Growing Up

Childhood. Raised with stories older than civilizations. Epics, the wisdom of several generations, painted on a land with variation beyond measure: a sub-continent. Handed down across countless generations, to be laid at the mercy of television animation of the 1990s, and the painted panels and thought bubbles of Amar Chitra Katha. 

Youth filled with cricket. Entire summer days devoted to emulate 5-day test matches, only to fall short by 4 days and 6 hours every single time. Glimpses of a few of the billion faces. A waddle in a beach, a hike up a mole hill, a safari through a forest, a tour of a monument, a drive through the ghats, a glimpse of snow covered peaks towering to the sky. The world expands and re-calibrates the senses. The sounds of a thousand languages transform and imbue memories. Every new syllable, a style of expression centuries old. Languages that mix and meld like rivers. Rivers that span kilometres, crossed on thundering railway carriages.

Adolescence. Mischief, with access to fire-crackers once a year, igniting flames that smoulder, fuelled by hormones, stifled by orthodoxy and housed in centres of co-education. The furnace of young adulthood crushed under the weight of tomes stacked up to the stratosphere. Loud voices preaching and promising a bright future, but a silent voice whispering that there can be no other present. Minds that wish to observe, explore, charm, fantasise, attract, appreciate and be enamoured. Minds locked inside study rooms, shackled by sermons, crippled by the burden of 40 years to come.

Young adulthood. Home is left behind in the vast hometown - but a mere dot on the map. Meeting, mingling and making merry with compatriots from several other dots. A view of the world's layers through their glimpses and mine, expanding mutually with conversations: thoughtful, fiery, vile, lewd and caustic, but honest. Friendships forged that outlast the vagaries of time, space and fortune. Battles of wits. Battles in playgrounds. Playgrounds in classrooms. Classrooms in hostels. Boundaries destroyed between night and day. Minds pampered with limitless freedom bereft of responsibility. Hands decorated with rings clasping fraudulent degrees. A rush of blood to the head and elsewhere. A corruption of Kipling among several others: "Ours is the earth and everything in it".

Leaving a trail to revisit for decades.

The Hyderabad Half Marathon.. or how I learnt to stop worrying and catch the 2 hour pacer

The Hyderabad marathon happened this fine Sunday morning, with overcast skies looking down benevolently on a city whose running culture has taken off splendidly in the last 6 years or so. I had registered for the half marathon and decided to document my experience for posterity just as I have done with the Bangalore 10k runs here and here during my first two editions.

The Run Up

Nothing much happened by way of disciplined training for the marathon. In the last couple of years, when I haven't run in a competition, I kept myself fit by doing the occasional 10k workout. Specifically, for the Hyderabad Marathon, only two warm up runs are worth mentioning. The first among these was the L&T Serene County run, where I clocked a little under 3 hours on a 27 K circuit. Having never run more than 12 km, I decided to do this one on a lark. I paced myself rather slowly and conservatively, given the uncertainty and my lack of confidence. Finishing this run strong was a welcome revelation that  the 20 Km mark wasn't much of an impediment. The second event was the Historical Hyderabad Run, a great circuit that started at a monument called Taramati Baradari and wound around the foothills of the Golconda Fort before circling back. I timed myself well in the latter half of this run, thanks to a gentleman with a good running watch. I finished the 16K circuit in a little less than 90 minutes, leading me to target the 2 hour mark for the 21 Km half marathon. The icing on the cake with this run was a renowned historian, Anuradha Reddy of INTACH, giving us an enriching walking tour of the Taramati Baradari. This run was organised by Go Heritage Runs, a UNESCO funded initiative that organises runs at historical sites.

Apart from these two events, the only training I underwent was a 5K the day before the half marathon and football/cycling on the weekends to remind my muscles that they could still function.

The Course

The Hyderabad marathon is touted to be India's toughest city marathon owing to the many undulations that its course meanders to. The course passes through Banjara Hills, a locality that lives up to its name. The half marathon course comprises two flyover climbs with a total ascent of 508 m and a descent of 480 m. Needless to say, this was a course to reckon with, where pacing one's self posed significant challenges. Giving in to the bad habits I have picked up at the day job, here are two visuals to give you a better idea.

Race Day

The half marathon was scheduled to begin at 6 AM, with a request to report 45 minutes in advance. An unfortunate circumstance saw us arrive at the start line at a few minutes past 6 AM. While I was unperturbed that the timing chip would factor in the start time, little did I realise that I would miss the bus if I didn't start on time.

For the uninitiated, pacing buses are seasoned long distance runners who volunteer to finish a particular race in a stipulated time for the benefit of people running around them. Each volunteer carries a flag that specifies his expected finish time, and other runners latch on to them as a means of reference very similar to how pilot fish latch on to sharks. I had intended on using the 2 hour bus to set my pace for the course, which is a challenge thanks to the terrain of the course.

The run was to start near the Hussain Sagar Lake. I was hopeful of catching breathtaking glimpses of the lake: a sight that was to inspire me to start strong and to be sustained in my mind's eye as I passed through the more mundane innards of Hyderabad. Instead, all I got was to witness the sweaty backs of about a thousand runners who had started ahead of me owing to a better sense of punctuality. As for aquatic scenery, I had to make do with a gutter running alongside the lake, whose stench was determined to fight a winning battle against my pressing need to inhale deeply.

Exit gutter, enter flyovers. The first one was a breeze thanks to the fresh pair of legs and a general sense of enthusiasm. I made sure that I didn't go way below the 6 min/km mark in order to keep my date with the 2 hour mark. I slowly overtook the three 2:30 buses that were milling in the crowded mass of runners in this section. About 3 Km into the circuit, the crowd thinned out to a comfortable stream of rather evenly paced runners. As I overtook the two chatty 2:15 buses, I was privy to their conversation:

"I thought of locking up my family and coming to the run as they threatened to not let me go. The last time around, they didn't let me go and I had to relent because it was raining."

As we moved into more residential areas, we were met with enthusiastic cheering groups all along the way. There was this old couple who had arranged a couple of chairs outside their home in order to click a well coordinated photo with one of their successors, who spared a moment in the midst of his run. There were also budding rockstars lined up on the side of the road in small stalls, playing their stuff on guitars and such. Entirely heartwarming.

On nearing the 8K mark I hit the wonderful equilibrium that every long distance runner knows so well (what I like to term the indefatigable rhythm). There is something about running together that takes one's body to a whole new level of fitness on the race day. The same pace that hurts like hell and causes muscles in the chest to painfully squirm poses no problems. This effect is compounded by finding a running companion with whom one can mutually pace, leading me to acknowledge that in the long run, it's mostly a mind game (Pardon the cheap pun).

I had settled in on a steady cadence. I usually run without my own music in order to save my equanimity from having to meddle with ill fitting earphones.In order to keep my cadence, I have found that playing a song in my head and using my thumping feet to keep rhythm is very effective. This time around, I was aided by Bombay Jayashree's beautiful OST to The Life of Pi, whose slow 7 beat rhythm is absolutely delightful. Together, the running companion and I set off to find the 2 hour bus.

Steady progress saw me pass through the workplace, after which the surroundings and landmark assumed a sense of welcome familiarity. However, with this familiarity also came the daunting realisation that the last leg of the marathon would be the toughest, as it was a steady climb of about 5 kilometers, with one god forsaken flyover. Having whizzed past these areas on mostly petrol fueled conveyances, running this stretch was extremely draining. To make matters worse, the sun began to peek out of the clouds and the 2 hour bus was nowhere in sight. The silver lining was that I found a companion for this stretch from Nagpur, who was about 15 years my senior. Nothing inspires one better than these fantastic people.

While the last stretch was hard, my running companions had helped me push on and I was poised to finish on the right side of the two hour mark. The circuit finished at the relatively flat whereabouts of the Gachibowli stadium, and I had finished in a little under 2 hours (1:56:52). I never managed to catch the 2 hour pacer, mostly owing to my delayed start, but I'm guessing that it worked to my advantage.


Ironically, I seem most inspired to run after an event like this and not before, when all that training would actually come in handy. I would look to target the 1:45:00 mark, while mulling on whether to run a full marathon this year. I was happy that I had progressed in performance from my two training runs. This would be ensued by the challenge to keep running harder to finish stronger in subsequent events by hopefully sticking to a training schedule.

Road Ramble

"In each shave lies a philosophy", wrote Somerset Maugham and quoted Haruki Murakami. While I couldn't agree more, the same applies for routine driving. During his daily ride to work, a friend developed this tendency to assign names to certain speed-breakers depending on how kind they were to the fissure that seated him on his bike. 

"These humps developed a personality of their own so that I don't lose mine." 

Deep!

The roads have been an inspiring thinking space. I have written about this on two previous occasions. (Here on a bus ride to work and here when this blog was still incipient)

Music and roads compliment each other very well, even in the cacophony that is an Indian street. This applies even better to two wheeler driving. The helmet and the blaring of horns provides a perfectly secluded shell for singing without being sung to. Move over, bathroom singing! 

But rhythm takes the cake as far as the roads go. Especially at traffic signals. Those blinking indicators of two vehicles, with their frequencies differing so subtly, make for delightful observation on how they are seemingly synchronous one moment but are completely out of sync 30 seconds later.

On watching Whiplash, one scene that amazed me was where Fletcher (J.K Simmons) asks the drummer to tap a particular frequency. Yesterday, a realisation that dawned upon me was that nearly anyone can do this with a little effort. How? 

Almost everyone can easily count seconds, and hence to a tempo of 60 BPM. Now, split those intervals evenly and one can easily arrive at multiples (120, 180 etc.). A little math yields other beats like 90 and 150. In case one needs to cross check any time, the countdown at the traffic signal makes for a perfect point of reference. 

I now pronounce the problem of getting caught at an untimely red light solved.

Shades of corruption

A short story based on a real life conversation that I was privy to after an enjoyable run in the park.

The tea leaves floated amidst the boiling water, leaching their flavour into what was to be Kishen Lal's next customer's relief from the numbing cold. A well intentioned, yet miserly old man, the customer haggled over the increase in price of 1 Re for a cup of tea, arguing that a Rupee was all that he paid for an entire glass, with a few pakoras thrown in when he started working in 1966. After finishing the beverage, he asked Kishen how long a gas cylinder lasted. On finding out that it lasted only a week, he proceeded to offer Kishen advice on how he should exchange his gas burner for the stove his wife used at home because a gas cylinder lasted nearly two months that way. The old man further quipped that his consulting talents, from which the world of business could vastly benefit, were wasted on household chores handed down by the wife, whose tone had acquired a new-found sense of authority after his retirement. Kishen politely nodded and waited till the old man was out of earshot before he exchanged a knowing smile with Karim, a fruit seller with whom he shared his kiosk on the footpath.

The city of Delhi had provided Kishen a tough means for survival for over a decade now, since his luck had run out in his home town in Uttar Pradesh. The hope of a better life that had dragged Kishen to this city was exemplified in his various beliefs. He was the migrant, one who exchanges the familiarity and comfort of his village for the opportunity that presents itself in the milling crowds of the city. He picked up that day's newspaper and looked at the headlines. It reminded him that a party positioned as a champion against corruption had defied incredible odds and swept to power in the Delhi assembly. He lifted his eyes from the usually disappointing piece of paper and glanced at Karim with a glint in his eye.

Karim Khan was an old Delhi resident in every sense. His ancestors had inhabited the city for as long as anyone could remember. His family, a mirror of the turmoil and strife that had torn the glorious city apart in the last three centuries, had now befallen difficult times. As he eked out a survival on the footpath, Karim harboured the condescension and cynicism that the old Delhi wala had for the migrant. His sense of arrogance was rooted as much in the city's long standing heritage as it was in the smattering of Urdu poetry that he could dabble in. Karim then noticed Kishen smiling at him.

Kishen said, "Did I not tell you that they would come to power? It is always good to have a sense of optimism. After all, what are we without Hope, the unacknowledged goddess that sustains us all?"

Karim replied, "One government has replaced another. Our lives will continue to be the same. I don't understand what you are happy about."

"But don't you think the people have chosen a new voice? A fresh perspective? Don't you think this is a welcome change after being let down for 60 years?"

"My family has stayed here for the last 500 years. Pardon me, but I don't see anything significant happening in the next five years. Could you name one thing that could change for the better?"

This was easy for Kishen. The wave of public scams of proportions that would never make sense to tea sellers and fruit vendors had rocked the entire country. The new party had risen to prominence riding on the wave of outrage that these scams had sparked in the entire nation. The agenda in the campaign that the new party had most prominently highlighted was to eliminate corruption in the government. He reminded Karim of this promise that had been made.

"What?", Karim said. "Are you of the opinion that voting them in is going to remove corruption? My dear naive migrant, corruption is a die hard habit that is deeply rooted in our very selves. Choosing another name and symbol is not going to change that. The average Dilliwala is corrupt to the bone."

Karim continued, resorting to his artistic side for emphasis, "Corruption is the grease that oils the otherwise painfully slow mechanism that goes by the name of bureaucracy in India. It is this tangled web of corruption that holds this entire country's commercial fabric. Now the fabric and the web are interwoven and inseparable. How can one start a hotel or acquire rights to a plot of land in the absence of a bribe? In fact, is it not ironical that you and I, who are having this conversation on a public footpath after setting up shops on it are in blatant violation of the law of this land?"

Karim ended his sanctimonious tirade with a sardonic smile and looked at Kishen. Kishen bowed his head slightly as a bead of perspiration rolled down his forehead in spite of the wintry weather. What his cynical companion had expressed very bluntly seemed to be the harsh truth. He replied in his characteristically simple words, "I agree. We are all corrupt like the ministers and the industrialists that we read about. I also agree that in its absence, I might have as well perished without hope in a village in UP that nobody has heard of. That is right. I am corrupt. I am corrupt because it is essential for my survival and the one square meal that I eat everyday. However, is there not a distinction between greed and desperation? While arabs of rupees are being pilfered, can you not see that we are corrupt merely to feed our stomachs a couple of rotis after a hard day's toil?"

The heavy silence that ensued was punctuated by the arrival of a traffic constable at the scene.

The Delhi dilemma

The upcoming elections in Delhi promises to be a very exciting contest between two parties (I'm completely discounting any effect that the Congress could have on the outcome).The BJP, on the one hand, seeks to ride the much celebrated Modi wave, while the AAP on the other, intends to obstruct the saffron juggernaut with its promise of transparency and populism. Hence, I chose to mark my return to this blog after what represents an era in blogging chronology to present an objective analysis on what would be a good choice for a prospective voter. The intent behind this analysis is more for enhancing my understanding of the capital's political atmosphere than as a pretension on which is the better voting choice. Your criticism is graciously solicited in the comments below.

Methodology

In order to arrive at a decision, I have chosen four parameters on the basis of which I would assign a score to each of these parties. Further I have assigned different weights to these parameters to arrive at a final score and a decision. I have tried my best to reach an objective decision on how these parties would score in each of these parameters.

The parameters chosen are:

1. Vision - What the party seeks to do in its term: Includes the intentions of the leaders of the party, the manifesto and the various subjects on which the parties have chosen to highlight (Eg: Women's saftey)

2. Experience - What each party's leaders bring to the table on the basis of their past experience in governance and their track record.

3. Team Chemistry - How the team gels in the run up to the elections could be used a fair estimation of how coherently they would function during their term in office. Also, Delhi is a state that is highly dependent on central government. This must be factored in.

4. Transparency - How clean their governance would be whilst in power. A score is arrived at by looking at the manifestos, the issues they highlight during pre-poll speeches and openness with sources of party funding and expenditure.

The weightage attached to each of these parameters is tabulated below:

Parameter	Weight
Vision	30%
Experience	25%
Team Chemistry	25%
Transparency	20%

Scoring

Vision:

The BJP, in recent times, has sought to distance itself from the Hindutva agendas that were a hallmark of its campaigns in the past. They have instead chosen to project the upcoming term as another cog in the wheel of Narendra Modi's mammoth machinery. Their chief ministerial candidate has a track record of being an achiever who has overcome the odds to become the first woman IPS officer and gone on to build a name for herself during her tenure. However, the BJP vision lacks any concrete steps on what it seeks to do in the national capital. The fact that an outsider who has been a fiercely vocal critic of the BJP has assumed the title of its chief ministerial candidate a mere month before the election does not sit very well with a long term vision. The BJP's new-found habit of choosing not to release its election manifesto until the eleventh hour doesn't help its cause at all.
The only instance where the party has elaborated on what it seeks to do in power is captured in what Kiran Bedi calls her 6P agenda for Delhi, albeit very loosely. What the people of the state need are not abstractions, but concrete measures.

The BJP scores 3/10 on its vision.

The AAP has been founded by people who had carved out for themselves successful careers in the public space outside of political intentions. They then chose to give up those careers to be the change their frustrated selves wanted to see in Indian politics. 2 years from their date of founding, they have been on a roller-coaster ride where an unexpected turn of events saw them in power as a part of a weak coalition government only to be maligned after Arvind Kejriwal resigned in a mere 49 days. In recent times, the party has been far more measured in making pre-poll promises and has drifted slowly from transparency to populism in its campaign slogans. The recently released AAP manifesto exemplifies this shift, where plenty of promises have been made without any specific deadlines or the means to explain the government's wherewithal to execute them when in power. However, it is still a start, as most of the intentions seem rightly placed. Some of the promising agendas mentioned in the manifesto include decentralisation of administration to Mohalla Sabhas and Gram Sabhas,  an audit of power and water companies supplying to Delhi and instituting local bodies for enhancing woman safety. With a population of more than 16 million, Delhi is more populous than 11 of India's other states, making the request for full statehood a legitimate one. However, the means to implement these ideas hasn't been spelt out and some sweeping and arbitrary promises, such as making schools and healthcare services on par with the private sector are rather unconvincing. A more detailed breakdown of the manifesto is available here.

The AAP gets 6.5/10 for its vision.

Experience:

With roots that date back to the Bharatiya Jan Sangh, the BJP leadership has plenty of veteran leaders at the centre, with the prime minister at the helm. However, the same cannot be said of the BJP's Delhi unit. Having been out of power for 15 years in the state, the party's struggle to find a chief ministerial candidate saw it resorting to bring in an inexperienced outsider merely a month before the elections. In spite of all these constraints the state unit would definitely benefit from the advice and direction of leaders in the centre. Recent victories across the country has made BJP the party that rules the majority of India's states.

The BJP scores a 6/10 for experience.

Where the BJP lacks in vision, the AAP falls short in experience. Its resignation after 49 days in power and the absence of leaders with political experience leaves the AAP wanting in this criterion. The only consolation that the party has is that many of its senior leaders have served in the public space. This lack of experience is sure to haunt the government in dealing with both the people as well as administrative officials such as bureaucrats and state government employees. In recent times, the party has laid emphasis on its performance in office during its 49 day tenure as the proof of the pudding. The pudding, however, seems half baked at best.

The AAP scores 3/10 for its experience or its sore lack thereof.

Team Chemistry:

An already fractioned segment of the BJP, its Delhi state unit seems torn apart completely after the introduction of Kiran Bedi as the chief ministerial candidate. A lot of clamour has erupted from the rank and file of the party and this discontent has freely spilt into the media exposing the disunity of the BJP camp. Even as I type this out, Bedi's election campaign in charge, Narendra Tandon, has tendered his resignation over differences with her. Kiran Bedi's reputation as a loose cannon and her evident lack of a vision or a plan of action for the state hasn't helped matters with party colleagues having to justify her remarks, which have constantly been attacked by the AAP. In addition to BJP's CM candidate, disillusioned former AAP members who have now joined the party are seen as  opportunists by the party and public. The only saving grace is the party's presence at the centre, which is important for the heavily subsidised state.

The BJP team scores 3/10 for its dismal Team Chemistry.

The AAP has had its share of differences to sift through, with Arvind Kejriwal's leadership style coming under question on several occasions. This has resulted in the exit of high profile members such as Shazia Ilmi and Capt. Gopinath, culminating in a full blown crisis in June 2014, with Kejriwal and Yogendra Yadav falling out with each other. That the party has weathered that crisis and held it together to emerge as a challenger for the Delhi elections seems to indicate that its team chemistry is on the mend, but this sentiment is challenged yet again with its patron Shanti Bhusan seeming to indicate that all the AAP could do with better leadership.

The AAP scores 4/10 for its Team Chemistry

Transparency:

Both the Congress and the BJP had come down for incisive attacks for their lack of transparency and unwillingness to tackle corruption. That the India Against Corruption movement had to do its job in highlighting corruption in the central government does not speak of very highly of its resolve. An Economist article points to how more than 91.3% of the party's campaign funds for the general elections came from unlisted sources. As a long standing player in Indian politics, the BJP knows every trick in the book when it comes to purchasing votes. The party is also fielding the maximum number of candidates with criminal offences against them during this election. However, this measure does not differentiate on the basis of the gravity of the offences the candidates have been booked for. The fact that a crusader against corruption and an officer with a clean reputation leads the charge is the silver lining in the BJP's case.

The BJP scores a 5/10 for its transparency.

While the AAP has been founded on the principles of transparency in governance, a few recent reports seem to indicate their drift towards opportunism on abandoning this pedestal. With 23 tainted candidates in the fray and the candidate with the second largest declared assets, Parmila Tokar, the AAP can no longer be seen as a bastion for transparency. However, the party continues to publicly declare its source of funds on its website. As opposed to its opposition, the AAP has no track record of corruption in public service among its members, ensuring that it has an edge where transparency is concerned.

The AAP scores a 6/10 in terns of transparency.

The Results

In order to ascertain the final score, the individual scores for each criteria are multiplied with the weightage.

The BJP scores   3 x 0.3 + 6 x 0.25 + 3 x 0.25 + 4 x 0.20 = 4.15

The AAP scores  6 x 0.3 + 3 x 0.25 + 4 x 0.25 + 6 x 0.20 = 4.75

It is seen that the AAP wins this analysis by a nose. This whole exercise was pertinent only because I could not separate these parties by much, which is reflected in the results of the analysis. Hence, it became necessary for me to breakdown my assessment objectively and assign weights.

In conclusion, I'm willing to afford the AAP another chance after their first 49 day debacle. It is not as if the BJP has been without its chances in all these years. Besides, Kejriwal has had the courage to own up his mistake publicly, which the country's political class is extremely averse to today. Further, the AAP campaign seems to mirror the clarity and purpose that the BJP government had during the general elections, with "Ab ki baar Modi sarkar" being replaced with "Paanch Saal Kejriwal." While the BJP posters in the Delhi Metro and its roadside hoardings sport the solitary saffron figure of Modi overshadowing everything else (Big Brother anyone?), I'm willing to lay my wager on a fresh perspective in which I can see a bit of my own idealistic tendencies reflected.

The Leak in the Pipeline

A short story I submitted to the FMS college magazine -

Maya held a plastic pot on her head as she precariously walked on the pipe. The pipe spanned across a city drain, about 20 meters wide. The city’s sewage flowed underneath, eclipsed by thick clumps of water hyacinths. Herons waded in the noxious muck, hunting for the creatures that thrive on it. As she alighted from the pipe, there were no onlookers to cheer, whistle and reward her show of daredevilry. Instead, she had harvested a quantum of fresh water, which was sufficient to sustain her family for the next few hours. 

The circular pipeline, with a diameter of 4 feet, carried water from a faraway river to benefit the residents of the city. Ironically, while villagers bordering the river had to walk a few kilometres to harness its life giving liquid, the residents of the city, a hundred kilometres away, could access it with a simple twist of their expensive Jaquar taps. The portion of the pipe that spanned across the gutter had a leaky valve in the middle. The PWD engineers turned a blind eye to the leak; the relative inaccessibility of the spot gave them a convenient excuse. They had mercifully done so for two years now, and enabled Maya, Balwant and their toddler to live off it.

The first few journeys across the pipeline were harrowing. Maya had to leave behind her new-born baby in her tent, at the mercy of the other inhabitants of the pavement: stray dogs, vagabonds and the occasional traffic policeman. She had to carefully balance the pot on her head with one hand while holding her ghagra up shin-high to avoid tripping over it while crossing. The passage of two years had consequently replaced fear with steely courage. Desperation begets bravery.   

Maya was 18 years of age and nursing a new-born baby when she was forced out of her village in Rajasthan, to eke out a living. A few neighbouring families had narrated promising stories of prosperity in the cities of south India. Balwant, accompanied by Maya, had ambled to the railway station, caught the first train that was rumoured to head south, and got off after a couple of days at a railway station that seemed big enough to serve a city. Only by chance did it happen to be Bangalore; landing in Chennai, Hyderabad or Vishakhapatnam would have made no real difference. At least Bangalore’s weather is a shade kinder to the plight of a people who live in tattered tents that line its footpaths.

They managed to get on by selling knick-knacks on the pavement. A formidable variety of helmets, kick scooters, teddy bears and replicas of Venus De Milo made of plaster of Paris greeted passers-by. Their business attracted the attention of the local traffic policeman, who was their biggest source of expenditure. They also had to give him the occasional toy to keep him mollified. The law can be sadistically cruel to people who have been the victims of centuries of lawlessness.

One fine morning, Sharat Chandra happened to chance upon the leaky pipeline on his morning walk. He noticed the steady trickle of pure water drip down to be mixed with the sewage below. Chandra was a well-intentioned elderly gentleman who had recently retired from his occupation. He was now determined to put his newfound time and the little vitality that age had spared him for the cause of the common good. Later that day, he called at the local corporation office and requested to meet the engineer-in-charge. The engineer wasn’t at the office as he had gone to attend to some urgent repairs. The elderly man was met with some or the other excuse on repeated visits to the office, but he was determined. Finally, after hours of waiting, he stood before the engineer. Contrary to what he had expected, the engineer seemed to be a very cheerful and polite man. He gave Chandra a patient listening and was eager to get the leak fixed. He promised to visit the pipeline the following morning at ten ‘o’ clock to inspect the leak and tackle the problem. He explained that he was newly posted in the area and thanked Chandra for bringing the leak to the notice of his office.

The designated hour was at hand. Chandra leaned on his walking stick while staring into the seemingly endless sewage drain. Sure enough, at 10 AM, the engineer, surrounded by a couple of lackeys, strode out of his Ambassador car and shook hands with him. He quickly inspected the trickling pipe from a distance, gave instructions to the two men accompanying him and assured Chandra that the leak would be fixed in a couple of days. Chandra looked at the engineer as the latter strode towards his car with brisk steps and was driven away. The engineer seemed to be an assertive man, who took his job seriously. A quiet sense of satisfaction seemed to fill Chandra.

As he prepared to leave the scene, Chandra glanced at the pipeline and was shocked to find a woman balanced carefully upon it. With measured and confident steps she, proceeded to reach the spot of the leak and hang a pot at the location of the leak. Maya made her way back across the pipeline and saw the elderly man looking at her. Their eyes met for a couple of seconds after which Maya made her way back to her humble tent. Chandra stood at the scene, frozen, as vehicles whizzed by.

The Peacock and the Crane

My trip to Delhi has been eventful to say the least and has provided me with fodder for many a potential blog post  However, I'll choose to mark my return, after a considerable hiatus, with a juxtaposition of two places of worship that I happened to visit.

On querying the string "Places to visit in Delhi" on Google, I found a tripadvisor link that rated Gurudwara Bangla Sahib as No.1, and the Swaminarayan Akshardham temple as No.2 among the places that it recommended. Though the number of reviews received for the Gurudwara were far lower, the overall rating was higher than that earned by the Akshardham complex. I happened to visit both these places in the same order.

Bangla Sahib is snugly accommodated in the very heart of Lutyens' Delhi. It is associated with Guru Har Krishen, the 8th guru of Sikhs, who passed away at the tender age of 7 due to small pox. It is believed that the Gurudwara's tank has healing powers. The Gurudwara is an ancient monument steeped in Sikh tradition.
I found the Gurudwara to be an impressive structure. However, it retained a sense of modesty and simplicity. It had no compound wall and worshippers could enter from all directions. There were no security checks. The only prerequisite was that devotees submit their footwear at a counter, wash their limbs and cover their heads before entering.

The footwear counter is one where anybody can volunteer to serve. It has an open door for one to enter and serve for however long he wishes to. On presenting my footwear, I saw an assortment of people inside who were quite well dressed and appeared well-to-do. These people were cheerfully handling everybody's footwear. The underlying message behind this system hit me like a bolt. It was symbolic of a society where all are equal and no task is menial. It was one of the most beautiful messages I have witnessed at a place of worship. I hold that this is the true purpose of religion. Any religion must serve as a vehicle for social harmony and justice. Also, every facility at the Gurudwara, including the stashing of footwear, was offered free of charge. I could sense no commercial influence in my entire experience there. In my opinion, a place of worship must be free from the influence of commerce as the values of sacrifice and renunciation are the cornerstones of every religion.

I had to miss the langar at the Gurudwara because it was already done for that day. The ceremony of langar is one where the dignity of the person receiving charity is retained, as wisely pointed out by Harsh Mander. Langar also functions as a much needed social leveller that is vastly relevant in a country that is steeped in the erection of barriers on the lines of caste, class, creed and sex. My visit to the Bangla Sahib was an enriching experience and was inspirational because of the subtle, yet powerful message of social equality that Sikhism stands for.

Today, a few days since my visit to the Bangla Sahib, I visited the Akshardaam Temple in Noida. The very first thing that struck me about the temple was its sheer grandeur. The complex was massive and was immaculately maintained. While entry to the temple is free, there are various shows inside the temple which are charged. These charges are quite hefty. The audio-visual display that I opted to witness cost me a neat 170 Rs. The tour started with a robotic tableaux on the life of Guru Swaminarayan, continued with a boat ride that showcased "Life in the vedic times" and ended with an hour-long movie on the life of Ghanshyam, who acquires the name Neelakant and eventually transforms into Swaminarayan Maharaj. The tableaux also featured a preachy section that exhorts mankind to give up meat eating and take up vegetarianism.

The technology employed at each of these shows is state-of-the-art. The tableaux is a triumph of bio mechanics and robotics as the automatons, in spite of  looking a little outlandish, are absolutely lifelike. The boat ride is a celebration of hydraulic engineering, and the movie is shot to perfection. My tour of the temple takes me through a marvellous celebration of modern architecture and how it can be leveraged to construct a temple. That the entire complex was built in 5 years is a staggering achievement. The complex also houses an elaborate food-court with an extensive range in the choice of cuisine offered and these dishes were somewhat expensive.

It is unfortunate that the first thing that struck me during my visit to the Swaminarayan temple, and the only thing that has left in me a lasting impact is not what is being preached, rather loudly, in all these displays. The complex represents to me an ostentatious show of wealth. The temple definitely had a very obvious commercial angle, what with the charges levied on the audio-visual shows, personalised photographs and the food offered. It sought, by virtue of its intimidating might and extravagant display of grandeur, to influence peoples life positively.

The Swaminarayan temple seeks to preach the concept of Sahaj Anand, a state of unending happiness, through its powerful methods. The Bangla Sahib in its simplicity and subtlety, spreads its message of social harmony without any fanfare. While the former is housed in an imposing complex that demands a lot of time and space, the latter is a small compound that is beautiful in its simplicity. While my religion is preached in the former, ironically, I find myself connecting far better with the Gurudwara's message. Another aspect of this exercise lies in the wonderful realisation that our country is one where solace can be sought in a religion outside one's own: the idea of unity in diversity. The idea of India.

(The title of this post is a reference to an Aesop's fable that connects with its central idea)

Farewell Robin, and thanks for all the finishes

Now that the flaring embers that emerged when van Persie called it quits at Arsenal are slowly beginning to cool, I can't help but point out how most fans are poised to offer him a knee-jerk shove off rather than a fitting adieu to a player who most single-handedly kept us in champions league contention and on the right side of the table with regard to Spurs.

 The biggest mistake people make, more so in anger or disappointment, is to equate a difference of opinion to disrespect. Here, a statement saying that a player disagrees with the board of directors doesn't make him a Samir Nasri or an Ashley Cole. Personally, looking at its particular reluctance to sign big names over recent years, I feel that Arsenal is playing amazing football not because of its board, but in spite of it. All credit to Wenger and his staff for being so amazing. Just look at the valuation of players at Arsenal in the market, or their performance in international competitions. Arsenal as a team delivers much more than the sum of its individual players. My views on the Arsenal board's strategy are vindicated here and Robin finds a lot of former Arsenal players agreeing with him here. Notice how they are subtlety critical of the board too.

The biggest bogey that follows the Arsenal approach is the glorious success that the Invincibles brought us in the 2003-04 season. A similar strategy magically culminated in the mushrooming of legends like Bergkamp, Henry, Pires and Ljunberg at Highbury. But that sort of success is rare, considering how we haven't won squat for 7 years now. 7 years during which a player saw himself going from the age of 21 to 28. If that doesn't ring alarm bells, I don't know what will. We lost huge names when Cesc Fabregas and Samir Nasri left last season. We can't replace them with an Arteta, or even Gervinho, and be contented. One season on, which saw us particularly struggling in the defence and the creative midfield, there is still no attempt to bolster these areas.

One standard retort that fans think would justify Arsenal's parsimony over the entire last decade has been the signings of Giourd and Podolski. You don't give a drunkard a clean chit for one day's worth of abstinence. Chronic habits die hard. It will take a lot of good buying to change that image of Arsenal. Besides, our problem areas, our midfield and our defence haven't been addressed. Instead we go ahead and buy two strikers. The discussions at the van Persie vs. Arsenal board meeting must've gone something like this.

v. Persie: You guys haven't made any attempts to replace Cesc and Samir.


Board: We're aware of that. Let us talk about the contract. Shall we?


v. Persie: What about our defence? We conceded 49 times last season. That's 9 more goals than Liverpool at 8th place, and 3 more than Sunderland at 13th. Any new signings to fix that?


Board: Sure! We roped in Podolski and Giourd.

I don't know which "player of the season" would put up with this harebrained board.

All said and done, there is genius that is nurtured at Arsenal season after season. The exit of Henry saw the consummation of a brilliant Fabregas and Nasri. Their exit saw van Persie rise to the occasion. But don't you see a pattern here? Just as players get good enough at Arsenal, they get disillusioned and leave. Their decisions have been justified too, seeing as how Henry has won every title he possibly can and Cesc is riding high on the Barca bandwagon and is sure to win something very soon. Nasri's premier league win gave him a much needed last laugh at a hapless gallery of fans who've learnt to take failure after failure with misplaced hopes that their stars will continue to be loyal to their team. Loyalty is usually accompanied by a reward, which players at Arsenal last saw 8 seasons prior.

As a good friend rightly pointed out, Arsenal fans have responded to van Persie's rejection just as teens do when they break up badly. Here at Arsenal we're hanging on by a thread. We're fortunate to have seen the coming of great players year after year to fill the void left by their predecessors. However, if this continues, there might come a season where this might not happen. The upset of this precarious balance will see Arsenal sink to an abyss which is going to be very hard to crawl out of. When that fateful day dawns, there won't be any great players leaving the club for fans to be mad at; just the pitiful, namesake remnants of a great era, much like the later Mughals.

The stark differences between Hindutva and Hinduism

That the fanatical propagators of the Hindutva menace invoke Hindu pride and heritage to aid their petty arguments has been a constant source of irk. I recently read a well researched book called "Being Different" authored by a startlingly bold thinker called Rajiv Malhotra. Hindutva and Hinduism are actually poles apart. (In this entire post, I refer to Hindutva as the fanatical, extreme right wing movement associated with it in the present day.)

What is ironical is that Hindutva proponents end up mirroring the acts and the agendas of the extremists of other religions, whom they hold out as their adversaries. The Hindutva approach has always been one of fighting fire with fire. They counter aggressive conversion with aggression and violence. They raise the whole façade of "Hinduism in danger" and call all faithful Hindus to arms, in several walks of life, ranging from politics to mindless rioting on streets. Most importantly, the history centric nature of the Hindutva debate really stands out.

History centrism  is a feature that is characteristic of Abrahamic religions. As defined by Malhotra, it is the unwavering and unquestionable faith that is placed on certain historical events, like the resurrection of Christ or Moses' rendezvous with God on Mt Sinai where he was given the ten commandments. History in the traditional Hindu schools has always been a mutable story which can be amended as per the views of the author who chooses to write it. The authenticity of a historical document doesn't play as significant a role in Hindu thought as the relevance of its interpretations to the times in which it is authored. The factual particulars mentioned within these texts are never given any authority. For instance, there are three renowned versions of the Ramayana, authored by the ancient sage Valmiki, the 13th century Tamil poet Kamban and the 16th century bhakti saint Tulsidas who wrote in Awadhi. These versions are so vastly different when considered factually. However, each version was relevant to its time and fit perfectly into the social milieu of its authorship. Which version is more factually correct is entirely irrelevant.

This brings me to the primary bone of contention that the advocates of Hindutva place before the Indian populace: The Ram Mandir issue. Starting from the destruction of the Babri Masjid, moving on to the Gujarat pogrom of 2002 and the 5 years of power that the BJP enjoyed, all of these events hinged upon the manipulation of the sensibilities of the Indian masses using the Ayodhya issue. Ironically, it is entirely irrelevant to the Hindu school of thought as to whether Rama was born in Ayodhya of the present day or if his temple really existed there. Rama, who is held out as the exemplary Uttama Purusha in Hindu tradition, has had to lend his name to revolting organisations such as the Ram Janmabhoomi Nyas.

Hindutva has all the despicable elements to leave true followers of Hinduism shame faced: several irresponsible youth groups, a fanatical body that twiddles the strings of its political party, armed militants and a history of mindless religious violence among several other unspeakable agendas. Hinduism has a history of mutual respect for other religions. Two other dharmic religions have taken birth in the lap of Hinduism without any opposition: Jainism and Buddhism. It has been a faith that is always accommodative of alternate paths to God. Never in the Vedas is it written anywhere that only a specific path leads to Moksha. I've grown up reciting prayers like the one below.

आकाशात् पतितम् तोयम् यथा गच्छति सागरम् ।

सर्वदेव नमस्कारः केशवम् प्रति गच्छति ॥

This prayer roughly translates to "Just as all the water that pours out of the sky ends up flowing into the same ocean, all the obeisances offered to the various gods find their way to the supreme being."

It is this legacy of Hinduism that Hindutva seeks to tarnish. In the face of their aggressive tactics not working, these "Kar-Sevaks" merely resort to more aggression. All this is perpetrated in the name of a religion that doesn't, by any stretch of imagination, lend their arguments any credibility. Hinduism is in danger mostly from the manner in which Hindutva is carried forth in the present day. We will never truly be a free nation until we see the eradication of the Hindutva menace.

ओं शान्ति शान्ति शान्ति हि|

The TCS 10K, Bangalore rerun

Since I was stuck in Namma Bengaluru for yet another year, I decided to give the TCS 10K run another shot. I'll cease to call it a marathon because while a marathon is a mammoth 42.2 km, this run is barely 10. Here's my take on last year's event.

Frequent e-mail reminders ensured that I registered on time and also convinced a friend or two to join. The registration this time around was smooth and didn't remind me of passport applications. The goody bag pick-up, which was strategically located in the midst of a promotional exhibition (again!) went on smoothly as well. This edition's goody bag, while retaining its share of men's cosmetics, wasn't as much of a punching bag. It had a 7 day pass to Gold's Gym! (which I just noticed). The organisers had learnt. They offered to sell me a pass to park at UB city, which I brushed aside, thinking it was unnecessary trouble.

The run up 

Unlike last time, I actually trained for this year's run. I ran for about 20 days of the 40 days that counted down to the race. I could spare only half an hour in the wee hours of the morning for the training and ended up running 5 kilometres on most of these days. I touched the 10 km mark on two consecutive days of a weekend. I didn't measure my time on any of these occasions too seriously but I thought I always clocked in under 50 minutes. My running tracks were more undulating than the race's track which led me to think that I'd do better on the latter. I also happened to read Lance Armstrong’s amazing biography in the days leading up to the run. His biography, titled “It’s not about the bike”, reads really well. It celebrates endurance sport in a manner that is truly inspirational, among other things.

Race day!

I was determined to reach the venue early so that I avoid getting slowed down by the crowding at the start line. I reached the vicinity of Kanteerava stadium half an hour early, but just when I could see the indoor stadium's strange looking dome, our lane was abruptly halted by a cop. An assortment of vehicles, of which I was an integral part, waited patiently for the traffic police to signal it through. Seconds turned into minutes and quiet waiting gave way to the blaring of impatient horns, which the traffic cop handled nonchalantly, seeing as how his profession involves the cultivation of a skin that is at least as thick as that of a well fed water-buffalo. Most faces around sported a look of bewilderment laced with disbelief at their 7:30 AM Sunday drive being so rudely interrupted with no sign of resumption. Only when somebody walked up to the cop did we realise that we had to wait for a political convoy to pass. On realising this, most people resigned to their fate and stopped honking. Everyone in our country is forced to grow water-buffalo skins one way or the other.

On finding a parking space at the Bangalore City Corporation Office, which was strangely empty, my decision to not buy that parking chit was completely vindicated (or so I thought). I jogged to the nearest gate of the stadium while dodging traffic to find a volunteer keenly scrutinising our running bibs. He looked at mine and pointed to a tiny little ‘B’ written in the corner. “Kindly go to Gate-B near Mallya hospital. You’re already late,” he informed. I finally made my way to Gate-B having run a kilometre already! On the bright side, this exercise served as warm up.

The gates were opened in an orderly fashion this time. Luckily for me, gate B opened rather early. In spite of the organisers limiting registration this year, the start line ended up reminding me of an Indian pilgrimage site. The funnel design for the running track was still in vogue and people did end up walking barely 100m after the start line because of crowding. The first kilometre of my race saw me rushing ahead, pushing hard just so that I can get past the sizable mass, which had assembled there that morning just to wave at the television cameras. I kept telling myself that an initial push would serve me well just so that I can get past this chaotic mass, replete with abrupt collisions that some scientist watching overhead could have used to model Brownian motion.

A board nearby announced that I had crossed one kilometre and I could see pockets of space opening up. I was now left running with all the people who had surged past the crowd and were now leading the race. I then proceeded to continue, keeping pace with those around me. I gulped down a glass of Gatorade, which wasn’t mixed properly. I ran alongside this person wearing a T-shirt that claimed he was from the Territorial Army. After a while, he slowed down a little and I surged ahead, looking for other people to run alongside with. I thought I was doing great!

The 4.5 kilometre mark was past and I suddenly started wearing. I pushed on for half a kilometre more and halted at a water point. I drank a little off the bottle and slowed down. There was a niggling pain in my chest that had never been so assertive during my training. The worst part about this pain is that even if I slowed down, it increased, until I had to walk a few paces. Mr Territorial Army man and a host of others I had swaggered past caught up with me and left me far behind. My head was a filled with a sense of bewilderment and disappointment. I thought I’d finish far behind last year’s time, after training so much more. I had done the unthinkable in a long distance race, twice! I walked. The water that I drank earlier was churning in my stomach, sending up burps to rudely interrupt my panting. I had bonked out as Lance Armstrong would call it. 

I convinced myself to salvage whatever I could from the race and slowly pushed on. I started jogging and building up my rhythm, while analysing what could’ve gone wrong. Was it because of the sun’s presence? Was it because I pushed too hard while keeping up with much fitter people? The kilometres ticked away very slowly. I just crossed a board saying 7 km were up.

When I proceeded to the 8^th kilometre, my rhythm was back and my chest pain was gone. A flood of reason came rushing in. I had tired so quickly because of all those 5 km training runs. My body automatically slipped into a pace where I’d be exhausted at the end of 5 km. This, coupled with the other factors that I mentioned before, did me in just after the 5 km mark. After a brief period of rest, I was fine. It was time to finish this race strong. There were people all along the race track cheering runners on with banners like: “After the pain goes away, only the pride remains.” Each time we runners thanked these people, they cheered a little louder, giving us much needed encouragement and little bursts of adrenalin. After the 9 km mark, I picked up pace steadily. With 500 m left, I was sprinting ahead, screaming to myself to get the adrenalin pumping. I finished the last bit of the race strong and checked my watch. I had finished in about 49 min (49:09), which was a huge relief. I missed the quarter of an hour mark by a really long shot, but was better than last year’s 51:44. Any endurance competition is a race against your own self, and every minute gained counts. I finished the race a full 500 m ahead of last year's performance, considering average speed.

The aftermath

On the other side of the finish line, I saw all the people who had done better than me. A man who looked at least 60 years old had finished in 45 min! I respectfully shook his hand, humbled thoroughly. I also congratulated Mr Territorial Army man. Finishing among the front runners (if I could call them that) is a much more humbling experience than it would appear. After the pain goes away, you are left with something much more valuable than pride: humility.   

I slowly ambled back to my two wheeler which I presumed was safely inside the Corporation Office. To my dismay, I saw that it was a little too safe! All the gates to that building were closed, locked and manned by security guards. I asked one of them how I could get out. He told me to try the other gate, though he was wholly pessimistic of my chances. I almost regretted not having purchased that parking pass. I slowly rode to the other gate and on seeing me, the guard manning it saluted. I duly saluted back, which brought upon his face a big smile that reminded me of a child whose relative had just given him a bagful of foreign chocolates! He swung the gate open and I was off. 

I have consistently painted a rosy picture of this event’s organisation thus far. However, when I returned that afternoon to have lunch in the whereabouts of the running track, I noticed that there was a lot of trash left behind on the streets. This was extremely disappointing. Even while organising such enriching events, the corporate world doesn’t think twice before taking its dump on the city’s already weak civic infrastructure. May our buffalo skins grow ever thicker.

I have realised that running is something I should practice around the year rather than the month before these events. When you run at an optimal speed, your body expends as much energy as it can continuously produce, letting you run on and on without tiring. I like to call this wonderful phenomenon The Indefatigable Rhythm. I never feel more alive than when I hit this rhythm. Running in the mornings also ensures that one stays amazingly vital for the remainder of the day. I was also untouched by the usual bouts of sneezing or the running nose that Bangalore keeps giving me. I have decided to intersperse running, cycling and yoga into an exercise schedule that I should follow. Let us see how that shapes up.

  

The story of Rushdie's non arrival

The Events

Jan 4th, 2012: Word is out that Salman Rushdie has been invited to the Jaipur Literature Festival, an annual event that has grown by leaps and bounds in its popularity since its inception in 2006.  

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-01-04/books/30588541_1_salman-rushdie-midnight-s-children-jaipur-literature-festival

Islamic groups across India protest his invitation to the festival and demand that he not set foot on Indian soil. Apparently, a ban on his "blasphemous" book in a country  that believes itself to be secular and also in free speech, just wasn't enough. On confrontation with these facts, they cite the American Govt's act of cancelling Narendra Modi's US visa as exemplary. (Yes. They'd like to equate the Gujarat pogrom to the writing of Satanic Verses.)

Jan 19th, 2012 (Thursday): Islamic groups that were planning major protests on Friday, the 20th of Jan, to coincide with the festival's opening, announce that these protests are cancelled. The reason: A Congress MP from Jaipur's assurance that Mr Rushdie would be kept away throughout the festival period.   

http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/article2816193.ece

Jan 20th, 2012 (Friday): Rushdie announces the cancellation of his visit to India citing rumours of paid underworld assassins set loose after his life. Livid authors at the festival start reading out from Satic Verses, his book that has been banned in India.

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/satanic-verses-read-at-jaipur-literature-festival/222731-40-103.html

The Congress spokesperson Abhishek Manu Singhvi issued the following statement: "If an individual author feels threatened about his own security, I think you and I must all respect his right not to take chances with his own life and liberty."

Cited from the video on this link. http://www.ndtv.com/article/india/salman-rushdie-skips-jaipur-literature-festival-says-he-was-warned-of-paid-assassins-168919

Mr Singhvi makes this statement in an attempt to sound like a magnanimous person respecting the rights of an individual's concern for safety. However, he conveniently fails to highlight that his government, whose duty it is to snub these Islamic extremists and ensure Rushdie's safety (and liberty!), has pitifully failed to do so.  

Summing Up

On the surface, the government tries to assure its citizens that it did nothing to prevent Mr Rushdie's arrival and that the author's decision not to arrive in India was his own, trying to score points on how it is being large minded in respecting that decision. 

Beneath the surface, the Congress tells the protesting Islamic groups that it has successfully prevented the arrival of the blasphemer, Salman Rushdie, on Indian soil. (Sure to be used for brownie points in election rallies.) 

News on Indian Television: Endangered Species

All through my life, I've been hard-wired to switch on the television at 9 PM and spend the next half an hour looking at the news. Each day spent without completing this ritual would feel a little incomplete. Off late, however, I've been steadily losing interest in the 9 o'clock news so much so that it even repels me on some days.

The reason: televised debates hosted either by incompetent anchors or by blatant bullies whose only motives are to throw their weight and their opinions around these debates. Debates you say? Opinions? Weren't we just talking about the news? Well, the boundaries between news and opinions have completely dissolved in the world of Indian news channels. And what's more? These debates sorely lack any intelligent quality. They are just shout-offs where the panellist with the mightier voice always has the last word (However, on Times Now, Arnab always does).

The country we live in is mighty large. There is enough news to report in any one of our cities to sustain whole news channels and newspapers. There is clearly no dearth of good material that wants reporting. Instead, must we spend 25 out of our precious 30 news minutes watching a discussion on whether the Govt of India's ego is bigger than its chief of army staff or whether the seniors in the Indian cricket team are mollycoddled? (Yes. Arnab, who makes no bones about expressing his passionate take on every news item, does think so.)

The root cause of this affliction is the average Indian's love for melodrama. It is as if everything on television that is worth watching must resemble a Saans Bahu soap opera. Even news! In the absence of any other examples, the success story of TV9 alone is a major facepalm moment for the Indian television audience. It is as if we have a penchant for having our intelligence insulted.

I hold that the last bastion of good reporting in India is the existence of newspapers like The Hindu. The content published in a newspaper is a subjective matter and varies with the taste of the reader. However, the style of reporting and the professionalism that goes into it can be put more easily to judgement. The firm stance that the editors of The Hindu have taken on how its content is to be published is inspirational. Rather than bow down to an abyss by catering to the baser tendencies of the masses, they've maintained a calibre that has given them a faithful niche of unswervingly loyal readers. Niche markets are clearly the way forward in services that cater to a large section of any population. Only that way you can ensure that not too many people outside of the majority are left out. Whether it be music, books or other hobbies, I always find myself outside the circles that are crowded with the vast Indian majority. However, niche markets in all these domains have ensured that I'm not left out.

Televised news needs a channel that is dedicated to good, neutral reportage, rather than sinking to whatever depths the thirst for popularity drags it down to. The Hindu could probably start its own news channel. I am tired of scripted melodramas being passed off as news. We need a channel that doesn't look at every incident as an opportunity to gain TRPs and subsequently make a killing in the advertising market.

Unconstitutional?

There has been a lot of outrage on the part of the intellectuals of this country that the present India Against Corruption movement has been unconstitutional. However, as a friend rightly pointed out,

 "There are many political parties that conduct bandhs, hartals, dharnas, padayatras and what not on a regular basis. Offices are shut down, stones are pelted at buses, tyres are burnt. Anyone who goes on the streets are wounded too. However, the same political parties say that a peaceful, non-violent, non-disruptive, perfectly legal protest is undemocratic?"

The Constitution of India is the supreme law of India, whose principles are to be followed for framing of laws, policies, granting of rights, and the functioning of the state. Like any other legal document, it can prove quite hard to read. The principles enshrined, however, are simpler to understand. Only the intellectual population of the country pays heed to even these. Hence, only a very small population of the country actually knows what is constitutional and what is unconstitutional.

Having read the speeches that Dr BR Ambedkar made on drafting of the constitution, I know that he would have surely struck down this protest as unconstitutional. I agree. This protest has been unconstitutional. However, let me tell you that if Dr Ambedkar were alive today, he would have been baffled enough at the rampant corruption that the parliament is responsible for today to immediately recommend some amendments to curtail the powers that the Legislature possess.

The legislature towers high above any other institution in this country. They seem to be able to call all the shots at present: How to obtain arrests of anybody (by using the Delhi Police as a scapegoat) in case anything goes wrong? How many Jan Lokpal bills to consider?  Whether they should present bills to the standing committee? Whether the bill should undergo the process of voting in the parliament at all? (Whoa!)

I'd say that any constitution that has allowed for the parliament to thrive in such unfettered corruption definitely needs a re-look. (There! I've uttered a blasphemy). I'm sure that the founding fathers of the country would never have, even in their wildest dreams, envisaged the  whole sale sell out of the country that is happening today. Why, A Raja might have made only a few hundred crores out of the deal, but has cost the country a potential whopping 1.76 lakh crores. Ethics apart, costing the country so dearly for making only a fraction of that cost is bad business!

We need laws to reign in the MPs today. The constitution has been amended in their favour so much so that they are the ultimate authority in this country. The laws against corruption, and their punishments are so ridiculous, particularly in light of the powers that MPs have. Also, these laws are so replete with loopholes that one can slither his way out easily with the legal expertise that the ministers have at hand, what with many of them being lawyers themselves.

The people on the streets have seen this happening time and again. They know that any political party that comes into power in steeped in the same systemic corruption. They do not care about the word of the constitution at this point of time. They just see that the country is being looted and want changes now! In their anger, they aren't ready to wait for a decade for palpable change to happen. Hence, they jump the gun on many occasions and demand the passage of their bill outright. It is true that anger clouds our ability to make the best decisions. It is also true that for this anger, the politicians are to blame and they are now facing the music.

As Arvind Khejriwal pointed out, intellectuals abound in the country, who think about how to proceed on every matter and are quick in their criticism of anything that goes against the grain of the many principles they hold dear. However, the vast numbers of people in this country operate on something much more basic: Common Sense. They don't want to hear your explanations of what is constitutional and what is not. They want corruption rooted out, and they want it now. The intellectuals are very relevant though. They keep checks and balances in the system so that things don't get out of hand. This movement has been a refreshing attempt at a correction of the Indian democracy. Rather than saying that Indian democracy is being threatened, it is good to see it thriving as ever.

What makes people lose faith in the democratic process?

India is a participatory democracy where people have a say in who is ruling over them. Democracy is India's biggest boon, and in my opinion, the prime reason why we haven't broken up into separate states like Europe, since independence.

The best (and only) suggestion that critics of the current anti-corruption protests provide is for people to use elections to tackle corruption. However, the protesters seem to be exasperated at this democratic system's failure. Why are they on the streets? What makes the democratic process fail?

Let us start off with a young voter of this country who wishes to do it good. He isn't a walking, talking archive of The Hindu  but he is far better informed than the huge masses who are transported in truckloads to voting booths. He can vote at the assembly level and the Lok Sabha level. But let us look at whom he can vote for. He has a choice between the two central parties, both of whom are steeped in the same corruption and malpractices. On voting for an independent candidate, he realises that his candidate will either not even cross the minimum number of votes required to collect his election deposit, or will side with one of the two 'national' parties. On voting for a state level party, he'll realise that he is playing into the hands of regionalists who are increasingly resorting to dirty, caste based politics. These regional parties also hold the trump cards in today's coalition governments and demand that they get ministerial berths out of which they can make the most money out of. ( viz. A Raja's telecom ministry)

The system is neck deep in filth. He compares it to vibrant democracies in the west where any spot of dirt on the candidates makes them liable for impeachment and unspeakable humiliation. He is now rendered speechless with humiliation at his country's netas. The parliament's first Lokpal draft dates back to 1968. His politicians haven't agreed on passing that bill for 43 years and counting. How could even the brightest optimist still harbour any hopes in the parliament?

Why not contest elections? If he wished to join either of the big parties, his purpose is defeated. Besides, there is the huge contribution he'll have to make to the party coffers for his entry. If he contests as an independent candidate... Oh wait! He already knows the fate of those naive independents.

The civil service! That is surely the panacea to his angst and eagerness to do good for the country. So he goes about exploring that option. Well, there is the rest of the young people in the country to compete with. As the civil services are highly coveted, the entire mass of India's huge and burgeoning population adds to the weight of this competition and he is faced with lakhs of competitors, vying for a few hundred posts. This also demands intricate knowledge of the country among a whole lot of other things. Only graduates can apply. After rigorous selection processes that run into the best part of a year, these hallowed people are selected to serve the masses. But wait. They are selected to serve the masses under the thumb of their neta who might not have even passed second standard! The neta is sure to transfer them if they try to do anything good against his vested interests. There is also this tradition among IAS officers to spend a huge amount of money on coaching classes and attempt at making solid returns on investment once they are in power.

The legislature and the bureaucracy are pretty much closed doors to this citizen. The judiciary is so swamped with cases to be heard that he has very bleak hope there. The legislature, with its passing of 17 bills in 12 mins, including amendments to the Prevention of Corruption Act, has also substantially weakened the judiciary's hold on it. Now that the supreme court is interfering with their dirty affairs time and again, they are going to threaten it with a judicial accountability bill. I rest my case.

The gentleman whose example has been taken in this post is mostly from the middle class. The poor are too busy making their 30 rupees per day to worry about these things. The rich aren't bothered to find out how their agent obtains their driving license. As long as he delivers it to them, they are happy. So how then does this young, middle class voter, bubbling with enthusiasm to be a part of the change and redress his grievances against systemic corruption that he encounters everywhere, from getting his birth certificate made to getting a cremation done and a death certificate obtained?

He waits for an Anna Hazare to come along. He doesn't even bother to find out the merits and demerits of the proposed bill, but plunges headlong at anything that helps him channel his anger against the corrupt politicians he so loathes. The majority of people at the rallies today don't even know what the Jan Lokpal bill does or how it proposes to root out corruption. They have lost faith in the politicians to such a grave extent that they go by the saying "An enemy of my enemy is my friend."

My Vegetarian Roots

It has always been the hallmark of human civilisation to care for those who are less capable, less fortunate and less powerful. The word 'humane' stands testimony to that fact. A humanitarian is one who partakes in, and shares the burden of those around him. As we become more and more civilised, this fact is always reinforced in stronger terms.

Coloured people, who have endured white supremacy for ages are now respected for who they are, so much so that doing or saying anything that would remotely hint otherwise is seen as taboo. Women, having been treated as the weaker sex through the centuries, are now recognised to be equal to men and the number of instances where they are being oppressed is steadily reducing world over, more so in the developed world. People who were historically seen to be handicapped, invalid and retarded are now being seen as differently abled and special people. The champions of these causes have always been held as examples for humankind to emulate.

The reason for change in this direction is the ever increasing ability to choose, that has resulted as a consequence of our progress. The desperate thief, who in his need cannot afford to be compassionate to those who he steals from, doesn't have a choice. But on progressing as a race, our choices have ever been on the increase. Earlier, we all had to roam about, foraging, hunting and living off the land. Today, the choices we have on both, making a living and consuming for living, are unlimited in their variety.

Which brings me to vegetarianism. Very frequently have the people around me put forth the question as to why I do not consume meat, so much so that they sympathise with my having to forgo the often pleasurable experiences that accompany its consumption. I never had a clear answer to that question. I somehow managed to shrug it off by saying that it was an inherent tendency.

It is not that I've never tasted meat. I've consumed enough of it in the days of early childhood. I can even vaguely remember what it tastes like. However, even as a little child, I had been shocked to learn about how silk was extracted by boiling silkworm cocoons and had told my parents categorically that I was never going to be wearing any silk all my life. One morning, when I was probably in Std 5, I attended a birthday party where I decided not to eat the cake that was on offer for its containing egg, even though I have always been very fond of cake. This was the beginning of my life as a vegetarian. On introspection, it becomes amply clear that this choice is based on an inclination towards non violence, followed by the development of a rationale that reinforces this inclination. Also, I've been born in a race, I'm proud to say, is known for having advocated vegetarianism centuries ahead of anywhere else world over. In this aspect, I deem that we are an advanced race indeed.

I'm not one of those who is for strongly enforcing vegetarianism (at times this is done even violently), for such an act would defeat the entire purpose of being vegetarian. Unlike plants, we cannot produce our own food and have to rely on the consumption of other forms of life for our living. But unlike carnivores, who cannot but eat meat, we have the power to choose what we eat. I just choose to do it in a manner as to cause a lesser amount of pain to things around me.

"What pain?," one might ask. "Animals are slaughtered with one flourish of the knife so that they don't feel pain at all."

Well, have we really thought about the conditions in which they are bred and subsequently slaughtered for our pleasure? Do we not see how chickens are cooped up in poultry farms, so much so that their coops lend to us the phrase? Don't we see them being transported, strung up mercilessly by their leg, upside down and slung across scooter seats? A lamb being led to slaughter. Butchered mercilessly. Dead meat. The phrases that turn to animal slaughter for expressing savagery are endless. Even the word massacre has its roots in butchery. These words arise from western civilisation which is only just exploring vegetarianism.

There is another school of thought that holds, very naively I must say, that if we all became vegetarians, this world would be flooded with animals and that we'd all starve to death because we'd run out of plant based food. The amount of grain and feed that goes into making meat is mind boggling. Animals could live off pastures and not consume any grain, but the lack of pastoral land and the difficulties associated with adopting that approach are formidable. It takes 16 kilos of grain to produce 1 kilo of meat. It takes nearly 1000 times the amount of water to produce one Kg of meat as opposed to wheat. Between May 2000 and August 2006, Brazil lost nearly 150, sq km of forest, an area larger than Greece, 70% of this going to cultivate soya beans to be fed to a burgeoning pig cultivation market in China. There are many more staggering facts that one can discover with a very simple search string online. In effect, the production of meat is proving so wasteful that a day might come where we are all forced to turn vegetarian. A love for nature goes very much hand in hand with vegetarianism.

But these are just facts to silence ill informed critics. The essence of vegetarianism, for me, stems out of the inherent disposition to live and let live, that has guided human civilisation ever since man ventured outside of his cave. As I question my stand, it only becomes clearer to me that it is one that I will always adopt. The variety offered by vegetarian food, seen better in India than anywhere else, is abundant. Though one can point out that it can only increase when you include meat, I'm wholly satisfied with what it has on offer, for a lifetime's worth.

A few truths about the Jan Lokpal

In all this squabble over whether the Jan Lokpal is a panacea to a corruption ridden nation or a looming apocalypse, I thought I'd do some actual research before having anything more to say.

I'd posted in support of the movement here, without saying too much about the bill itself.

Yesterday, I attended a public question and answer session with Justice Santosh Hegde organised by The Hindu. Justice Santosh Hegde, whose track record on fighting corruption speaks for itself, has served as a lawyer, the Advocate General for Karnataka, the Additional Solicitor General and a Supreme Court Judge. He was instrumental in preparing the Jan Lokpal draft. He came across as an incisive and knowledgeable stalwart in the practice of the law.

Today, I spent half my Sunday reading the bill in its entirety and also looked up some of the other acts that it often referred to. The bill can be found here.

Why the bill is required would be obvious to everyone but the completely oblivious. Anyway, just to present a taste of how our country is run, here is something you might want to chew on.

India has over 1456 Billion USD stashed away as black money in Swiss banks. This was according to a declaration made by the Swiss government. Here's the dubious top five list.

1. India—– $1,456 billion 2. Russia —-$ 470 billion 3. UK ——-$390 billion 4.Ukraine – –$100 billion 5. China —–$ 96 billion

The Indian total is far greater than the sum of the other four countries. But hold on. Figures as large as those don't make sense without some perspective. $1,456 billion translates to Rs 65,520 billion. The order of magnitude here is 13. 6.5 raised to the 13th power of 10. This happens to exceed the entire revenue budgetary requirement for the year 2010-11 by 5 times. And this is just the Swiss black money issue.

The four other countries have promptly transferred this wealth back to their shores. Our government is still consulting its lawyers.

I'll look at only those parts of the draft that have come under rather heavy criticism.

1. The Rogue Pal charge

Under the apprehension that the Lokpal could turn renegade, a few critics have bestowed upon it astronomical powers akin to those who run parallel governments.

The Jan Lokpal cannot mete out punishment, contrary to popular belief. It is merely an investigative body and can at the most submit its findings to a special court, whose judgement can be challenged in a High court or the Supreme court of the country. Hence, the Lokpal is answerable to these courts with regard to all its actions during the prosecution.

Article 29.7 states

"Appeal against the orders of Lokpal shall lie in High Court of appropriate jurisdiction, which shall decide the matter within two months of filing of the appeal."

Now let's turn our attention to Section 17.2

"Nothing in this Act shall be construed as authorising the Lokpal to investigate any action which is taken by or with the approval of the Presiding Officer of either House of Parliament."

which categorically strips the Lokpal of investigating any executive action whose approval is sought from the leaders of the parliament houses.

The Lokpal has been bestowed with police powers in only specific sections of the Criminal Procedure Code and the Prevention of Corruption Act. This power is granted to any wing of vigilance that functions in the country including the CBI and the CVC.

2. Its far reaching judicial powers

Article 10.2 highlights the judicial powers of the Lokpal.

"For the purpose of any such investigation (including the preliminary inquiry) the Lokpal shall have all the powers of a civil court while trying a suit under the Code of Civil Procedure, 1908 , in respect of the following matters, namely:-

(a) Summoning and enforcing the attendance of any person and examining him on oath;

(b) Requiring the discovery and production of any document;

(c) Receiving evidence on affidavits;

(d) Requisitioning any public record or copy thereof from any court or office ;

(e) Issuing commissions for the examination of witnesses or documents ;

(f) ordering payment of compensatory cost in respect of a false or vexatious claim or defence;

(g) ordering cost for causing delay;

(h) Such other matters as may be prescribed."

Simply put, the Lokpal has the right to examine any evidence or subject the accused to questioning in the event of an investigation. Clearly, the points above do not exceed those that are required for any investigative agency to function. Anyone who claims that the Lokpal has far reaching judicial powers is just as far from the truth.

3. The dubious and arbitrary selection committee

Well, the proposed selection panel consists of

a. The Chairpersons of both Houses of Parliament

b. Two senior most judges of Supreme Court

c. Two senior most Chief Justices of High Courts.

d. All Nobel Laureates of Indian Origin

e. Chairperson of National Human Rights Commission

f. Last two Magsaysay Award winners of Indian origin

g. Comptroller and Auditor General of India

h. Chief Election Commissioner

i. Bharat Ratna Award winners

j. After the first set of selection process, the outgoing members and Chairperson of Lokpal.

Where the senior-most judge of Supreme Court shall act as the Chairperson of the selection committee.

Here,

a. represents the political faction. b. and c. comprise of the higher judiciary. e., g. and h. represent the bureaucracy and civil society representation is present at the other posts. This keeps a healthy balance in place where people from all walks of life participate.

Why are some people against representation from civil society? Aren't 12 members of the Rajya Sabha nominated from the same civil society?

The only thing that escapes my logic here is the inclusion of Nobel Prize and Bharat Ratna awardees. These awards are not given particularly for social service. But I'm sure that these details will be ironed out in a detailed draft.

The selection isn't as "ad-hoc" as the critics thought.

Here is the Government's proposed selection committee:

1. Prime Minister

2. Speaker of the Rajya Sabha

3. Leader of the Opposition

4. One Judge

5. One nominee of the Prime Minister

This selection committee can easily undermine any anti corruption bill in its very inception.

4. Unelected people have no say in how this country is run.

Yes. They don't. But neither does the Lokpal. They are merely an investigative organisation. If they shouldn't exist, neither should the CBI, CVC, CAG, Election Commission or the President of India. (Remember Abdul Kalam for instance? He was from civil society)

5. The Prime Minister shouldn't fall within the Lokpal's ambit..

.. for a host of reasons ranging from regional instability to the sale of defence secrets to foreign powers, they say. The Indian Penal code, drafted in 1860 by Lord Macaulay, and continued by the Indian government ever since we became a Republic, holds any government official including the Prime minister answerable to the laws stated there in. Why should we now make an exception? The same argument holds for judges in the higher judiciary.

This aside, the Lokpal has made provision for the PM to be excluded from the law in section 18.6 and 18.9.

18.6

" If during the course of investigation or enquiry into a complaint, Lokpal feels that continuance of a public servant in that position could adversely affect the course of investigations or enquiry or that the said person is likely to impact evidence or witnesses, the Lokpal may issue appropriate orders including transfer of that public servant from that position or his suspension.

Provided that such orders shall not be passed against the Prime Minister."

This is obviously framed keeping in mind that dismissal of the Prime Minister cannot be made easily by the Lokpal.

18.9

"Where after investigation into a complaint, the Lokpal is satisfied that the complaint involving an allegation against the public servant, other than the Ministers, Members of Parliament and judges, is substantiated and that the public servant concerned should not continue to hold the post held by him, the Lokpal shall pass orders to that effect. In case of public servant being a Minister or a Member of Parliament, Lokpal shall make such recommendation to the President, who shall decide either to accept such recommendation or reject it within a month of its receipt.

Provided that the provisions of this section shall not apply to the Prime Minister."

The clauses above are built for preventing bureaucrats and government officials from tampering with evidence against them from their position of power. 18.9 exempts all ministers and judges from its ambit and submits that decision to the president. Strangely, the media doesn't highlight these points to us. I doubt if the media has read the original draft at all!

Prime ministers have died in office without issue of prior notice in the past. Governments have fallen in no confidence motions several times. Interim prime ministers and acting prime ministers have stepped in without there being any threat to the regional stability of our diverse country.

And why must our national secrets be divulged to the Lokpal in any case? They are an investigative agency, and not the Indian equivalent of the ISI. These are just issues that are built to divert people's attention and dilute their support.

The investigative bodies today and the Prevention of Corruption Act are framed such that they fall under the ruling government's thumb completely and are hence not adequate in today's degenerate times. We can't blame the leaders of yesterday for making these policies as they, in their wildest imagination, couldn't have envisioned the evils that haunt the Indian Government today. That is why this movement is required in the first place. 1.76 Lakh Crores has 12 significant zeros.

I've gathered from the interaction with Justice Santosh Hegde the moment when he lost complete trust in the legislature. To quote his exact words in an interview to Tehelka,

"We expect our leaders to do their jobs, but I for one lost trust when on 23 December 2008, the Parliament passed 17 Bills in 12 minutes, without any discussion whatsoever. It included amendments to an anti-corruption law. Three sections of the Prevention of Corruption Act were removed, and only civil society prevented the Bill from going to the Rajya Sabha. After this, how can they say it’s my prerogative, stay away?"

How's that for an eye opener? Do we expect these minds to engage corruption at any level?

In light of the times we live in, the need for a strong ombudsman can never be stated enough. I was pleased to read today that in the all party meeting, most parties seem to be in agreement with this. The majority has also voiced its support for the inclusion of the PM under the Lokpal. However, their words are only token promises, as is my happiness ephemeral on seeing them.

This is why the movement needs our support. This is why Kapil Sibal shows up every night trying to denigrate this bill to its very foundations, because it threatens the solid foundation of corruption that they've spent generations laying and earthquake proofing by passing 17 bills in 12 minutes. And all those skeptics and apocalypse prophets trying to join him in his allegations are misinformed armchair professors at the least and dangerous agents of the government at the most.

Everyday, the TV is blaring with the same mundane debates where politicians, both from the Government and the opposition, engage in mudslinging. The media is out there to compete with tele-serials for ratings rather than give the nation the information it needs.

We must do whatever we can to see this bill passed. We can't afford to lose having come so far.