why does the Bengali revile Marwaris?

Bengalis have no trading castes. The Marwari occupies that space profitably in Kolkata, and so is hated. The Bengali’s inability to build his state’s economy is explained away as the incompetence of Communists, but it is a problem of caste.

In PNB’s Krishi Card advertisement, shown daily on Krishi Darshan, thesahukar (Baniya) is a shifty man the peasant must avoid. But the state cannot underwrite 30 million farmers who lack collateral, and whom the Baniya services.

Communal violence disturbs us, but it is quite easy to understand. Because the Indian’s identity comes not from the individual but his community, we are comfortable with collective punishment. Muslims are punished for doing Godhra, and Sikhs are punished for killing Indira.

Gujaratis are irritated when scolded for their behaviour in 2002, because “Muslims started it”. The Indian riot is marked by two things: participation of civil society, and retreat of the state. Because his identity is also collective, India’s policeman and magistrate feels the anger of rioters. The state permits settling of scores by relaxing its monopoly over violence, breaking Weber’s rule. The British administrator was able to stop Indians going berserk because he didn’t feel the anger of community, and his interest was served by peace. Our leaders easily reveal their caste. Manmohan Singh is Khatri. The word is derived from Kshatriya, but the great Punjabi Khatri community of Guru Nanak is mercantile. This explains Manmohan’s sobriety. Manmohan’s favourite Montek Ahluwalia is also from the trading Kshatriyas. Gujarat’s Khatris are also mercantile. They are an egalitarian community where women drink with men, and these aren’t cocktail parties.

Chidambaram is Chettiar (trading communities are identifiable by their “st” names: Seth, Sheth, Shetty, Chettiar, and Muslim Sait). He is what all Indian leaders should be like. Lalu and Mulayam are peasant Yadavs, and that’s unsurprising. Muslims are separate by both caste and religion. Sunni is quite different from Shia. Shias await the return of their beloved Imam Mahdi, who is in occultation. Shias often have haunting names, like Muntazar (Iran’s Ayatollah Montazeri), which means “the awaited”, from the root intezar. Disinterested in the present world, Shias are quietist.

The great scholar Kalbe Sadiq of the Muslim personal law board, who says there’s no problem with Vande Mataram, is Shia. Shias are more willing to compromise with Hindus: The BJP’s Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi is Shia. So is Asif Zardari, and he is good for Pakistan, with his inclination to make peace with India. The Sunni intellectual, like the brilliant Arif Mohammed Khan, is also drawn to compromise, but Indians have no use for intellectuals. Sunnis should be attracted to trading since Prophet Muhammad was a trader. But India’s Sunni isn’t converted from trading castes, so he is tradesman instead: carpenter, butcher, weaver or mechanic.

Let us see how caste touches Muslims. Draw up a list of India’s Muslim businessmen, and you notice something strange: They are Sevener Shia, and Gujarati. Wockhardt’s Khorakiwala is Vohra, Wipro’s Premji is Khoja, Cipla’s Hamied is Kutchi and Zodiac’s Noorani is also Gujarati. Their community is less than 500,000 people, but India’s other 150 million Muslims can’t compete because they’re converted from non-mercantile castes.

The greatest trader in India is the Jain from the Gujarati village of Palanpur (population 100,000). He dominates the global diamond business, and is the only man with the talent to compete with that other superb trader, the Ashkenazi Jew. The diamond bourses of Tel Aviv and Antwerp are full of these two communities. Palanpur’s Jain is understated and the rare flamboyant specimen is unpopular in the community, like film-maker Bharat Shah.

Lakshmi Mittal’s son Aditya interned at Credit Suisse First Boston. In his early 20s, Aditya was a star, working on mergers and astonishing his bosses with his fluid understanding of balance sheets. This comes to him from his Baniya training, superior to business school.

India has the world’s fifth largest foreign exchange reserves. Unlike China, Russia, Japan and Taiwan, however, our reserve hasn’t been built on trade surplus but on capital inflows. These are vulnerable and must be protected. From being 18.6% of inflows, foreign portfolio investment collapsed after Pokhran and turned negative (-0.8%). Growth was affected for over a year and investment left India because of the BJP’s act. Why? Capital is a coward and flees uncertainty, especially that brought about by such mindless acts of bravery as playing with the atom bomb. The BJP’s monkeying around with India’s poor, who suffer when growth dips, would be unpardonable in a civilized nation. Advani is from the Luhana caste that Azim Premji and Jinnah are also from. But his exile has imbalanced him, as his autobiography shows. He wants to hit back at Pakistan, but the militant instinct is misplaced because it hurts his country.

Manusmriti is wrong in this sense: Nations are best ruled by traders and not warriors. It shouldn’t worry Indians that someone wrote a book about caste rules 3,000 years ago. What should terrify us is our inability to break out of the book’s stereotypes.

Back stage heroes Iyengar and Nayak

2010-12-02T10:41:00.003+05:30

(from left) Sourabh, Dr. Johnson and Dr. Shrikant.

(from left) Dr. Nayak, Sourabh and Arjun.

Imagine a situation. India is playing an important match. The contest is very close, both teams press hard and are on an aggressive mode. Suddenly a vital cog in the Indian mid-field collides with an opponent, tumbles, falls on the ground and writhing in pain. He or she is unable to even stand up, it seems the team is in danger of losing the match.

Its normal sight on turfs in every tournament. It is also equally normal that 2 or 3 volunteers come running in and take the player to sidelines on a stretcher. Commentators hoarse it’s a huge blow to the team, ‘ the injured player is main play-maker’ they let you know.

Nothing waits for anybody, the match starts again, India substitutes and tries to keep up the same tempo. Shortly, say, after 4, 5 minutes, we see the same player who was injured minutes ago, is back on the field, so reclaimed is he that momentarily appears he never was injured in the first place!

Commentators jump at the development, and let you know the player have made a speedy recovery and how he possesses a never-say-die attitude and etc etc. But not many takes the pain to look at the team’s bench where a few pros continuously treated the injured soul, giving him ice-treat, pain-relief spray, stretch his legs and made him fit again, using all tricks in the medical trade – all in quickest possible time.

Yes, we are talking about the back-stage heroes –doctors, trainers, physiotherapists who are as important to team the as the coaches are.

Why? Dr. B.K. Nayak explains a real incident.

By the way, if you don’t know Dr. Nayak, he has been the doctor of the Indian National men’s hockey team and is from Indian Army.

“During Commonwealth Games, Gurbaj Singh got injured, was completely ruled out for the next match. I and Sri (Srikant Iyenger- Physiotherapist of the team) gave him aggressive treatment. We know Gurbaj is a crucial player, so we had to make him fit to play. We gave him strong physiotherapy, did the best we could, and next morning, believe us, he was there running on the turf” says beaming Dr. Nayak.

This is one among the innumerable examples which sheds light on the important role being played by the professionals like Nayaks and Iyengars.

The moments that etches in every tournament is the celebrations of wining teams. Be it annual Azlan Shah Cups or crucial multi-sports events like Delhi CWG. Among those excited players coaches will always be these back-room pros, enjoying every bit of team’s successes. The pictures in this essay would show that amply. Nayak and Iyengar line-up with the team as they the other five go for the crucial penalty stroke (CWG Semifinal) competition. The moment Shivender stroked the last ball, or when Bharat Chetri, our golie, jumped his right to save an English stroke, the duo fist, go berserk. They are truly part and parcel of the team, and its every feat.

When asked Dr. Nayak whether doesn’t he feel bad or slighted when people tend to forget them whenever the team wins, as normally people congratulate the players and coaches and ignore support-staff?

The word ‘gentleman’ fits them to the hilt.

“I come from Army. For us duty is the most important thing. When we are told to do a task, we do it with full honesty without hoping for limelight”

Srikant Iyenger, the enthusiastic physiotherapist also feels the same. “What we are doing is, of course, a back stage work. But we all are parts of a team. Coaches’ job is to train the players, players’ job is to play and our job is to keep the players fit. So, if Indian team wins a match, we feel satisfied that we did our job well.”

Iyenger, who also worked with Chennai Veerans in PHL, made it to the Indian team in 2007 when Joachim Carvalho took over as the national coach. At that time, team had super-stars like Dilip Tirkey, Ignace Tirkey, Prabhjot Singh. A young physio might feel a little shy or scared while wanting to give instructions to such veterans as Dilip.

But Srikant has a totally different tale to tell.

“Initially, I was a little scared because the team had big stars in it. I also thought it would be a little tougher for me, but all of them were so co-operative and sweet that it really made my job easier. If I faced any challenge, it was regarding the injuries not with any of the players. Even all the coaches I have worked with, have been really very nice. They have given me ample space to work. Different coaches have different ways of operation, but all of them have given me full freedom to operate” tells Srikant, who started his stints with the national team when worked with Dr. Kannan Pughazendi, who accompanied the Indian team for the 1996 Olympics and 2002 World Cup.

Dr. Nayak, who has worked with the Indian boxing team for so many years before joining the hockey team in June 2009, has done his M.D. in physiology and is an expert in the field of traumatology. Chief coach Jose Brasa wanted a team doctor of his caliber, and the Indian team got his services.

Brasa insists on the need to have a band of qualified and trained support-staff with the sports teams. “The amount of matches being played today is much more than earlier. Games have become much faster and tougher, so injuries are bound to happen frequently. So every team needs a doctor and physio, no second opinion on that count.”

Team physio echoes his voice and tells another reason,” Earlier, when a player got injured, he informed his coach about it, coach not being a doctor or having no access to them, often had no choice than to ignore such players for the tournaments. Injuries have always existed, but the difference is that now we are being able to heal them in time”.

Both the docs also agree on another issue -- A lot of research and development needs to be done in the field of sports-injuries in our country. Though satisfied with the facilities at the national level, they want more of them at the junior levels.

“You see, in Western countries even a small hockey or football club will have a good team of doctors to avail their professional services. This is not so in India. So, the first exposure a doctor in India gets is with the national team. Hence he takes his own time to gain some experience” says honest Iyengar.

Dr. Nayak adds, “We are far behind in the research field. Whenever there is some new invention, we come to know about it late.”

But both of them are very happy with the support they are getting form the authorities, and feel that there will be more awareness in our country regarding fitness and injuries. Both of them want to remain associated with the national team, and yes, though limelight for them is light years away.

Economics of ending Naxalism

2010-11-19T13:39:00.005+05:30

Private sector-led development can go a long way in defeating ultra-Left violence in India’s heartland

The recent series of Naxal attacks highlight the paradox of the internal security in India. Unlike virtually any other country in the world, we face daunting security challenges while being presented with extraordinary economic development opportunities. Our globally acknowledged growth story is marred by a very real and present danger in the form of Naxal militancy and fundamentalist terrorism, which are two distinct show-stoppers if not dealt with a sense of determined and sustained urgency. The sheer scale of the challenge, however, poses the fundamental question of whether we should be thinking of incorporating new stakeholders into the campaign.

Taking a page from the US operations in Iraq—where an overwhelmingly powerful army crushed the existing regime, only to find itself struggling to manage the ensuing peace process—brings a realization that perhaps a transition phase is imperative between phases of conflict and prosperity. But managing a conflict and facilitating prosperity require very different skill sets.

As Thomas Barnett, adviser to the Pentagon, points out, the strategic purpose of security forces hinges on menacing and punitive response to events threatening national security. By their very nature, such a response is focused on rapid, and, if necessary, violent degradation of opposing forces. In our case, these would be operations against the Naxal militants. The emphasis is on speed of operations, often unilateral in nature, using a young force whose core training is in destructive operations.

Building prosperity, however, requires different mind and skill sets. This calls for non-threatening, long-term, continuous and economically self-sustaining operations. It focuses on capacity-building rather than capturing power centres. This has to be a deliberate, multilateral and inclusive set of activities carried out by a mature body of people. People who can spot growth opportunities and empower the affected districts to create an environment that is preventive to militancy, rather than punitive towards it.

Fortunately India has an opportunity to leverage the proven wealth generating capabilities of its entrepreneurs, companies and non-governmental organizations and use burgeoning economic growth as a weapon against militancy and anti-national activities. Devil’s advocates could have arguments against this. Primary among them would be a concern of exploitation by companies, which is also advocated as a raison d’être of militancy in the first place. Conflicts of interest between industries such as mining and the population of forested areas are a fact. That argument, however, is facetious in the face of mobile penetration, microfinance and information technology-assisted education and several other similar transformations that have multiplied the wealth of countless districts—with minimal collateral consequences.

Another argument could be concerns for safety of the participating firms. There have been instances of losses suffered by the latter in projects because of the insecure operating environment in militancy-prone areas. But there are also success stories of businesses thriving in Jammu and Kashmir and the North-East, which illustrate the point that a business model co-opting and including the masses has the power to turn them towards a brighter future. India with its successful resolution of the Punjab militancy— which is not even a memory for Gen X—should know this. So the argument that the environment must be completely secure before companies can enter has a corollary that entry of business opportunities contributes to creating a secure environment.

The question for companies is not whether there is a return on investment in such projects. It is about whether they can afford not to get involved. There is clearly a limit to the growth potential in “secure” zones. When one-third of India’s land mass is in the grip of some form of disturbance, it is only a matter of time before economic growth of the private sector starts hitting a ceiling. Moreover, it is also only a matter of time before militancy from the hinterland spills over into urban “secure” areas.

The challenge for the private sector is to reorganize its business paradigm to specifically target disturbed areas. The numbers work in its favour. Almost all such areas have only a fractional militant composition. Eventually majority of the local population will rally around income generating opportunities. Because militancy by itself cannot generate sustained income. Income brings access to communication facilities such as mobile phones and television, resulting in knowledge and aspiration. Militants focus on disrupting communication networks precisely for this reason.

The recent initiative of rapprochement with Pakistan—Aman ki Asha— initiated by private organizations illustrates the viability of a similar model with internal security as well. If lack of prosperity and development is the foundation of Naxal ideology, then it is an easier nut to crack than differences with Pakistan. And, therefore, if a group of eminent entrepreneurs whose credibility is beyond question were to assure sustainable poverty alleviation programmes in affected areas—after they became peaceful—the ideological platform of Naxal leadership would have no locus standi. The masses would then realize that militant leaders are standing in the way of progress or delaying it for purely selfish purposes. The key is to bridge that trust deficit so that prosperity gets a chance.

We’re too self-absorbed to be team players

2010-03-28T14:37:00.001+05:30

Why are Indians poor at team sports? We do not win at hockey or at football. We are good at cricket, but cricket isn’t really a team sport. We shall see why later. Indians have played club football for over 100 years, but our Fifa ranking is 132, one place below Fiji. Hockey has been inflicted on us as national game. We don’t enjoy it and do not watch it. We’re no good at playing it now, but we used to win at hockey once (eight Olympic golds). So what happened? Europeans worked out how their teams could defeat our great individuals, like Dhyan Chand.

We depend on genius—on a tour to New Zealand, Dhyan Chand scored 100 out of 192 goals—they depend on method and physical discipline. They quell their instinct towards heroism and accept a subsumed role, in favour of team efficiency and consistency. Why can’t Indians do the same thing? The answer is that we cannot understand harmony. That’s why we are poor at things that require selfless interaction, like team sports. Indians do not have the instinct of acting in concert. We find it difficult to put the other person ahead of ourselves even if both might benefit. This lack of harmony isn’t limited to sports, it is inherent: We see it every day in our mindless traffic.

This is why India’s hockey team must be drawn from egalitarian communities, who are more open to harmony, and six players are Sikh. The only Indian for whom football or hockey is his primary sport is the Christian. Harmony comes to him from his faith, and it is infused through. You can see it also in his music. Of the Symphony Orchestra of India’s 11 Indian musicians, nine are Catholic. Why? The rest of us find symphonic music difficult because it stresses harmony, which means different melodies playing together. We don’t see the appeal of that, and the only Indian conductor of quality is Parsi. We prefer one clear melody and the heroic solo, like our great Hindustani music. In it one person holds forth, and all other musicians are in accompaniment.

But in a team sport, who will be that person? When Baichung Bhutia broke out as a player of quality, his complaint about his Indian teammates was that they did not pass the ball enough. Everyone wanted to be the star. On the other hand, being named to their cricket team as 12th man is a matter of great honour for Australians.

Let’s understand why cricket doesn’t have the characteristics of a team sport. Hockey and football are flowing sports. Cricket is a stop-start game. It doesn’t need harmony, and so we can be good at it. Each ball is an individual event, with a story and a conclusion. It’s why the cricket match can be reduced from five days to 3 hours without damage. Even the one-over match would be interesting, conclusive and satisfying, unlike the one-minute hockey match. A ball bowled is really a contest between two individuals, bowler and batsman. The fielders are in accompaniment. The batting side functions as a team even less. Interaction isn’t required because cricket isn’t played like football or hockey, where each movement emerges from the one before it.

The little space that is available for teamwork in cricket is not used by Indians. The South African and Australian cricketer punishes himself for the team by keeping in a high state of fitness. Our cricketers do not look like athletes, and they have little motivation to keep fit. Like Sehwag, like Tendulkar, they are artists and can help the team in greater ways than by good fielding and fast running. They contribute their genius, they do not link to the team through minor things.

In other cultures, the individual’s brilliance is only an aspect of the team. Ian Chappell observed that for Indian spectators it was okay that India lost as long as Sachin got his century. This would never happen in Australia. What he noted was actually our appreciation of genius over harmony.

Because he is focused on himself, the Indian is a good cricketer, but does not really understand the sport. His thinking is outsourced to the European.

IPL’s coaches are: Greg Shipperd (Daredevils), Dav Whatmore (Knight Riders), Ray Jennings (Royal Challengers), Shane Warne (Royals), Tom Moody (Kings XI), Stephen Fleming (Super Kings) and Darren Lehmann (Chargers). The one Indian coach, Robin Singh of Mumbai, is West Indian.

The Indian professional doesn’t study his sport though, like Tendulkar or Gavaskar, he might be a student of his own technique. That’s why our cricket team is coached by Gary Kirsten, our hockey team is coached by Jose Brasa, our football team is coached by Bob Houghton.

This disinterest shows elsewhere. The Indian’s commentary is poor and, stripped of his clichés, he has little to offer. Expert commentary is outsourced to thinkers like Benaud, Boycott and Barry Richards, because the Indian, no matter how many matches he has played, cannot provide it.

So internalized is this lack of harmony in us, that we do not notice such things. It is expected that Indians will need the coaching of Europeans.

Let us look at this question: Why is our culture marked by its lack of harmony?

The Hindi-medium Indian will be unable even to grasp the question because he can only view his culture, sanskriti, with reverence. The other thing is, India cannot be understood except in relief, after one has seen other nations, and experienced other cultures. For this, English is needed.

The English-medium Indian suspects something is wrong with his culture, but is unable to penetrate. He is liberal, and his liberalism trains him to reject answers based on race and culture. He wants to see the problem in secular terms, as a function of economics or of literacy. But he’s unable to explain the anarchy of India in this manner.

He is primed for an epiphany, which might in one moment illuminate the world around him.

What emerges when the dots connect is disturbing.

Women’s Reservation Bill: debasing India’s democracy.

2010-03-19T11:02:00.001+05:30

Hiding behind the fairer sex, entrenched party leaders are solidifying their authority over backbenchers.

It was advertised as a historic day. On 8 March, the centenary of International Women’s Day, India’s governing coalition planned to present the country with a constitutional amendment reserving 33% of the seats for women in national and state legislatures. However, it was not to be. The failure of the amendment to pass was dubbed by the law minister a national day of shame, as a few unruly members of Parliament, particularly in the Rajya Sabha, created such a ruckus that the House had to be adjourned six times.

The Bill was adopted in the Rajya Sabha the next day, with the government promising to bring further amendments. But it has also exposed the widening gap within the governing allies, and it is likely to be a close race in the Lok Sabha.

Increasing women’s participation in politics sounds like a fine idea in principle. But its implementation would have grave consequences for the quality of India’s governance and political culture.

A comfortable majority in Parliament professes to support the Women’s Reservation Bill, with dominant parties on both sides of the political divide in favour. However, the truth is that many members are apprehensive about the consequences. And that opposition can’t be explained away as simply the vested interest of male politicians.

First of all, the justifications for the amendment don’t stand up to scrutiny. If there is indeed political and social support for greater participation of women in politics, nothing prevents political parties from choosing more female candidates. Nor would reservations somehow change the status of women in the country—some of the worst forms of discrimination against women continued to take place even after Indira Gandhi became prime minister in the 1960s. And finally, outstanding women leaders such as Jayalalithaa in Tamil Nadu and Mamata Banerjee in West Bengal have come up on their own through persistence and political acumen. In the name of empowering women, the Bill is very paternalistic, believing that women cannot make it in politics on their own.

More importantly, the Bill poses a threat to the nature of India’s representative democracy. While the reservation of a few seats for certain castes might be accepted as a temporary anomaly necessary to correct historic wrongs, a reservation for such a broad section of the population undermines India’s “first past the post” electoral system. The Bill moves India towards a proportional representation system dividing the population on sectional lines. This is a change from the basic design of the Constitution, and the debates in the Constituent Assembly, when the notion of separate electorates was considered and rejected.

In the current system, parliamentary constituencies comprise a wide range of people, forcing candidates to build a social and political coalition to have a reasonable chance of winning the election. It is this tendency to bridge the sectional divide among the population that has been the hallmark of Indian democracy, where diversity has only strengthened the political institutions.

If India is to tread the path towards ensuring representation according to the diversity of the population, by adopting a kind of proportional electoral system, then the social coalition will inevitably break down, leading to increased political instability. The demand for a sectional quota within the women’s quota would be a logical step in that direction. And the next step could be to demand political reservation for men as well along sectional lines. This would signal the end of the idea of India.

Accountability to voters will also be reduced. At one stroke, by rotating the constituencies reserved for women, an enormous political churning will be triggered. Legislators who have built up their own independent base of support within their constituencies will be forced out of office. Two-thirds of the sitting members of the legislature may have to surrender their seats under a rotational reservation for women. In effect, this will disempower the voter, and reduce the incentive for elected representatives to be seriously concerned with the issues affecting their constituencies.

Party leaders stand to benefit the most from a system where the voters are not in a position to assess the performance of their representative. The parties will have to constantly put forward new candidates, and these are chosen by the leaders—there is no inner party democracy in India. Hiding behind the fairer sex, entrenched party leaders are solidifying their authority over backbenchers.

This represents an extension of the anti-defection law passed by the Congress government of Rajiv Gandhi in 1986, when it had an unprecedented majority in Parliament. Under this law, a legislator is required to vote along party lines or face disqualification from Parliament. That spelt the end of meaningful parliamentary debate. Now Sonia Gandhi is attempting to push through a constitutional amendment that deals another body blow to representative democracy. At a time when the rest of the world is beginning to appreciate the Indian democratic miracle, it is ironic indeed that the country’s own political leadership is seeking to change its democratic character to further its own narrow interests.

उनके लिए

2010-02-19T15:33:00.000+05:30

दो जवां दिलों का ग़म दूरियाँ समझती हैं

क्यों हुआ मई दीवाना बेड़ियाँ समझती हैं

कल तलक तो ये लगता था की ये दुनिया हमारी है

अब अपने ही घर में किसी दूसरे के घर के हम हैं|

कहते हैं, कि वो अफ़साना जिसे अंजाम तक लाना ना हो मुमकिन, उसे ख़ूबसूरत मोड़ देकर छोड़ना अच्छा है, पर वो रास्ते में कहाँ गुम हुई, मुझे इल्म तक ना हुआ, बस ये एक प्यारा सा एहसास बाकी है, की वो कभी तो मेरे साथ कदम से कदम मिलाकर चली थी, तकलीफ़ वहाँ नहीं थी, दोनों ही जानते थे कि मोहब्बत है और वे एक दूसरे को भूलने की कोशिश करें और ना इस बात का ग़म था कि दोनों दिल ही दिल में एक दूसरे को चाहें और इज़हार ना कर पाएँ, लेकिन दर्द था इस बात का की वो जानती थी कि उसके बग़ैर मेरी ज़िंदगी की कोई अहमियत नही, फिर भी मुझे छोड़कर चली गयी|

कोई ये कैसे बताए की वो तन्हा क्यों है

वो जो अपना था वही और किसी का क्यों है

यही दुनिया है तो ऐसी ये दुनिया क्यों है

यही होता है तो आख़िर यही होता क्यों है|

तुमसे मिलना, तुमसे बिछड़ना इन्ही लम्हों में मैने अपनी पूरी ज़िंदगी जी ली, मैं आज भी उन जगहों में जाकर तुम्हें महसूस करते हुए ये सोचता हूँ, कि ये सब तुम्ही से रोशन थे क्यों कि तुम्हारे जाने के बाद हरियाली के यहाँ कितने ही मौसम आए लेकिन ये कभी ना संवर सकी|

तुम्हारे बगैर और वो सब कुछ ठीक है

मगर यूँ ही

ये चलता-फिरता शहर अजनबी सा लगता है|

किस से कहें और क्या कहें, ये दर्द के जॅंगल भी तो मेरे ही बनाए हुए हैं, तुमसे अलग होकर जैसे मैं अपनी ज़िंदगी को समझाने की कोशिश करता, लेकिन यादों की हल्की सी पूर्वाई चलती और मैं देर तक उनके साथ उड़ता चला जाता, उन्ही लम्हों के जंगलों में, जहाँ मेरे ही दर्द की सिसकियाँ सुनाई देती हैं, और कभी इन वीरान जंगलों में खुशियों की घटा भी छाती तो बिना बरसे ही उड़कर चली जाती और मैं इस इंतज़ार में रहता कि तुम फिर वापस आओगी, मैं अक्सर उन राहों से गुज़रता हूँ जहाँ हम कभी साथ मिलकर चले थे, उन उजाड़ टीलों पर घंटो बैठना, जहाँ तुम्हारी महक आज भी बसी हुई है, मैं जनता हूँ की तुम नहीं हो, कहीं नहीं हो, फिर भी ये लगता है कि तुम आज भी यहीं कहीं हो| इन आवार्गियों में भटकना, इन तन्हाइयों के जंगलों को रात भर नापना हमेशा एक सुकून देता है कि इन्ही लम्हों में तुम बसी हो|

महक रही हैं फ़िज़ाएं एहसास से तुम्हारे

जैसे कोई ख़ुशबू हो तुम्हारे बारे में सोचते रहना

रात का धूंधलका गहराना शुरू हो गया था, वक़्त की ख़ामोशी भी अब टूटने को थी, लेकिन ये हवा अभी भी तुम्हारी तलाश में थी और शायद सदियों तक रहेगी, आज मैं अपने यादों की घाटियों में बहुत गहराई तक उतार गया था, क्यों की खुद मुझे अपनी ही गूँज वहाँ सुनाई दे रही थी, लेकिन यहाँ भी मैं अकेला कहाँ था, तुम भी तो मेरे साथ थी|

शायद यहीं कहीं..........

A club by another name

2010-02-02T16:41:00.000+05:30

Sant Singh Chatwal is a hotelier, a rich man with many diverse interests. He was also the subject of a criminal investigation by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) for defrauding Indian banks. Two CBI directors, as recent reports suggest, dropped these charges. No prizes for guessing how and why this was done. Chatwal has now been awarded the Padma Bhushan, India’s third highest civilian honour. It is common knowledge that often those who get these awards are less than meritorious. This causes heartburn. But there are other objections as well. If the quality of those given the prizes has fallen over time so has the quality of the selection process. A more basic question, however, is if a democratic state should issue such awards at all. Both questions are linked, as the Chatwal controversy shows. The bestowing of medals, ranks, titles and other ceremonial stuff by states is as old as history itself. In the modern age, however, this sits uneasily with the role of a government. Why? Any government today is expected to be an arbiter of rules and a keeper of civic order. Good governments keep markets regulated (but stay away from interfering in them), secure the property of citizens and, in general, ensure a level playing field among citizens. The giving away of awards, ones that confer prestige, makes governments a participant in this game. This worked well in the age of kings and queens when hierarchy between citizens was considered normal. Not anymore. When this occurs, dangerous things happen. It gives a government an enormous advantage in setting the “prestige agenda”, much like a beauty contest, but without the charm of the latter. It could, hypothetically, work well as long as the quality of the selection process is not compromised. This is wishful thinking. Any democratically elected government is manned by persons of ambition, not saints. Ministers and politicians alike want to give awards to further their agenda, and not national interest. From the controversy over selling of peerages by the Tony Blair government to our shoddy committee-based procedures for all kinds of awards, devaluation is common. This has a negative effect. The government, instead of ensuring a level playing field, creates a club where some citizens and non-citizens muscle their way in. The process is reminiscent of patronage in a monarchy. In a democracy, it leads to jockeying. There is acute demoralization of citizens. This is the story of ourPadma awards.

The Republic of corruption!

2010-01-28T13:00:00.001+05:30

We need a combination of credible systems and collective leadership to catalyse a virtuous cycle of change.

Most times I read a piece about corruption, I have what I suspect is a fairly common reaction—“Not another moralizing piece!” And so, a promise —this piece on corruption won’t preach.

We can safely declare that while we may not have achieved universal education in India, we have succeeded in universalizing corruption. Consider the list of corruption-infested activities:

Birth certificates, building licences, ration cards, medical supplies, primary school admissions, examination papers, police station postings, mining permits, master planning, defence contracts, court pronouncements, environmental clearances, NGO funding, corporate balance sheets, auditor statements, bank loan sanctions, burial grounds, petrol pump licences, natural gas concessions, power plants, water supply distribution, affordable housing allotments, parking violations, speeding violations, treating accident victims, telecom tariffs, manure for municipal parks, dairy cooperatives, microfinance, garbage contracts, highway contracts, auto-rickshaw meters, bus tickets, press coverage, beggars, hawker zones, NREGA payments, JNNURM contracts, missile systems, government school chalk contracts, army uniform supplies, temple priests, church conversions, mullah edicts, sales tax offices, small-scale industry licences, coffee boards, political parties, candidate tickets, governors’ offices, intelligence bureau, Border Security Force, train reservations, cricket boards, censor board, Olympic committee, forest preservation, backward class reservation, college admissions,panchayat presidents, municipal mayors, movie-making, temple hundis, heritage preservation, tiger protection, aircraft purchases, milk procurement, government fair price shops (ironically named), RTI offices, rape victim depositions, hit-and-run cases, FIR registration, disabilities Act implementation, foster homes, adoption agencies, fertilizer subsidies, land use conversions, Ganapati festivals, factory emissions, labour unions, employment exchanges, student hostels, passport offices, drivers’ licences, excise duties, tourist visas, pilgrimage spots, death certificates...

From birth to death, we are now immersed in corruption. Thought experiment—try and think of one public activity that is free, actually completely free, from corruption.

If there is a common thread that binds us together as Indians, it is corruption. One massive national endeavour in which each of us is an active agent—either as perpetrator or as victim or as beneficiary. The specific role we play changes—just as Vishnu takes different avatars, we assume different garbs depending on the situation: often victim, sometimes beneficiary, and not infrequently perpetrator.

It’s got so pervasive that there is an almost ubiquitous corruption-level guessing game going on in everyone’s minds, be it in government, in the private sector or NGOs: “I heard that so-and-so is corrupt, that is how they can afford all those new gadgets, and the fancy holidays they take.”

Gone are the days of “innocent until proven guilty”; today the mantra is “corrupt until proven honest”. Unfortunately, honesty is like scientific theory—it can never be proved, only disproved. And so, the honest folk who resist are fighting a constant uphill battle—pretty soon, the corrosive effect of corruption seeps in to erode almost everyone’s defence—built on a varying mix of ethics, fear and fading hope in a day of comeuppance.

We find ourselves so neck-deep in the swamp that we don’t even sense the stink any more. In fact, we have constructed twisted arguments to condone corruption, including the ingenious one which says that all the corruption-driven money eventually comes back into the economy, so it’s okay—that in fact it was India’s large grey market that helped cushion the impact of the global economic crisis in 2009.

When a phenomenon is so pervasive that it engulfs an entire society, we cannot get out of the mess by pretending that some are superior to others, or with lectures that lament a bygone ethical way of life—it only puts everyone off, especially the youth. And, for all its punchy impact, Rajkumar Hirani’s movie on Gandhigiri was never really going to work in real life. This is a problem where isolated individual action isn’t enough— we need something more, much bigger, a combination of credible systems and collective leadership—to catalyse a virtuous cycle of change.

Unfortunately, it’s not clear where the flywheel for this change will come from. Politics is a logical answer, just as it has been in other countries. But in India, large-scale politics is a Faustian bargain with integrity as barter.

For all the gloom, it’s also true that we have the capacity in our country to harness a collective energy, rise above our circumstances, and undertake massive transformation. We’ve done it before —what better reminder than 26 January? Maybe that was a unique event, and we can never have an encore. Or, perhaps, we could do it again. Happy 60th anniversary for the Republic. In hope.

ANOTHER 60TH BIRTHDAY PARTY

2010-01-27T13:05:00.000+05:30

It was a birthday party with a difference. The “kid” has behaved better than its parents. The home work has not been easy. And even when completed in time, no candy had been handed out. Now that surely calls for a cake.

On Monday, the Election Commission of India (EC), an institution a day older than the Republic, turned 60. There was all-round praise. Politicians, who have often accused EC of bias, were all praise for it on Monday. Its success in keeping democracy in running order is unquestionable.

Two factors, institutional and human, have worked in its favor. To begin with, India’s founding fathers wisely entrusted the task of conducting elections to a non-partisan, apolitical body. Had that not been the case, political events in India would have taken a very different turn. Pakistan provides a contrasting example. The first election in that country, for the Punjab legislative assembly, witnessed blatant misuse of state machinery and administrative intervention on behalf of select candidates. That undermined the credibility of elections there from the start. In India, the rot began much later and never reached levels that could imperil democracy.

The second, equally vital, ingredient in this process has been human. From the time of Sukumar Sen, the first chief election commissioner (CEC), EC has been manned by persons of ability and integrity. There have been some slipups, no doubt, but these are aberrations that have never threatened the edifice.

What of the future? EC’s role and the environment it works is that of constitutional comfort, beyond the whims of capricious representatives it helps elect. With political coalitions being the flavor of the time, it is unlikely that this institutional order can be changed in a way that can harm democracy.

Governments are often tempted to appoint “their” men to man the commission. But constitutional guarantees ensure that CECs turn out to be nobody’s fools. That game will continue, but the results are also clear: It will be a person of very poor quality who will turn partisan when he or she adorns the office of CEC.

The challenges to democracy lie beyond the portals of the commission.

Why Hindus should weed out Gita’s message

2009-09-13T18:49:00.000+05:30

Human experience tells us that those asked to work without expectation of reward normally do no work, or do shoddy work. The Gita believes otherwise

The message of the Bhagavad Gita is so electrifying that its narrator Sanjay reports that his hair is standing on end (roma-harsanam). But what exactly is that message? When he began reading Indianauthors, V.S. Naipaul noticed a strange thing. They only recorded inner experience, ignoring the world around them.

Inner world: Gandhi was unmoved by London’s buildings and people.

In 1888, on his first visit outside India, Gandhi landed in Southampton. In his autobiography he noted two things: It was Saturday, and he was the only person wearing white flannel (it was October). The scale of London, its foreignness, its buildings and architecture, its cleanliness, its people—all of that is taken for granted by Gandhi, a 19-year-old villager from Porbandar. He should have been stunned by the differences. But he notices nothing.

Indians, Naipaul observes, have “no feeling for the physical world”. He is right, but why do we look away from the physical world? To see what our culture says about this let us look at the Bhagavad Gita.

The Gita has three messages:

• We must work without expectation of reward

• The soul is immortal: The body and the outside world are unimportant— Chapter 2

• We must aspire not to a state of action (rajas) or inaction (tamas) but purity (sattva)—Chapters 14 and 18

The Gita’s definition of sattva—goodness (14:5), serenity (14:6), wisdom (14:17)—will puzzle someone who wants to follow Krishna’s advice and become sattvik.

On the other hand it is easy to be rajasik—driven to action (14:9), passionate (14:12), hungry for reward. Human experience tells us that those asked to work without expectation of reward normally do no work, or do shoddy work. The Gita believes otherwise.

We are familiar with the famous line that starts Karmani eva adhikaraste... (2:47), but it is actually a couplet. The second line cautions us not to be motivated in action, or attached to inaction. In another place we are told the wise man sees action in inaction and inaction in action (4:18). This ambiguity in the Gita—act but don’t act—has given spiritual gurus the space to do endless philosophizing. It is the favourite text of all from Vivekanand to Sri Sri Ravishankar, and Gita sessions dominate the daily engagements column of newspapers in our cities.

The Gita tells us to withdraw our senses like a tortoise its limbs (2:58), because all answers are within us.

So this looking inwards, this detachment that Naipaul observes, is actually prescribed by the Gita. Are all Hindu texts like this? No.

The Vedas are very different, aggressively materialist and extroverted. The Vedic chant is really a list of demands on the Gods, particularly Agni and Indra: Give me this, give me that. But the chanter’s hunger assumes action that needs divine support. In the vocabulary of the Gita, the Vedas are rajasik.

Naipaul then makes a second, more cruel, observation. Because Indians are oblivious to the world, we don’t participate. The behaviour of Indians “is parasitic. It depends on the continued activity of others, the trains running, the presses printing... It needs the world but surrenders the organisation of the world to others” (India: A Wounded Civilisation). When the Indian is at a great foreign airport, his thoughts are on how not to look foolish. He has no wonder about how the place works (A Bend in the River).

He is right again. All who observed India closely have noticed our peculiar shutting out.

Allama Iqbal went to Europe for his PhD and came back transformed in 1908. The great unifier till then, he began separating Muslim culture from Hindu on his return. In 1904, Iqbal wrote Tarana-e-Hindi, commonly called Saare jahan se achcha. In 1910, he wrote Tarana-e-Milli, which goes: Muslim hain hum, watan hai saara jahan hamara (The whole world is the Muslim’s nation). Iqbal didn’t suddenly decide to start hating Hindus: He worried that their culture would also take Muslims down with it.

Kipling, who knew Indians well, wrote about its danger in The Miracle of Puran Bhagat. It is the story of a powerful minister, a wise man, who renounces his position and family and becomes a sage. He tries to run away from the world but eventually finds himself only through action, not mindless renunciation.

Are we stuck with our culture forever? Not necessarily. The detached Gandhi of Southampton became a magnificent man of action, but only after exposure to Europeans. When he visited India in 1896, he was aghast by our apathy, because after eight years abroad he was able to observe it as an outsider. He saw the inexplicable attitude of the Indian, obsessing about ritual pollution to his body through caste, but oblivious to an environment he kept polluted beyond belief.

Modernity has brought no difference: We are one of the filthiest people on earth in 2009. But we can live beside filth quite comfortably because we are trained to ignore it. Our high tolerance to the anarchy of India comes from our religion.

Today the Mumbaikar recognizes the Parsi for his ability to engage with machines. We even pay him a premium for the car he cares for. But we cannot replicate his simple actions, which should come easily to us because every other culture behaves that way. We cannot, because the Gita’s message of disengagement is so effective. The unobservant do not invent, and that is true of Indians, a highly evolved people who have little or no invention to their name.

When he comes, if he comes, our Martin Luther must reform the culture by moving the Gita from Hinduism’s centre to its periphery, where it should be revered, not followed. Its sophisticated message of detachment is for yogis, not ordinary men. Something more mundane and work-oriented must replace the Gita, even if that message is less electrifying.

My barber’s wisdom

2009-09-13T18:43:00.000+05:30

‘There are two kinds of poor people, those who have the capacity to improve their lives, and those who don’t’

Once every few weeks, I visit my barber Narayan for a haircut —that mandatory male ritual that accompanies us throughout our lives.

Narayan is a successful entrepreneur, running two shops in Bangalore, employing several people and offering an expanding range of tonsorial solutions.

The haircuts are always accompanied by clockwork-rhythm conversations—we begin as he swooshes his crisp white cloth around my shirt and ties it behind my neck, and end as he brings the framed mirror for me to approve the haircut.

Normally, the topic of our talks are interesting but somewhat generic —movies, politics and cricket. But our last trimming conversation touched on a personal chord—Narayan’s life journey. It was filled with pearls of wisdom—about hard work, running a successful business, and surprisingly, the government’s poverty programmes.

“Narayan”, I began as the starched cloth settled on my shirt, “how long have you been a barber?”

“Oh, 37 years now”, he smiled.

“And how did it start? Did you always have your own shop?”

“No sir, I came to Bangalore from my village at the age of 19, running away to earn a living. No education, no skills, nothing to save me except my determination. I found work as a cleaner in Ashoka Hotel (one of Bangalore’s old premium hotels). One of my jobs was to clean the barber shop floor. Soon, I realized that there was a lot of money to be made from tips as a barber, so I learnt after work. In a few years, I was working as a barber, and did that for several years before I had enough to start my own business.”

“How did you manage to save enough with a barber’s salary and tips?”

“I never said ‘no’ to any opportunity to earn more money. Some of the richer clients preferred to have haircuts at their homes. So I would get there by 6am, finish the haircut, get to the hotel by 8, then repeat the same thing in the evening.

“I scrimped and scrounged—for food, I would go to the Janata Hotel near Shivajinagar, and order one idli, but the sambar was unlimited, so I would keep asking for more sambar to fill my stomach.

“Every single day, I saved money. Within a few years, I had enough to start my own business. And now,” he waved his scissors around with a blend of humble pride, “I have two of these parlours in prime locations.”

“And you still do haircuts, despite being quite well off?”

“For some customers, yes. This is a relationship business. Would you come back if I asked someone else to cut your hair?” he smiled cannily at me in the mirror.

“What about vacations?” I asked. “Do you take time off?”

“In the past 40 years, I have taken two holidays, of four days each.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed.

“Well, I also take a two-day break every year with my staff. We go to some nice hill station, such as Ooty. We sightsee, eat well, enjoy ourselves. And then, back to work the next morning.”

“What about your family? Are they OK with this lifestyle?”

“I have a daughter and a son. My son takes care of the other shop. Daughter was married five years back, big choultry. I spent Rs50 lakh on the wedding. Called everyone from the village, gave each woman a silk saree. It felt really good to see the pandal on the stage that day. I thought of my parents. My family is used to my discipline, it is what saved us.”

He was working on the back of my head now, more than halfway done.

“So Narayan, you are clearly a self-made man, got nothing from the government. What do you feel about anti-poverty programmes such as NREGA?”

“It’s a good thing, poor people will benefit”, he said very matter-of-factly.

“But, you didn’t get anything from government, and succeeded with your own effort. Isn’t that the message we need to send to the poor, that they need to take ownership over their own lives, rather than depend on government handouts?”

“Sir, there are two kinds of poor people, those who have the capacity to improve their lives, and those who don’t. For those who don’t, we cannot just leave them to their fate, they need help. And even among those with capacity, luck plays a big role in coming out of poverty. I was lucky. There are many who are not. This second group of people also need help.

“In any event, most people don’t want to have their hands turned up all their lives.”

He had brought the mirror. I checked my haircut and nodded, even as I caught my reflection in Narayan’s hands.

Bollywood producers, multiplexes end standoff

2009-06-07T11:39:00.000+05:30

The two parties reached a consensus over the rationalization of profit sharing for forthcoming films

Mumbai: Bollywood producers have agreed to end a crippling two-month standoff over revenue sharing with Indian multiplexes that had dried up releases and led to large losses in the world’s most prolific film industry.
The deadlock, which piled woes on an industry already battling a slowdown, ended late on Thursday after eight hours of talks when both sides came to a verbal agreement.
“The strike has been called off and you will see films being released at the box office from next week onwards,” Tushar Dhingra of Big Cinemas, part of the Reliance ADAG group, told Reuters.
Producers had demanded a 50% share in box-office revenues, while multiplex owners favoured a performance-linked model based on a film’s budget and star power, resulting in a deadlock that has seen almost no releases since 4 April.
“We have agreed to a 50% revenue share for the first week, across board for all movies, including Hollywood films,” Priti Shahani, senior vice president of the Indian Film Company, told Reuters.
Multiplexes are largely concentrated in cities and big towns in India, and have also encouraged the production of low-budget films that are a departure from song-and-dance extravaganzas.
India’s filmed entertainment sector, estimated at about $2.2 billion, is forecast to grow by more than 9% every year over the next five years, according to consultants KPMG.
Box-office revenues are still less than 10% of Hollywood’s because of low ticket prices.
Dhingra said all national multiplexes were part of the agreement. The two month gap will mean a backlog of movies waiting to be released, which may hurt smaller companies.
“The deadlock hasn’t really caused losses for the producers so far, because it has only meant releases have been pushed forward,” trade analyst Komal Nahta said.
“However there will be a huge pile up of releases in the next few months, which is bad news for smaller films.”

The thing about the tiger

2009-05-30T16:41:00.001+05:30

Be it in Kanha, the Sunderbans or Corbett, too many tigers are still dying unnatural deaths. But why is saving the tiger so important? And how can you contribute?

Before you snigger at yet another tiger story, let me assure you that I understand your point. Yes, it is our national animal and yes, it is quite a sight even in the zoo. But in a country that is wracked by poverty, unemployment and terrorism, does the tiger deserve prime ministerial intervention? 
No wonder you just don’t get this thing about the tiger.
The more compassionate among us might spare a thought for it were we not repelled by rabid environmentalists who seem to value all living beings except humans. But for most, the tiger does not make the cut. It does not even make a legal pet. Is there, then, a valid case for saving the tiger? 
Years ago, I was with some children at the Dhikala Complex in Corbett National Park. When I asked why they were there, they told me they had come “to see a tiger”. Why tiger? “It’s so big and powerful…even elephants are scared of it…”
At this point, a proud father prompted his seven-year-old to say “We must save the tiger” and a few other children echoed the same thought. But when I asked them why they should do so, even the parents looked foxed. 
Suddenly, a tiny girl threw up her hand and said in a sing-song voice: “…because it is the king of beasts”. With a few children protesting “nooo, that’s the lion”, the parents broke into indulgent laughter. 
But I had my answer. This whole thing about the tiger is not about the tiger.
Though it is indeed the king of the Indian forests, having won the territorial battle with the Asiatic lion long ago, let us not meddle with traditional titles. What children understand as king of beasts is, in fact, the ecological equivalent of the apex predator or the animal at the top of a food pyramid. In that sense, both lions and tigers are kings. 
Common sense tells us that to keep the top block in place, every block down the pyramid must be in place. So a healthy tiger population typically indicates that everything is fine with the rest of the forest. The same is true of the lion, but it can serve as an indicator only for Sasan Gir National Park, Gujarat. The tiger roams much of India’s best forests. So this thing about the tiger is really about the entire forest. 
In talking to children, few can match Mumbai-based environmentalist Bittu Sahgal, who runs the Kids For Tigers campaign. Some of his ploys are dramatic. One of his routines is to call two children on stage (usually a boy with cropped hair and a girl with a thick mop). He asks them to bend over, then pours a glass of water on their heads. Then he takes out two white handkerchiefs to wipe their hair dry. He demonstrates how the handkerchief used by the boy gets less wet than the one used by the girl. It’s Sahgal’s way of telling children how forest cover is essential for our water security.
Our forests are the source of 300 rivers and perennial streams; without forests, these water bodies would dry up. 
There are many other reasons to value our remaining 64 million hectares of forests. A few years ago, the Centre put a conservative annual estimate of Rs40,000 crore as the value of assets exploited from forests— from biggies such as timber, medicinal plants and salt, to lesser derivatives such as tendu leaves, or firewood. This figure does not include minerals (around 75% of our mines are inside forests), encroached plantations or illegal wildlife trade. A more realistic estimate, based on independent studies, of the annual value of our forest produce would be around Rs75,000 crore.The thing about the tiger is about protecting this treasure trove, ensuring our water security, and enjoying an annual dividend of around Rs75,000 crore. Anyone who has fathomed this has a very selfish reason to bother about the big cat.
The thing about the tiger is about us.
When I uncovered the local extinction of tigers at the Sariska National Park, Rajasthan, in January 2005, the government’s initial response was that of denial. But later, the Prime Minister’s office, the Supreme Court and the Central Bureau of Investigation got involved. There was a new Central legislation (the Wildlife Protection Amendment Act, 2006) and two new Central agencies (the National Tiger Conservation Authority and the Wildlife Crime Control Bureau). The budget for tiger conservation was increased fourfold to Rs600 crore in the 11th Plan. 
Why then are tigers still dying frequent unnatural deaths? Why the disturbing headlines from Tadoba, Kanha, Pilibhit, Sunderbans or Corbett in the past few months? We can blame the lacunae in the system. But on the ground, the biggest threats are habitat loss, conflict with people and poaching.
The tiger is a territorial animal. There are gender concessions as the larger territory of a male overlaps with several smaller territories of females. But no two adult males or females usually share space. 
If they are lucky to survive their first two years, tiger cubs leave their mothers and go looking for their own territories. However, these sub-adults (known as floaters) don’t easily find space unclaimed by adult tigers. 
At this stage, a floater may kill or chase away a resident tiger or get killed or chased away. If alive, the displaced weakling or the young floater moves towards the forest periphery and may circle the forest till it gets lucky and finds a slot. Otherwise, it may find a patch that connects its native forest to an adjoining forest where it may try to shift. If there is no peripheral forest (known as buffer) or connecting patches (known as corridors) to temporarily accommodate these displaced weaklings or young floaters, the animals run into people. Such encounters usually trigger conflict and the animals are eventually killed or sent to zoos.
In natural circumstances, dispersal and deaths maintain the balance in a tiger population. But external disturbance such as mining or highways or habitation inside a forest reduces the size of the prime habitat (known as core area) and pushes too many tigers towards the buffer. These dispersed tigers are doomed if we allow agriculture, hotel resorts and other human activities right at the edge of the forest, if we cram the animals for space and pushes them into conflict. Over time, this combination of a disturbed core, a non-existent buffer and no connectivity between forests makes a tiger population locally unsustainable. Then, the remaining few are taken out by poachers, as in Sariska.
Poaching tigers is a highly specialized job that only a handful of traditional hunting communities are capable of. Without them, no poaching mafia can run the trade. But while the syndicates make Rs20-50 lakh per tiger, these hunters do the high-risk job for merely a few thousand rupees. 
I know several tiger poachers who struggle to support a family of 8-12. When not hunting, they earn less than Rs50 a day if they get work as daily wagers. Their amazing jungle sense is a rare gift but it has little use in our legal economy. 
The emphasis of our anti-poaching strategies has been on guards and guns. But guarding thousands of hectares of forests is physically impossible and financially draining. Targeted empowerment of the hunting communities is more feasible and effective. For foolproof protection, we need a carrot-and-stick policy that combines incentives for reforms with strict enforcement. 
Most communities living around tiger forests are hostile to the tiger because the protection regime restricts their livelihood options and they also end up as victims of conflict. Such hostility not only leads to frequent retaliatory killings but also allows poaching mafias to make easy inroads. Our conservation policies need to be inclusive and offer these people enough incentives to support the tiger.
We cannot altogether deny the need for forest land to meet the demands of economic growth. But we must learn to distinguish between forests, between what is still pristine and what is already degraded. India’s conservation efforts will remain ad hoc till the government formulates a national policy for land use, decides what percentage of land we can afford to leave aside as inviolate forest, identifies and prioritizes the best forests within that ceiling, and protects the designated areas uncompromisingly. 
Forget the government for a while. What can you do to save the tiger? Of course, you do not buy products made from wildlife. Yes, some of you send your children to rally for the tiger. But you can do a lot more:
• As an individual or a small organization or business, you can directly support effective conservation projects. Not only money, your specialized skills could help and you could devote a few weeks a year on the field. 
• You can visit a hostel near Ranthambore National Park, Rajasthan, and teach the children of a traditional hunting community, the Mogiyas. A project here (www.tigerwatch.net) also trains Mogiya women in handicrafts, markets the products and employs Mogiya men as forest guides or anti-poaching informers. 
• Another project, run by the Corbett Foundation (www.corbettfoundation.org) in collaboration with World Wildlife Fund-India, provides on-the-spot compensation (in addition to the government compensation that usually takes months) for any loss due to man-animal conflict around the Corbett National Park.
• You can choose from other innovative models of change such as setting up biogas plants or subsidizing LPG to cut dependence on firewood. But check if the projects are sound before investing time or money. Typically, any project that does not start showing results by the mid-term is suspect. It always makes sense to visit the project site, even if as a tiger tourist, once a year.
• While holidaying in the wild, you could opt for hotels that follow the ethics of wildlife tourism and generate local employment. Travel Operators For Tigers (www.toftigers.org), for example, is one such international movement that promises a light carbon footprint.
• If you have the power to decide for a big business house, why not trigger a turnaround? Why not buy strategic tracts of private land between adjoining forests, settle the rights of landless people residing or depending on those tracts, and hand over the land to the government to serve as undisturbed forest buffers or corridors? 
• You can also just keep it small and simple by saying no to plastic, switching off appliances that are not in use, opting for a carpool to school or work, planting trees in your backyard—every little act that helps your future helps the tiger too. 
If nothing else, talk about the big cat once in a while. And tell those who do not get this thing about the tiger.