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WHAT IS WRONG WITH US?
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Can you be morally correct when you are drunk?
Now Playing: Cans of beer
Topic: And is a spade a shovel?

“There are various ways of looking at it”, said a friend who had recently become the Asia-Pacific chief of the world’s second largest investment firm. He shifted from his New York office to BKC, much to the chagrin of his wife. But his trepidation didn’t end there. The brazen sweet-heart deals across real estate sector, Indian bureaucracy and its attendant cost and the kick-backs while buying office equipment in private companies stun him. Need to say here that his insight into the world of glitz and glory are beyond reproach. When watching the footage of P.R. Swarup’s address at the North India Offices 2010-12 conference organised by Property World in Delhi, he exulted in disbelief. Swarup, who was the chief guest at our conference, said in his inimitable way that government and Planning Commission figures are usual a matter of theatrics.

 What an office clerk presupposes as Rs10,000 would rise to $1-trillion by the time the estimates reach the Prime Minister.“The bureaucrats don’t understand that there can be a flip side to the story. When the government estimates $1-trillion to flow in by way of investments, from domestic as well as foreign direct investors, the spin-off effect on the economy can be humungous”, my friend said leaning back on his swivel chair. I kept munching the chapattis from his lunch box in mute acquiescence.

“Don’t you understand the government should never be taken at its word? The figures are all a matter of indication; if the same was done by E&Y or McKinsey the real figures would have come out. The government is always given to underplaying the causes as well as the effects”, my friend explained without prompting. “I am getting the drift”, I said again, just to let the conversation flow. “But why don’t people, especially the bureaucrats realize that there is going to be stupendous growth and economic activity directly related to these investments around the country. The aggregate investments and the growth in industrial activity around the infrastructure projects of $1-trillion would anywhere be about $4-5-trillion”.I looked at my friend agape. “That’s so bloody true”, I said adding, “and this kind of money is easy to raise from international players”. The debate went on, with me using all my professional acumen to keep it on even keel.

The evening ended with ice cubes in Budweiser at a pub near Kala Nagar.Two days later I took off with my friend from Schindler elevators for a drive through the old Mumbai-Pune highway. He has a rickety old Fiat Uno, which by comfort levels can compare with a Mercedes. But the ten year-old car had a telling effect on the ride through the tortuous and winding road that once was known for its day-long traffic jams. When we reached a place some ten kilometers away from Lonavla he swerved the car into a narrow muddy road. Minutes later he parked the car on the edge of a cliff.

We got down from the car and spread newspapers on the ground and squatted before they could fly away. I didn't notice my friend had a couple of beer cans with him taken from an ice box in the boot. But before he could stave the cans open I made a rider that he will not be driving back home.“Then who will do it?” he asked.“I will take the wheel”.“But you will be just as drunk as I am”.“Well, don’t be so presumptuous. I am not drinking if I am going to drive”.To cut a long story short, the day didn’t end in a damp squib even after the liquor cans were stuffed away ingloriously. By late evening I drove back to Mumbai and we were both at a former highly placed WTC official’s residence, sober and hearty.

The WTC official's son, who is known for his peccadilloes more than anything else, came inebriated and swaying. I always suspected most of his savings went in bottom-fishing United Breweries stocks. After delving into each other's sex life when we finally ensconced on bean chairs in his room, the WTC official's son talked about the grueling interview sessions he had with foreign players who were out to pitch for infrastructure investments through the IPC he was working for.The US-based global player had too many questions for the WTC official’s son about transparency and delinquency among their Indian counterparts.

Finally, the US based investment firm decided after confabulations with its US counterparts that it was not worth the while to get into major infrastructure deals in India, until they could see a modicum of cleanliness in transactions.“After all, it is illegal for US companies to be caught with their hand in the till in a third country”, said the former WTC official's son. “Sad, India lost another big player from the race. Do you think many will stay out because of India’s record in transparency?

Will we be able to get $-1trillion?” I asked still slightly unsure of the drift.“Naah, impossible. We should be happy if we manage to mobilize even half of that”, he replied promptly.“Who did you talk to in the US investment firm and where was this meeting?”“ His name is Ratish Jyoti, and is vice president. We met at his office at BKC”.Small world.

(As usual, this story though is true, the characters are chosenly part-fictional)


Posted by Anil Nair at 12:01 AM
Thursday, 4 March 2010
For a nail the chariot was lost
Mood:  cheeky
Now Playing: How did the real estate dream go awry
Topic: And is a spade a shovel?

After having driven a Maruti 800 for over ten years, since he became old enough to have a licence to kill, Sachin decided to graduate to a Mahindra Scorpio. At 28, he was priming to get married, and he “preferred to stay with his parents after marriage” if his wife played ball. When Sadanand, a cloth merchant at Kapda Bazaar met him at Hot Plate, a eatery frequented by mostly students, in suburban Mumbai, Sachin was full of beans. Talking about the high prospects of property sector, home loans, cement and steel prices and the PE ratio of real estate stocks, he convinced Sadanand that he was a sub-broker out to find his next kill.

All through his conversation on that Saturday afternoon when orange juice and tea flowed incessantly, Sadanand stayed distant for long enough to make Sachin uncomfortable. Finally, Sachin sensing Sadanand's discomfiture, told him impishly, “I am not here to sell you anything. Though I am a sales man given to making a pitch every moment of my life, I am a humble HDFC home loan salesman”. His humility was revealed when Sadanand later asked him his monthly earnings. Embarrassingly for Sadanand, Sachin earned more than he did, and that also convinced Sadanand that his words about the industry would turn out to be prophetic. When the waiter in brown and white uniform turned up with the bill Sachin did not make any attempt to pick it up. Sadanand got a lesson in parsimoniousness that day.

_________________________________________

June 7, 2009

Mysore PalaceThe restaurant was dingy, dirty and dark. The smell was obnoxious. The far end of the restaurant had a single chair which meant there never was more than one customer at a time. Rahul disembarked from the bus, after all the passengers did, carrying his backpack in his hand. He saw Sumesh standing near the bookstall with his phone stuck between his head and shoulder and lugging two bags in each hand. Rahul presumed it must be Shailaja on the other end of the phone. This trip to Mysore was a salvage operation planned by Rahul. When Shailaja sent Sumesh the last SMS breaking up their three-year long relationship, Sumesh appeared badly shaken. For days he walked around like a zombie in his office at HSR Layout. At Rx Labs where he worked he had no interest in his latest Hathway project. Then his boss told him to take a vacation for a month. Rahul was equally stunned by Sumesh’s behaviour. Mysore trip was impulsively planned, and worse, inordinately delayed. Yet, the fun was good.
 
When a bus turned in to enter the depot it raised a cloud of dust, and a collection of thin polyethylene bags also went up in the air. Rahul gestured to Sumesh about eating something at the restaurant. Sumesh first raised his eyebrows to express shock at Rahul’s suggestion, then shook his head to refuse the offer. Rahul could not help stop laughing at his idiocy, as Sumesh’s phone fell and went rolling down the hillock. Sumesh dropped the four bags and went scurrying after the phone. Rahul could see his head bob for a while before he disappeared behind the hillock.
 
The restaurant had a gathering of six people, mostly farm workers who had come for their mid-morning cup ofchai. It looked as if they had just stepped out of a puddle of mud, their feet had weed stuck on all sides. The restaurant named after some god of the hills, told a story of age, insouciance and failure of a business model. The decrepit old man who managed the hotel, showed a lot of enterprise running errands to serving piping hot tea in crumbled cups which had frayed rim.
 
Rahul sat down on the only chair in the restaurant, while the farm workers carried on with their conversation in Orriya. They were vacuous, swinging their hands in gestures sometimes obscene and creating a racket. Rahul pretended to be equally indifferent. Minutes later Rahul saw Sumesh come up walking with both feet soiled, holding his shoes in his hands and the phone and the hands-free dangling from his shoulders.
 
“Was it Shailaja?” Rahul asked him without looking up from the Telugu newspaper spread on his table.
 
“Why do you pretend to know everything from Shailaja to Telugu?” Sumesh retorted without much mirth. Sumesh looked hurt, but Rahul did not delve further. Rahul closed the paper even as he sighed. Sumesh had bloodshot eyes, and he tried hard to look cheerful.
 
Second later, the bus driver, after his morning ablutions, also walked into the restaurant bare feet. Rahul and Sumesh listened intently when the driver started to speak in Orriya. They heard him tell the restaurant owner which could have only meant that he was feeling ill. The driver ordered for chai. A moment later he got up after the first sip, and almost on cue Rahul and Sumesh got up to rush to the bus. All the passengers boarded the bus in a single file, and in about more two minutes the rickety old bus was cruising at 60-kmph.
 
“Do you have any whisky left?” Sumesh asked Rahul and even before Rahul could react he continued, “I want some now”. When Rahul sat staring at him, Sumesh pressed his hands into Rahul’s pocket and drew out the small bottle of Director’s Special. He took a long swig. Rahul still looked bewildered. After a long moment, Sumesh finally spoke in low voice:, "my bank is confiscating my flat in Bangalore tomorrow for non-payment of the last five EMIs”. 
 
Three days later when Rahul picked up the Hindustan Times at the Bangalore airport the picture on the front page was very familiar and the story was even more known to him. Sumesh hung himself in his room minutes before the bank impounders came.
_________________________________________

June 13, 2009

Vidhan SoudhaThe bell rang without respite, and Sanket woke up with a start. He looked at himself bleary eyed, he was naked. He pulled the thin bed sheet away and wound it up around his waist. His looked at his phone to check the time – 7.43 am. He looked around but Shailaja had left. The bell rang again before he reached the door. He left it ajar, turned around, went into his bedroom and sat on the edge of bed. The maid servant ambled into the room holding a plastic can and a broom. She glanced at the bottles of beer kept near the door for the scavenger to take away. She twitched her nose impulsively, which was strange as drinking binge was commonplace in Bangalore. Sanket tried to collect his thoughts. His eyelids were drooping.. When the night is eventful, the morning after tends to be benumbing. The maid took over ten minutes to clean up the place, swept the floor with a broom and then swabbed it with a wet cloth, which according to Sanket wasn’t much as he was minimalist in furniture these days – no dining table, no television set – no nothing left.
 
Exactly twelve hours later when Sanket stuck his online ticket under the guard’s nose, he impulsively looked over his shoulders. Sanket entered the concourse and went straight ahead to the Jet Airways counter. The clock behind the counter showed 7.36 pm.
 
“Your flight is on time, sir. Don’t have any check-in baggage?” the woman behind the counter asked impulsively.
“No check-in baggage. Can I know when will I reach London? It seems to be a crowded flight”, Sanket said giving his most reserved smile.
“ Oh, you should be there in London by 5 am local time”.
Sanket thought the girl did not bite the bait as she barely looked up.
 
At twenty minutes past midnight the police broke open Sanket’s room. The flat owner was amongst the policemen who trooped in to check if Sanket was around. There was only a Post It message on the wall facing the main door. It said, “Sorry, can’t pay the rent now. Will try paying on my next visit. Cherios!!!”
 
[This is a true story, but embellished to build narrative interest. Names have been changed for my convenience than anyone else’s]


Posted by Anil Nair at 11:22 PM
Updated: Saturday, 6 March 2010 4:43 PM
Friday, 20 February 2009
Are secularists secular?
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: The other side of Indian hypocrisy
Topic: And is a spade a shovel?

This article from DNA has been forwarded to me by many friends who think equally strongly about the shrinking civil society. But Jaggi always writes with aplomb and candour, rarely seen in today's journalists. Enjoy!

 

____________________________________________

 

By R Jagannathan

 

Every thinking person knows that the secular-liberal space is shrinking. It is shrinking not only in India, but in the whole subcontinent, and possibly all over the world. Secular liberalism will take root only when like-minded people from all communities condemn the same things and talk the same language.Even in the stoutly secular European Union, growing Islamophobia has sharpened religious antagonisms within. This is evidence of the hidden threat to liberalism.

 

The various anti-terror laws enacted in Europe, the violent responses to the Danish cartoons, the French opposition to the hijab, the German angst about Turkish immigrants' refusal to integrate, and the subtle Europe-wide opposition to Islamic Turkey's entry into the EU are signs that a religious divide is opening up on the continent.

 

It's only a matter of time before liberalism and secularism shrivel under these pressures.

In and around India, various extremisms are taking root. The Taliban have arrived a few miles from our borders in Pakistan's Swat Valley. The Naxals are running riot in a huge north-south corridor from the Nepal border to Maharashtra and AP. The various Hindu senas are raising their ugly heads from Orissa to Karnataka. Muslim zealots are taking to the streets at the slightest provocation, real or imagined.

 

Where are the secular-liberals in all this? They are ineffective because they are confused and divided. Secular liberalism will take root only when like-minded people from all communities condemn the same things and talk the same language.

 

As things stand now, liberals defend only half the turf, while maintaining a deadly silence about the other half. In India, they tend to be vociferous in condemning Hindu communalism but look the other way when minority communalism rears its head.

 

We don't have to look too far for such examples. When the Sri Rama Sene decided to defend its version of 'Hindu culture', the entire liberal establishment pounced on it. A pink chaddi campaign was launched.

 

Around the time when we liberals were teaching the Sene's cohorts a lesson, an editor in Kolkata was fending off a Muslim mob that took offence over an article written by an atheist religion-baiter.

 

Thanks to our one-sided secularism, this editor had almost no liberal defenders. He was arrested for disturbing communal harmony before being let off on bail. No secularist thought it fit to send coloured undergarments to that riotous mob outside his office. Is this even-handed secularism?

 

If the same crime by different communities merits different responses, our secularism is fake. If liberals gather only to attack majority communalism, they are effectively encouraging minority communalism through silent eloquence. They take refuge under the weak argument that majority communalism is more dangerous than its minority counterpart.

 

Is it? I don't think so. First, the number of communalists among Hindus is very tiny. What we are fighting is a minority in the so-called majority.

 

Second, every time we raise our voices against Hindu communalism but mute the criticism for minority communalism, Hindu communalists recruit more to their cause. The Sangh Parivar has grown many radical new arms not because the RSS is so powerful but because it is perceived as weak by more and more Hindu youths.

 

Third, the idea of a Hindu majority is a partial myth. If you take the 25-30% of SC/ST population out of the head count, Hindus are not a clear majority even in India. This is particularly true in the context of efforts to give Dalits a different religious identity under Ambedkarite Buddhism.

 

We also need to look at Hindu numbers from a subcontinental perspective, given our porous borders with Bangladesh and Pakistan. Large parts of eastern India have already been inundated by Bangladeshis. But liberals don't want to take note.

 

If you take South Asia's demographics as a whole, upper caste and OBC Hindus -- who form the real Hindu core -- are merely the largest single minority. So when we talk of majority communalism, we are quite wrong. There is no such thing.

 

To expand the secular-liberal space in India we have to battle all kinds of communalism. This means liberals from all communities must band together. I find no sense in banners such as Muslims for Secular Democracy. If Muslims are secular, are they really espousing a different type of secularism compared to non-Muslims?

 

Liberals cannot have dual yardsticks on this. The world is one village, and the concept of majority and minority is a self-limiting one.

 

If secularism is worth fighting for, it is worth fighting for in all communities. If it is good for India, it is good for Pakistan, Bangladesh, Saudi Arabia, and China. India cannot be the only liberal-secular island in a sea of communal or autocratic states.

 

Even as Hindu liberals fight for secularism in India, liberal Muslims must take this idea to all Muslim fora everywhere in the world. It is difficult to rubbish the idea of a Hindu Rashtra when Muslim liberals choose to keep quiet on non-secular societies in our neighbourhood.

 

*********


Posted by Anil Nair at 2:08 AM
Updated: Sunday, 22 February 2009 10:38 AM

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